Werk

We had a very fancy event in Palm Beach. Went to beautiful places where even the dogs don’t drink tap water. A place where crazy sports cars are the norm and your morning workout is literally on the ocean. 



But there are other pics that tell another story… like this one. We were playing,”how many boxes can we fit into a sedan with 4 people and a driver?” The answer – all of them.


How about the fact that the majority of time at this fancy place we were in the back. This is my fav pic. Taken by one of the planners on our team. Thanks for the memory Patty.

Or this one which really is how we all feel onsite (girls don’t worry about how you look in this pic. No one reads this blog anyway).

Lots of memories for sure. 

Like when I tried to get a pic of Barron Trump playing soccer with the secret service and was kindly asked by another secret service dude to stop and delete all pics (I followed half his direction).


Or how about our Orthodox chef trying to take a fully blown-up pool flamingo back on the airport shuttle. I don’t know the end of that story.


Or our last night at the event by the ocean when almost every single person was singing and laughing and smiling – including our team. 

This was the view I had all last week


This is my view today. Guess which one I love more? Home is where the heart is. It’s also where my bed, tv and magazines are.


And this guy. 

You must have a really good camera

Ever notice that people usually say you have a nice camera when they see a photo they like? This cracks me up. Maybe it’s my incredibly talented eye. Or my amazing sense of lighting and mood? Hee hee.

Here are some photos taken with a camera phone, a Nikon, a Kodak disposable, and an old school Polaroid camera. Betcha you can’t figure out which is which is which. And really, who cares.

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A girl named coconut

I need to share some important personal truths with you…

  • I am obsessed – OBSESSED with people watching. You could drop me off in any major city on a corner and I’d be fine staring at people for hours.
  • My husband has called me coconut since the first week we met.  There is no cute story. No cute connection to the fruit. It’s very disappointing to people.  I’ll just always be coconut for no good reason.
  • I did not have these foods until I got to NYC:  sour cream, mustard, cream cheese, bagels, Chinese food, Brie, Cheddar, or any other type of cheese that wasn’t fake American cheese slices, mushrooms (ewww, wasn’t missing much), broccoli, any rice that wasn’t Basmati (Uncle who?).
  • I cannot ride a bike. Calm down.
  • I’ve never broken a bone – I was an “inside” kid.
  • I can swim but don’t love the pool (yes, even on hot days). I’d never swim in the ocean (I need to know there’s a bottom somewhere underneath me)
  • I just drank my first mudslide at 40 (not my thing yo)
  • You know all those reality shows you see advertised on TV and you shake your head and say,” who would watch that crap?”. That would be me. I would, could and do watch that crap.
  • I’ve never been on a date. Why? Because I wasn’t allowed to date growing up, and then I met my husband 2 seconds after I got to college and then I married him 5 minutes later. Thus! No dates.  Ok – one date.  I’ve been on one date.  A few years ago, I left my husband and kids at home, and met a dreamy, steamy man in NYC for a hot night out.  He was single at the time, now he’s engaged to the man of his dreams.  Usually when I’m with him he’s pointing at me – laughing.  But not that night.  Unlike the other men in my life (my husband and my then 3-year-old son) – he figured out the formula to make me happy:  Wine+Flat Bread.  And so we went from one joint to another.  He found every restaurant that served flatbread in NYC and we hit it hard.  No tofu veggie places. No vegan haunts. Not for me. Not that night.  It was lovely. After he dropped me off, he went out for his real night out.