32 hours, but who's counting?

Ok, so I know I said the next post would be about Guinness...but I think I'll save that for when I do my comparison taste test in Ireland. So just hold your horses on that one. 


I'm 32 hours out from leaving on a jet plane, and I'm not even packed. My suitcase is lying open and empty on the library floor, surrounded by piles of clothes because I can't decide what to take. I have been stepping over it for two days now. Maybe if I wait another day the clothes will finally get disgusted with me and jump in of their own accord. 


Well that's fine but please make sure the socks match. 


So my friend in Dublin asked me for a favor. She moved there 3 years ago, and seems she left "a few things" at a friends house here and would I mind bringing them over? 


The few things ended up being two gi-normous jam-packed suitcases.


One suitcase I have no idea what is in it because her friend packed all 49 pounds of it all nice and tidy. The other, however, I know exactly what it contains. Twenty three pairs of shoes.


"So ...I just have to ask...have you been going barefoot for the past 3 years?"
(this is an actual conversation I had with her just today)


"Well love..."
(she says love a lot, I'm thinking it's an Irish thing - I may come back calling everyone love)
"...well love..no but remember I was pregnant and then with a baby so there was really no need for nice shoes"


Ah, well then. I love her so I'll happily bring her post-baby shoes to Dublin.


In the same suitcase on top of the shoes, mashed down so as to fit, is a huge variety of 4th of July party goods she has asked that I bring for a party she's planning. Twenty three pairs of shoes, and red, white and blue boa's, garland and party favors.  I'm thinking when customs takes a look in this bag I may have to answer a few questions.


So while her bags are packed and ready to go, my one carry-on is not and I am not the least bit angst'd about it. 


This trip and the planning of it has been like that. There's no explaining it - but I really don't feel that anxious anticipation that usually accompanies a vacation. As a result, I've let a few things lapse till the last minute......


I'm not packed
I don't have a European outlet adapter for any of my 7 powercords I'm taking with me - that's on my "to do" list.
I haven't reserved a rental car for the part of the journey when I'm on my own- I'll get to it tomorrow.
I haven't made plans for getting to the airport - I'll probably call a cab. 
I haven't picked up the cute gift for the Irish wedding I'm going to - I think I can squeeze it in tomorrow.
I forgot I need new glasses to drive in Ireland so I'm going to get those tomorrow. Hope they have same-day service.
I haven't picked up any foreign currency for the trip - gotta hit Dale's Coin shop tomorrow.
Oh and did I mention I still have to work tomorrow?


And I'm (now 31.5) hours away from leaving.  


And yet....I'm content. I feel good about this trip. I'm so happy, that as I sit here in the silence of the late night, curled up on my sofa with my dog enjoying his doggie dreams at my feet - I'm smiling.  Life is good.  I'm going to Ireland. I'm going to walk the cliffs of Moher, drive the Ring of Kerry and sing songs in a pub. 


I'm going to stand on the dock where my ancestor, John Murphy, stood in 1807 - when he was only 26 years old - and I'm probably going to cry and smile at the same time. And while I'm glad I'm going alone, I know I'll have dozens of moments where I'll wish that some of you were with me.


I may not be packed - and I may have a long list of things to do in the next (now 31) hours, but I'm ready. So glad you'll be with me on the journey. 


See you again on Friday in Dublin. Smiles.