Wanted to head to Miami to see Collective Soul and Goo Goo Dolls at Bayside last night.
Alas, you plan and God laughs.
Ended up heading up to Stuart, Hutchinson Island (Bathtub Beach) and Port St. Lucie for brunch, beach and a cupcake.
I think I did ok. After all, the beauty of living in paradise is that you don’t have to leave it to feel like you’re escaping the world.
Had grand plans to be at one of the southernmost Hyatts or a DoubleTree at the end of America by now.
But Kadie thinks she’s her deceased big sister, as she took a shit in her food dish and wiped her ass on the baseboard. So, no clean hotels for you, cat.
So, I’m getting my drank on — just down the street from the office.
It appears someone stole a package I had delivered there. Reason No. 437,000 the place can burn down.
I thought I’d have a hard time separating myself from work. I do check emails and texts because I’m not an asshole.
But after 15 years without a vacation, and in roles where you must jump immediately when summoned, it was pretty easy to detach.
In fact, after my brunch tour of palm beach, I’m going to have a hard time re-assimilating.
Quick, someone marry me and knock me up so I can work from home like everyone else …
It’s hard to unplug fully. I turned off Facebook notifications and I make it a point not to look at my phone when I know meeting reminders will pop up. But I did promise someone to help them with a project, which means being attuned to email. I keep waiting for this (late as usual) project to arrive so I can know how many vacation hours to charge for.
Took Mom to Jimbo’s Sand Bar in Dania Beach yesterday. I have driven there several times but could never find a parking space. Yesterday Stewie was the only car in the lot. It was glorious.
The Bloody Marys were awful. But the seafood platter (shrimp, scallops and mahi) was very good. I also got the panko-crusted Brie appetizer. Not bad at all. I would definitely go there again. On a weekday.
It ended up being a gorgeous day. Sunny and hot. The storm passed over us and drenched the Gulf. Unfortunately it looks set to hook back around and nail us before wiping out the Outer Banks.
Another place I need to see.
There’s this panic in me now here on Day 2, that what if I never get another day off again? I mean, I should have driven to Tampa or Daytona or Destin and seen the places I’ve always wanted to see that I can’t just cram into one measly weekend.
I even suggested Savannah to mom and she laughed at me. And reminded me that my car is barely built to beat around Delray Beach. Le sigh.
Here I am finally with time, and I’m hanging out in Fort Lauderdale. WTF, right?
Well it isn’t ALL bad …
Today I’m thinking Jupiter. Which I have honestly not set foot in since DA and I went our separate ways. Working up there pretty much ruined it for me anyway; he was my last remaining tie.
Speaking of DA, I finally figured out what screwed him up. It was something I always suspected, but I got all the evidence I needed on his birthday earlier this month.
I wish I could tell him I get it now. That I would have understood if he hadn’t lied to me about it. That I would have loved his dumb ass anyway.
Today doesn’t look so sunny. I have my Coppertone on anyway. My one promise to myself was to get a tan this week. My arms are nice and bronze. But my legs are about six shades lighter and I’d like to remedy that somehow.
I still haven’t ruled out a trip to the Keys. Finances say sit your pudgy pork roast butt home, girl. But the absolute terror of not getting another day off is telling me to break the bank and do what my heart is telling me to do.
As for what the rest of me is saying to do, it’s sleep. I’m purposely not getting out of bed till after the time of day I normally dread the most.
Speaking of anyway, it’s raining and I’m thinking a matinee might be a nice way to spend the day. Yes, I think that’s definitely going to happen. If I could just get out of this bed first …
Welp. Missing a concert in WPB tonight. At least I didn’t lose $100 like I did when I missed PostSecret at the Kravis Center.
Maybe a little Californication will make it better.
So what if I lost some pounds. The past four weeks have been hell.
Between interrupted sleep and a return to the 70-hour workweek, which still isn’t enough hours, my anxiety has anxiety.
I remember when the last place let me go. It was weird to suddenly have all those hours back.
I mean, I hadn’t wanted all of them back. Maybe just 10 or 12 or so. And all that really happened was one anxiety (endless to-dos) was replaced by another (ending income).
I didn’t really enjoy that shining moment though when the first set of problems were no longer mine. I really should have.
Last night I was so stressed, I walked around the corner to my favorite cantina. Two margaritas later (pounded in less than 10 minutes), I felt almost human again.
This is why I’m fat. Stress and booze. Here’s to being able to afford booze because a carrot just wasn’t going to cut it after this week’s two-day fun-fest …
It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Every time I get to my current weight, I blow it.
On Saturday I even managed to get to my “first month in Florida” weight. My lowest in seven years. And probably the lowest in 20 years if you want to get technical.
So Naturally today I sabotaged myself just a tad after a healthy breakfast and lunch.
It was tasty as hell. Organic wine and organic pizza.
But I feel like a stuffed piggy with a curly little tail.
I guess now is the point where I start to put back on the 30 pounds I’ve gained and lost every year for the past seven years.
But first, I have to go back for prosciutto and arugula pizza.
And wine. Definitely more wine.
Mom asked if she could send my boss a thank-you card.
She doesn’t understand the concept of vacation days. That how few I’ve taken. But now she sees how much fun we could have had with all that lost time every year.
She is sincere with the thank-you. She really enjoyed having some relaxing days. She didn’t even mind being cooped up in the hotel the one day I did work.
She’s sickly but pushed herself beyond her limits to walk Disney Springs, Epcot and various stores and restaurants and attractions.
I wanted to stay one more night. Grace Potter was playing at the HOB yesterday. But alas, we’d done and spent enough.
Of course, if this is her last trip — which she’s said more than once that she fears — I should have given it to her.
But like most things in life, we decided to get out while the getting was still good.
And save our pennies to return at Christmas.
Just a few of many good memories we sure wouldn’t have had without two vacation days and one work-from-hotel day. ….
I believe in dressing for the job you want. Since it’s usually not the one you have
Yesterday I did the designer suit thing. It wasn’t Jones but it was DKNY. On clearance, natch.
But still. Dressing for a seven-figure paycheck that doesn’t include two or more decimal places.
Today it’s dressing as a freelance writer. Because, who has time for pulling it together?
The problem with dressing down is having a computer that’s dressing for the trash heap. So if you need to find alternate options for hardware and/or Internet — and/or walking down to the tracks and throwing your PC on them — you’re screwed because people are gonna see/smell you.
So I got to hang with Bill Clinton yesterday.
Omg wow.
I last saw him in 1992 in Market Square in Pittsburgh. Pre-cell phone cameras. Before I voted for him twice.
I’ve been to Hillary events in D.C. Never got close to her. But that’s ok. I voted for her once and I will damn sure do it again. And again.
And how mind-blowing to go to a Hillary event in Palm Beach and be in the third row to watch her husband speak?
He’s still magnetic. Still makes eye contact with absolutely everyone. Still knows how to hit you in the feels — which he did before that phrase was even a thing.
I have a million photos. Which I will share in time. I got a lot of other local politicians too so I want to make a little yearbook entry, if you will.
But what I need to write about is this.
I had to police my Facebook comments all day on the few photos I put up.
I made my photos public. So I shouldn’t be surprised to get anti-Hillary sentiments from people I’ve never met or even friended.
I was surprised that more people didn’t like my pics of a former U.S. president. Shocked, really.
I get that you’re not fans of prosperity and the era of the balanced budget. Whatever dudes.
Sadly, I get three times as many likes on a sunset or a picture of a hot dog.
But the tiny handful of comments that were not fabulous and actually critical of not just people I support but the FORMER FIRST FAMILY, PEOPLE … Cheesus.
I ain’t the Bushes’ biggest fan, true. But I would shake their hands if I could. That would be pretty historic and I’d want to show grace. Because, that’s the right (and cool) thing to do.
I mean, politics is my passion. What I do all day is interesting. But damn this is MY Super Bowl.
And if you’re going to vote for the political equivalent of the New England Patriots, I’m terribly sorry you haven’t reached my enlightenment but kindly don’t shit on it.
I got to hang with Bill Clinton, yo. Respect.
Tired but happy after standing for SIX HOURS. #imwithher
My breakfast at home from mom … 
(I love my NYC mug and Chicago coasters.)
And then I took mom to Texas Roadhouse, where they gave us heart-shaped chicken.
Her dish was prettier than mine. You wouldn’t catch me eating a potato that isn’t a sweet potato.
So now that the holiday has been celebrated sufficiently, let’s get some sleep. Since Fuckhead McGillicuddy had me awake till 7:30 a.m. And I slept till 8 a.m when my cat wanted food.
A half-hour of sleep. Yay. Maybe tonight will be better. So far though, Kadie is the only one down for the count. I’m hoping the GOP debate will help me sleep through Fuckhead tonight.
