Your Perfect Day

Just imagine for a moment your perfect day and how it would look. Mine would be shrouded in fog and rain with a good book, a long languorous bath, inviting smells from the kitchen, a roaring fire, a big bay window with a view and a kind and thoughtful cook who doubles as my paramour.

Tell us what makes your perfect day. Like Witt in the story we featured, it might be “skating a 9-foot perfect bowl” or as one of my dearest friend’s tells it “sipping an aperitif at the bar of the Plaza.” What’s your idea of perfection?


13 Responses to “Your Perfect Day”

  1. A perfect day starts oceanside, early enough to see whales migrating, early enough to beat the lifeguards so we can sneak our dog onto the sand. The day continues with huevos rancheros and coffee at a hilltop cafe … a drive without a specific destination … discovery of some place new … and then a martini and dinner to go with the sunset.

  2. The perfect day hmmmmmmmmmm……
    to submit a project surrounded by my friends, then celebrate that day with my family and to do something to my religion

  3. waking up to the fresh air coming through the window of my tuscan villa. outside the cypress trees move ever so gently. the smell of freshly baked bread beholds me. after a shower, i meet my friends and family for breakfast in the dining room where we begin our day with fresh fruit, cheese, bread and tea. while i go to the studio to paint in oil, the others decide to frolick in the nearest town to gather the day’s provisions… we meet later to see the frescoes of piero. am i in heaven?

    Indeed you are! Savor every moment.
    –the Errant Aesthete

  4. to wake up and find myself quarreling with Mr. Darcy. Ending with a long walk in which we make up.

    Lovely and blissful image to recreate endlessly.
    the errant aesthete

  5. A perfect day would be to wake up in a formerly strange apartment that has been made comforting and “homey” by trips to the local open air market, paintings by yourself and few prints by others, choice fabrics and artisan food.

    To wake up in a city that is still unfamiliar, a city that pulses with life and progress and culture…to know that though it is still foreign to you, you have sucessfully bolstered the confidence to reside and thrive in an environment that you didn’t grown up in.

    A perfect day would involve having the ability to tell yourself “you did it” in whatever language or colloquial jargon your are still learning.

    And of course, it would all be best spent being able to enjoy these times of growth and discovery with new found friends (over cocktails and tapas maybe).

  6. A perfect day would be in small outdoor cafe near the beach,sitting next to my friends and chat a little bit,share our thoughts and feelings to each other.That would make great day for all of us.

  7. A perfect day would be sunlight hitting my eyes through cracks of green Roman shutters, strong but not bitter coffee in a perfect thin white cup and a fresh flaky sfogliatella with chantilly cream. This decadence to be followed by a bike ride through the Borghese gardens and drinking anything with alcohol by the duck pond as it starts to rain. All the while wearing the perfect outfit for each moment – a victorian cotton batiste dress, a beautiful hat, red lipstick that never moves from the lip. My companion will be my tall handsome artist, moustachio’d and dashing. He makes me laugh and conjures up adventure after adventure…after which exhaustion sets in and we go back to bed where we are served the most perfectly prepared plate of pasta and a gorgeous red wine while we lie back and watch the wire projected onto the wall of our perfect room in Rome.

  8. My perfect day always ends at the old Intercontinental Hotel at Wailea, Mau’i. The rest of the day doesn’t really matter; it’s the ending that counts. We wonder down by the pool a little before sunset. A well laid table close to the pool looks welcoming. We sit mauka, facing the sea and order Mai Tais, they arrive well made with Myer’s floated on top, finished with a squeeze of lime.
    It is a beautiful afternoon, which sometimes happens in Hawaii. Scattered white clouds with lots of blue sky complement the deep blue sea; the temperature is approaching the ideal and there’s just enough breeze to sway the palm trees. This seems like a good place for dinner, and easier than finding a place in Kihe’i; on the spur of the moment we decide to dine here. The infinity pool seems to run straight into the ocean and from there to forever. The rolls are sweet and delicious.
    The entertainment begins: a singer and dancer in a floor-length muumuu, white with pink flowers, and a four man combo called the Wailuku Boys with a great slack-string guitarist. The singer dances the more traditional style hula, slow and dignified, and her hands repeat the stories she sings. The Ahi sashimi arrives. I use my chopsticks to mix some soy sauce with the wasabi. A bottle of Riesling is opened; it’s great with the Ahi.
    The sun is low in the sky, adding sparkle to the mist from the spouting of a distant humpback out in the Kealaikahiki Channel. Dinner arrives as the sun is setting. We have some more wine. The sunset is a pleasant surprise, painting the scattered clouds. As the sky darkens, we see that the no-longer-new, crescent moon, already in the west, will follow the sun soon. It is almost time to leave, to go back to our room overlooking the path that runs along the sea. We look at each other and say “it doesn’t get better than this,” but it does…

  9. A fabulous blog/site! In a word- intoxicating! Thank you..

  10. Perfect day? I’ve had a few. The births of my children. The day I finished my residency in Emergency Medicine. The day I first soloed a P-51 Mustang. All perfect to my way of thinking, but none as magical as my most recent perfect day. It was a rainy August day in Paris. I managed to find shelter in a back corner of Shakespeare and Company across the river from Notre Dame. I reread The Little Prince by Saint Exupery while it poured outside. I purchased a first edition copy of A Movable Feast as a gift for my middle son who like me has a passion for all things Hemingway. A stroll down the left bank and a late lunch at a sidewalk cafe that’s name at present escapes me. (Its impossible to have a bad meal in Paris so the name is not that important.) A boat ride east around the Ile de Saint Louis then west to the Eiffel Tower. A walk through the surrounding community. A lovely dinner with my wife and 3 adult children sharing the best 2 bottles of wine I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking. A moonlit walk all the way back to the Hotel De Saint Louis followed by an hour of earth moving sex with the only women I’ve ever loved. A beautiful day well lived and forever destined to be the standard by which all my remaining days will be judged.

  11. Mine would be the day when you star posting again….

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