The time is drawing near for undiscovered country again.
Now, undiscovered country is not necessarily unplanned-for country. In the two weeks that separate me from my very comfortable chair in the studio as I write this, and the Road, there is a lot to do. I've been trying to kick myself into Madame Planner gear and get a handle on what needs to be done in order to make this trip function.
Number One: DO NOT PACK CLOTHING TO SUIT THIS WEEK'S WEATHER. Good Heavens, no. Most of the rest of the country actually thinks it's Spring. I wore a flannel shirt this morning to go to Mass, and heavy socks. We have had exactly one day so far in 2010 that was warm enough to sweat. IT'S MAY, WEATHER BITCHES! WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN SWIMMING FOR SIX WEEKS! WE SHOULD BE TANNED! WE SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT TURNING FANS ON AT NIGHT TO COOL DOWN THE HOUSE, NOT RUNNING THE DAMNED FURNACE!
Okay, let me stop hyperventilating about the chill here. The other things we have to do are still in a miasma of denial and lack of order. But here is my list so far:
Check Howie's records to make sure he is up to date on his vaccines. (Yes, Howie is going with us.)
Give Howie his spring bath and a deep series of grooming to reduce the dog hair in the car.
Get maps from AAA.
Make detailed instructions for care of the gardens for John and Alex.
Lose 10 pounds of ugly fat.
Get all of June's Press issues done as far as possible.
Send file for "Bookmarks" from my working computer to my laptop.
Kick Firefox into remembering my passwords on my laptop.
Figure out where the hell the tent is.
Figure out how the hell to set the tent up when we find it.
Buy bottled water, easy eatin' snacks, baby wipes (indispensable for sweaty necks and smelly armpits, etc), insect repellent, sunblock.
Clean electric shaver for leg hairs. (<--me)
Pack camera charger.
Get more detailed maps from AAA.
This would be exciting if it were not so sad. The reason for the trip is basically to say goodbye to our mothers. I don't even know if my mom will remember me when I visit her in the nursing home; Bernie's mom is 90 this year, and this may be our last chance to spend time with her while Bern is between jobs and she is alive. She's okay for now, but is rapidly getting tottery.
Nevertheless, the Open Road Mystique is upon me, and I'm very eager for the adventure. The highway has been beckoning to me lately, suggestively calling to me in early hours. I already have had Howie's drinking bowl (sealable lid) bought since January, in case we needed to go; I have looked at our Ugly Bags in the closet every day and felt a longing to pack them.
The Time is near. The Road beckons.