Miami Twice Vintage
Yesterday I took a little mini-excursion into a shop I'd not been to in over ten years (since I moved away), Miami Twice. I would go there when I was in high-school and just get all googly eyed over all of their antiques and retro pieces. Yes, I was into vintage when it wasn't a cool or hip thing. It was so great to go back and find the store still carried all the fun stuff. I could literally spend the entire day-but since I had the little guy with me, that wasn't feasable.While there I fell in love with this green 1950's number-went and tried it on only to find that the zipper wouldn't go past my rib cage. I wanted to cry because it was actually really affordable at under $50. The second dress I tried on was so cute, and totally me too. It was a magenta polka-dot number that I just may have to go back and get! 
I think, if I could I would probably fill my entire wardrobe from the pages of Vogue magazine of years past (mixed in with some contemporary pieces too of course!)
Whimsy Me
I woke up with a sense of whimsy.Whimsy as defined by dictionary.com is the quality or state of being whimsical or fanciful.Yep. I'm feeling whimsical; much like I did when I would play dress up in my mother's heels or hide and seek among the coral rock of Wainwright Park. A park that was magical through my little girl eyes. A place where my grandmother would take me almost daily on our afternoon walks when I was a gaped tooth little freckle-face.I would imagine I was on a great safari on walks through the "jungle" or an archeologist climbing to her next great discovery as I scaled the greatest coral mountain ever to be discovered.Imagination is important. It is important for me to foster a love for the imaginary, for the magic that can only be found in make-believe in my boys. I think I'll build a den out of sheets today (it's bed linen washing day after all) and play with my boys. I'll start us off on some adventure and hand the reins over to Michael and let him take us to places only his imagination can think up. I think I'll start us off skateboarding in space or riding a roller coaster into the ocean.
Clerk Asks Where I'm from?
Has this ever happened to you? You walk into a salon, party, or other populated place to hear people speaking a language other than English. You quickly realize that they're saying something about you... and that they don't realize you speak the same freakin' language!Growing up in Miami, this happened to me A LOT! Thankfully I never really listened in on negative things, they were usually complimentary referring to my physical appearance... but it happens.People never believe me when they learn of my Hispanic heritage... I guess its because I don't look like the stereotypical Hispanic person. However living in my small town (I call it small because we don't have a Marshalls or a mall worthy of the word) I guess they don't get many people with "accents"-never mind half the people here sound delightfully like someone out of Gone With the Wind. So when I was recently asked what country I was from because of my "accent", I simply could not-not-share...The conversation went something like this...Store clerk: "Wow, that's quite a different accent you have there."Me: Thinking, I have an accent. Really? Hmph. "Huh?"Store clerk: "What country are you from?"Me: Trying not to smile, "The United States of America."Store clerk: "Yes, I know this is the USA, but what country are you from?"Me: "I was born in Florida, which last time I checked was a state recognized by the union otherwise known as The United States of America."Store clerk: Oh, O.K. dear, what country did you grown up in?Me: Miami.
Miami or Bust - Road Tripping
We've been in Miami for nearly a week now. I mentioned that I would be blogging about our road trip down while I was visiting, but I haven't had the time. We've been pulled in every direction by a family wanting to see us, and we haven't really been able to have much "fun." I've said a million times that we've stopped taking our vacations in Miami because they never really are vacations. Our road trip down was LONG. Twenty-two hours long, to be exact. We knew it would be longer with the baby this time, but nearly twenty-four hours on the road was something we weren't expecting. Prince Charming surprised me with another Christmas gift, a Garmin GPS; it made the trip stress-free as far as directions were concerned. (I've wanted one of those for nearly an eon, as I am the type of person who spends her life getting lost.)
We also spent much of the trip hungry. We left Christmas Eve and should have realized that most restaurants would be closed on Christmas. I'd planned on stopping at Walmart to get some snacks, but we have yet to do. I encountered this water tower thing during our failed McDonald's runs.
Mo loves to point them out, and this one was like one I've never seen before. Luckily, Mo and Copper slept through much of the trip (a blessing I wasn't expecting from our little guy). However, sometime around 11pm on Christmas Eve, we had to stop to get a snack - Somewhere in North Carolina, a gas station provided sunflower seeds, chips, and Gatorade; by eight o'clock the following day, Mo was hungry, and so were the Prince and I. We stopped at seven different Mcdonalds', but we found them all closed.
Finally, somewhere in Georgia, we found a Waffle House open. I ordered us huge breakfasts to go, and we ate the heart attacks waiting to happen in less than 10 minutes. The Waffle House was an adventure unto itself.
Jam-packed with locals and travelers alike, the staff was swamped with orders on the warm and humid Christmas morning. I can't say I will ever spend another Christmas morning like that, but I will say I don't want to ever again! It took 15 minutes to place my order and another 25 to deliver. While waiting, Mo fidgeted, jumped, and couldn't sit still; can you blame him? I played with one of his Hot Wheels cars, and people watched. At the counter sat an older couple who wore Christmas shirts and socks. I thought this was so cute that I had to snap their socks. I did it covertly so as not to draw attention to my photography.
We felt at home when we finally made it across the Florida border. We started talking about how much we missed things like palm trees and the ocean. We stopped at the first rest stop we came across on I-95, and I kid you not, as I was entering the lady's room, I held the door for 6 women, and not one of them had the courtesy to say thank you. Yes, I was in Florida. Welcome Home. We still had another seven hours to Miami. Once in Miami, we booked it to my husband's BFF's house for a Christmas BBQ. His Mom and brother were the only ones besides my sister who knew we were making the trek down. Once we got there, we called his Mom, and she came out, took Copper, and handed him over to his grandfather. Needless to say, he was surprised, so much so that he started to weep (a bit of alcohol was involved), and his reaction made the trip worth it.