After I got home from work and Jack got home from school, I drove to the train station in Provo, hopped on Frontrunner, our commuter rail, and headed to Salt Lake City to meet my dad, who had driven up in his little rented Fiat earlier in the day. Taking a train to the city is far more exciting than taking the interstate. I don't think I'm alone in feeling that way.
After I got off the train, I walked a few blocks to where my dad was parked and we drove to 15th and 15th, one of my favorite corners of the city, to have dinner at Fresco. I ordered agnolotti. Which was delicious. Also exotic enough that I had to google it on my phone to figure out what it was.
After dinner, we went to a reading at The King's English, a beloved bookshop. Melissa Dalton-Bradford, author of a memoir called Global Mom, spoke about her family's joyful and challenging experiences living abroad and how everything changed when their oldest son died in a tragic accident at 18. I was already looking forward to reading her book. Now that I've heard part of her story first hand, it is a top priority.
And another chance to step out of the routine of daily life and go on a little adventure.
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