The Last Polo Match

Last Sunday marked the last Greenwich polo match of the season, and let me just say…it was an event to remember.

We arrived at our friends house to find a big, white school bus on the lawn, decked out in nautical flags and american flags. This was to be our ride with our friend Sam at the helm.

Our trusty captain

Our trusty captain

We packed the bus with tables, chairs, coolers, blankets, speakers, food, and tons of booze and set out for the match hours early to tailgate. Rolling in, we got plenty of stares but we didn’t care. It’s the last of the season – we were going out with a bang.

Just a small section of our sprawling tailgate area

Just a small section of our sprawling tailgate area

After the match, we went to the J House in Greenwich, where we continued to drink in the cabanas by the pool until closing time. At one point, I got pushed into the pool with my clothes and shoes on. I still can’t figure out who did it – I clearly have sneaky friends.

A walking ad for Vineyard Vines

A walking ad for Vineyard Vines




It was a bittersweet day, because it really marked the end of summer. It was our last night to go crazy and just enjoy the sun and our sundresses and hanging out pool-side. The next day was exceptionally cold, just adding to the feeling that this was the end of a chapter. Bring on fall! 

Theme song of the day: “Million Voices” – Otto Knows


12 Years Ago…

The school administration did not tell any of us what was going on. But you could sense that something wasn’t right. Teachers were crying, and a handful of people got pulled out of class. They never made an announcement because you never know whose parents worked in those buildings or the ones surrounding it. Because of where I grew up, many parents worked in the city and many worked in the WTC. You never know.

So on the bus ride home, our bus driver told me. That’s how I found out that the planes hit the Twin Towers. At first, my friends and I all thought he was telling us the plot of a movie. He didn’t realize we hadn’t heard.

I walked into my house and my mom immediately rushed up to me and gave me a big hug. She told me that everything would be alright, but I still didn’t understand what was going on. I spent the rest of the afternoon in my mom’s arms, watching the TV and waiting by the phone. Hours later, we did eventually reach my father, who was alright.

We never got a day off of school, like the rest of the nation outside of the tri-state area did. I suppose our school wanted to keep day-to-day life as normal as possible for those whose lives were turned upside down. There weren’t many kids at school over the next few days, and you eventually found out whose parents didn’t make it. There were a lot of services to follow, and it took a while for the school population to bounce back.

I know that I will never forget that day and the impact it has had on my life, and there is no other city I would be this proud to live in.

I took this photo a year ago from the Harbor.

I took this photo a year ago from the Harbor.

Let the Hunt Begin…

It’s that time again – time to resume the dreaded NYC Apartment Hunt. Last year, I was looking from out of town and my apartment luckily fell into my lap. This year, however, much more thought and energy needs to go into the process as we are starting from scratch. We hope to be able to live in this apartment for years to come. My days of moving to a new dorm room/house/apartment every year (if not more frequently) are finally over.

The easiest part was deciding who to live with. Let’s face it – we’ve had that planned since high school.

Next comes the nitty-gritty. There are millions of questions surrounding this endeavor. We have a million questions for the brokers, and they have a million questions for us. But before we even start, there are the questions we have to ask ourselves:

  • Where do we even want to live?  East side or west side? Uptown or downtown? Midtown? Chinatown? Do we venture to Brooklyn or Astoria? (Probably not those last ones).
  • Do we have any hard requirements? For instance, I refuse to live on a 6-floor walk-up again and I never want to live on York Ave. Kim requires windows.
  • Do the bedrooms have to be the same size or does someone want to pay more?
  • Should we look for three-bedrooms to make it cheaper? Who would be our third person?
  • What is the absolute amount of money we can pay in rent and still afford to feed ourselves?
  • What website do we use to look for apartments? There are like, 8590.

After we answered all of the questions above, it was time to start digging. The problem is that there are people in this world who set out to trick you. For instance, the “spacious bedroom” below is actually not. We quickly found out that if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.


Stay tuned for updates on the search. We started looking on foot this weekend.

Salad Shaming

[please excuse my rant]

There is a pretty well-known salad place by my office – at least, it’s well known in the circles I run in. While I won’t name names, I will tell you that they sell just salad.

They are one of those custom-made, chopped salad places that is incredibly crowded at lunch time, and there is always a line out the door. However, my bosses and I love salad and we go every day. Or at least, we used to.

You know when you can just tell that someone hates his or her job? I absolutely think that 1 out of every 2 workers here does. The same cashiers give me attitude every single day. One day, this particularly snarly cashier was eating yogurt (at the register), and when I put my salad on the counter, she gave me this astonished look, like I was interrupting her. Oh, is your Chobani really that good that you need to glare at me? Never mind the 20 people in line behind me, because it is the busiest part of the lunch hour. Other instances, I am still picking out a drink and she yells “next”, “next”, “next” in such a tone (as if I don’t hear her shrieking at me) that it makes me feel that if I don’t pick out a drink fast enough, I will piss her off. 

I have worked in retail, and I understand the importance of customer service. I understand that every so often, you might be having an “off” day. But I also understand that you cannot have an “off” day every single day. I do not get it. Maybe I’m just hypersensitive, but her rudeness every single time made me not want to go there ever again.

I am not incredibly proud of what happened next, but I am glad I did it:
This cashier’s attitude got so bad, that my boss and I tweeted at the company, complete with a sneaky picture I took of the cashier. We got an immediate response, and a promise to take care of the matter. After a few conversations with the manager of that store, I am happy to report that the issue has been resolved for the most part. I even got a free salad out of it. 

I don’t know if there is any great take-home lesson from this story besides tweet at companies you don’t like…or nevermind. Don’t do that. Or do, and get free stuff. 

Positive Choices

You can choose to be happy just as easily as you choose to be sad. The choice, no matter what the situation, is always up to you.

You can choose to get up and get going just as easily as you choose to sit and do nothing. The choice to actively move your life forward is always yours to make.

Instead of worrying about who is to blame, focus on choosing your most positive response. Instead of letting the past get you down, make the choices that will lift you up.

This is your own life, so live it with your own best intentions. Each moment gives you a new choice, so make all those choices count.


[Seen on EliteDaily]

Subway Stranger

Every morning on my way to work, I take the 4/5 Express down to Grand Central and switch to the 6 Local. You can picture the scene: the platforms at Grand Central are busy. Straight-up busy. The train cars are filled with hundreds of bankers, hip entrepreneurs, mothers with kids in strollers, lost-looking interns, tourist-y travelers, homeless wanderers, etc. etc.

One morning, back in June, I was going through the normal routine of squeezing myself onto the subway car [I’ll be damned if I am going to wait three minutes for the next one], when an incredibly tall guy proceeded to shove half of his body between the closing doors. After some heavy maneuvering, he managed to get all the way in. These type of people always annoy me. If the people before you hardly fit in the car, chances are you don’t either. Then again, some times I am a hypocrite.

As the train lurched forward, he had nothing to hold on to and fell backwards right on top of me. I had my headphones in, and gave him a typical early-morning-commuter scowl. Please, I haven’t had my coffee yet and your body is pushed up against mine. He apologized and I shrugged it off.

He then tapped my shoulder and said, “While I have your attention, could you tell me how to get to Murray Street and Spring Street? It’s my first day at my new job and I don’t know how to get to my office” Well, sir, that intersection doesn’t exist. Those streets are nowhere near each other. And might I state the obvious that you are already on the subway, yet you don’t know how to get to work? A likely story…

We ended up making small talk for a while, and right before my stop he asked if I would get dinner with him. He seemed like a nice guy and, to be honest, looked like my type. So I entertained the idea of getting to know this complete stranger and gave him my number. After all, if it didn’t work out, at least I can say that I met someone on a subway.

Although the rest of the story is not nearly as interesting as the beginning, I will say that I went on a few dates with him over the course of the next month, but it never worked out. No regrets here, though.