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I hate flying. No, not like, I hate it but I grin and bear it. It’s more like, I hate it and I cry and once I just did not get on the airplane after being dropped off at the airport. Another time, I was actually on the plane before I ran off of it.

More on all this later. Let’s just say that while packing to go on dates in Alaska last week, it took me hours to get from an empty suitcase to a full one. Every item I folded felt like a steal rod, a reminder of what I was going to have to go through to get north, and the reminder that once up there I’d have to do it again to get home. And the reminder I’d have to repeat this all to get to Hawaii. Even typing this now is making me a little jumpy.



017b2f309e3811e2a0fd22000aa8039a_7 As it had been awhile since I’d packed for dates on the road, I wondered if I’d remember how. Rules are simple, though: no black, nothing with repeating patterns, and don’t forget the make-up. Since I wear a ton of black my options to bring were limited, and since I never wear make-up I set that out first.




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