Like a bad striptease, I’m working up to the yarn portion of this trip. Yes, I’m far behind in the posting but that’s what depression does to a blog**.
You’re lucky I’m not just posting about Stitches East, ok?
Jane and I made full use of the close proximity (1/4 mile) of the Cumberland Mall. If you know me, you know that I NEED to know where and when I’ll be having my next meal.
The Room Service Manager (RSM) fell in love with us and each day she brought a tray of cut fruit and another fruit basket. (It began because Jane didn’t get her English Muffin but it became so much more than that.)
We had so much fruit that before we got our breakfast delivered (we only had room service for breakfast), we would hide the previous day’s fruit on the window sill and close the blinds.
In the immortal words of Marie Barone “Oh, my god! What do I do with all this fruit?”
At one point, we got a salad from the little snack bar in the lobby and took it back to our room. I found a few eensy-teensy-tiny little bugs on the lettuce. At first we thought it was dirt.
I brought the salad back downstairs and the girl at the counter made a phone call to someone. A few minutes later our beloved RSM came running over, apologizing. Then she told the snack bar girl to give me anything I wanted. “Give her anything…give her EVERYTHING”, she exclaimed. Then she proceeded to try to get me to take SOMETHING (I didn’t want anything else) and when I declined, she started to offer fresh-made items from the kitchen, “Salmon Salad?” “PIZZA!” “I know! CHICKEN PANINI!!!”.
At that point I was laughing and finally had to back away (they had already refunded my money), I threw RSM a few kisses and ran for the elevator.
On our last morning, we received a fruit basket and 2 little bags with a banana in each of them. When the RSM called to see if our breakfast was to our liking, she said “You need potassium if you’re flying.” Then she called back and said she forgot to send up bottled water for our flight. Somehow, Jane smooshed the apples, cheese and crackers into her suitcase.
If you ever stay at the Waverly Renaissance in Atlanta and order room service, draw a smiley face on the breakfast menu…it may have been the key to our fruit extravaganza.
**My depression, not the blog’s. Tho I’m sure that my blog may be depressed from disuse. A wordy blog is a happy blog.