When I got in the Lyft from Honda for an oil change to take me to Cecelia's for a massage, the driver was playing loud music, and I sang along.  Each song carried special memories: Georgia on My Mind, Ray Charles; At Last, Etta James; and Ain't No Sunshine When You're Gone. 

The ride was too short to hear more, so I told my driver (who smiled but never spoke) that I'd like to sit in his car for one more song.  

Lunch at Tlahco's, then a pedicure, then--in spite of all their excellent attentions, my feet told me it was time to go home for the night.  Sometimes we just have to listen to our feet or backs or shoulders, whatever's yammering, and call it a day.

Yesterday I went to the lawyer's to pick up my will.  I told her I was about to embark on a 3000 mile road trip and she asked, "Is your family okay with that?"

Unaccustomed to my family okaying what I do or don't do, I took a deep breath, realizing that she thought I might be too--you know (old)--for such a drive, just me an my tiny dog for company.  

But I'm in a happy mood and didn't let it sting.  As Veronica told me today, "You've got this!  I can't wait to hear about all the people you're going to meet."

And so with that send-off and blessing, Luci and I are all set to head east tomorrow, hoping to get through Houston traffic before rush hour.