I of course was thinking this journal entry would be entitled,       "And We're Off!'

But, alas, we are still in the throws of a wholly tortuous packing procedure.

The title of 'Egg Suitcase" epitomizes the hilarity that has ensued in our home over this past week before departure.

I have always known that I suck at packing. Michael Ezgur on the other hand, is a completer packing madman.

I do it in my head and just kind of think about what I should take, roaming around my house, grabbing things and getting sidetracked by anything that happens to be in my line of vision. I take things that are not necessary and I take too much because I am plainly missing the "disciplined packer" gene. I tend to obsess over interesting bits of knowledge or activities that might be relevant or fun to our trip along with any gifts I need to bring for others on the trip. I am pretty good at remembering what I forgot as we are pulling out of the driveway, or as we are 10 minutes into the drive. It's like my brain finally finds that higher gear and goes thru a high speed search and scan right in the nick of time. I don't always have the right clothes or gear, but this does not make me feel bad because as I said, I suck at packing and I am ok with that.

Michael Ezgur is both sadist and masochist of packing. His process inflicts pain upon me and is painful to him, but a pain he enjoys on some level. That said, his process is a wonder to behold.

He flies through the house like a whirling dirvish leaving no drawer, closet, bag, box, or corner unturned or emptied into giant piles wherever floor space exists. He compares what he finds to his exhaustive mental database of every piece of gear he has ever owned in his 42 years (this man throws away nothing). He finds joy in packing the exact right gear, clothing, tool or sunglass shammy for the exact right occasion. He is driven to this because of the additional joy he gets, for instance, if he we happen to find ourselves on a rowboat lets say, and he can pull out the bag that zips up airtight and has a blow valve for air so that if the bag happens to fall in the water it will float. Ah, but if he found himself on that same rowboat and his mental gear database threw up a pop-up window with the vision of said bag, and he had not remembered to bring it on the trip, some of the joy of the rowboat experience would be taken from him.

This brings us to the egg suitcase. First of all, what the heck is an egg suitcase? It's a plastic molded lunch box sized sort of a thing (usually yellow) that is perfectly formed to hold a dozen eggs, cradling them ever so gently yet firmly enough to not allow them to break when you need to pack eggs for camping. This egg suitcase is about the only thing that is still left unaccounted for in Mike's database. He started asking me about it at the beginning of the week, made me call our babysitter to see if she had seen it, left me a few to do lists that contained 'find egg suitcase' and emailed me about it on several occasions. Keep in mind this is an item that costs $3.99, but that is so not the point. His amazing brain will not let him get a moment's peace until it is found.

I am just so happy that I am the recipient of his perfectionistic packing, because of course, those whom he loves are always taken into account and provided for in his amazing process. He reminds me of things I never even knew I owned. He takes things he knows will come in handy for me or the kids, then presents them as a surprise at just the right moment on a trip with a maniacal smile and giggle of glee.