It's unbelievable that I leave in a week for Wellington. I'm the World's Laziest Packer, which means I leave everything until the last minute, when I throw a bunch of unnecessary items in a suitcase. The last time I travelled to Istanbul, I packed that morning, and ended up with a single pair of pants for the entire trip. (Enjoy this ancient picture, left, of me on my first Grand Prix mount, whom I met in the mountains on the outskirts of Konya, Turkey. Our piaffe left something to be desired.)
And I'm the lightest traveler ever. In fact, when I went to Wellington to scout properties, I went with my check card, a toothbrush, and 3 pairs of underwear. (No, Sulin, I wore clothes as well.) Needless to say, I've spent the past week looking like I'm scrambling, but really just watching episodes of The Big Bang Theory and screwing around on the Gator. I'm certain once I arrive, there will be quite a few "D'oh!" moments (but that's what wallets and ATM cards are for, right?). Like my passport, the only thing I'm concerned about forgetting are my horses, which would make for an interesting winter (but that's what wallets and ATM cards are for, right?).
The horses are going down courtesy of Horse Jitney, because I'm too faint of heart to drive that distance with my FEI horses and a pregnant broodmare. This is interesting, because you'd think as a card-counting, camel-riding, chicken-playing-with-the-Gator adventurer, a 19 hour drive to the Sunshine State with my horses might be a cake walk. However, I'm on a solo mission to bring our hay and alfalfa the 1,000 miles, and that's about all the excitement with a rig that my free-wheeling self can handle. And it's not as if I can exactly throw Nikita into a suitcase last minute.