Apartment Update: Living Room

Posted on May 15, 2013 by emily

It has been two month since I moved into my tiny new apartment. While the last several weeks have been an exhausting mix of moving, furniture assembly, organization and more trips to Target than I expected, it’s been so fun turning this space into my home. I told you all that I was going to learn some tricks from an interior designer, but that didn’t work out so I’m going it alone. I was disappointed at first, but it’s made for more of an adventure. I can now also claim that I did this all by myself, and I’m really happy and proud of the (nearly) finished product. To add to the challenge, I am working on a very tight budget. All this is not to say that I don’t have a lot more to do, but here’s an update on all that I have been up to.

You all remember the before shot of the main room:

Empty Apartment

And here is the after:

Please remember I didn’t really have any furniture (I sold it all when I moved from NYC to Boston). I showed up on Beacon Hill with the wing chair, ottoman and piano bench that I upholstered, but that’s about it. As a result, I was able to build the entire room (one of the two in the apartment) around those items, specifically my beloved chair. I focused on navy, white and pink for the room.

The table and chairs in my kitchen came from my grandmother’s house (by way of my aunt’s basement). Thankfully the table is the perfect size for the small kitchen, but has two additional leaves embedded in the table I can use for dinner parties.

I had been dreaming of a navy velvet sofa (Did you know that Jonathan Adler has a line at JC Penney?), but decided to go neutral because this isn’t my “forever home,” and who knows where I will be (or with whom) in a year or two. I fell in love with the brass nail heads of the Vaughn sofa from Boston Interiors, and the price was right. The folks at Boston Interiors were so nice and left me along to waffle between a few styles for nearly and hour while entertaining my fellow shoppers by face-timing with my mother throughout the showroom.

With that purchase made, I was able to have fun with the rug. I picked this trellis pattern in navy and white. I was this close to choosing a chevron pattern for the floor, but I think chevron’s moment in the trendy sun is just about over. Instead, I picked a chevron pillow. I figured it was less of an commitment. I’m pairing that with a Kim Salmela pillow that ties in the trellis of the rug, with an ethnic print (reminiscent of the ikat of my upholstered bench) with pink welting in a shade close to that on my chair and ottoman. It was my own personal design hat-trick.

The wing chair has been in constant use since I moved in, and it really needed a companion in the form of a little end table. I found this brass one at Home Goods, but you can find similar one at Create & Barrel. I love brass, and because of the sofa’s nail heads I decided to overlook the mirrored top. Not in love with that part of it, but flowers help soften the look for me.

I own some lovely pieces of art, but nothing large scale enough to work above the couch, so I decided to try a gallery wall made up of some of the items I love most (prints, photos of dear friends, a map of London, a favorite New Yorker cover, a pen and ink by my talented brother, and an original Loose Parts cartoon that’s an inside family joke) plus two small sun mirror to add some much-needed texture.

My gallery wall

I went through the entire process by cutting out newspaper to the specifications of my frames, hung them on the wall, and then stared at it from different spots in the room for an hour or so to make sure I liked the arrangement. Putting the whole wall together took more time than I expected, but I’m pretty happy with the end product. I’m looking for one more item with some texture for the upper left corner. If you have a suggestion please send it my way!

I’ve held off having an official housewarming party because I want the space to be “done” before I have people over. In the past I’ve offered advice to friends who are decorating to cut themselves some slack, don’t rush the decorating process, and take time to see how they use the space before committing. I haven’t been able to take that advice to heart. I’ve been stressed about the shade of blue on a pillow, and a back ordered coffee table sent me into a tailspin (speaking of which, I now think I’ll be getting this Lucite one from CB2 so that it visually disappears into the room).

I seem to be projecting a lot of my feelings about myself onto my apartment. I only want my friends—and you—to see it when it was finished and perfect! I finally did have two girlfriends over for wine a week ago, and I was prepared to explain why this or that was not complete, or when the patio furniture is arriving (next week, just in time for summer), but I didn’t need to explain the state of my apartment to them. They loved it—the work in progress that it is—just as they love me (also a work in progress). When will I learn?

Next week the apartment tour continues in my bedroom where my craftiness was pushed to its limits. Stay tuned.

American (Alone) in Paris

Posted on April 25, 2013 by emily

I am slowly adjusting to East Coast time as my fair city slowly tries to get back to normal after last Monday’s senseless violence and the terrifying manhunt that followed. As many of you read last week, I was watching closely from afar, and my friends and family in Boston were constantly on my mind while I was in Europe.

Hello London!

I hadn’t thought of this vacation of mine as an “adventure,” and had not planned to write about it, but as it approached, and I told people my plans, I started to realize that other people thought it was an adventure. I would fly into London to visit a dear friend and head to Paris on my own for several days in the middle of the week, before returning to London for a few more days. It sounded heavenly to me. But the fact that I was traveling to Paris alone seemed to give some people pause. I heard a few “You’re so brave,” and a handful of “I could never do that.”

Could I do that? I never thought that I couldn’t travel by myself, but hearing others’ doubts allowed some of my own to creep in. I had done my research; I had consulted with friends and co-workers who had spent time in Paris, I had rented a flat in La Marais (a neighborhood that stretches across the 3^rd and 4^th arrondissments that I would compare to the Lower East Side) through airbnb in the hopes of having a more authentic Parisian experience. I had been there before and already checked all the bucket list items off, so I didn’t really have an agenda; I just wanted to wander around, sip wine at cafés and absorb Paris.

Plus, the idea of exploring Pairs on my own felt very mature. It seems like something that an independent 30-something would do. I felt empowered just thinking about it.

Flamme de la Liberte

When I arrived in Paris I was filled with excitement. I navigated my way from the train station to my flat, greeted it’s owner in my barely conversational French and set out on foot to start my Parisian adventure. I visited the Cathedral of Notre Dame and the Latin Quarter then settled into a cafe to enjoy dinner. I tried to tell my waiter that my meal was delicious, but it seems he thought I said desert. The crème brulee was delicious as well.

My second day in Paris was one of those rare perfect days: it was 72 degrees and not a cloud in the sky…the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. I walked along the Seine, stopping at the Louvre, walked along the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, then across the river to the Eiffel Tower. I found a bench in the Jardin des Tuileries and read a book by a fountain in the sun (and managed to get totally sunburned in the process).

Arc de Triomphe

But after six hours of looking at beautiful sights, but not saying more than “Bonjour” to anyone, I started to feel a little lonely. I couldn’t figure out if the language barrier was to blame for my feelings of isolation, or if it was the reality that I was in fact isolated in a foreign land…totally alone. When I saw or read something interesting there was no one to turn to and say, “Boy, that’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” I got turned around a few times on the narrow, winding streets of La Marais, and that only amplified my feeling of isolation. I would like to be able to say that it was out of bravery, but it was really out of desperation that I emailed a friend of a friend whom I had never met and asked if she wanted to grab a drink that night. As an ex-pat who had been in Paris about a year and a half, I hoped she could recall her first days in the city and take pity on me.

She brought me to a French reggae concert. There I mingled and danced (actually it was more like bouncing) with Parisian Rastafarians. This time there was no language barrier; the music was so loud I could have been speaking Chinese for all anyone could tell. It was cool, adventurous and spontaneous — and I had a blast.

As I walked back to my flat after the show I felt that sense of empowerment that I thought this trip would bring me. While that feeling was fleeting — I got lost and had to ask a drunk man who may or may not have been homeless for directions – I felt it!

By the time I headed back to London the follow afternoon I was ready to rejoin my friends and have a conversation made up of more than six words. I’m not sure I want to travel totally alone in the future. I think I prefer to share those experiences with someone (there’s a metaphor for life hiding in there, isn’t there?).

But I know that I can do it, and I am proud of myself for trying.

Selfie on the Metro

Love is in the Air

Posted on March 27, 2013 by emily

I love weddings…the romance, toasts, champagne and dancing. I don’t even need to know a couple that well to well-up as they walk down the aisle. And while I have not had luck (yet) playing matchmaker for myself, I do love trying to connect people in the hopes that they could be a good match for each other. While I don’t have an impressive track record, my heart is certainly in it, and so I thought it was worth seeing if I can develop the skills to be a matchmaker.

I knew that if I want to improve my cupid batting average I would need the advice of an expert. Lucky for me, arguably the most prolific matchmaker in the country agreed to meet with me. Forget Patti Stanger; Janis Spindel is the original Millionaire Matchmaker (and as she points out, there is a big difference between matchmaking and a dating service). Janis is a matchmaker, author and has been featured in the New York Times, the Boston Globe and ABC News.

Janis Spindel

Janis and I met in a cozy corner of a hotel lobby on the East Side of Manhattan. Although we were tucked away in a corner, Janis kept looking around, scanning the room. I quickly realized why: America’s number one matchmaker is constantly looking for people to match. Constantly. She is always working. And for her, working means approaching and meeting hundreds of men and women each day.

Janis began her business almost 20 years ago after her amateur matching skills resulted in 14 marriages in eight months. Yes, you read correctly. While those couples were made up of friends of hers, now she finds individuals to match anywhere and everywhere…strangers she met around town…in the nail salon…wherever. She now has over a thousand successful relationships and marriages. She estimates that she gives out 250 business cards each and every day.

Janis has been described as a force of nature, and it’s an apt description. She speaks a mile a minute and her sentences are punctuated with emphatic enthusiasm that can become contagious (“He is gorgeous…GORGEOUS”). Pair that with her frequent head jerks in the direction of any potential new client who walks in the room, and you wonder how she can apply this level of constant energy to her job, in addition to her life at home with her husband of 30 years and two daughters.

But as she told me, her job is her passion, so it doesn’t really feel like a job. With that, I knew why I liked her immediately.

While she originally had both male and female clients, now Janis works exclusively with men who pay hundreds of thousands of dollar for her to help them find wives. And about that she is clear; her clients need to be in it to win it with marriage on the mind. “I get people married! Plain and simple,” she has said. And to that end, she does her research: Janis goes out to eat with each prospective client so she can research what they may be like on a date. She will also help them prepare to meet Ms. Right: she has a stylists on staff if a new wardrobe is deemed necessary, and will connect a client with a dentist if his pearly whites need to be more…well…pearly white.

She is also constantly introducing herself to women (they can also fill out a questionnaire on her website to be considered for matching. I did it, it’s painless.) to evaluate whether they would be a good match for one of her clients. Plus, attractive women have attractive friends she says. Same goes for men. If someone is attractive and successful — even if they are already taken — Janis hypothesizes that his friends will be as well. She has built up an astounding network of singles, and she is constantly adding to that pot.

I wondered how she sizes people up so quickly. Janis told me that her grandmother was clairvoyant, and she has some of the same intuition about people. She is able to immediately asses if an individual would be a good match for one of her clients. She also relies on similarities in backgrounds and interests to inform her matches: religion, education and parents’ marital status are a few examples.

As I would assume happens during most of Janis’ conversations, our chat began with me interviewing her, but it ended up with her interviewing me. Why did I leave New York (I get this a lot from New Yorkers)? What am I looking for in a man? We talked about online dating (which, for the sake of full disclosure, I did try for a hot second, but quit after meeting only two guys. One kept referencing getting (him, not me) into bikini shape for summer, the other was super nice, but all we talked about was Will Farrell movies and his paraplegic triathlons.) Janis is a “HUGE promoter of online dating,” she told me. “Remember it just takes one…and you never know.” She has even launched her own online site. You can check it out here.

So armed with insight from Janis I will now set out to set up! I have a few brave souls who have already volunteered to make up one half of some great future couples. If you are interested in being my guinea pig…umm…I mean the beneficiary of my new-found matchmaking skills, please let me know! I will fill you all in later on how I – and they – do.

And in light of the cases that the Supreme Court is considering this week, I feel the need to be explicit that I would be honored to attempt to also match individuals who are looking for a partner of the same gender, because I believe that everyone deserves the right to marry who they love.

Thank you to Janis Spindel for taking the time to meet with me. She really is a force of nature and if anyone can find your match, it’s her. You can learn more about her services on her website, you can also connect with her on Facebook and Twitter. I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Packing Up and Coming Clean

Posted on March 6, 2013 by emily

I know you are all anxiously awaiting for Part II of my Kenneth Jay Lane interview (you can read Part I here). So am I. But we will all have to wait another week for that masterpiece…because my life got in the way. I have been beating myself up about this, until a friend convinced me (with some tough love) that I should just come clean with you.

I am in the process of moving. I have been packing, moving, organizing and stressing over the past few weeks and have not been able to devote the time and energy to this blog that I usually do, and certainly not the amount that I want in order to write about my fascinating conversation with Mr. Lane. I hold myself, and this blog, to a very high standard and I am simply unwilling to compromise that. So I am not going to rush it, I will take my time to deliver you what I always strive for: creative, original and engaging content.

So this week I am going to share a different type of “adventure” with you. It’s moving in Boston. It’s a scary and anxiety-producing process that millions of people experience, but one that I did not fully appreciate until the last several weeks.

All my previous apartment hunts have been in Manhattan, where (for better or worse) you can see dozens of places one day and move into one the next. In Boston, the prices are comparable to rents in The City, but the inventory is not. Most leases are up in September (thanks to all those darn students) so searching in February means few options and a lot of competition. Factor in a condensed moving timeline (just five weeks) and its a recipe for one stressed-out lady. For weeks I scoured the internet for leads and by the time I called, the apartment (which wasn’t all that amazing to begin with) was inevitably “just rented.” It reminded me of whale watching: a whale is “spotted” so you run to the bow of the boat, just to be told that that you “just missed it.” Was it ever really there?

My search was punctuated by late-night anxious phone calls to friends and family, tears, one near rental of the type of trendy hovel now described as “micro apartments” that are invading Boston and New York (I like to be efficient, just not if it means living in less than 300 sq. ft.) and one emotional fender bender during which my victim inquired if I was a sleep-deprived new mother BECAUSE THAT IS HOW INSANE I MUST HAVE APPEARED. Seriously, that happened. While desperately searching for a sliver lining to this chaotic process, I did realize that I’m just one apartment hunt shy of my goal weight, so at least there’s that.

This would have been my “micro apartment.” And yes, that is just about all of it

While my past adventures documented here have helped me become more comfortable with trying new things without fear of failure, my moving experience showed me that I’m still not very good at asking for help. I seem to think I should be able to do everything on my own. While that is a great quality for an independent woman like me to possess, I need to know how, and when, to wave the white flag and call in reinforcements. I am always willing to help my friends with anything at the drop of a hat; I have to allow them to do the same for me.

I did get better at accepting assistance by the time it came to carrying boxes (and more trash bags full of clothes than I care to admit) up three flights of stairs to my new place. And as it turned out, my friends were essential to guard my upholstered chair on a Beacon Hill curb when passersby started circling like vultures, thinking my possessions were out there for the taking. I even had to chase one woman down the street after she swiped a framed print of mine, claiming she thought it was trash.

I am physically moving over two weekends, so I’m smack-dab in the middle of that process right now. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m emerging from my stress spiral and starting to get excited about this next chapter in my cute new place. This will be the first time I have ever lived alone, so that will bring with it a host of new experiences and emotions. Best of all, I will be decorating the space exactly how I like. I plan to bring you along on that adventure; In the coming weeks I will be spending time with an interior designer and taking the lessons I learn and applying them to my space, so stay tuned for those posts.

This is my (currently empty) new home, I can’t wait to make it my own.

It has been a very stressful time, but with a little help from my friends (and the Beatles) I am almost done, and I will be able to bring you a thoughtful, high quality post about the fabulous Kenneth Jay Lane next week.

Put Me In Coach

Posted on January 30, 2013 by emily

Making changes in one’s life is not always easy. When I was living in New York, the thought of leaving news and The City was terrifying to me. I wanted desperately to move to Boston (I was burnt out from life in journalism. And after working nights, weekends and holidays for years, I wanted to concentrate on my life, not just my career), but fear kept me treading water for months. After what seemed a lifetime, and with the support of my family and my amazing friends, I was able to make the leap: not only to a new job, but also to a new career, and a new city. After moving to Boston I was finally able to exhale. I was able to make this huge change in my life largely on my own, but it took me a while.

When it comes to professional challenges I have no problem springing into action and getting things done, and done well. I set up action items everyday at work and have a distinct sense of satisfaction crossing items off that to-do list. When making changes in my personal life, on the other hand, I am less action oriented. Why is that? Is it because I think everything will fall into place organically? That’s what everyone always says, “Everything will work itself out.” That’s a really nice thought, but it only makes sense that I should have to work at things in my personal life the same way I have to work at things in professional life.

I bring this up, not to wallow in self-indulgent reflection, but to explain my motivation for reaching out to a life coach for this blog. I thought meeting with a life coach then seeing if I could help someone else solve a problem in his or her life would be an interesting experiment. But after speaking with the extremely helpful James Singleton, I realized that being a life coach is not something to be taken on capriciously. So while I started out thinking this would be one of my typical adventures, it turned out to be an adventure in a more unexpected way.

James was born to be a life coach. His father and grandfather were both ministers, so counseling people through challenging times comes naturally to him. During college, classmates were always asking his advice on issues they were facing, both academic and personal. He says he thought everyone was asked for advice the way he was. He soon learned that is not the case.

James Singleton

Several years ago James started attending life coaching workshops, taking classes and shadowing well-known life coach Cheryl Richardson. He established his own business, Insightful Voice, in September of 2011. As James explained, life coaches help their clients establish where they are now and where they want to go in their life. James begins by determining if he is best suited to help a prospective client, or if they would be better served by a therapist (a very important distinction it seems to me).

James’ niche is transitions. He explained that often clients come to him with a specific goal that they want help achieving, then they work together to establish “a road map” to move forward. What most surprised me was that each of James’ sessions end with the establishment of action items and measures of success. This is not just you whining about your life, James listening, and you walk out feeling unburdened. James is going to work hard, and so are you. And you will walk out with homework.

I started out listening to James talk about a typical life coaching session, but before long we were talking about me and what I want in my life. Go figure. James is an exceptional listener, and easy to talk to (especially for someone who doesn’t always like talking about themselves).

This is when I knew this “adventure” would not be a typical one for me. While I do share a variety of experiences with all of you, I typically don’t get too personal. I may be a rarity in the blogging world: I don’t like to talk about myself all that much. So I try ridiculous things to make you laugh…without getting too deep. As we were discussing (or as I was trying not to discuss) some of my goals, James made a staggering observation that was so on-target that I am now ready to believe he is the best life coach (or psychic) who ever walked the earth! James asked me if I was not expressing what I really want out of fear. Fear that I would feel exposed…unable to pretend my life is not already perfect. BINGO!

That’s when I came clean and said I wanted to continue writing this blog, maybe adapt it into a book (It sounds so much better when other people tell me they see a book in my future. Saying it myself seems immodest or gauche). And then words flew out of my mouth before I even had time to think about then…I told him that I wanted to meet someone who loved me the way Barack loves Michelle! Yes, I said those exact words and yes, speaking them did suddenly make both of those things seem more real and my desire for them more acute.

James and I continued to talk, we discussed what may be holding me back and went through some exercises I should do to work towards achieving my not so modest goals. This is where the light bulb went off in my head. I could finally reconcile the way I like to operate in my professional life with my personal life. I had action items! I am nothing if not a girl who loves a to-do list and suddenly I had one.

So after getting a first-hand look at life coaching, I have decided not to try this job personally. I learned that life coaching can be very important resource and tool in peoples’ lives and to trivialize it doesn’t seem appropriate. I feel as if this post also represents me coming clean with all of you, my readers. Although it’s not in my nature, I will try to share more of myself with you on a more regular basis and see where it leads. Maybe every once in a while my posts will be a bit different; personal adventures in addition to the physical ones. This may make me uncomfortable at times, but I hope it helps me to continuously move forward in my life, and I hope it is appreciated by — or at least entertaining to — you.

I still hope that one day you will find The Great Wide Open on a bookstore shelf (er..I mean on amazon.com or on your favorite tablet) and I do want to find someone to love me the way Barack loves Michelle, but now, thanks to James, I have some action items to go along with those rather vague, yet utterly romantic, proclamations.

I can’t thank James Singleton enough for taking the time to talk with me about life coaching…and talking with me about myself. While James is Boston-based, he sees clients around the country. You can learn more about his services on his website, insightfulvoice.com.

What a Year!

Posted on January 23, 2013 by emily

This week I celebrated not only my birthday, but also the one-year anniversary of the re-booted The Great Wide Open. It was one year ago this week that I pledged to try a job or activity each and every week, and share the experience with you. That’s 52 weeks of new – sometimes awkward, sometimes funny, always enlightening – experiences that have taught me about myself and what I want out of life.

Some have asked if this blog is a mid-life crisis (please note, I may be one year older, but I am very far from middle aged). If it is, then I have to think it’s one of the healthiest crises one could have. In the last year I have taken risks, totally embarrassed myself and reveled in it, and gained some precious new skills – including upholstery…and the ability to laugh at myself.

For those of you who joined The Great Wide Open train late in the year, here are some of my favorite adventures (with links so you can catch up); they are experiences that taught me very valuable lessons:

I am terrible at the trapeze. I should not run off and join the circus. But I realized if there’s one thing (and of course there is only one) I’m not good at, it’s o.k. if it’s flying through the air butt up. I also learned that when I stop trying to be perfect, I am able to accomplish more than I thought possible.

I learned that if you can keep a straight face while blowing glass than you have a chance at success.

I learned there is really no way to look cute in a bee keeping suit.

While synchronized swimming is often the butt of Olympic jokes, it’s actually pretty challenging…and only slightly ridiculous.

Getting to know your roots can make you feel grateful…and sore.

Probably the most important lesson from this past year was that all of the thrilling, heartbreaking and challenging things I have experienced have made me the person I am today, and these experiences will continue to shape me. My life may not be what I expected it to be when I was in high school, but it’s an exciting and dynamic life, and one that I would not trade.

Just as important as the lessons I have learned, are the people who I have met on this journey. Dozens of talented individuals have opened their homes, offices, workshops and studios to me and shared their passion for everything from fencing to tending to wounded birds. Some have been friends or family, but the vast majority have been strangers. They love what they do and love to share that with others. Like me, they are following their passion. Much to my envy, many are make a living from that passion. What a gift that is. These people make this blog possible. And it’s because of them — and the experiences they enable me to have — that when looking back on this last year, instead of feeling old, I feel young. I feel as if I could do anything I put my mind to…and I guess this blog is proof that it is true.

Adultish

Posted on January 1, 2013 by emily

Nothing makes me feel as old, or as young, as spending Christmas at home. Maybe it’s being back in Philadelphia, maybe it’s the nostalgia of the Christmases of years past, and perhaps it’s the fact that my father gets downright giddy around Christmas. It’s quite literally his favorite time of year. While it’s understood – yet never discussed – that my brother and I now know that Santa is not real, our family has been adopted by an elf named Rupert. Rupert helps my parents “make” goodies for my brother and I. My dad frequently calls me when “Rupert” has a question about a new iphone, or when there is a color discrepancy on the part of Rupert’s workshop where the J Crew sweaters are knit. Rupert’s existence illustrates how much my parents, not to mention I, love the child-like wonder of Christmas still.

Another reason I love heading home for the holidays is the fact that I get to see family and friends who I don’t get to see as often as I once did. This year, with these reunions came tons questions about this blog. Some love it and some don’t quite understand it. I heard a lot of, “So how long will this go on?” and “What are you going to do once you find what you are looking for?”

To be honest, I didn’t have terribly good answers for them. I have not exactly thought through how long I will be on this journey, or what I will do when I find my next passion in life.

All these questions pushed me into a state of self-reflection and a little bit of doubt. What am I doing? Is this whole thing totally childish? Once I find something that I am passionate about, what am I going to do, quit my job and become a glass blower full-time? Doubtful, but who knows. Have I let narcissism — disguised as a witty blog – take over my life? Or is it actually the opposite: am I am living my life (fully engaged in my life, as my mother describes it) in a spirited way and sharing it with perfect strangers for (hopefully) their entertainment?

Sometimes I still feel like this little girl

This dichotomy is not unlike my life itself. I have shiny empowering moments when think to myself, “Wow, I am totally an adult.” I also have sad little moments when I still feel like a seven-year old on roller-skates in a tutu. These moments can range from a bad day at work that leaves me bemoaning to my parents, to a moment of recognizing the ridiculous as I struggle to keep my head above water while learning synchronized swimming. I call this purgatory that I vacillate between the state of being “adultish.”

I wonder sometimes if I am the only human on the planet who feels adultish. Maybe it’s the product of the sociology of my generation of having a prolonged adolescence. But I’ve done some research, and it seems that most of those theories are generally applied to man/boys, so I don’t think I have that as an excuse.

Maybe trying all these different things is less a sign of immaturity, and more a signal that I am taking control of my life, and working to discover what I am passionate about, in a very mature – albeit humorous — way.

I once asked my dad when he finally felt like an adult. I thought his answer might be the day I was born, or when his parents passed away. Those seem like joyous and heartbreaking milestones that would press one into self-examination and maturity. But to my delight, my dad replied without missing a beat, “I’ll let you know when that day comes.”

And so I take a page from of his book; I’ll keep taking on these crazy adventures in this new year; I’ll search for what I am passionate about, and I will let you know when I become an adult. ‘Til then, I will revel – both on these pages and in my non-blog life — in being adultish.

Time Out

Posted on December 18, 2012 by emily

The past few days have been heart-wrenching not just for the community of Newtown, Connecticut, but the entire country. Last week I promised my retail post, but I had hoped you would find that adventure funny, and in light of last Friday’s tragic events, it seems a little too soon to laugh. So I am taking a momentary time out, please indulge me.

Since 20 innocent children — and six adults who dedicated their lived to teaching and caring for them — were gunned down by a clearly sick young man, there has been an outcry to re-examine our country’s gun control laws. There have also been dozens of heart-breaking images of frantic parents waiting to hear word of their children, terrified children being led from the school that was once a place of happiness, and a grief-ridden community ripped apart in a hail of bullet.

As a former journalist I usually gobble up details of big news stories, wishing to be back in the center of the action. Not this time. I have been actively staying away from the onslaught of coverage. I don’t want to know all the details of this story; they are just too terrible.

Some have said this is the time for a serious discussion about gun control. Some say this is not; instead it’s a time to grieve the innocent victims. Why can’t it be both?

It’s true that the guns used in this massacre were purchased legally by the murderer’s mother, so in some ways, no background check or waiting period could have prevented him from getting his hands on these weapons. It’s also true that the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence ranks Connecticut’s gun laws as some of the strictest in the nation. But does anyone really need these types of weapons? And all those bullets? Police sources say the shooter had hundreds of rounds of ammunition.

To think about the lives cut short can be physically painful. It has brought us all – including our President — to tears. To look at their pictures, with their bright eyes and big smiles, it’s hard not to think about what they would have done in the future, whom they would have become, all the joy they would have brought to their parents, siblings, friends and community. Wouldn’t the best way to honor these victims be to take a good hard look at our country’s gun control laws and work towards some common sense and practical procedures that can protect innocent people from tragic gun violence like that happened last Friday in Newtown? I hope so.

I’ll be back later this week to make you laugh, as soon as I stop crying.

Photo courtesy of Joshua Lott/Reuters

I decided not to use the shooters name in the post because I did not want to immortalize him, or give him any recognition.

This Time Adventure Found Me

Posted on December 12, 2012 by emily

This week, I had every intention of writing about my experience working retail during the holiday season (and I hope to have that post up in the next day or so), but this week got a little busy and a lot crazy. As it turns out, this week was not about one of my self-inflicted adventures, instead adventure found me…in Seymour, Indiana.

What? You’ve never heard of Seymour? Well that’s ok, neither had I. To give you a better sense of where we’re talking about, if you draw a triangle between Louisville, Cincinnati and Indianapolis, Seymour would be right in the middle. That still doesn’t help? Well, then you have a geography block similar to mine, at least when it comes to the middle of this country.

I traveled to Seymour for work with a colleague and after a long day of flights and scouting locations for the next day’s shoot, we checked into our hotel. We ventured up to the second floor where our rooms were, and there in the hallway we saw three police officers, one of whom had a menacing looking machine gun. As soon as I saw them I turned around to head back down the hallway towards the elevator, but the officers waved us past them towards our rooms. They didn’t say a word, but one held his index finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. How could we be expected to be quiet with a machine gun in such close proximity?

cop cars 2

I had no idea what was going on, nor why they wanted us to keep walking, but they were cops so I did as I was told. My colleague and I went into our respective rooms, right across the hall from each other, and just two doors down from the one the officers were surrounding. This was bizarre to say the least. When I got into my room I stayed close to the door so I could hear what was going on in the hallway. The officers were trying to coax a man, we’ll call him “Bobby,” out of his room (I have changed his name in case he reads this, I don’t want him coming to Boston to get me). At one point I definitely heard a dog in the hall.

As if ripped from the pages of a sitcom script, my colleague and I were texting, while simultaneously Facebooking a blow-by-blow narrative of the standoff just feet away. After I asked if bullets could pass through multiple walls, My colleague texted the suggestion that I should get down on the ground. So I did. And there I stayed…for the next 45 minutes. They kept talking to Bobby, trying to engage him in some sort of negotiation, but it seemed Bobby was not in the mood to chit-chat.

Why the hotel staff did not evacuated the building is completely beyond me. At the very, very least, the folks at the front desk should have warned us not to go up to our rooms! I started to get worried that if something serious happened, and if this stand-off ended badly, I would be caught in the crossfire. Was I going to die in the middle of Nowheresville, Indiana…face-down on the carpet of a Holiday Inn Express? What an absolutely depressing end to this blog — not to mention my life. I have a lot more to do and write about!

After what seemed an eternity, we received word from the lobby that things were business as usual down there, so I quickly picked myself up off the ground and sprinted down the hallway, past the police officers, who were still armed, and still motioning for me to be quiet. I have lived in big cities on the East Coast all my life, so it never occurred to me that small town police are less like “COPS” and more like “Reno 9-1-1.” Just bust the door in already and get Bobby out!

The reports from the lobby were correct, people were enjoying their complimentary drinks and snacking on peanuts while watching an increasing number of officers — some with riot shields and gear — parade into the hotel and up to the second floor, all in an effort to convince Bobby to open his door.

riot gear

We left to get dinner, and by the time we returned Bobby had been arrested. I later found out he was wanted for attempted murder. Yes, ATTEMPTED MURDER! They had a would-be murderer two doors down from me and they didn’t think to evacuate the building, much less the floor. It was one of the most bizarre evenings of my life.

While this experience is not typical of the adventures I share on this blog, I did learn a valuable life lessons, one that I think is well worth sharing: When you see a machine gun run in the opposite direction no matter who tells you to do the opposite.

Other than the stand-off, the Hoosier State was pretty pleasant, but boy was I happy to get home.

Headed home #nofilter

Today’s The Day

Posted on November 6, 2012 by emily

Today’s adventure is a repeat. I have done it before, but it’s so important to me — and should be to all of us — that it’s worth doing as often as legally possible. It’s exhilarating, sometimes nerve-racking and always important — and I hope you all have a lot of experience with it. It’s voting!

It’s a simple act that has momentous consequences. We toss the phrase around to the point of triviality, but thanks to the 537 votes that decided the 2000 presidential race in Florida, we have evidence that every vote does indeed count.

There was a long line at my polling place, but my fellow citizens seemed happy to wait

To prepare for this adventure in the voting booth I have been following the various races closely over the past several months (more like years), I researched the issues and read-up on the ballot questions I would be asked to weigh-in on. I have heard people, friends of mine even, say that they don’t vote because they don’t know enough about the issues. Huh? What kind of lazy excuse is that? Have you heard of this little genius-maker they call Google? It can educate anyone, and fast!

Early this morning I was reminded what a privilege it is to vote. After being a duel Canadian and British citizen all her life and living in the U.S. since the age of 4, my friend Rachna voted for the first time as an American citizen this morning. When I saw her in line at her polling place her smile was wide and she had her husband in tow to take pictures of this special day. We, who have had this right since we were 18 yet fail to exercise it, should think about the excitement that our fellow citizens like Rachna feel today.

Rachna exercising her constitutional right for the first time

I’m not going to guilt trip you by saying that generations of people sacrificed a great deal so that we — not matter our skin color or gender — could execute this right of ours. Nor am I going to tell you that if you don’t vote today, you really lose the right to complain about what happens over the next four years. I don’t even care who you vote for (well, that’s not exactly true, I feel passionately about the choice that this election represents, but as I have said over and over again, this is blog is not political – but my twitter handle is) just as long as you do it.

Vote! Find your polling place and go…right now. If you need help getting there Uber, my new favorite car service, is offering free rides to or from polling places for first time customers. So leave your computer and run, don’t walk, or take a black car. I will be waiting here when you get back.

Done and done

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