A Girl...

Road Warriors

Well, I'm well enough to be at work this fine rain-fresh morning. And well or not, I'm headed to Salt Lake tonight with Simon to MEET THE PARENTS. (He actually met them briefly last August, but it hardly counts because they didn't realize the significance of the event and barely glanced at him the whole time, engrossed as they were in The Amazing Race. But we forgive them because they will have pumpkin pie for us when we arrive.)

It's gonna be a long ride, folks. Elevenish hours--most of them spent driving through the Nevada desert in the dead of night--after a day that started at 5:18 for Mr. WorkerBee, who had a 6:30 a.m. meeting at a jobsite 45 minutes away. But he wanted to drive to Utah instead of fly, so a-road-trippin' we'll go, and let's just hope it doesn't snow.

Here's something cute: Even though I found cheap flights for this weekend, Simon insisted on driving because he wanted to have that stuck-in-a-confined-space-for-too-long experience with me. As he said it he rubbed his hands together deviously and raised one eyebrow to the exact angle that says, "People can turn peculiar on the road, and I can't wait to see what kind of creature you become." Now, I consider myself a fairly good road buddy, and it looks like we're all set to have a great time. We've covered all the major food groups--Oreos, pretzels, celery, and Coke--and have plenty of entertainment--iPods (2), cameras (3), camcorder (1), drum (1) and drumsticks (2), harmonicas (8), guitar (1), New Yorker (1), Cosmopolitan (1), laptops (2), and conversation (unmeasurable). We're leaving the laser show contraption, the piano, the kitchen sink, and Stan in California, but I hardly think we'll miss them.

As it turns out, driving is the best option anyhow because part of the plan is to pick up some of my piano music. I only have a half dozen or so books with me here, and I've just about played every last knickerbockered Newsie into an early grave. Plus, Simon's life needs more Beethoven, and I'd like to be the one to supply it.

Another reason it's good we're driving is that when transporting a large red satin theater curtain 733 miles, it's nice to have ample trunk space. Let me explain. Remember that picture of befezzed Simon drinking a martini by the fire in his lounge? Well, that room is adjacent to but not separated from the music room--two spaces, both alike in dignity, but radically different in style. The former is all plush and exotic while the latter...well, the latter has an organ doubling as an action-figure display shelf and drumset in the corner overhung with dangle-down gay pride lights. Seriously, the first thing you see when you walk in the room is a miniature set of Bob and Doug McKenzie, complete with wee backbacon and itty-bitty beers. Clearly, some sort of room divider was in order, and Simon decided that it should be a red velvet curtain. Um...yeah. But maybe there's some truth into "put it out there in the universe and ye shall receive" because guess what he found on Craigslist not two weeks later? A red curtain--not velvet, but satin--and it was free free free. So anyway, we're taking it to Salt Lake so we can use my mom's sewing machine to hem the edges. Right.

So we're driving. To get some music books and to sew a curtain. To meet the parents and eat pie with my baby brother (Happy Birthday, Timmykins!). To kick around in fallen leaves and write out our names with rocks on the salt flats. To introduce my hometown to the guy who'd totally let me pull link sausages out of him. Full steam ahead!