Fa! Ri! Fl! Ot! Da! Y! Sa! M!
You want to know what I’m sick of?
Wait! Hear me out on this.
Hotels. MASSIVE, posh, too-expensive, froo froo hotels. It’s not that I think they’re BAD. Because they’re definitely not an awful place to be. I’m no animal. It’s just . . . . what happened to MOTELS, MAN?
A funky, multi-colored vintage motel with a little awning and an outdoor pool out in the middle of everything. What happened to that whole thing? And why don’t more people stay in motels? (besides roaches and bed bugs and murderers. . . oh my.)
Guys, I think we should bring the motel back. I just feel like there’s a giant missed opportunity with motel MAGIC, and all that they could be!
PICTURE THIS: a bar next to the outdoor pool. And maybe a fire pit. Everything feels like it’s from the ’50s and ’60s with muted pinks and pale blues and yellows. Patio lights are strung everywhere and good music plays in the (now slightly bigger) lobby where you check in and mingle with the other guests. Rosé is given out among arrival. Okay that’s basically all I want really. The rosé at arrival.
I think this could be a thing!
In my head it’s WAY more charming and fabulous than a hotel could be ever be. Have I gone mad? Don’t answer that.
Listen. Are there motels in this country that I need to seek out? We’re traveling to Oregon this June (another month-long relocation!) so I’m on a hyper mission to stay in those funky motels with big neon signs out front!
Roaches sold separately.
And while we’re at it, WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO GAZEBOS? I just feel like there aren’t enough gazebos in this world. And the gazebos that you’re thinking about right now, well . . . they’re famous.
The Sound of Music.
Anne of Avonlea.
SOMEWHERE IN TIME. omg.
WHY DON’T WE HAVE MORE GAZEBOS? If a town or village is being built from scratch, I just feel like at that very first meeting, a gazebo needs to be at the top of the list. “Super pumped to build our new town, you guys! Eeee! Where will the gazebo go!?”
I mean, how hard was that?
Wait, you know what, I’m adding a gazebo to all of our motels! It’s right next to the bar which is right next to the swimming pool and fire pit under the patio lights and the rosé in our hands that we got at arrival. Done.
So glad we had this talk.
On a scale from nope to UM, YEAH – how bad do we need to watch Bird Box?
Which one first? Bird Box or You?
I’ve been hearing about both Netflix shows, and while I know very little about each, I’m curious to know which one is more worth it. Have you watched?
Should I be scared?! I’m excited.
Wish I could watch under a gazebo at a motel by the swimming pool and the fire pit with the patio lights and a rosé in my hand that I got at arrival.
THINGS I LEARNED IN A POWER CUT:
- to call it “power cut” because Peppa Pig calls it power cut.
- after the three-hour mark when things start to look grim and hopeless, grab some crates and baskets and organize your fridge food to stash outdoors on the concrete or yard or patio table. (p.s. that o’douls is Aaron’s. he drinks it after manual labor if he doesn’t feel like beer. weird, I know.)
- Gin Rummy and Speed and Go Fish! (seriously didn’t know how to play Go Fish. are you deleting me from your life?)
- Immediately (which we did not do) hang sheets or blankets in the doorways to keep the heat in the living room. And keep that fire going, man. Keep it going.
- Save your 14-year old wedding candles for said power cut. If you’re planning a wedding right now, add “extra candles for power cut 14 years from now.”
- Boil water in a big pot in the kitchen for warmth.
- Run hot shower in the bathroom five minutes before you need the bathroom.
- Tons of wonderful friends will offer to take your whole family in. Don’t do it! It’s a trap! (just kidding. thank you ALL.)
- Make your living room a campground. A tent for the kids with a blanket on top. Sleeping bags on the couch for the adults.
We’re getting more snow. Except! I keep eagle-eye following the doplar storm track 55 or whatever, and I doooon’t think it’s going to be nearly as bad as what they predicted even three days ago. Three inches, tops. HEAR THAT, MAMA NAY NAY? THREE INCHES AND YOU’RE DONE. Sorry to scream at you, Mama Nay Nay. (<–that’s what I call Mother Nature. You may now delete me from your life.)