It's official!

After countless conversations, years of baking, hours of agonizing, and a few pushy relatives encouragement...I'm finally doing it.  I'm turning my love of baking into a business (or at least hoping to). Starting today 'Never Enough Icing' will be taking orders to sell cakes and cupcakes to friends, family and strangers for special occasions, to satisfy a sweet craving or just to help me build my name!

For the last several years, baking has become more than just a hobby but something I truly LOVE. I love coming up with unique flavor combinations, taking on difficult decorating challenges, and designing cakes to wow my guests. Every time I bake something, people tell me- you should really sell these. Finally, I'm listening. What do I have to lose? Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

I'm going to start small, but eventually hope to turn my passion into a career. So, if anyone is looking for the perfect something sweet for their next event- I'm your gal!

Here are some pictures of my most recent confections:

Cakes

Clockwise from left: Ombre Vanilla Rosette Cake; Classic Vanilla Butter Cake;

Double Chocolate Fudge Cake; Four Tier Chocolate & Vanilla Wedding Cake

     

Cupcakes

Clockwise from left; Chocolate Salted Buttercream Cupcake; Homemade Hostess Style Cupcake; Gluten Free Double Chocolate Chip Cupcake; S'more Cupcake with Marshmallow Filling

If anyone is interested in purchasing a cake for an upcoming event, or knows anyone who is, the best way to reach me is via email at sarilewis28@gmail.com. I will work with you to customize and design your dream cake (or set of cupcakes) and we'll have fun doing it!

xoxo Sari

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Bet you didn't know....

...people used to call me the fish. Well they did, more on that later.

Working out is a commitment just like anything else. Keeping your room clean, eating healthy, going to work, staying organized. None of these things come easily but with a little dedication, and a can-do attitude, we get them done.

I've been an athlete my whole life. My love for sports started at a young age when my grandfather taught me to swim by holding onto the wall of the pool and kick-kick-kicking my legs. From that first dip in the pool I don't think anyone knew quite how big of a role swimming would play in my life, but year after year, despite injuries and pure exhaustion, I've always been grateful to my grandfather for encouraging me to swim and stick with it.

For years I was a swimmer. That was my identity. I swam before school, after school, on vacation, on command (I faced more "let's race I bet I can beat you" challenges than I can count and always won). Eventually my family started provoking strangers to challenge me, knowing my small 5 foot frame and then-scrawny arms would fool anyone into thinking they'd crush me. Suckers.

As I got older and everything changed, swimming remained a constant. Throughout high school my childhood nickname 'the fish' stayed true and as each swim meet rolled around, friends and family made it into stands whenever they could. But the one person who was always there, for every single meet- no matter how far away, what time, or what season- was my grandfather. He'd never tell me he was coming or let me know he was there, but every meet I knew he was watching. He'd sit in the back of the bleachers and after my races I'd make my way up to him. He'd put his hand on my shoulder and say the same thing every time "in that freestyle...you had me worried until the bitter end, it was like you were waiting for them to challenge you, then when you got tired of waiting you took off". It became a game- how close could I let them come only to surge at the end, pretty darn close I found out. I'm lucky that my anything-but-taught, highly unconventional, "lazy" swimmer habits never impacted me. I don't kick when I swim freestyle, ever, and I don't do alternate breathing (I always breather on the right) but nevertheless, in the pool I was untouchable.

Junior year I hurt my shoulder pretty badly in one too many IM- 100 butterfly combos, but kept it to myself for fear of being benched. We all know how this story ends...I swam injured, hurt my shoulder beyond repair, had to give up my love of laps and now feel a faint clicking every time I move my left arm. Whattadream.

The purpose of this post is not to detail my shoulder's musical talents but is instead aimed at shedding some light on why I am the way I am and how deep my relationship with athletics truly goes. People at work call me crazy because I go to a class or get a run in most days before work but the thing is, that's normal for me. I was an athlete before I was a straight-A student, or teenager, or Maryland grad or a content strategist. I was an athlete before I was anything else and even though my shoulder injury rocked me to the core (I didn't workout at all for almost the first 2 years of college,- part withdrawal, part pain, part anger) I've been able to find joy in exercise again, on dry land this time.

My swimming coach used to joke that when I ran, I was a fish out of water. I was slow, uncoordinated and had NO stamina (even though I could swim laps consistently for 3 hours). I didn't like running, didn't understand it and frankly- didn't need it. Fast forward 8 years, a shoulder injury, an NYC address (how many pools do you know of in NY? yea me too) and it's a whole different ball game. When I moved to the city 2 years ago I vowed to become "a runner". I would be one of those people, decked out in LuLu Lemon spandex and brightly colored workout tanks, gliding along Central Park West with ease. Reality: I can only run in shorts, nothing from lu lu lemon fits me right (no matter the size), and grandma-shuffle would be a better description than gliding. Recently my best friend Marlee' told me about a challenge she'd given herself (I believe from Runners World originally) to run a mile everyday. Just get out there and run 1 mile, and anything else you did is a bonus. She said she'd had 18 days of consecutive success and recommended we (my gals) all try it. Seeing as I'd already run 3 days in a row, I decided to take on the challenge and today is day 7! It's been great to have a challenge motivating me to get out there and log some miles and so far, each day, I've done more than the required mile (not by much but more is more!). I'm so excited to see how long I can keep this going and how much further I can push myself.

It's been a big change over the last few years to transition from being a swimmer and to figure out how to re-incorporate athletics into my life without the structure of a team and while I'm still learning- I'm on my way. Running is never going to be easy for me. I'm never going to be one of those people who bounces off the sidewalk and looks down only to realize they've logged 5 miles- I count each tenth of a mile- but nevertheless, I'm out there. I lace up my sneakers, put my hair on top of my head, blast my most recently downloaded pop song and I go and right now- that's good enough for me.

Mid-run in Boston a few weeks ago

Have a great weekend everyone. I'm celebrating my birthday tonight and lots of other family occassions this weekend. Stay cool, and happy running!

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A week for reminiscing

Since high school, my three best friends and I have done the same thing, every year for my birthday.

When we were younger, I had a big pool party the last week of June. It was kind of like an end-of-year milestone, Sari's pool party. Tons of people came from school, camp, the neighborhood- everyone. We would spend the day swimming, eating, and enjoying the fact that school was finally over. After the cake had been cut and the last bikini-clad pre-teen had scampered into their mom's mini van...my three best friends would stay. We would open presents, lounge in our bathing suits, eat dinner, go skinny dipping (always), watch a scary movie and have a sleep over.

As we got older, word spread to our guy friends that this was our ritual, and being 17 year old boys, hearing the words skinny dipping sent them into a tizzy. First, they made fun of us, then they begged to come- sorry, no boys allowed. Despite repeated attempts to snag invitations, we held steady on our "nope, not tonight" rule. One year, mid-skinny dip, we heard a commotion. As we looked up from the pool, in through the gate marched our guy friends, butt naked, holding a cake ablaze with candles. They sang a beautiful rendition of "happy birthday" with grins wider than the grand canyon, and upon completion simultaneously turned around to reveal the words "H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y" spelled out on their butts'. Throughout their performance, our over the top squealing (we were 17 afterall) caused the light sensor to cue a spot light on the guys, thus waking my parents. Did I mention the pool is right outside their bedroom? My dad, getting wind of the intruders, immediately yelled for them to leave. The boys immediately took off towards the gate while my mom, half asleep and wanting to get in on the action, executed quick thinking and ran to the driveway with a broom. What she was planning to do with that broom? We'll never know as the guys dove into their car (still naked) and sped off into the night before she could catch them- don't worry, they left the cake behind. Ah high school, that was one of my more eventful birthdays. 

The four of us back in high school

We've managed to keep the tradition alive all of these years through college despite getting older, engaged, moving,  etc (minus the after-dinner swimming, now we say "it's too cold"..ah to be young again) and it's one of the things I most look forward to as part of my birthday week.

Home from college for the summer; dressed up for an 80's party!

Seeing as June 20 is right around the corner, this past weekend was our infamous sleepover date. The girls arrived Saturday afternoon and after a gorgeous day spent by the pool and playing with Lia, we set off to the grocery store in search of dinner supplies. We grilled a delicious balsamic chicken, along with eggplant, portobello mushrooms and peppers and made a fresh salad with avocado, yellow tomatoes, (soy) cheese, and black olives...not to mention the two bottles of wine and skinny girl margaritas! We sat around the table for hours talking, laughing, and strolling down memory lane. It was so nice not having anywhere to go, or feeling like we had to rush home. Sleepovers are nice like that. After a quick clean up, we headed upstairs to bed at the alarming hour of 10:30 pm (we're so cool). We snuggled in, just like we always do, and fell asleep talking about what we would do differently, if given the chance. Having known each other for 10 years, we've been together through a lot. First loves, two graduations, heart breaks, going off to college, first jobs, apartments, being on our own. It hasn't been easy but most of it- none of us would change.


As I prepare to turn 25 tomorrow, I know there are a lot of things I wish I had figured out, things I wish I'd done differently, self-set milestones I've yet to accomplish but one thing I know for sure is that I wouldn't change our sleepovers for the world. While I may not have the whole love thing figured out, I'm beyond lucky to have 3 soul mates who make turning a year older, not so bad.

The four of us, at my apartment this winter.

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Honey, I'm Home!

Phew..what a crazy week it has been. Not like me to go a full 7 days without posting. But have no fear friends, I'm back and better than ever, well, maybe not better than ever- but I'm back.

Since last time, I've managed to take a trip to Martha's Vineyard, contract an annoying head cold, attend a co-op board interview, get a new puppy, be put on a pitch at work and drum roll please........be approved for our apartment!

First things first, the puppy is Leah. She is a 10 week old blue nose pit that my mom found at a shelter near our house. She was dropped off and the shelter had no room for her, so naturally..she went home with my mom and that was that. She is SERIOUSLY adorable. She's grey with white patches, has the pinkest nose in the world and seaglass colored eyes. Instant love. It's been a long time since we've had a puppy in our house- the last one was Gus and he passed away at 13 this past September. We've had lots of foster dogs come in and out but Leah is our first puppy and I'm glad she's here to say. Welcome to the nut house Leah.

I had a great trip to Martha's Vineyard last weekend with my best friend from college Martha, and her family. We arrived Saturday morning and did a whole lot of lounging. We got the biggest ice cream cones EVER at Ben and Bill's, fell asleep on the beach to newly downloaded tunes, drove around town exploring the local fare, and made an absurdly high number of completely necessary trips to Larsen's fish, swoon. It was my second time visiting them on the vineyard and I already can't wait to go back.

Happiness is Almond Joy ice cream

                                       The Bruce Vineyard House                                               Sunset over the pond

                                                                Best friends enjoying the sunset

Things are moving along at work. I've been put on my first real pitch for a company that I can't divulge, I'm so cool (not), and it's not what I expected so far but will definitely be a good learning experience. I'm getting exposure to some senior level people and getting to see how these things work firsthand. Never say no to opportunity, or try not to anyway! I'm also working on a career site redesign and that's turned out to be a pretty cool and creative process. Enough of the boring stuff.

I touched down from sunny Martha's Vineyard into rainy New York around 4pm on Tuesday, found the green machine and made my way back to NYC just in time for our 8pm co-op board interview. We got dressed up and scadaddled over to the far west side nerves running high. An hour later we emerged, less nervous but a bit more confused, and with the looming feeling we might be moving into a freshman dorm. Quiet hours anyone? Right, the interview. Well, it wasn't quite what we expected. The board was a mish-mosh of people living in the building and they all seemed super nice but some of their questions took us back, i.e. do you recycle? Clearly that was a deal breaker so naturally we said yes and upon arriving home I immediately set up a recycling system. See- now I do recycle. All in all the interview went fine but as I told my roommates dad, if it were a date I wouldn't have known to expect a second date or not. It didn't go badly, but it wasn't a hit either. Needless to say the hours dragged on as we refreshed our inboxes until finally Thursday afternoon we received official word that we were approved. What a magic word. We are now the proud renters of a beautiful 2 bedroom apartment and can't wait to move in. We've decided on a move date of June 29th since we can't move in on the weekends, oh co-ops, and we are so excited.

It's going to be a whirlwind couple of weeks as I turn 25, attend my cousins wedding, work on a pitch, pack up my apartment and move the 13 would-be-nothing-in-any-other-city-but-NewYork blocks. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Wishing everyone a happy father's day, happy summer, happy day's are longer, happy enjoy the weather weekend. Next time I write, I'll be a quarter century old. Be jealous.

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The Cupid Shuffle

For anyone whose ever dreamt of moving to New York with the hope of fostering a fabulous single girl life reminiscent to that portrayed in sex and the city; think again. In fact, think many times again.

Before I shock you with what I'm about to write, please know that none of this comes from a mean place, it doesn't come from an angry place or a place of negativity, it's comes from a place of discovery as this is what I've found in my travels and above all that- it's just the gosh darn truth. I know that these feelings and observations do NOT represent all guys out there and that I've just had the unfortunate luck of encountering more than my fair share, but that being said, this is my blog and these are my experiences and I promised when I started this to be honest, so I'm going to be.

Fact: Dating in New York is the worst, most frustrating, self-deprecating, exhausting, extracurricular activity I've ever involved myself in. I don't say this to be dramatic or over the top, I say it because it's true. Dating in New York is like slamming your head against a wall five times, getting cut each time but then doing it again and expecting different results. Just stop slamming your head against the wall and you won't get cut. Simple right? One would think. But here's the thing, after each cut heals and the hello kitty band-aid is thrown out with yesterday's overly priced organic produce, I stand up to bat and once again slam my head against the wall thinking this time, I won't get cut. When will I learn? Better be soon cuz I'm running out of band aids.

Now don't get me wrong I've had friends who've had good dating luck in this backwards city I call home. Those who've moved here or broken up with long-time college boyfriends only to relatively quickly stumble upon a great guy and foster a seemingly normal relationship. But trust me- they are the exception. They are the exception, and I'm the rule.

I'm the girl who goes on 1, 2, 3, sometimes even 4, great dates with seemingly normal guys only to have some all-telling conversation or come-to-jesus moment at which point it's revealed that all of this wonderfulness and the assumption of maturity, is in fact false or all in my head because, at the end of the day, I'm a great girl but they just don't know what they want (gee thanks, I wasn't aware I was a great girl, glad I've got your seal of approval). Sometimes it takes longer, case in point my last stroll down dysfunctional lane, where I stood by for 6 months trying to fix what was broken in the hopes that my patience and unyielding understanding would cause a lightbulb to go off in his head. Note to self and other interested parties: it won't matter what you do and if it's broke, you can't fix it. But usually, by date #4 it's pretty clear we're taking a nose dive towards negative town.

Now before you jump on me and call me negative nancy, which if you know me- know I'm not. Let me assure you that I've spent a great deal of time thinking about all of this (probably more than I'd like to admit but likely not more than others reading these ramblings) and analyzing what exactly is at play. And, while I've gone down the "something is wrong with you" road one too many a sangria-glasses,  it's finally become clear that this apathy towards progress and the utter refusal to take a chance on anyone, is a widespread problem, and GASP, it's not just me. I've therefore concluded that between the years of 1982 and 1987 there was something in the water that stripped men born in that time of the ability to grow up and make decisions for themselves. Harsh? Potentially. True? Undoubtedly.

Most 20-something men that I've had the pleasure of dating (and some 30 somethings, yikes) have this ever-present fear that every girl they date is just dying to lock them down. Now, let me be clear because I'm only going to say this once- we're not. We, just like you, have no idea what we want and the only way any of us is going to find out, is if we get over our fear and take a chance. Sounds logical right? One would think. Yet, time and time again, this proves impossible. I've repeatedly had experiences and listened to friends recount stories in which perfectly good budding romances have come to a screeching halt because the guys (incorrectly and prematurely) assume we're ready to walk down the aisle- whoa, slow down buddy I just asked if you wanted to get ice cream.

It's as if guys are so afraid of getting locked into a relationship, that they've forgotten that we're all in this together. At the end of the day we're all doing this for the same reason- to find out who we are, what we like, what we want and shocker IF this could go anywhere. What I want to know is, if we're so opposed to the idea of a relationship upfront before we even truly get to know someone, how will we ever fall in love?

I look back at my parents and grandparents generations and I'm envious. There was none of this "What do I want?", "Have I accomplished this yet?" "Who am I" business. You lived your life! You went to school, you got a job, you spent time with family, you had friends, you met someone, you got to know them, if it was right you got married, if it wasn't, you started again. It wasn't a big deal, it's just what happened. People didn't spend time thinking about whether or not they wanted to be in a relationship or if they were ready. People didn't question whether or not they wanted to build a relationship with someone, because that's what you did.

Yet this generation, to which I was so fortunately born (cue sarcasm), has a different take on life. While some see our views as progressive, I see them as unfortunate. Why, you ask? Because I'm old fashioned, an old soul, and to be old fashioned in a new age is pretty much the worst. It means many failed attempts at cutless head slamming, tears, cursing, frustrations, countless why-do-I-even-bothers all the while taking you back to the realization that you are who you are, and that's someone a bit different from others your age. You're someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to take a leap of faith in pursuit of finding it. You're someone who's had her heart broken, a lot, but gets back out there anyway because maybe, just maybe, next time it won't suck. You're someone who knows what matters to you and what isn't worth worrying about. You're someone with values and who loves to have fun and who has a lot to offer. So then why, after each of these failed wall slammings, do you feel so defeated? I guess that's the nature of the game.

At the end of the day, I'm proud of who I am. I have a strong personality and I have no difficulty making decisions. I'm not one to waver and sometimes that intimidates people. But that's ok. In my last relationship I lost sight of my strength. I compromised who I was for someone else. I changed for fear of losing someone I thought I wanted and in turn, I lost myself. I'm not going down that dirt road again, I just finished cleaning the pebbles out of my shoe. So instead, I'm going down a new road. A road with quite a few hills and maybe less of a view but it's a road i'm proud of. I know that somewhere out there is a guy who will be awed by my ridiculousness. Someone who will see my determination as a positive thing, not negative. Someone who will look at me and see all of the good that I know I have to offer and embrace it. Ok, so it might take me longer than everyone else, but that's ok.

So happy Friday blogobites. Have a great weekend, and please, don't drink the water.

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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.

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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.

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