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I have to admit, it took me quite a while to get into the swank groove yesterday, but it turned out to be a delightful swanking after all.
Even with more Bog people (us this time!), and personal lady bug infestations, the Conservatory didn't thrill me. A decision to get lunch next at the trailer from hell nearly ruined my harmony for good.
I thought all was lost for me when I found the roses pretty, but boring. Row after row after row and we were examining every bloom and petal of every variety ever bred in the mad horticulturist's floral laboratory.
Ah, but then the conversion came ... and I might have known € would be the inspiration. He had been sitting on a bench off to the side and I decided (far later than I should have) to join him. Ah, the swank rolled in.
Under the dripping, droopy eaves of the oldest, old man willow ... the world started in to hum. The weepers of this willow dipped all the way to the ground, and we were enveloped in a bio dome of treestuff, splashes of multi-rose colors visible through the leaves and, best of all, the subtle scent of sweetly mixed rose perfume wafting towards us on the breeze.
Le Sigh.
The swank had begun.
Next thing I knew, we passed through the Chinese Dragon portals into the Twilight Zone.
The musical entrance, the hidden and exotic Japanese gardens ... koi and turtle and cascades and banzai.
Ah, then zen gardens and palm forests, deserts blooming with diseased phalluses and spelling out "L O T" with out bodies on the lawn.
€ running up the hill losing his shoe and rolling down the hill losing his glasses. The goose mating dance. Even the bungled jungle couldn't damper my spirits at that point.
And the obligatory and wonderful after-swanking dinner and cocktail reception. Exema was delightful ... lamb presentation fiasco notwithstanding. Mojo mojitos, yummy food, great company.
When's our next swanking??
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