Liz Warren | Storyteller

I wonder if I will ever know the meaning of the phrase “traveling light?”  Although I am delightedly lighter in my person, which will make airplane travel easier, I’m taking almost as much stuff with me on the airplane as I have the previous two years.  The exception is that I did not ship myself a huge box of books and other supplies this year.  The shipping costs – especially back from Ireland became prohibitive.  Over the past months I’ve been buying the essential folktale collections and other resources on amazon.co.uk and shipping them to Danielle so that I could use them in June and she could make use of them the rest of the year.

Packing would be easier if Ireland could be relied on to be cold and rainy, or warm and sunny, or overcast and windy, when in fact it is all these things.  No complaints though really, since the average daytime temperature is 67 degrees, whereas in Phoenix it will be 110.  It just means I pack at least one of everything from tank tops to trench coats.

My real problem is that I’m feeling guilty about leaving Mark. He is not going to be joining me this year, so we will be apart for almost six weeks. I feel bad that I’ll be there having fun while he is here in the heat changing cat litter and otherwise taking care of business. I’m going to miss him, but we will Skype everyday complete with a little camera so we can see each other.  As usual, he has me completely set up with all my techno gear, for which I’m grateful. I asked him last night if he was going to be okay and he manfully replied with a small quaver in his voice, “I don’t know”.

Regret, of course is tempered by memory and that brings joy.  I’m very excited about seeing friends, traveling with Doug, and all the storytelling that is planned.  I got an email from Mae McLynn today asking if I would launch the Athlone Library Summer Reading Challenge on Tuesday when I go there to tell.  She said it would help with publicity.  I accepted with delight.  I’m hoping it will involve smashing a bottle of champagne against the shelves in the children’s section.