toothpast clearance

Never, NEVER in my life have I seen someone get through security with an oversized gel or liquids container. Everytime, no matter what the product, it gets chucked. But not with Jefferson. They ran his bag twice and pulled out a 5.5 oz of brand new Tom's toothpaste. Not cheap and not something you'd find overseas. I felt immediately bummed for him. Then what happens? The man reads the ounce total to J out loud and tells him to keep it at 3.2 oz or less next time, then puts the toothpaste BACK in the bag. That was it. I was amazed. Magic abounds.

shoving off

I love that image- like putting your foot on the edge of a dock and giving your boat a good shove, off into the waters. I'm in the San Francisco airport, waiting for my travel partner, and charging every piece of electrical equipment to tie me over till a converter comes along. We shove off at 1:20am, May 31st. It doesn't feel real yet. Discombobulating- so in the moment that the future is just a skeletal narrative of location. And I like it that way. Most travel daydreams are so far from realities lived, you wonder why you ever spent time on them... unless they are escape from the now. I haven't needed that at all this year.

Spent a little over two weeks in Dallas with friends and family, filled to the brim with laughter and love. My parents have a one bedroom apartment in downtown and we cohabitated happily there, even taking in an occassional extra sleeper. Sign of harmony. Details spared, it was satisfying, gratifying and a beautiful treasure I am departing with today!

Now, though, now my feet are on the neutral floor of an airport walkway and my mind is pulling its webs into the patter of transient feet and rolling wheels, to the 30lb pack by my elbow. My stomach is full of questionable sushi and I might take on another early evening cup of coffee. Sleep time will not matter for the next few days as my body figures out where the sun is.

This is it. This is the rambling beginning of shifting paradigms and stretching to make room for new. I have no idea what to expect, except for two hopes:

1) new friends and new hearts
2) old friends and familiar hearts.

so with that I have to say, emphatically- thank you for being here with me. And please, keep me updated on your life too, as we travel through the next couple of months in our lives- we are always on a journey!

PS best ways to stay in touch- comments here and emails here: marg.shug@blogspot.com

Denver International Airport

Thought since I was here, I’d try to ask Lost and Found directly about a bag I left last month. They never seemed to check very thoroughly when I was on the phone. I set my mind to “open” trying to feel the good vibes I felt in Cancun when I recovered an iPod that had been missing for a week. I just knew walking into that airport office that it was in there. They first handed me a pink 8 gig, nicer than my own.

“No, I’m sorry. That one’s not mine.”

“I think it’s the only one back there. I’ll look again.”

I felt so calm and sure, and after 5 minutes of her looking, there it was, wrapped in duct tape, holding the earphones tight to the body. Perfect timing.

This time, the feeling was different- positive but not sure. Walking up to the airport information desk, there were three women gathered around, chatting and giggling. The one up front turned around and yelled, “Ukulele!”

She sauntered towards me and took it from my hands.

“Do you play?”

I thought she seems very excited not to.

“Yes, from my childhood!” eyes lit up, teeth showing.

She checked the tuning, singing “My Dog Has Fleas” then began strumming it confidently, loudly, fingers moving without looking, her hips swaying side to side as she hummed to herself. I didn’t know the song but I loved watching her play. Her eyes opened and she looked at me directly-

“What about you? Do you play?”

“Not very well- I could never quite get the strumming like you do. I’m bringing it home for my mom.”

“Oh! Is she an old lady like me?”

“Ha! Um, well, she wants to learn how to play too.”

“Great!”

Her friends started to request songs, but she said she could only remember “Isn’t she lovely?” She played for a few more seconds and handed it back to me. I couldn’t help but notice some of the dust had been knocked free from under the strings. Her friend chastised her for stealing it from me, said I was lucky to get it back, and asked,

“What was your original question?”

“I don’t remember! You just totally made my morning.”

The bag wasn’t in Lost and Found- if it had ever been, they would have gotten rid of it two weeks ago. It was okay though. I was able to let go of that material hope and hold instead to that spicy moment, some foreshadowing of all the adventure and new people and experiences, not two weeks away, but starting now.