I kiss better than I cook

By Georgie Bright Kunkel

Do you belong to one of those families who settle for the little motel with no class? Believe me, our family has been there. You drive up and right away notice the disreputable cars parked out front, some missing hubcaps and some with dents never repaired. You know that even if you asked to see the room that is available it will have the same sunken mattress and the same scarred furniture that you have been offered on the road before.

Now fast forward a few years. We have now arrived to a place of modest affluence. We can afford the vacation of our dreams displayed on the Web site as the resort with the log-cabin-look enhanced by plantings all along the walkways and with the health club including pool hidden in the woods. My daughter and I went for it.

When we arrived a little earlier than scheduled check-in we decided to walk the beach at the one hour during which the clouds parted displaying the pounding surf in all its foaming splendor. We could walk alongside the sandpipers and watch the gulls sailing in the distance. At last we returned to find our room not yet made up but it was not long before we were changing into our bathing suits for a dip in the pool and dressing for dinner.

Outside the restaurant windows were purple finches flitting about the feeders and entertaining the children sitting nearby, at least those that looked up long enough from their video games. The rose on each table emitted a scent which didn't quite mask the odor of fabric softener in the napkins. This resort hadn't kept up on the latest information that fabric softeners are toxic.

After my favorite dessert, chocolate mousse, I rather hesitated to enter our room that most certainly would have a fabric softener odor emanating from every pillow and sheet on the two queen beds. I didn't hesitate long enough. The rest of the night was spent sniffling and coughing until I finally got up and searched in the dim light for my muu-muu which I wrapped around the pillow to trap the chemical smell, at least until I could finish another hour or two of sleep.

The complimentary breakfast consisted of juice, toast or muffin and coffee which were not laid out on a serving table. Instead they were offered by the waiter who hoped if enough time elapsed between the serving of coffee and juice/toast we would consider ordering off the regular menu. As we ignored the full breakfast menu, the birds returned to the feeders outside the window to entertain us once again. Then it was checkout time and heading for home, stopping at thrift shops on the way. Even knowing that these shops contain donations which have resided in mildewed basements for years, I succumbed -browsing and finally picking out three old videos and two dessert stemware glass dishes which had once contained peanut butter in the days of my youth but are now collector's items.

Oh yes, and a refrigerator magnet on sale, benefit of the local hospital. It read, "I kiss better than I cook." That was for my husband who was once our chief cook but now I frantically run in from the kitchen during meal preparation and ask him how to fry fish or how to cook yams - that is, if our health aide who knows how to cook isn't on duty. But at night or any other time of the day I choose I give him a big kiss or two. Doesn't that qualify me for being a kisser of merit? My husband thinks so.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at 935-8663 or gnkunkel@comcast.net