A girl can dream...

I've never been one of those people who knew with certainty what I wanted to do with my life. There was a brief period in elementary school when I thought I wanted to be a dentist, but I think that more stemmed from my desire to spare other kids from the horrific hours of screaming, painful, "one more minute" pleading, dental visits that I logged before the age of 10, than from actually wanting to be a dentist.

Then there was a brief encounter with a fake veterinary kit, sparking the "I want to be a vet" proclamation, countless afternoons setting up my "classroom" (all of the students were stuffed animals aside from my younger sister who my whole family will not hesitate to tell you, I tortured), and the longest lasting potential career of a doctor which I truly thought I would be, until I magically got accepted into the Ogilvy Associates program and decided to ditch my white coat for the glamorous life of an advertising exec. Whattadream.

Now that I've been in the work world for 3 years, yikes, I've spent a great deal of time thinking about what I want the next step to be, where I see myself going, and what my "5 year plan" is (I still have no 5 year plan so if you're reading this and have one, go away). I love my company and the people that I work with but if I were to say this is my passion, and what I want my career to be, I'd be lying, and I'm not a liar so I'm not going to say that.

Working at Ogilvy is amazing. I can say that and truly stand behind it. It's a fantastic company with vision, more innovative thinkers in one building than most places have across locations, opportunities galore and a fun culture. I've learned so much about myself here, both personally and professionally, so I'm not hanging up my red rimmed hat just yet, but I would like to have a goal in mind, or at least some semblance of a path. So, everyday I think about it- path's aren't made on their own! I daydream about careers, businesses, odd jobs, my idea of the "perfect day", all in the hopes of figuring out just what it is, I want to DO.

I sometimes think I'd be happiest working in a small boutique, teaching Pure Barre classes, and baking for a small fee. But then I remember I live in New York City and on my bare bones corporate salary (which to much of the world is a lot more than bare bones), I can barely make rent, so how would I do on WAY less? And that's when I close the dream gates and type furiously into excel. One strategy, coming right up!

Seriously though, it's a problem.

I've watched my sister go after her dream of becoming a sex therapist with more passion and determination than I've felt for anything, seen friends attack multiple masters degrees in pursuit of their callings, and read articles about people who've made it big following their dreams. I admire these people, but I also hate them. I admire them because they're going after what they want, but I hate them because they know. If I had some inner purpose or innate desire to do something, but was sitting on my Pure Barre toned butt at an office all day, actively NOT doing it, yea that would be annoying...but I'm not.  It's not as if I know what I want to do but I'm afraid to take the leap, I'm ready to leap...let's leap already, but where to?

The whole "go back to school" phenomenon is great in theory but, I don't want to go back to school for the sake of going back to school. First of all, that would be boring, and second of all, I don't have a spare $80 grand lying around (but if someone reading this does, I take cash, checks, stocks, bonds). I know I don't want to do what I'm doing now forever, and going back to school would (in theory) help get me closer to doing whatever it is I do want to do, but I can't just show up on admitted students day and say hey, school me. I mean I could, but that would probably result in the psych ward being called, and I have enough excitement in my life without the involvement of the authorities.

So, in an attempt to get closer to this supposed future I keep hearing about, and the fact that this is my blog, and I can write what I want, I'm going to make a list of all of my inklings, thoughts, daydreams, ideas, likes, dislikes, insanities... and maybe, just maybe, today will be the day that I leap, or at least get closer to the edge.

Likes

• Pure Barre
• Baking
• Organizing
• Workout gear
• Grocery shopping (it's a secret favorite, now not so secret)
• Planning and scheduling
• Being outside
• Driving
• Waking up early
• Health and nutrition
• Dogs
• Homes/real estate
• Writing (this blog has reinvigorated that love)
• Researching and investigating (i'm disturbingly good at it)
• Rules (i follow them)

Dislikes

• Being in an office all day
• Not contributing to the "greater good" of the world
• Going blind from a computer screen
• Staying at work passed sunset
• Tuna fish in a can...it really bothers me so I put it on here

Ok so the dislikes list is kind of random, but the likes list gives me some semblance of direction...in a weird twisted only I'd understand it kind of way. Maybe? Work with me here. This is what I've got: open a bakery, work at LuLu Lemon, start a Pure Barre franchise, hit it big in the stock market, become a guidance counselor (I've been told this is my calling), open a premier dog facility, bake and sell out of my apartment, interior design, start an organization business (organizing for those who can't), open a college prep center (I'm a bit too good at applications and getting documents in order), become a realtor (but that's on hold after my recent apartment hunting nightmare), go to law school (highly unlikely), write a weekly column, write a book, go back to school for Journalism, enroll in culinary school, move to the country/south and open a bed and breakfast, open a sleep away camp, work for an outdoor adventure company.

While this list is incredibly random, one thing everything has in common (or at least I think they do) is flexibility. The ability to make my own schedule and work at 5am if I'd prefer it to 4pm. The option to work extremely hard one day, and lay in bed and stare at the ceiling the next. The idea that I am in control of my own results and that my hard work WILL pay off and impact my degree of success. Where I am now, that's not a possibility. I have no control of my hours (give or take a few), I can work as hard as I want and not get a promotion or raise because my individual work doesn't equate to rewards. The feeling of being "stuck" is a daily occurrence and for a mover and shaker like myself, bam chica wow wow, that's extremely frustrating.  So there are my ramblings as they relate to my ever-evolving quest for the perfect career.

Ok, so it's not a 5 year plan, but it's something.

Read More

Travel, Co-Ops and Summer Fun

Sometimes life comes at you all at once and it's just so much fun. The weather is nice, friends are great, work is in check, there's a boy, plans are planned for summer and you're like damn...life is great. That's where I'm at right now.

This weekend I headed up to Boston to visit my cousin and his fiance'. He's been living up there for about six years and no one in the family has been to visit him in the last few years (take a hint buddy, only kidding). I've been meaning to go for a while but you know how it is, work, social engagements, a 3 hour drive...you get busy. But a few months ago I said I'd visit over Memorial Day weekend, and I was sticking to it. Saturday morning I hopped in the car for the three hour journey to see what their New England life was all about. The drive was long, and hot, but my country music and endless supply of Dunkin Donuts coffee kept me going, and I'm so glad I went.

A little background...my cousin and I have not always seen eye to eye, but in the last year or so, that's really changed. We've both matured and grown in ways that have brought our personalities closer together, and his fiance' Morgan (whom I think is the best thing that's happened to him) seems to be a great influence, contributing to our newfound friendship. Morgan is one of those totally cool people that you feel like you want to be friends with even if you just spend a few minutes with her. We've gotten to spend a good amount of time together over the holidays the last few years and I'm glad that we're as close as we are. Getting to spend time with them both, without the rest of our crazy (i'm not just saying this, I love us but we're nuts) family around was really special.

I arrived on Saturday around 12:30 and we hung around the house and made lunch before heading up to the North Shore to explore a little oasis my cousin discovered overlooking the ocean. It was the PERFECT day for exploring and we climbed, dipped our toes in the water, got spider bites, and chatted. After that we headed to the small town of Gloucester where we walked around the cute little shops, got some local ice cream, and enjoyed the afternoon. We barbecued for dinner and made a delicious meal of grilled salmon, asparagus and turnips and ended the night with a bonfire and s'mores (only way to end a summer night). We stayed outside for hours, enjoying the fire and playing with their dog, Dixie, and then we all turned in early tuckered out from our big day of rock exploring and marshmallow roasting, crazy Memorial Day weekend for us. I woke up early the next morning and set out to explore on foot. I went for a great run along a river near their house and snapped some photos of their cute cottage-filled neighborhood. We all went out for a delicious breakfast Sunday morning at a cute diner near their house, and then I was on my way.

                                                                                           New England Cuteness

                             

 

Run-ready

The rest of the weekend was spent at my parents house in White Plains, which anyone whose ever been to can attest is, a seriously amazing summer paradise. The weather turned out to be gorgeous so we hung by the pool, spent time with old friends, power washed the flagstone deck (quite the adventure) and ended the weekend with an incredible BBQ.

My amazing backyard

It was the perfect start of Summer weekend and the warmer weather puts a big smile on my face.

Speaking of smiles...when I first started this blog, I promised tales of dating disasters, but have yet to deliver. I'm happy to report that there have been no disasters as of late (perfect timing I know) but rather just the opposite. I've now gone on two (great if I must admit) dates with someone who for now, will remane nameless.  We met through a friend and it's been so nice to experience dating the way people tell you it should be. Without giving away too much (he's probably not pleased I'm posting about him) our second date was last night (cue blushing) and we enjoyed a great dinner followed by a walk in the park in an attempt to see the spectacular Manhattanhenge (unfortunately the clouds ruined our chances, better luck next time). Despite the extreme heat and my completely out of control sweating (it was really gross hot out) we had a great time and he even held my hand through the uncomfortable temperatures (and aforementioned sweating situation), major points. Ok, that's all you get for now...more on this later should circumstances allow.

In apartment news, since my last post we've seen about ten other apartments and after much deliberation, the supplying of hundreds of pages of documentation, late night scanning, abandoned responsibilities, tearful phone calls and parental hand holding...we signed a lease for a 2 bedroom co-op on west 82nd street. Yay you say, the hunt is over but not so fast... now, we wait. Not for keys, not for approved paperwork, not for rainbows and pots of gold, or a marching band announcing our arrival...but for more hurdles.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the co-op process, which is the large majority of people on this planet (praise your life everyday for this naivety) it's a ridiculous process requiring tax returns, social security numbers, bank information, letters of reference and basically everything short of a blood test, though I'm not entirely convinced the next phone call won't be asking for a vile of the red stuff, only kidding...sort of.

So what is the co-op process I speak of? It goes a little something like this...after the family bond threatening exercise of gathering a ludicrous amount of information that most people don't have sitting around their homes, you submit your paperwork and sign a lease...but wait for it...you still don't officially have the apartment. Yes, you've signed a lease, a legally binding contract, and you've provided enough proprietary information to be the subject of identity theft three times over, but in the land of co-op ville you're still not a member of the club. The real mccoy comes by way of the co-op board. First the review of said relationship destroying paperwork and then, drumroll please, the interview, which conveniently, can take anywhere from 20-30 days to schedule. Now let me break it down for you folks: it's currently May 30, if this giddy up takes the full 30 days, then the PIC and I will have approximately 1 day to hire movers, see apartments, gather new paperwork, submit applications, sign a lease and move or we be homeless, can you spare any change?

Am I being slightly dramatic? Yes. Is there a high likelihood this whole thing could take 10 days? Yes. Are we likely to get approved by the co-op board because we'd be awesome tenants and our guarantors make 1 million times rent? Yes. But what would this blog be without a little flare for the theatrics.

Anyway, back to reality. We've done all we can do and are currently deep in the throes of the waiting game. Waiting with the hope that at the end of this yellow-brick road will be a shiny golden key armed with the ability to let us into our new apartment; A truly charming apartment just 1 flight up in an adorable quiet brownstone complete with a fireplace, tons of windows, an updated kitchen, two decent sized bedrooms, an entire wall of brick and alas...closet space, the NYC equivalent of "I've made it". Dare I dream.

So that's what's going on with me in life, like and family drama. Until next time.

Read More

"I have to pee but I don't trust you guys"

...you know your meal is good when one of the people you're eating with won't leave the table to use the bathroom for fear that when she comes back, all of the food will be gone. And so went our May monthly dinner.

About a year and a half ago my three best friends and I were enjoying a Friday night dinner together at the once fantastic, and now sadly closed, Salt in SOHO. When the check came we all pulled out our wallets and the waitress groaned as we asked her to please split the bill evenly by four. Midway through the killing of 4 trees in the production of our receipts, I realized this splitting and signing was all a bit silly.  So, I suggested that instead of getting together for dinner once in a blue moon, and splitting the bill six ways from Sunday, we commit to a monthly dinner with a rotating pay cycle.

The rules are simple: every month we get together for dinner and one person pays, the person paying picks the restaurant and no body's turn can fall on the same month as their birthday. This little arrangement not only solved the "please split this four ways and don't spit in our coffee" conundrum but also ensured we would see each other at least once a month (not an easy feat when trying to coordinate the schedules of a jewelry store manager, reading teacher, media planner and advertising strategist, hailing from the East Village, Upper East Side, Jersey City and Upper West Side all while juggling work functions, boyfriends and most recently a fiance')! Phew...try that in your google calendar for size.

This month it was my turn and I picked Buddakan, a delicious, and highly talked-about, Asian Fusion restaurant in Chelsea right next to the Chelsea Market. For those of you who own every season of Sex and the City and have seen both movies more times than you'd like to admit know a thing or two about pop culture, this is where Carrie and Big's rehearsal dinner was filmed...swoon.

We arrived without a reservation at 7:30pm on Wednesday night, risky in NYC in the Spring, but were seated right away. We quickly devoured the menu and decided on a few appetizers, entree's and a vegetable to share. We opted for the following:  Edamame Dumplings which my friend Megan eloquently described as "puffs of edamame goodness" (and followed with a text the next day saying she wanted to live in one),  the Deviled Tuna Tartare which arrived on a bed of something green which we all assumed to be avocado (wrong, it was deviled egg), Beef lettuce cups which were to die for, spiced tofu and cashews with dried pineapple (ah-mazing), broken chili chicken (eh, take it or leave it), and charred asparagus. Let's just say the waiter came over mid-meal to apologize for the asparagus taking so long, to which we replied "no, it already came and we ate it"...drawn your own conclusions.

Amazing food aside, these dinners are something I look forward to every month. At the end of the day, these are my best friends in the world. They have known me for eleven years and understand me better than anyone, even my own family at times. They have been by my side through graduations, break ups, first dates (too many!), hazy nights, sports injuries, apartment hunting, countless laughs and so much more that i'd never be able to list here. They are like my sisters and at each one of these dinners, no matter how stressed I am in other walks of life, I am reminded of how much fun we have together and of how lucky I am to have them in my life.

Outside Buddakan

I hope you all have friends in your lives who make you feel as loved as these three girls do for me. As we kick off the Summer  (during which 3 of us will turn 25 and one already is) I'm so happy to have our check-splitting-free dinners, contagious laughter, friendship and sisterhood.

The four of us after apple picking a few years ago

Have a great Memorial Day weekend everyone! Happy watermelon eating, popsicle licking, bathing suit wearing, barbecue-going, season.

Read More

Nutritiously Delicious...Pizza is My Weakness

Pizza might be my all time favorite food. Actually, I think it is my all time favorite food. That or Costco cake... judge away.

I love, and I mean LOVE, melted cheese. When my sister and I were younger, we used to cut up fresh mozzarella (you know the kind in the ceran wrap with the little knots on the ends), put it in a glass bowl and microwave it for 20-30 seconds. The result was a melted cheese bowl...might sound ridiculously gross, but trust me, if you're a cheese lover, it's ridiculously good. A few years into our culinary discovery, Dori had a bad experience with said cheese bowl and a movie involving a red-head, so she never ate one again, and without my cheese bowl sidekick the idea seemed less appealing.

Cheese bowls no longer an option, I turned to more conventional means of consuming melted cheese, you know on other things and not by itself...yea...

Perhaps this cheese bowl concoction came from the fact that I was a very picky eater as a kid, and I mean VERY picky. Who knows, maybe I was just weird. Anyway, pickiness, weirdness, cheesebowlness aside, I always loved pizza, and since it was a politically correct thing to eat, I got to do so a lot. During swim meets (we have a home video of me eating pizza mid-swim meet on the dock while the other kids raced), on a Saturday night, on my weekly Tuesday afternoon dates with my mom while my sister was in a class, for lunch, homemade... anyway I could have it, I did..I loved pizza. As I got older my love for pizza took a back seat to my love for a waistline and ultimately, to my love for stomach-pain-free morning afters (last year I discovered I'm a gluten intolerant; not celiac but I feel better when I don't eat gluten). So, in the last year I'd say I've had pizza maybe once or twice and each time I remember how much I love it, and miss it.

So, you can imagine my excitement when the make-pizza-on-things-other-than-dough phenomenon burst through the internet in recent months.

First, I found a recipe for portobello mushroom pizzas (cute little nuggets you'll want to eat right out of the oven, warning: they will burn you) and most recently, a recipe for cauliflower crust pizza. When I found both I knew I had to try them immediately and now, no shock, both are staples in my gluten-free, melted-cheese, pizza-obsessed diet!

I usually make the portobello mushroom pizza as my dinner, but I introduced my mom to these little gems this winter and she has been making them as appetizers when we have friends over.  She just uses a pizza cutter to cut them into 4 equal parts and that way everyone gets a taste of the magic. They work great either way!

Portobello Mushroom Pizza (I found my recipe here but there are tons out there)
Serves: 1 person (2 mushroom caps, if I'm having this as my dinner otherwise, make as many as you want and cut them up)


Ingredients
2 portobello mushroom caps (remove the stems & "gils")
pizza sauce
shredded cheese
toppings of your choice (I like black olives or soy pepperoni

Directions
Remove the stems and gils from the portobello mushrooms. Spread desired amount of sauce, about 1/4 cup, of sauce into bottom of mushroom (you don't want them to be overflowing with sauce because then it will bubble up and spill out while you're cooking). Sprinkle with cheese and add your toppings. Bake on a cookie sheet at 350 degrees for about 10-15 minutes or until cheese is melted and bubbly.


Cauliflower Crust Pizza (This is the recipe I worked off of but altered it a bit)
*I doubled the recipe and it served 2 people with 1 slice left over. Plan accordingly.

Ingredients
For crust:
1 cup cooked, riced cauliflower
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese (I use the kraft fat free kind to cut calories here)
1 egg beaten
1 tsp oregano
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp crushed red pepper

For top:
Pizza sauce
Shredded cheese
Choice of toppings

Directions
To rice the Cauliflower: 


- Remove stems and leaves, and chop the cauliflower florets into chunks. I don't have a food processor so I grated the whole thing by hand with a cheese grater (blood, sweat and tears baby) but if you're a civilized human being and have kitchen utensils, use the food processor. (Food processor method: add cauliflower chunks to food processor and pulse until it looks like grain; do not over-pulse or you will puree it). 

- Place the riced cauliflower in a microwave safe bowl and microwave for 8 minutes. Do not add water, the natural moisture in the cauliflower is enough to cook itself, and if you add water it will turn to a mush pile.

*Note: One large head of cauliflower should produce approximately 3 cups of riced cauliflower, since you only need 1 cup for this recipe (or 2 if you're doubling it). You can keep the remainder to make more pizza crusts tomorrow once you realize you're addicted at a later time, or store it in the refrigerator for up to a week (or if you're like me throw it away because your fridge is approximately the size of your left calf).

To Make the Pizza Crust:

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Open front door of apartment so as not to set off smoke alarm. Spray a cookie sheet with non-stick cooking spray, (I'd spray it well especially in the middle, to avoid the well known- stuck on you anthem from haunting you in your sleep).

In a medium bowl, stir together riced cauliflower, egg and mozzarella. Add spices and mix. Transfer to the cookie sheet, and using your hands, pat out into a round crust looking shape.

Bake crust at 450 degrees for 15 minutes.

Remove from oven. Add sauce, toppings and cheese. Place under a broiler at high heat just until cheese is melted (approximately 3-4 minutes).

Devour and say out loud "oh my god this is almost as good as a cheesebowl real pizza"

My first cauliflower pizza...amazingly good

Happy cooking!

Read More

It's a tough life, but somebody's gotta do it

I was always one of those people who loved school; A fresh schedule, sharpened pencils, stack of sparkling new (and entirely unnecessary) school supplies, the promise of straight A's (yes I was that kid) and the undeniable need for a planner. For 17 years I knew what September had in store and then suddenly... I didn't.

When you graduate from college and enter the workforce, it's impossible to know what to expect. Will the days be long? The people nice? Will anyone care when I have a bad day? Will I become friends with my coworkers?  Will I fit in?

Soon after starting my job in advertising, I found out. Slowly but surely I navigated my way through the agency and eventually found myself with the content strategy team. When you think of the traditional ad-man, you're not thinking of the content strategist. The content strategy team does not get recognition or even noticed all that often. They're not the ones hosting fancy parties or whose names are written in the lobby, instead they are the the navy seals behind the scenes getting things done and over the last two years, they have become my family.

When I started at Ogilvy I had no idea what to expect and now, three years later, I can honestly say the content strategy team has far exceeded my expectations. To describe them as the best, most fun, honest, smart and caring coworkers anyone could ask for, would be a significant understatement.

We share everything from bad dates, apartment hunting, wardrobe opinions and work frustrations to relationship problems, friendship woes and even family feuds . We spend more time together than most of us do with our families (or roommates in my case) and we see each other nearly every single day. We're like our own little content family, and today was one of my family members birthdays, so I'm dedicating this post to him.

When I first joined the team, I didn't get to know Andrew very well right away. But, as time wore on, we began working together, then joking with each other in passing, then grabbing lunch at the same time, and now two years later, I can say that he is one of my good friends and someone I admire both professionally and personally. He's hilariously funny (though he'll deny it at every turn) and when he asks you a question, he's genuinely interested in hearing the answer (not alway a given these days). He's a great friend (he got me a voo-doo doll after my last break up and consistently offers his knee cap breaking services should I need them), he's my biggest baking fan, and an amazing coworker whom I'm luck to work with every day.

In honor of Andrew's birthday I baked a cake and we had a little team party (surprise of course) to spend time together away from our desks.  As I glanced around the room during the celebration I realized how close I've gotten with my team. I genuinely enjoy seeing them everyday, like knowing what's going on in their lives and love that they know everything that's going on in mine. Sometimes I complain about work or projects or hours or process but at the end of the day I feel so lucky to call the content strategy team my work family, and as my three year anniversary approaches, I know that I hit the coworker jackpot.                         

 The finished product (after many attempts)

Cake being enjoyed by all!

Some cake semantics: The cake is vanilla with chocolate buttercream (cake recipe courtesy of Sweetapolita; buttercream recipe courtesy of myself). Those of you who know me, know I'm not a big vanilla fan. I have perfected my own chocolate cake recipe and it's my go to for birthday's, graduations, etc. However, one of my coworkers doesn't like chocolate, so in an attempt to be diplomatic (and widen my recipe repertoire) I opted to make a classic vanilla cake. 

The recipe called for sifting, reverse creaming, cooling and flipping...all good things, but not at 1am on a Thursday night with two failed attempts behind you and the option of "try again another day" not an option. What happened, you ask? Well, the first layer stuck to the bottom of the pan (my fault) and the second layer was over full so the outside burnt while the inside never cooked. Cake flops aside, this was not exactly what I was looking for in my go-to vanilla cake (to match my go-to chocolate). The search for the perfect vanilla cake continues, I'll keep you informed. 

Happy weekend and of course, a very happy birthday to Andrew!

Read More

Agents to the left of me, brokers to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you

In theory, moving is a great idea. A new apartment, new furnishings, new neighborhood spots, friendly neighbors, the renewed promise of meeting your future husband in the elevator while carrying a box, and a reinvigorated take on life in the big city.  In theory, moving is a great idea.

In reality, moving is the worst idea in the history of ideas. A new apartment, a new brokers free, a new security deposit, a new set of broken lights, pipes and floorboards, a new sense of panic when you wake up in the middle of the night and have no idea where you are, a new commute, new neighbors who are far from cute (or single). Add that to the number of brokers you're forced to juggle, the INSANE number of emails flooding your inbox, the onslaught of "are you available at 1pm emails" that must be combatted with "no, I have a job", the schedule juggling, general distraction and unavoidable reality that you will have get to work early (like 7am early) to compensate for your sudden flightiness as you dash in and out of the office in an attempt to see as many apartments as possible on your "lunch" break. Like I said, moving is a great idea...in theory.

This week my roommate and I set out in search of our new home. As of July 31st we will no longer live in our charming, yet seriously flawed, upper west side brownstone apartment. I have lived in this apartment for 2 years and for all that I dislike about it, there are many things that I love. I love our quaint brick wall and the fact that we have a working fire place (even though we've never used it). I love that our windows face a quiet courtyard and that I hear birds chirping every single day. I love that our neighbor willingly kills bugs for us and that we have a pantry bigger than most suburbanites. I love that my block is one of the most coveted in the city and that I can see Central Park from my doorstep. 

Before you freak out and tell me that I should never leave this oasis, let me assure you, there are plenty of drawbacks. We have no air circulation, I mean none. None to the point where we had to have our heat shut off because even with the windows open in December, the temperature hovered around 80. One of our showers doesn't work so while we pay for 2 bathrooms, we really only have one. Every time we use the oven (yes EVERY time), the smoke alarms go off, so when we cook, we have to open the front door. In the working shower, the water turns scalding without warning, so much so that we could probably sue. I could go on and on, but that's not the point. The point is that I love my apartment, but it's time to move on. 

Now that we're on the hunt for a new home, we've been hit with the realities mentioned above. A confusing array of emails, listings, brokers, phone calls, spreadsheets (yes I've made a spreadsheet), misleading internet ads, deciphering internet scams, arguing with our parents...the list goes on. 

So far we have seen three prospective apartments. One on West 70th and Freedom Place (yes this exists) which was nice but lacked closets in either bedroom (yea, no). One on West 78th and Columbus that featured a kitchen even the most seasoned take-out orderer would gawk at, let alone two cooks. And a large prewar on West 83rd street that stopped us in our tracks.

The problem with seeing a gem like the one on West 83rd so early in your search is twofold: if you jump on it, you risk moving too quickly therefore missing out on other great apartments;  but if you don't jump on it, you risk losing the apartment and finding yourself on the "but it isn't THAT apartment" merry go round in which you compare everything to the dream apartment you let slip through your fingers. No, I'm not being dramatic at all. This is serious.

The ever-changing, overpriced world of manhattan real estate gives renters a lot to think about. When do you know that what you've seen is all there is, and when do you continue to press on in pursuit of that perfect apartment? Every place has its flaws, but what flaws can you live with?  This oddly reminds me of the questions I ask myself after a date...moving on. Knowing when to cut your losses and when to hold out is a tough balance to strike and I don't know anyone whose perfected it yet...but I'm sure gonna try.

Happy- classified reading, broker haggling, out of work dashing, late night browsing, financial analyzing, anxiety inducing- apartment hunting to me.

Until next time...

Read More

אנו עומדים עם ישראל

Count to 15. Yes, seriously. Sit there at your computer and count to 15.  Out loud, in your head, I don't care. Just count.

Done yet?

How about now?

Okay, now imagine that in the time it took you to get annoyed at me for making you count, and then to actually do the counting, your window of opportunity passed. Why? Because you really only had 15 seconds.

What could you have accomplished in those 15 seconds? Probably not much. Well, in the Eshkol region of Israel, just outside Be'er Sheva, 15 seconds is the amount of warning residents are given before a missile falls. 15 seconds. 15 seconds to realize what's going on, to stop what they're doing, to find their loved ones, and take cover. 15 seconds. You couldn't even count to 15 in 15 seconds.

For the last two weeks my family had the pleasure of hosting, and getting to know, an Israeli trauma specialist named Zohar. Zohar lives and works in the small town of Dekel, which is located just 6 miles east of the Gaza border. Zohar is a first responder whose job is to help people whose lives have been so negatively effected by trauma, that they can't continue to live normally.

Zohar and a group of 7 other Israeli women with similar jobs, had the opportunity to come to New York for 2 weeks (all expenses paid) as part of a group called "shalom yisrael". During their two weeks, they lived with host families, explored NYC, traveled to Washington DC, and for the first time in a long time- got to relax. We were lucky enough to be one of the 8 host families and our experience with Zohar is unlike any other I have had in a long time.

There were so many highlights of Zohar's trip, (for me time with her was limited to the weekends because duh, I live in the city) but for me the best part was just getting to know her. Getting to hear about her children, her time in the army, her life, her work, and above all- her love for her country. It's been twelve years since I've been to Israel, and my family doesn't have any relatives there, so while I think about Israel often, I can't say it's on my daily radar. Well if nothing else, this experience confirmed that I need to go back.

Zohar's schedule was very busy while she was here, but we tried to do as many "American" things with her as we could. We took her to get pizza, showed her the mall, introduced her to our dogs, took her to Kohls (she LOVED it), watched Secretariat on the day of the Kentucky Derby, showed her the edge of New York along the water in Larchmont, went out to dinner, and on her last night, made a campfire and roasted marshmallows to make s'mores! Nothing says America like a gooey marshmallow on a stick.
   

 From top to bottom: S'more making ingredients, Zohar enjoying her first S'more, and Zohar and I at the campfire

Everyday Zohar and her family, and the people of Eshkol, are faced with danger. Not random, 'I might get hit by a car today' danger, but real, 'the enemy lives less than a half-marathon's distance away and they have missiles', danger. Last weekend while eating breakfast I asked Zohar why she stays. Why she stays in Dekel when a city further away from the border might be safer. "It's my home" she replied, "I don't have a choice". Her response didn't surprise me, but nevertheless I told her how brave I think she is, and that I'm not sure I would do the same in her situation. She dismissed it assuring me I would. Zohar doesn't see herself as a hero, nor does she think daily rocket attacks, having a safe room in her home or mistaking thunder for missiles, is odd. To her, it is normal, it is part of her every day life and part of what makes her who she is. But to those of us who live in a place where danger is not a daily thought, these things are not normal. I've thought often over the last few weeks about what I would do in her situation. Would I stay?  Would I endure the daily uncertainty and imminent danger? I'm not sure. But I know anyone who does, is a hero to me.

 Mom, me and Zohar enjoying the campfire on her last night

Getting to know Zohar over the last few weeks, and spend more time with the Jewish community, had a profound effect on me. It reminded me of who I am and what's important. I feel so honored to have had the chance to get to know Zohar, and her amazing colleagues, and know this is just the beginning of a long friendship. 

P. S. A more uplifting post to come later this week, I promise

P.P.S For those of you who don't speak Hebrew, the title reads: We stand with Israel.

Read More

You're the Peanut Butter to my Jelly

You know those perfect nights? The ones where work ends and everything just falls into place? Nights where you find yourself walking around thinking: "Man, I like my life"? Well last night was one of those nights.

The evening started at 5pm when I dashed out of work eager to get to my 5:30 Pure Barre class. Being my mothers daughter, I had allotted the perfect amount of time to get to my destination (7 minutes) and had grand plans of taking the bus. One quick glance at my watch and an "are you en route" phone call later and I realized I'd be flagging down a little yellow box instead of riding the M11 in bliss.  So, I sauntered over to 10th avenue and whaddya know, I was in luck, a cab with its' light on (a rarity in this charming city of mine)! I immediately climbed in feeling very pleased with myself and excited at the prospect of being on time. Within 2 minutes of shutting the door, I knew I was in trouble. Cabby mcgee immediately started speaking, not to me, in a language I didn't understand and slammed on the gas. Ok I thought, he's just getting going...but no, as each light turned from crimson to green, the pedal to the medal situation intensified. Now, those of you who live in New York know that on the avenues, lights change in succession, sometimes 10 seconds apart sometimes 15, it all depends on the avenue, but ultimately they align so drivers can easily coast along to their destination without having to stop and go at each light. Well, apparently my dreamboat driver missed this memo and each time we got to a light, we screeched to a stop only to accelerate back to full speed 5 seconds later. Luckily I was only going 10 blocks, I was concerned for my life and the lives of others on the road. Check please!

Unharmed, I met up with my PIC (partner in crime, who shall be referred to many times over the course of this blog) and headed to Pure Barre. For those of you who don't know, I've been taking a workout class called Pure Barre for a few months now and I'm fully addicted. I go 4-5 times per week and when I can't make it to a class, it honestly makes me sad, yes sad.. for real, like upset. More on Pure Barre later, I could write a book on that beauty.

After class, which by the way was one of the most intense classes I've taken in a while (thanks Leslie), we hobbled to Citarella to pick up some fresh fish for dinner. Our walk up Broadway was quite uneventful, I ate a bug.  Full of protein we arrived at the fish haven of the UWS (what up Steve...Steve is my fish guy), purchased our goods and away we went. A 2 hour walk home later due to strained muscles, a stop at the ghetto grocery store in which food is thrown onto shelves without rhyme or reason, the purchasing of baking supplies and...voila, we were home. That was easy.

We promptly began dinner prep which included several near death experiences with my favorite cutco knife and a turnip. In the midst of Russian roulette, root vegetable edition, we had a visitor stop by to see our apartment. The number of F bombs dropped in the 20 minutes she was over, marks the most cursing my apartment has seen in the two years I've lived there. That coupled with the high volume of negativity surrounding New York real estate (don't worry lady, I'm not moving in a few months or anything) and I was feeling good.

A few smoke alarms (apparently cooking=fire), burnt limbs, bruised feet and a pile of vegetables later, dinner was done and it was time to get baking.

Last night's project was Peanut Butter Blossoms (peanut butter cookies with a Hershey kiss pressed in the middle- aka heaven). My sous chef was armed with ingredients and ready to go, so we pumped the jams (Whiz Kalifa Pay Phone of course) and got measuring. 3 hours, and a lot of sweat later,  I had 75 cookies rolled, baked, kissed, cooled and ready for the content strategy taste testers. Readers: please note that after baking these cookies I threw out the extra peanut butter because I can't keep it in the house (cue: i'll eat the whole jar) and then, realizing my weakness, went back to the garbage, took out the jar, poured soap in it, and threw it out again. Yes, it's that serious.

So back to the cookies- I made these a few months ago but foolishly didn't save the recipe and had not joined the life changing world of Pinterest yet, so I had to find a new recipe this time around. I scoured the internet and after some comparison settled on one I found on another baking blog, How Sweet It Is. While the result was very good, a peanutty moist cookie with a good crumble, it was VERY hard to mix the flour in and the recipe yielded almost double what it said it would so I think next time, I will try a different variation but hey- to each their own.

Here are some pictures of the cookie baking process to add a little spice to your life:

 PIC snagged a dollop before the baking began

 Hershey kisses unwrapped and ready to go

 A tray of heaven, fresh out of the oven 

The perfect Peanut Butter Blossom

Off to tackle the rest of this Thursday which includes an insane number of meetings, Pure Barre, hopefully a manicure and bed before 2 am...it isn't easy but somebody's gotta do it. Giddy up.

Read More

Taking the Plunge

Welcome friends! If you're here it means you've somehow stumbled upon my blog (let's be serious you're probably my roommate, mom or grandmother) and are looking to see what this place is all about. If I'm being honest, I've contemplated documenting my life through a blog for some time now, but have never had the courage to do so. What's held me back has been a combination of time (or lack there of), nerves and a general feeling of "who would want to read what I have to say?". Well now, after talking to friends, family and encouraging coworkers, coupled with the fact that I often overhear myself telling a story and think "is this ridiculousness real life?" I've decided to take the plunge.

"Never Enough Icing" is what I hope to one day call my bakery (yes, I aspire to own a bakery, more on that later) and I love the name so much I figured I'd stick with it. According to those close to me I live an interesting life and many of the situations I find myself in are not, despite my inner belief, common. I love to bake, I'm addicted to Pure Barre and I've been on more hilarious dates than many people twice my age.

This blog will serve as the place I go to post my favorite recipes, recount my most horrific (and often humorous) dating stories and share the daily trials and tribulations of being a 20 something in New York with absolutely no idea what tomorrow has in store.

Buckle up friends, it's not going to be a smooth ride.

Read More