I Pack My Grandmother's Trunk

Did you ever play this memory game as a kid?  It’s one of those ones where you repeat what the last person said, so if you’re at the end of the line, you end up trying to remember a long list of nonsensical items.  “I packed my Grandmother’s trunk, and in it I put her red stockings, a black petticoat, peanuts, an ironing board, a birdcage, the cat, a giraffe.  It’s sort of how I feel whenever I pack for a trip.

I'm flying off to visit my daughter, and right now I am considering everything that has to fit into my suitcase.  Most importantly, there’s the craft kits I picked up for the children and the lavender mini-little pony for Suzannah that I got with my Happy Meal in Biggs.  Since she’s getting the pony, at the used book store I bought a cardboard book by Sandra Boynton for Alan, What’s Wrong, Little Pookie?  Truthfully, he’s a little old for cardboard books, but I love Sandra Boynton so much, that any excuse is a good excuse. 

Okay, so that’s the kids’ stuff.  Then I will absolutely die if I don’t take my computer.  My Touch sits nicely in my purse so checking the weather or headlines or crossword puzzle words is made easy.  Gotta remember meds and makeup and hair pins.  There’s my toothbrush and toothpaste.

I’ll wear the lighter jacket, but I’d better bring a scarf because it’s the time of year of changeable weather.  Oh, dear, I can’t forget my kit of chargers or bringing all the electronics will be moot.   Speaking of electronics, I need to take the GPS, too, because when Stephanie and Scott are at the conference,  I’ll  take Alan to daycare, and I want to actually get there. 

I used the office computer and printer to check in on my flight (a lovely benefit they offer here which means we don’t have to buy a printer), but that won’t help if I don’t put the boarding passes in my purse.  I’d better do that right now, and because you can starve during air travel these days, I’d best toss in a couple of oat ‘n honey bars as well. 

If I can keep from expanding the suitcase, I’ll save the $25 baggage fee, but I think there’s room for my red flats with the ragged bows in case we go out someplace nice.  Can’t forget my Kindle or life won’t be worth living. 

Got it all.

Oops, I wonder if there’s room for clothes.

Betting Against the Rain

On Sunday, we are going to France. I know what you're thinking, but, look, someone has to do it. Steve and I are willing to take the bullet for the rest of you. I've finished the laundry from the shore and, in my mind's eye, I'm thinking about what to pack, what combinations will be most versatile, what clothes will wash out in the sink. I've decided on my long, felted sweater instead of a raincoat. It looks nice with a wider range of outfits, and I'll bring my broad-brimmed rain hat. I'll check the weather Saturday , and if the forecast is especially wet, I'll switch out, but mostly I'm betting against the rain.
It's a hardship tour, too. We spend a couple of days in Nice, bus over to Arles and cruise up the Rhone for a week, right through the wine districts. The cruise line brings chefs from the districts on board and features the local wines. Yeah, yeah, there are historic tours, too, but who are we kidding? When we're all as stuffed and happy as we can be, they bus us over to Paris for 24 hours.
Paris. The tours offered in Paris cover what we saw when we were there four years ago. That was on our "free" trip to Paris, compliments of Steve's emergency medical evacuation out of Moscow to have his gall bladder removed. On the direction that, when sufficiently recovered, it was good for him to get fresh air and exercise, we took a short excursion each day, metro-ing to sites in central Paris. Unfortunately, at that time, he couldn't walk enough to see Versailles. That is my goal this time.
As the best of good luck would have it, our very favorite patisserie (thanks to a recommendation from Steve's nurse – he's still a little in love with her) has a branch right on the grounds of Versailles. Lauderee, oh, my sweet Lauderee, of the pale green and pink china, napkins and boxes. How much dare I spend on macaroons? How many can I bring home without crushing the box? Without their going stale? What flavors will I enjoy this time? Raspberry, pistachio, lemon? (Remarkably, the chocolate aren't as good as some of the other flavors.) Dare we try Jasmine Mango, added in 2008? Should we deviate altogether and have a napoleon with our coffee?
I know for many people, Paris means fashion, Paris means art, Paris means love. For us, Paris means macaroons from Lauderee.  Without rain, please.