One of the things I do is write marketing copy for colleges and universities. So when I fly, typically it’s to a remote intellectual outpost and involves propellers and barf bags. (The Nake-id stomach is not so strong.)
Today, however, I’m heading to Oakland where I’ll spend the weekend with my BIL’s family and SIL’s family before heading to work on Monday. Mitch’s siblings are kindly tolerating me for a couple of days, which is lovely, for I’m not the easiest guest. I scream in my sleep, a trait I’ve assured Mitch, is charmingly idiosyncratic. “Honey, it’s cute that I scream. Really it is.” Send good sleeping karma my way, so I don’t wake the relatives.
Obviously I’m grateful that no propellers are implicated in this journey. However, my big concern re: yesterday’s post is getting the skincare on the plane without checking the bag. Last time we flew, the nice TSA man confiscated my baggie and said, “Darlin’, we’re going to have to move you from a mansion into a condo” and handed me a ziplock the size of a postage stamp. Since cleanser, toner, moisturizer, serum, nightcreme, eye creme are must-haves, guess I’ll be skipping the deodorant.
My knitting mission in the Bay Area is to score copies of Keito Dama, the Japanese needlework magazine. Interesting. On the preview page, the models look, well, like corn-fed Midwestern girls. Huh.
Anyway, have a grand weekend. And check out the new Yarnival. I’m over there off-gassing about organic yarn.