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juushikaIt is, perhaps (after two play reviews just posted: She Loves Me and Well), obvious that I spent the weekend in Ashland with my family. The plays were not my heart-beating life-changing picks for the season but this was one of the better trips we've made. I could say much about it, but instead I give you a page I wrote in my Moleskine* on May 15th, written with a pen** making a swift journey towards death, concerning—largely—the weather:
The hotel in question is The Village Suites at Ashland Hills, which I much recommend. Shortly after writing the above we went to dinner at the Thai Pepper, which only provides their vegetarian menu upon request, is a little small, needs a better seating arrangement, and is still my favorite restaurant in town because their Garlic Tofu with Broccoli is exquisite—buttery but not heavy, lots of garlic but slightly roasted by the butter to mellow out the flavor, fresh and plentiful and absolute delicious. Everyone had a great meal, actually. We saw She Loves Me on Saturday and Well on Sunday, matinées both which makes for a bit of hurry to get there but relaxes the pacing on the whole, especially in the evening. Both days were summer-tempestuous: sunny and warm but slightly overcast and muggy, refreshed periodically with warm rain. And so, on the whole, while I can make any vacation stressful for myself, despite unrelenting back pain, always in the midst of thinky-thoughts on my family, this was a lovely, beautiful, and peaceful visit.
* This is the reverse of my large ruled notebook. I have story drafts in the front and sundry notes, reviews, and scraps in the back. One day, they shall meet in the middle.
** The deep dregs of my Pilot V Razor Point Extra Fine pen in black. These are my pens of choice because they're liquid and felt-tip, which means they glide over the page and have a deep, wet, slightly feathery ink; when the pen is empty, though, it makes for a moment of fat wet lines followed by a fine gray scrawl—which I can't help but use anyway, because I don't toss a pen until it stops writing.
We're at a different hotel this time, one further out of town. The rooms are much larger, with the bedroom and sitting room partitioned; Mum and Papa have one room, while Allie and I share a room far down the hall. And these change are a blessing—it is so much more comfortable here.
Lighting just flashed out the window. I sat down to write not of the rooms—though they do occasion mention—but of the weather. Early summer sun has given way to early summer storms, gusting wind and thick gray sky (still silver with the last of the afternoon's sun), splatterings of rain and now the first rumble of thunder, while wind buffets warm and thick.
Allie is out of the room, exploring with Papa. I've been reading a pair of books interchangeably. The bedsheets here are soft, I found the extra pillows, and I've been wearing my more comfortable PJs for a clothing break before dinner. All is silent but for the ghost of the storm and the sound of the fan, which mimics the wind outdoors.
I was not looking forward to this trip for many reasons—but in this moment, it is wholly worthwhile.
The hotel in question is The Village Suites at Ashland Hills, which I much recommend. Shortly after writing the above we went to dinner at the Thai Pepper, which only provides their vegetarian menu upon request, is a little small, needs a better seating arrangement, and is still my favorite restaurant in town because their Garlic Tofu with Broccoli is exquisite—buttery but not heavy, lots of garlic but slightly roasted by the butter to mellow out the flavor, fresh and plentiful and absolute delicious. Everyone had a great meal, actually. We saw She Loves Me on Saturday and Well on Sunday, matinées both which makes for a bit of hurry to get there but relaxes the pacing on the whole, especially in the evening. Both days were summer-tempestuous: sunny and warm but slightly overcast and muggy, refreshed periodically with warm rain. And so, on the whole, while I can make any vacation stressful for myself, despite unrelenting back pain, always in the midst of thinky-thoughts on my family, this was a lovely, beautiful, and peaceful visit.
* This is the reverse of my large ruled notebook. I have story drafts in the front and sundry notes, reviews, and scraps in the back. One day, they shall meet in the middle.
** The deep dregs of my Pilot V Razor Point Extra Fine pen in black. These are my pens of choice because they're liquid and felt-tip, which means they glide over the page and have a deep, wet, slightly feathery ink; when the pen is empty, though, it makes for a moment of fat wet lines followed by a fine gray scrawl—which I can't help but use anyway, because I don't toss a pen until it stops writing.
