Hi Friends!

I warned y’all last time that I was a little much. Apparently, I neglected to mention that I occasionally lose entire days. Not in any alarming sense. I know where I am. I know who I am. I just apparently had absolutely no idea what day it was.

Here’s what happened. I'm meeting a local friend for lunch this week. Jim and I had it on the calendar, I knew it was coming, and somewhere in the middle of everything else I have going on, I became completely convinced that lunch was tomorrow.

Fine. Except tomorrow I’m going to St. Augustine to have lunch with another friend who is in St. Augustine. We've known each other since 2017. We served together on the board of the Women’s Food Alliance, we’ve laughed our way through more than a few lunches over the years, and she has been one of those people who has opened doors, made introductions and helped me understand St. Augustine in a way you simply cannot learn by reading a visitor guide.

So there I was, happily planning tomorrow’s lunch when Jim pointed out one tiny problem: Tomorrow, Tuesday, is St. Augustine. My local friend is Wednesday.

And I actually said, “Today’s Tuesday. Where did the day go?” Except today was not Tuesday; it was Monday. I had somehow moved the entire week over by one day.

This, my friends, is a Flamingo Moment. Last week I told you that Flamingo Moments are those times when curiosity, chaos, delight or sheer improbability hijacks the plan and takes you somewhere you weren't expecting to go. I probably should have added:

Sometimes the flamingo steals Wednesday.

And maybe that’s why I love these ridiculous little moments so much. I have spent a lot of my life planning. Trips. Moves. Stories. Books. Dinners. Events. What goes in the suitcase. What gets left behind. Where we’re supposed to be and when we're supposed to get there.

Planning is useful. But there is a point where planning turns into trying to account for every possible thing that might happen. And we do exactly the same thing when we pack.

We pack for the trip we're taking. And then we pack for six things that MIGHT that occur while we're there.

What if it gets cold? What if we go somewhere really fancy? What if I need another pair of shoes? What if I suddenly develop an overwhelming desire to do something requiring an outfit I haven't worn at home in twelve years? That is how a perfectly reasonable suitcase turns into multiples pieces of luggage holding items that you may not (probably not) wear at all.

After all these years of traveling, I've learned something: Pack for the trip, not the possibilities.

Start with what you are actually going to do. If you're walking all day, pack for walking. If you've made dinner reservations, pack for dinner. If you're going to the beach, pack for the beach. Choose pieces that work more than once and make everything you put into that suitcase earn the space it occupies. And quit packing for every unlikely emergency.

This comes from my true experience. You see, I was a CHRONIC overpacker. When Jim and I were dating we went to visit his parents. For a weekend...three days. And I packed 3 suitcases. And when I got home? I had not touched 75% of what I had packed.

Unless you're traveling to the backside of nowhere, chances are very good that wherever you're going has a store. If something truly unexpected happens, you can probably buy what you need. Which, come to think of it, may be a pretty good rule for life, too.

Make a good plan. Take what you actually need. Leave yourself a little room. And when the flamingo runs off with Wednesday? ‹‹Pour another cup of coffee, look at the calendar again, and carry on.

Now I need to figure out what day I'm having lunch with whom.

Wish me luck.

Betsi

P.S. Tell me something: What is the one thing you always pack “just in case” and almost never use? Hit reply and tell me. I have a feeling some of us are hauling around the same unnecessary stuff.