Part of me wanted to pack three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and some underwear. It was ambushed and set on fire by the part of me that is preparing for Africa's Next Top Model.
So I have two carry-ons and two suitcases with questionable sartorial choices that may not make it to my final destination. As The Man is now my personal friend and called me on Saturday to make sure I'd received my visa, I'm thinking of casually name-dropping during what will likely be a highly charged conversation with a flight attendant trying to make me throw away 15 sticks of eyeliner (not happening). Unfortunately, I was informed his name does not sound African, but possibly Chinese (which led to some worry that I'd contacted the wrong embassy - but that's another story of another stress-related ulcer).
After I'd had my passport and hard-won visa Fed-Ex'd to me overnight (which may have cost me my firstborn's kidney - I'm waiting for the charge and then Rumpelstiltskin in a suit), I packed (too much), coordinated airport rides (next time I will include maps), and let people know that I was finally going to stop whining!
(Ha.)
However, as I didn't quite have time for detailed instructions...
To my Mom (spectacularly toasted, tendency to waffle, adorable)
Instructions: Take care of yourself
Remember: You have enough clothes and scarves
To my Second Mom (could use a tan, tendency to whinge, perfect)
Instructions: Hang on
Remember: Everything
To my brother
Instructions: Earn lots of money and flex those days
Remember: I'm not making money or flexing days
To my dog
Instructions: GRRrr BARK BARK BARK belligerentWOOFwoof
Remember: Children are friends, not food
To my friends/church family
Instructions: Write me
Remember: I don't need anything and I'll know even less about Beyonce, Adele, and No Direction
To my myriad frogs
Instructions: Don't be lonely
Remember: I love you
So long, Edmonton - as Megara says in Hercules: It's been a reeeeal slice.
So I have two carry-ons and two suitcases with questionable sartorial choices that may not make it to my final destination. As The Man is now my personal friend and called me on Saturday to make sure I'd received my visa, I'm thinking of casually name-dropping during what will likely be a highly charged conversation with a flight attendant trying to make me throw away 15 sticks of eyeliner (not happening). Unfortunately, I was informed his name does not sound African, but possibly Chinese (which led to some worry that I'd contacted the wrong embassy - but that's another story of another stress-related ulcer).
After I'd had my passport and hard-won visa Fed-Ex'd to me overnight (which may have cost me my firstborn's kidney - I'm waiting for the charge and then Rumpelstiltskin in a suit), I packed (too much), coordinated airport rides (next time I will include maps), and let people know that I was finally going to stop whining!
(Ha.)
However, as I didn't quite have time for detailed instructions...
To my Mom (spectacularly toasted, tendency to waffle, adorable)
Instructions: Take care of yourself
Remember: You have enough clothes and scarves
To my Second Mom (could use a tan, tendency to whinge, perfect)
Instructions: Hang on
Remember: Everything
To my brother
Instructions: Earn lots of money and flex those days
Remember: I'm not making money or flexing days
To my dog
Instructions: GRRrr BARK BARK BARK belligerentWOOFwoof
Remember: Children are friends, not food
To my friends/church family
Instructions: Write me
Remember: I don't need anything and I'll know even less about Beyonce, Adele, and No Direction
To my myriad frogs
Instructions: Don't be lonely
Remember: I love you
So long, Edmonton - as Megara says in Hercules: It's been a reeeeal slice.
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At the risk of sounding desperate - PLEASE WRITE TO ME!