Why does packing always seem so much easier in my head? What begins as a rosy image of a few t-shirts and a couple books swimming around in my bag, materializes with over stuffing and gambling with weight restrictions.

My Olympic cheering uniform. This is not an official sweater, but rather one my mom made for my dad in the 70’s. The gloves however are official merch.

This was my ambitious start. Only Atlas Shrugged made the final pack. I figured I needed something to keep me busy should I somehow get stranded on an island.

This is how much Rand I’ve read. I’d say there’s a 50% chance it will remain the same when Olympics are over.

Various WSET books. No matter what anyone tells you, self study sucks. Especially when it’s about Cognac stills and Rhum Agricole. I had to make the tough decision to leave David Bird behind. The books situation was getting ridiculous.

My camera which just celebrated its 50th birthday. Still lookin’ good. I plan to capture plenty of action on the streets.

Salt Tasting Room uniform.

Necessities of today’s life.

Juice to drink somewhere along the way. Quintarelli ‘00 Valpolicella and Palari ‘05 Rosso del Soprano. Please don’t break.

My bottles wrapped up in Wineskins - padded and sealed bags that aren’t supposed to stain your clothes should the contents be broken by your airline. I will totally drink out of the bag like a giant goblet if the unmentionable happens.

A couple tracks from my playlist:

Caribou - Odessa

Yeasayer - O.N.E.

If you’re in the city, drop by Salt sometime over the next two weeks to have a glass of wine and say hello.

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