I have this horrifying vision playing on a loop in my head.

A flurried version of me. Lost in a foreign airport hustle, all sweaty and anxious, with hair in my face. Frantically fingering through my purse to grab at my glasses while fumbling the unnecessary sweater I have looped over my arm- the outerwear to which I’ve been clinging like a child and her blankey for some semblance of security.

The dropped sweater falls to the ground and as I clumsily reach an outstretch toe to sweep it safely back into my funnel cloud of chaos, it tangles around my feet while another bag jarringly drops from its precarious balancing place on my shoulder to the crook of my elbow with all the authority of gravity, causing me to loosen my grip the aforementioned purse…

And now important paperwork, (like passports and boarding passes), are being carried away by swelling gusts of wind created by sliding glass doors and passing luggage carts, and running, screaming children.

And…

(Okay. Deep breath.)

I’m sitting here getting ready for my first big international adventure and can already tell that I am NOT going to be one of those graceful travelers.

You know the kind…

Those fearless, bandanna-clad, “who-cares-if-I-shave”, “it-will-all-work-out” girls?

The kind who “gets ready” in less than 5 minutes and looks painfully hip while slinging around her over-sized back pack (which is, by the way, the ONE and only piece of luggage she’ll be toting for her 3 week stay in “where-ever-I-end-up”).

And while wearing only cherry chapstick, hand-woven sandals and a gauzy dress, she shrugs her shoulders and says things like: “I’m not sure where I’m staying tonight- guess I’ll figure it out.”

And how do I know I won’t be like that?
(If you know me at all, you just KNOW I won’t- but I’ll happily provide some evidence to my point.)

For starters, I’m laying on my bedroom floor staring at piles of clothes, thinking:

-What if we go out a couple nights and I want my gold AND silver stilettos? Can I pack both without being “that girl”?

-Is it legal to bring bug spray with DEET into other countries?

-How do I say, “Is that low fat?” in Japanese?

-What do I even pack my stuff IN? A suitcase? A Duffel?

-How much hair product will I need for 12 days?

-What do I wear on the plane?

-Are 20-minute showers considered inappropriate in other countries?

AHHH!

I can FEEL the impending fear as it builds in my chest.

(Deep breath, sloooooow exhale.)

So, okay, I won’t be the embodiment of world-traveler chic.

I will, however, survive.

Right?

Yes, I have run in the morning since the last post, however, a few more pressing events have been taking up metal real estate.

Layoffs, Halloween, and networking AND “what the hell do I do now” in particular.

More on that soon.

Just didn’t want to ignore my blog.

I’ve got a bit of a traffic jam happening right now- my thoughts are not being obedient to the zipper effect required for a successful merge onto this information super highway. Everything wants out at once, creating quite the back-up… which is preventing me from any semblance of solid blogging right now.

Additionally, metering lights were replaced with wine this week- also not so helpful to productivity.

Off to a baby shower. Which will no doubt induce some whiny blog entry about redundant shower games and the torture we inflict on one another… until of course, it is OUR turn. At which point the baby shower becomes either “get-backs” or a “celebration” resulting from pregnancy amnesia. (yeah, I made that up, but SOMEONE should document it as medical fact. In addition to thinking baby showers are great, symptoms include: forgetting how much you previously HATED to hear about things like Chapter 11 of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, any community center class beginning with “Mommy and Me …” and to be reminded of how NOT pregnant/married/ grown-up you are.)

Having said that. I AM excited to see my friend. Just wish it wasn’t over gift opening and cake.