At the end of the month--this month, the month honored to be that of my birth--el husbandiero and I are heading to Utah.
The purpose of our trip is to grant my husband the opportunity to see sister Caitlyn pregnant. Why? Well, my spouse so loves my sisters that he can't bear to have one of them go through a happy life-changing event without his having been able to see 'em the throes of it all. This baby is her first. So to Utah we go.
Cat is the inciting purpose for the trip, but, of course, seeing as we rarely make it out 'Tah way these days, many other things are on the schedule as well. Things such as
• Dinner with Rabid and Spouse(s) (hers and mine). She suggested sushi, but I'm a bit of a rube and jammed a stick in the spokes of that concept.
• Cat's bebe shower, the invitation for which is simple, incredible, and 100% unique. Yes, as is ever my job regarding family events like these, I designed it.
• Hackworth session for me and my mister, the timing of which commemorates my initial meeting with Justin. It was for his 30 strangers project--a project that continues on this very month--a year ago that I first had the privilege of playing subject to the click of his camera. At the time I enjoyed the great honor of being one of Bishop Higgins' Strangers, I promised The Self that I'd craft an opportunity to again situate in front of his lens--this time with My Beloved. I'm following through.
• Ice cream date with my now-5-years-old nephew Jack. The little feller had himself a birthday, and he's at the age where I begin to relate a bit better. He uses the word "inappropriate" for heaven's sake. I see us having some deep and productive conversations.
• Take brother-in-law Nick to a Bikram class. When his wife, my seester MallRoy, came for a visit to Sparks, I took her and Lola to a hot yoga class. I think they'd tell you that it damn near killed them (much like the class I went to Saturday-last; you'd be amazed just how much the food you eat days beforehand matters). Nick heard Mal's tale of her survival and apparently wants in on the action. I'll be happy to play enabler on this one.
• Lunch with Rabid and Whitney (I hope, I hope)
• Dinner with whole family to sate my spouse's need for the chaos of the Peterson clan. Once he and I decided on dates for the trip, my husband promptly called every single cell-phone-owning member of my family to tell them that we're coming and that he wants a family dinner. All of them. Dad, Mom, Ethan, Whitney, Tadd, Caitlyn, Jon, Haley, Nick, Mallory, and Lauren. If Jack, Van, Addison, and babies in gestation had cellular devices, he would have called them as well. Family, lest you doubt, please let me reassure you of his adoration: my husband loves my family. He adores you. A whole lot. All of you in your inimitability.
• Dinner with Nick and Mal. Mal says that my husband and hers must bond for they have much in common. I certainly hope that our dinner out doesn't wind up being Mallory and me staring at each other cross-eyed while our husbands prattle on in their mission-acquired Argentine Spanish.
• et cetera
My whole trip seems to be built around food.
It's been quite some time since Utah last had the privilege of my size 5.5 flats and flips on its soil and even longer for my husband. But Irony and her big brother Murphy are playfully punishing me for that. It's been six months since my last visit but I will be making up for it with three visits in in the span of five weeks or so.
The first trip is the one that I mentioned above. A trip designed to get our fill of family whatnot.
Then, the following week--about five days later, to be exact--I'll be headin' back for the birth of my sister's daughter. She's invited me to be the one to catch the baby and cut the cord with my teeth.
And then, at the very beginning of June, Husband and I will be back for the U2 concert in SLC, an intimate event wherein we'll jump and sway to the dulcet tones of Paul David Hewson and Mr. The Edge's wicked awesome riffage with 45,000 other screaming fans.
I am dreading the drives. I've considered flight, but my husband is anti-plane in a big way (read: in such way that he requires much pharmaceutical intervention just to get him to board the flying thingers).
I've been spoiled in my six month sabbatical from frequent 17-hour round-trippers, but now The Ghost of Road Trips Past haunts me. Hours and hours of Northern Nevada's high desert. Hours and hours of shades of brown. Hours and hours of timing the inevitable results of copious liquid intake to coincide with clean places to pee.
Oh, well. Experience says that Gabriel Allon, Mitch Rapp, Walter Isaacson, Dr. Kay Scarpetta, and the many characters of Ludlum's page-turners will propel me onward with rapt anticipation for what comes next, even if I've listened to their tales two or three times before.