Goodbye

It's been a while everyone...

Almost two weeks ago, Gourmet magazine folded. The news was shocking.

I had been home in Atlanta for the weekend for the UGA vs. LSU game (which was hideous by the way.) My flight back to NYC was early Monday morning. I completely passed out for the entire flight. As the plane made it's landing at LaGuardia airport, I reached for my phone and turned it on, expecting no messages as it was still early.

There was one message from my roommate: "Gourmet folded."

I gasped. There had been talk since January of this year that the magazine might fold, but it's the publishing world. Rumors fly like wild fire, and so many times those rumors bare no truth.

My roommate and I met when I worked at Gourmet. It was an incredible first job. As I processed the news, my memory flashed to the two years of my life that I spent at Gourmet.

A lump in my throat grew and as I swallowed back tears, I thought of my interview. Three years ago this passed August I arrived in NYC ready to work in the magazine world. I had an interview with David Gaspin who at the time was with HR at Conde Nast. I had met David in February of '06 when I came to NY for "informational interviews" in which I attempted to get my name out into the publishing world. David and I spoke about an opportunity at Gourmet magazine. I was immediately interested. after all, I'm a self proclaimed foodie. He sent me over to interview with Susan Keena, the Advertising Director. The interview was great, so she passed me along to Tom Hartman, the Associate Publisher.

Tom was terrifying. He kept me waiting in the Gourmet conference room for 45 minutes. When I finally sat down with him, he took one look at my resume and said, "Hebrew. Hmm. You speak Hebrew?" Then, silence.

A few moments later, without looking up from my resume he asked, "How are you at Excel?"

"I'm great at Excel!" I lied. "I took a few courses in college dealing with Excel. I'm confident with building equations and spreadsheets. I may need a refresher on a few things as it's been a year since I've used the program, but I'm really comfortable with it." Where was this all coming from? Equations?

I was relieved when Tom asked if I would be willing to take an Excel course. I can now confidently say, I'm great at Excel.

My first day at Gourmet was a whirlwind. I slicked my into a tight bun and wore a classic black suit. I put my glasses on and felt like such a professional. I would find out a year later that the art department deemed me "Lilith". It took me three months to let me hair down, literally.

My roommate Stephanie and I had too many good times while working at Gourmet together. We bonded over our love of food, long distance relationships, want to run marathons (which we did!), and our appreciation of all things awkward.

Susan Keena was my boss for a brief moment, before the Associate Publisher and my other boss was made Publisher and I moved with him to be his Executive Assistant. I will never forget my second week at work. Susan pulled me into her office, closed the door and said, "Monica, take in this moment. You are in a special place right now. This team is more than you can ever imagine and you will probably never have such an amazing experience as this again in your life." Boy was she right.

If I talked about Tom I would need 1,000 pages and unlimited words to find the right things to say. Let it be known, that Tom and I still email and speak on a regular basis. I will be forever thankful for everything he taught me. Tom Hartman will forever hold a piece of my heart that no one will ever be able to take.

Working with Ruth Reichl was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Her name was thrown around in my home for years, so when I got the job at Gourmet, my father was beyond ecstatic. At least once a week during my time at Gourmet my mother would ask, "How's Ruth? Did you speak to her today?" I didn't have the heart to tell my mom that I usually did not speak to Ruth. However, when I did she was warm, kind and had the most soothing voice I've ever heard. For the holidays one year I had Ruth sign a cookbook for my mom and dad. In it, she wrote a beautiful message to my parents about me. I would never be able to express to Ruth how much that meant to my parents.

Gourmet was a moment time. I'm so lucky that I got to be a part of such an incredible magazine and work with such an astonishing group of talented people.

Time For an Update?

This is a quick post. I am currently watching Californication and the daughter in the show who is supposed to be 12 years old is wearing a dress that I just wore to work last week. I would describe the dress, but my attempts to describe fashion always fail. I am a fashion misfit (clearly). Please remember I that I am on the verge of 26. So the question I must ask, and would love a response to is....

Do I need to update my wardrobe or is the 12 year old the one in the wrong?

I'm mostly concerned because this is a dress I wore to my place of employment.....

Comments welcomed and encouraged.

Stay tuned...later I plan to post a photo of this dress...

The Early Side of Dusk

So this evening I went with my new roommate to take measurements of our new place. As you know I'll be living down on Wall Street. I then ventured to Brooklyn to assist her in selling her couch. The trip was a breeze. One stop and I was there. I felt a sense of calm as I realized my new home makes life outside of one neighborhood so accessible. New York renters are notorious for "renters remorse." Because we must make a game time decision the minute we view an apartment, after we sign our life away we begin to wonder, "Was there something else out there?" or, "Was it really as big as I thought?" or my personal favorite, "Wait, what did this place look like again?"

As I started my long journey home to the upper west side I took a deep breath in and realized it was 7:45pm and dusk was upon me. The long days of summer are now getting shorter. This put a small weight on my heart as summer is my favorite time of year. Each year since graduating college I am astonished at how quickly the summer months slip by. Each year I compare the current summer to the last saying, "Wow, and I thought last summer flew by."

This reminds me of my 10th birthday. I was very excited about the fact that I was turning double digits. I reminded every person that would listen that, "You only turn double digits once!" I was a wise cookie, even then my friends. My father came home from work with flowers for me. I felt like a true lady. I took the flowers from my dad, looked him in the eyes and said, "Thanks daddy! I just can't believe how fast this year has flown by. I feel like I just turned nine. What crazy year." And with that, my dad looked at me and said, "Well punkin', each year is only going to go by fast than this one. So enjoy the ride and don't let it fly by you." This is perhaps the best advice my dad has ever given me. To be honest, I'm not sure my dad and I have ever discussed this memory...but no time like the present. So dad, if you're reading this, thanks. :)

Dad and me in Israel, 2006

I do try so hard not to let life fly by. I try not to wish time away. Often I find myself wishing that things would slow down. However, for the past few weeks I have heard myself cursing time aloud, praying for it to be one month from where I am now. My move, as if I have not mentioned it enough, has been an incredibly stressful time period for me. I feel like I'm in limbo, waiting for things to gear up. To all you folks who don't know me well, limbo and I don't go well together, and until I have everything settled with my move, I'll be hanging out with limbo. Limbo happens to be my arch nemeses. Limbo makes the advice my dad gave me when I was 10 seem like a load of crap. I'm typically a very optimistic person who tries to see the positive side of everything. Limbo is my kryptonite and weakens my optimism making me a very negative person who can only see why things will not work out, or why everything sucks.

With that said, I think it's time to say so long to limbo. I've got my move date. I've got my movers. Things look like they are shaping up. So perhaps I don't wish it to be one month from now...but can I negotiate next week?

Freezer Queen

So, in the process of moving I am playing the "Cleaning out the fridge and freezer, so let's see what we can come up with," game. Interestingly enough, I made something utterly delicious last night.

**Shout out to my mother is necessary as she taught me how to make the most out of your freezer...***

For all my fellow foodies, try this out!

Artichoke and Edamame puree

Ingredients:

Frozen Artichoke Hearts, thawed ( about 9 hearts )
2 cloves of garlic (for the brave, or for you garlic wimps, 1 clove will do)
2 Tablespoons of Grated Parmesan Cheese
2 Tablespoons of Olive Oil
1/2 cup of Frozen Shelled Edamame, thawed
Salt and Pepper to taste

In a food processor, puree the garlic with the olive oil. Once it has made a slight paste, add the edamame. Puree until edamame has combined with the garlic paste. Add the artichoke hearts and Parmesan. Puree once again. Add salt and pepper to taste....

I put this on top of salmon that I found in the freezer. It was vacuum packed salmon from Trader Joes. Really impressed by the frozen fish selection they have.

Voila! Delish and easy as pie...It's amazing what you can make from all the random stuff you have in your freezer.

Take a Deep Breath with Me

STRESS...

Just take a moment to think about this word. I have been so incredibly stressed lately. I'm moving in a week, and the loss of my beloved Olivia was the icing on the cake, the straw that broke the camels back, the last thing I could handle...well, you get the picture.

Moving in New York City is not an easy undertaking, and I'm about to take on my third move in three years. Everyone knows how fast paced this city is. And as fast paced as daily life is, so is the renters market. Don't try to find an apartment early and make things easier for yourself because it does not exist. All you can do is wait until one month before your move date and like a bat out of hell rush to the fences and take your post. It's a battle field out here. Apartments do not last. You have to be cut throat. If someone views the apartment you think you want before you get there to view it yourself, cut them at the knees. Spare no one. And, please do not try to find your dream apartment, because that does not exist. You will have to compromise one of three things: 1. Neighborhood 2. Rent 3. Size. Take your pick. You may be lucky enough to have to pick two, so be prepared.

I was planning on living in a studio because Sex and the City told me I had to have the experience of living alone. But then I realized, I actually live in the real world. Carrie Bradshaw's rent stabilized GIANT studio with HUGE kitchen and ENORMOUS closet does not exist. Charlotte's Upper East Side luxury building ain't happenin' on my budget. Yes, if I wanted to live in a dorm room with a fake kitchen and a bed-living room, sure. If I wanted to exceed my budget, plus pay bills all alone, I could do it. However, I realized my dream of living alone some how does not compare to my current quality of life. So, I've taken up a new roommate.

We have sacrificed our neighborhood and our budget (only by a tish), but our apartment is amazing. It is located on Wall Street. It has a beautiful roof deck, a gym in the building (no fee! Ka-CHING, I just made up some money!), and the apartment itself is extraordinary. All new appliances (for those of you not in NYC, this is a luxury, not a standard), lots of space...and drum roll please....CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING. Yes, there is absurdity here, this would be mandatory in places outside of NYC. But here, they take you for what you're worth. So saddle up and get ready for a ride.

We did end up getting an unbelievable deal. Though I mention rent as an aspect that we sacrificed, we were truly low balling before, and now we have lucked out. I hope to be able to afford a beautiful new laptop I have been eying. And for all of my five followers, this will assist my writing life. Plus I'm hoping with the money I'll save I can afford an overseas vacation...at some point.

I sit now with a glass or red wine, a true water glass...no wine glasses left in my current apartment that is in the process of being packed up. I sip my wine, take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. I must enjoy this moment. The stress of getting the apartment is gone. I now must move on to scheduling my movers, scheduling a move out date, scheduling a move in date, negotiating a few things in my lease...the list goes on.

So with my stress at a smaller level I have no choice but to enjoy this moment. I currently have no TV in my apartment as it belonged to Lauren, my old (and incredibly amazing) roommate. All I can do is blog, sip my wine and read my book. And you know what? That sounds like an incredible evening to me.




Sweet dreams my Olivia

Hello World

My first posting...

I need to stop and think about this for a moment.

I've attempted blogging before, but it never really stuck. I tried the "I graduated from college and am now living in New York City, therefor I should blog about it," routine, but clearly that was overdone. I'm now 25, have been out of school for three years and have lived in NYC for the majority of that time. I kept meaning to pick up blogging again, but I nothing pushed me. I was a journalism major, and have always loved to write, so it would seem that blogging would be a natural outlet for me. But I digress. I do not work in journalism, so writing is a hobby....blogging is a hobby...looks like this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. The one question is, who the hell would want to read what I have to write...

...Here goes...

She's Gone

My family dog, Olivia, passed away yesterday. If you are not a dog person you may as well stop reading now. This post will mean nothing to you and you will think I'm some crazy dog lady that is pent up in some apartment with 7 dogs and no life. However, if you are a dog person, stick with me.

While I am in NYC, my parents still live in Atlanta where I grew up. My parents got Olivia as a surprise for me and my brother when I was a freshman in high school. It was Thanksgiving weekend and we went to the airport to pick up my uncle. He had a crate with him. I looked at him confused. He handed me the crate and said, "Here, this belongs to you." I opened up the crate and climbed in, crying hysterically, in awe of my new puppy. She was beautiful. Jet black, with gray paws. I stayed in the crate for a good 10 minutes, laying down next to my unnamed dog, stroking her face and calming her down after her bumpy flight. It was love at first site.

Olivia was a standard poodle. She knew what she wanted and communicated easily her wants and needs. She was almost human. She demanded to drink from a cup that my family used at our dinner table. A water bowl was not dignified enough for her. She was a lap dog when she wanted to be, putting her front paws in your lap and gently resting her head near your hands, ever so slightly hinting to you that she would like her head scratched. She only did tricks when she felt like it. She didn't perform for us. We performed for her. If you held a treat in front of her and said "shake" she would look at you and with her big brown eyes say, "unless that is a piece of Filet Mignon or Risotto, you can do tricks for me, but I'm not doing anything for you."

She was the protector of her family. When someone was sick, she didn't leave their side. I had Mono when I was 17 and was bed-ridden for three weeks. During that time I cannot remember a moment when Olivia was not with me. If I crawled out of bed to go to the bathroom, she followed me. If I closed the door to the room I was in, she stood outside barking loudly, demanding to be let in so she could keep and eye on me. She would stay by me until I was well. She slept at the foot of my bed, and every couple of hours she would get up, sniff my face, walk back to the foot of my bed and go back to sleep.

I tended to torture Olivia. I thought it was funny to put her big floppy ears in a high pony-tail over her head. I liked to watch her slip across the hardwood floor my parents had installed in our living room. Olivia was used to carpet. When the hardwood floor came in she slipped everywhere and I would always try to make her run full speed on the floor to watch her try to stop herself. I did it because it was cute. And I think Olivia knew how much it made me laugh. She enjoyed seeing her family happy. She slipped for me until she slipped her way right into the wall. Then she looked at me and with her head tilted said, "Alright lady, enough's enough. I'm done."

Olivia was almost 11 years old. She died in her birth month. She wasn't sick. She woke up in the middle of the night vomiting and just couldn't get comfortable. This was alarming to my parents and brother as they remembered the symptoms my aunt's dog presented when he had Bloat. Bloat is a condition in dogs where the stomach rotates and ultimately, if not caught soon enough can cause death. Fortunately for my parents they saw the signs and rushed Olivia to the emergency care center immediately. She had surgery which went well. Unfortunately Olivia never woke up from surgery. There is no rhyme or reason.

We will miss Olivia every day. But somehow we are lucky. Though her life was cut short, she did not suffer. She was walking our neighborhood lake on Monday afternoon, and passed away on Tuesday. She went quickly. Olivia had a wonderful life. We will be the ones who experience the pain of a loss. She is happily in some place where her arthritis does not bother her, and there is no older sister to torture her and make her wear pony-tails.

Olivia: A poodle she was, a lady she always will be.