yikes

I think it finally hit me that I'm leaving for Australia on Sunday. And that I'll be gone for 3 weeks. And that I'll be taking approximately 10 plane rides during the course of the trip.

Ummm... is it too late to back out of this??

Okay. I can handle the whole traveling-to-another-country thing. Been there, done that. Well, when I say "been there," I'm not referring specifically to Australia. I've been to Europe, which isn't quite as far, but it's the same concept. And the length of the trip doesn't bother me too much. When I went to Europe I was there for 2 1/2 weeks. So it's pretty much the same thing.

So maybe it's the plane rides that freak me out. I'm okay once I'm actually on the plane. It's the anticipation of the ride that gets me spazzy. And the take-off. And the turbulance. And the ear-popping (note to self: buy gum). And the fact that it's a very large, heavy piece of machinery that somehow defies the laws of gravity and stays suspended in the air for 8 hours at a time. And the fact that I've seen "Lost" one too many times, and unless Matthew Fox is on the plane with me, I'm not gonna enjoy an emergency landing on a deserted island.

Okay. I'm going to look at this as an adventure. Not many people get to do this kinda thing. It will look amazing on a resume. I will take a shit-load of amazing pictures, which will then be immortalized in a scrapbook that I'm going to force everyone to look at. I'll be fine.

Now I just need to pack. And figure out how many books to bring with me.