There is a phenomena in myth and literature involving a phoenix that rises from the ashes. It is the theme of my life. The most recent case of ashes stemmed from the aftermath of the water throwing Chinese man but, lo and behold, I awoke the day before yesterday as my phoenix self. Three days ago there was no indication that this would be so, it felt that the despair was there to stay. But nope.
The most uplifting experience had to be the massage and bath ritual at the Ivana Trump Spa. The name is a bit of a turn off, but a name is just a name and Triple C. was encouraging of such an indulgence. Off I went at the appointed hour of 2:30 (14:30 if you are in the UK) to the second floor of the Trump International Hotel. It was pure, unadulterated heaven. The surroundings calm, gracious, uncluttered and the scene of pure luxury. The best spa I have ever visited in my whole entire life. My room was lovely, huge with an enormous bath where the Bath Ritual would end the session. My masseuse (whose name I will not reveal so I can keep her to myself) was gracious and attentive in the early stages and unbelievable as the session unfolded. The massage addressed the massive tension that my body has been holding since January 7, 2017. For the first time my neck was tension free, my shoulders freed from aches, my feet putty in her hand. My arthritic knees were soothed. Then following the hour massage the next treat was the ritual bath. Bubbles, jacuzzi, a wonderful fragrance. I love playing in the bath tub, unfortunately my spacious room high in the hotel does not have a bath tub. Pout. So I definitely thoroughly enjoyed the soothing waters. But the treat was not over. The noise of the jacuzzi was turned off and then the masseuse turned into chanteuse beginning with an enchanting version of “ I Could Have Danced All Night”. But the next ballad broke my heart and caused tears to flow even now as a write. She began to sing: “Smile Though Your Heart is Aching.” That song kills me because I see Alexis, the little girl doing just that…well, Alexis, the big girl does the same thing. I told Triple C. of the song choice and he shook his head saying: “How could she have known?”
Those of you new to my blog do not realize that I always tell the truth. It may seem like this is fiction but it ain’t (honey) it is fact. Always! An occasional exaggeration, or two, or three, but always the truth.
Triple C. suggested yesterday that the room I occupy in Trump International Hotel could be taken “off market” and named the McBride Boudoir.
Me: I don’t like boudoir, it reminds me of a brothel.
Triple C.: McBride Suite?
Me: But it is not a suite, it is a room – definitely a roomy room but still a room.
So there was a quandary. I did some research and sent Triple C. this email.
Dear Triple C.
I cleverly looked up the meaning and origins of the word boudoir as a way of arriving at an appropriate name for the McBride room. It said that boudoir was, and I quote,” late 18th century: French, literally ‘sulking place.”
I am not sure that McBride Sulking Place has the élan that the Trump is seeking but it is damn funny and actually quite accurate. Until tomorrow. Alexis
This morning Triple C. fired off the following email back.
Good Ms McBride, I think you should always only take advice from you personal Thesaurus ………… The meaning of Boudoir: A boudoir (/ˈbuːdwɑːr/; French: [bu.dwaʁ]) is a woman’s private sitting room or salon in a furnished accommodation usually between the dining room and the bedroom, but can also refer to a woman’s private bedroom.
I am sitting in the lobby upon receipt of this email and howl in laughter. I rush over to Triple C’s station. Nearby was someone who will be added to the cast of characters. She has the necessary prerequisite to the team which is, of course, a sense of humor. I will refer to her as E.H.B. (Ever Helpful and then the initial of her first name). The three of us laugh like fools but then she, being very wise, (and somehow knowing all about room configuration) points out that it is the minibar that is between the dining room and bedroom.
Me: That is very good. How do you know that?
E.H.B. It is because I am bright and cute.
More about the “bright and cute” in a subsequent posting. But the lobby is filling up with the poor people who have to leave the Trump International Hotel.
Triple C. It is very crowded in the lobby with all of the people checking out. Could I suggest that you go and have some breakfast at Mott 32?
Me: Do you think I am made of money? It cost $30.00 for the buffet breakfast. It is wonderful but $30.00 is thirty dollars. (Actually not, as I get my retirement in US dollars, it is more like $21.00)
E.H.B.: You do not have to get the buffet you could just get a bagel and juice and they would not charge you $30.00. It will not be crowded there.
Me: Very good idea. Later!
So I climbed the stairs to the Upper Lobby (as the elevator was crowded with the departures). Mott was so peaceful. calming and wonderful . The staff so attentive.
Me: This is great! It is maybe better than breakfast in bed!
Staff: Thank you. Ms. McBride
I decided to order the omelette and choose the filling. I chose spinach (and cheese) despite my known aversion to vegetables. I spoke of this to my charming waitress and told her that I had even had eggplant the night before. “At least you are trying, Ms. McBride, at least you are trying!”
The music here in the morning in very charming. I do not know the title of the song but it goes like this: “How can you mend the broken heart? What makes the world go round? Help me mend my broken heart and let me live again. How can you stop the rain from falling? How can you stop the sun from shining? Help me mend my broken heart and let me live again. The sun is shining today and this is Vancouver. Huh?
The picture is of the bed in the McBride Sulking Place/MiniBar.