RIP, RPM and Rahm

I cannot believe Robin Williams is dead. Heartbreaking. The first thing I did when I found out was text my husband. Not just to share the sad news, but to gloat that I knew before him.
For those of you who are in normal, healthy relationships, this is weird. How dare we compete with such a sensitive thing.
But those of you that are in similar, weirdo marriages – I won!! I won!! I beat the guy that’s told me about all the major deaths in recent news, including Mandela and Phillip Seymore Hoffman. Do you know how many times I’ve heard,”guess who died?”. I think Robin would have appreciated that.
I won!
Ok. Sorry. Back to being super sad.
I got the news in Chicago where I’m making a quick visit to a conference. We had a free night and decided to go to Juliana and Bill Ranci’s new place – RPM. You can throw a dart at this menu below and we probably ordered it. Mama Depandi would be proud. If you know who that is then you watch as much reality TV as me.
Finally- I can’t mention Chicago and not mention Rahm Emanuel. Sigh. I’d move to Chicago just to share the air.
I’ve talked about him before. I bet he doesn’t compete with his wife about announcing dead people.
So RIP Robin, thanks for the calories RPM, and till we not meet again Rahm.

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Ernie Banks Moment

Next week is the first big conference at my new job. And since we are the event and conference group, it’s my team that runs it all. We get the credit or the blame – whichever way it goes. Most of the team is seasoned and has done multi day events before, but it’s the first time at the event for the new CEO. So everyone is nervous. We had our first big walk through yesterday and it went amazingly well. The team is buttoned up and ready – but they are still panicked that they’ll miss something. So I shared my favorite “I think I missed something” story (have I already shared this? If yes, sorry, go surf the internet and come back tomorrow).
Years ago I was doing my first big event in a new job, for two very – ahem – challenging bosses. The event was an interview with Chicago Cubs Hall of Famer, Ernie Banks. The event was in mid-February in downtown Chicago. Already fun right? For months I stressed about the venue, the weather, the staging, and whether anyone would actually show up to this thing. Did I mention it was crazy expensive? It was. I found the right interviewer for Ernie. I made sure we were taping it so we could use it again for something – look at me being cost effective! No stone was left uncovered!
Cut to the morning of the event.
I had flown in with one of my bosses the night before and had a nice, passive aggressive dinner where she reminded me how important it was that I don’t mess up.
Gulp. Yummy.
The next day, I woke up at 5am – even though we weren’t setting up until 1pm – in a cold, hard sweat with one thought:
I never invited Ernie Banks to the Ernie Banks event!!!!!!!!! Omg!!! WTF??!!
I had visions of how it would go down.
Instead of facing the humiliation, I would just head to the airport and go home.
There were other jobs, I thought.
How could I have forgotten to invite him?
But of course I did.
Ernie was all set to go.
But I was so freaked that I actually called his house at 6:30…I forced myself not to call at 5:30. His housekeeper picked up and I pretended to be his car service and asked,” is a 6pm pick-up ok for Ernie tonight?” She said he was all set and hung up.
Real story.
Please note that this didn’t happen in my first few years as a planner. I was a so-called professional at that point.
Every planner has an Ernie Banks story, it’s part of the job.
Moral of the story – you invited Ernie Banks. Everything is ok.

Hotel Room Views aka My Travel Album

I’ve been an event planner for a long time.  For the majority of that time I’ve worked for large mothership corporations that have sent me traveling all over the country (and beyond).   Now that my kids are older, they always ask if I’ve seen the sites of whatever state (mental/physical, take your pick) I just got back from.

Kids:  “*Mommy, did you go to the Hollywood Sign?”

Me: “nope”

Kids: “Mommy, did you go to the Alamo? Ride a trolley?”

Me: “umm no and no”

So I started taking pictures of the parts of the city I do get to see – from my room

Crack-O-Dawn, Santa Monica, CA

(this is as close as I got to the beach)

Crack-O-Dawn, Chicago, IL

(this is as close as I got to Lake Michigan)

You get the point.

*PLEAE NOTE: My kids want you to know that they don’t call me Mommy anymore…but since it’s my blog…Mommy Mommy Mommy!!