I know new posts have been pretty sparse around here, but springtime here in the wilds of Northern Virginia (and when I say wilds I mean the Target parking lot on Saturday morning) speeds by at breakneck pace (or that might be how I drive to work every morning).

So aside from my regular duties protecting poor little corporate America from mean ole lawmakers and their big bully constituents, I’ve been busy ensuring that America’s youth understands that our national pastime is indeed a sport played outside and does not involve controllers and a big screen.

Of course, I’ve also been spreading beauty far and wide (What? My house is on the corner, I have to plant on two sides).

I’ve been sowing the seeds for a bountiful harvest (if you call a few salads and enough jalapeno peppers to start your own salsa company bountiful).

And well, the kids do need a rinsing off every once in a while.

I was taught that if I worked hard, tried to get along with folks and followed the rules that I would succeed.

At each stage in my life, I asked the authority figures why this plan didn’t seem to be working out the way they promised. I was always reassured that the folks who were seeming to get things easy wouldn’t always have it that way and it would work out better for me in the long run.

They said that in middle school.

They said that in high school.

They said that in college.

They said that when I entered the work force.

And now?

I just had the same exact conversation once again!

For crying out loud! I’m nearly 38.

I’m seriously thinking my time might be better spent focusing on looking hot before it will be too late to use that to my advantage.

(Sorry for the pity party today. I’m just tired of working in an industry where people who can’t find their way out of a paper bag make more money than I do and then hire me to tell them how to do their job.)

Not really.

But I could if I wanted pay for a spot on one of the boats here.

Working outside the home can be a real drag somedays. Pleasing picky clients, figuring out one more way to do the same thing another way, sitting in a meeting when you’d rather be chaperoning your kid’s class trip…these are just some of the downers, but then there are days like today…

Days when I am at a conference—here–in January. Or days like tomorrow when we have a free afternoon to do as we shop or sit on the beach please.

Don’t hate me for this small favor.

Two days off a week. I know I’m lucky to have two.

Hours of cleaning the house, and you’d barely know by the looks of it.

THIS is how I want to spend my days off??!

I’m not good at this cleaning thing. I’m not!

But you should see my dish cloth drawer!!! Very organized now.

Well Hi from Miami!

Hanging out in the Sunshine state for a business conference and wishing the sun would shine. It’s hard to complain when it’s forty degrees warmer here than home, but there’s no sun. False adverstising!!

Speaking of false advertising, don’t ever stay at the Miami Beach Resort and Spa. I was all excited about having four days at a swanky resort and well…I think they filmed Scarface at this hotel. I swear Al Pacino is going to come around the corner any minute. Remember metallic wallpaper? They love it here. Requested a king-sized bed, got two doubles–doubles! Don’t these people understand that I spend most of my bed time at home sleeping with at least one if not two or three other people? I was all about spreading out on a huge bed, hogging all the pillows. But no. Two flat pillows, a double bed (not queen mind you). My grandmother has mattresses that are newer than ones in my room. I sat down last night and was greeted with a lovely spring to the butt. Being here without my husband, I wasn’t expecting so much action.

Anyway, avoid this place. If you do have recommendations for fun places to see in Miami Beach, please send them my way. I have time to kill over the next few days. I might have to go fishing if nothing else (see below).

Hanging out with fun people on the trip. No bloggers in the group so they all think it’s a bit weird that I have a blog. The universal opinion seems to be that they don’t want to pry into someone’s personal diary. I tried to assure them that’s not what they would find. We’ll see if they check it out.

So for the record…Mamma Loves…

White Boy #1
The Other White Boy
BossLady
and last but certainly not least…
The Chinese Redneck.

Before I get any angry comments, the term “white boy” refers to their lack of tans and the Chinese Redneck gave herself that name. She loves to fish. Please do not mistake these for racial slurs. Racism is something Mamma Does NOT Love.