Weighing in

That's what they do before a competitive fight. Check weight. This is ostensibly to ensure the fighters are evenly matched. I am feeling a little over-matched by my trailer.

On weigh-in day, Hildegard tipped the Toledos at 4140 kg. In my weight class, that's a mite more than I'm regularly accustomed to. So today I purchased something called a weight distribution hitch, which 24 hours heretofore had been totally unbeknownst to me. It pays to ask questions.

A good result will be even better. And I will know the result for sure on Monday morning, when my newly installed and stabilized hitch hits the pavement for the 4200 km ride to pay dirt. I think any reasonable person would have run like hell some time ago. I have to admit I never felt a strong need to be accused of that. (Yes, this makes me an idiot.)

Tomorrow, I hope to weigh the truck. It has a new cap, which gives me some added headroom. Mother almost didn't recognize me when I pulled in her driveway. Then I rolled down the window.

"Oh. You again?"

I'm totally kidding. She really does love me.

Pressure Drop

Today is the first day of relative normalcy in almost two months. It is Sunday. We are in Toronto and heading out for brunch with the Mums. The apartment never felt so good.

What I hope was The Final Deadline came yesterday. I had thought The Final Deadline would be June 29, the day the house closed. But it was July 4, when a small seasoned group of very smart friends helped to reason through and reload the trailer, which Guelph Super Movers had completely screwed up the week before.

A truck and trailer combo like mine has a maximum tongue weight of about 1000 lbs. When I checked our portable scale and it read 2100, I cried "Halt". The movers truly had no idea how to balance a trailer, and when I told them they had to start over they were a little peeved because they wanted to go tubing. Consequently, a number of things were broken, and will not be making the trip to Mexico.

So, last week, we unloaded, weighed every box and sorted them into three piles, then estimated the weight of the remaining furniture. After weighing in at Belwood at 4040 kg, we are right where we want to be -- about 1000 lbs underweight, and smooth sailing at 100 kph.

There is still some mopping up to do at our temporary Riverwood B&B headquarters, but it looks like we will be on our way in about a week. Fingers crossed. At least we are done with deadlines.

So long, and thanks for all the fish...

Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has long been a favourite book of mine, the fourth of the trilogy. And right now I am feeling a little like Arthur Dent. And I appear to have lost my towel. Knowing that the meaning of Life the Universe and Everything is 42, is not very helpful right now. However, God's final words to His creation... "Sorry for the inconvenience"... do ring appropriate.

Melanie and I are the long distance runners. It's the last mile of our Marathon, and the struggle now is not to win, but to finish. The online auction has started, and of all the things I am annoyed about, one of the biggest is not having had time to write about it. It's a journey to relish, and to share. I just really wish we could get on the road already.

Three days until load-the-trailer day. Two days until China Syndrome. So happy we have fond donkey memories!

20 Days

"Cleaning is the least of our problems." This is what I said to Melanie when she just exclaimed, "look at all this dust."

There is no time like the immediate past, because this is where all my recent memories are stored -- the ones I haven't have time to write about and never want to forget. People came to our home to buy stuff this weekend. Friends and family came from the city to help us prepare. Ron and I picked up the trailer on Monday. She is sweet -- I have to give her a name.

Melanie and I are discussing this naming of the trailer. I want to call it Pricsilla. It needs a girl's name. She wants to call it Butch. As in Butchart, which is the name of my future dog, but I digress. Melanie thinks the trailer is a boy-toy. OK, yes, but...

It has to be a girl's name. You can't call a trailer Butch. I'm thinking, Lola (after my ex-Mother-in-Law, and I mean that in a good way). So I am open to suggestions.

Twenty days. That's all we have left until the whatever-happens-next thing. The trailer looks really big on the outside but somewhat little on the inside. After this weekend's Estate Sale (George Loney keeps asking me, Who died?), we have decided on the online auction option, so stand by your device and share with all your friends.

So much to declare, so little time. As I was photographing the trailer between edits tonight, her name came into my mind. I will call her Hildegard, in honour of an old friend. She will bring us blessings on our journey South, I am sure of it.

Switchin' to Glide

After one of the funnest, most one-of-a-kind days of my life, it's a wind-swelled sail to the finish from here.

That's how it feels anyway, because this weekend was the highlight – the first wedding I've ever been to with Mariachis, donkeys, a piñata, and where invited guests were able to bring a refreshing adult beverage to the ceremony. And that wedding was mine! OK... Melanie was there too, so technically it was ours. It's going to take some getting used to, saying that. Not that anything is really so different. Except for the thing on my left hand that still feels a little like a bandage. The bride hasn't quite got the hang of that yet either.

A wonderful day, with wonderful friends and family both present and apart. For me, the only stress there was came between 8:00 a.m. and noon, a time during which I learned that making decisions based on radar imagery is nothing I ever want to do again. The best thing about Sunday morning was I didn't have to check the weather when I got up. The after-party brunch of huevos rancheros for 24 was also pretty fun.

So from here, it's a gentle glide down, into the move, the drive, and the new life in Mexico. There are certain to be some thermals on the way. But like the song says, Energy can be directed. Harmony's the sweetest sound. Switchin' to glide.

Donkey Love

Well, the final countdown to the wedding is on, and with just 24 hours to go, I have managed to secure a donkey! The bride is not entirely in favour, but I think she is getting more sold on the idea. It's a miniature donkey, so this makes it almost alright. Sophie Hogan, our photographer, seems pleased.

I am told the animal likes people and is not spooked by Mariachis, which is good because we have some.

Now all we have to do is dodge the rain that's in the forecast. Who doesn't love wet donkey smell...

Timeless

I'm sitting on my upper deck on the Saturday evening of the last long weekend I will spend in this place. The firepit below still smoulders from a morning of burning 10 years of expired documents. The grass is freshly cut. Leonard Cohen sings in the background. The sun still has a month of north-westerly migration before it hits the height of the solstice directly in front of me. The robins and bluejays are having their evening bug feast and the cardinals are flitting around me. The river flows and glistens, as it always has, as it always will. It matters not whether I am here as witness. I have no effect on these things. All I can do is memorize every detail. I will miss this timeless place.