Leaping

Tomorrow afternoon I am getting onto a plane that will take off over San Francisco Bay, hang a left, and then soar over the Pacific Ocean for hours and hours before landing in another world entirely.

The last time I traveled for such a long period of time, things were different: I was freshly graduated from college and without an apartment and a job, and my best girlfriend and I backpacked through eight European countries in six weeks. I missed my boyfriend, burritos, and American-style showers, but other than that, I wasn't leaving much behind. Life was just beginning.

But now, leaving home for a month entails so much more than simply putting the futon and the books in storage and fostering out the houseplants to friends. I have a house, a cat, and a freelance writing and editing career that I've worked hard to build over the last three years. I have friends with babies who grow so fast they'll be nearly children when I return. I have bills. I have my little routines that carry me through the week and through my neighborhood. There's more to think about, there's more to arrange, and there's a whole lot more to miss when I'm gone.

But the joy of this trip has been taking dancing lessons with the anxiety, and it's become quite the leader. The boyfriend I missed so desperately in Prague is now my husband. And this six-week trip--to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam--is our honeymoon. We delayed this little post-wedding treat to ourselves for some 18 months, because we knew we wanted to go somewhere completely new to us, we wanted our eyes to be peeled wide open, we wanted to soak in adventure and learning and other ways of life. And it was never, in the year and a half since our wedding, a good time. There were holidays or weddings or family visits, and there was work. But in those same 18 months, an idea slapped us around time and time again and became pretty clear: Life Happens. The good and the bad come and go according to their own schedule, whether you've planned for it or not, whether it's a "good time" or not, whether you think you can handle it or not.

So, we decided, let's make it happen.

And here we go.

I can't wait to tell you all all about it . . .

The Friendly Skies

As I prepare to do the packing rough draft for my month-long trip to Southeast Asia, some questions have come up about what I can carry on in my big ol' backpack and what I'll have to check through to my final destination. I was recently reminded that scissors are verboten on planes, even those very small scissors good only for cutting very small things such as yarn, and which one might innocently forget are tucked inside one's knitting supply pouch. (I should have known I'd be a target for a search, what with the suspicious aforementioned knitting supply pouch, which is emblazoned with images of flowers and Sanrio's Chococat. Oh, well--just doing my part in the war on terror.)

Anyway, I plan to knit on the very long flights I'll be taking, from SFO to Tokyo and Tokyo to Bangkok, and I began to brainstorm other yarn-cuttable implements that might clear the scrutiny of the X-ray operators. Hence my visit to the Web site of America's fine Transportation Security Administration, which has a handy chart (warning: PDF file) outlining *exactly* what you can and cannot bring onto a plane.

I was delighted to learn that I may carry on nail clippers, which will do just fine for breakin' yarn. I can even have them if they are the type that have a foldout nail file. My saber, however, I'll have to check. Ditto my cricket bat, cattle prod, power drill, hand grenades, and nunchaku. I may carry on up to two cigarette lighters or books of matches, even though I am not allowed to smoke, or to make fire in any way, on the plane. And the TSA felt compelled to inform me that Transfomer robot toys are allowed--finally confirming that they are indeed not only "robots in disguise" but also "robots in the skies," as I always thought the cartoon theme song said. Interestingly, firearms and ammunitions may be permitted as carry-on items, depending on the airline, so next time you fly be sure to ask your gate agent about that semiautomatic you hate leaving home without. And have a pleasant flight!