I took the purple-handled scissors and snipped off the 'HSV' tag left on the bag from Jeff's last flight. In the world of baggage, his trumps mine; back, many years ago when my parents gave me a set of inexpensive luggage as a gift, I'm not sure they ever envisioned me flying, much less taking these bags with me.But the bags survived four years of college, more road trips than I can count, and moved with me to Alabama. I learned just how frustrating it was to cart unwheeled baggage through Atlanta's Hartsfield airport.

When Jeff's mother gave him a set of wheeled luggage as a gift last year, we rejoiced. While Jeff wasn't logging nearly the miles that our seasoned-traveler friend Brian regularly logged, his trips were often enough that a set of wheeled baggage would make his life significantly easier.

Since he's not going on this trip, I'm stealing his largest bag. (I figured you wouldn't mind too much, dear, as I don't think you're going anywhere in the next two weeks.)

A thorough, neat packing job is my way of sandbagging my pre-flight jitters. Supposedly, my jitters are wedged between my one sweater and the spare yarn, but even muffled between knitted and unknitted yarn, I can hear them calling to me. Pretending I don't hear them is nearly as fruitless as pretending that, right now, my hands aren't shaking.

Just a little.

The truth is that I don't like to fly. The prospect of a takeoff or landing paints my knuckles a little whiter than normal, and makes me mentally review my packing list to make sure, just to make sure, just to make sure one more time, just to make really sure just this one last time for certain that I packed my antacids in my toiletries bag.

Knitting and a portable mp3 player with headphones can make many things better. The rest can be cured by procuring a window seat. Some people hide from their fears. I revel in mine. If I can't get rid of them, I might as well stare back.

* * * * *

Kara called me yesterday afternoon with a droopy, sad tone in her voice, to tell me that we were going to have crappy weather in Phoenix while I was there. I was confused. I had just checked on the weather a few hours previously and thought things were perfect.

I shifted the receiver to my right shoulder and said, "Let me pull up weather.com and take a look."

She started laughing, and I knew I'd been had. "It's gonna be perfect!" Sunny, highs in the upper 70s. The mid-40 lows there are the current equivalent to highs in Huntsville. The weather channel says Huntsville may even have a bit of snow this weekend.

"Snow," I said with a bit of disbelief - and packed my sandals.

* * * * *

Tonight, on the way to our weekly gathering at Stephen and Misty's, I told Jeff that I planned on leaving my keys here at home tomorrow.

"It's not like I'm going to need them while I'm gone."

He shrugged. "I guess you're right."