Sanctuary

“Away” is existential. Sure, there’s the literal geography of being in a different place. That’s a given. But you can be elsewhere physically and leave your mind back home. I didn’t do that.

Alice fell down her hole. (Heh-heh, I said “hole”.) Dorothy rode her cyclone. Arthur Dent hitched. I just drove up Interstate 15 until we hit Shangri-La. Wondrous food, blinking lights, sparkly clean toilets with automated soap dispensers – Las Vegas is more fun for me as an adult than Disneyland ever was for me as a child.

Again, all of that is a given. Those of you who’ve followed this blog (and big hugs to you!) have read about it before. I’m stuck trying to explain why this trip was bigger than all the previous. It was, and more.

No, I didn’t win lots of money. Well I did, but I graciously gave it back before we left. The food was both abundant and marvelous, the butternut risotto with gingersnap foam and candied pecans created just for me by the chef at Fleur de Lys (don’t try to order it, it’s not on the menu) will be a fond memory always. That was after the hostess recognized my face and smiled us to our regular table without me ever saying my name.

Birthday flowers (lilacs in March in the desert!) along with a five layer birthday cake and enormous tropical fruit basket appeared magically in the room. Mountains of the most delectable pastries gifted by the Bouchon chef at breakfast were devoured with the amazing piles of food we’d actually ordered. Tony the Jedi-waiter at RM liked my haircut. The chef at Fleur spoiled me gorgeously for mere mortal chow.

And the stories, oh my, the stories were funny. I’ll give you those in dribs and drabs while I try to parse the mental stuff, the Zen of elsewhere. Onward and backward we will go, my darlings. Excelsior!