Two Weeks and Counting.

So, yesterday was 2 weeks until I leave.

I know - very descriptive, very literary, etc. beginning for this blog but I have yet to start really trying to be literary. So there.

I mentioned to my friend Neill today that I was cleaning out my closets, which was leaving me emotionally tumultuous (what a great word). Apparently I have attached ridiculous sentiments to certain articles of clothing that I keep for no other purpose than to drive me crazy by accusingly peering out from my other clothing, unused and stigmatized.

My $100 wedding dress: We all know the 9-month-long marriage story. I kept the dress. It hung, untouched and avoided by all, next to 2 dresses that I love but rarely wore (due to the fact that I would have to acknowledge the wedding dress by pushing it aside). I threw it into my give-away pile today before I could talk myself out of it. When I finally caught my breath and stood up straight, my back cracked in places it hadn't in over a year - as if I was no longer carrying the weight of badly made decisions with me...... hmm, says I.

The Body Armor to my Leather Jacket: I was an avid motorcycle rider and girlfriend to two motorcycle mechanics (both named Mike, strangely enough) in a row. I have been on custom choppers, stock Harleys, crazy drag bikes, etc. and for some odd reason didn't die doing all the stupid things I did. I, however, DID see a very dear friend pass away after living 6 days plugged into machines in a hospital (even sober and with a full helmet on, Darin died 1/4 mile from his home due to someone else's stupidity). After his wake, I refused to get on a bike ever again. I had kept the body armor for some reason, even though it was not in my jacket anymore. 4 years later, I have finally tossed it and moved on. (The plastic prayer card from Darin's wake is still stuck in the frame of my bedroom mirror though. It reminds me that no one is immortal and I should not take anyone, or any thing, for granted)