the hotel

There appeared a new mat in the elevator every morning, "Have a Pleasant Saturday"or "Have a Pleasant Sunday", scripted in red with flourish, a mat for every day of the week. This simple bit of mien for proper detail was looked forward to with delight and expectation every time I stepped into the elevator. I just happen to take notice and appreciate such things. But then in this hotel, the hospitality offered is as natural as breathing.

We dined Saturday evening in the hotel's dining room where the waiter steps to your side offering a soup spoon atop a linen napkin that rests upon a china plate. It is rare indeed today to see this kind of presentation, but in a hotel filled with history, one that holds to a certain manner of tradition, it can be expected and relished.

The large, old window in our bathroom allowed views of the sunrise.

It is good to go away, yet it is even better to come home.  Experience has taught me that the absence of normalcy is what makes going away a special treat. But to quote a famous bard, "People usually are the happiest at home." I could not agree more.

 Home is the place where soup spoons are set by your soup bowl on any given day,  but very properly of course.