18 days to go...

Yep, I know. It's been a while between drinks, hasn't it Dear Reader? Had a bit on my mind, and a lot on my to do list. But I feel like rambling just now, and I am pretty sure you will sit still long enough to listen to me.
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19 days to go, and counting. I am nervous, and excited, and anxious and overwhelmed and jumping up and down, all at once. It is exhausting being me. And we aren't even there yet.
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I am exercising. Always exercising. Or thinking about exercising. And it's not like I have become one of those sweet but misguided gym junkies who get high on the exercise. I am driven but loathing of the exercise. Mostly of the stairs. I hate stairs. And I know I have to do it to be ready, or an approximation of. I live at see level for goodness sake, and I am going to be climbing stairs, serious STAIRS, at over 4000 metres. Shit. So back to the stairs, and the consequent sweat and beetroot face and jelly legs. And yet somehow my arse is still big enough to have it's own atmosphere. Weird.
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Sewing? Yep, there has been none. Well not of any consequence. Why? See above. STAIRS. My sewing room is tidy and patiently awaits my return. I think I will re-do the sewing obsession thing when I come home, yule will only be 8 weeks away then. And I will have conquered the stairs on the Inca Trail by then, or have died trying.
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Lists. So many lists. Like stairs. Do you see a theme? Lists of things to buy, things to take, things to do before I go, things that need to be done while I'm away, things to ask my long suffering travel agent (she must roll her eyes when she sees yet another e-mail from me).
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Drizzle outside today, the most precipitation we have had in weeks. I am eyeing off my moon calendar to see when I can plant some veg.
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I will miss this little peanut while I'm gone - she'll turn 16 on Oct 13th
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