OMG OMG OMG. In other words, the OMG post.

This week, I went to this event called Swagapalooza–which, hello, moms would be reeeeeamed for if they ever dreamed of throwing such an event. But we won’t go into that right now.

It was actually not a swag whore thing –the swag bags were definitely secondary to the event itself–but rather a digital influencer experiment (how very 2009). Think the Shark Tank meets Donny Deutsch meets the Gong Show, only with a Justin.tv live twitter stream broadcast on stage as companies were pitching us. Which happens to be to be a lethal thing when coupled with free wine, no food, and 125 hilarious twitterers.

So when a site called Voyage.TV which is launching a six week Tweet Your Trip promotion, asked us to tweet our dream trip and they’d pick one at the end of the hour, I’m not sure how seriously anyone took it.

Then I tweeted:

And I forgot about it. I was too distracted by the mini Milky Ways I had tracked down in the bathroom (don’t ask) and by the most excellent company around me.

That is, until, a little while later, when the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life stood up on stage and announced my name as the winner.

And I cried.

OMG people. We’re going to Spain.

The last real trip that Nate and I took, just the two of us, was a drive to Montreal on our anniversary five years ago. We have a beautiful child to show for it, so I’d say yep, it was a memorable weekend. But still – five years ago. That’s a long ass time for two people who really adore traveling.

Since having the kids, there have been family trips and family weddings and family birthdays in Florida and the Great Trailer Experiment of 2008, and we’re very lucky in the sense that we haven’t exactly been stuck at home for five years straight. But still, we’ve yet to make that much-needed, relationship-healing, just-the-two-of-us kind of romantic trip. Every time we think we can scrounge together the money and the time off, even for a b&b weekend in the Berkshires, another family member calls with another travel obligation and we end up shelving our plans. Which kind of makes Nate want to kill himself.

Things haven’t been easy since Nate started culinary school. Our schedules are turned upside down, and we barely see each other between the hours of 6 AM and midnight. I’m so proud though of how hard he’s been working and how much he’s been sacrificing, that I keep saying if I had a million dollars, as that song goes (sorry, it will be stuck in your head now for the next 16 years), I would take him on his dream trip to Spain to eat at El Bulli and pronounce z as th and gorge ourselves on churros that aren’t served out of a cart on the 3rd Street Promenade.

Let’s just say Nate is obsessed with Spain in a not entirely healthy way. The guy reads the Fodor’s travel guides to Barcelona for fun.

And now we’re going. We’re really really going.

Oh, except there’s this one other thing.

Because I was smashed (seriously empty stomach with that open bar) I added:

I may have jumped the gun on that. Although I think Nate would do it if we somehow got into El Bulli.

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Update: As it turns out, Voyage.tv picked my entry based on the first tweet and not the second one. PHEW. Which means we’re getting a big crazy, poor culinary student, foodie trip of Spain. Suck on that, Bordain! We did actually look into the whole marriage thing, but as it turns out, two weeks is not nearly enough time to pull off a wedding in Spain. Also, I’m not nearly as spontaneous as I’d like to think I am.