And so another Monday morning rolls around. What'll it be today for something different? I know! I'll go to Scotland! Why not? Well, apart from the fact that the exchange rate stinks, gas there is roughly double what it is here and everyone thinks the U.S.A. is an incompetent bully, fueled by greed . . . . Still and all, a perfect day for an adventure. So Scotland and Ireland, here we come. Read on for an extended Minnesota goodbye.
Answers to the most frequently-asked questions: Yes, yes a little, no, yes, I think so, a few weeks, not really.
And the questions are:
' Is it true your great-grandmother was born in Scotland?
' Do you have Irish ancestry?
' Have you ever been across the pond before?
' Are you excited?
' Is David excited?
' How long will you be gone?
' Considering that your lot-line neighbors have a pair of pit bulls who more or less run loose (true truth), and that the neighborhood is patrolled many times a day due to a nearby household with, ummm, multiple troubles, are you worried about going away?
The past several days have been given to obsessive packing, unpacking, repacking, virtual repacking, triaging, adding back, repeating as needed. I forgot how complicated travel can be. And the flying thing is rather daunting. I've only flown domestically since 9/11. I have been reminding myself that I must maintain my legendary serene demeanor through security and customs.
I am really going to miss the Clothesline and Susan and Perhansa and Poet and LeftyMN and all the rest of you whilst gone. I may try to sneak a peak every now and again, though. Please don't talk about me while I'm gone, gone, gone, gone . . . .