While on the trip, we took a tour of Antelope Canyon, a stunning slot canyon in Arizona. Rob stumbled upon online photos of this place by accident a couple months ago, and I'm so glad he did because visiting this canyon was a highlight for all of us.

And that's despite the fact that the guide was a complete loon. She would tell rambling personal stories of absolutely no relevance and then hurry us all around the corner because "I've been here since 6 this morning and I'm tired and want to go home." She actually didn't rush the tour - in fact, it went longer than it was supposed to - but she set an odd pace of hurrying up just to launch into a tangent just to hurry up again.

She also insisted on telling everyone which photos to take. A slot canyon is a very difficult place to photograph, and I think she was trying to be helpful (although she knew diddly-shit about photography and seemed mostly just to enjoy bossing people around). At stop after stop along the way, she would order us to "Stand here and take that photo." And then we would wait until everyone stood there and took that photo. We couldn't not stand there and take that photo - she INSISTED that everyone with a camera stand there and take that photo.

I will admit that I have added this phrase - Stand here and take that photo - to my personal repertoire. Rob tends to carry the camera (and take photos) more than I do on trips. When I see a shot I think would be nice, sometimes I ask for the camera but more often I'm too lazy and just point in the general direction of the shot and say some variation of, "Hey Rob, get that one." But the problem is that Rob doesn't always understand what I want him to take, and by the time I explain what I'm looking at ("I like the way the light hits that rooftop over there") I could have just taken the damn photo myself. Which is why I'm liking this new phrase: Stand HERE and [pointing] take that photo. So clear! No confusion! Plus it makes us chuckle.

So as the tour guide led us through the narrow, winding canyon, alternately pointing out strange rock formations (an eagle, Bill Clinton's nose) and telling us what she bought her husband for Father's Day, Rob stuck to the back of the group so he could shoot his own photos and avoid having people in them.

This did not go over well with the tour guide. She needed us all to be together. Now, I get this. You can't have people wandering around on their own. But Rob was never out of sight; he was just trailing ten feet behind. "Sir!" she would repeatedly shout from the front of the group. "Sir! Stay with the group. I need you up here!" Rob would amble close enough for her to shut up and then immediately lag behind again, getting shots. Honestly, I think what annoyed the guide more than anything was that Rob wasn't standing here taking that photo. (These photos are the result of his rebellion, which was clearly worth it.)

I bounced between Rob and the rest of my family, hanging back with him for awhile and then catching up to walk with them. The guide soon figured out our relationships and offered to take a family photo. Rob was dragging behind, so she took one of me with my parents and brother and then as Rob caught up she said, "In-Law! Stand over there with the rest of the family."

My brother and I nearly lost it, nudging each other while biting our lips to keep from laughing. Soon we couldn't hide our snickering, though, as the guide continued to call Rob "In-Law" for the rest of the tour. "In-Law! Stay with the group!" "Come a little closer, In-Law." "In-Law! Stand here and take that photo."

And I confess that after the tour ended my brother and I took it upon ourselves to continue referring to my poor dear husband as "In-Law." For the duration of the trip. Because we are assholes. And also because it's friggin' funny, I'm just saying.