I’m in the midst of four hovercrafts this morning — one husband, one Scottie and two gigantic poodles.

All four are quiet as they keep close watch over my doings.  The poodles don’t like that suitcase one bit — a packed suitcase is nothing but bad news.  But all four watch silently, as they follow my progress.  The poodles solemnly;  my husband just to ensure that all goes well with my last-minute packing.

My husband has been in and out of the house more times than I can count.  His usual routine is no more than twice before lunch.  But today, it’s four or five times at least.  And invariably, just as I have needed his assistance, I hear him coming through the back door.  Heaven sent I’m sure.

The dogs are close by, within eye’s-reach.  Max is parked right behind me, in his very favorite hidey hole.  Part of me wishes I could bunker in with him, rather than go off on my own explore to Iowa.  It’s hard to leave my sweet home behind, the place that happens to be my favorite spot in the whole entire world.

But, here I am, packed and ready.  Physically, at least.  Mentally, I’ve got loose-ends rattling in my brain relating to that final writing project for my spiritual direction coursework.  Wish I had finished.  But alas, all I have is a good first-draft.  I’ll take it with me and maybe I’ll work on it tonight.

I really don’t want to work on it once classes begin tomorrow morning.  When I show up for something, I show up.  I try hard to be present wherever I am, to be undivided as much as I can.  So my final spiritual direction project will need to simmer on the back burner once classes begin.

As I look forward to the week, I wonder what will come of this great writing adventure.  Will I be able to write without my faithful poodle muse?  Only one way to find out:  Crawl off on that scary edge and fly away.