T minus 38 hours...

...until I begin flight to Panama.

Welcome to my blog. I am not so creative, but I contemplated writing a children's book titled "Buck the Border Collie," and since that will probably never happen, I have decided to grace my blog with the name. So, that question is answered.

What does one do 38 hours before embarking on a summer in rural Panama? Well, this individual sits in front of my parents' oversized plasma T.V. watching the Flyers play the Bruins in a heckuva game seven. Can we talk about that for a minute? In NHL history, only twice previously has a team come back from a 0-3 series to ultimately win it. My hockey viewing record, though, is not so great this year. I've already lost two teams...I think it has to do with hockey, a predominantly northern (tundra-based) sport hating me for moving to the balmy state of Arkansas. I can only imagine what will happen when I get to Panama...wait, I can hardly watch hockey south of the Mason Dixon here, I won't be able to catch the rest of the playoffs I suppose.

I had another adventure today. I had to fly with a cat. Not only did I have to take my cat on a plane, I had to put her under my seat. In order to get passed TSA with a pet, you have to take it out of the carrier and put the carrier through the scanner. But can you believe it? My cat was too upset with me to leave the carrier. So, I proceded to turn it verticle and dump her onto the table. The TSA agent then removed her collar, at which point she made a bolt for it. Naturally, I proceded to chase after her, ducking under the barriers. Yes, I did, in fact, breach security at the Little Rock Airport. For the love of my cat, though. Completely understandable, in my opinion. In retrospect, had I been at any other airport I probably would have been detained, but I simply gave my apologies and carried Betty through the people-scanner.

So, I now sit in Lexington, KY, watching game 7 Flyers-Bruins in my parents living room with my little brother. No, I am not taking the cat to Panama. Yes, I did see that Boston just scored the first goal. No, I am not happy about it. Yes, that was the first hockey jersey I ever owned (I was approximately seven years old).

Stanley Cup Playoffs. The perfect way to prepare for a summer in Chitre, Panama.