Seriously, besides any of the rest, who doesn't know it is illegal to walk on the shoulder of the highway? For the first, there are those signs, telling everyone. For the second, what is with all the knowing know-it-all's condescending omniscent being such a dope. Too bad omniscence & omnipotence are not the same. You can get in touch if you're so curious, but whatever you invent from that probably fits.
I am fine, thanks. Thanks, in part, to Mari. He called from the train Thursday night.
"Just meet me after I hop off across the river. I want to see you."
Honestly, I was like, "See me? You are on your way home, dude! I'm brushing my teeth!" But I knew he meant See you naked & because the secret to a happy marriage is a low-maintenance spouse, I did as requested and packed a tiny overnight kit.
Isn't this a pretty room? What? I love William Shatner! Priceline forever!
Then we went for a drink in the bar. I had a delish Côtes du Rhône. Mari had to send back his kamikaze because they strained it into some fancy glass. Honestly, people. Drinks for men go avec des glaçons, bien sûr.
The corridor had this bizarre, Barton-Finky, optical-illusion quality to it. Can you see it, in this shitty cameraphone photo? It was weird & I had to tell myself, more than once, It can't be a mirror; I can't see myself.
The funny thing about this hôtel (besides illusions!) was that they would start every interaction in French, so Frenchy, but if I picked it up & kept going, I was met with confusion. The same thing happened in San Juan, but it was not so obvious, because they could limp along a little farther before a surrender. For my part, I was always confused, but this last trip cleared it up pretty well. It's just a hotelier's façade, ok?!
I mean, it could be that I am actually incomprehensible in three languages. You decide!
It did seem ridiculous & unnecessarily lavish, this getaway. Although right as I emerged from the shower at 6:45 Friday morning in a Frette robe & hotel slippers, the room-service waiter knocked with our breakfast aloft & that was nice. The coffee was good, so hot! The company was so hot, too! Breakfast has rarely for 15 years been so quiet.
After Mari & I chewed through our brioche French toast & oatmeal, respectively, in a hilarious switcheroo I gave him a kiss & told him I had to get to work.
I did: I had a meeting & a vendor visit. Not to mention the commuting! Ahahaha! But seriously, traffic can be jammed on the interstate! This is why people walk along the shoulder! (Sssssssssstupid!)
When I got home, the children were still asleep. See? By about 2 in the afternoon, Mari had made his way home to tag-team some parenting & household tasks & then we went back to our love suite.
"We are going out," we told our babysitter-less children after we filled them full of dinner. I mean, honestly, if they are going to act like we never did anything for them, we can begin the neglect already. Lord have mercy.
I sent a refresher of Thursday's text to my neighbor, asking her to please call us home, like the ladybug from the nursery rhyme, if she noticed our house on fire. They have two preschool-aged children & a sharp eye on Fifille for the day she is ready to babysit. We shall have everything we want, in our own times.
At dinner Friday night I ordered a cocktail made with Dewar's, dry vermouth, honey, lemon, and rosewater. The last time I was confronted with a crafty cocktail menu, I chose a vodka drink because vodka has no control over me. This cocktail didn't take hold of me, but man, I remembered why I let Scotch have its way with me any way & for so long. Man. I have no regrets.
You should know that there are people mixing rye with Campari & adding grapefruit juice. You can call me, if you'd like more information so as to report them. Seriously.
The pièce de résistance of the fancy hôtel leave was sleeping in Saturday morning. Staring out of the window for a long time every night was fun for me, too.
"Honey, that office building over there is sending me light-up messages. I haven't seen a building trying to communicate with me since I was a girl!"
Back home, half of my peonies bloomed this year. I am amusing myself, arranging them into everything.
This is the first year of bloom because -- I know you won't recall -- either they were not getting enough sun, or I planted them too deeply. I cut back the rose last year to stop shading them so completely &/or too-deep peony tubers eventually work themselves upward. Qui sait?
B-school is out for the summer ("out"), which means summer course comes on strong in a couple of weeks. Don't worry, our other child probably won't go on a killing rampage because no money=no guns & you can only run over one person on your bicycle. Not even one person at a time -- one person.
Last week we watched 2 Days to Kill. 3 Days to Kill? Whichever. The point is that we chose it because it seemed neither too serious nor too stressful. Mostly, while watching, I was thinking of how Costner was first presented as our congenial matinee idol in Bull Durham, but then he got lost in Dances with Werewolves, Waterworld, The Bodyguarding, or whatever, but holy wow he is a fox now. Anyhow, the movie was fine, and as we thought -- not too serious, not too stressful. Bad guys, dirty bombs, ok!
Let's hang out! I am so on tour this summer! Let's get a hotel room, ahahaha! Seriously, though, I am completely in love with my husband right now; he is hitting all the right notes & I'm doing ok, too. Gros bisous, mes amants!