First, I want to say that I had no desire on earth to ever go to NYC. If you know me at all, I'm about as Iowa as they come. Small town, born and raised, summers spent picking corn, even this summer I raised money for a trip by taking seven layers of shingles off a roof with nothing but a pitchfork and a crow-bar. I enjoy quiet walks with my dog in nature, going to bed early, grilling out on my deck, doing yoga in my back yard, watching college football, driving around and listening to old country music, cooking my meals, and wearing sweatpants all day if I feel like it...
But after I got to the city and got over the mortifying shock of paying $7 for a bottle of bud light (that literally had me contemplating getting right back on a plane and heading back to Iowa), I somehow, fell right into place (well, it was more hitting the ground running, than falling into place). I found the people were nice, not rude like they're stereotyped. My theory about the city, and well anywhere you go, is that it is what you make it, and I made New York my home and loved it.
There's something about the city's electric atmosphere that makes you compelled to GO GO GO! You don't want to miss anything and are inspired to give every opportunity your all with a fabulous sense of confidence and energy that screams "I can be myself and I can do anything!" And needless to say, while being single and 30, New York is a pretty awesome place to be yourself!
Of course, the devastation that hurricane Sandy caused, made things hard. With the transportation system shut down and most of the city out of power, the thriving metropolis turned into an eerie ghost town over night. Something about the city's atmosphere was sadly different, so I took it upon myself to assemble a team of some of the greatest scientific minds available to me, to investigate exactly what was wrong and what we needed to do to get the real New York up and running again quickly!! So we went deep into the subway system to investigate rumors of a river of radioactive pink slime that had leaked into the city...
After traveling deep into the subway and then the sewer systems to find the source of this radioactive slime... we realized that something strange was happening to us. We had been immersed in the slime for too long, and well, that's when things got really radical...
Luckily we met a giant rat sensei who taught us ninja and we were able to fight off the evil Shredder and help restore New York back to normal.
Here are a few other things I did:
Ate frozen sweetcorn in Queens
Helped some friends make a sketch comedy
Found Iowa
City in the middle of Manhattan, at the Irish Exit - Iowa Hawkeye Bar
Heard a security guard at the Jets game
in Jersey say "fugetaboutit" 38 times
Was nearly kicked out of Yankee Stadium in the Bronx
Danced a jig on The Mall in DC
Posed for pictures with bus loads of Chinese tourists in
front of the White House... seriously, there was a single file line of tourists waiting to get pictures with us...
Took on Brooklyn, and Brooklyn won... Luckily there is no actual photo of me, but I can bet it looked something close to this... Late night + Heels + Brooklyn =
Ate the
entire cheese platter at a fancy election night party at the Waldorf
Astoria, and told a some highbrow political guy wearing a pin-striped suit that he made a great Dick Tracy, but needed a tommy gun to really pull it off
Cried and prayed at the 9/11 Memorial Site
Met and became great friends with some of the most wonderful people on earth
When honestly, nearly 70 percent of my time in the city looked a lot like this, in an edit lab in SoHo...
No one may actually know the truth of how New York was so quickly restored after hurricane Sandy
"Ground Control to Major Tom, Commencing Countdown Engines On, Check Ignition and may God's love be with you...."
I sang to myself while waiting in line to board the over-booked Boeing 777 that seated over 300 on our non-stop flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg. People were frantic and impatient, wanting to get on to ensure that their seat was empty, and then there was the issue of trying to find overhead space for carry-ons. My seat was in row 54 of 57, so I was near the end of the line for boarding. Which is one thing I will never understand why they don't board the back of the plane first, seems like common sense, but I'm sure they have their reasons.
When I finally approach my row, I see a jolly looking man in his
sixties with a gray beard, wearing denim shorts, a denim button-up short
sleeved shirt with a few buttons open at the top where salt and pepper chest hair spilled out, and a safari hat. Sean Connery was to Indiana Jones as
this guy was to Crocodile Dundee. He sat next to the window with an
empty seat between him and the hefty man (I guessed early 40's) with a nice smile who sat next to
the aisle. After 10 minutes of trying to find any open overhead bin for
my carry-on, I squish between the two men. The older man next to the
window introduced himself as "Red," in a deep raspy voice with a tint
of liquor on his breath. Red was from a small town in Illinois and he
and his son, who sat on my other side, were also headed to South Africa for the first time
on a mission – to hunt... I asked if they
would like to sit next to each other so they could talk but they both quickly
declined. "Nah, have to spend the next 10 days with him, we don't need to talk," said the son with a laugh. I found it a little funny that they purposely booked those seats, and would rather
have a random stranger sit between them, than either of them have
to sit in the middle. But I didn't mind, they seemed nice.
The pilot came over the speaker before takeoff mentioning that they
would need to restart the one engine. Me and everyone else who knew
nothing about Boeing 777's, eyes widened at the vague message. Red's well-educated son
leaned over and said that this was a two engine jet and they usually
only use one engine to move the plane while its grounded. But if one of
the two engines did go out while flying that this plane was designed to
be able to fly with just one engine.
Then Red leaned over and said "How far does one engine get ya? All
the way to the scene of the crash!" He busted out in a cackle so loud
that half the plane turned around to see what was the matter.
"Oh Red" I laughed.
Most of the 17 hour flight is spent sleeping since we boarded at night and the inside of the cabin is kept dark, with all windows closed, as we fly into the lit sky going the counter direction of the earth's rotation and gaining 7 hours of day light. Each seat was equipped with it's own TV and hundreds of movies, TV shows, and games to
choose from. Naturally, I watched The Lion King and sang to "Hakuna
Matata" figuring that Red and his son were watching and had a complete change of heart regarding their hunting safari after seeing how silly/cute Timone and Pumba can be.
When flying for an extended amount of time, you have the privilege to witness strangers in their most natural state: unconsciousness. There is nothing to hide and not a more honest way to judge witness someone whether its from little moans, soft sighs or breaths, or like the guy who sat two seats away sawing logs louder than I think I've ever heard anyone snore, making me very glad that I brought headphones and sleeping pills.
There is also a general consensus of hospitality while flying (at least there was with Red and his son who were very polite and always checking how I was doing) of making sure your neighbors are as comfortable as they can possibly be while in the most uncomfortable situation that you could ever imagine of being squished into eachother's space, forced to sleep sitting up, all while letting strangers have complete control of your life at 40,000 ft. above sea level and thousands of miles from home. Like herded cattle, we sit patiently, cooperatively, uncomfortably, and united with one mission in mind: to safely arrive at our destination. There really isn't more of a stressful situation that I can think of than this. Hence, serving drinks on the flight to ease the tension. Red sipped scotch and water and his son a Heineken, while I settled for water, it being a
church mission and all (obviously, not a Catholic church ;))
Through every little wave of turbulence the outside self says "Be cool, be cool. No big deal, just a little turbulence." While your inside self says "OH MY GOD! THIS IS IT! WE'RE GOING DOWN!!!"
Then through some of the worst bumpy and jolty turbulence when fear is no longer observable because its been going on for so long, comes the 5 stages of grief.
Denial: There is no way that God is going to let me and everyone else die in a plane crash on our way to help less fortunate people in Africa. No way!! Impossible!! Anger: G$D DAMMIT God! I never even got to see Italy!!! Negotiation: Well at least if I'm going to die people will remember that it was because I was doing something nice and not something stupid like drowning while trying to swim drunk across a river to another party boat like nearly happened last summer... Depression: I never got to tell Dolly goodbye. She'll think I abandoned her and don't love her :'( Acceptance: I totally imagine my funeral at this point (don't act like you've never done it) and the hundreds, no wait, thousands of people who will come and weep and mourn at the passing of such a remarkable woman. Someone says "Wendi would've wanted us to celebrate her life, not be saddened." Someone else cries out "But we can't help but be sad, she was so loved, how will we go on without her beautiful smile, mediocre humor, and borderline inappropriateness!?" The entire church stadium (they had to move the funeral to Kinnick Stadium because there were so many people) begins to sob outrageously, then Willie Nelson comes out on stage and sings "Angel Flying to Close to the Ground,""Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain," ending with "Blue Skies Smiling at Me,"and at that moment the overcast day clears up instantly and the sun comes out at which point a bald eagle flies over the stadium and drops an egg that lands on the 50 yard line, cracks open, and inside is a t-shirt with a picture of me standing next to a group of wolves howling at a moon with an American flag on it. Then a golf cart drives around the stadium and shoots these t-shirts into the stands and there is a standing ovation. The ceremony is followed by a tailgate concert inside the stadium featuring Willie, Mumford & Sons, and Alabama. Brats are grilled, hot wing are catered from The Vine, and my favorite beer, "Pete's Strawberry Blonde" is imported for the event. All of the Hawkeye players and coaches are in attendance to honor my memory and College Game Day is there to broadcast the event, where Kirk Herbstreit stands next to a bronze statue of me (that will later be placed at Kinnick, the Iowa State Capitol building, or in front of the courthouse in my hometown of Greenfield. There will be much debate over where it should reside before a final decision is made to share the statue and move it every 3 years). Donations are taken and sent to the children in Africa that I never made it there to help and a foundation is created to fully fund every animal shelter and close all puppy mills.
Then the captain comes over the speaker and says there is clear skies and it will be two hours before we land. People begin to open the windows and let sunlight into the cabin that had been dark nearly the entire flight. The flight attendants serve our final meal and Red takes one bite of his African hot pocket seasoned with cumin and curry and spits it out. "I won't be able to sleep for a week if I eat this spicy crap." Then he asks for another scotch and water and offers me the window seat so I can look out.
Not sure if I
was just starving the whole time or if this was delicious but I ate mine
and all of Red's. Weird spicy vegetarian hot pocket thing on the left
that was really good, fresh fruit, and chickpea salad.
Ah!!! Africa!! We made it! I stare out the window for a long, long, long time before I ever see any sign of civilization. It was relieving when I finally saw a road because for quite some time it looked as if our jet had turned into a rocket ship overnight and taken us to Mars.
Entering Africa!
"Here's my headphones if you wanna watch Puss and Boots," said Red as I sleepily pressed my head to the window, with a zombie-like stare out into the foreign world. I look up to the screen in front of me where Red had been seated and sure enough Puss and Boots was playing. I laughed a little and told him I was good. I liked Red and think we were on a level of mutual understanding that if it was ok for me to watch and sing to The Lion King, then gosh darnit he was going to enjoy a little Puss and Boots.
We arrived in Johannesburg on schedule and it was already sunset when we landed. Losing an entire day to flying truly did make it feel like we were in another world. As we exited the plane, I spotted my team and Red spotted an African man holding a sign that read, "Red," just like the word embroidered with red thread on the top of his carry-on. We both looked at eachother, both knowing that we were going our separate ways and with our goodbye we'd likely never meet again. I don't know how to explain it but I really felt a connection with Red and his son, though I honestly didn't know anything about them except that they were very nice Midwestern folks heading to Africa to hunt. I'd had hours worth of conversation with people on flights, people in bars, hell, even some family members and felt less of a connection than I did with them. I think maybe he reminded me of my dad some and he actually had mentioned, very briefly under his breath, like he didn't want to talk about it but got a kick out of the fact, that his estranged daughter's name was also Wendi and she lived in Iowa.
"Bye Red!" I said.
"Well, bye there little lady. Good luck there on your mission." We were both carrying luggage and heading in opposite directions but both stopped for a second to see if we should hug. (Some advice: If you ever feel like you should maybe hug, just do it.) I, unfortunately, kept my cool and slowly moved away first.
"Good luck with your mission too!" I smiled and laughed, and so did he.
"Be safe there little lady, take care," said his kind raspy voice and I wished him the same as we went our separate ways.
Out of all of the tons of hugs I gave in Africa, I still wish Red would've been one of them...
There is a place where all of us long to go when we're feeling lost or in need of that familiar homey comfort that seems to leave a gaping hole with its absence. ... Miranda Lambert sings about it in "The House That Built Me," I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing. John Denver sings, Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong... Eddie Money sings, Take Me Home Tonight...Ok, maybe that's not relevant, but you get the picture, there's a lot of songs out there about the longing to go home. (You can thank me for not including the Eddie Money music video... I really wanted too because the song is obviously awesome and I adore low budget 80s videos, but the video is so pathetically disappointing that its an insult to the song itself. Such expectation... such disappointment.)
There was a time in my life that I felt this comfort. The place where I once found serenity, security, and felt so surely that I belonged. The place where I spent that awkward late teens to early 20s where you grow from a child into an adult and learn all on your own the responsibilities of finances, friendships, work, relationships, education, etc. (P.S. No one can ever say for sure if I actually ever fully became a real adult even with these responsibilities.) A place where, for the first time, your decisions are your own and the consequences are yours to deal with. Some of the scariest and some of the absolute best times of your life... A place where you became the person you are... A place where dressing for the day was throwing on a pair of sweatpants and your favorite hooded sweatshirt, where you were praised for being creative and being yourself, where you only had enough money to buy eggs and coffee for groceries but it didn't bother you because money wasn't important, where good friends were plentiful, where classic rock never got old and Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" was your theme to live by, and where the magnificence of being a Hawkeye and walking into Kinnick Stadium on game day was comparable to being there as an Israelite when Moses parted the Red Sea.
This place for me is Iowa City.
I came for the day, just to visit my old refuge, like a boat to the harbor after years of being lost at sea. Some people, when they are feeling a bit lost or directionless, turn to the hometown they were raised in for comfort, good ol'Greenfield, Iowa, I love ya!... But Iowa City is where I really did my growing up.
I sit cross-legged on the ground at the entrance of empty Kinnick Stadium to marvel at the majestic statue of the great Nile Kinnick who stands as if a king proudly representing his empire. - For those who don't know (shame on you), Nile Kinnick attended the University of Iowa, won the 1939 Heisman Trophy, and was a consensus All-American, then died a few short years later while serving his country in World War II. Kinnick, born and raised in the small town of Adel, Iowa, was a gentleman, a man of faith and courage, and an iconic legend not only as an athlete but as a man. There are few greater representations of an American hero. After Kinnick's Heisman acceptance speech, Bill Cunningham of the Boston Post wrote, "This country's okay as long as it produces Nile Kinnicks. The football part is incidental."
It's huge bronze majesty staring down at me as I sit, so small, in its righteous glory and stare at the reflection of myself in the engraved shiny granite that holds the great man's captured memory several feet off the ground.
"...give me the courage and ability to so conduct myself in every situation that my country, my family and my friends will be proud of me." Nile Kinnick, Jr. Excerpted from an entry in his personal diary December 3, 1941
I looked through the words at the mirrored reflection of myself sitting there, kind of pitiful, as if a baby kitten looking up at a lion. But, I wasn't really thinking about anything except how freaking awesome this place was, forgetting the real reason I had longed to go back to Iowa City in the first place and maybe find something that I had lost.
A place, that for a awhile in my life, I actually felt I belonged. Then I look around and see a not so familiar look on the buildings and streets. Some places that I knew and loved were gone, replaced by something different that I no longer recognized. The people that I, at one time, so much related with now looked like children, staring at me thinking, "What is that crazy lady doing here, sitting on the ground in front of an empty stadium like a weirdo."
In a second, it's years later. And in my reflection of the stone, I see someone different. The me that once lived there would've never taken the time to sit and appreciate a moment like this. She would've looked at me and wondered "What is that crazy lady doing here, sitting on the ground in front of an empty stadium like a weirdo." That's when I realized the town hadn't changed all that much, but maybe I had.
Then, ironically, a van full of, what I assumed to be by their look and wear, visiting recruits and coaches, pulled up where there was no road and stopped the short distance directly between me and the statue. Their choice of words I found interesting. "We're lost, how do you get out of here?" The question indicated that I not only didn't look lost, but looked as though I maybe belonged. But, my choice of words equally as honest, "I don't know." Then, without thinking, I see myself pointing in the direction I came from... They thank me and drive away and I realize I had just answered the question that brought me here... I look up at the statue and smile.
Touché Mr. Kinnick... Thank you.
Engraved on the back of the Nile Kinnick statue.
The Vine Tavern and Eatery
I love taking a walk down Summit Street in the historic district.
Entrance at Kinnick Stadium
Super hot wings and spicy garlic wings at The Vine.
Took after I ate the super hot wings so I could remember how happy I was when I wasn't feeling so
happy about them the next day...
Before I'm even able to write about the incredible experiences of my trip to Africa, I find myself stuck in a rut of "now what?" What do I do with what I've seen and experienced now that I'm back? What do I do about anything and everything now that I'm back?
Bare with me, as I will, of course, and am excited to share the experiences of my trip. But, momentarily, I find myself lost in a reality that no longer seems real... Its hard to explain, but I feel as if I saw there, more of a reality that I've ever witnessed in my life... much more than our People Magazine gossiping, beer drinking, American Idol watching, Pinterest pinning, videos of cute kittens sharing, political ranting, sports obsessed, have the most, look the best, don't do anything out of the norm to draw attention to yourself, and everything that happens is about me, me, me, selfish and naive culture that has consumed our country. (Not to say that I'm not guilty of every single one of these things). But its easy to see and feel that we've somewhere lost a sense of what is really real...
In Africa, things were/are real. A real need, people just surviving day to day, real hunger, need of shelter, the commonality of death, the struggle for life, the lack of money and jobs, or clean water, but in spite of that a beautiful sense of gratefulness, smiles so sincere they they bring tears to your eyes, children that heartbreakingly cling to you just longing to feel any shred of love, an unconditional welcomeness from the villagers of hugs, laughter, and celebration that even your family wouldn't be able to express if you were found after missing for a year. A night sky that nearly brought me to my knees in absolute astonishment that anything seen with my merely human eyes could ever be so overwhelmingly beautiful. And a sense of God so powerful that you could feel it even in something as insignificant as the wind blowing through the long wheat colored grass on a cool dry morning.
So the reality that I return to, that once seemed so important, no
longer seems real at all in comparison. And along with it comes a sense
of despair and loneliness that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I
receive a phone call from my brother when I arrive in Atlanta that all
hell has broken loose in
my absence and that my father was looking again at prison time, luckily
the situation had resolved in a much less form of sanction, and all
without me needing to get thrown into the middle of the drama which is
what usually would happen, so I was grateful not to be a part of it.
With
that
weighing on my mind, along with the exhaustion of traveling and the
trip itself, I arrive in Des Moines, my home base, not nearly as excited
to be back as my teammates who's
families were waiting with open arms at the arrival
of their loved ones coming home. I, in turn, know that no one will be
there waiting for me. Which was fine, until the weight of coming from
such an uplifting trip of gratefulness and servitude, back to, well,
nothing really, finally set in...
And left me wondering if I'll ever have someone in my life to
share such experiences with and who longs for me to come back from afar.
Thus making me feel even more despair for
the past relationship mistakes I'd made, that constantly weigh on my
heart,... (I cringe to even confess such vulnerability and display of
weakness but honesty is unfortunately one of the burdens that comes with
writing.)
The trip, along with its most amazing experiences, was very emotionally,
physically, and most of all mentally draining. Not to mention the jet
lag and time difference of 7 hours and trying to cope with all I'd
learned. Much time has been spent sleeping since my return and an awesome trick I picked up is that lately I can
start crying at the drop of a hat about nothing... :/...still hoping its just from the exhaustion.
Friends
and family talk to me about conflicts and what's happened since I've
been gone. "Can you believe she did that?" "What should I do about what
they said?" "I can't believe people's nerve to do something like
this!"... I try to listen but my mind seems to wander off questioning if
any of it really even matters when people are out there with real
problems, just trying to survive day to day, wondering where their next
meal will come from or if they have a place to sleep that night, and
still in all of that being grateful...
P.S. By no means,
am I trying to be one of those people who are like "I went to Africa for
two weeks and now I know everything there is to know about the world and you know nothing!"
or "Your problems aren't problems, try living in Africa!" or "Oh, what did
you say was bothering you? That person who cut you off this morning?
Well, I saw a dead man lying in the middle of the road in Africa, hit by
a car, his body lying there for 40 minutes before anyone came or
bothered to cover his face! Sorry about getting cut off, you must be
devastated!!" or "You went to a lake and got wasted this summer...
that's cool... Oh me, I went to Africa, fed hungry children, gave people
glasses who couldn't see, you know, stuff like that..." ;) Ok, this is
the one time I get to use that last one...But we obviously take so much
for granted in America that its almost sickening. Even me moping about
no family or friends able to make it to roll out the red carpet for me
at the airport at 10:30am on a Wednesday! Get over it Wendi!! At least I
have a family and friends! And, a lot of people in this world, probably
most, will never even get to see an airport let alone be able to afford
to travel somewhere!
I do miss Africa, though!
The friends I met, the culture, the African people, the children, the
hopefulness, the open grasslands, the amazing wildlife, the gray
mountains against the bright blue sky, the beautiful nights, and the
overall sense that its ok to just be yourself, and that, that self, was
there to give and serve. It was constantly a good feeling and the most
amazing thing I've ever been able to experience in my life! And I'm
hoping that it'll be something I'm able to show in future
posts. One thing I can see now is that this trip, was not about "me, me,
me," but it was about Africa, and about God.
I explained it once that its as if you are a puzzle piece taken out of
your puzzle and, while away, your piece has been transformed in such a
way that when you come back and return to the puzzle, your piece no
longer fits... but in a good way...
Airports, the purgatory of the travel world. The waiting place between what awaits. Let's just agree that they're probably the least appealing part of a trip.
I think my most vivid first memory of an airport experience, isn't when I went to California on a trip to Disney World as a child, or when my brother and I flew on our own at age 9 back from visiting family in Oregon through some of the worst turbulence I've ever experienced. My most vivid first memory is a scene that forever replays in my mind when I think of flying. Its of the completely panicked McCallister's, frantically running through the airport, late for their flight to Christmas vacation in Paris. Meanwhile, never noticing that their son, Kevin, is missing from the group. Leave it to "Home Alone" to make a bigger impact on my life than my own childhood memories... (can't help it, I love Christmas movies.)
Maybe airports have gotten a bad rap... So I decided to try and make the most of my experience during my 10 hour layover at Atlanta International before I boarded a 17 hour flight to South Africa. (yes, you heard all of that right...)
First off, a much, MUCH, needed massage that I'd been dying to get since I exhausted my back tearing shingles off a steep roof 2 weeks ago, then driving for hours to another state, jet skiing, swimming, lack of sleep,... you get the picture... I needed a massage before this long flight... And thanks to Phillip's magic hands at Xpress Spa (and not the Indian man at information desk who offered to give "pretty lady free massage" when I asked where I could get one) I felt like a new person!
Lunch was great!! Not sure if I was starving or if this salad was the
best thing I've ever eaten, or if I was just happy to be in a little
quiet bookstore (looove bookstores, btw), or if it was the really strong
coffee... Probably all of thee above.
After lunch I wandered around the airport like a redneck at Walmart
for the next few hours... P.S. Atlanta International is HUGE but easy to
navigate. It's like a bunch of normal sized airports (by normal, I mean
much bigger than Des Moines International) all connected together.
I was really excited when I exchanged my U.S.
Dollars for Rand! Not only did I get 7.2 times as much back and felt super rich, but it was so
cool looking that I didn't even want to spend it!
Damn you Panda Express!! You got me!! No one would ever eat you if it wasn't for food courts!!!
So then came the waiting game. I had somehow managed to occupy myself for the first 7 hours, but by the last 3, I just wanted to get the hell on my way... Luckily, those hours were occupied some by meeting up with my mission team and doing lots of people-watching. Before WAY too long, it was time to leave the country I call home and spend the next couple weeks in a completely foreign land that would forever change my view on life.
Three days before I leave for Africa, I decide to go out of town (road trip out of state actually) to celebrate the 4th of July by boating with some my best friends! I know, great idea, right!? That's what I was thinking! Why not go on a mini vacation for 2 days before I'm prepared to leave for my trip to Africa in 3 days!?
But if you know me, you know that's just how I roll,...spontaneously. So, today was spent running around town getting everything ready so that I will be ready for my mission trip when I get back from my vacation (I know, life is rough, don't judge... and I'm kind of crazy, you can judge that part a little)...
Primero lo primero, empecé el día con un delicioso tortilla Mexicana para comenzar las cosas ¡Vale! (I don't speak Spanish and kind of doubt the free English to Spanish Translation did it justice so in Inglés it translates: First things first, I started the day with a yummy Mexican omelet to begin things right!)
My "¡Buenos Dias!" omelet included mushrooms, green peppers, onions, tomatoes, jalapenos, fresh cilantro, salt and pepper, 2 eggs, and sour cream and salsa... cheese obviously would be good too, but I was attempting to be healthy... come on, I've got a big day ahead of me!
After breakfast, I made a list (actually I read for awhile outside, it was beautiful out!) then I made a list and spent the rest of the morning running errands all around town getting everything that I needed for the trip, which was very exhausting and not to mention, a little unorganized...imagine that!?
When I got home, Dolly was dying for some quality time with her mama, and I was busy putting off packing so it worked out for us both.
She got brushed, a manicure, and her ears cleaned... she was obviously pretty satisfied!
Which unfortunately for me meant that it was time to get packing...
Ok, well not right away... there may've been a nap involved for a bit... Like I said, running around and trying to be organized is exhausting! Luckily, I don't have a picture of this part. All I can say is that there was a puddle of drool (which I realized when I woke up in it, always fun...) combined with an awesome dream I had of me and friends dancing around in my room to Backstreet Boys which could be interpreted as my subconscious trying to motivate me to pack.
P.S. Why is packing sooo appalling!?! You'd think you'd just want to do it, get organized, and get it over with!
Me packing consists of me doing everything I can think of while in between packing so that I don't have to be packing which obviously drags it out into taking hours longer than it should, then me getting frustrated and throwing the entire contents of my closet into a suitcase and then forgetting something stupid like underwear... which makes the anxiety of packing 100 times more of an awful experience than just doing it!
After putting it off long enough, I finally dug in, and I think my essentials are covered for now! - And don't worry, the suitcase on top (my carry-on) isn't packed yet. The bottom one is stuffed full of clothes (including underwear), and since in July, it's winter in South Africa, that doesn't help me to pack light when I'm going to be there for 2 weeks...not gonna lie though, I did bring nearly my whole closet. I have this undying fear of getting somewhere and thinking "I really wish I would've packed that." Luckily, that's not a problem I should run into on this trip!
Snacks, toiletries, meds, hand sanitizers, facial cleansing wipes (for the 17 hour flight), some activities to do with the kids - face painting, tattoos, and stickers - vitamins, ipod (for the 17 hour flight), oh, and my journal and running shoes of course... Did I mention it's a 17 hour flight?
For me, I think I did pretty good for one day of packing. I'm not done yet obviously but the rest will have to wait since I decided that one of my distractions from packing would be to blog about packing and now my night is looking a lot more like this:
Yeah... this can definitely wait to be put off tomorrow.... :)
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