I’m sitting here at BWI at 6 am. Been up since 4:30. It sure is quiet here because evidently most normal people don’t wake up this early.

But I’m heading to a meeting in Kentucky to present a report I’ve worked on for what seems like years ( but really is only a month or so.)

But I think I’ve found the answer.

I read all those productivity blogs and management rags. But here it is right in front of me.

The answer to greater productivity.

Sleep less.

Yes, you can have it all.

Well. All except rest and a perky demeanor.

My little bucket-head is double-digits. Yup, he’s 10 years old.

Hard to believe.

Thank goodness he still loves to cuddle. Otherwise, I might have to get a puppy.

I think I have a problem. I can’t turn it off. Or maybe I just won’t.

I’m on a train on the way home from New York - just pulling away from the Metropark Station.

And I’m blogging. And listening to This American Life. And checking my email intermittently.

Crazy.

But I’m really happy because I love these things and when I get home to the boys I’m going to want to be with them & not be distracted by technology.

But I digress.

New York fascinates me. I love watching people and there were so many people to watch. I mean so, so many. Which leads me to one of the things I hate about New York.

The crowds.

I abhor crowds.

And traffic and being in a taxi driven by a normal enough looking guy who was clearly being channeled by Evel Knevel.

I detest the smell of the subway entrance.

And yet. It’s one of the most amazing places in the world.

Times Square at night is an awesome sight. The food is beyond. We had dinner last night at Olana & it ranks among the best I’ve ever had. Taboon on Friday night was delicious for apps. We had dinner later at Aroma.

We stayed in an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. Very different than in Sleepers. We walked and talked an laughed.

And shopped. (got a work outfit and a nice outfit)

And all in less than 48 hours.

Loved it.

But can’t wait to get home to what I love the most - being with Andrew and the boys.

The view from our window.

Washington Square Park is closed and under construction. But still, there are guys by the chess tables at night calling out in a loud whisper, “Moke, moke.” Good to know the construction hasn’t dampened business.

Subway signs at 50th Street.

Aroma Restaurant - East 4th near Bowery. We ate in the wine cellar. It was very cool - literally and figuratively.

Another view from our place.

Bleachers set up for the upcoming T-Day parade.

These are in the backseat of the taxis. Very cool - Zagat’s, maps, more.

Breakfast at Sarabeth’s - delish!

Olana was really pretty…

We didn’t get to the show (they don’t film on weekends anyway) but we did walk past the building in Hell’s Kitchen. Couldn’t pass up the photo op.

Grand Central Station by dusk.

And martinis by dark.

Basketball season. Sigh. I have a love/hate relationship with the boys’ basketball season.

Do I love that they are learning new skills, improving their games, learning to work better with a team? Well of course I do. What kind of mother would I be if…. forget that. Let’s move on.

Do I love going out in the pitch black, cold of night to take them to practice on the other side of the county? Not so much. Or juggling the game schedule with our already busy lives? Well?

But all that aside, I absolutely kvell when I see my babies running and dribbling with red faces and sweaty shirts and that intense look of effort and competitiveness. Crazy?

I don’t know. I think it’s good to want to be better. To want to win. To play hard as you can. To try. that’s what it is. I love seeing them TRY. So. Damn. Hard.

My guys have a pretty cushy life. They do their homework, classwork, and the like. They have chores around the house (more than most, I think) but still, it is hardly a prison sentence. They have lots of creature comforts, a loving home, gourmet meals (thanks to Andrew).

So watching them work hard for something is really nice. I want them to grow into the kind of men that work hard for what they want while maintaining the appropriate behavior and respect of those around them.

Kind of like basketball.

I have a story about my garage. Thought I’d find a nice little quote or something about a garage and then go straight into the tale du jour.

And I found this Weezer song.

And I got all distracted. But I’m okay now.

Oh wait! Should’ve just done this one!

Okay, seriously. I’m back.

My BFF was in town for several days. We had great meals, shopped, drove to DC, back, to Baltimore, back, to DC, back, to Baltimore, back. I am not kidding.

We talked and talked. Hung out. And then this morning, I happened to mention that Andrew wanted the garage clean and I so did not want to deal with it. And that’s when she said,

“I’ll help you. Let’s do it now.”

Okay, I should mention that she actually likes to do that stuff. Her garage is a work of art and every drawer and cabinet and closet in her house is enviable.

But how could I possible accept an offer to delve into my worst organizational nightmare? On her vacation? So I did what any decent friend would do.

I changed into sweats and sneakers.

It was amazing. She directed (ordered?) and I obeyed. We emptied the entire garage. Every shelf, every can, every tool. She washed the floor with Mr. Clean (okay, have you ever, I mean ever, washed your garage floor???). And then, we put everything back in.

By category. By shelf. In containers. Marked.

And we threw some stuff out. Not that much, but some.

We hung the bikes up and….

Voila.

A beautiful, clean garage.

And it’s mine. All mine. Bwah ahahaha.

Sorry, lost my self for a second there.

I’m grateful for the help. And even more grateful for the time together. It’s never enough, but it’s always great.

I’m feeling guilty
Writing seems overwhelming
One more day to chill

Okay, okay, don’t be sophomoric. Of course you know the rhyme.

But seriously. I’m waiting for my friend to arrive in town. Her flight is delayed until….

1:07???

Are you kidding me?

Do you really think I can stay up until 1-fricking-thirty in the morning? I’ve been up since 5 am! Yikes.

So she’ll take a cab.

We’ll leave the light on. (hee hee - it’s like Motel 6.)

If all goes well, she’ll be here when I wake up.

I hope!

He looks like a nice guy, no?

Well, I’m here to tell you that is not so. This is Cyrus.

And while he may be the best personal trainer around, I was not excited to see him this morning at o-dark-thirty.

Would you have been? I mean, seriously.

Top it off with a wicked hard workout.

Arghh.

I got a joke from Oscar today and had to share.

A man is dining in a fancy restaurant and there is a gorgeous redhead sitting at the next table.
He has been checking her out since he sat down, but lacks the nerve to talk with her.

Suddenly she sneezes, and her glass eye comes flying out of its socket toward the man.

He reflexively reaches out, grabs it out of the air, and hands it back.

‘Oh my, I am so sorry,’ the woman says as she pops her eye back in place.

‘Let me buy your dinner to make it up to you,’ she says.

They enjoy a wonderful dinner together, and afterwards they go to the theatre followed by drinks.

They talk, they laugh, she shares her deepest dreams and he shares his.

She listens.

After paying for everything, she asks him if he would like to come to her place for a nightcap and stay for breakfast.

They had a wonderful, wonderful time.

The next morning, she cooks a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. The guy is amazed.

Everything had been SO incredible!
‘You know,’ he said, ‘you are the perfect woman. Are you this nice to every guy you meet?’

‘No,’ she replies. . .

Wait for it. .

It’s coming…

The suspense is killing you, isn’t it?

She says:

‘Well You just happened to catch my eye.’