When husband Mike retired in 2003 we packed all our belongings and moved from Los Angeles to rural Kentucky. His retirement lasted two years, and he was ready to go back to LA and restart his business. We drove his new Honda Civic to California with a good rug, his computer and not alot more. This past week we have been clearing the apartment of furniture. He has vowed to never acquire so much stuff again: the next apartment will only have sleeping bags. Of course I won't visit, I've warned. So we've crammed the Civic, now age 11, with stuff. I keep thinking about the pioneers who left pianos on the side of the covered wagon trail to the West.
This morning has found us in Scottsdale, Arizona, eating breakfast in a 50s style motel, listening to early election returns. I'm glad I'm going to be on the road today, and not glued to the TV. Too much of that lately.