A dream, sweetheart

Two posts in one day. I'm trying to make up for the gap.

Steve and I spent last weekend at the Brentwood Bay Lodge and Spa, courtesy of my brother, Bruce, and sister-in-law, Tarra. It was their gift to me for my 40th birthday. When I told my sister, Brenda, about the gift, she didn’t miss a beat. “Oooh! We’re going to have such a good time.” Steve, in turn, begged that I not try to turn the two nights for two into four nights for one.

Now, I’m sure there are people out there for whom a weekend sans enfant at a small luxury hotel is not a big deal. For us, it oh-so-most-definitely was an oversized deal. I could gush endlessly about how fabulous it all was, from the glass of sparkling wine offered at reception, to the meal I could have cried over it was so luscious, to going back to bed (after a room service breakfast) to read (uninterrupted) under the down duvet wrapped in 700-thread-count cotton. And I haven’t even mentioned the 55-minute deep tissue massage. Oh. I guess I just did.

It was such fun to offer an urbane nod as the hotel clerk explained all the room included (free calls anywhere in North America sounded so generous until I considered that I had not gone on a romantic weekend with my darling only to spend it chatting to my friends) then as soon as he’d left, giggle through a dance of joy before taking a running jump onto the king-size bed.

There were so many details that made it all so incredibly wonderful. Not the least of which for Steve, was sleeping in past 6:45 a.m. (when our little ‘morning person’ usually comes into our bedroom to cheerfully announce, “It’s morning! The sun is up!”)

If you have $500 to spare (or have anything of equal value you could sell), book a weekend at the lodge. Really. It’s worth every single penny, and that’s coming from me, with Scottish blood flowing frugally through my veins.

Seriously. Stop reading. Click the link. Oh, don't forget that bubble bath isn't very good for jacuzzi jets.