Can I Get That To Go?

Vacations don't just happen. Someone has to plan them (my husband) and pack for them (me). And, since I'm not the most decisive person, the 24 to 48 hours prior to a trip keep me pondering what each of my family members might need and what they should wear. I can't actually consult with the four of them on any of this because I'll get such wildly varied answers as Star Wars Legos, my horse, Christmas tights, Pringles, and, from my husband, "Just whatever." Really, honey, we can go to the beach for three days and you'd be fine with sweatshirts, rain boots, and snow skis?

So, I pack. And, in order to pack economically, I try to ask myself what's essential. Kind of like packing a "go bag". The kind it was highly recommended we keep on hand post 9/11. (Those people at FEMA are all about being prepared, ya know.) And anyway, once that train of thought left the station for me, I started wondering what I would pack in a real "go bag". The obvious approach is to say, "What could I not live without?"

1. My glasses. I'm not sure if this unknown and hypothetical emergency is an "on the run" scenario or a "fleeing disaster" one, but, either way, I'm supposed to take my contacts out at night and would love to be able to see where I'm going.

2. My cell phone. How our world made it so many eons without cell phones is a complete mystery to me. And I even lived in those very dark ages. If the emergency is so serious that I need a go bag, I don't know that calling 911 would be a viable option, but I'd still need to text my friends. Like. . .No tennis 2nite. Running from Attila & Huns. Or, to my Texas friends, East Coast destroyed. Can we come 2 ur house 4 dinner?

3. My iPod. I can't run from anything without music. And, don't worry, I already have a "go playlist".

4. A ponytail holder. The only thing more annoying than being forced from my home and running for my life is not having anything to put my hair up with.

5. Chapstick. I seriously question my will to live with chapped lips.

6. Running shoes. Should be self-explanatory.

7. Water. I'm not the kind of girl that could sniff out and identify a safe fresh water source during an emergency. I could sniff out a Sonic and they have many drink choices, but I'm not sure I should count on that.

8. Cash. I'll still use the Visa if I can because it has cash back rewards, but if the Huns are holding my husband hostage and I have to buy his release, I might need the cold hard stuff.

And, if there's room for just one more item (and isn't there always), it would be white-chocolate covered pretzels. Because if my time on Earth is limited, which a go bag would imply it may be, I'm done counting calories.

FEMA suggests a compass (I don't know how to use those things at all), and your passport (mine's expired, but I have considered investing in some fake ones, a la Jason Bourne), and duct tape. What's with the full-court press on duct tape, anyway? Is duct tape the official sponsor of the end times and all natural disasters until then? I'm almost 33 and have never needed duct tape, so I'm not wasting valuable go bag space on it. I'm pretty sure it would just get stuck in my hair.

Okay, back to our vacation. I packed for everyone, and, for the most part, efficiently. I did somehow get talked into eight sand shovels in six different sizes and fourteen different colors for only three kids, but my son wasn't sure what kind of construction jobs awaited him and his sisters at the beach, and it seemed like a valid point.

Next, it was time to load the van. My husband and I both like working that puzzle and love it when you fit something smoothly into an odd shape of available space. We'll even take along items we don't need just because they round out the stacking job we're doing. Like, "Oooh, we could slide the tent bag right in here!" Nevermind that we're staying at a hotel. Or, "Look, my high school yearbook fits perfectly in this gap!" You get the picture.

But, we're on our way as I compose this blog, to be posted later. My husband's driving, I'm writing, and the kids are watching a movie where vegetables are singing about the Wild West. You haven't lived until you've seen an armless gun-slinging tomato. Still, here's hoping that's not the highlight of my vacation. I'll let you know.