BloggingDangerously

Sibling Rivalry

Yesterday I looked out the kitchen window to see my 7 year old son in my 6 year old daughters face.  Just as I was about to intervene they nodded at each other and turned toward my 8yo son and 5yo daughter who lined up across from them.

Apparently what I'd seen was the huddle in the last 10 yard drive of this years Superbowl.

This was the play...

Apparently I am a Complete Sham

Last week in Miami I faced my fears... and ran away screaming like a girl.

The second night I spent in the city I went to the complimentary #wineparty that the hotel hosts every night from 5-6.  You'll be disappointed to know that I wore a bra AND pants. 

I'm not sure if it was the fact that the party was poorly attended or my overdressed status but I was incredibly self conscious.  It could also have been the fact that I wasn't drinking heavily enough.

That's always a problem.

I love the online #wineparty because if you suddenly find that you're self-conscious or need to take a break, it's perfectly acceptable to go silent for a bit and then reappear, FABULOUS.

At a real wineparty it's hard to hide the fact that you're drinking alone in a roomful of peopel you don't know.  Civilized? I call it barbaric really.

And then my friends showed up and we went to dinner and started pounding saki and things picked up immensely!

Then, to remind me of the poseur I apparently am I went out to dinner with 4 guys that I work with and one of them started talking about the time he went to China and got a massage and things went horribly awry when she wanted to give him a happy ending and all he wanted was a foot massage.

The tipsy guys in the car started talking about "toe-tugs" and I blushed right up to my eyebrows.

Then one of the guys started talking about porn and I started to feel much more at home and then he turned quickly to motor oil and I scarleted all over again.

Which I guess is just my way of telling you all that I am completely at home on my own blog and at my own #wineparty but when I venture out I am, apparently, not as cool as I think.

At least not with a bra on.

Miami in Pictures

Holy Shit Miami takes a lot out of you.

Seriously, as we were leaving the restaurant tonight at 10 there was a HUGE line of people waiting to get in.  How do these people have dinner at 11 and then get up for work tomorrow?  And if they DON'T go to work tomorrow, how do they have $68 to spend on a steak.

During dinner the lights went out.  The #occupy protesters were across the street.  If you wanted to target obscene gestures of opulence, knocking the lights out at Prime 112 is the way to go.

Also, I didn't pay for dinner.  I don't think I could have afforded my Diet Coke.

Dinner was great.  I work with fun people.  I'm very lucky to have the job I do and I'm thankful every day that I had the balls to quit my old job and take a new one that was both terrifying and AWESOME.

I've been taking photos for the past three days for this post - normally I completely forget to take pictures because I usually forget my camera.  The camera in the iphone 4s is so unbelieveable I feel like an ass for buying an expensive Canon SLR that is too big to schlep everywhere.

If you're trying to justify the iphone build in the camera to your calculation.

Without further ado... here is my week in Miami in Pictures...

This is the view from my hotel...

This is the view when I went running...

How do you enforce this?

These are  a couple of dinghys pulled up for lunch...

This is the view from my office...

This is the view from my hotel during their #wineparty. (It's lame compared to mine - if I do say so myself - and not just because I was wearing a bra...)

This is the view out the balcony of my room... 

This is my bed...  (My 4yo was VERY concerned about where I was sleeping so I took this for her)

#wineparty tonight.  I'll be back in Boston.  See you there.

Miami Vice

I'm in Miami for 3 days for a business trip and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled to be here.

First of all, it's 80 degrees.  Second, my room on the 22nd floor overlooks Biscayne Bay. 

I'll post photos for you tomorrow... today I'm going to tell you a story...

Tuesday night at Logan Airport I sat down in a corner of the terminal near the only available outlet.  While I settled in, I noticed a large hispanic family sitting beside me and, across from them, a guy with his baseball cap pulled low and his coat collar pulled up high.  The coat was not pulled up high enough, however, to hide the tattoo on his neck - an obviously amateur work of art that was indecipherable from 10 feet away.

He wore jeans that were a bit too long but were prevented from reaching the ground by workboots left untied.

I didn't pay him much attention until I noticed the Trooper.  In Massachusetts, the State Police are not called 'officers,' they are called Troopers.  The EASIEST way to assure yourself of a ticket on a State Highway is to say, "I'm sorry officer."  Your best hope at escaping a ticket? "I'm sorry Trooper."

The Troopers are FAMOUS at Logan Airport for their pverenthusiastic enforcement of the 'no standing' policy at curbside drop off and pickup.  You pretty much have to jump into and/or out of a moving vehicle to make your flight and avoid a lecture from the Trooper on duty.

But they rarely enter the terminal.

And so it was strange to see one walking through the terminal I was sitting in, nonchalantly looking everywhere except at "neck tattoo guy."

While I was puzzling at the Trooper's presence, a third man sat down beside tattoo-guy and said, "hey."

Tattoo-guy didn't even look at him and barely responded.

The newcomer wore an old Northface fleece, worn jeans and shoes that looked fancy but weren't.  He carried a vinal portfolio and opened it as if to show Tattoo guy some paperwork but Tattoo guy didn't even turn his head.

The cop (that's what I decided he was) started talking.  He spoke for a good 2-3 minutes waving the portfolio around.  Tattoo guy never moved, never turned his head but occassionally I could see him answer, "Yeah."

The whole time the Trooper stood by a stanchion and never moved and never appeared to look at them.

Finally, the cop and Tattoo guy got up and walked over to another gate that was empty.  The cop pulled out some papers, tattoo guy signed them and then the cop and the trooper nonchalantly walked away and tattoo guy went to get a burger from McDonald's.  He came back ten minutes later and boarded my flight to Miami with me.

So the question is this: Who was Tattoo guy, what did he have to sign and what's he doing in Miami?

Leave your guess in the comments... The more detailed the better.  Entertain us!

 

Sex Homework: When Life Hands You Lemons...

Yesterday was my husband's birthday.  To celebrate I flew to Miami and left him home with the kids - because I'm a great wife like that.

The trip was for work and THANK GOODNESS my husband isn't much for dates and anniversaries because I spent our 9th anniversary on a business trip to NY.

Romance is my middle name.

Not.

But what I lack in Ceremonial Sentimentality I make up for in every day effort.

What I mean by that is, YES, I flew to Miami on his birthday but I made sure to give him a birthday BOFF before I left.

And it wasn't easy.

I tried Monday night - a little after midnight nookie to start the year off right but APPARENTLY 42 year old men prefer sleep to sex - at least at midnight.

And then this morning it was OBVIOUS that he was going to prefer sleeping in to christening the new year.  And when I saw OBVIOUS, I mean that the snoring sort of gave it away.

No worries, we made a plan to rendezvous in the bedroom after I'd packed and after he'd dropped the 4yo off at preschool.  That gave us 3 hours to ourselves - which is about 2 hours and 55 minutes longer than we'd need if history was any indication.

I was wrapping up some stuff at work when the phone rang...

"Hello." I said.

"Oh hello!" she said, "This is the school nurse.  Your son is waging an epic battle for dominance of the herd and your husband doesn't stand a chance. is complaining of a tummy ache." she said.

"Ok," I told her.  "I'll have my husband come get him."

As soon as they walked in the door my husband gave me a look that said, "Well that takes care of that!"

But I love him for his sticktoitiveness and a few minutes later he gave my son a glass of water and a tums and sent him to bed.

I wasn't wholly comfortable with the thought of having sex in our bed with him just down the hall and awake so I brought my husband into our Master Bathroom.  I figured that put at least THREE doors and a few walls between us and the kiddo and if I could manage to be quiet (doubtful) we might just get away with it.

WHOA - we have  A LOT of mirrors in the bathroom.  And a stool so the kids can brush their teeth.  And of course, the throne.

So there was sitting and straddling and standing on a step and MIRRORS everywhere and I managed not to scream and/or fall.

AND my husband had a Happy Birthday smile on for the rest of the day.

So what I'm saying is that I get that it's hard to find the time/opportunity and I get that you're not always in the mood when the opportunity presents itself.  And I get that plans change and you are not a lightswitch BUT I read an article today that says that MARRIED women age 18-49 have sex an average of 1-3 times/MONTH.

And it's my personal goal to help raise that number - both through my own actions - and by inspiring others.  So get out there and do it.

(Hey, I know it's not world peace but it'll put smiles on a lot of faces.)

And P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my wonderful husband.  I LOVE you.