Mr. Rip and I just returned from a Castle Escape Romance weekend getaway at the Buhl Mansion in Sharon, PA. Did this ever live up to its name! We stayed in a castle, we escaped from our daily routines for 48 glorious hours, and it was very romantic. In fact, I am so relaxed after this experience, I almost forgot to write this blog.
So right there sitting just outside the Sharon, PA business district sits this majestic mansion which was once owned by the Buhl family. In a stroke of re-use genius, the Winner family bought the place and turned it into the fanciest Bed and Breakfast you've ever seen, complete with a full service spa in the basement.
Upon arriving before we even checked into our room, we were escorted to the spa, where a team of enthusiastic staff members were waiting for us. They offered us champagne and mimosas or water infused with cucumbers and lemon, and showed us where the sauna, steam room and monsoon showers were.
Then they did our facials. I swear, my face was practically dancing with pleasure during this procedure. Mr. Rip reminded me that we had facials on our honeymoon more than a decade ago, but I obviously forgot the feeling. While my first thought was that a facial would be a great way to start every single day, I realized that would just be crazy. However, a weekly facial has now been added to my list of things I'd do if I ever won the lottery.
This was followed by my first-ever manicure. I simply don't do my nails, mostly because it takes approximately 61/2 days for the nail polish to dry enough to resume everyday activities. This turned out to be true even when in the hands of a professional, who told me that this was often the case with good strong healthy nails like mine. All I know is when I showed Mr. Rip where the polish smudged on my middle finger, it looked like I was making an obscene gesture.
The staff was as attentive in the rest of the house as they were in the spa. They parked the car, brought the luggage up to the room, performed a turn-down service on the bed when you were out for dinner, and put a newspaper under your door every morning. They basically attended to your every need. Each of the 10 guest rooms was spacious, and equipped with jacuzzi tubs and other amenities like a working gas fireplace in ours.
On the second day, we had our massages. Peggy, my masseuse and new best friend, found every trouble spot on my troubled back, and worked on those spots without ever insulting my back by calling it a "mess" or a "disaster." I'm actually hiring Peggy as my personal masseuse with my future imaginary lottery winnings.
In the afternoon, there was a wedding taking place on the grounds. I love weddings. I decided to go down and hang out to watch the ceremony from just enough of a distance that I wouldn't be accused of actually crashing the wedding. I met and had a nice visit with Steve, the former mayor of nearby Mercer, who was performing the wedding and who had a little time on his hands while they were waiting for the groom's daughters to arrive (which they finally did, 30 minutes late). I left before the ceremony was over to lessen the impression that I was stalking a stranger's wedding.
I didn't mention the food yet, but there was breakfast every morning, lunch the second day, a tea service and champagne reception every afternoon, and a welcome basket of fruit, cheese and champagne in the room that they replenished daily. They were constantly trying to give us champagne, most of which was complimentary. We made the mistake of making dinner reservations the second night, and they overfed us as well. The simple fact is that I can't eat the way I used to, and I'm still trying to digest all that food.
On Sunday we headed home for our own little "castle" in Franklin Park. We had an extra day off for what Mr. Rip called a "staycation" but I might have called "errands." We needed to pick up a few things like groceries and nail polish remover.
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