A quick note to recognize my DH as the Most Romantic Husband in Temecula. (Feel free to nominate yours as a comment to this blog!)
Yesterday afternoon, the phone rang. Frazzled, I answered in what Perry calls my "business mode."
I could almost hear him grinning. "What are you doing at 4:00 today?"
"Getting ready to get the kids." I quipped back.
"Let me get the kids today. Why don't you go on over to South Coast Winery, and have an hour-long massage."
(This is where you hear dead silence from my end of the phone.) Was I dreaming? Did those words just come out of MY husband's mouth? Mr. Penny Pincher? Mr. I Don't Even Want To Discuss Buying Anything Right Now? Mr. Rolls His Eyes Every Time I Mention Things I Want To Do To The House?
The answer, dear readers, is yes. He sent me to South Coast Winery for a full body, rose petal massage, to be finished off with -- get this -- toes curl just thinking about it... Sparkling wine and chocolate dipped strawberries!
So, taking a few minutes to throw dinner in the crockpot (sure I'd return home to crying children and a hungry husband), I wrote a quick note not to expect me for dinner), I set off for Temecula Wine Country and an evening of decadence.
South Coast becons like a Disneyland for adults. It's tall spire reaching to a SoCal blue sky, feathered with bright white clouds. Arbors reach their welcoming arms out, dripping with flowering geraniums. The low, stone wall seperates this from the rest of the wineries. Individual villas house lovers, away on private trysts in this wine-lover's paradise.
The spa, set back from a crystal clear pool, waterfall, and bubbling jaccuzi, greets you in its warmth. Classical music wafts from hidden speakers. The staff speaks in low tones, gentle, inviting. And, once you find yourself wrapped in a delightful, ankle length, chennile robe--you have the option of dipping into a private spa, immersing yourself in a steam bath, or retreating to the lounge to await your appointment. I chose the latter, dragging my volume of Twilight along, for the bliss of an uninterrupted half-hour of reading.
Soon, I found a glass of Syrah in my hand, and joined Bella for some quality evaluation time of Edward and her other new classmates. Then, it was my turn for an hour of nothing but breathing. Inhaling rose peta aromatherapy while my masseuse worked out the kinks of five years of parenting from my shoulders, back, arms, legs, hands, and feet. *sigh*
When all was finished, and I lay like a pile of rosy goo, my masseuse informed me that there was a special treat waiting for me in the lounge. After redressing (that robe like silk on my warmed skin), she greeted me with my decadent snack. Thickly dipped strawberries, surrounded by raw sugar, and a lovely brut sparkling wine.
The sun painted Mt. Palomar's snow covered slope with umbers, fuscia, and amethyst. The observatory gleamed brilliant white. I sighed into the sofa, not even with the slightest desire to see if Bella and Edward had exchanged words. Instead, I spoke softly with a lovely couple from Missouri--sharing tidbits about Temecula, the new home of my heart. When the sweet lady smiled and said, "Wow. You get to live here!"
I tilted my head in wonder. Yes. I do. I get to live HERE. With my fantastic husband -- who gives me romance enough to keep wanting to write about it! two rambunctious daughters, and a circle of closely knit friends. I'm grateful. I'm happy. I love my life and thank the good Lord for His many blessings.
I won't go on about the state of the house when I got home. Who cares! Or the strain on my husband's face as he offered to take the girls to go visit friends for a bit. I smiled, kissed him deeply, and put the big kabosh on that idea. The massage was a lovely getaway, but I happily shuttled my girls upstairs and got them ready for bed. We curled up and watched American Idol as a family.
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!