Why I Love(d) NY

I mentioned last weekend that I've been feeling restless, dreamy, greedy for something.

Whenever this happens, I start thinking of New York. When I interned there in 2005, I was freshly 21, heading to the city of dreams with two of my best friends. 4 months, 3 girlfriends, 2 apartments, 1 goal: fun of the fabulous variety.

I had no idea what to expect. I grew up in rural Michigan and except for a few family trips to Las Vegas to visit relatives, a couple class trips to Chicago and one church group trip to New Orleans, my travel radius was about 250 miles.

It was extraordinary. I laughed, I learned, I loved... and I lost: I lost weight, I lost anxiety, I lost self-consciousness, I lost self-doubt. In the city that never sleeps, I slept like a baby. In the city where 8 million people buzz around each other going about their own business, I made friends. In a city where you can easily lose yourself, I found out who I could be.

But there came a time to come home. I cried, I cleaned, I created last-minute memories via a newly opened Visa card. But after shipping a few boxes of books home, I flew back to finish my degree.

As time went on, reason after reason kept me from moving back. I pursued my Master's degree close to home because I had close relationships with my advisers and could therefore have more control over the direction of my studies. (And also, it was free.) My late advisor told me to stop waffling. "New York will always be there when you need it," she said. (She was right: I've been back in 2006, 2007, 2008 and 2011, and it has never disappointed me.)

I stayed close to home when my dad was injured at work and had to have two back surgeries. I got job after job to gain more experience. I even bought a house and began to set down roots. New York has always been in the back of my mind, though, for two reasons: It had made me happy, and I wanted to be that happy again.

What was the magic there? Was it the hustle, the bustle, the unlimited entertainment? Was it the freedom, the opportunity, the hope? Or did I just find happiness in an unexpected place during a time that could not be recreated because it was just kismet? When else can three fresh-faced girls bubbling with excitement during a thrilling time in their career tackle a new city together? When else can you have friends and family fly to visit you almost every weekend, with an entire world at your fingertips?

Those circumstances might be unique, but was that happiness able to be replicated? What could I learn from it if I studied it hard enough?

And then there's the cold hard truth: I never went back. I'm a girl who takes care of her own business. I track down the perfect entry way bench. I say I will go to Europe for my graduation and I go. I set goals and I try every angle, every way, every possible avenue to reach them. But I never went, and I have always asked myself why? If it makes you so happy, as Sheryl Crow would say, then it can't be so bad. So just. make. it. happen. But I never did. I would even venture so far as to say it's the only thing I've ever really wanted that I didn't make a reality.

"We pick up in New York City
I'm trying to find the [wo]man I never got to be
But when I push down on the pavement,
I find the whole thing so much harder than it seems" 
--John Mayer, "Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey"

Okay, so what was my city hangover trying to tell me?

After 6 7 years (holy cats!), I'm still not sure. Only that my world was a little bit brighter there, and my gut tells me it wasn't just the city lights. Alas, here are my top five theories about why New York made me so happy (in hopes to apply these key lessons wherever I land right this second).

1. I found my limits--and I pushed right through them. I will never forget going out into the garage to say goodbye to my dad the night before my flight left. He was already crying and I thought he was scared for me. But he was proud. And if you know me at all, that unraveled me. I mean, it made me happy, but I was a pile of tears and angst. Was I doing the right thing? My mom was more matter-of-fact, making sure I had everything I needed, and tucking a beautiful new watch in my suitcase for me to find when I landed. She was trying to avoid crying because she wanted to be strong for me. This just made me more unsure. I felt bottled up, hesitant. I felt like I had gone too far.

It took me a good five days to feel like I made the right decision getting on that plane. I pushed through the threshold of what I thought I could endure--being away from my family--and on the other side, I found that there was a wide open world to explore, and that I could find happiness in a little corner of it, and still feel completely loved and supported.

2. I found my voice. I had originally taken an internship with a privately-owned book-packager and literary publishing agency. I had aced my interview over spring break and was ready to soak in every bit of knowledge that I could. But my boss was only looking for a free receptionist. In fact, she just wanted a slave (and not your average intern slave; she wanted the shackled kind): I babysat her 18-month-old daughter during important meetings and then was chastised if she cried; I walked 42 blocks roundtrip to file a police report for her "stolen" cellphone; I called to complain about the accommodations on her recent personal trips, and was encouraged to get as big of a refund as I could. I spent a few weeks trying to put myself in my place (I was an intern, after all) while asking a million questions of the other employees, who were mostly overworked interns themselves. But as time went on, she became more hostile and demanding; it was an all-around uncomfortable and disappointing experience.

So I quit.  After rehearsing a few times in the mirror, I pushed my shoulders back, walked in her office and told her I wasn't getting the experience I came to get. After a few phone calls trying to convince me to come back, she conceded that it was time to find another slave intern.

I was about to walk my butt over to Old Navy and ask for an application, but my advisor (the same one who offered the guidance above) put out an email to all of her contacts through the professional organizations she belonged to: "Bright young student needs an internship," the email read. "She worked her butt off to get to New York and has been mistreated.... I think the publishing world owes her a hand. Can you help?"

And help they did. Many offered informational interviews; it was already June and their intern programs were full. So I spent a few days touring the big publishing houses, asking as many questions as I could think of and guzzling down their free soda. I accepted that maybe I would just spend my summer selling plastic flip flops. But one editor came through and delivered. My knees were knocking when I walked into W.W. Norton's Fifth Avenue office and told the doorman who I was there to see. But I was offered a internship in the text book division, and the rest was history.

I am grateful to those who helped (and will always pay it forward), but I am equally grateful that I saw my worth and actually spoke it out loud.

3. I found a passion. I lived it out loud three days a week as I hustled in and out of the subway, on and off the bus, back and forth to and from Norton. I put hundreds of miles on my summer sandals as I ran from office to office, spent hours in front of the hot copy machine, sweating in the July heat and eating lunch out of the vending machine, obsessively preparing galleys for the editors. I filled my tote bag with books from the take-one-please library, and I read those books until late, late at night (albeit scanning the floor for mice at the same time).

4. I found love. Sure, I dated, I crushed, and I got crushed. I even spontaneously asked my cute German coworker, Bernd, out to dinner when it started raining on the walk to the Subway station. But what I really mean is that I started to love myself. I spent entire afternoons walking with nowhere in mind, enjoying my own company. On days that I didn't work, I went down to Chelsea Piers and laid in the lawn, devouring books from Anna's aunt's shelves. Somewhere in between day trips with visitors and all-night dancing sessions with Jackie at Joshua Tree, the doubts in my mind quieted. I'm sure if I dug out my journals, you'd be able to see a marked difference between my insecure ramblings from May and June and my writings in July and August. Something just clicked.

5. I found a lifestyle I loved. When people ask me what I loved about the city, I always say that we lucked out with the location of our apartment. We rented from my friend Anna's aunt in a neighborhood called Chelsea. Our apartment was 3 blocks from the Chelsea Market, and just about every other day, I would walk down and buy some fresh veggies, whatever looked good. If Anna was with me, we would manhandle the food bar (once hilariously mistaking huge chunks of tofu for feta) or hit up a tasting at the wine store.

I loved walking everywhere, or catching a cab late at night. I loved trying new things, even if I had to spit my oysters in my napkin and beg Jackie to finish them. I loved my complete independence, even if I did once call my parents screaming about a mouse. I loved watching people in the grocery store. I loved how, even in a city of millions, you'd sometimes see the same people over and over again. I even loved the creepy guy on the next stoop (okay, that one might just be nostalgia talking). I loved how rude and genuinely bothered our super was. I loved not knowing whether a cabbie would ignore me, share his conspiracies, give me sage advice, or try to convince me that he thought was a supermodel.

I loved that you could take a subway and have perfect timing as your guests were arriving from a completely different state via Penn Station in the middle of town. When they emerged, you could offer them their choice of anything in the world: it was all at your fingertips.

I even loved lugging my laundry down the block and reading in silent companionship with the other patrons while the machines buzzed and people dropped quarters into the soap dispenser.

I loved competitively hailing a cab and eventually saying with assertive confidence, "17th Street between 8th and 9th, please." I loved the feeling that I had mastered something new and that something so universal and expansive was becoming, in some small but specific way, mine--and I think it's annoyed me that I have never quite felt like I mastered living in Marquette.

Enthusiasm from Cafe Wha.

Guests.

These two offered shenanigans at our home away from home (away from home): Foley's.

We woke up one Saturday and our street had become a festival. I dream that happens one day on Lee Street.

Me, Jackie and Anna watching a movie in Bryant Park.

Welcome!

Let's pick up where we left off, no? We were sneakin' and peekin':

For such a small room (maaaybe 5'x5'? maaaybe), this has been one expensive, laborious process. When I moved in, there was wood paneling on the bottom half and particle board on the top. That's right, this sucker was not even dry-walled. To take the ugly up a notch, the former owners had half-heartedly applied pastel wall paper on the top half of the walls and the ceiling. I say 'half-heartedly' because I was able to pull the wall paper off with two fingers. It was an eyesore, and it also so happened to be the first thing people saw when they walked in. Excellent.

But as part of my Christmas present, my dad and brother (to the rescue again!) put tongue and groove cedar on the walls and trim. My dad also hooked up some wiring (you know, things dads do) and I got a new light fixture, as well as one with a motion detector for driveway.

Then in a steroid-fueled burst of energy (I guess I have something to thank my sports med guy for), I applied stain for the first time in my life. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be! The one take-away I have from this is that Pandora is useless when you are doing a project that is this messy. It will shut off and "ask" you if you are listening every so often... and every time, you will need to get off your ladder, clean your hands, click yes and grit your teeth while muttering curse words at modern technology. I don't really recommend this technique.

I then painted the trim white to match the adjacent door. Then I picked out a bright pink (I used the leftovers for the desk...) to paint the inside of the door. It's such a small room and I wanted a good pop of color.

(I should add, for accuracy, that I was going to have it dry-walled and paint the whole room white, until my dad and brother, ever so cautiously, suggested that tongue and groove would look good. I conceded, but was adamant that I would just paint it white to look like paneling. They cringed but knew not to argue. And then I stained it like they recommended and I love it and I hate when I am wrong especially about my own house so let's just move on already, okay? Gees. :)

I decided I wanted a lot of hooks. As you know, I am an out-of-sight, out-of-mind kind of girl. I like my things in front of me where it isn't possible to lose them or forget about them. So I picked out some nice big metal hooks and after some serious Nease-kid planning (me with the big crazy ideas and Jakey saying, "Well, Bobbi... let's think about this" while trying not to let on how incredibly bonkers I sound), my brother hung them with the precision of a brain surgeon. I love that kid. And I now owe him 741 beers.

I went with baskets because I saw it on Pinterest. No joke. I just like the way they look. I put Henley's leash and harness in them, as well as things I need to remember to bring to work, or my sunglasses, or just about anything really. They are handy!

Hey, guess what? I spent an entire afternoon scouring the antique stores in Ishpeming and Negaunee looking for the perfect bench. Thanks go out to Allison who was patient with my pickiness and then did not feign disgust when I picked out this beauty:

Before I painted it blue, it was a gross poopy-green color. (I just said 'poopy'. It was the only word to describe it.) I then used studded nails to secure the fabric over the top. I found the fabric at Ben Frankin's. It is a peachy-orangy squiggle pattern that looks nice next to the pink door.

The pillow is from my Front Street apartment. I probably will never use stud nails again. I wasted about as many as I used because I was so innacurate with the spacing.



I found the two orange frames at Big Lots for $4 each. They are a fun, texture-y raffeta. Inside, there are two pages from a book called Haiku for the Single Girl:

I smile to myself

Because I have a secret.

My time is my own.

Sadly, the only

Guy I'm going steady with

Is my bartender.

Color Explosion

As I mentioned the other day, I've been spending some time lately sprucing up my dining room. You have to understand that when I moved into this three-bedroom house, I had enough stuff for a two-bedroom apartment--just barely. Meaning it's taken me a year and a half to get to the point where I could put up art and fill a room with furniture.

I knew from the beginning that I wanted the dining room to be navy. In fact, it was the first room my mom and I painted. It took 3 coats! With the height of the ceiling, and the openness of the room (the dining room and kitchen are the same room, which spans the back half of the house's first floor), the color only serves to make it feel cozier, not boxed in. There is a big window and the room gets plenty of light, which plays off the crisp white trim.

I had a minor set-back in March...

..,in the form of a nasty leak stemming from a crappy roofing job. Daddy and Jakey to the rescue! (Plus three days worth of work by a contractor and a $500 insurance deductible...)

I have been stockpiling art (via Pinterest) and scoping out deals (like $195 for the 8x11 chevron rug) since Christmas, but I have been waiting for a piece of furniture to put at the end of the room. I thought it should be nice and wide, plus kind of low, to leave room for a wall of art, but when I walked in the Habitat for Humanity ReStore last weekend, they were having a liquidation sale to prepare for their move. Everything was 75% off and I snagged this desk and chair for $18.50:

Over the weekend, I sprayed two coats of primer and three coats of white semi-gloss over the entire set. At the last minute, I changed my mind on the matchy-matchy strategy and bought two bottles of chartreuse spray paint:

I used some metal spray paint for the handles; I was going to leave them in their original condition, but the buttery color didn't look good against the crisp white. I went shopping for fabric to use for the chair, but nothing stood out. (Here's the thing. Every since I was little, I would conjur up the perfect thing [blue sweater, jean jacket with cool buttons, red Jeep, whatever] and I would spend hours and hours trying to find it without settling for something else. I think it says that I'm not willing to settle; my mother--who spent those countless hours trying to convince me that the sweaterjacketJeepwhatever that was in front of us, on sale, was good enough--would tell you otherwise.)

Anyways, I realized after a trip to Walmart and Ben Franklin that what I was really looking for was a pattern that was on a rug that I picked up at a rummage sale last year. So, since I had two rugs and only one was being used next to Henley's water bowl, I just cut the rug to size and whipped out my staple gun. I really enjoy the results.

 

It's very playful and has a nice texture. I spray-painted a mirror that I have had since high school and leaned it on top, with a few pictures stuck in it. The gold bowl may get painted, but for right now I am just getting used to all the color in general. Here is a close-up of the rest of the items on top:

Clockwise from top left: A framed image of a dilapidated door that I found while Antiquing in Ishpeming, with years' worth of paint jobs peeling and rusting; a vase that finally found a home -- a birthday gift from my friend Kelsey last year; a paper crane; a wooden bowl from Jamaica and, at center, a frame I received for being a good employee at Target. The photo is from my first legal New Years' Eve.

The art on the wall is equally as random:

Clockwise from top left: Two bargain frames with approximately 15 paint layers on them; an empty frame surrounding a framed poster of Van Gogh's Starry Night (every apartment I've ever lived in has had some version of this painting); a framed owl print on a page from a dictionary; the leaning mirror from high school; and an engraved ABC's of life plaque, a graduation gift from a family friend.

In the corner, I stuck the fifth chair from my grandparents' dining set, which sit on top of the bargain chevron rug. You'll see a peek of that rug in a bit.

On the wall that faces the door, there are three other pieces of art, the first thing you see when you walk in, if you can manage not to be shocked by the pink top of the desk. I snagged the curtains from a friend's rummage sale for $4--they just showed up after weeks spent debating over a $75 version from Anthropologie. Thanks, Lucy.

Clockwise from top left: I can't decide if it's a placeholder or not, but this is just a framed ad from a magazine; a watercolor world map from Etsy that I found via Pinterest; and a sweet birthday gift from my friend Krista, a framed piece of art called "Roots and Wings" by an artist named Mika Holtzinger. Here's a better look at the map; the print Krista got me did not agree with my camera/the lighting, so you'll all have to come over for dinner and check it out.

The rest of the room is in progress, but here is a quick peek at the rug:

Don't mind the Windex and art piles on the table. I guess this picture also serves as a sneak peek of the entry way, which I'll post later in the week. The rest of the afternoon is strictly reserved for reading near the biggest window in the house, to take full advantage of the sounds of this beautiful rain.

The rest of my plans for the dining room include agate coasters, this NYC subway print, open shelving, this Aries poster (ring any bells?), this flight plan print, and the tree of life.  Though I may have to spread these plans to the living room yet, which sits empty but for a couch, chair, and art supplies. One room at a time, right?

Bobbi Lately

I'm a lazy blogger--this whole numbered/bulleted streak I'm on makes posting incredibly easy.

• Lately, I'm obsessed with drinking aloe. Don't knock it 'til you try it.  It started when the Co-op had Alo drinks on sale, but morphed into a full-blown addiction when I stumbled upon this Aloe Cocktail. Now my brain is on fire coming up with aloe cocktails of my own. Currently experimenting with Tart Cherry Juice for a yin-yang effect. So far 3 tbsp tart cherry + plus 4 tbsp whole-leaf aloe gel + juice of one lemon + club soda is the winner. It's really light, and is good for digestion and joint health, so winner-winner.

• Lately, I've been walking in the morning.  With my wonderful friend, Allison, and our two equally hilarious dogs. She takes the reins of Henley so that I don't have that additional strain on my body. It's been wonderful to start each morning swinging my arms freely (walking Rubin, who is approximately 1/9th the size of Henley), inhaling the fresh air and chatting with a supportive friend who shares a lot of my obsessions. It's also nice to walk into work feeling awake and ready to deal with people.

• Lately, I've been on the phone. With my insurance company, with my doctors and with the good people at Mayo Clinic. I'm trying to get a second (third? fourth?) opinion and an appointment with ONE doctor who can be my advocate and coordinate whatever comes next. No one is making this easy, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you. News flash, the health care system is jacked up.

• Lately, I've been feeling a little more wing-y than root-y. Restless, confident, ready for something.

• Lately, I've been sprucing up my dining room. I wanted a tribal/travel/color explosion theme. I'm close, and pictures will be posted shortly.

• Lately, I've been wondering if maybe John Mayer has been hanging out on a dusty shelf  in my heart. My friend Eric said, "This album is on point with the lonely well-intended generation." I adore Eric and I adore John, so of course I downloaded as soon as I got a free moment, and gees louise, Mr. Mayer, get out of my head. Pretty sure I am an architect of days that haven't happened yet is my tagline and this is my theme song:

You are hiding in your mind / Working all the time / To make it better than you got it / You been spending all your time / Searching for a sign / That's never gonna look the way you want it / Think you better wise up, boy girl

Things I've Googled Lately

1. "YOLO."

2. "Fracking." One of my Facebook friends casually used this in a status, and according to my research, it's kinda scary. (Somewhat related: DID YOU KNOW that we mine helium? And so therefore we can have a shortage of helium? This recently happened. Kinda makes you wanna think twice about inhaling it just to have a funny voice?)

3. "tl;dr." This upsets the very core of my English major. It also makes me feel very old, because upon Googling, I shook my fist at my iPhone and said, "Kids these days!" and then took a big gulp of my Metamucil.

4. "Weather." Every morning. Because how the hell am I supposed to dress this time of year? 42 degress in the morning but 89 degrees by 4pm? I cannot win. There is not an App for that.

5. "How to download books to the Kindle iPhone App." I can't find how to download new books, only how to upload books from a Kindle account. Welp, my dog ate my Kindle... but I can't find that in the help section!

6. "John Travolta scandal." WTF?

7. "Raw mint chocolate cheesecake." My recipe wheels are turnin'.

8. "Cute pill organizer."  This search came up inconclusive. I take so many damn supplements (so it needs to large), and I want to keep them in my purse (so it can't be too large), but I also want it to be cute. Allison... I found an idea for a third website!

9. "Cute comfortable brown leather flats that are on sale." In a moment of desperation, I just typed in exactly what I wanted... and you guys, it actually worked! Behold.

10. "Words ending in Z." Don't even tell me you've never Googled when playing Words With Friends! I rarely resort to this (English major pride again) but when you can get a triple-letter score on a Q and a triple-word score but the word must end in Z, you are going to bust out the Google, am I right? (You'll also then curse your iPhone addiction, because, duh, QUIZ.)

Up in the air

Per the ever-present theme of roots and wings in my life, change tends to send me scrambling for some certainty. I really only thrive when there is a balance. I am constantly searching it out.

I realize change is pretty much the theme of life ("Change is the only constant" and all), but I can only take so much of it before I need a good, healthy dose of something concrete. Today, for many reasons, was the tipping point. Whether the change is good (progress!), bad, or to-be-determined is usually not the point. After passing a certain threshold, I head for home.

One of the blessings of living in my hometown is that I can retreat to my parent's house in about 6 minutes. Tonight I watched the news with my dad, took a sauna, and holed up in my old bedroom watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother (I feel for you, Teddy) while waiting for my mom to get home from an event. It was exactly what I needed--my roots.

I know there is opportunity in change. I know change means growth. But change just leaves me a little up in the air. Albeit in really, really good company.

Dad and me at my undergrad graduation party, 2006.

 Jake and me in New York, 2011.

Mom and me in Rome, 2008.

Henley Boo-Boo on the way home from Wetmore, 2012.



Confessions

1.  I've recently started taking an hour nap when I get home from work. Usually that's a no-no, as it often times messes up my sleep that evening, but it hasn't affected anything. I wake up at 6 or 6:30 and go about my evening. I've been listening to my body and it's working. 

2.  I only want to change my name when I get married if my husband's name is really awesome. Bobbi McGee, yes. Bobbi Brown, maybe. Bobbi Johnson, eh. Bobbi Gyllenhaal, hell yes. Bobbi Brady, no.

3.  I'm alone a lot. And when you're alone a lot you have to choose your thoughts wisely. This is sometimes difficult for me--the choosing-the-thoughts part, not the being-alone part. When you're alone, there is no one to cheer you up or say, hey here's another way to look at that. Except for a 3-month-long period right after I bought my house, I have always loved being and living alone. I still do. In fact, it's pretty necessary sometimes. But I've been straying some with the positive thinking lately. The bright side (hey, look at me pointing out the bright side!) is that I'm aware of it and that makes me less likely to stray and more likely to steer myself back in the right direction when I begin to dwell.

4. I spent 45 minutes yesterday unsubscribing from places I've previously asked to send me email.  It was kind of like when you go a little nutty and before you know it, your whole house is sparkling clean (which has happened to me maybe twice in my adult life). I don't know what it was, but I just couldn't stand the state of my inbox at that moment. Fairwell, marketers.

5. I've never cut my own grass and I never really intend to. I'm pretty sure I'd be the girl who ran over her own foot. Begging my brother to help me out is much safer for all involved. 

6. I'm attending seven weddings this summer and do not plan to find a plus-one for any of them. This is equal parts terrifying and liberating.  If anyone gets married in 2013, there is a strong chance I may be in Brazil that weekend. Working on finding my plus-one.

7. I have been patiently waiting for two avocados to ripen since Saturday. It's embarrassing to confess how much of my time I've spent thinking about those avocados. I've even tried the banana-in-a-brown-paper-bag method. If all goes according to plan, I will be rolling in the guacamole for the next two days.

8. If eating homemade honey-almond butter by the spoonful is wrong, I don't wanna be right. Speaking of honey, I think I may have to start wearing a disguise when I stop by the co-op bulk honey stand. If you see a brunette in a 'stache in the bulk food aisle loading up on honey, please look the other way.

9. I'm kinda anti-social on Facebook. I would wager to guess that about 30% of my Facebook friends are unsubscribed on my feed (I just don't want to hear what you had for breakfast/whether or not your child's poop was normal this morning/how much you love your boyfriend of 2 months), and about 15% can't see my wall or pictures. I'm careful to post only things I would say in front of my Grandma on Facebook, but if there's a chance you might actually bring it up to my Grandma, you're blocked.

10. Sometimes it feels a little selfish to have a hot tub of my own. But then I turn up the jets and I practice choosing my thoughts.