Tag Archives: tony espinoza

Rediscovering Vizcaya

What my first trimester lacked in enthusiasm, my second trimester has made up for in abundant energy and a desire to wake up at the crack of dawn to seize the city. I’m not entirely sure what’s sparked this new love affair with a city I’ve admittedly admonished for its laundry list of faults (anyone who commutes more than a one-block radius can certainly understand), but I’ll chalk it up to hormonal nesting and the ever-present optimism its brought with it – a trait that’s been rather unnatural in the past for this self-proclaimed and proudly snarky Cuban girl.

Still, if the baby wants to get out into the city, my body shall direct him/her there. So it was that we found ourselves at Vizcaya, rediscovering one of those magical places that hasn’t lost its charm on me. This was Tony’s first time visiting the museum that used to be home to agricultural industrialist James Deering – and quite a home it was. Talk about satisfying that urge to nest.

We spent the day wandering the gardens, trying to imagine what it’s like to have ten acres of land upon which to build a life. We’re a far cry from that in a barely 900 sq ft apartment a little too close to Kendall for my liking. But there’s something to be said for inspiration. Maybe Baby E will enjoy a baroque-inspired nursery… In any case, here are a few shots of our favorite spots, of which there were quite a few. Well done, Mr. Deering. Enjoy.

Thanks to my hubby for taking these amazing pics. I got a few shots in with my iPhone but he’s the one with the serious camera skills.

And Baby Makes 3

Hello, old friend. It’s been a while. Two months, to be exact. Coming back from New York following a grueling tourist run left me depleted of any energy, motivation, or inspiration to post anything worth reading. But the truth is, it probably had more to do with the fact that I was newly pregnant (surprise!) than it did with actually dodging tourists in Manhattan — though that really didn’t help anyone, either.

I’m now about four months pregnant and feeling much more energetic (and a lot less pukey), but the first three months were especially trying. This is my first child and I’d heard quite a few horror stories of what I could expect to endure. But nothing can really prepare you for the toll your hormones will take on your body. For the first time in my adult life, I was not in control of anything and it was driving me absolutely nuts. Every day was a gamble. Some days were ok at best. Others were downright immobilizing. I spent a week in bed trying to figure out what was hurting the most — I was discovering parts I’d never been familiar with before. And also discovering they could hurt to the point of needing constant rest.

I was also surprised to learn I couldn’t stand perfume, makeup, or anything with even a mild fragrance. So there went the product review and sampling I’d planned following that incredible loot I’d snagged at the NYC events. And then there was the morning sickness…the kind that lasted all day. I’ll spare you the details of the rest of these magical symptoms. Suffice it to say it was basically a permanent state of hangover but without all the fun the night before. Also a little bit like a second run at adolescent puberty.

But, mostly, it was a three-month period of hermit-like existence. I’m grateful for my self-employed status. I don’t know how other women do it and I seriously curtsy to their bravery and endurance. Still, despite the physical torment and daily symptom discovery, Tony and I are incredibly excited and can’t wait to find out whether we’ll be welcoming a little girl or boy. We’re now eagerly preparing for his/her arrival, which means I may be a little slow on the posts and reviews, but I’ll do my best to keep them coming. I’m starting to feel much more like myself, so I’m optimistic about that.

Anyway, I couldn’t wait to share the news and hope to be able to share more of the process with my readers. There must be other mommies or moms-to-be out there who can share in the process. If you are, I’d love to hear from you. Trust me, any little bit of encouragement helps. Xx

P.S. Thanks to my incredibly talented husband for the awesome pregnancy announcement (photo above).

Date Night

If you’re wondering why in God’s name I’m voluntary wandering around West Kendall on a sacred date night, fear not – I have not suffered a concussion or been taken against my will. This is, however, illustrative of what happens when you insist on trying to wrap up a phone conversation while simultaneously gesturing to your husband as he heads in the direction of your flailing  hand signals that should have been pointing east when you were, unfortunately, directing west. Don’t point and talk, kids.

But I digress. Because venturing around Kendall makes for good blog fodder and vivid imagery, mainly produced by the neon lights at the Village Diner and Romero Britto’s insatiable desire to imprint on anything standing still long enough to get a healthy coat of kaleidoscopic glitter paint.

So what’s a girl to do? Well, what did Alice do? She painted the roses red with the rest of them. And so I did as the Kendallites do and enjoyed some time with my man by having some grub at the aforementioned greasy spoon, perusing the magazine racks for some quality glossies, and waiting around for a heavily-marketed summer flick that was delayed due to “technical issues” for about 45 minutes (you don’t want to miss the pic below; the screen was in that state for about 15 minutes following a half-hour period of plain old darkness).

But, if I’m honest, I’ll admit that it wasn’t really that bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. I mean, will I volunteer for another night of dark-screen gazing and overcooked frites-consumption? Well, possibly. But that’s not the point. The point is that my honey took me on a date and made Kendall tolerable, blog-worthy, and even kinda nice. And you’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’d probably feel just as syrupy as I do right now.

So I give you my date-night highlights for your enjoyment and edification. And a word to the wise: Always head east.

Outfit details: L.A.M.B. Maier Tote, Qupid Black Wedges 

Lokal Love

In a cluster of vacant spaces and abounding conventionality sits Lokal, a respite for those of us who wish we lived in the kind of city this little joint portrays. Unassuming, unpretentious, and just plain cozy, Lokal is the kind of place where one can enjoy a seriously good burger and a healthy selection of craft beers with only the occasional hipster sighting due to the $2 PBR cooler out by the window. It’s this little haven that saved our evening from Miami’s suffocating moisture and my admittedly poor choice of wardrobe throughout the summer months.

Perhaps it’s my naivete or occasional spurts of optimism that drive me to sign up for “free” events only to arrive and find that I do, indeed, live in Miami, and not Utah, as my husband so articulately likes to remind me – and all that that implies. It was in this sporadic state of idealism that I signed us up for the Rock of Ages premier at the Paragon, to later show up and be reminded that there’s usually a price for “free” and it often consists of sweating in Miami’s unforgiving humidity and standing in line behind what can only be described as the unwashed guy’s oily secretions (it smelled exactly as it sounds).

In the interest of full disclosure, I feel that it’s important to tell you that I suffer from a condition, as yet unnamed, where I often find myself inappropriately garbed and completely unawares until I’ve arrived at my destination that I’ve dressed for an entirely different city. Such was the case last night when I showed up in what I thought to be a completely acceptable casual outfit of dark-washed denim, long-sleeved cotton top, and platform pumps (see below) when what I really should have been wearing was a mu-mu and some flip flops to more comfortably stand in line behind approximately 300 of Miami’s other hopeful movie-goers.

Chalk it up to optimism or sheer delusion. Maybe it’s some underlying M.O. to eventually move to a more seasonal climate. But the fact remains that I was born and raised in Miami and yet still own a wardrobe consisting (without exaggeration) of 60% fall/winter items. We lasted all of twenty minutes before my bangs were plastered to my forehead and my “cute casual outfit” felt more like a winter coat at the beach. Without a chance of getting into the premier before suffering possible dehydration by denim, we cut our losses and decided on dinner.

Walking back, we realized we were stuck in a tourist trap full of franchised fried food so we made for the car and braved rush-hour traffic for about ten minutes when Tony literally turned the car around and said, “Screw this. We’re going to Lokal.” God bless his heart for knowing that a good burger can save any night. It’s probably one of the reasons I married him.

It took only a few minutes and a couple of IPA’s (Deviant Dale IPA, Dogfish Rotating Taps Milton DE, and Lagunitas IPA) to turn the night around. That, a mouthwatering 50/50 burger, some gator strips with an un-posted garlic sauce (thank you, Ms. Bartender), and a genuinely friendly staff. And really, in this city or any, what more could you want?

I know I’m not the first person to cover this place. Far from it. But this post is just a simple thank you from the bottom of my heart – for not falling into the generic food scene this city has seen for too damn long. And for allowing my husband and I a simple night of great food, beer, and conversation. It shouldn’t be such a rare occurrence. But in our transient little city, it tends to be. So here’s to hoping Lokal remains a local favorite, no cliched puns intended. We really look forward to seeing you again soon.

 

 

 

 

P.S. I love a bar with purse hooks. You’d be surprised how many places overlook this essential little detail. Thanks again, Lokal. From the ladies in Miami with annoyingly large bags that we just can’t seem to get enough of.