Okay, for now....

I'll keep this design up. It just needed a new html code (yada yada yada...) or else my hosting site was going to delete it. Gasp.


So a redesign is coming soon. Promise.

Holy Moly....

Don't freak out. Pull it together. I promise I'll finish the new redesign soon. I know...I don't like change either. Hang in there. Bare with me ...things could get a little messy here.

Thursday Morning Inspiration

Excellence is a combination of passion and focus. When you have passion for what you are doing and get your focus in the right place, everything else will follow. Embrace the moment.”

— Terry Orlick, PhD

Jamaica. Yeah Mon.

Many thanks to the Jamaican Tourist Board, Secrets Resorts, and the fine folks at Ruder Finn Public Relations. I had an unbelievable time in Jamaica. Here are a few snapshots.

The Property: Absolutely beautiful. Everything you imagine paradise looking like. The property, simply put, was breathtaking. The beach was literally steps from our room.

The Rooms: Absolute luxury. Beautiful balcony views overlooking the ocean, the most comfortable beds I've ever slept on, flat screen televisions, deep bubble bath with jets, and awesome maid services which included nighttime turndown--my favorite. I loved coming in from a long day and having my bed ready to go. There were always fresh apples, Hershey kisses and complimentary champagne. I felt spoiled.

The Food: Good stuff, many options, from a buffet to various restaurants, I enjoyed it all. (Then again, when do I not enjoy food?) The down side? Slow service and some small portions, but hey... it's island time. Also, you can order room service anytime. Yes, even at 3 a.m.

Best part: the resort property itself and the rooms. So gorgeous! Luxury at it's finest.

Needs work: the service. Super, duper, slow. I'm still waiting on that extra pillow.

Overall: I was in heaven.

My Favorite Morning Faces

Tomorrow I will make my last morning commute to the Time & Life building here in New York City. That’s right my friends, my glamorous (and not so glamorous) interning days for a national glossy are through. What an incredible journey it has been! *

Google Maps tells me it is exactly 0.8 miles from my apartment to work, and when I do the math, (which we all know is my greatest strength) it comes out to be 1.6 miles a day, 8 miles a week, roughly 32 miles a month. Over the course of the last seven months, I have walked approximately 224 miles just in my trek alone.

As I make my final work commutes I’ve been thinking about all the people I pass along the way that I’ll no longer see. So this is a tribute to them and their groggy morning faces. Together we endured blizzards, freezing temps, monsoons, humidity thick enough to make you feel like you’re drinking water instead of breathing in oxygen, and, on the occasion, the perfect, sunny Manhattan day.

My morning begins with the security guard at the end of my street who always waits for me to say “Good morning,” and then replies with, “How are you?” as if we’re about to sit down for coffee (which I wouldn’t mind because it is first thing in the morning and I usually need a cup of Joe—stat.) But alas, I just say, “Fine thank you,” and keep on walking. In a perfect world he would have a cup of coffee waiting for me and he would hand it off like a teammate passing a baton at a track meet. Yes, I’ve had this daydream many times before.

From 3rd to Lexington I bump the jams on my iPod. As I cross Lexington I usually, depending on my potassium levels, stop at a little produce stand for a banana. Small bananas run about .35 cents while the larger ones are a solid .50 cents. Don’t get me started on the prices. Trader Joes offers bananas for .19 cents no matter what size. You want a banana the size of your leg? No problem, .19 cents please. I said don’t get me started! Regardless, this is someone’s living, and so I, more often than not, dish out .50 for a small banana. Random acts of kindness will change your life.

The best part about the banana cart is the little man who runs it. We first met in December when I moved to Midtown from Washington Heights. He was wearing one of those extremely oversize down jackets that made him look like an obese man in a black, shiny Hefty garbage bag. He always wore the hood, so it wasn’t until spring time that I discovered he actually had hair. I suppose when you just sit outside in the freezing cold on the corner of 50th and Lex, you get pretty darn chilly, hence the subarctic Hefty garbage bag-jacket.

If I had no other way of telling what season it was, the Banana Man would suffice. Much like a caterpillar coming out of it’s cocoon as a butterfly, the Banana Man shed all of his winter garb to reveal a person half the size I thought he was. And when he finally put shorts on, sweet Lord, his skin was the craziest color white I have ever seen. A white that makes you think he was camping out at the bottom of the ocean with those scary fish that make their own light because the sun is so far away.

At any point between the Banana Man and Radio City Music Hall I look for one particular character. He’s a tall gentleman, probably about 6’2, maybe 6’3, maybe 27 years old, and a real looker if you ask me. And even if you didn’t ask me, this is my blog so there it is. In fact, I think he’s so attractive he has to be gay, otherwise women everywhere would be warring over who gets this delicious piece of man.

Depending on where we pass each other on 50th, dictates how late for work either of us are. If I catch him crossing Park Ave, I know I’m late. And by late I mean DOOMED. This happened only once. If I catch him on the corner of 50th and 6th, well then he‘s DOOMED. We generally catch each other between 5th and Madison, and on these mornings both of us look relieved and happy to see each other. If it’s possible to have a relationship with a complete stranger that involves dependency and comfort without ever uttering so much as a hello, well, the two of us are guilty as charged. What a babe.

If I catch him by the side entrance of Radio City Music Hall then I am forced to divide my attention between two gentlemen. The second is, hands down, my favorite fellow and quite possibly the one I will miss the most. His name is Marios (say it with a Spanish flare), and he’s a tall, light-featured, heavy/bulky/if-he-falls-on-you-you’re-dead type of guy, who runs the security at the side entrance. We started off with simple hellos. Then small chit-chat as I walked by (how was your weekend?…yada yada yada.). Then one day he extended his hand and said, “I don’t even know your name.” And thus, my secret crush blossomed. Once he disappeared for like a month and returned with the nicest sun-kissed skin I’d ever seen. “Vacation,” he said, “California.” Of course I thought to myself. Cali-freaking-fornia. “Next time take me!” I said with a shameless, batting of the eyelashes. Desperate, I know. One morning I made him a muffin for breakfast but forgot it on the kitchen counter. Go me. Clearly I’ve got game.

So there you have it, from banana guys with pasty white legs to handsome security guards who sneak off to California without me, I will miss them all.

* Working for InSyle has been the experience of a lifetime. I am blessed beyond words to have had the opportunity to learn from and work with some of the greatest and most elite names in the business. I have learned more than I could ever possibly put into words, and my gratitude to everyone on the 26th floor extends far beyond a simple blog post. I am a better person simply for knowing such an amazing team. Plus, the September issue is going to be bomb.com and everyone should pick up a copy.

Words to Live By...

"Map out your future, but do it in pencil."

- Jon Bon Jovi

This is among the greatest lessons I have ever learned.

On My Walls

I wanted to show you guys some of the images I stuck on my cubicle walls over the past nine months. As many of you know, this has been one of the hardest years (if not the hardest) of my life and these are some of the little things I surrounded myself with in a small attempt at keeping it all together. I guess you could say God’s grace and amazing friends and family helped a tiny (re: humongous) bit too.

Real Simple is one of my favorite magazines, and luckily for me it was just a few floors down. Many of these are pages from past issues.

How I felt, everyday.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to tell you guys. I. GOT. A. JOB.

I’m 100% thrilled, blessed and excited. It is an amazing opportunity and I'm excited to start this new chapter of my life.

For your countless prayers, well-wishes, warm thoughts and shoulders to lean on--thank you will never be enough.

Undaaaapants

Reader, we’re about to get super-duper personal. If you’re not ready to take it this far, turn away. Now. This is your out, your chance at freedom. Go! …No?.....Oh, I see you’re sticking around. How very committed of you.

Have you ever left for work after forgetting to put on underwear? …Yeah… me neither. (Cough)…until today…(Cough).

It was literally one of those mornings. Too much to do, not enough time, seven trillion degrees Celsius (thanks N.Y.C. heat wave!). I was distracted by what shoes to wear with today’s dress: I put the dress on, but bypassed the underwear and went straight for the shoes. I realized it then, but quickly forgot until I got outside and felt oddly… how do I put this? (Taps finger on chin)....free. If you know what I mean. And don’t act like you don’t know what I mean you guys. C’mon!

Anywho. I suppose of all the days you could forget an undergarment 100-degree days are best.

If you need me, I’ll be sitting in the refrigerator.

Happy 4th Y'all

Check out Joelle's outfit. Stylish beyond words. I could eat, err...I mean kiss, those cheeks all day.

Before Laura knew she was pregnant we met for breakfast at the same restaurant our mothers have been taking us to since ... forever. Belmont Hall, in Manchester, New Hampshire. It's a tiny place where the food is good and the patrons are on average, 65 years old. Regardless, we certainly don't mess with the traditions of our mothers.

The ironic part is that the last time we got together Laura was actually pregnant with the adorable little dumpling you see. She just didn't know it. And as I listened to her rant and rave about her bizarre craving for bacon and sausage, I couldn't help but ask if there was a baby in the near future. Little did we know that baby was already there with us, eating bacon and sausage and indulging in her very first brunch with mom-to-be and Auntie Katie. Needless to say, I am so very blessed to have these beautiful girls in my life.

Happy 4th of July to all my faithful readers, family and friends. It's such a privilege to have you guys in my life. And to Joelley-Belly, because she's dunkable.