The Beast and I realized that his dad has probably seen Nick Edwards more than we have this year, which hardly seems fair.
We enjoyed both their company at the Beast’s dad’s pop-up art reception. A few of Nick’s illustrations are included in the show; specifically, illustrations from Bumble Bear, a children’s story that the Beast wrote years ago.
When we first spotted Nick Edwards, I think our heart’s skipped a beat. As usual, he was wearing about 36 layers. But there was no key fastened around his neck with string; no flip flops from China Town.
He was carrying a takeout “Timmies”.
“You know what you look like?” said the Beast. “You look like Ed Harris if he was starring in a one-person production of A Perfect Storm written specifically for kids.”
Meanwhile, Nick regaled us with tales of the new Aaron Sorkin Steve Jobs biopic. He said he couldn’t stop thinking about how much Jobs and his wife reminded him of us: from their back-and-forth bickering to their appearances. Because they are played by Michael Fassbender and Kate Winslet I was really excited about the comparison.
But the Beast burst that bubble when he noted that Jobs and his wife had a vegan wedding cake.
We all drove home together after the reception, which had a spectacular turnout. It was past 10:00 p.m. and I had to be up by 5. But none of us had eaten dinner. So I made a pitstop at A&W where I picked up five teen burgers, three French fries, two onion rings and a poutine. I don’t think it’s important to detail how this was divvied up. Suffice it to say, we all went to bed satisfied.
Sometimes I day dream about planning a trip for the Beast and Nick to take together. I don’t know if either of them would be capable of organizing it themselves. I don’t even know if they would want to. But I think it would be good for them to do because they bring out the best in each other.
Also, I have developed a small fixation with hotels so I would be really good at making sure they were comfortable. I have lists of luxury lodges and historic hotels in North America that I would very much like to stay at. Most of them are out of my price range. But the thrill of scoring a deal–maybe off-season?–has made my searching approximate addiction. I steal moments at least a few times a week to gaze at the accommodations at The Ocean House in Rhode Island; the Inn at Furnace Creek in Death Valley; The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, MI; the Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, NY.
I don’t know where the obsession is rooted. I love my own home, my own bed. But the day-dreaming of new exotic beds, to be shared with the Beast, is overwhelming. Maybe I just need to get away for a bit.
Lucky for me, we leave for Florida on Monday. And my hotel research obsession really came in handy. We have 24 hours in South Beach, and two nights in the Keys–one night in Key West and the other night in Islamorada.
I have no idea how Miami got into our heads. Was it watching the first season of Bloodline starring Coach Taylor, parts of which were filmed in Islamorada? I don’t think so. But that didn’t stop me from trying to book a room at The Moorings Village and Spa that doubles as the show’s family-run business.
It was too expensive but I found a lovely place called the Pines and Palms resort. I booked it before reading that Martha Stewart and her family stayed there once.
This is the type of shit that is getting me off lately.
We are staying at The Angler’s Hotel in South Beach.
I have no idea what to expect of South Beach. Will we end up at a club dancing with girls in bikinis wearing rollerblades? Will we sip on cocktails in the lobbies of Art Deco hotels with drag queens that we just befriended? I don’t know!
But Simon was devastated when he found out that the restaurant housed in Gianni Versace former villa is closed on Mondays. He wanted to take me there for a simple, understated birthday dinner.
So instead, we are winging it: no reservations, anywhere. But we dream of finding roadside pitstops selling deep-fried conch on our drive to the Keys. I can’t remember the last time I took a trip without lunches and dinners planned. We are really living on the fucking edge!
Every few days I show the Beast some photos of the places we are staying. “What if we get one of the historic rooms when we check into the Gardens Hotel in Key West?” I say.
“What will we even do? Can you imagine? OMG! And have you already arranged to hide a wedding ring under my pillow LOL?”
“No,” he says, “I’ve hidden it in the bottom of Hemingway’s cat’s litter box at the Hemingway Home and Museum in Key West.”
So now you’ll know why my hands smell like cat shit when we get home.