For instance, we remembered to contact AAA in Canada a couple of weeks ago to get an international camping card, so we don’t have to give the campground manager our passports to make sure we don’t skip out without paying. That would be a nuisance because we wouldn’t have our passports with us when we take the buses into town. We leave the camping card instead. Somehow it vouches for us.

The other to-do’s on the checklist are almost all done, too. I got myself a great camera-carrying backpack, and my money belt, and the other day we bought a pair of duffel bags because they’ll be easier to handle than suitcases in the mobi. Jeanne has picked up the items that Daughter and Boyfriend want us to mule over to them. We even remembered to print up business cards to leave behind so people we befriend will know how to contact us. Last night we walked the house sitter through our home. The dogs will be groomed before we leave. In other words, just about everything is done.

But wait, no, it’s not.

We’ve got to call the credit card companies and tell them not to cancel our cards when they see strange charges in Europe. We’ve got to scan our important documents – passports, drivers’ licenses, credit cards, insurance policies and the like – so we can e-mail them to our kids, and to print out copies for ourselves, in case we lose the originals and need backups for proof. We’ve got to shift money around in our bank accounts so we’ve got enough cash in our debit account. I’ve got to download a ton of albums into my MP3 player and make sure all my electronic toys are charged and we have all the recharging cables and USB cables and batteries. We need to do one more load of wash. We need to clean the house and open up the suitcases and see if everything fits.

And when we walk out the door early Saturday morning, we need to make sure the toilet isn’t running and the iron is off. Well, no we don’t. The iron is never on.

Our flight leaves Las Vegas at 8 a.m.  We land in Brussels 12 1/2 hours later – 7:30 a.m. local time the next morning. We’ll have a day of calm. We pick up mobi Monday afternoon.

And then we’ll have some real stories to tell.

One went around the neck.  It reminded me of my Catholic childhood, wearing a Holy Scapular medal around my neck. I’m not into neckwear. Even living in Las Vegas, you won’t find me wearing any gold chains.

The other four went around my waist. For one of them, you slip your belt through its two loops. But a smart little street urchin could easily slip his hand into the big opening and snag some goodies.  Nope, no good. Another one had a flimsy hook thingy and the belt was very narrow. “Cut and run,” Jeanne warned me. Now I finally knew what that phrase meant.

The other two were more like conventional fanny packs. One said “hip pack” meaning, I guess, I’d have to wear it on my hip. Or I could break the law and position it on my belt buckle. It was pretty nice, with three zipper compartments — one for a passport, one for cash and/or credit cards, and a big center compartment for sunglasses, Chap stick, a couple of rolls of 36-exposure Kodachrome 64 — oh wait, Kodachrome has finally been retired and I’m shooting digital — and my walkie talkie and Leatherman took kit (see the earlier blog about shopping at Costco).

None of the money belts came pre-loaded with cash.