At a Starbucks at LAX, awaiting flight 244 to Mexico City. Finally.

The last few weeks have been a lesson in the utility of checklists and the satisfaction that comes with the tying of loose ends.

There have been seemingly endless errands: The acquisition of a crisp new passport (painfully expedited); the shopping for comfortable shoes and a sturdy travel bag and travel toiletries; the hard emotional lifting of hellos and goodbyes; the packing and repacking of bags—bags too small to both fit comfortable shoes and the necessary electronic gadgets, not to mention the small stack of books and extra large zip lock baggie of tiny-sized toiletries.

All of this comes together as a white noise of busy work. But it's also a month-long ritual, one whose purpose is to prepare our lives in Mendocino to hibernate in our absence and to prepare ourselves—emotionally, physically, intellectually—for a life lived from a suitcase in Mexico. As rituals go, this one is not for the faint of heart.

But now that we’re at the airport, all of that, by definition, is done. If it wasn’t accomplished, it’s not going to be. There is, therefore, a relief that comes with sitting at this Starbucks counter, having spent two much money on a Playdough bagel, listening to Britney's “Oops, I did it again” over the sound of travelers slurping down their desperately needed cups of pre-flight coffee.

Even so, my fear of flying is churning in my gut, joining with my anxiety about starting a new job—a job for which I'm ill-prepared, if adequately funded.

I’m looking down the barrel of months of all-day, everyday work as a Lonely Planet “author” (really, in this instance, a gloried fact checker). God willing, I’ll visit 30 some towns in six weeks. In each town, city and pueblito, I'm obliged to step foot in every hotel, restaurant, museum, architectural site, discothèque, market, tourist office, national park, and so on and so on listed in Lonely Planet’s previous guide. It's an endurance test and a scavenger hunt. My prize is the right to do it again somewhere else.