Dear Clock, Please Move.

I wasn't even going to attempt my usual 'Wednesday' writings today...figured that, heck, I'm about to be off the grid for 3 weeks, who'd even notice?

Except as of one hour ago...

I think time stopped.

As you know, the big trip to Northern Europe commences tomorrow.  Actually it commences tonight when my parents hole me up in a hotel minutes from the airport.  It's not that they don't trust me.  It's just that my history of narrowly making flights makes them leery of my airport skills.

Surprisingly, I haven't been laying awake at night fretting over packing, flying or how many extra pounds I'll bring home in my saddlebag.

However, I did wake up this morning and suddenly think, "What the hell is even IN my suitcase??"  As packing (for me) is a process that drags for several weeks...I no longer am in touch with what is at the bottom of the pile.

An unplanned distraction came last week with an unplanned trip to Myrtle Beach.  We'd lost our grandmother a few weeks before and preparations for an October memorial service had to be initiated before we all hopped on a plane to leave the country.  I had full intentions of skipping this process, but was harassed enough by my brother about family time to join in.

If you've ever met my family you know already...we can make anything fun.  So we alternated discussions and planning with side adventures.  One of which was hopping on a boat and traveling 15 miles into the ocean...80% recon on ashe spreading...20% fishing. 

My nephew brought along his friend, Matt.  Matt will never be invited back to the Carolinas.  Matt is one of those people who is good at everything.  While I was at work one day - the boys all hit the driving range.  It was Matt's first time with a golf club in his hands.  He was driving the ball nine billion yards, straight as an arrow.

Matt came along on the boat with us.  Matt was the fish whisperer.  We hate Matt.  I was not the fish whisperer.  I was the fish-throw-it-back-it's-too-small-whisperer.

We also used this trip as an opportunity to hold our annual Mini-Golf Championships.  Here's the format:  Mom is the ref and the rest of us try to beat my brother.  Three holes into the championships and it started misting a bit.  No big deal.

Until minutes later when it turned to a torrential downpour.  I mean buckets of rain.  Cats and Dogs.  Suddenly, we realized, this course was going to change completely.  Because, really...why would we do the logical thing and postpone?

Have you ever tried mini-putting on a green that has so much water on it the balls actually float? 

Moment of the weekend?  Matt figured that if he really, really whacked the crap out of his floating ball, it would scamper towards the hole.  Which he did. 

Issue One:  When he whacked the ball, his club went through three inches of water. 
Issue Two:  When you swing a golf club through three inches of water it creates a small tidal wave. 
Issue Three:  Mom was standing directly across from him when he did this.

Ever had that moment of scary Mom-Silence?  The one where everyone tries to quickly be her favorite by saying, "Dude, you just splashed my mom?/grandma?/wife?"

We let Matt live.  The look of utter panic in his face was punishment enough. 

All in all - it was a fun way to get my mind off the packing list for a few days.  As of last night at about 7.30pm...I realized, I was pretty much ready to zip up the suitcase, throw on my travel wear and hit the road.  If only this pesky work day wouldn't intrude!

You'll have a nice break from my ramblings - and I'll be testing out various Ice Bars in the Baltic Area.  Oh yeah - and let's not forget the Baltic Sea Kayaking tour...and when I say 'let's not forget,' I mean, um, cross your fingers.

Back in the day...I didn't have a pretend fan base.

My friend just emailed me this "When I was a kid..." thing for the over-30 crowd (I haven't aged out into the over-40 group yet, phew!).  These always crack me up - and also make me wonder if life isn't more complicated with all this technology stuff.

Here's the synopsis...with more of my stellar thoughts below.

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were.

When they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning.... Uphill... Barefoot... BOTH ways…yadda, yadda, yadda (For the record, my dad DID wear stone shoes and carried potatos in his pockets to keep his hands warm - and then he had to eat them for lunch.  Or so he claims.)

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on my kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it! But now, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today. You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia!

And I hate to say it, but you kids today, you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have the Internet.  If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalog!!  (Which I never understood - I mean, that's why the librarian was there, right?)

There was no email!!  We had to actually write somebody a letter - with a pen!  Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox, and it would take like a week to get there!  Stamps were 10 cents! (I dream of 10 cent stamps....)


Child Protective Services didn't care if our parents beat us.  As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick our ass!  Nowhere was safe!  (And household items were fair game....wooden spoons, paddles, frying pans...)


There were no MP3's or Napsters or iTunes!  If you wanted to steal music, you had to hitchhike to the record store and shoplift it yourself!  Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio, and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!


There were no CD players! We had tape decks in our car.  We'd play our favorite tape and "eject" it when finished, and then the tape would come undone rendering it useless.  Cause, hey, that's how we rolled, Baby! Dig?


We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called, they got a busy signal, that's it!  (UGH...and when you called someone, only to get a busy signal - you had to sit there forEVER trying again and again...and you couldn't leave the side of the phone because it was CORDED to the wall...and God forbid you wanted privacy - all your allowance money went to a 90 foot phone cord that you could loop through the house to the upstairs hallway)

There weren't any freakin' cell phones either. If you left the house, you just didn't make a damn call or receive one. You actually had to be out of touch with your "friends". OH MY GOD !!! Think of the horror... not being in touch with someone 24/7!!!


And then there's TEXTING. Yeah, right. Please! You kids have no idea how annoying you are.

And we didn't have fancy Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was!  It could be your school, your parents, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, the collection agent... you just didn't know!!!
You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!


We didn't have any fancy PlayStation or Xbox video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600!  With games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your screen guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination!!!  And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen... Forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!


You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing!  You had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel!!! NO REMOTES!!! Oh, no, what's the world coming to?!?!  (Admit it....you've continued watching something awful when you realized your remote was dead...)

There was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning.  Do you hear what I'm saying? We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little rat-finks!

And we didn't have microwaves. If we wanted to heat something up, we had to use the stove! Imagine that!
And our parents told us to stay outside and play... all day long. Oh, no, no electronics to soothe and comfort.
And if you came back inside... you were doing chores!
And car seats - oh, please! Mom threw you in the back seat and you hung on.  If you were luckily, you got the "safety arm" across the chest at the last moment if she had to stop suddenly, and if your head hit the dashboard, well that was your fault for calling "shot gun" in the first place!

See! That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy.
You're spoiled rotten! You guys wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1980 or any time before!


So now of course I'm sitting here remembering more hard times...the days before 'instant' anything - oatmeal, jello, pudding....where you had to plan ahead for a meal....

Or when you had to enter the actual bank to withdraw money - in all honesty, I'm not even sure people still work INSIDE the banks...other than the tiny leprechauns that work the ATMs.

Or when your dog could take a dump anywhere and you weren't run down by the bag-your-poo-police.

I remember when we got our first VCR...and the 'remote' was attached to the box by a wire that we had to avoid tripping over during showtimes. Or our first computer - a Tandy - that was little more than a typewriter.

Now I have so many electronics in my house, purse and workbag that I'm probably glowing.  I remember when work wasn't something you COULD take home with you even if you wanted to.  There were actual weekends and holidays where you were off the grid and nobody thought anything of it - they were off the grid, too.

Now, as I prepare to take a three week hiatus...I'm having to remind my team daily that I will be out of contact - for it is such a foreign concept.  

Remember, my trusty sales team, when there wasn't twelve ways to reach your assistant?  Well...hard times are a-comin...






 

Yeah, yeah...white after Labor Day...but what about in Europe?

I'm pretty much knee deep in packing for the big trip (t-minus 14 days until take-off).

While I'd done a stellar job of organizing the process - with three different spreadsheets - I was having a hard time actually getting to the listed tasks.  Then on Monday, my brother called full of reasons as to why I should get cracking.  I suspect this phone call was bred from a phone call to my brother from mama indicating that I might be stressing out over the whole project.  Yes, my family knows me well....

So - finally, I scampered up the stairs and decided to use the series premiere of 'Bachelor Pad' as company to the chaos (on a side note - I'm now addicted to this show). 

I've opted to use actors to represent the stages so far.  (When did the word 'actress' go away?  Have you noticed everyone, male and female alike, is now an 'actor'?)

Stage One:  Pull out everything I own and measure it up to the size of my suitcase (one suitcase per passenger please).  Feel a rush of panic as the realization that I cannot take everything I own with me washes over me like an ice-cold-now-you're-awake! shower.

Stage Two:  Start digging through the pile and justify why each piece should make the trip.  Attempt to block out any voices saying things like, "But that shirt's never been ANYWHERE outside of Raleigh - it DESERVES a trip" 

Stage Three:  Begin editing clothes down by color.  In my case - black and white (and a few odd colored pants for touring (well, not really 'odd' - just not black.  Or white)).  Please note the clothing below does not resemble anything I own in real life - however, they are all great looks for people who can pull them off.

Stage Four:  Ziploc and Suitcase.  If you ever travel abroad, it's genius to pack everything in the two gallon Ziplocs...that way when your suitcase gets nabbed for a random search (which ALWAYS happens to me so I suspect it's not so random...which is weird because I've never been much of a drug-runner) the authorities have an easy way to pick through everything without having to then stuff it all back in.  Just a few items per bag.  This also gives you more room in your suitcase if you squish all the air out of the Ziplocs before closing them.

And, I'm ready!  Well almost - as of yesterday, my suitcase weighed 34lbs -well below the 50lb limit.  Which leaves me room to pack 16lbs of underwear and hair care products.  Sweet!

I realize this seems early to be packed for a trip that's two weeks away - but I've got some busy times coming up...so with this out of the way, I can free up some space to discuss my white capris...

I packed white capris - and Mama mentioned maybe that was a bit too summery (she's probably right since it's averaging 60 degrees where we'll be).  BUT...now that all my Ziplocs match, there's no turning back.

Then I got thinking - hold the phone - I realize we have an unwritten rule HERE about white after Labor Day ~ but I'll be in Oslo...so I should be good right? 

Which, of course led me to some research on this rule...or, as I now will call it - this Old Wive's Tale....

It seems that nobody really knows WHY we are relegating our white wear to the summer months...but here are some theories:

*  White reflects the sun better, so isn't so neccessary in the Fall to Spring months (I'm guessing the people in, say, Cuba would disagree.  And it's generally a 'lighter' fabric - so back in the day when folks didn't wear shorts and tshirts...it was more comfortable in the hot months.

*  White used to symbolize leisure-time...like in the 1920's...almost any picture you find from that era shows working folks in very dark clothing - therefore, during vacation periods, they switched to white.  (Although, I find this theory has some holes in it - what with all photography being BLACK and WHITE.

*  With the arrival of Fall came heavy Fall rains...and the danger of mud...so wearing white in the Fall was a laundry danger.  Which makes sense because back then I'm guessing washers weren't the C3PO's that they are today.

*  The white rule actually started with shoes...and then worked its way up until anything white on your whole body was included.  Of course, winter brides were exempt.

*   There is even a theory that the white rule started down south...here...and was more of a dividing of the classes between who could afford more than one wardrobe (summer...and the rest of the year...).  Although that one says you can start wearing white after Easter...much sooner than Memorial Day.

But, the best news of all - it seems the rule has gone out the window. 

Coco Chanel was considered super fashion forward for wearing white yearround...

Michelle Obama wore a white inaugural gown. 

Heck, the Pope wears white everyday!

Nearly every website I hit in this dubious research paper responds to the age old rule with encouragement to make your own rules... 

Which is lucky, because I always have. 

We'll just call this one...Therapy.

I know you all think I only have three emotions:  happy, sarcastic and annoyed. 

Currently it's none of the three - so apologies off the top for having an almost 'serious' sounding post.  This is your chance to exit now. 

I warned you.

For those of you who know me really, really, really well...you know I have one remaining grandparent ~ Grandma Marty.  Although to be honest, by the time I finish this post, that may not be accurate.  You also know that my relationship with her can be split into two halves.  The half where spending time with her was a joyous occasion.  And the other half.

I don't remember grandma living anywhere but at the beach - North Myrtle Beach - where she and my grandpa moved when I was still in the single digit age bracket.  I know they lived other places...but my memories start there, on Golf View Drive. 

I remember driving hours and hours to get there from our house in Pennsylvania (can you say "Towanda"?).  My brother, sister and I jammed into one vehicle or another - eventually a sweet maroon mack daddy van with a pull out bed and mini-fridge.  Styling.

I remember sitting quietly in the back seat while my dad tried to worm his way out of a ticket.  Fail.

I remember the excitement of arrival - even the very first time, when I could not for the life of me figure out where the second floor of their house was.  This was the first house I'd ever seen that included all rooms on one story - a concept I couldn't seem to understand.  Surely, there was a hidden staircase somewhere.

I remember being allowed to make the trek to the beach - across the streets, onto the golf course paths, along the ponds where we'd speed up to avoid looming alligator attacks.  And finally, we'd cross 17 to the beach. 

See, when I was a kid, 17 was a spit of a road - safe for young children strapped with rafts and lugging beach chairs to cross parent-free.  If you've been to Myrtle Beach lately - you know those days are long gone.

I remember my grandfather cooking out in the backyard while I tried to teach my brother various types of cartwheels.  Fail.

I remember falling asleep on their chaise lounge in the backyard - and feeling comfort as the whole chair was lifted back into the shade.

I remember the make-your-own-sundae shop - mecca to anyone short of their teen years.  Rows of ice cream and toppings ripe for the building.

It's weird that this is the stuff that is coming back to me tonight - all these parts of the 'happy' half. 

It's also weird that I'm not at all inclined to describe the 'after.'  Because suddenly those years seem smaller and less important.  It's like I had a rock in my hand big enough to hurt when I squeezed - but tossed in a lake, it became just a tiny piece at the bottom. 

So while I have a lot of years built up of wishing I had a different relationship with her - I can look back (at this minute anyway) and see a lot of years where it was good. 

I have spent a lot of time in the past few days doing some sort of emotion check with myself:

Do I feel relief?  A little. More so for my aunt who has been to war helping my grandma work towards her next journey.

Do I feel regretful?  Not really.  I did the best I emotionally could.

Do I feel sad?  Yeah, maybe more than I was expecting to.

Do I still wish things could have been different?  Of course - but then I think of how this path has shaped me - and in a lot of ways, I'm content with how it worked out.

So, for now - I'll wait for the tidal wave of the next few days.  And I'll pocket this list of happy times to carry with me along the ride.

I didn't lose a friend...I gained a friend-in-law....

This has been a crazy, crazy summer - super busy...and I can't believe that one of the 'big' events is now in the past.  Yet...I'm so happy that it lived up to the hype.

Know what I mean?  Ever had something you were looking SO forward to, only to have it just be average?  Like maybe a big birthday or a class reunion?  Well - last week was my 20ten Summer Tour.  And it was everything it was marketed to be.

You remember - it started with a trip to Anne Marie's house to visit with her and my lil buddy, Jack.  It was a quick trip in and out on the way to West Chester, but she and I are always able to pack in lots of good talk  - and we did.

We visited the living history show out at the battlefields near her house (yeah...the field where Lori's dad used to live...we know...).  Mainly it was an excuse to let Jack run wild while we worked off the damage from Cracker Barrel (eggs-in-a-basket, anyone?).

It worked - he got pretty worn out.  And so did we. Still, it was actually cool to see these 'living historians' doing their best to repeat a few days in the exact style that they would have back in the Revolutionary times.

At least that's what they told us - that they spent the weekend mimicking life in the 1700's.  (Okay, it could have been the 1800's.  I have no idea actually).  They had tents and quilts (mind you, it was 90 degrees out...) and cook stoves to prove it.

Which is why I was a bit surprised on Sunday to see the group of them exiting a van and entering the Cracker Barrel on my way out of town.  I'm not saying THEY were wrong.  I'm just saying, I didn't know Cracker Barrel had been around that long.

And onward....

You already saw a good summary of the week in the last blog - but, not the BIG day.  Some near catastrophes:
* The second I crossed the boarder into Pennsylvania...I developed a wicked case of ragweed nostril explosion.  There's nothing quite as exciting as realizing you are developing a sickness days before one of your closest friend's wedding.
* I also developed Prickly Heat.  Now...I don't mean to brag...but I'm from North Carolina.  Where it's generally hotter than hell.  And humid.  And I like it.  If I walk outside and develop sweat beads on my ankles (that's for you, Bob), I'm happy as can be.  So how is it possible that I would develop Prickly Heat - a rash that appears when your body can't handle the heat - in a state that generally runs 15 degrees cooler than my own?  WTF anyone??  My saving grace is that the really, um, prickly areas were unseen by the public.  If you ever get this affliction - just start with Butt Paste.  It seems to be the best cure I've found. Beer also helps.

Okay, enough about me.

On the hottest day of the year...in the blazing sun...sweat pooling in so many places that the grass in the viewing area was puddled...Amy & John got hitched!

I laughed, I cried, I had the usual "this is never going to be me" moments of despair, followed by several moments of "I'd like the signature cocktail."

I caught up with bunches of buddies from the past - the old gang hasn't changed a bit - although Britt's father looked an awful lot like my brother  (Jeff got to be a last minute seat filler - and played the role of Floyd perfectly).

I got to go nuts with the Fancy Cam - definitely not the most important event of the weekend, but still...here are some faves...

This one is a reminder to all future brides (oh wait...I think I'm it, right?) to bring a nice hanger to the bridal suite.

And this one - well, what can I say - I love it.

And, in case you hadn't heard - I did catch the bouquet.  Granted, it was a private tossing between Amy, myself and the photographer (proof is important).  This was probably the safest way to do it as I guaranteed a smack down to any of the young ladies who thought they were going to try and get in my way.  Either way I would have won - this just had less First Aid potential.

And now I'm in the post-wedding-rut.  A bit.

I still smile several times a day with flashbacks from the week.

Like when the power went out at my brother's house and we decided to kill time (at 1.30am) by trying to put up as many Facebook updates as we could.

Or when Amy when to Panic Level Thirteen over the misplacement of her car keys meaning she couldn't drive her car which was full of wedding stuff to the place o'marriage.  And then she found them.  In her purse.

I'm still catching up on my sleep.
My liver is still detoxing.
I went to the gym today and remembered my pledge to work out everyday during the 20ten tour (the failed pledge).

And I'm still coated in Butt Paste...although it's getting better.

Wedding Week!! But about me...

I made it to Pennsylvania on Sunday - after a quick stop at my friend's in Virginia.  While at Anne Marie's, I learned that, allegedly, you cannot train babies to sleep in on the weekends.  What???  On the flip side...they are pretty entertaining at that hour. 

Maybe I should start going to bed before dark, getting up before light...maybe I will be more active at go-time.  Nah...not worth the gamble.

And across the borders I went!  Until finally, like an oasis in the desert....

I heart you, Wawa....for my brethren down South - this is what a Wawa looks like....inside it's chock full of goodness in the form of delicious coffees, stuffed soft pretzels (I prefer cinnamon cream cheese), hoagies made fresh to order, Tastykakes...and of course, you can gas up the car as well.  If you ever make it past Richmond...make sure you stop and try a treat.

Okay - big surprise from Amy & John.  Amy had told me that I should keep the night of the 20th open - for a night out.  I proudly resisted the urge to stalk the "Things To Do" in Philadelphia websites for a few weeks so it would really be a surprise.  I mean, of course, I totally figured out it was going to be a Phillies game and was looking forward to it.

Went over to visit with them Sunday afternoon - and was handed an envelope with my ticket inside.  My ticket to the Phillies game.  That read "Natalie Merchant" and "Merriam Theater".  Come again???

SO EXCITED!!!!  I have no idea how I won the Amy-is-my-friend Lottery, but times like this remind me how lucky I am!  Fantastic surprise!!

For the under, um...we'll say 25 crowd...Natalie Merchant is a SINGER.  She was the lead in 10,000 Maniacs, which is a BAND.  Her voice is ridiculous...and it never really looks like she's putting any effort into singing.  And her songs are amazing...I promise, if you've ever had even one emotion, she's written something to describe it perfectly. 

The show was last night - the theater was super small, really not a bad seat to be found (oh, John - there are 1,870 seats).

The first half of the show was dedicated to her new album.  Which I don't have.  And is written from her research and adaptation of poems...many of which I'd never heard.  Well, it was fabulous.  The music was enough on it's own - but, of course, her songs were just so good.

There was a moment of minor panic when she wrapped up the poetry songs...and said good night.  I mean, it was already a fun night...but were we really not going to hear anything else?  Fear not - back out on stage she came for another two sets of acoustical bliss. 

Now, because you know me...you know I'll need to pick on someone or something right?  Well, I've got two, actually.

First...the cell phone addiction.  We had two gals sitting in front of us who were literally texting their way through the show.  They spent more time with there phones open and beaming a glowing light into our faces than Natalie actually spent singing.  They probably could have saved a buttload of money if they'd just sat on their couches, popped in a Natalie Merchant CD and texted each other.  Would have been the same event.

Yes....I did eventually say something...and was pretty nice (I think?) - just asking them to turn off their phones.  It worked...and they eventually left before the show was over.  I really can't imagine what is SO urgent that you've got to text your way through a show.  In the dark.  Where your phone is the brightest thing in the room.  (Refer to "Urgent" Blog).

Second...and I know...this is a Jyl-ism...and yet it drives me crazy...Why is it that people feel the need to scream out songs at a concert?  Do they not think the artist already has a planned list?  Are they not aware that the artist probably has done a show or two before and may have a plan in mind?

For example...go to any James Taylor concert in Raleigh and you will hear people screaming "CAROLINA IN MY MIND!!!" over and over.  I'm just going to throw this out there - if James Taylor is playing IN North Carolina, do you not think he might sing that very song?

It's like suspecting the Village People are going to skip YMCA at summer camp.  It's happening, my friends...no need to offer directions.

And after watching Natalie Merchant, I have to say, I'm not sure I'd mess with her - she seems to be way smarter than me....and pretty firm.  She called out every person arriving late - and not in the nice, "Hey, there, welcome to the show..." kind of call-out.  It was more of a "You've missed seven songs...there was no opening band" kind of call-out.  Hard core.  Love it.

 A huge thanks to Amy & John for an amazing night - sorry I had to sneeze my way through it (yes, summer cold...thanks for making your annual appearance at the most inconvenient time). 

Is Over-Packing really a thing?

I kept meaning to take pictures of all the piles of clothes laying around my house right now - but then when I get motivated to do so...I get a little camera shy.

I'm knee deep in getting ready for the big trip north.

It's almost Amy & John's Wedding Week! 

Here's a list of what I've got out so far - see if you can guess how long I'll be gone:
Six Dresses
Four pairs of Capris
Four pairs of Shorts
Two more pairs of Shorts (the kind I can go for a walk in if I feel excercise-ful)
One pair of Shorts (the kind you like to lay around the house in after you ate too much)
Four T Shirts
Three 'nicer' Shirts
Swimsuit (no, there isn't a pool.  But it's good to be prepared)
Three Tank Tops
Two Tank Tops (the kind you wear under other tank tops)
Black Sandals
Brown Sandals
Brown Sandals (these are more casual)
Sneakers
Sneakers (the kind I'd wear out and about but not for above walks)
Flip Flops
Black Flats
Two Cardigans
PJs
12 pack of Diet Dr Pepper
Twizzlers
M&Ms
Cooler
Dog Food
Dog Bed
Dog Crate
Dog Blanket
Pillow for me
Blow Dryer, Straightener, etc.
Presents for people I meet along the way

Okay, that's it so far.  Did you guess how long I'll be gone? 

Ten Days. 

Now - when I type out the list and say 'ten days', I feel like it's fine - when I look at the piles in my guest room, I start thinking how in the world I'm going to convince the beagle to ride on the roof.

Men pack differently than women.  I'm told.

For ten days, I imagine a dude would bring:
One pair of shorts
Five pairs of socks
Three T Shirts
One button down
Khakis
Five pairs of undies that he will just turn inside out for extended wear.

Ironically - this is probably more than I'll be taking on my three week trip at the end of the summer over to the Baltic Sea...but nobody knows me there.  They can just imagine that I usually wear the same pair of pants five days in a row - and I won't care.

I can hardly believe I'm two days away from hitting 95 North!  Although, not surprised.  The day I met John...I knew...Amy was had. 

Which means I should probably start paring down the packing piles into something that will actually fit into my car, allow me to see out the windows AND not explode out when the doors are opened.  But, as a woman...I think it's perfectly fine to bring along as much of your closet as possible.  It's about options.

Much like my dating life.
Not.  Not like that at all.

Just last Saturday night I had a closet episode.  I was getting ready for a picnic with friends (people who already know me...who I don't have to impress) and I went through about TEN outfits before I settled on the first one.  Nothing felt right. 

Imagine if I were 8 hours from my closet when that happened.  Disastrous. 

So tonight...I will walk by the piles again...satisfied that no snow has formed at the high altitudes they are now reaching.

And tomorrow, I will squeeze it all into suitcases while secretly hoping there is still room for more.