417

Saturday

I am in my happy face! 

Nope.. not a typo.. 

I see a lot of happy faces, and I haven’t left the room yet. 

And grumpy ones too, because of mediocre coffee in the room.

Happy and Grumpy.. two out of seven dwarves ain’t bad.

You know I’m crazy AF, right?

 Of course you do, but hey.. I’M not the one reading this.

Yesterday was 2/13, the twelfth anniversary of losing my mom. 

I don’t light candles to commemorate her passing, I write a one act play of our yearly  imagined phone calls on that day. 

Something I suggest you all do when you’re thinking about that lost loved one.

The point is, I have never had an issue with those three numbers,  213, but I do with 417.. ever since my father died on that terrible day in  April 1989. I simply cannot acknowledge that number.. I won’t fly on that day, I won’t even look at a clock. 

Once, a stray twig was lodged between the “ 4” and the “7” of my street address, and I had a total freak out for the rest of the day, convinced the wind blew the twig there to send me a message.

So you could just imagine my reaction upon checking in yesterday.. to room 417. 

I made the instant decision, right there in the lobby, to bid my neurosis adieu, as we are totally enjoying all the amenities in this wonderfully located room, with Evan and Michelle right next door, appreciating that this is three times the size of an ocean liner stateroom. 

We stayed in this same building once before,  in 2005, in the winter, when the idiot me pulled back the curtain and shouted: “ look at this FIELD! I don’t remember seeing anything like this when we were here in June!”

(because the field was obviously a lake, and still is a lake, and I’m obviously an idiot.) 

I’m a cocky moron.

Next thing you know, I’ll be doing lines of coke off of a toilet seat.

I’m mesmerized by the view as I sit in this room, ten times the size of an upper East Side apartment, wondering if a professional numerologist as nuts as me would have demanded a room change by now.

Arrival and departure days here at Woodloch aren’t quite as jam packed and blog worthy as those in between days, but I did have one of the best salads I ever had in my life last night. 

( how desperate for material am I  that I’m writing about salads? I don’t eat healthy foods that often. I probably have only consumed 417 salads in the last decade)

After attending one of this resort’s most popular event, the hilarious horse racing game played with wooden horse heads on a long table in a buzzing nightclub, the four of us sat by the crackling fire and played a wonderful game called “Slingzs.” It’s the perfect boxed game for even a small group of creative, fast thinking gamers who love to have fun.

Our background music was karaoke, which I aptly refer to as Kara-no-key, which you’d do as well as you heard how a drunken soccer mom can destroy an ABBA classic. 

Off to the movie game, a tough and challenging event that I’m predicting my daughter in law will positively ace and get us our first coveted medal.

More later..​