It was a long trip. It was a long week. It was a long time coming.

Moving is not easy, even when a moving company is involved. Months of advance planning led to weeks of actual change, as we modified the look of our Liberty Lake house to stage it as well as possible for showing. Then, when niece Leah and her boyfriend Levi came out to “go shopping” and take whatever they wanted back to Colorado, to furnish their new house, we had more changes to make and more adjustments to deal with. Finally, when the movers descended on the house to pack us up and load our goods, we dealt with two more days of displacement, even going so far as to spend those two nights at the Residence Inn in Spokane Valley, since we had no place to sit or sleep.

Through it all, Buster and Boofus were real troupers (yes, that’s how you spell it.) We cleared out a lower level bedroom and put them in there while the movers were working, with their litter box, food, and water, and I posted a handwritten sign on the door, just to make sure no one entered, because such a transgression might allow the stressed-out boyz to escape. My sign told a simple tale. It said, “CATS INSIDE – STAY OUT!” I didn’t want there to be any miscommunication.

In the midst of it, a tow-truck arrived to take Barbara’s car to the transport depot so that it could travel in style via a car carrier, across the country. To add to the fun, the young guys who arrived in the truck left the engine running, but then discovered the new truck had locked its own doors once they got out. Not only were the keys inside, so were their cell phones. And did I mention the engine was running?

I loaned them my phone and they called their shop. 20 minutes later, after watching them sheepishly sit around contemplating their own ineptitude, a colleague showed up with a “slim jim” to pop the door open. Then we waved goodbye to Barb’s trusty Lexus HS 250h.

(As always, you can click on the photos to enlarge them!)

When we finally watched the United Van Lines truck pull away, with what was left of our worldly possessions stored within, our work was still far from done. Our goal was to leave the house as clean and neat as humanly possible. Did we truly need to do that? Would anyone be surprised if we left it just “pretty clean” and not spotless? I think “No” is the answer to both questions, but Barbara and I have both, individually and as a couple, taken possession of numerous houses where the sellers didn’t even bother to do basic cleaning, and that’s nothing short of gross. I mean, really. You couldn’t clean the hair out of the shower drain before you fled?

So, not wanting to be “those people” we both have an overwhelming urge to do the right thing in terms of how clean a house should be when you walk away from it. From the hardwoods, to the carpets, to the drawers and cabinets, to the bathrooms (on hands and knees with sponges), to the garage. We spent four or five hours cleaning on Wednesday, and then another six hours on Thursday, before it was time to finally say “We’ve done all we can do” and hit the road.

Before we left, something amazing happened. When we moved to Liberty Lake, we made a bit of a conscious decision to try to not make too many friends there, because we knew we’d eventually be leaving and leaving friends is a sad deal. We have, however, been friendly with our three closest neighbors, at least in terms of conversation by the mailbox or in the yard. All of them did something special for us before we left, and we were truly touched by it. One next-door neighbor prepared a wonderful dinner for us on Tuesday night, and delivered it to us when the movers were done packing. Another came from across the street with a nice bottle of wine, to wish us well. Our other next-door neighbor saw our bare porch, after the movers took our outdoor seating away, and brought two patio chairs over, so we could at least sit outside and enjoy our final evening. I was more than a little sad to be leaving such good people, and really honored that they would think of those things and act on the thoughts. Amazing.

Before we did that, however, on Wednesday night we went to our favorite Liberty Lake bistro, Hay J’s, for one last phenomenal meal. We knew the fresh Copper River salmon were being caught and sold, and when you live in Washington you can get it so fresh it’s still swimming. I kid, but it’s incredible when it’s in its short season. We also took with us a vintage bottle of Dom Perignon, to celebrate our return to Minnesota while we also said “So long” to Liberty Lake. When we asked our server if the Copper River was available, she said “It was. We sold out a couple of hours ago.” Sadness. But the Filet Mignon went a long way toward easing our sorrows. And the Dom was off the charts. As drag racing fan and backer Guy Fieri would say, “Money!”

When we finally gave in and hit the highway on Thursday, the boyz were ready to be in the car. They’re such great travelers now, and so easy to drive with, it’s hard to remember how much they moaned and cried whenever we’d put them in the car when they were kittens. Now, they basically jump in their carriers when we say, “Let’s go” and once we let them out they sit on our laps, walk around, get a bite to eat, drink some water, and watch the scenery. They, however, do not like big trucks. When we pass an 18-wheeler, they crouch down and stare at it. It’s actually kind of funny.

And, they’re not totally silent as we roll down the road, but what noises they do make are more like conversation and less like moaning. They are a pleasure to have in the car.

Barbara was in charge of iPhone photos and selfies, and she managed to take a photo of Buster that almost broke the internet. It looks like he’s taking the selfie, but it’s so fantastically composed and he looks so hilarious it continues to crack me up to this day. We were somewhere in Montana, and he was strolling around the car checking everything out, including the dashboard, the food dish, my lap, and the iPhone he was staring out.

Hilarious!

As reported in my short-and-sweet semi-blog last week, we only went to Missoula the first night, about 3.5 hours from Liberty Lake through some incredible Idaho and western Montana scenery. We checked in, got the boyz situated, and drove back up the road to a Mexican place for dinner. By the time we got back to the room, sleep was just around the corner. We had a huge day ahead of us on Friday. Getting up early was not going to be pleasant, but it wasn’t really optional, either. Missoula to Bismarck is over 700 miles, and we’d lose a time zone, so with a lunch stop and three gas stations involved, and some rain, and some construction zones (more than a few) it was going to be close to 14 hours before we arrived at Staybridge Suites Hotel No. 2.

The first part of the drive is more of the same, on high mountain passes with winding turns, all with a speed limit of 80 mph. You get pretty used to 80 after a while, and when we’d hit those construction zones and the limit would drop to 60 it felt like we were barely moving. When it was lowered to 45, it felt like we could walk faster.

The 80 mph limit is fine in terms of traffic, because with the limit being that high most people don’t really exceed it. It’s like “Well, they’re giving me 80 so why risk a ticket going 86?” Very few cars passed me, and I had the cruise-control set right on 80, to erase any fears of attracting a State Trooper. The only sketchy parts were the downhill mountain curves. It wasn’t so much that my car couldn’t handle the curves at that speed, it was the limited sight distances going around those curves. At 80, a surprise lurking around the corner would be hard to avoid, so I slowed to a more pedestrian 75 until we had clearer sight lines.

We traveled through Bozeman, Butte, and Billings (the 3 Bs of I-90 in Montana.) After Billings, we picked up I-94 knowing that highway would take us to within a mile of our home in Woodbury, but we still had six hours to go just to make it to Bismarck, in North Dakota. It was just turning from dusk to dark when we finally arrived. We checked in, got the boyz situated, had a glass of wine, and went straight to bed without passing “GO” and without collecting 200 dollars.

With “just” 450 miles ahead of us, we slept until we felt like getting up and were on the road again. That third day is actually the toughest one, because you’ve just had a massive Day 2 and you feel like you should be home. When we got on I-94 and the first mileage sign said “Fargo – 200” my heart sank a little. Fargo is still the width of Minnesota away from home, and it was 200 miles in front of us. In total, it can easily take six hours to get home, depending on Twin Cities traffic. After making it so far, it seems a bit overwhelming to know how much further we still had to go.

Fortunately, traffic wasn’t too bad and we made it to the Woodbury exit right on time. The boyz always react when we get off the highway, because they know something’s up, and they got more and more excited as it became clear we weren’t just pulling into yet another gas station off the exit ramp, but instead were quickly on neighborhood streets. They’re smart that way. When we pulled into our subdivision, they began to get really excited. I don’t think they recognized it (they hadn’t been here in two years) but when we pulled into the garage they were just about beside themselves.

We didn’t even bother with the carriers. We just closed the garage door behind us and carried them into the house. They went nuts.

When they’re somewhere strange, like a new hotel room, they crouch down with their tails low, and sniff around to scope the place out. But here, they actually remembered the house from their last trip here in 2014, after we got this place and used it as our summer home that year. Their tails were straight up in the air and within two seconds they weren’t just exploring, they were racing around the house, jumping over each other and tearing around corners to see it all. They flew down to the lower level, they checked out every bedroom, and when they found the food and litter boxes Barbara had arranged for them when she was here a few weeks ago, they made themselves right at home. It was truly fun to watch them act like such kittens, and to see that cats really do have emotions. They were happy. They were excited. They were thrilled. And they told us all about it with happy meows and loud purrs.

It was good to be home. It’s still good to be home.

We’ve been pretty nonstop busy since we got here, on Saturday night, although in the interest of fair reporting I must admit we totally took Sunday off, just sleeping in and recharging as best we could. We did a little housework and laundry on Monday, and on Tuesday we both got up and went to work here at home. Barbara will be using what had been my office, since her work really demands a quiet space and room to spread out. I’ve been working from the sofa or the kitchen island, since my desk and other office stuff is still on the moving truck. I just got a call from United, and we can expect the truck to arrive on Tuesday. Then the fun begins all over again.

We did pay the extra money to have the movers unpack us, but all they do is take the goods out of the boxes and set it all on open surfaces. We still have to organize it and put it all away, and we’ll almost certainly have some additional “weeding out” of things when we do that. We have a full set of dishes, pots & pans, and silverware here, for when we did come to check on things, but we have far more of that stuff on the truck. Somehow we have to make it all fit.

In addition, we’ve decided to pull the trigger and add some additions or extras to this house, to make it just exactly how we want it. We bought it as a new property (it was the model home in this community) and while it’s ultra-nice and very comfortable, it had a few things we wanted to upgrade. One is the master closet, which is a nicely sized walk-in (actually a walk-through) but we didn’t like the wire racks and the way it was organized. So, Barbara met with a custom closet company and we’ve laid out how we want it, with drawers and shelves to go with the hanging rods.

This house also has a little less storage space, especially in the very nice kitchen. To conquer that, we’re having pull-out drawers inserted into many of the cabinets, to make them more space-efficient.

And (this is important!) we have a dedicated wine room here, but we’ve never installed any racks and therefore have never stored any actual wine there. A “wine room designer” guy spent an hour here yesterday, mapping out how best to build and install some racks in the oddly shaped little room with the pretty glass door and directional lighting. Once we get that done, our wine collection will have a place of its own.

Bottom line is, we’re home and we want this home to be just how we want it to be. We may never move again (I said “may”) and we don’t want to look back later and think “We were too cheap when what we wanted was right there to get” so we’re doing it the way we want it.

We left behind the incredible home theater set-up at the Liberty Lake house, to help it sell, and we’re going to not just replicate it but exceed it here in Woodbury. We spent a few hours at Best Buy over the weekend, and got a great deal on a phenomenal 65″ TV and a new sound system to go with it. We’ve also looked at theater seating, and while we haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet we have in mind what we want. It will be my “man cave” and a great entertaining area for us, so I can’t wait.

As for Boofus and Buster, they’ve totally relaxed and they completely love it here. The thing they missed the most out in Liberty Lake was the fact we didn’t have a screened porch, but we have one here and they’re in heaven out there. In Washington, we put them out back in their hut or took them for walks in their cat stroller, but here we can just open the sliding door a bit and they can come and go as they please, raising their noses to sniff the outside air while watching the birds in the trees right below them. It’s all good.

And so is the writing, on “Bats, Balls, and Burnouts.” I was forced to take last week off from the book, after finishing Chapter 19 right before the move began. On Tuesday and Wednesday this week, I cranked out Chapter 20 in record time. I think I needed a mental break, and I was raring to go when I sat down on Tuesday to get back to work.

It’s another important chapter, and it details my year as an executive for the St. Louis Storm indoor soccer franchise, in 1989-90. It was a fantastic experience to do that job, and the thrill of walking out into the arena and seeing more than 14,000 people in the seats was something that’s always been hard to overstate and difficult to describe. My staff and I worked for 10 short weeks, beginning with nothing (not even a soccer ball) and by the time Opening Night came around our hard work paid off. We had the largest Opening Night paid attendance in the Major Indoor Soccer League, and it was the franchise’s first game ever.

Here’s a snippet, about that Opening Night, which happened just those 10 short weeks after I was hired as the first front-office employee. I was Vice President – Marketing, but after our original general manager was let go just weeks after being hired, I was effectively running the team and the staff. Stress doesn’t quite describe those 10 weeks, because while it was indeed stressful, it was also invigorating, thrilling, and exhilarating. Then Opening Night finally arrived.

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We were all collectively a nervous wreck throughout the day of the opener. I kept an eye on the ticket-computer monitor, smiling and marveling as the numbers rang up consistently from ticket-sales outlets all over town. Our team arrived. The Kansas City Comets arrived. The Storm was about to happen.

We’d brought in search lights to scan the sky outside The Arena, acting as a beacon for arriving fans while signaling, in Hollywood premiere fashion, that this game was a big deal. We waited. At 6:00 p.m., one hour before kickoff, the traffic started to back up on Oakland Ave., in front of the building. At 7:00 p.m., when a singer performed the national anthem, the cars were still coming in.

We put roughly 14,500 people into The Arena that night. We lost the game, and it was an uncommonly low-scoring affair, but our promotions went off just fine, the fans had fun, and as I stood behind the goal and looked at all those people, I felt an enormous rush of pride, not just for me but for my staff. I had goosebumps, and wasn’t too far from shedding a tear. The work had been manic, but the results were there and it all felt so “worth it” at that moment.

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It was really like that. And more so.

And that was just one game out of 26 home games. The story got better (and in many ways worse) from there.

So here we are. We’re home. I’m back to blogging and to writing my book. On Tuesday, after the movers bury us in more stuff and we get it all organized, I’ll be working from my trusty desk in the lower level, with my familiar memorabilia all around me.

The quest for more words continues. And Boofus and Buster are sound asleep on the couch.

Bob Wilber, at your service and back on the horse!