Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Wednesday, Wednesday in St. Paul

Wednesday was rainy and cold, so I spent a comfortable morning scribbling blog posts in a notebook, working through a bible study (tell me friends:  Am I the only one who can't stand David?  I know it probably says something terrible about me, but I have a feeling if David and I were to enter an episode of Doctor Who and somehow co-exist within the same earthly timeline, we would loathe each other.  I'm suspicious of overly charming people- I feel like I'm being manipulated- and David does a number of seriously heinous things, realizes he's been a naughty, naughty David, and whines about it for the rest of eternity.  I decided to do this study because I was hoping it would change my long-held opinion about David.  So far, nope.), and reading bits and pieces of The City, An Altar in the World, and The Yiddish Policemen's Union.

Around 12:15 I finally got sick of myself and decided I need a little stimulation, so I went for a 45-minute walk through the St. Paul Skyway, where by minute 20 I had gotten all the stimulation I needed, but was by this point, of course, lost.  (HEY.  Those skyways are positively labyrinthine, not nearly as straightforward as the maps would have you believe.)

I did finally make it back to our hotel room, and vowed never to leave again.  Have I mentioned how much we loved our hotel?  WE LOVED OUR HOTEL.  It occupies three floors of a downtown St. Paul building constructed in 1917, and so much of the original ornate detail still exists in the lobby and select pockets of the building:

Just a slice of the view from the second floor balcony down into the lobby.  You can't even see the grand piano or the front desk.

As for our room, the parts you want to be tasteful and charming were, well, tasteful and charming, and the parts that you want to be just a teensy bit more modern (read:  shower, kitchenette, mattress, Keurig) were perfectly updated.

Hello, room.  I miss your big, original windows that actually open.  I miss your soft lighting from four separate lamps.  I miss your high ceilings and your two capacious built-in wardrobes and your complementary K-cups (replenished daily!) and your little tubs of flavored coffee creamer and the helpful nonjudgmental people working at the front desk who gave me all the extra creamer I could want.  Oh, and?  Every single room is different, which means we have no choice but to go back.  Our hands are tied.

Hello, big ol' bed with built-in drawers there at the bottom that you unfortunately can't see in this photo.

Yes, this bathroom was on the small side, but whomever it was that set up this little boutique hotel put all kinds of space-saving bits of genius all over.  

Plus, there's a little step-up to get into the (scrupulously clean) bathroom.

I don't know why I geek out over little steps and old doors.  I just do.

Two steps to get into the shower.  I didn't know what to do with myself.

Wardrobes are my love language.  Especially when they have waffle-weave hotel robes hanging inside.  Especially especially when the hangers holding onto those robes contain a (nicely) sarcastic little note informing you that if that robe somehow finds its way into your luggage when you leave, you can go ahead and have it for the bargain price of $75 a pop, or you can contact the front desk and they'll get one for you for a much more reasonable price.

You can see why we didn't want to leave.  Ever.  I'm sure we could have found a place to stuff the children.  I mean, there are two wardrobes.  Not mention free breakfast for hours and hours every morning.  I do believe all three of our kids would agree to a wardrobe for a bedroom in exchange for waffles every single day.  


  1. Wow. That's like going to stay at a castle, except a modern one.

    I have GOT to go find out what "The Yiddish Policemen's Union" is about. What a title!

  2. I had never heard of the St. Paul Skyway. I just looked them up and read about them (out loud) to the family. That sounds very cool, and another good reason to visit St. Paul.


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