Datebook: Monday, January 15th ~ 2007

This is usually our recovery day. In previous years, this is the day after returning from Nationals when we could wash all of our travel clothes and wear sweat pants all day.

This year, we are still in launch mode.

Now we are at four days and counting until we leave.

These are the “getting primed” days where we get the nails polished, hair cuts, and eyebrows waxed. The suitcases come back out of storage, and we buy those travel tubes of Crest Whitening toothpaste.

People say this is the time for making lists. And herein lays the problem-- because, well, I am not a list maker. Everyone around me is however.

My husband creates elaborate shopping lists when he goes to the store: “Tide fresh scent, 128 ounce no-drip spout; Cheerios, 20 ounce, no race car drivers on package. Milk, back of the rack for the freshest date.”

My daughter’s list for last week looked a bit Paris Hiltonish: “Get hair cut at new salon-Voted Best Blow-Out in City, eyebrow wax at The Red Door, pick up Fiji water, decide on S. Madden shoes—do I wear enough brown or should I just go with the Cheetah print because it really goes with black?”

My son’s list is very neat and in perfect 13 font handwritten script. “Complete Physics homework. Plan swim workout for next week (500 f/s, 20 50s, 2 mile rotation) including dry land circuits. Brush teeth for five minutes using counter revolutions”. I know, it is a cry for intervention where he is forced to watch MTV or Road Rules until he stops doing Calculus equations in his head for the fun of it.

I can’t do this.

My shopping list says, ‘Get stuff we need at the store” and I rarely refer to it while negotiating the aisles at Safeway. I like not having the encumbrance of a pen and pencil and making all those cross-outs as I place salad dressing and pasta in my cart.

My daughter’s room mate is the ultimate list maker. She actually makes a list of all the lists she has to make the next day. It must look like she has “list” wallpaper this week with all those lavender and pink note papers stuck to the wall and refrigerator. She is very precise with her packing requirements: 12 bobby pins, 4 hair ties, 48 pair of shoes, twelve purses.

She even makes a list of what she will eat the next day.

This would never work for me. Lists are really like little diaries to yourself, or contracts. There is a degree of honor and truth that must be established. If I made a list of what I would eat the next day I would have to honest and realistic. I would have to start out with good intentions.

Then I would have to acknowledge that I planned to eat a package of Tandy Takes and several cookies before dinner. Maybe even put on line eight that I was going to eat the last piece of cold pizza sitting on the refrigerator shelf.

I cannot make a list for my packing either. It would seem exotic to actually write that I need to pack 9 pair of socks and underwear sets, four pair of pants, a pair of jeans, two skirts, assorted matching tops and three pair of pajamas. It sounds adventurous—most vacations are only seven days, the truly elaborate take more time, weeks, so the traveler can view the Orient or negotiate the Nile to view the pyramids.

We are going to Spokane, a lovely city to be sure, but one I won’t see much of if the past holds true. We will spend the days sitting in ice rinks watching practices and competitions. Or waiting to watch practices or competitions. And on busses, or waiting for the busses to take us to watch the practices or competitions.

If we wanted to be trendy or stylish we would actually pack nine coats and scarves for each day. But this would be too bulky.

So, I’m just going to wing it. I’m flying listless. It’s true that I’ll probably forget to pack those headphones I have to buy each trip and have to spend another five dollars to watch the movie on the plane, or I’ll forget a safety pin or TicTacs.

(Whoa, did some of you just add these to your lists?)

That becomes my adventure--seeking out the CVS or Walgreens that is nearest to the hotel. Usually they sell postcards there also and you can send these back home to friends and family.

You know, to people who think you are on vacation.

Mombo