Paul and I both love the ocean, marinas and sailing and on this vacation we got to experience all three. The whole time we were gone I couldn’t help but think, “This is how we do it! If we didn’t have this time alone, we would never survive.”

For the last year I have been developing a business based on a passion of mine, my love of the ocean. It is called SeaweedArt. I have designed printed greeting cards created from images of my pressed seaweed collages. I am selling the cards in 2 assorted packages of 6 designs each with matching printed envelopes.  I am donating 10% of the profits to charitable organizations dedicated to preserving and protecting the ocean and marine habitats.

SeaweedArt is a dream come true for me because I am doing what I love in a rewarding career fully utilizing my talents and skills. I am very proud of what I have accomplished in the last year. It wasn’t easy working full time, going to graduate school and raising five kids. It is so gratifying to finally realize my goals.

We attended a trade show of air conditioning, heating and refrigeration professionals and if you think that was boring for me, you could be right. It was tedious at times, since I am not a mechanical engineer, like my brilliant inventor husband, but you would be amazed at what I learned. I learned that my husband is a creative genius, as well as  a highly regarded business professional in his field. Although I didn’t always understand all that talk about air-to-water heat pumps and modulating condensing boilers, I was never bored listening to my husband  because I am so proud of him. He has a commanding presence and his influence, ideas and vision are respected by anyone he meets. At cocktail receptions in the evenings, editors from all the major trade publications asked to speak to him to arrange interviews.

That is how things look on the outside. From the inside, I know my husband wrestles with the enormity of the task he is undertaking, developing a new product to bring to a market that is not always receptive to new ideas. Can it be done? Will people buy it?  Is it worth the risk? You betcha. Just as those early visionaries sketched out their plans to build casinos in the middle of the desert, I know that great ideas are not born overnight and the execution of them can, at times, seem daunting and overwhelming, especially when skeptics say it can’t be done. But I know better. I believe in my husband’s dreams and I will always support him. No matter what. Long after Elvis has left the building.

Ian has been a welcome addition to our family for the past 2 1/2 years, occupying the studio apartment at the back of our property, teaching Mark guitar lessons and occasionally joining us for dinner. He also works part time for us in our family business, as a draftsman. (Perhaps someday he will go back to UCLA and finish his mechanical engineering degree.) In addition, he supplements his income teaching guitar lessons and voice lessons. One of his students, James Durban (his real name and not sure of the spelling) has an amazing rock star voice. He does great impression of famous singers like Joe Cocker and Steven Tyler and we would often hear him singing and be blown away by how incredibly talented he is. James was here yesterday to say goodbye to Ian and told us he made the top 40 finalists on this year’s American Idol!!! Needless to say, we’ll all be tuning in to watch and root for our hometown rock star. I’ll keep you posted on both fronts: Ian’s new band and James’ status on American Idol.

Many, many moons ago, in my pre-soccer mom kid days, I was a mega star in the sales and marketing world. Every where I worked I was always at the top of my game, the top seller, the biggest producer, an up and coming media star. I often managed to get my name in the news, I was interviewed on TV and on NPR, my clothing line was featured on national talk shows and I was even mentioned on Page 6 of the New York Post. And then something happened. I got into a funk. I lost my courage and my confidence. I forgot who I was.

It all started when my daughter Eva was born 14 years ago and  I quit my job to stay home with my children. At least that is what I said I wanted.  I’m sure my ex-husband will remember things differently, that I made the choice of my own free will. But that is not how I saw it. As a mother of  an infant and a toddler married to a work-a-holic husband with no family support nearby, I really didn’t see that I had any other option. I just couldn’t see myself working all day and then coming home to care for young children while my then husband worked 80 hour weeks. I was tired of fighting him for help and attention so I just gave in. And then five years later, just when Eva was starting kindergarten, we got divorced. As a means to reignite my former self, I started a small business which was a modest success, but it could have been so much more. It was a struggle working on it alone as a single mother of small children so once again, I took the Mommy track and settled for less than what I knew I could produce. I laid low. I licked my wounds. I lost my groove.

But not anymore.

These past few months working on my master’s degree have served to set the stage for my big comeback, which was this past week at a business convention in Reno. Paul was slated to instruct a class and was lobbying hard for me to teach a break out session on Internet marketing. He felt I had a lot to contribute and I agreed. When the convention organizers gave me the green light, I hurriedly put together a Power Point presentation and crossed my fingers that people would show up and I would calm my nerves long enough to get through it. People showed up and I got through it OK, or so I thought. There were about a dozen attendees in the room and everyone came up to me afterward raving about the presentation. They gave my their business cards and asked me to send them the presentation. One person told me she learned more from me than from anyone else and that seeing my presentation was worth the cost of the convention. I couldn’t believe it. I started to feel the successful rumblings of my former self, but it wasn’t until a few hours later when I was convinced that the old me was back.

Lunch was served to all trade show attendees in a large, cavernous hall with high ceilings, a big stage and  lots of tables. Paul and I found a seat in the back of the room to listen to the keynote speaker give a talk on “overcoming one’s fears” to an audience of at least 300 people. As a demonstration of his message he asked for volunteers to get up on stage and tell everyone why they were there. I thought about going up, but someone beat me to it and I was relieved. A few minutes later he asked again, but this time there were no takers. I knew if I didn’t go up there I would always regret it. I’m the marketing director for our company for crying out loud. What better opportunity to promote our business than to get up on stage, grab the microphone and tell everyone about it. Before I could lose my nerve, I found myself rushing up to the front up the room and bounding up the stairs to the stage. I made my speech. I was nervous. My voice quivered a bit, but I told everyone there about our product and why we were there. Afterward Paul beamed with pride. Several people came up to him to tell him they were interested in hearing more about our product and to congratulate him for having such a courageous wife.

The next day I attended a seminar and the man in front of me turned around and said, “You’re that lady who got up on that stage.” He gave me his card and told me to have Paul contact him. I got Paul a lot of leads by doing that. But in the end I didn’t do it for him, and I didn’t do it to promote our business. I did it for me. I was that lady who got up on that stage, and in the process, I got my groove back.

The casino, with its  tall ceiling, flashing neon lights and  popping sounds of slot machines can best be described as  walking through a life size pinball machine. That was the image that came to my mind. The Oceano Restaurant, complete with hanging jelly fish chandeliers has to be experienced in order to be fully appreciated.  The hotel room itself, however,  conjures an entirely different image. There is  a large Jacuzzi tub (for two)  in the center of the room with mirrors on the ceiling, naturally, and get this… there is a double strand of rope lighting  surrounding the perimeter of the ceiling that when lit up in the evening resembles an airport landing strip. Who designs these places I want to know? The trip was very successful but I am anxious to go home. Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I miss my children.

One of the many swimming pools at Bellagio.

After my wonderful four days with the girls touring colleges, shopping and sightseeing  in San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara, I headed home Tuesday night only to unpack and repack to head out to Las Vegas with Paul for a business conference. We stayed at the opulent, over-the- top hotel, Bellagio.

I had only been to Las Vegas once before, a year ago, which was also a work related trip. From a business perspective, the trips were both  huge successes. From a personal perspective, I have to say, Vegas is not my cup of tea. Or martini, or vodka tonic or whatever they drink in Sin City.

The town simply offends me on so many levels. I don’t know what bothers me the most, the manufactured ambiance, (fake oceans for instance), the cigar/cigarette smoke everywhere (Paul requested a non-smoking section in a restaurant and was informed there is no such thing.) the over-stimulating excess (re-touched posters of Cher) or the Frank Sinatra/Julio Iglesias/Celine Dion music blaring from the sound system.  Just in case you haven’t heard, Frank Sinatra was a member “the Rat Pack” and he and his buddies, Dean, Sammy and Joey, used to play a lot of gigs in Vegas. Lest we forget, his image and voice are everywhere. So are impersonators of Marilyn and Elvis. The best comparison I can make is to say  visiting this town is like sitting through a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show … on steroids.

But I was never a party girl. I like dressing up for maybe an hour and then my feet hurt from the high heels and I want to kick them off, put on some sweats, crawl into a club chair and read a book. OK, so I’m boring. I missed my kids. We are already planning our next college tour.