Readers, I would love to regale you with chipper accounts of packing up the jolly RV with smiles on our adventure-happy faces, stowing all our books and the Mister’s films, cookpots and my extra guitar strings (along with the Complete Bob Dylan Songbook). But truth be told, getting on the road is nothing but chores, chores, chores and more chores. And for someone who’s just a little traumatized by moving house, this all bears a pale resemblance to doom. Readers, I am on edge.
STILL, there is adventure to be had, and a cost to having it. And so we forge ahead. The wagon train pulls out by 10 am on Wednesday for the first miles of about, oh, 5,000 more to come. Since Wednesday is also my sister Shannon’s birthday, I take it as an auspicious day for a drive. So once the house-sitters arrive and the driving begins, I’ll be reveling in the whole shebang, ridin’ shotgun while the Mister navigates the trickiness of driving a recreational vehicle—which since we’re in a truth-telling mode, I will admit scares the bejeezus out of me.
First stop? Redding, CA, in the shadow of the still snow-covered Mt. Shasta. It’s one of the prettiest mountains in the Cascades so this, too, seems a good sign of good fortune ahead. And since Shasta hasn’t blown its volcanic top in quite awhile, I’m going to take that as a model of good behavior, take a deep breath, finish packing, scrub the shower, then lay me down to sleep. It’ll be my last snooze at home until August 12.
Meanwhile, fare thee well, and fare me well, and I hope you’ll ride along on this blog. Consider this your very first postcard.