On Sunday Prairie Sherry is turning her buggy around and heading east. This "grl" is going to New York City.
A week-long trip to cosmopolitan locale requires a bit more than throwing a couple of petticoats and a pair of button boots into a satchel. This requires serious packing. Packing is something I do, and I do well. I think it is in my pioneer blood. Given a covered wagon, I would have been able to pack those quilts, an iron skillet, a barrel of flour, the plow, two chickens, and even the potbellied stove with room to spare for the six kids and the family dog.
Superior packing requires lists--lots of lists. I have compiled my extensive written litanies of clothing, beauty aids, shoes, books, writing materials, supportive cords and chargers for my electronics, camera gear, meds (Who wants to search for a pharmacy for a Tums at 3 AM?), snacks... I won't even go into the lists I am leaving for those who are staying home.
The guest bedroom is now Packing Central. Items are organized in neat piles on the bed. Too bad if I want to wear that pink dress for my business lunch with Eydie this afternoon. It is in a packing pile and therefore cannot be disturbed. I am down to a a pair of yoga pants that shrunk in the wash and a Leinenkugles t-shirt (...and if you don't know about Leinenkugels, I know you don't live in God's Country.) to get me through until travel time.
If you think that this Prairie Grl will hit the check-in line with a six piece set of Louis Vuitton, think again. I pack light. I may not make my usual "carry-on only" goal this time around, but I won't have more than one small piece of checked luggage. It may be fat as a tick and ready to burst, but there will only be one. I have also been known to pack some clothing that I am willing to leave behind so that I will have room for new purchases. This backfired on one trip to China a number of years ago. I had left a ratty pair underwear in the wastebasket in our hotel room on the last leg of our trip only to have a maid rush into the lobby with the reject waving in her hand like a flag. She presented it to me with a flourish in front of a group of Chinese businessmen. They seemed quite awed at a rather large-ish, grey-ish pair of granny panties.
My 19 year-old, Jo, is going with me on this trip. For her, packing is a last minute affair. An hour before departure time she will be wandering around the house looking for her tan shorts--the same tan shorts that she put in the Good Will pile a month ago. We'll be buying a tooth brush at the airport because hers will be on the bathroom counter at home. I will lend her my hair brush and a t-shirt to sleep in and "tsk-tsk" at her lack of planning.
But whatever the content of that one piece of luggage of mine, rest assured that I will be be sitting at that luggage carousel for hours waiting for it to appear. Whether my suitcase is put on first or last, it always manages to wander to the very back of the line. I am not a pessimist by nature, but this has always been my reality. When it finally pops out and begins spin around, I will throw myself upon it in joy and officially begin my vacation.
|All that luggage, and my bag is back|
there chatting with the crew.
Yikes, it is Beauty Tip Friday. One item that is traveling with me is my L'Oreal Sublime Sun Face Lotion SPF 50+, 1.7 Fluid Ounce. It goes on like a foundation primer. As the bottle says, it is "liquid silk." The bottle is small enough to go in my carry-on. A girl can't always wear her sunbonnet.