And well, it's another early weekend for me! (I know, you're asking, does this girl work? The answer is: not very much right now. It's absolutely lovely.)

Now, I just know that you're asking yourself, where is this lovely little jetsetter running off to this time? Goshdarnit, I wish that I could reply with Paris or Tuscany or St. Barths and the like, but the sad truth is this: This time, I am flying to Madison, Wisconsin.

That's right. Wisconsin. Solidly midwestern. In the middle of the country, the part of the US I like to call the "flyover states." Or better yet, "the black hole."

Why is she going there, you ask? Is she off her meds? Has her antibiotics-plus-alcohol combination not been so hot after all? Has she been replaced with a crazy person?

No, perhaps and she already is crazy. Crankypants is from there, despite his very southern California look, and this is one of the few times that he's home every year, and like hell I'm flying out there in the dead of winter. I hear it gets really cold there.

But I'm trying to be optimistic, even though I get unaccountably nervous anytime I travel to a land-locked state. It's like being stuck smack in the centre of an auditorium - if disaster strikes, you're stuck in the middle and can't get out. Anyway, here is what I'm looking forward to:

Having a three-martini lunch when I get in. As sad as this may seem, this has been one of my goals for the last several years, but you have no idea how hard it is to find people who actually want to start drinking at noon. During anatomy lunch breaks last year, my lab partner and I would attempt 3-martini lunches, but after 2 we realised that if we had a 3rd we would be in no shape to wield a scalpel. Hell, after 2 we were already really obnoxious when we returned to lab. Anyway, I leave at the awfully early hour of 9AM here, and will get in 1PM Central Time. Crankypants knows me well, and will immediately feed me, because I am wretchedly cranky (maybe I can be crankyskirt. Crankydress?) after travelling and also if I haven't eaten every two hours. He has made the mistake of not feeding me in both instances, and it's not pretty. He has since wisened up and told me that when I got in we could go straight to a nice extravagant lunch. Sadly, one of the quicker ways to this girl's heart is by promises of food and drink. (A Maltese, jewelry and clothes are still the quickest.)

Visiting the real store behind this marvelous shopping website. I really want this skirt and these pants, but I like trying on my clothes before I buy them. And now I can!

Watching lawnmower races. I never knew such a thing existed until I watched The Prince and Me. You have no idea how excited I am to see this. Crankypants says that this doesn't really happen in Madison, but I'm willing to travel out to farm country to witness this.

I can't think of anything else right now. But here is I know what's definitely in store:

Having to meet his pug, Kobe. And I'm going to have to be nice about it too, because apparently the whole family dotes on this little stupid tail-chasing chocolate-gorging barrel of a dog. I'm sorry, but pugs are so not cute. And they shed, even though it looks like they don't have hair. Ergh. And crankypants says that I'm just going to love taking it on walks. However, I have just been informed that there is a maltese that lives several houses down! Maybe these walks won't be too bad. Maybe I can trade in the pug for the maltese. Just for the weekend.

Being dragged from vintage store to vintage store. Because apparently the best ones are in Madison. Who knew that it was such a stylin' place? I am markedly not excited about this, because I Hate Vintage Stores (unless they're arranged nicely, of course.)

Going to a dinner party held at the house of his mother's college roommate. Gah! What am I going to wear?! The stress. At least there will be good wine, I'm told.

All I can say is thankfully, there are no sporting events going on at that time, because I know I'd be dragged to them. (One of the requests he made this summer of the law firm he's working for is that we get Lakers tickets. "We." I was definitely not consulted on this.) And his parents will take us out for nice meals. And of course, I do want to see the house he grew up in. My only real concern is: where do I get to sleep?