I’m having a most excellent weekend already. I told Elliott it was a good experiment to try a small getaway like this – because I think it’ll work better than the bigger ones we usually do. Not that we won’t still fly off to Mexico once in awhile, just that maybe we can make more time for things like this.

We are cozily ensconced at our home for the next couple of days, a room up high in the Hotel Max. I love the city lights at night, and it’s also nice that the hotel is in an area that’s quiet (relatively) after the workday ends. I stayed once in Belltown, and won’t ever again because there is so much nightlife that you can’t get a good night’s sleep until – oh, 3am or so. This hotel has the best beds – I think as good as the W, from what I remember of staying there.

Soon as we got settled, we were out walking the few blocks to Buenos Aires Grill for dinner with Natasha and Mr.N. I wore my comfortable high heels just because we knew we were walking, not cabbing. When the restaurant is a mere 6 blocks away it’s really the only option. Besides, nothing nicer after a big meal than walking, and Buenos Aires does do substantial meals. They’re an Argentinian steakhouse, with items like baseball cut steaks and family-style grill (a bit of everything meat.) They also have a couple performing tango on weekend evenings, which is my favorite part. I found out when taking tango lessons that it’s one of the most difficult partner dances to learn. Mostly because learning to follow, if that’s your part, is crucial. I’m not always good at following. heh. The tango performances got better and better as the evening wore on and the room cleared, culminating in a sultry final number performed up and down the length of the bartop. Makes a good stage.

On the way back, we stopped at the hotel restaurant/bar for a nightcap and I indulged something I almost never do anymore: my love of single malt scotch. First a tiny bit of Laphroaig, which I know to be one of my favorites, then Oban. I tend to go for the very peaty scotch, but the Oban was an agreeable deviation from that norm. I love everything about scotch, especially the smell. Oban has a light bouquet, Laphroaig is overwhelming in the best way.

Now it’s morning – Elliott is curled up in the bedding looking all yummy, and I’m considering a quick shower before room service gets here. And feeling very spoiled in my comfy robe, drinking coffee and listening to the city start to come to life for the day. Very different from countrymouse life at home.


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