I was still lying supine in sweet slumber when my Valentine’s Day commenced. A cunningly dressed, rented service monkey climbed onto my bed bearing a fresh croissant and strawberries on a silver tray. As my lustrous lashes struggled to open, I heard the deep tones of a professional cowboy baritone on a bay quarterhorse singing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning” just outside my window.
By the time I had consumed my delicious repast, my hot bath had been drawn, lightly scented with lavender, impossibly fluffy Turkish cotton towels laid by. Later, hair styled by Nick and makeup artfully applied by Carmindy from TLC's "What Not to Wear", I slipped into my new Marc Jacob’s designed outfit before hopping in the limo that would take me to my massage appointment.
Relaxed and buoyed by the massage and 45 minutes of affirmation from a certified self-worth booster named Nigel, my sweetheart husband whisked me off to the Phoenician for the rest of the day/night activities which included but are not limited to:
- Romantic ride in heart shaped hot air balloon
- Gondola trip through the lagoon at the Hyatt amidst trained carp doing synchronized routine to Barry Manilow singing “Mandy”
- Air force jet flyover that left contrails spelling out “Larainy” in the blue Arizona sky
- Woven circlet of wildflowers placed on my flaxen curls
- Dancing in the rain like nobody was watching
Oh... and how was your Valentine’s Day?