So I'm calling Mary to see what she has put into her bag. She's at a standstill as I am. But at least she has her passport, complete with extra pages, but needs to find her tickets.
"Tickets?" I say. "Mine are electronic."
"No" she says, "The intra-Africa tickets they mailed us back in March"
"HUH???" I utter, "I didn't get no stinkin' tickets"
"Yea, you did." she says gleefully. "Remember we said how we wished they had just kept them - so we wouldn't lose them??"
At that time all conversation ceased, and I hurried back home to look for my stinkin' tickets. Yes I found them, but NEVER would have looked for them had she not mentioned them. Now I'm wondering what I'm going to forget, rather than worrying about overpacking. That's a clear signal that it is time to go have a glass of wine. Or maybe a couple of margaritas. That should help wash down the malaria medicine. T
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Mary, where are the pole beans again? And what squash is the ever growng Italian we are NOT to pick? Dianne Walters-Butler
nachtehexe@gmail.com
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