A Post Series That Contains Tails And Tales
Note: If you are at a loss as to what I am rambling about in this post, please take a gander at From Suite To Seat-Part One. A light perusing of my verbal scratchings will bring you up to speed regarding this series of events.
My eyes popped open at 6:23 AM. For one disoriented moment I thought I was at home in my bed. The reason for this assumption was the absolute silence that filled the room. As I shook the fuzzy flies out of my eyes, my awareness increased, and I remembered where I was. You see, I live on a farm in the woods. A quiet realm of solitude is the place I inhabit, and the suite in the Coeur d'Alene Resort had this same serene and silent quality about it. That fact in and of itself was rather awe-inspiring, for I was in the middle of the downtown Coeur d'Alene area, and it should have been a touch noisier.
Not that you were going to find me complaining. My nephew and his sheltie dog Ollie were nowhere to be seen or heard, and I just took a moment to stretch out like a proper awakening Kat. Okay, I emitted something akin to a contented purr too, so great was my overall zen in that moment. One thing about my home environment is even though it is solitude city at times, as soon as I move in the morning the place becomes a bit of a zoo. My Crazy Cora Cowboy Corgi pup and our daughter's German Shepherd hound cross Lani explode into Morning Mode as soon as I twitch a toe upon awakening, so I really relished being able to elevate from my super comfy bed without a resulting cacophony.
Window seats draw me like a moth to a flame, and the suite had two window seats. I drifted toward the seat that overlooked Tubbs Hill and McEuen Park. For the next half an hour I just basked in a contemplative silence. In fact, at this point I am reasonably sure that I got more rest in that little window seat reprieve than I have in any moment in the last year and a half. No joke, I think a couple of grey hairs receded!
After a bit of wanderlust and ruminating, I texted my nephew, he replied with a request for what kind of coffee would I desire and after more than a bit of deep existential discussion we wandered down the spa for a bit of pampering.
The CDA Resort Spa is definitely not like the turf that I typically trod. In fact, I was a little worried about my clod hoppers leaving a bit of les animaux residual on their beautifully clean floors. The reception area is adorned with all manner of super spendy spa accoutrement for the most discerning beauty lover.
I had never been to a spa before, so as the greeter welcomed me and led me to the back for my "treatment" I found myself a little apprehensive. Would these fancy people guess that I had no spa attending skills. My spa'etiquette was neophyte to the max, so I did as I always do and just winged it.
A very carefully attired and done up lady gave me a bathrobe and slide on sandals. She told me that I could change in the locker room and then wait in either the ladies lounge or coed sitting area. She showed me into the ladies locker room and led me over to the lockers where I could stow my gear. If only our high school locker rooms could be so nice! There were lotions and potions galore! Not to mention whirlpool tub bedecked "treatment" rooms and drinks of all kinds for the taking on most surfaces. Two older women were seated atop leather ottomans in the locker area, and after my spa guide left I began conversating with them. They were both from California and were fascinated by the fact that I lived in the area and the state of my skin. A few amusing anecdotes later we all began changing, and as I figured we were friends now, I asked them about how much clothing one was to leave on under the robe.
Now, I am by no means a Mennonite or Amish, but we tend to share the same level of modesty in our comportment and conduct, so when one of my new friends told me that it all comes off and one was to be sans garment underneath the squishy robe, I had a complete when in Rome moment and shed my coverings. Plus, I have had children, so even thought I don't like the let all my goodies hang out, a good few medical professionals have seen it all, so I figured some women old enough to be my mom weren't that big of a deal.
The robe was a soft as a newborn calf's hair, and as I walked down the hall to the coed lounge where I was to meet my nephew I am pretty sure I skipped unintentionally. With a glass of cucumber and raspberry infused water in my paw, I plunked down on a low Asian inspired bench and gazed happily out of the big picture window at the boats adorning the lake.
My gaze was diverted by a bunch of cedar rounds. Hanging on the wall, in an aesthetically pleasing way, were rounds of cedar. The inner logger's child me stifled a giggle. If they only knew how many chunks of art my dad had bucked off a stump over the years! So amused was I, that I couldn't suppress a giggle when my nephew walked into the lounge, clad in a terrycloth robe. The reason for my unrefined expression of amusement was his face. His bearded jaw was slathered in a posh shaving cream. Champagne in hand he swept in and plopped next to me. More giggling commenced.
It was then that another person joined us. The asphalt and cement magnate's wife. She was in no way pretentious, but did exude an overall boredom that dampened my spirit a bit. Before you could say "two redneck extroverts" we had that lady guffawing in the most glorious way. Her laugh was akin to the noise a hen would make should she slide down a shag covered stairway. She could not get over the fact that I had a fourteen year old daughter or that my nephew was my nephew. Apparently I should open my own skin care establishment...
Soon I was called for my Swedish Massage. It was one of the most glorious moments of my almost four decades of life. There was a heated table, heated towels and blankets, mists of the lavender kind, and a massage therapist who made my left eye focus again after three weeks of blurry misery. Gratitude, so much gratitude.
After I was done being massaged I dressed and headed out of the spa. The staff informed me that my nephew was waiting for me in the Dockside restaurant for breakfast. We sat and overlooked the marina, sipping mimosas, and eating the most delectable breakfast imaginable. During our noshing, I was notified that we were going to go meet one of my nephew's friends, a student from WSU.
Now, student is probably not the best term to describe my nephew's friend M. She is getting her PhD in inorganic chemistry and is going to be working for the Belgian government this summer. Of course this meant that we had her come to the farm later that day and I fed her homemade pizza. But, I am getting a head of myself.
We met M in a new thrift store and proceeded to get to know each other. It was such a fun time finding leather jackets and shirts of the chic thrift store kind with M and my nephew. I adore the diminutive girl. She must have like me okay too, for as I said, later in the day she showed up at my farm with my nephew and we all sprawled out on my gargantuan couch eating pizza and watching movies.
And that is where I shall leave off, for the next phase of the tale incorporates the tail part of the saga. My life narrative quite literally did a setting 180 from that point onward...
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's definitely not posh but still has it iPhone. Just exactly what it is, the author isn't sure, probably a healthy microbe colony and a need for refurbishment...