Sunday, September 27, 2009

Sixteen hours to takeoff.

Since my last post, I’ve been significantly more light-hearted.  Where I had been trying to keep myself busy, I’ve finally allowed myself some relaxation and a break from the never-ending to-do list.  And my less than ideal summer job finally ended at the end of August, so my mornings have been spent in the glorious office of David C. Cook, and my afternoons have hosted naps in the hammock, reading Shakespeare, watching season four of Bones with Meagan, Skyping with faraway friends, and more naps in the hammock.
            I’ve also kept a steady stream of mini-adventures at hand, mainly to break up the big countdown into a lot of little ones.  I made a trip to Greeley to see Jessi and to Jewell to say goodbye to everyone, and Sarah came to Colorado over Labor Day, so we had fun exploring my home.
            This weekend was about as American as you can get.  Mom took off work Friday, so we spent the day shopping for last-minute things I needed.  One last trip to Chick-fil-a for lunch.  When I got home, I decided to go to Chipotle with Meagan and her friends to get one last burrito in.  Here’s a fun fact about me: If I could only eat one food item every meal for the rest of my life, it’d be a burrito.  After Chipotle, I revisited the hallowed grounds of Lewis-Palmer High School to watch the home football game—the first one I’ve been to since my senior year.  They’re a fast team and were really fun to watch.  It was definitely an age-check, though.  The freshmen I mentored as a senior are all now seniors themselves.  And my sister referred to my orange Rowdy Ranger shirt as vintage.  It’s from 2006.
            The American glory continued on Saturday when I got to go to my first Air Force football game.  The weather was perfect, the boys were on their game and beat the crap out of San Diego State, and there were uniformed cadets as far as the eye could see.  After the game I spent too much time in Wal-mart getting pictures printed and picking up ingredients for Dad’s birthday cake.  I then made said cake, declared myself a domestic goddess, and watched Mrs. Doubtfire with the family.  The laughs were perfectly timed—the stress of all the packing ahead of me had finally sunk in and I could feel my blood pressure rising.
            Today was a great morning at church, where people only wished me luck as opposed to asking me why I was still hanging around, and I spent the afternoon packing.  It’s done.  Two fifty-pound suitcases packed with everything I’ll need for the next year.  I had to exclude the 2.5 pound jar of peanut butter I bought.  Tonight we’re off for a family dinner at Front Range Barbecue in Old Colorado City to celebrate Dad’s birthday and my jet-setting.
            I can’t believe I leave TOMORROW.  Part of me is relieved; it’s about time I get there.  The other part of me is still in complete disbelief that it’s actually here.  There’s no more time to plan or make arrangements—I have to get there and figure everything out on my own.  I’m wondering if I’ll sleep tonight, what kinds of panicky dreams I’ll have, and how soon the morning will come.