Gettin’ close. . .

. . relatively speaking. I’m in Bellingham, Washington, ready to turn south and head for home. With a couple of stops along the way.

Actually, “relatively speaking” is a bit of a pun–I’m in Bellingham to visit a cousin (a first cousin once removed, technically speaking–my Dad’s first cousin) and her husband, who I adore (as she might say), and who I am under strict orders NOT to call cute. So they aren’t “cute”, but they are wonderful, and I look forward to coming to see them every year. Since they are 89 and 91, I don’t know how many more summers I can do this–but I have my fingers crossed for a few more. I’ve gotten to know two of their daughters in the last couple of visits (my second cousins), and they feel very much like family–there’s a mutual grandmother that has let herself be felt down the generations, genetically speaking.

And my two remaining stops will be for family, too–a half sister in Ellensburg and a neice (and all-important grand-nephew) in Portland (one of the things I appreciate my brother–and his wife–for is having kids, who now have kids of their own. And being an aunt is definitely a good way to have kids, if the sibling is as willing to share as mine has been.)

I found a good primitive campsite in Montana, so I got to spend a couple of nights where the dogs could just run loose, which is always one of the goals of any trip. My coping strategies for the trailer worked just fine. I went up a dirt road I felt confident I could find a turnaround spot on, and stopped at promising side tracks, walking up the side track to see if it would work with the trailer. Second one was perfect. And I bought a piece of plywood to put under the front wheel of the trailer when I unhitch on dirt or gravel–I’ve used it 3 times now, and it makes things MUCH easier. Iris would appreciate it–we literally dug ourselves into a hole in the Williamsburg campground trying to adjust the trailer’s position, and had to have a couple of muscular young men lift the tongue out enough for us to put a load leveler thingy under the wheel so we could hitch up again. It’s good to feel that wit can still compensate for waning (or generally inadequate to begin with) physical prowess, and I can DO this camping thing on my own, since that’s still the retirement fantasy. Indeed, one of the benefits of the trip has been that I feel more middle aged–and less old. Tee hee. I suppose that it’s a sign of age to feel good about feeling middle aged–but there it is. In part because I’ve been doing road trips of one kind or another pretty much all my adult life, so the travelling invokes younger times.

I’ve been checking out possible places to move to when I retire in 4-5 years (I have to move out of my house once I no longer work for the University–it’s a special housing deal.) Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Washington–all are candidates. California too, but I don’t think I can afford housing there, at least not anywhere I’d want to be. Looked at property, just for the heck of it, in Hamilton, and will go around Bellingham with the cousins a bit tomorrow before I leave. I have 5 years to figure this out, but I’m beginning to realize it’s a bit of a conundrum, and I have to get serious about it–because they really will kick me out of the house. So retirement planning may dominate my vacation trips over the next few summers.

I’m beginning to look forward to being home–but also beginning to feel sad that the trip is coming to an end. Give me a month’s rest, and I could do it all over again, with pleasure.

But instead I need to start gearing up to go back to work. We’re in for interesting times, I fear, what with California being in financial free-fall and no one (or not enough people, anyway) willing to modify political business as usual and figure out an actual solution that is a reasonable compromise and distributes the pain somewaht equitably.

But I don’t have to deal with that for another few weeks–so I’m going to enjoy my last few stops, and leave the serious stuff for later.