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#baggage
illustratus · 20 hours
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Childhood Friends by Carl Spitzweg
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dduane · 10 months
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The really important part of packing
The stuff that needs to go to Finland with me this week is piled up on the bed right now. (Now comes the process of removing the stuff that doesn't really need to go. In some ways this is a little like editing a novel.)
But now comes a vitally important part of traveling with these bags (and something that—due to various weird health issues that some of you have heard more than enough about—hasn't happened in three years):
Refreshing the luggage stickers.
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A company called Laughing Elephant, which started out as Green Tiger Press, back in the day—purveyors of wonderful prints and stationery featuring illustrations from children's books—makes these stickers. They're repros of actual airline, rail and steamship luggage stickers from years past.
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Adorning your luggage with these serves three important purposes (and maybe more):
They help you positively ID your baggage at reclaim.
They serve to distract and entertain people (particularly small children) who're otherwise bored out of their minds while waiting in line / queued up behind you at airports or train stations or wherever. We've gotten into fabulous conversations with lots of people about these over time, and made some great Travel Acquaintances.
And possibly most useful of all:
They routinely provoke enough interest among the baggage handlers who're dealing with your checked baggage that they refrain from flinging it around the joint like the gorilla in the old American Tourister commercial. (When seated in the right spot in the plane, both @petermorwood and I have seen this happening both as the luggage is getting on and as it's getting off. A pause to examine, to discuss, and then the bag gets put on the cart with visibly more care.)
This can only be a good thing.
So: time to freshen this one up a little. Before...
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...after.
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...Ideally the entire visible surface will eventually be covered. But "house rules" insist that the application of new labels can only happen at actual travel time. So we'll see how the next few years go...
ETA: These are where The Great Artificer got the idea for the Discworld baggage labels. We ran into Bernard when making our way across the internal plaza at the hotel hosting the Discworld convention in Tempe AZ in ... 2009, I think it was? -- and Bernard looked at our bags and said "We could do those!" ...As a result, we have a double set of the Discworld baggage labels, but as they are no longer being produced and are incredibly rare, we don't add them to our mundane baggage: they're too precious.
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vshusband · 7 months
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YIPPIEEEEE!!!11!!1!1!!!!!11!!!!11
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YAYYYY!!!11!!!!111!!!11!!1111!!!11
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outwardprojections · 2 years
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Blythe Baird, If My Body Could Speak; "Concerns from a hot-boxed jeep" / Elaine Castillo, America Is Not The Heart / Fleabag / Ijeoma Umebinyuo, 'Confessions', Questions for Ada / Anne Carson, The Glass Essay / Sleeping At Last, Six
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russellstyles · 1 year
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...go with it...
Viscount Station, Mississauga, Ontario,Canada
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sanddollarpoems · 8 months
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As much as I try
I still fall back into patterns
36 years of conditioning
Is hard to shake off
For every year I live
I'm one year father away
From the baggage
That I've accumulated
One more year of freedom
One more chapter
That I can write my way
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goshyesvintageads · 11 months
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Kipling USA, 1995
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momentsbeforemass · 4 months
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Conversation with God?
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“If prayer is a conversation with God, why is so much of it so formal?”
If you’re going to have a conversation that matters, with someone you care about, it helps to be in the right headspace. Before you even start.
Let’s say you’re (understandably) upset because you’ve had a day where nothing has gone right. Everything you tried to do didn’t work. Everything you said was misunderstood.
If you start talking with a friend or a loved one when you are in that frame of mind, here’s what’s going on – inside you.
The effects of that day are still messing with you. Events are echoing into your emotions. Maybe you’re replaying things that were said.
Will all of that going on, you’re not going to be fully present in that conversation. Because your emotions are still stuck in everything that happened, you’re going to be sending out signals you don’t even know that you know you’re sending.
Your patience and empathy? They’ve already been wrung out from the day you had. Meaning that the odds of you misunderstanding the other person and taking things the wrong way are very good.
When you realize that this is where you are, you need to make a break. You need to intentionally separate yourself from all of that, to free yourself from the baggage of the day. Before you talk with anyone. Much less someone you care about.
“If prayer is a conversation with God, why is so much of it so formal?”
This is a big part of it. The classic prayers are the break, to free us from the baggage of the day. Before we talk with God.
To set us up to have a real conversation with God. So that you and I can hear God. Instead of hearing the echoes of everything else that’s going on in our lives.
Just like we would with anyone we care about.
(Again, this isn’t all there is to prayer. When we pray, there are a lot of different things going on – usually all at the same time. I’ll be sharing more thoughts about prayer in the days to come.)
Today’s Readings
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neatbikestuffreblog · 2 months
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All dressed up & no where to go (yet)
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elegantzombielite · 2 months
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"One cannot hire a hand; the whole man always comes with it."
Peter Drucker, management consultant, professor, and writer (19th November 1909-2005)
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fieriframes · 9 months
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[YOU KNOW, EVERYBODY, AT SOME POINT IN TIME IN THEIR LIFE, WANTS TO BE IN THE RESTAURANT AND BAR BUSINESS. WHEN YOU RAISE THE DEAD, THEY BRING THEIR BAGGAGE OF THE PERFECT PLACE THEY WANT TO HAVE, AND SOME ACTUALLY MAKE IT A REALITY, LIKE THE JOINT WE'RE ABOUT TO VISIT HERE]
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kvetch19 · 3 months
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wisdomfish · 13 days
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People are breezing through those wide, comfortable, inviting gates with all their baggage, their self-needs, their self-esteem, and their desire for fulfillment and self-satisfaction. And the most horrible thing about it is they think they’re going to heaven. And somebody thinks he’s done them a big favor by coming up with a consumer friendly gospel about which everybody feels good. ~ John MacArthur
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Don’t let your luggage define your travels, each life unravels differently.
- Shane Koyczan
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suffering-is-cute · 4 months
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you won't come back. i know, that's fine. inhale, exhale, breathe in the secondhand smoke that hasn't yet been drowned out by the rain.
if it's not one thing then it's another. find any excuse you have to use. i can watch you say it. you are valid to hate standing by me. i can still breathe in what's choking me. i am fine.
weary smile. heavy heart, but i click open the camera and pose with my hand around your shoulders anyway. my hand. why not my arm? my whole heart isn't in this. yes, i said pose.
heavy heart, but i flick open the umbrella's metal joints anyway with a practiced, casual ease. one moment folded, lips of the steel pressed into thin lines that squash the full height of the umbrella. the next, unfurled like an penned owl's wings as it takes off into misty mountains.
i wish I could follow it, but i'm resigned to the ground.
my sneakers are soaked through with damp and my socks chilled with muddy water. i wring the wet locks back from my shivering face. odd i hadn't noticed until the water got into my furiously blinking eyes, but i'm enraged, silently enraged in the water.
i know it's futile, i don't deserve such a thing, but i have so much wrath at this sudden downpour. today, why must there be water?
irrational. unseemly. my first reaction is shame, not shaking. i know to be embarrassed at weakness. all these times i have idolised the strong. i wanted to hide under my umbrella but mary poppins doesn't hide, so why should I? neither shall i.
you're not coming back to me. you never will. not the same you. i speak heavy things in an attempt to crush my feet with the weighted slam of cinder blocks. i run myself over mercilessly with a land rover. i buy a gun and shoot it, unloading pellets into my chest. i tell myself not to move but broken and bruised there my feet go again.
it's not like i don't know how this will end up. the bones of my feet visible. the shoulders of my overcoat drenched. my hair flinging water into my face with every slight movement.
it's not like i don't know how this will happen. how everything will play out. i know, darling, i know. but a hit-and-run couldn't stop me, the ashes and cinders will infuriate but cannot induce defeat in me, the gun will shoot only where bullets have already hit.
I: have always been walking around with carefully concealed bullet holes in my chest.
my heart keeps beating, traitorous thing. let me steal a kiss from you, at least, a ring maybe, a line of verse. some keepsake, any keepsake -
magpie that i am i have a vision of a nest full of stories to tell.
storage. if i could be packed away in bubble wrap and shipped overseas on a conveyor belt, would anyone come to pick me up? claim me because i look interesting? i'd be disposed of as a possible danger, a tick-tock time bomb.
bibbity, bobbity, boo! cinderella explodes at midnight when the clock strikes twelve.
you won't come back. in this story, the prince loses the glass slipper when he gets drunk and he never thinks of cinders again except when he's hiccuping. she heaves a sigh and gets back to work scrubbing the stairs. never expected anything else. at least she's full tonight.
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