I actually applied for my passport; I hear that you need one to be admitted to Europe, who knew.
In my typical bald self, I called my three guarantors and said ( I could have asked, to be polite, but whatever) "You are my references, deal with it, and in case any one asks, don't forget my eyes are blue."
Last night, I asked Husbandly One if we could go to Halifax today, so that I could go to Mountain Equipment Co-op and get fitted for a back pack. His response? "Meh, maybe next weekend."
He does support me in this, by the way. He doesn't understand it, but he wants me to do whatever makes me happy; in that regard, he is the most fabulous husband a girl could ever ask for. I just wish he took me a little more seriously.
Maybe that's the problem, maybe he thinks that I will plan and plan for this, but that at the last minute I will say, "Wah, it'll be too hard so I'm not going. Instead I'll stay here and do the laundry and make your dinner. Wah!"
I am out of shape. I am ill equipped. I have no business embarking on this trip.
But I'll show him. More importantly, I'll show ME.