Small Gestures Mean Alot

I was thinking about typing the next journal entry I wrote from our trip to Charleston, and I remembered the special gesture the Governors House made for our anniversary. They had made reservations for us at a restaurant called Slightly North of Broad, commonly known as SNOB (which, incidentally I heard they also own another called South of Broad - SOB). Upon being seated and then greeted by a very friendly waitress, who happened to remind us of my college pal Gwen, we were congratulated with two glasses of champagne compliments of the Governors House. Awwww! 

This isn't the first time we had been on a special occasion trip (my agency calls this niche "Splurge Travel") and been touched by the extra efforts of a hospitality professional. On our ten year anniversary, we arrived at the airport without my husband knowing where we were headed. When the airline employee at check-in asked him what his destination was and he said had no idea because it was a surprise (thanks to my biz partner Kimberly), she was so touched she upgraded us to first class! In Taos at the abode style bed & breakfast, the young lady Consuela - 17 year old girlfriend of the owners' son, secretly placed a homemade carrot cake on our dresser for us to find after a day exploring.

These gestures, some small and some large, all happen to make a huge impact, and I hope I always take the extra time to thank the people and businesses for their gestures. It makes for special moments that burn a memory in my heart.

My First Post - it only took 20 years of marriage!

My first post on my blog is actually the beginning of a travel journal I wrote on my 20 year anniversary trip last month with my husband Gene to the charming southern city of Charleston, S.C. It's a bit long, but hopefully worth the read.

April 19th 8:30 am

It's the morning after our first night in Charleston. I've taken to the porch with a cup of coffee and a book while Gene gets his beauty sleep. It's about 70 degrees - maybe 65 and sunny, and the sound of the fountain aside the drive is doing its best to drown out the traffic. The Governors House Inn is everything I'd hoped it would be, a southern gracious old home built in the late 1700's. It faces Broad Street, which is one of the few negatives, as the street is busy and the cars are audible from our room. We are staying in the only first floor guestroom (Gene's knees), the Wagoner Room. It is part of an addition built in the 1800's by the owners. The room is deep red with a canopy bed and hardwood floors, and other than the more contemporary marble and glass shower, takes you back in time. The side porch where I am rocking is about 30' long by about 10' wide, scattered with white wicker seating and wrought iron tables. The yard boasts manicured greenery and fountains with huge oak trees. The tall black painted shutters and potted plants are a charming backdrop to the flowered throw pillows, pineapple lamps and ceramic pottery. 

Yesterday afternoon when we first arrived in time for wine and cheese, I made friends with a tiny bird who trotted along the porch rail and back of my chair. The sound of constant birds tells me his home was nearby. The interior of this grand house is much more formal, with a grand curving staircase, library, living room and formal dining. Mary, who checked us in yesterday at a large mahogany desk by the front door, showed us the portrait of John Rutledge, former governor of Charleston. The room rate ("tariff" as Mary called it in her southern drawl) is $305 nightly, and was confirmed to us on a hand-written index card. Our keys are the old-fashioned kind, one for our room and one for the front door of the inn. After our wine, we strolled the property and I took photos of brick walls, old doors and landscaping. Then, of course, Gene chatted it up with a young couple from CT who recommended visiting the Aiken Rhett House, which we notably remembered by associating Rhett Butler and Clay Aiken. Upon a suggestion by Mary, we strolled up King Street past art galleries and posh shops to Jim & Nick's BBQ joint. We split a rack of baby backs and each ordered a different local brew. The meal and atmosphere were just what we wanted, the onion rings were awesome but the mac 'n cheese a bit mushy for me. The owner J.J. stopped by our table, even though the place was packed with a wedding rehearsal (the couple had their first date here - awwww). I took notice of how many people "dressed" for dinner here, men stood waiting for tables in jackets!

We cut down another block on the return, where we met a black & white cat hanging around a small church cemetery. Gene commented that the street would be creepy after dark. The architecture here reminds us of the garden district of New Orleans, but there's more brick. As is customary for Gene and I on our first night of a trip, we were room-bound by 8 pm. We've decided we are party-poopers when left alone, which is maybe why we always travel with friends. I passed the offer of sherry in the study on the way to our room, but enjoyed the Godiva mint on the bed.

As I write this, couples appear and retreat from the porch where the breakfast looks to be a fruit salad with some sort of egg casserole. My coffee has been refreshed already by Linda and I think it's time to wake the sleeping beauty.