Lederhosen May Be Mandatory. I Can Only Hope.

*** continued from previous post ***


Leeza was waiting for us in the foyer, and with a smile reserved for idiots that have no idea how close they've just came to death, ushered us into the dining room.

I had paid little attention to the dining room on our previous visit to the lodge owning to the fact that I was in the first stages of shock. Or maybe the 4th stage. Which one is death? 3? Then it was definitely stage 4. Now I had a chance to look around, and what I saw was lovely.

The room could accommodate probably 50 to 75 people. There were four large tables with 4 chairs on each side, (you doing the math here?). Floor to ceiling windows on two sides of the dining room opened onto a wrap-around deck just visible in the light spilling outside. I could spot the entrance to the kitchen on the back wall, (near where we had walked in), and on the opposite side I could see a doorway that led into what looked like a small sitting room, complete with a massive river rock fireplace. I had noticed this room on our arrival but not the fireplace which was gorgeous and I made a mental note to spend some time by that fire with a good book.

In addition to the tables and chairs there were a few other pieces of furniture in the dining room. A hutch here, a sideboard there. A statue, remarkably life-like, of an elderly gentleman looking as if he had just stepped off the Alps. He may or may not have been wearing lederhosen.

The tables and chairs were all of natural wood, but varnished to a high sheen. The ceiling was low here, and it made the space seem cozy. The warmth of the earth-tones complimented each other, and the room was neither sparse nor cluttered but balanced just right. The tables all had fresh flowers in simple vases. At the table nearest us, and looking out into the darkness, were two place settings. We were alone in the dining room, but I could hear soft laughter and the lilt of conversation drift from other parts of the Lodge.

Leeza motioned us to the table, "Come, come. Sit down. You two have to be starving!"

*** the journey contiues ***

Lunch or Dinner? Both!

*** continued from previous post ***


Turns out the gentleman was very nice, and our room which we previewed - while small - is spotless.

As we conduct our business, we inquire as to the local cuisine. "Dave", (yes, that's his real name although he shall always be 'shirtless old dude' to me), ponders for a bit, scratching his chin. "Well, there is a pub down the road. You MIGHT give that a try. Or there is this Greek place." He continues to rattle off a few more happennin' spots around town. None of them were what I would call strong recommendations.

"It's kind of hard on a weekday. The places stay open later on the weekend. I think most of them close pretty early." He gave us a slight shrug of his shoulders as if to say in a semi-apologetic way, "What ya gonna do, eh?"

Close early? It's 6 flippin' o'clock! In the middle of summer! How early do they eat around here? I mean, we aren't on "Moore Time", you know? What's "Moore Time" you ask? You're Mom, in what I assume is rehearsal for old-age, prefers dinner at 4:00 to 4:30 in the afternoon. For me, that's lunch. Over the years, like so many tiny conflicts in our marriage we've managed to find a compromise, a middle-ground if you prefer that is mutually acceptable to us both. When possible we usually eat dinner at 4:00 to 4:30 in the afternoon.

Stop laughing. You know it's true.

We fill out the proper paperwork, get our key, and thankfully the next few minutes are uneventful as we unload the bike and settle into the room. The bed is very comfortable, and to my surprise we have a wireless internet connection. We have an air-conditioner. A toilet that doesn't smell of port-o-potty chemicals. Plus, the room isn't moving and weaving. After the day we've had this is the Ritz.

Life is good.


*** the journey continues tomorrow ***