Lover's Weekend in Hot Springs, or Stonebow is a Bubble Bath Moron

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

It’s the end of the first quarter of school, and I’ve managed to make it through without having a complete nervous breakdown. They moved me from first grade to third grade. They gave me a …difficult…group of children, too. To make a long story short, I’ve been under a considerable amount of stress.

Stonebow is an amazingly considerate husband. He single-handedly arranged a Lover’s Weekend for the two of us in Hot Springs, AR. The man even called my mother to arrange weekend childcare for our youngest. Our reservations were at Spring Street Inn, a lovely bed and breakfast in the historic area of the city, and my husband informed me that our accommodations included a Jacuzzi for two. Heavenly. He packed snacks, treats, and wine. I picked out some amaretto scented bubble bath and a few frilly odds and ends to make the stay more enjoyable.

We arrived late on Friday night, and while Stonebow unpacked the wine, I ran the Jacuzzi full of water, added a dash of bubble bath, and much relaxation ensued. I slept better that night than I have in the past month- the dreamless, deep sleep of the slightly simmered, tipsy, and ravished. Saturday was a day of shopping, touristy-ness, and restaurant-going, and I looked forward to a repeat performance of Friday night to cap off the day. As I poured over my purchases of the day, Stonebow ran the bath and added the bubbles.

As I slipped into the tub, I noticed that there was considerably less bubble bath in the bottle than before, but my giddy, revved up brain didn’t really concern itself with the location of a missing half-cup of liquid. Stonebow got in, we arranged all our arms and legs, and hit the bubble button. Wow. There were a lot of bubbles. Um. Then, I couldn’t see my husband over the mound of bubbles. Er. Then, I had to stand up on my knees in order to avoid suffocation by bubbles. Hmm. The bubbles began to run over the side of the tub, so, finally, we both had to stand up and rake all the bubbles out onto the floor. The mound of bubbles on the floor stood almost as high as me. I spent the rest of that night mopping up the bathroom at the Spring Street Inn. To his credit, Stonebow helped with the cleaning, and vowed to let me handle all future bubble bath applications.

(It was a fabulous weekend, though!)

2

Haha!

I guess nobody had the presence of mind to catch this hilarious picture on film, hm?

3

Yeah, I can’t speak for any other men out there, but when it comes to “how much bubble stuff do I put in here?” I’m pretty much lost.

4

This dinky little amount won’t make any bubbles worth talking about. I’m probably supposed to use the whole bottle. Lessee, it’s only eight ounces–hell, that’s nothing. In it goes. Hey, it isn’t gonna do much of anything. I better get another bottle. I want her to remember this!

5

Probably looked somewhat like the time a tenant in my building used dishwashing liquid instead of dishwasher powder in their breakroom dishwasher. Only without the wine, candles and slippery naked bodies, of course :slight_smile: . BTW, you can tone the bubbles way down by adding salt to the mixture.

6

Did you go to one of the hot baths and get a massage? Those are divine.

7

Well, no. We thought about it. There was a store on Central called The Alchemy. It smelled great and had lots of spa stuff with affordable prices, but the clerk scared us. She stalked around in black spike heels, wearing a suit, hair pulled back tight in a plain chignon, spoke very forcefully about the massages we were going to have. Clearly there were going to be whips and chains involved there, and I’m sub only for my hubby. :wink:

It was one of those weekends that had so many strange little quirks that it just kept being fun. There was a convention of Red Hats at the Arlington (Think senior citizen women with the uniforms and personality displays of cheerleaders in highschool). I think there was a convention of bikers, too, unless they always hang out at Granny’s Kitchen for ice cream cones. Odd, that. Large, hairy men in leather and bandanas, and everyone of them holding a sugar cone with one or two scoops of rainbow colored ice cream. Then, there was the little Eastern European woman in the bath house tour who kept exclaming that all the equipment looked just like Auszwitz. Lots of small yippy dogs on leashes (my favorites were the weiner dogs and puffy Pomeranians). We also got to see a waitress catfight at Shapiro’s during lunch.

We did have Sunday lunch at Belle Arti, if you want to talk about divine!

8

It was indeed a divine weekend, technical difficulties aside.

The saddest part of the weekend was observing a Red Hat with her husband in tow…this poor, little man had been forced into a purple shirt and red suspenders, and was carrying the shopping bags of his wife and her friends. I felt like I had to put him out of his misery.

And one guy standing outside one of the shops furtively asked my wife if she wanted to ‘ride the duck’…he almost got a punch in the face before we saw the ‘duck tours’ they offer in hot springs. The duck is an all-terrain boat/apc that they use for touring the lake and surrounding area.

We had a good time…it was very ‘middle America’ on the strip (the wax museum was super lame), but there were some really nice places too. We shopped more than we needed to, and certainly ate more than we should have…but it was the best time we’ve had in some time.

And Belle Arti was fantastic! We had a very satisfying food experience all around.

9

Hooray for a memorable weekend!

Ha. Reminds me a few years back, when I was holidaying in Mazatlan. I got pretty flummoxed when a half-naked guy who was maybe 18 or 19 approached me near the beach and asked “Hey mister, you like to ride the banana?”

Later, I saw the big banana being towed around by a speedboat, and realized that I’d misinterpreted him somewhat. :smack:

10

Anthony and Cleopatra
Paris and Helen of Troy
Autie and Libby Custer

 Stonebow and FaerieBeth