Miss Lulu and I were out of town (again) last week. J was lamenting that within her 5 month lifespan, Lulu will have been on four vacations and he will have been on none. I'm just preparing her for the life to which she should become accustomed.
Life with a Butler
I toted Lulu to a corporate retreat with some dear friends who happen to be co-workers. We spent three days at the St. Regis hotel in Deer Valley getting work done. Never stayed at a 5 star hotel? I recommend it. You should do that immediately. Stop reading this and go check yourself in. The suite we bunked in came with a butler.
Here's a surreptitious picture I snapped of him as he settled us into lunch:
He was Bavarian. I got a chance to use my sehr rusty German. (Because he's MY butler!)
You can't even drive up to the lobby of the hotel, you have to drive to a lower level portico, valet your car, and then take the funicular up. Don't know how to pronounce "funicular"? Doesn't matter; it's fun no matter how you pronounce it. I would like a funicular installed to take me from my garage to the mailbox and back. I would also like one of those giant bathroom mirrors that are actually a TV. I discovered a remote hidden in our Egyptian cotton face cloths, behind the lavender scrub, and when the power was pressed, viola, TV in your marble bathroom. You get used to a certain way of living and it's hard to regress into the real world. The world without TVs in bathroom mirrors, porters, masseuses, and butlers.
Life Without a Butler
It was exceedingly sweet to see Lulu light up when she laid eyes on her long lost brothers. She giggled and chortled at all their entertaining antics. They compete to see who can make her laugh the hardest, performing jumping and karate-type moves to her extreme, hand-flapping delight. For all his serviceable glory, the butler never did that.
"What's that? My little finger? And who's wrapped around it again? That's what I thought, ALL OF YOU."