You know, I travel a lot.

I meant a lot.

Like I wake up in a king sized hotel bed from heaven and after stretching and thinking Mmmmm I think, what city am I in?

But never in my years of business or personal travel (and I started at the ripe old age of three weeks) have I ever taken a flight departing on the hour.

I always joked about having schedule departure flight times of 5:07 or 12:02.

But this week, I experienced a first… twice.

I took flights to and from Chicago which not only got me to my destination way earlier than expected but they also left on the hour!

2PM leaving LaGuardia to spend Mardi Gras in New Orleans Chicago

And yesterday I was on a 4:00 PM flight home in order to make sure I was able to read bedtime stories to the kidlets.

It was also the first time I’ve been in Chicago and left O’Hare without any delays at all. I wonder if it’s premature to write O’Hare off my list of airports to avoid.

But sadly it wasn’t the first time I caught a cold from an arrogant business traveler.

So as I sat there figuring out which recipes from Michele Bernstein I’d recreate from the March issue of O magazine, there was a cold brewing inside me.

And now it’s knocked me off my feet. Horrible timing considering I am scheduled to work this weekend.

digg Del.icio.us Technorati kirtsy Yahoo My Web Stumble Upon Bloglines Email this

Day 1. So it is being written.

I’m given up restaurant takeout and delivery for Lent.

But I’m being realistic in thinking I may have to teach my mother a signal for “Order pizza - Stat” when she’s here and I don’t want to make dinner.

Not absolutely sure but I may have to leave that as an option.

I’m not even Catholic — I am Episcopalian (or Anglican depending on what part of the world you are in)  and some Protestants do follow Lent. I attended Catholic schools since First grade and I’ve married Catholics (Doesn’t that make it seem like I married a whole parish?!) making me familiar with this religious holiday. And what it means.

40 Days of refraining from ordering in instead of cooking will probably be very good for my debit card also.

Who knows, maybe after the neighborhood restaurants forget the sound of my voice, I may make the decision to call them less (not that I was even calling more than twice a week – max) without the assistance of a holiday.

So farewell Seamless Web, Delivery.com and MenuPages (for now!). We’ve gotten way too close and it’s time for a trial separation

digg Del.icio.us Technorati kirtsy Yahoo My Web Stumble Upon Bloglines Email this

Every time I turn on the TV or read something online (I won’t lie, I rarely have an actual newspaper in my hands.) there’s a story about some recently laid off lawyer or broker who decided to take their severance package and use it to start making cupcakes from their apartment (dude, isn’t that totally against like 40 health codes!?) or teach yoga to inner city kids.

Point is, people are changing their careers once they are forced out of the one they thought they would be in until they were financially comfortable enough to leave on their own terms. And they are loving these new careers… embracing them and not looking back, at least when the cameras and writers are focused on them.

It got me thinking - and not because anyone is forcing me out of any of my 20 jobs - about my next career.

Nothing has really jumped out at me and I think it’s because I’m happy with what I’m current doing.

But people recently have been telling me I’m really funny.

I’m not even sure if those feelings go beyond my Facebook status updates.

And I’m not sure what scale they are using when they measure my funniness.

But it’s all next stop comedienne for me.

Can you tell I’ve kinda let a handful of comments go to my head?

Either way, I now envision myself headlining at Caroline’s here in New York or The Mirage in Vegas.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the comedic stylings of Vicki P.”

That’s right, I’d need a new name for my new career. Would need a fun “gonna make you laugh, so sit back with your beverage minimums” kind of name.

And I’d need a shtick …

Not exactly like Carlin’s Seven Words…. Maybe more like Lisa Lampanelli except without the mean comments and graphic sexual humor.

Oh wait. That wouldn’t work.

Whatever I decided, I’d want to make sure I didn’t get a talking to from my grandmother after my set was over.

So maybe I would just talk about nothing in particular.

Fudge that’s been done.

Maybe I’d just wear a ball gown through the whole set but not explain why I was dressed for an Inauguration.

Hmmm… I need to figure out my career backup plan because it’s either this idea or my other idea of selling balloons for $5 a pop in Central Park.

Hey, this girl has bills.

digg Del.icio.us Technorati kirtsy Yahoo My Web Stumble Upon Bloglines Email this