Packed my bags last night. Pre-flight, must have been somewhere about 9 am

Even though we've still got a day before departure, last night we had a little farewell meal with Marisol, Buster (the fake name of Marisol's real little boy), the other MB and the one and only Poppie -- or Gramps as Buster insisted on calling him for some reason. The only location requirement being somewhere with a playground.

So the Ritz-Carlton was out.

We ended up at McDonald's.

My Dad had to settle for a McRib rather than prime rib. Just as well, he's the only person I know whose world gets a little bit brighter when he sees "McRib is back" on the marquee. He's not a simple man but he do enjoy the simple pleasures. (A favorite old joke of mine and Chris whenever we'd see roadkill: McRib is back.)

Interestingly, the trip was barely discussed save for handing out our itinerary and Buster's disbelief that I haven't left yet. He was much more interested in telling us about joining the cub scouts. A slightly tense moment as my Dad had to break the news to Buster that the scout motto is "Do a good turn daily" and not "I can do what I want" as Buster had thought. But SpongeBob came back on and he zoned back out. Buster that is. Dear old Dad's more of a Fairly Odd Parents man. Anyway, a good time was had by all.

At this point there's really nothing much left to do. Other than put about 200 more albums on the ipod. And cram as much french as I can into 24 hours. And get everything organized. Oh, and pack. Somewhat important, that.

Truthfully, I'm in a little better shape than that.

According to my itunes directory, I currently have 35 days(!!) worth of music already loaded. This trip is 8 days total. I'll pause here to give all interested a chance to do that math; by my count that's 27 extry days and about 9500 more songs that I could reasonably listen to. I'm expecting a helluva layover. Obviously.

So I probably could move ipod stuff to the back of the queue for the time being. But, but, but, says I. You never know. Riding the rails in France I may suddenly have the desire to explore that fourth Deerhoof album I bought 3 years ago but never opened.* And having a vast knowledge of arcane bands and music forms will be extremely useful in getting directions to the Eiffel Tower. Music is the universal language, etc. I think Seals & Crofts taught us that or at least they should have.

As for French, I do intend to have a cram session. However, at this point if I don't know it I probably won't. Plus, I can still 'study' on the plane. All kidding aside, I am a bit nervous about the language stuff; I really would like to have at least rudimentary communication with my hosts. I'm probably in a little better shape than I think, but I fully believe MB when she says it's a whole different ballgame when you're thrown into it.

I figured last night while this part of the world was sleeping was a decent enough time to start getting my clothes/essentials together. I resisted the urge to call the esteemed probate judge and take her up on her offer to help as needed. Though I must admit the thought of calling and waking her at 1 am to come pack for me so I could go to bed was all too tempting. I suspect she would have hung up on me after suggesting I search for a job opening in the Paris Probate Court.

So that's really about where everything stands right now.

As for a posting schedule over the next few days, I don't really know. It will probably be a catch as catch can sort of thing. Rest assured that when I'm not basking in the history of my ancestors or eating an ice cream cone that you, dear reader, will be somewhere in my thoughts. Not at the top, but probably not at the bottom either. Probably. Assuming no technical difficulties, there should be regular updates replete with photos. Therefore my advice would be to sit at the computer of your choice and hit refresh for the next 192 hours. Au revoir.


*No disrespect intended to the otherwise fine band Deerhoof. I actually like them quite a bit but get so many albums so fast that things get lost in the shuffle. A problem to which starving children worldwide can relate no doubt. This keeps me awake at night. That and global thermonuclear war.