Funny, how you wake up one day and realize that it's March.
Not that there is anything wrong with the month of March; to the contrary, there is much to look forward to in the third month of the year. The arrival of spring, the illusion of an extra hour of daylight; these are all genuinely good things. On a more personal note, my wife's birthday is in March.
This year we've been in danger of falling into a trap. Before our marriage, we were given guidance by many an older, wiser couple - be sure to make time for each other. Sage advice. Sounds so easy. Make time for each other. Sounds like going to the grocery store for three items. No need to write them down; how could you possibly forget? The end result is always the same. An hour wasted and a shopping cart full, minus the third thing on the list. Next time, I'll write them down.
This winter we were in danger of doing exactly that - neglecting the most basic, fundamental, yet simplest aspect of a good relationship. We were failing to make time for each other. It wasn't her fault. Clocking well over the full-time rate of 40 hours per week, Ashley was simply not at home when I was.
Nor was it my fault. Last year I started a restoration project. Optimistically, I figured I'd have it wrapped up by Christmas 2011. As these things tend to go, the project took a great deal longer than originally anticipated. But now it's coming together. It's coming together so quickly, that as fast as I can work, I can scarcely keep up with the incoming progress. Oh, and on top of that, I run a dairy farm.
As a result of this, I was having lunch alone. My wife was coming home from work just as I was in the midst of evening chores. She was having supper alone. We saw each other, but only late at night and again early in the morning. Literally, our conversations were beginning to consist of "Good Night" and "Good Morning." It soon became apparent that we were in danger of ignoring the single most essential aspect of our lives: each other.
Then one day I awoke and realized, shoot - it's March. I knew my wife's birthday was fast approaching. Only a fool couldn't recognize that this year, given the circumstances, something special needed to be arranged. A quick discussion (which took place immediately before "good night") revealed our mutual desire - doesn't matter where we go, so long as it has nothing to do with cows, work or restorations.
I thus dusted off an idea that I had sitting on the back burner of my mind. Something extraordinary was in order this year. I had the blueprints and time to put the plan into action. I dialed area code 414, followed by seven digits. A charming and competent voice answered almost immediately, "Thank you for calling the Pfister, how may I help you?"
The Pfister Hotel has been widely recognized as the premier hotel in downtown Milwaukee, for over a century. It has an AAA Four-Diamond Award, as well as membership in the Historic Hotels of America. The Pfister exudes style and class, and is ideally located within walking distance to the shore of Lake Michigan, as well as vibrant restaurants, museums, and an energetic nightlife. A weekend in Milwaukee at such an establishment, with all that the downtown has to offer, was precisely the way to celebrate my wife's birthday.
I dialed the number, and was connected. I requested a standard room. Of course there was one available - not much is happening in March in Milwaukee in the way of tourism. I then feigned an afterthought. Knowing that premier hotels operate in much the same manner as airlines, I requested an upgrade to a premium room, should one be available (hotels, like airlines, will sell premium accommodation at reduced rates at the last minute if they are unable to fill them). I then requested the concierge. I explained that our stay marked a special occasion (which was the truth.) A chilled bottle of champagne, chocolates, and a bouquet of flowers would be in the room upon our arrival. I also booked a facial at the spa for her - I've been told girls like those sorts of things.
But then, the most unique thing occurred: Peter, the concierge, made a joke: "Oh, I see you're from Monroe. You're going to bring me some cheese, right?" We both had a laugh and, everything set, hung up.
The day before my wife's birthday, I drove us to Milwaukee. We parked outside the Pfister, and a valet commandeered my pickup truck. I felt a little out of place; I parked my 2002 Dodge Dakota directly behind a Mercedes S-Class, and a Jaguar XJ pulled up behind. Thank God I at least washed and waxed it before we left.
Not surprisingly, the Pfister was exquisite. We had been upgraded to a suite, and Peter had done well - flowers, champagne, and chocolates awaited our arrival. Keeping my end of the bargain, I presented the flabbergasted Peter with an assortment of world-champion cheeses from Torkelson Cheese Co. As I like to say, some of the best milk on earth goes into those cheeses.
Best of all, Ashley and I had an entire weekend in Milwaukee. No distractions, no work, no interruptions. As an added bonus, Peter sent up a complimentary cake and had the staff sing "Happy birthday."
It never hurts to make friends with the concierge.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
Not that there is anything wrong with the month of March; to the contrary, there is much to look forward to in the third month of the year. The arrival of spring, the illusion of an extra hour of daylight; these are all genuinely good things. On a more personal note, my wife's birthday is in March.
This year we've been in danger of falling into a trap. Before our marriage, we were given guidance by many an older, wiser couple - be sure to make time for each other. Sage advice. Sounds so easy. Make time for each other. Sounds like going to the grocery store for three items. No need to write them down; how could you possibly forget? The end result is always the same. An hour wasted and a shopping cart full, minus the third thing on the list. Next time, I'll write them down.
This winter we were in danger of doing exactly that - neglecting the most basic, fundamental, yet simplest aspect of a good relationship. We were failing to make time for each other. It wasn't her fault. Clocking well over the full-time rate of 40 hours per week, Ashley was simply not at home when I was.
Nor was it my fault. Last year I started a restoration project. Optimistically, I figured I'd have it wrapped up by Christmas 2011. As these things tend to go, the project took a great deal longer than originally anticipated. But now it's coming together. It's coming together so quickly, that as fast as I can work, I can scarcely keep up with the incoming progress. Oh, and on top of that, I run a dairy farm.
As a result of this, I was having lunch alone. My wife was coming home from work just as I was in the midst of evening chores. She was having supper alone. We saw each other, but only late at night and again early in the morning. Literally, our conversations were beginning to consist of "Good Night" and "Good Morning." It soon became apparent that we were in danger of ignoring the single most essential aspect of our lives: each other.
Then one day I awoke and realized, shoot - it's March. I knew my wife's birthday was fast approaching. Only a fool couldn't recognize that this year, given the circumstances, something special needed to be arranged. A quick discussion (which took place immediately before "good night") revealed our mutual desire - doesn't matter where we go, so long as it has nothing to do with cows, work or restorations.
I thus dusted off an idea that I had sitting on the back burner of my mind. Something extraordinary was in order this year. I had the blueprints and time to put the plan into action. I dialed area code 414, followed by seven digits. A charming and competent voice answered almost immediately, "Thank you for calling the Pfister, how may I help you?"
The Pfister Hotel has been widely recognized as the premier hotel in downtown Milwaukee, for over a century. It has an AAA Four-Diamond Award, as well as membership in the Historic Hotels of America. The Pfister exudes style and class, and is ideally located within walking distance to the shore of Lake Michigan, as well as vibrant restaurants, museums, and an energetic nightlife. A weekend in Milwaukee at such an establishment, with all that the downtown has to offer, was precisely the way to celebrate my wife's birthday.
I dialed the number, and was connected. I requested a standard room. Of course there was one available - not much is happening in March in Milwaukee in the way of tourism. I then feigned an afterthought. Knowing that premier hotels operate in much the same manner as airlines, I requested an upgrade to a premium room, should one be available (hotels, like airlines, will sell premium accommodation at reduced rates at the last minute if they are unable to fill them). I then requested the concierge. I explained that our stay marked a special occasion (which was the truth.) A chilled bottle of champagne, chocolates, and a bouquet of flowers would be in the room upon our arrival. I also booked a facial at the spa for her - I've been told girls like those sorts of things.
But then, the most unique thing occurred: Peter, the concierge, made a joke: "Oh, I see you're from Monroe. You're going to bring me some cheese, right?" We both had a laugh and, everything set, hung up.
The day before my wife's birthday, I drove us to Milwaukee. We parked outside the Pfister, and a valet commandeered my pickup truck. I felt a little out of place; I parked my 2002 Dodge Dakota directly behind a Mercedes S-Class, and a Jaguar XJ pulled up behind. Thank God I at least washed and waxed it before we left.
Not surprisingly, the Pfister was exquisite. We had been upgraded to a suite, and Peter had done well - flowers, champagne, and chocolates awaited our arrival. Keeping my end of the bargain, I presented the flabbergasted Peter with an assortment of world-champion cheeses from Torkelson Cheese Co. As I like to say, some of the best milk on earth goes into those cheeses.
Best of all, Ashley and I had an entire weekend in Milwaukee. No distractions, no work, no interruptions. As an added bonus, Peter sent up a complimentary cake and had the staff sing "Happy birthday."
It never hurts to make friends with the concierge.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
