*EDITED - I've had comments on this post, but they are not coming through to Blogger. Is anyone else having the same problem?
I can hear New York, in the middle of the night. It hums, beckoning me over. My soul can sense the vibe and see the streets already. It's pretty outrageous that we are going. I can't believe we are going. I have been planning this for a year now. At first it was so cool and amazing, lately it's just terrifying.
All of our tickets and flights and hotels are paid for. (Insert maniacal nailbiting here.) I have been reading up on things to do .... the Guggenheim, Chrysler Building, hear gospel singing in a Harlem Choir, Central Park. Eat a street pretzel. Get the ferry. See a Broadway show. Have sexy love time with my husband without saying, "Was that Rocco? Is he coming in? Quick hurry up. Don't worry about me, just finish."
Neither Dave or I travelled in our twenties. Too busy making sandcastles out of shifting sands. He has never even been to the US. I can not WAIT to see Dave Riley's reaction to America.
We are leaving the boys behind and flying halfway across the world by ourselves, because we are selfish like that. Some people can not BELIEVE we are taking a trip by ourselves. They don't agree - I don't blame them, I'm not even sure if I agree. But by God I need a break. I am stale and stagnant and stressed out. Dave is worse.
I totally stuffed up with the hotel reservations. When I originally made the booking I was so giddy that Dave was in remission that I agreed with the first recommendation the travel agent suggested. Put a deposit down, and THEN did my own looking online. I asked for a refund but they said no. I begged - they felt so bad that they upgraded our hotel. It's right near Times Square now. The photo up the top of this post? A bar in our new schwanky hotel. I showed it to Dave and told him that one night, I want to sit on that couch all dressed up, and get our photo taken. We will. Then we will probably have to tip the waiter for taking the photo? Tipping is big there, right?
Dave's mother is coming here for the first week, then my mother and stepfather will come for the remainder. The boys will stay in their own environment, still go to school and daycare. I will miss them beyond belief, and every time I see a child over there my heartstrings will tug. I need to miss them.
We fly back to Australia after NY, then fly back out to Bali and stay in a luxury villa for five nights. With our own private pool and chef. I'm pretty sure they wipe our bums too.
Every year I have read about BlogHer. Last year I thought man, I really want to go. When I found out it was in NYC I HAD to go. So I decided to go. Saved up. And now we are going. Who knew you could do such things? Not I, not at all.
Any person who says they have no regrets in life is either a liar or just boring as hell. I deeply regret wasting my twenties. I wish I had travelled, by myself after I finished school. Before I had children. I never really "lived" before I settled down. Settling down was not even a conscious choice for me, it just kind of happened.
Going to New York is a life-long dream. I have heard it is like its own country. I'm expecting to be blown away, inspired, my creativity renewed. I get to meet some wonderful friends - I have never met another blogger. Do you really exist? Maybe you are just one person who has created the world's biggest hoax, dripping hotsauce on your keyboard in Peru?
I get to have a second honeymoon with my husband. The one who didn't die. We keep patting each others fat tummies and armflab, cocking our heads to one side. "Hon! Winter fat! Tsk tsk!" I'm contemplating getting a spray tan, for the first time in my life ..... if you're going to BlogHer, just look for the tall red-haired oompa loompa.
Watch out, America. The Riley's are coming to steal your summer, eat all your chocolate, and bitch about your crap coffee.