And So It Begins. . .

I am sitting here in a hotel in Salt Lake City at 11:00 pm. Alone.


Let me start at the beginning.

After cancelling our trip to St. George due to expected bad weather, we had resigned ourselves to spending our anniversary in Midway. I was okay with the plan, Layne-- not so much.

In his quest to get out of Dodge, his plans kept getting bigger and more grandiose. At one point, he suggested taking all of the kids to Orlando for a few days, but then realized that our Romantic Getaway would spiral down into a Get-Away-From-Me.

I let him dream-- figuring it was like the time he wanted to buy a BMW Z-3. Especially when he came up with the idea of flying to Rome for the weekend.

I'm not talking Rome, Idaho. I'm talking Rome Italy.

I thought that the kids made a natural barrier to such craziness. However, my angel sister Colette and her husband offered to stay and watch them for us. And, just like that, he booked the trip.

I've had 24 hours to pack, make arrangements, and pretty much dump all of my responsibilities onto whomever had the misfortune to cross my path. (Sorry, y'all.)

My parents graciously offered to keep the kids for tonight (they are also angels), so we booked a cheap hotel by the airport to save ourselves some time and snow travel in the morning, as we have to be at the airport by 5:00 am.

Everything was perfect, until I opened up my bag and realized I left the second most important thing (next to clean underwear) home-- the precious bottle of Ambien.

I don't sleep in hotels on my own-- and without sleep, I get migraines.

So, even though he was already sweet enough to book MY dream trip (instead of his) and to use most of his skymiles so that we can fly first class, my husband ventured back out in the snow to go home for my meds.

Yes, this defeats the stay-in-a-hotel-to-get-an-extra-hour-of-sleep plan. Yes, this might be a rocky start to our adventure. And yes, I am married to the most patient, wonderful guy in the world.

Onto Rome.... I can't believe it!