September was, in many ways, much like the preceding months during which I had been preparing for the trip. I retired from Chico State University the end of August and there seemed to be so much time to tie up loose ends before I set out for Amsterdam at the end of the month. But with so much else in life, this proved to be an illusion. There were French lessons to go to, plane tickets to buy and space to arrange for Max on Air France so his travels would be as smooth and safe as that of his mistress, who would be flying with him in the main cabin so little distance away. There were also his shots, physical, and all those other tests that reminded me of boot camp in the Marine Corps so many years ago. Details always take the most time, and there were a myriad of them it seemed.

Then there was Eleanor's change of heart and the frantic search for a house sitter. "No," she had said emphatically when I suggested we look for a house sitter some time ago. "No one is going to live in my house while I'm gone." Well, that resistance gave way to the practical concerns of who is going to look after and feed our Lab, water the house plants, and take care of all those other things that go by unnoticed each day until one is faced with preparing for an extended time away. We found one, the son of my cousin who lives not too far from us, and both Eleanor and I were relieved that we could leave and know the house was going to be well tended.

There were the suitcases to buy and try out to see if they would hold all that we wanted to take with us. When we found out there was no suitcase big enough to fulfill that goal we checked with the French Consulate in San Francisco about the requirements of sending boxes of clothing ahead to await our arrival. Well, that may sound easy (phoning the consulate wasn't that hard) but it took time to figure out a way around not having to pay both duty and VAT on our goods, which is what we would told would happen by the French authorities in San Francisco. The best advise seemed to be to fill out the customs declaration forms carefully, mark each box with the notation that its contents were personal and not for resale in France, and pray. So far so good. But that chore and all the others, little and big (but mostly little) just chewed up the month and spit us out at the end, out of time, out of energy, and out of patience with the whole process. But not out of enthusiasm.

One of the other "chores" we had to undertake was also one of the most charming, and that was to get all those who wanted to visit at various times during the first three months set up with directions, books, and their favorite time slots. It's going to be a busy time, but great for Eleanor and me because we will have so much activity and things to do with people about whom we care very much. It will also get us out of the house to scope the countryside. We would do this anyway, of course (why else go?). But it forces the issue and to get agendas and plans set.

The first group will be coming in the second week of October, right after Eleanor arrives with Max (she is staying for an extra two weeks so she can have her foot looked after by the doctor who operated on it 7 weeks earlier). The second group will come a week later and stay until the first of November. Then we have friends from Minnesota coming to spend Thanksgiving with us, and my son, daughter-in-law, and Eleanor's sister arrive for Christmas. We will go to Paris for New Year's and to watch them depart for home January 3. We suspect that separation will be a sad one for us. Then we will look at each other and say, "it's time for a vacation." But what fun it will all be in the meantime.

I called a very old family my friend in the Haag again to be sure he was up to my visit (he is a robust sounding 84 year old man who plays tennis 3 times a week and cares for his wife in the most tender way), found a crane to lift my duffel from the second story of our home and ready for transport to LA where we would spend the weekend before my journey began, did the myriad business things I needed to do for my clients, and got set for the first and most dangerous leg of the trip - the drive from Northern California to Los Angeles.

My wife and I had some furniture for our youngest son's house so we decided that we might as well rent a truck and drive it to his house. That meant, unfortunately, I had to load the truck by myself as there was no one I could rope into the task with me. At 59 sofas and other things weigh more than they do at an earlier age and I left on the drive with a back ache and a firm resolution that if my son wants things in the future he can come and get them. But we got there in fine shape and in time for a wonderful dinner with our oldest son and his wife, who are celebrating their six month anniversary, and our combined families. This was a simply glorious way to begin my trip. My youngest son was also the happy recipient of the furniture and a new computer that I set up for him. There is method to my madness, as this is the way he would be able to contact us easily by e-mail. No father could have better kids than I do. They make me more sanguine about the future and the place decent people have in it.

The last couple of days were spent with clients going over loose ends and establishing the means by which they can contact me while I am gone, how I will send documents to them, and similar things. This is to be a vacation, but bills also have to be paid, so some of the time will be working on projects I find of interest. Those are the only ones for which I will take time away from my wife and the trip, and fortunately I have several. Thus, I will be spending some mornings looking out over the valley below the house we have rented and writing proposals and other documents and sending them along over the Internet. The world is a seamless place these days and makes it possible for people such as I to conduct business in this way. In the words of a friend, it is "way cool."

In the early morning of September 30th my wife and I drove to LAX for the flight to Amsterdam. It was early and we only got lost once. So much for being born and bred on the SoCal freeway system. But the plane was there for me and I hopped on board and the flight attendants got me a drink (a little eye opener for a tired and slightly apprehensive passenger). I said goodbye to my wife and a feeling of incipient loneliness set in as it would be more than two weeks until we would see one another again, and then in France. As the plane took off, I turned to look out the window and said au revoir to what I knew well, wondering if the months ahead would be as grand as I hoped they would be. But there was no getting off so forward we went.