Saturday, January 3, 2009


I both enjoy and hate packing for a trip.

Since I rarely see anyone during the day, I don't pay much attention to what I am wearing.

Okay, okay, those of you who know me, I don't pay any attention when I AM going to see a lot of people either. Just be kind and go along with the thought for a moment, okay?

So it's novel for me to color-coordinate outfits, plan on wearing more than one pair of shoes, and remember to download non-workout songs on my iPod - otherwise I am going to irritate everyone seated near me by unconsciously doing a little boogie as I listen.

But I want to pack the things that are important to me, not clothes.

I wish I could fill suitcases with the cold blast of wind coming off the snow-brushed mountains (snow-capped is the actual expression, but not appropriate here in southern Arizona).

I want to put in my horses' heads hanging over the gate in the dark every night as they fight over who is going to get the first carrot from me.

I need to hear my dog's sigh as he lays down for the last time at night. And feel my cat stuff his head under my armpit late at night when I'm watching "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" - I'm not entirely certain why he does that, I assume for the warmth.

And I'd like to take all my random familiar books scattered over my room, all my "The Office" tapes, every pair of socks I own (probably 72 pairs), and my filthy hiking boots just for the aroma of the horses which is ground into the leather.

But I guess I'll have to be happy with what can fit into a suitcase.

And maybe just one horse.