We are loading the car and ready for the big trip. The big trip that may be in vain, if it rains us out. But that’s the space game (she said, trying to sound like one of the club).
A local TV station called me at work today and came by the house later to talk to me about the trip. Just a note, in case of you watch it: the video of me checking my email is not actual footage of me reading my acceptance email, and the video of me packing some t-shirts is not actually me packing. I rarely pack in the living room. The newspaper called again and set up another phone interview Thursday after we watch the RSS retract. That’s rotating service structure, which I know, but I totally blanked on TV. I was having a Cindy Brady–staring-at-the-light-on-the-quiz-show moment.
I’m sure I’ll forget something in packing, but I’ll remember the good advice someone gave: they sell everything in Florida except two government IDs. (insert purchasing fake ID comment here.) When I could only find my old passport with my maiden name, I joked that I would just have to divorce my husband really quickly so the ID would work to get me into the launch, and remarry later. I’m pretty sure our vows said, “Til Death do us part, unless it interferes with seeing a shuttle launch.” Anyway, I found the correct passport, so Plan B aborted, back to Plan A.
I’ve been to two post offices today trying to find the Alan Shepard /Mercury project stamps. They were all sold out. Which was bad for me but shows you how popular the US space program is. They had plenty of those other stamps.