Longhand

I'm going away for the weekend.  If you've been reading regularly (or you received your own invitation), you know that my brother-in-law is getting married this weekend.  We're all excited, especially Duncan, who is taking his first flight on an airplane.  We endeavored to make this trip as simple as possible since we have not yet experienced air travel with Duncan and do not know what to expect.  We have also collectively flown only once or twice since Sept. 11 and want to endure as little in the way of security delays as possible.  In a stroke of genius, we sent our luggage with Grandma and Grandpa, who are driving to Ohio.  The overpacker (me) packed light (only one pair of shoes!), and we fit everyone's belongings in one suitcase, without even having to sit on it to close it.  We will enter the airport with a diaper bag, a carry on full of entertainment for Duncan, and my purse.  

As I mentioned, I'm going away for three days, and I am NOT TAKING MY LAPTOP.  I am suffering a modest level of anxiety about this; I know I should not be, but I can't help it.  This machine has become an extension of my brain.  What if I want to check my e-mail, or research something on the internet, or upload some photos, or write a blog post?  I am taking a journal, and if I am compelled to write something, I will simply have to write it out longhand (have I not defended this dying art) and transcribe it later.  Do I need a Blackberry or an iTouch or perhaps just a better phone than this little Tracfone that does everything I need of it for little money?  Perhaps. But as we sat in Yankee Stadium watching an entire row of Phillies fans texting extremely important information to their colleagues and compatriots (and I do not doubt, each other), I SWORE I would never go that far.  So in the interest of traveling easily, living in the moment, defending the dying art of handwriting, and not becoming a jackass, I am leaving my computer at home.  My brain will be off the grid for three days.  

I'll send you a postcard.