I'm finalizing loose odds and ends, and just about ready to hit the road. So, barring a major unanticipated event, I think this will be my last post from my Pennsylvania home. (Emotional. Ugh.)

Whether I'll be set up to blog tomorrow from the new location is another matter. This whole move has been insane, as I've had to sort through, archive, and pack three households worth of stuff. My punishment for hanging onto my parents' stuff after they died. Like me, they were, um, accumulators. Nothing wrong with generations of accumulation, unless you have to move. (Seriously, I would not wish the past two weeks on anyone except maybe Osama bin Laden or Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.)

Speaking of accumulating, I found something in the basement I hadn't thought about in nearly a decade:

It's a still-sealed 3 gallon stoneware jug full of 1883 Rye whiskey. My father had it for many decades, and he used to joke that "one of these days" we should open it up "for a special occasion" and try it. One of these days never came, special occasions came and went, and the ancient rye remained sealed and forgotten.

Who knows whether one of these days will ever arrive? I'll have to think about that one of these days.

Hopefully, the next post will be from my new home.