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I love coffee. Sometimes people try to switch my coffee to decaf when I’m not looking. I can always tell the difference. I also like Pringles, but only the reduced fat kind because they crunch better when you bite into them and they don’t leave grease on your fingers. I’m…

About Me
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As part of our quest to support women’s issues, Katana Photography is excited to announce our first ever Celebrating Survival contest!
Having any kind of cancer is frightening and confusing. In recognition of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Katana Photography is welcoming all survivors from all forms of cancer to participate…

Weekly Photo
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When I was looking to buy my wedding invitations (back in April), I found a lot of designers on Etsy. After narrowing it down to a couple different designs/companies, I contacted both for their pricing list. One was pretty significantly more expensive–almost $2 per invitation more. Which I think all…

Weekly Style
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When talking to people about photography, I hear one phrase over and over again: Kids and dogs are the hardest subjects to photograph.
I, personally, don’t have this problem with my clients…kids and dogs are among my favorite things to photograph. Maybe it’s because I like to have any excuse…

Weekly Puppies
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Last week, Sean and I had our morning coffee on the balcony and watched as the Enterprise shuttle was pulled down the Hudson on a tug boat. It’s on its way to the Intrepid and I can’t wait to see it up close at the museum!

Weekly Coffee






And because Blogspot wouldn’t let me post more than a few pics….I had to write another post, so that you can relish in the cuteness with me. DO IT! RELISH!!!!!!!!

Pacifier Clips

Pacifier Clips
Pacifier Clips
Pacifier Clips
Pacifier Clips
Pacifier Clips

For those who don’t know, my sister had a baby in August. The most beautiful, blue-eyed, dark-haired, albeit slightly Asian looking baby EVER!

My parents went to visit not too long ago, and above are a few pictures of the constantly smiling, bundle of joy. Seriously…I’ve never seen a baby so happy! Of course, the only other baby I’ve really been around is My best friend’s daughter, Maddie, who was colicky for the first five months of her life.

When I first heard that my sister had gone into labor with Ms. Adelynn Mitchell…it meant one thing in the mind of this young New York woman. It meant it’s time to shop for welcome home gifts! Did it matter that I already spent hundreds of dollars on gifts at the baby shower? And when my sister first announced she was pregnant? And basically any time I passed an adorable boutique in the West Village? And that I knitted her a blanket and a hat and a scarf regardless of the fact that Bridget’s due date was August 7th? NO, of course not! This is my niece! And she deserves all that I can afford to give her!

I suited up in my most comfortable pair of heels and headed to the darling little store I had passed a few times, but never had the chance to go into. Live It Up! is located on Ave B and 13th St in the East Village. With a small door hidden behind a big flea market, it was easy to miss. Luckily, they have painted their name on the window in big pink letters. Upon walking in, I was greeted with hot coffee and cookies in celebration of their one-year anniversary. The young married couple was sweet and hip, looking like they definitely belonged right there in the East Village. Everything in the store was unique (and not all baby stuff…household appliances, towels, etc too), brightly colored, and classy with an air of funk to it. There were terry cloth robes for the baby with hoods like animals. And a bumblebee onesie that I couldn’t resist buying…it was going to be perfect for Halloween! But the thing that stood out most were the pacifier clips. I didn’t realize when I bought them, but they turned out to be the best gift my sister received. These pacifier clips were made of soft material, similar to the terry cloth robes, and had adorable designs, like ladybugs and flowers. All of the other pacifier clips my sister bought were hard or rubbery and Adelynn had a tendency to bonk herself in the face with them. But these Live It Up pacifier clips were, not only soft against her neck and chin, but brightly colored and stimulating for the baby as well as cute with any outfit!

Bridget called me within days of using the clip, begging me to buy more and send them to her. Then, her sister-in-law, also pregnant, asked for some. Then her sister-in-laws best friend wanted some. I found myself making a detour to this store every week to fill yet another order.

I guess I’ll just have to go find something else equally amazing so that I can spend my time in a different store for a change…

What’s Worse Than a Bad Day?

A day that starts out bad, with lots of tears. And then something great happens and you’re smiling so wide it looks like a hanger is caught in your mouth. And then something AWFUL happens and ruins the high you were on. And then something good happens, but not as good as the first good thing….and then that 2nd good thing falls through before it had the chance to blossom.

It’s like an emotional roller coaster. Seriously…if it’s gonna be a bad day, fine. I can take it. A good day? Even better. But this back and forth shit kills me. I never had a chance to fully enjoy the good things because the bad overpowered them.

I got a small glimpse into how my life would be if I were bipolar. Let me tell you folks, it was not pretty. If I ever learn that I am truly manic-depressive…do not hesitate to give me the prozac.

The Secret of Tea

As everyone here knows, I am obsessed with coffee. But once the headaches started and after realizing how jittery I was without my usual morning joe, I knew I needed to make a change. So I tried switching to Tea a couple months ago. At first, I was hesitant. How in the world could Tea replace my wonderful, loving companion, Coffee? Tea was like the rebound guy you go on a date with after having your heart broken by the man you loved. And Coffee did break my heart. I was a devoted lover, but he was bad for me. Abusive. Addictive. So, I tinkered around with Earl Grey and a few other mass produced teas that come in boxes. It just wasn’t the same. I cringed with each sip. Then, one morning, I stumbled upon Alice’s Tea Cup on the upper east side. Across the street was a coffee shop. I somehow managed to ignore the sweet smell of Columbian brew across the street and entered the lovely glass doors to Alice’s Tea Cup. I was seated at a dark wood, mahogany table and offered a scone menu to start. Beautiful paintings from Alice in Wonderland were painted all over the walls in a classy, understated way. I ordered a pumpkin scone and a ‘white chocolate’ tea from the menu. I hesitantly lifted the dainty, porcelain teacup to my lips. It was heaven as the liquid cascaded down my throat. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed a cup of tea. It was light and sweet with a creamy base that tasted like actual bits of white chocolate had been infused in the tea.

I asked the server what the secret was? How is it that my tea I make at home is so bitter and overbrewed tasting, when this is, well, perfection? He asked what type of tea I drink. I shrugged, not really sure which brand I bought from the grocery store this week. He said the key was the fresh tea leaves. Buying bags of loose tea as opposed to prepackaged pods makes the difference. He told me to buy a tea strainer and a sample bag of tea from their gift shop. I did. And my tea I make at home is just as delicious as the tea at Alice’s Tea Cup. Not only this–but I realized it’s the whole package that goes with drinking tea. It’s refined. It’s beautiful. It’s traditional. It’s classic. And while I still definitely enjoy a cup of coffee now and then, Tea and I finally found a way to make it work. It goes to show, that a relationship doesn’t have to be bad for you to be enjoyable!

"Seeking Literary Agent"

This is an ad I found on CraigsList today:

“Seeking Literary Agent!
I am a first time novelist with a unique opportunity
seeking an agent. The manuscript is solid literary fiction
and has commercial potential. Contact me for more details
and information on the book.”

Um, are you effing kidding me? Here’s an idea Ms/r. First Time Novelist. Do some research! If you spent the time to write the book–spend the time to get it sold! Don’t just sit on your ass waiting for an agent to come to you, cause guess what, dipshit? This industry doesn’t work that way! Actually, wait–I take that back. In the small case that you did actually write something quality, I think you SHOULD just wait for the agent to contact you. (One less query letter that’s competition for me!) You go ahead and eat those Doritos on your dusty old recliner while watching Regis and Kelly. Be sure to shoot me an email about who they interviewed today while I’m working hard earning a living here at my desk. Maybe you should get up sometime around noon and make some lunch…or better yet, order in. By dinner time, I’m sure your inbox will be FLOODED with potential agents begging to hear of this “solid” literary fiction you have waiting for them. Awesome plan. Good luck, dude.

Can you tell I’m cranky today?

An Oldie…but a Goodie

So I know I suck at posting lately. I apologize. Things have been a tad crazy. But here’s the beginning to a story which was a hit on the previous blog I used to write for. Enjoy!!!!

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She was short, but lean. Thin, muscular legs peaked out from beneath her denim mini skirt and small delicate feet rested in little ballet flats. Black cotton leggings wrapped around her calves and thighs to keep them warm on this brisk December day. In only a gray sweater, black scarf, and black hat that tilted over her left eye, she shivered in the 35 degree weather. She pushed the thought that she should have grabbed her peacoat before exiting her small studio apartment out of her head. It was too late now. She felt her cheeks tingle and turn numb, and knew that they were a turning natural shade of rosy; a flushed pink, the same shade of salmon that was painted on her fingernails, that stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone, across the bridge of her nose.? She hardly ever wore makeup, but when she did, it was subtle eyeliner to emphasize the one body part she was confident in—–her eyes. Today they were dark blue. The same blue you would see while visiting the ocean; a sapphire-like blue. But their color changed daily with what she was wearing. Some days they would be greenish, and other days they would look as gray as the overcast sky. On the days like today, when her eyes sparkled like sapphires, she would walk with a little bounce in her step; poise and buoyancy oozing out of these treasures that she valued more than any gemstone. And while she would never recognize or admit it, she turned heads. She turned more heads than any of the 5′10, make up caked women that surrounded her in this city. They were a sea of painted faces; floating rouge and crimson lips.

He was tall and handsome with angular features that exuded masculinity. Sandy brown hair curled playfully around his ears and as he walked, loose change jingled in the pocket of his leather jacket. He couldn’t hear the rattling over his blaring iPod. He walked in long, quick strides and as he did, his jeans rubbed against each other in a swishing type of movement. The blinking red hand instructed him and the other pedestrians to cease walking and instead of speeding up to beat traffic crossing the street as he usually does, he stopped and waited his turn.

From across the street, he saw the girl in the denim skirt. Her shoulders were tense around her ears, and every couple of seconds he could see her body tremble in the cold. Her blondish hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail underneath her hat and a couple of wavy tendrils had managed to escape from the elastic band, coiling around her jaw. She looked at the ground, fisted hands pushed deeply into the cargo pockets of her skirt. For a moment, her eyes rose and met his. Raising his eyebrows, he softly smirked at her, expecting a smile in return; for he never smiles without some form of reciprocation. Her eyes darted to left; towering over her was a leggy brunette looking as if she had just stepped out of a Prada advertisement, sporting a long white coat and a wide, toothy grin that had been, no doubt, recently bleached. Surely he was smiling at Prada Girl…

Prada girl smiled back at the man in the leather jacket. Surely he was smiling at her. The only other female within eyesight was the homely girl next to her who hadn’t even bothered to wear heels today. She seductively ran her tongue across her top lip and smiled again, waiting for his next move.

The man in the leather jacket watched the girl in the denim skirt looking at the woman in the white coat. His brow furrowed and his smile faded into a perplexed look. Mouth hanging open, his top teeth rested latently on his bottom lip. The girl returned her gaze to the ground and shifted awkwardly.

The woman in the white coat rolled her hips and changed her weight from one foot to the other so that her pelvis was slightly aimed at the man in the leather jacket. As she did, the girl next to her began walking, for the light had changed to its universal walk signal. Before her foot even reached the ground, the woman in the white coat’s long ankle tripped her, spilling items from her bag onto the grimy sidewalk.

The man in the leather jacket’s light blue eyes sparkled at the chance to be chivalrous and he quickly rushed to help her pick up the items.

The woman in the white coat saw the man hastening toward her and smiled wider, one eyebrow arched malevolently.

The girl in the denim skirt crouched, picked up each item one by one, and tried to stuff them back into her purse while the city bustled past her. People’s coats and legs brushed her right shoulder while she hurriedly tried to clean up her mess.

As the man in the leather jacket approached, the woman in the white coat parted her glossy lips, transforming her smile into an alluring pout. The tacky polish created a surreal shine that only lasted another five minutes before fading, and she had to reapply. She found it odd that his gaze was focused lower; he must have been staring at her breasts. They are, after all, rather magnificent.

Without making eye contact with the woman in the white coat, the man in the leather jacket bent down and knelt in front of the girl in the denim skirt. He flashed a more direct smile; one that couldn’t have been mistaken as being for anyone but her. His teeth were perfectly straight, like a strand of pearls and she was afraid to smile for fear of revealing her own slightly crooked, coffee-stained teeth. She silently cursed her parents for never getting her braces.

He lowered one knee to the filthy ground. “Here. Let me help,” He reached out a hand to grab one of the objects on the sidewalk. As he lifted it, they both realized that the object he was handing her was a tampon. Her salmon blush turned into a deeper crimson, comparable to the woman in the white coat’s lipgloss.

“Thanks.” The words tripped off of her naked lips and she clumsily stuffed the tampon deep into her purse.

The woman in the white coat bent down carefully, so to not dirty her designer clothes. “I am so sorry,” her voice had a tin-like quality and she spoke through her nose, “I can be so clumsy, sometimes.” She touched perfectly manicured fingers to her sternum in a shameful attempt to draw his eyes to her perky breasts. She tilted her head to the side and her dark brown hair fell in the girl in the denim skirt’s face. She grimaced and spit out the hairsprayed tendrils that were still dangling like a curtain in front of her. The woman in the white coat tossed a tube of chapstick carelessly behind her with her right hand and offered the man her left. “I’m Shayla. I saw you across the street.” She winked a brown eye, clumps of mascara flaking off in the process.

Indifferently he took her hand and helped Shayla stand. “Luke.” Once she was back on her feet, he used her hand to guide her out of the way. Then, he extended that same hand to the girl in the denim skirt. “I’m Luke,” he said once more.

With wide eyes, she stared into his just a moment too long. Swallowing, the lump in her throat grew wider and she clenched her jaw in an attempt to make it go away. The one lone ring she was wearing slid on her slender finger to the knuckle as she reached out her hand and placed it in his. “I’m Annie.” She stumbled to her feet, their eyes locked on one another.

Shayla stood with her arms dangling at her side, her Coach bag loosely hanging by her ankle. The gaping hole her mouth created could have fit an entire colony of ants. She quickly snapped it shut creating one soft “click” sound when her top row of teeth hit the bottom row. Her eyelids narrowed creating small lines that if she had been conscious of would have been botoxed immediately. Although she didn’t necessarily like Luke, she still had to have him. With fire in her chocolate brown eyes, she made a surreptitious vow that this handsome man had not seen the last of her.

Luke reached into the breast pocket of his leather jacket and when he pulled it back out there was a small business card pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled that wide toothy grin of his again and handed the card to Annie. “Be sure to put this to good use.”??

It was Annie’s jaw to drop this time. He was giving her his number. Her, not Prada girl. She secretly wondered what his true objective was. Maybe he had a younger, uglier brother he was trying to set up. She clutched the card in both hands like a treasure she had found, the way a small child would have clutched a piece of candy or a teddy bear, and looked down to read it.

Luke Lawson?
Lawson-Dekker Group?
New York, NY Architect Engineering Firm?
(212) 347-9877?

She wet her lips with her tongue. Not seductively as Shayla had done, but more like a nervous tick. “Alright, Mr. Lawson. I will give you a call.” She spoke professionally, since his intentions were still unclear to her. She couldn’t shake the thought that he was giving her this card to offer her an internship, or something.??

Luke couldn’t suppress a small chuckle when she used his last name. “Please,” he inhaled and then spoke through the air he let out, “call me Luke.”??

Both Luke and Annie heard a rustling, and when they looked back over at Shayla, she was swifly walking away from them with an unusual urgency in her step. Annie, who had glanced to her left milliseconds before Luke did, caught Shayla looking over her shoulder at them. Annie saw something in her face—–no, in her eyes; something she had seen many times before in women like Shayla: jealousy. Jealousy and vengeance. The only difference was that these glances had never before been directed toward her. It was like a lightening bolt surging from Shayla’s retinas, and Annie felt the repercussions. A chill down her spine as if someone had run a fingernail across each vertebrae.??

What Luke and Annie didn’t realize amidst staring into each other’s eyes was that as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, fingers grazing the inner lining of his coat, he accidentally pulled out a second business card that floated slowly to the ground like a feather, landing directly in front of Shayla’s patent leather pumps.? The malevolent arch of Shayla’s eyebrow crept back onto her face and she gingerly slid her shoe over top of the business card that had fallen. Glancing first at the couple talking, she pulled out her lip gloss and “accidentally” dropped it to the ground. It landed with a soft tap that made her freeze for a split second, nervously. Neither Luke nor Annie noticed, just as she had hoped. Once bent over, she slid her shoe back to the left and picked up both her tube of overpriced lip gloss and Luke’s business card, and slipped them both into her purse with one graceful movement. With a chip on her shoulder and a sneer on her face, she pivoted and walked quickly in the opposite direction, heels clicking against the sidewalk. Stealing one last glimpse of the happy couple over her right shoulder, her lips curled into a smile that could have frightened even our most horrific fairy tale villains.

Blogger Award

Blogger Award
I won an award! Thanks to Jersey Girl who recently awarded me the honor! For those who haven’t checked out her site, she is a hip mom with quirky, cute (albeit a little edgy) stories. Thank you for spreading the love my way, Jersey!

Now it’s my turn….this is a difficult decision to make, for I read several really great blogs. Ello, WordVixen, Deepish Thoughts…but one stands out to me. Merry of Mom and More I think that everyone here has read her stuff before, but in the case that someone is stopping in for the first time, let me assure you, she is great! She’s got such a great voice in whatever genre she writes in. I’ve only read snippets of her YA stuff, but I was in awe of her skills and dedication. Her blogs tend to focus on her process and different instances in her every day life, but it’s done so cleverly and almost always leaves me smiling and laughing! She is an inspiring blog to read because she discusses her progress and (not to speak for everyone) but she always motivates me to write and revise more. She is inspiring and great at critiquing…finding that fine line between constructive criticism and too complimentary. Not to mention, I admire any woman who is a full time mom and still finds the time to do what she is most passionate about! I only hope that someday, when I am a mommy or even just a wifey, I have mastered the juggling of my time half as well as Merry!

Get Set Go

Has anyone ever heard the song, I HATE EVERYONE by Get Set Go? Well, it pretty much sums up how I feel today. Here are the lyrics:

Some stupid chick in the checkout line
Was paying for beer with nickels and dimes
And some old man who clipped coupons
Had argued whenever they wouldn’t take one
All I wanted to was buy some cigarettes
But I couldn’t take it anymore so I left

I hate everyone (4x)

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don’t, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all

Some fucking asshole just cut me off
And gave me the finger when I fucking honked
Then he proceeded to put on the brakes
He slammed on the brakes, but I made a mistake
When I climbed out of my van he was waiting
But he was six three and two hundred pounds of Satan

I hate everyone (4x)

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don’t, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all

I bet you think I’m kidding
But I promise you its true
I hate most everybody
But most of all I hate
Oh, I hate you

All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don’t, I hate you all
And the people in the east, I hate you all
And the people I hate least, I hate you all
And the people in the west, I hate you all
And the people I like best, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all