Category Archives: My Life

I Broke My Valentine’s Leg

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Yes, it was a violent encounter, on-lookers were horrified.  Did I mention that my valentine was the wing chair I am working on restoring? I was not going to miss my upholstery class for a half-baked holiday that makes couples force romance and singles force smiles.  So yes, I spent Valentine’s Day upholstering. Well, there was no actual upholstering; I was trying to salvage my relationship with my valentine.

I started class by loosening all the joints of my chair so that I could glue them back together to be sure my chair would be a steady one.  After applying wood glue I put my chair in traction with large, heavy metal clamps so that the joints stayed tight as the glue dried.  As I was tightening one of the clamps that ran from the bottom of the rear left leg up to the top of the chair’s back I heard a loud CRACK! The leg of my chair had snapped right off, but it was not a clean break.  I gasped, then whispered to my chair “It’s not you, it’s me.”
My chair’s broken leg
Maybe I should have seen this coming, friends told me he would never amount to anything, but I saw something in my chair that I had not seen in others.
I was emotional and heartbroken as I held his leg in my hand.  Heartbroken that a relationship that had started out so promising — and one in which I saw so much potential for the future — was irrevocably broken, snapped in two pieces with painfully jagged edges exposed.  We had a deep connection my chair and I.  We were compatible on so many levels.  Sure, I wanted to change him, but it was for his own good.  I could see his potential.
My teacher assured me that all was not lost. There was hope. It would take hard work (and a plethora of wood glue) but we could get this chair back on track and we would still have years of happy reclining to look forward to. I pulled myself together and squeezed glue all over the breaking point as if it was my only hope for a happy ending. I stuck the broken leg back in place, used some staples just to be sure, and carefully, reapplied the clamp.  It was touch-and-go there for a minute, and I will not know for sure if we have a chance until I return to class next week.  But I am hopeless romantic, and I think this may be it!
Reapplying the clamp after the breakup
If only all relationships could be fixed with wood glue and some clamps…

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

I’m Baaaack…

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But not in a Freddie Kruger way, I swear.  I have to apologize and explain my long absence from this blog.  As you may have noticed, up until this point I have not identified myself clearly nor posted head-on pictures of me.  Now, you can clearly see what I look like, and the “emm” has been replaced with “Emily.”  That’s right, my name is Emily, and I’m proud of it!

Why the secrecy?  Well, I previous held a job that I feared would be compromised by my adventures.  Well, not exactly compromised, but I was worried the Boston Herald would splash a “State Agency Spokes Finds Her Passion in a Back Bay Bar” headline across its cover or something salacious like that.  Although, I am sure a lot of Bostonians have found passion in the dark corner of a bar…so maybe that would have won me more fans…

At the end of the summer I changed jobs and now my employer not only allows, but would likely applaud me for having a blog.  From their perspective the fact that over 1,000 of you have read (and hopefully enjoyed) my blog over the past year is actually a plus!  I am slowly adjusting to this new “creative work environment:” I bought my first pair of skinny jeans, albeit at Target seeing I am not confident in my embrace of this trend.  I now say things like “totes” and “OMG” out loud and in email.  And, best of all, I am getting back into writing and will be picking back up my search for my passion!
I have actually tried a few new things during my hiatus, including glass blowing and pole dancing …yes, pole dancing (look what this creative work environment has done to me!) that I will be sharing with you over the next few weeks.  In addition, I am now taking requests as well!  If you would like me to try your passion on for size or would like to suggest something to set me up for total embarrassment, bring it on!  I have veto power, of course, but it may be tough to say no to my first request.  So comment below and read what happens!
Thank you for reading! It feels fantastic to be back. This is going to be totes amaz!

Storage Unit as a Metaphor for (My) Life

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If I am going to take an honest look at myself (and what is a blog for if not self-indulgent introspection) I have to admit that I am a newly recovered commitment-phob.  I have always liked having an escape hatch whether it’s from a date, a party or in this case a big move that had me shaking in my boots.  I claim that I was so ready to move to Boston nearly a year ago, but in fact I have been keeping a little secret…in Quincy…a storage unit with all my earthly belongings from my past life in New York City.  I sold most of my furniture when I left Manhattan, but there were some things that I didn’t want to part with or unpack into my Beantown apartment (which is owned and co-inhabited by a dear friend from growing up), just in case this whole Boston thing didn’t work out.  I have spent a good deal of money keeping these things somewhere, anywhere — just in case I had to high-tail it to who-knows-where. At first I told myself that it was smart to keep them, in case living with Erin hurt our friendship (which is far more important to me than a place to sleep), or if at some point a globe that has the U.S.S.R. on it became essential to my existence.  I have a massive tripod and a didgeridoo, board games and lamps.  I have probably 100 books in that storage unit, most I have read, some I have no desire to.

But last night walked down the dark, narrow hall to the storage unit, opened it up and took pictures of nearly everything (I’m actually going to keep the globe and didgeridoo) and put them on craigslist.  I am happy and looking towards the future, and don’t need that escape hatch anymore.

Anyone want to buy a microwave?

Where to begin…well, maybe at the beginning

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Behind the wheel of a Uhaul leaving Manhattan

My entire life I have been a planner: A hard-working, goal-oriented, type A planner. Once I set my mind to something (and I set my mind to a lot of things) I did not stop until finished it. When I was about 11 I drew a picture of myself as an adult. I was wearing a mini skirt with a low cut blazer (with a startling amount of cleavage), running in high heels with a microphone in my hand. I wanted to work in TV and that was it. Fast forward to age 30 and I was living in New York, working as a writer and producer for WNBC-TV, a Frontline documentary I associate produced was nominated for an Emmy (we lost to an HBO doc about sex trade…tough to beat), but as I walked into 30 Rock each day (which at one time never failed to give me goose bumps) I kept thinking “this is it?” At 30 I had accomplished all the goals I had set forth for myself and I was unhappy: unhappy with my job, unhappy in New York…just unhappy. One day I explained how I was feeling to my dear friend Genevieve as we sat on Gooseberry beach in Newport, and she said “Just move! Get up and move!” She made it sound so simple. Then it hit me that it actually was that simple. If journalism wasn’t making me happy anymore — do something else. If I didn’t love New York any longer — go someplace new. While abandoning what most would consider a successful career was terrifying at first, I soon saw it as a necessity. I swore I would move on October 1st, job or no job (thankfully there ended up being a job). I packed up what had once been my dream apartment in SoHo with all its beautiful exposed brick — well, ok I paid others to pack it up– but I did drive the Uhaul out of Manhattan (I have a flair for dramatics and a scene with me physically driving away from that chapter of my life will be great when this blog is turned into a Lifetime movie of the week). I am now settled in Boston with a job that is challenging and engaging, but I need a passion…or at the very least a hobby!  I gave myself several months to get used to all the change I gobbled up all at once, and now I’m setting out to explore the possibilities out there. For the first time in my life I am not doing what I think I should do, or what I think others want me to do. I am just going to see what makes me happy. Let the adventure begin!