Suzanna Danna

I have decided that I would like to live at the Hotel Crescent Court Spa.

Even amidst the general malaise and crankiness that follows a long ‘living out of my suit case, you must be smoking some serious crack if you think I’ve slept’ type of trip and premenstrual blahs… the staff at the Crescent Court Spa treated me like a portly queen.

Fluffing my robe… inviting me to citrus water and scrumptious fruit, slathering my poor, dry skin with scented lotions and speaking in muted tones.

I could live there. Really.

The beautiful, ebony demi-god that gave me a much-needed aromatherapy facial barely said a word. He just went about his work quietly applying serums to my face and neck. All the while soothing tones of babbling brooks and ocean waves played in the background.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

Steam opened my pores as Kenneth worked each new concoction into my neglected skin. Citrus to slough off dead skin cells and a moisture mask that smells heavenly and is so thick he painted it on my face and neck with a brush.

Almost an hour of attention paid to my face and neck.

I’m sorry skin. I’ve been so mean to you. I’ve been using hotel soap in the mornings to wash you and I’ve been so sleepy and downright cranky that I’ve been falling into my fitful rest with makeup firmly implanted upon my mug while my face screams in horror and my pores groan under the weight of their own dirt and sludge. Ick.

My eyelashes have become brittle and my eyes red and puffy as mascara flakes off into them with each toss and turn of each fitful and restless night.

I will do better, I promise.

The appointments just kept getting better and better.

Perry, a soft-spoken masseuse led me to another dimly lit room with soft music, a draped table and then he withdrew as I settled in for my massage. Before he left he asked me if I was having any issues that we needed to work on, sore back?, neck? I told him to treat me like I was eighty. He raised an eyebrow with a slight smile, and said, “So just a light, topical massage? No deep tissue?” I told him that was perfect.

I got onto the table face down and when Perry came back in he started at my neck and shoulders first. Normally that makes me tense up since I carry a lot of stress there, but he was wonderful. I found myself drifting. I didn’t even do that, “Where are his shoes?” thing… Oh, don’t give me that look ya’ll. You’ve done it. Face down, nekkid, in a strange room getting massaged, you know you look for their shoes.

An hour of beautiful attention paid to my poor dry skin.

I’ve tried everything. Really. I’ve taken vitamin E. I use Neutrogena bath oil after every shower. I have even cooled down my showers so they aren’t so hot. Nothing is working. I use lotion daily. My skin is still dry. So having this extra emollient lightly lavender scented lotion rubbed into my skin was heaven. I felt like a princess. My face was glowing. And the rest of me was following suit.

I was so relaxed I even half snored. I was almost a snort. Sexy. I laughed a little and he was so cool, he said, “No worries, we all relax.”

I love the Crescent.

After those two appointments, we (parties shall remain nameless) had lunch.

Check it. And got to remain in our robes. How cool is that????

After lunch, manicure… perfect, perfect little manicure and then a spa pedicure. So, more massaging and pampering. My fingernails and toenails are all OPI chick flick cherry.

We were there from 8:00 am until 2:30 pm. And I did not want to leave.

I plan things, conferences and meetings, for a living. One of the perks of this profession are that I do site visits and get “points” and blah, blah, blah…. Like when I worked for a national association, I planned conventions in Vegas. I have been to Vegas a bunch of times, and (here’s the rub…. Rub?… mmmmmmm) never paid for a thing. Not the room, which was picked up by the property trying to gain my business. Not the shows, those were paid for by the CVB in appreciation for us holding our gig at their convention center… you get the idea. Basically, I just had to get there… and that was taken care of by my company.

I’ve become accustomed to nice things… like the Crescent.

I cannot afford the Crescent.

This weekend was part of a birthday gift (not to me, I was just invited… lucky bitch ain’t I?) that was very generous indeed. I guess I just need to refocus my birthday, anniversary, Valentines Day, Christmas and any other gift-giving day signs to all point to “Anything to have to do with aromatherapy facials, massages, manicures and pedicures. Gift certificates welcome.”

I am sure that Mister would be thrilled, as he gets all hive-y when he goes clothes shopping for me. Last Christmas he took my lipstick into a store and said… “I need a sweater… that matches this.” Clever, no?

But then for my birthday last year he took me to the Melting Pot… and the pearls and … oh, well…. I think I wrote about it here. And he is so very creative, so if I took that away with the requesting of the “all things to take care of the outer me”… would he be upset about not being able to flex that creative gift giving muscle? Hmmm.

Hey guys, will ya’ll speak up? What do you prefer? Do you like the challenge of finding a gift for your bride, lover, girlfriend, boyfriend, mother, cat… whatever? Or would you rather get us a gift certificate to “Girls R Us”?

Stacey has requested at all gift-giving opportunities to have gift certificates for the Grand Spa. Which is a lovely idea… yes, I would love to be able to leave work and swing by a lavish spa to have some lovely lotioning and muscle smooshing and know I had a gift certificate to do it wouldn’t you?

Or would you ladies rather have gift certificates to Sephora and Saks so you can purchase your expensive department store brand makeup?

Clarins … I’m looking at you.
[psst… I still love you, call me. I’m at the same number… I miss you.]