The morning of the departure

'Profound' is not a word I would use to describe my mind right now. I am thinking of underwear, which won't show and which would show under white pants. I'm thinking of how to 'look nice' many days in a row, over THERE, without my whole mess of stuff that is here. Why would that matter? I can't remember, but it always has mattered when we go there. So I have just clicked into that nagging 'have to look nice' mode, which is not what I do here too often, despite all my accoutrements and especially now that I'm not working much.

What does that mean? I don't know, maybe nothing. Is that a theme of this trip? My theme? I remember one time years ago when we took our cars to be repaired at a local Texaco station - several times a week because they were old clunkers (yes, they would qualify for Obama's plan, I guess) and we couldn't afford to take them to a dealership. We got to know the whole family that ran the place including an awesome young dad, Robbie, who was always covered with grease, dressed in Texaco blues, had hugely curly hair, smoked long cigarettes, and was hyper as hell in a Southern drawl. That's how I saw him in my mind and in the grease pit. One day, though, I happened to be in the 'office' and saw his brand new family photo proofs from Olan Mills (What happened to Olan Mills?). But wait, it wasn't Robbie in those pictures: it was somebody scrubbed down, in a suit and tie, hair slicked back, wife and kids in organdy and shimmer. What did that mean? I don't know, maybe nothing. But it at least means that they were in the 'have to look nice' mode when they went to Olan Mills - and they did look nice, but not exactly. I remember it jolted me back then to see the outlandish contrast and, even now - 25 years later, it makes me flash into my teenage angst mode when I earnestly wallowed in all the variations of the 'who am I?' question.

Now the connection between the existential angst mode and the 'have to look nice' mode might be a stretch. But this morning, after sleeping 5 hours, and before coffee, it seems just right.

I am going to Spain where I will try to look nice and figure out who I am. HA!