Estimate Time of Departure: Roughly 3 days, 12 hours, and 19 minutes

I have successfully procrastinated my packing until now by cleaning out nearly every major cupboard in the house. Pitching unnecessary clutter has been rather rejuvenating and the bathroom cupboard proved to be quite the passport. Who knew one could have so many travel sized bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and body wash from all over the world? In fact, I think we have seen the Sun Valley Lodge go through at least 5 generations of shampoo/conditioner.

 The kitchen was a fun one too, the brandied cherries from 2000 were somewhat exotic for the cabinet along with Hershey's chocolate syrup circa 1998.

So I have been posing this question to myself lately: How am I, a 20 year old girl, supposed to pack 6 months worth of clothing into a carry-on and a backpacking backpack? I am sure it is an easy task, however, you are reading the words of someone who definitely struggles to pack lightly. I guess it will come down to some sort of Darwinian procedure, only the toughest most versatile and practical yet fashionable clothes will make the highly selective cut. 

Also, because I plan to include a picture in every post and have yet to take any of my packing, (since I haven't done any yet), here is a photo of the cards that I won in an Apples to Apples game this semester. Some say that the cards that you win describe your personality, I beg to differ and I hope you agree with my disagreement.

Now that I have finished writing this, my room will most likely become tornado stricken as I start pulling clothes out of drawers.

The Homemade Launch Pad

For twenty years and counting the front porch of 812 has played a most significant role. It has welcomed friends and family as it guides them up the steps to witness big bear hugs, emotional hellos, and tearful goodbyes. It has had a front row seat to rainstorms, young late night summer romance, and attempted parallel parking jobs. It has provided a seat for dogs, cats, and a little blonde girl who have all at one point sat on its steps anxiously waiting mom and dad's return.

 For nearly fifteen of those years the late Wilson Dog pranced down its slick brick steps in rain and shine to retrieve the morning paper, and today the mailman skips the last two as he reaches for the mail slot to deliver the latest National Geographic or Cowboys and Indians, or take a letter on its next thrill.

            It has staged what could probably be award-winning dramas, comedies, and tragedies, and it has overheard countless energetic obscenities that follow the realization that one is indeed locked out of the house. It has cooked in the summer sun, and frozen slippery in the deepest of winter nights. It has been squashed by clunky work boots, caked by muddy garden clogs, poked by sophisticated stiletto heels, and drowned in puddle jumping galoshes. It has been tripped on, run over, and tickled by the lawn mower. Even though the nature around it has grown, altered, and disappeared, it carries on strong with mom and dad as it acts as my personal launch pad and gateway to adventure.

Gearhart Beach

The City of Portland

                              

Walla Walla Wheat Fields

Since birth 812 has roughened up my city slickness and worn some serious country into this girl by seeing me off to the rugged Oregon Coast and the rolling fields of wheat in the Walla Walla valley.  It showed me the wonders of Europe and threw me into the whirlwind of Boston, and now, come February second, this steady launch pad is sending me on my biggest traveling adventure yet: six months of learning in the Paris of South America, Buenos Aires, Argentina.