The last long night

I'm quickly discovering preparing for this adventure is a metaphor for life: I always thought I'd have more time. That being said, we're down to the last 12 hours and I'm pooped, frankly. The last 24 hours involved a five hour drive to a YMCA camp near Sundre, an early flight to Vancouver to get visas from the French consulate, a delayed flight coming home, followed by an additional 5 hour return drive. Now all I have to do is pack. I know what you're thinking: 'all the Hoo's down in Hooville will all cry "Boo Hoo". It's true. I have nothing to complain about, what with the sugar momma and the kept man situation in the south of France until some later date.
Still, the long drive(s) gave me some unwanted reflection time and one can't help but stew about things and people soon to be missed. Calgary has given both Ann and I a deep pool of good friends and neighbors who are also good friends, many of whom we hope will visit. Ten or fifteen years ago I imagine an expat assignment was much like a stint on Devil's Island (please rent 'Papillon' for those unclear on the reference). Now, email and Skype can eliminate those nasty feelings of isolation generated by a separation of eight time zones. Still, there's no replacement for live human contact, although some people, and you know who you are, might argue there are some internet sites that are close.
Enough of the lonely hearts club, it's time to look forward to the real adventure: taking two angry cats to the airport and getting them to another hemisphere alive. I expect I will take at least one Gravol for every one I give the cats. I'm pretty sure they will survive, but I can't help thinking about how I will explain a new kitten to my daughter when she arrives in two weeks, should it become necessary. Any advice on this matter will be greatly appreciated.
That pretty much covers things for the moment. As they say in France: Sayanora!

The next transmission will be from the dark side...