I am working (very) slowly on renovating my kitchen. As I begin this process, I am gathering a ton of information, clipping articles and pictures for inspiration, trying to save money, interviewing contractors, meeting with architect friends, and talking to others who have gone through the process. So far, I pretty much feel like scrapping the whole thing. I'm dealing with layers upon layers of the nonsense that is renovating in New York City (co-op board, department of buildings, the fact that I'm in a landmarked building, etc.), and I've realized that before I can get to the "fun" part of picking out (and buying) appliances, cabinets, and floor tiles and before I've paid my yet-to-be selected contractor a dime, I've probably used up well over half of what I expected my budget to be.
Today I saw this article on Apartment Therapy which featured a galley kitchen that she ultimately opened up into her living room (which is something I hope to do in some fashion). She calls her kitchen, pictured above "outdated." Girl, you want to see outdated?! Try mine (pictured below). I'd trade my kitchen for your "before" picture any day.
Last week, I was lucky enough to go see Joan Jett & The Blackhearts and The Who live at the Barclay Center. In some ways, it was like a time machine, transporting me back to junior high and high school days, when I listed to both a lot more often than I currently do. In particular, I remembered that every one of our high school dances ended with Baba O'Reilly -- such a weird choice, in retrospect. Every time I hear that song, I think of high school dances. Life was much simpler then . . .
My love for dogs goes waaaay back. Paprika (or Pappy for short) was a Puli, a Hungarian Sheepdog (she's got her summer haircut in this pic). She was with me from birth until probably age 14 or so. #TBT
In the past few years, sleep has become more and more sacred to me. I regularly get about 7 hours; 8 on a good night, and even more on leisurely weekends. 6 or less and I get cranky, lack concentration, and have zero motivation to exercise. This effectively gives me a solid curfew on school nights these days of about 11, or maybe midnight if I'm close to home. Last night, I went to go see a band in Williamsburg with two of my law school friends with whom I used to go see bands all the time. When we first made the plans, we thought the band was starting at 8. Then we learned there was an opening band at 8 and our band was on at 9. This was perfect -- it allowed for a quick stop at home to walk Mox, and ample time to get to Brooklyn and catch up over dinner before the band started. Late in the day we learned our band was slated to start at 10.
Now, I'm the only one in the group that isn't married with kids, but one friend is (and never was) a night owl, and one of my friends had to deal with the additional schlep of a train back to Long Island at the end of the evening, so we weren't thrilled with the 10pm start. Of course, because we're dealing with a cool, hip band in Williamsburg, they didn't actually go on until about 10:50. Let's just say I'm a little tired today, but it would have been worse if I had stayed until the band finished. I was the first man down -- pathetic, I know. My law school self would be terribly disappointed.
I'm in love with this video created by Sport England. Why? Because I am an athlete even though I don't look like a fitness model and never will. Because although I've completed seven triathlons, I sometimes feel out of shape. Because every workout is a challenge, even if they become a bit easier every summer and harder every winter. Because I feel like a rock star at the end of every workout. Because no matter how much I exercise, I'll likely always carry around 10 lbs I'd rather not have (but it doesn't stop me from getting on that spin bike). Because I earn each drop of sweat. #thisgirlcan
Sorry for the crickets around here, folks. Back to business. So I had to go down to the New York Supreme Court the other day to renew my notary license. I'm always slightly geeked out when I go to court -- any court -- but there's something so visually majestic about the court buildings downtown. Maybe it's just the lawyer in me talking -- who knows. As I walked around the building trying to find the notary office, I was immediately taken back to my one and only court appearance as a litigator. I was filling in for a colleague on a pro bono case for a minor court appearance. He told me what I needed to tell the judge -- very quick, very simple. When our case was called, the judge immediately called counsel into chambers and expressed her frustration at seeing our clients before her yet again. She demanded that we have a full custody hearing that afternoon. I nearly passed out. Once I regained my composure, I respectfully explained that I was filling in for a colleague and that it would be in our client's best interest to have some time to prepare for a custody hearing. "Fine," she barked. "Monday." I returned Monday morning with my colleague for a full-blown custody hearing for which we had prepared all weekend. Trial by fire, indeed.