So, you know I’m going to NY in July, right? It’s been planned for quite some time. I went online to buy my tickets today and I called the car service to take us to and from the airport. The kids and I are going, Jim has to work. So anyway, I’m adding up the whole thing… $525 for the tickets, $140 each way for the car service, $300 for the car rental and here’s the thing. I have to leave at sparrow fart in the morning, for a noon flight departing and I have to take a noon flight out of NY in order to make it into Orlando by the time the last shuttle leaves (6:30). This just isn’t working for me, you know? I mean, first of all I am NOT a morning person, second of all, I hate schedules. I need a little flexibility in my life, don’t you?

So I’m scratching my head and really trying to brainstorm a better solution. Amtrak! I never thought of that! So, I call Amtrak and it’s $730 EACH WAY! Are they insane? There isn’t a chance in hell!

So guess what! C’mon, you can guess can’t you? That’s right, you’ve got it. I’m DRIVING!!!! Me, two kids and my zippy little Aerio – did I mention that Jim and I traded cars? I figure even if I stop and stay in a hotel for two nights, I’m way ahead of the game financially and it’s nothing but flexibility.

Am I crazy? Yeah, probably, but I think this will be fun!
First rule? No one is ever allowed to say “Are we there yet?” in my car.
Pray for me, mmmk?

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Seen at Christine’s

That really does fit…

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My favorite. But then again, if you know my Olivier obsession, you’re not surprised.

For those who want to start at the beginning.

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Nine years ago, almost to the minute, I was lying on a hospital bed being prepped for a labor induction. It was long, long hard day. We got there at 6:30 am as directed and sat around till 11 waiting for the doctor. Six bags of pitocin, the crochet hook to break my water and a horror story that included an intern trying to administer the epidural made it a very long, painful day.

That being said, it was the most important and beautiful day of my life. At 10:57 p.m., my son came screaming into this world. 8lbs. 4 oz of wriggly, squirmy, pink sweetness. Today he is 9 and I just can’t believe it!

So Happy Birthday to my beautiful, sweet, lovely boy!

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Have you seen the Victoria’s Secret commercial yet? The one with Bob Dylan?
What the hell were they thinking? He’s what? 60? She’s um, this side of 15?
It’s disturbing on so many levels. And I hardly think the Victoria’s Secret crowd is the right demographic for Dylan.

What were they thinking?

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