48 hours to go!

We’re not quite there, but it feels like we are. (See illustration.) Forty-eight hours to go! Sometime Monday morning, we'll be driven by friends and family down to Norfolk, where we will unpack our bags and officially begin our voyage. But right now it's still Saturday--grey and overcast, perfect for the big task of packing.

I’ve spent the past week untangling the threads of my life. My nose has become clogged with dust. For the first time in my professional career, my office is clean enough for an average person to use. All the stuff that cluttered the surfaces is stacked away in boxes—some tiny, some enormous. My desk now offers vast, clear spaces, ready for someone (not me) to accomplish Great Things. I’ve emptied out my closet, picking what I’m going to wear, from sultry Vietnam to chilly Halifax. Those clothes will be crammed into suitcases. The other things I’ve decided to take onboard are piled onto my reading chair in a blue storage bin, awaiting a more suitable container for storage to the ship.

It’s a miscellaneous bunch of stuff. There are a number of DVDs and a few of my CDs (most have been digitized and stored on my computer and I-pod); a stack of blank CDs; voltage converters and power strips; playing cards; little plugs for my cell phone; my yoga equipment; Ghanaian gankouis, axatse, and drum sticks; razor blades; my repertory of piano music; an empty pill bottle; and a large pair of powered speakers, which apparently will be necessary to make music heard on the noisy boat (excuse me, ship). I was told to take along slippers—and I’ve found one, which doesn’t quite seem enough. Pencil sharpeners. Portable hard drives. And of course, my computer (and hard drive, and headphones, and mouse….). The eternal question: what have I forgotten?

All I know is it’s supposed to be cold. I was warned to bring along slippers and sweaters. And that the food will gradually grow worse over the three and a half months. To ward off gnawing hunger, we’ve packed some peanut butter, crackers, trail mix, and a few other things. And of course, tea. I will give up my caffeine to no one. All those things are in cardboard boxes. We were going to ship them, but then thought, why not just take 'em? One thousand disposable diapers, on the other hand, will come directly from the manufacturer to dockside.

For those little ones, a vast store of toys and books, mostly culled from garage sales and E-bay, to be distributed carefully over the 110 days. We’re hoping these goodies can be stored in the inner room, so that the twins will never see the source. We’ve shown them the ISE video of the voyage to give them a hint of life on the boat (I mean ship). Yet I’m still waiting to see their faces when they see how big it is, and when they realize that it’s all there for them to explore.

Hope it's a nice day!