As many of you know, I leave EARLY Friday morning for my first visit to Haiti, and to Jillian. It will not only be a heartwarming reunion between a newlywed couple after being 1,437 miles apart for over 3 weeks (it’s not that long, I know), but we will also be celebrating our first anniversary (or what we thought was our anniversary). I’m super excited, not only to see Jillian but to see Haiti. I have heard so much about it from so many people, and I think I am ready to finally experience it. But to be honest, the only thing I’ve really been focusing on is the fact that I’m going to see my wife.
Well that focus became a tsunami of stress when I decided to start packing at 8pm the night before…a pretty horrible idea on my part. After getting in a small fight with Jillian about whether or not I should change into a suit on the way to my meeting at the Embassy or before I board the plane (these decisions are important!), I decided to pack my bag. The problem was, there was this enormous pile of things that Jillian asked that I bring her.
Please compare the following pictures:
Now I know you are going to say, “Frank, you are being ridiculous, she is LIVING down there, you’re only there for four days. (And by the way, nice shoes!)” But it’s still pretty crazy. To her credit, she intended to bring some of this stuff when she went down, but because of Nazi-era baggage rules, she was only able to bring one bag. This left a bunch of stuff that she still wanted, so it is now my job to get these things to her.
In addition to the clothes already owned by Jillian, she also went on a little shopping spree with our credit card and bought new clothes and a pair of sandals that also need to accompany me. This, along with a laundry list of other supplies that I picked up for her, practically filled my bag:
I’m a pretty good packer if I don’t say so myself.
Now I’m making Jillian out to be this demanding, needy wife, and I don’t intend to do that. She is wonderful and I am more than happy to bring this stuff down. It’s just funny to go to fill my bag with my stuff, and see it filled to the brim with hers. I guess that’s what marriage is all about.
But in the end everything fit and I am on my way. Don’t worry, there will be pictures galore (I hope), and I will try to update while I’m down there. But if I don’t, don’t blame me, I’ve got a hot date to go on.