Thank You, Paris!

Thank you to Paris for such a wonderful and much needed break. 

I had promised my daughter Rachel, who just finished her freshman year at NYU-Tisch, a trip to Paris when she graduated high school last year.  For so many reasons, we couldn’t take the trip, but this year we headed out from Wednesday, May 25 and came back Sunday, May 29.  (Marc came too to make it all a little easier to navigate--he's been there many times.)

I now understand why people fall in love with this city.  It was so beautiful and the people were so incredibly accommodating and nice. 

We stayed at the St. James Albany Hotel on Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Tuileries Gardens.  From our balcony we could look down onto the gardens.  To our immediate left, about a city block away, was the Louvre.  To our right and out a bit was the Eiffel Tower.

I have been in love with the Eiffel Tower for years, much as a teen girl loves the idol of the month—in others words, from posters and afar.  Seeing it with my own eyes was one of the high points of my life, for reasons I can’t even explain to myself.  But when I touched it, Marc was taking the picture, Rachel was in the picture with me, and Wil was on the phone.  It was special.

Our meals were wonderful and Rachel enjoyed the fact that she could drink legally.  She also found out that about 1 glass of wine is her limit, otherwise, “Oops, it’s happening again, I’m tipsy.”

The best thing I had to eat was an amuse bouche at Jasmin in St. Germaine de Pres.  It was a gazpacho made with asparagus and cream with a few flecks of red pepper.  The best escargot were at a brasserie around the corner of the  hotel whose name escapes me.  The best meal was an amazing poulet avec morrelles and I don’t know if what accompanied the chicken was potatoes or a potatoe pasta that was out of this world. 

Our taxi driver on the way home looked like Henry Kissinger and was a sweetheart.  The hotel staff were very helpful and always very polite.

I was a little intimidated that my high school French would be offensive to the people of Paris, but the reverse was true.  They appreciated—or seemed to appreciate—the effort the 3 of us made and were gracious to speak English when we struggled and happy to play along in French when we seemed to be plodding along well enough.

There was beauty everywhere and how it evidenced the appreciation the French people have for beauty in all of its forms.  From the very ornate fountain at the Place de la Concorde to simple flower boxes, from the immaculately clean streets to the simple display windows in the stores, everywhere the eye was greeted with something pleasing.

Merci beaucoup Paris!

No New Car...

I decided that needs win over wants, at least for now.  I don't need another car and so I'm not getting another car.  Let's see how Wil does as a student driver.  I'm being practical.  Ouch, it just doesn't feel like me!  

I did, however, see a gorgeous Audi A5 convertible on the road today.  Steel grey. Beautiful, just beautiful.  I wished I was driving it, the driver looked so happy!

My Next Car

I love cars.  I think I was a stable boy in a past life and have, over time, transferred the passion I feel for horses to cars.  I love sleek, sport cars.  I love convertibles.  I love stick shifts.  I know nothing about engines and the things under the hood, anymore than I understand the technology that powers cell phones, the Web, or my iPad, though I use those constantly, everyday, too.

My friends have teased me mercilessly over the years about the endless parade of cars through my life.  Since getting my first car 30 years ago, I have had 13 of them shown below (years are model years, not the year I got the car, and they are estimates):

1974 Dodge Dart, brown (used)

1983 Honda Civic hatchback, gold/beige (first new car)

1990 Nissan 240SX, black (new)

1988 BMW Sedan, dark grey (used)

1992 Nissan Altima, teal (new)

1998 Infiniti G20, red (new—worst car I ever had, never buying Infiniti again)

2000 Nissan Pathfinder, white (new)

2002 Saab hatchback, white (new)

2004 Mercedes E, black (used—tie for worst car I ever had)

2008 Mercedes ML-3, white (new)

2009 VW Beetle convertible, triple white (new)

2010 Eos, hardtop convertible, white (new)

2010 Audi Q5, black (new—best car I ever had and probably the best one I will ever have)

I hated the Dodge Dart.  My mom helped me buy it when I graduated college and I had wanted a smaller car with a stick shift, but all we could afford was the Dart.  It was in good condition for an older car, but it went downstream rapidly and was constantly leaving me high and dry. 

When I was at the first ad agency and feeling like I was starting to make a little money, even though it was a real stretch, I bought the Civic, my first new car.  It was good to me but it was not a lasting love. 

My first love was the sporty Nissan 240SX that I bought after my mom passed away in 1988, though I think I got it in 1990.  What I remember about that was how badly my then husband was behaving at the dealership.  He didn’t want me to spend my mom’s inheritance on the down payment for the car, though he had no problem using it for a down payment on his car or on updating our kitchen.  The dealership owner took me aside and said I was welcome anytime but to please not bring my husband.  The other thing that I remember is that the car didn’t last long—it was the first time I had to give up something I loved for Rachel—she came along in 1992 and her car seat didn’t go easily into the back seat of the 2-door 240SX.

I drowned my sorrows with my first “executive” car, a used, dark grey, black leather interior BMW, stick shift.  It was a good car, but the rear-wheel drive was a bitch in the snow.  I also was convinced people weren’t nice to me when I drove it, assuming I was an a-hole because I drove a B-mer.  No one let me into traffic, no one gave me a break.  Didn’t happen in any car before that, didn’t happen with any car since.  Form you own conclusions.

Next up was the Altima.  I saw another woman driving it and fell in love (with the car).  I got it in teal with cream leather interior.  It was a wonderful car, very reliable.  I held onto that one for a while until the interior started to look worn and my head was turned by the new, red, Infiniti G-20, which turned out to be one of the 2 worst cars I ever owned.

I wanted the Infiniti J-30 (which looked a lot like the mid-range Nissan, the Altima) but went for the low-end Infiniti that I could afford (which looked like Nissan’s low end Sentra).  It was a piece of crap from the word “Go.”  It looked great but rattled like crazy and I lost a lot of valuable time driving back and forth to the dealership trying to get it remedied.  Rather than try to make a lemon law claim, I just turned it in and got another new car, this time a white Nissan Pathfinder, leather interior. 

(Actually, every car that could have had leather interior did.  The only pleathers were the Dart, the Civic and the VW Bug.)

Then came the leased Saab, the only time I leased.  It was white with tan interior.  I liked it but didn’t love it.  What I remember about it was the hard-ass negotiating I did to get it (the sales guy expected a cream puff and got a piranha) and the time I was in the service waiting area and had a nice conversation with a woman who said I should talk with her daughter who worked at Johnson & Johnson.  I thought she wanted me to give her daughter a job. “Oh, no honey, I think she can help you.  She’s in charge of marketing several products there.”  I had lunch with her daughter and the rest is history. 

After the Saab I “upgraded” to a Mercedes, albeit used.  It was a horror show.  Even though I did my homework on the car, it turned out to have one problem after another.  So then I bought, at a great price, a new Mercedes SUV.  At first it was disappointing because it had a number of problems:  unbalanced steering (pulled hard to the right), electronic issues with the gas cap, warning lights coming on for no reason, etc.  But then it settled down and was actually a very nice car.  But never a great car.

While I had the Mercedes, I also bought, for fun, a convertible VW Bug that I nicknamed Digby (Digital Brand Expressions).  I really enjoyed it, but then money got tight during the recession, Rachel wasn’t getting her license as expected, and so I traded both Digby and the Mercedes for an Eos.

That was a mistake.

The kids complained about how cramped the back seat was.  Nobody loved the roof being down but me.  And it was simply too small to have as the only car for a family.

So less than 9 months later, I turned in the Eos, which was one sexy looking car, for the love of my car life, the Audi Q5.  The Audi Q5 is a small SUV.  It’s shaped like an SUV, it has room in the cargo area for “stuff,” but it is a true luxury vehicle everywhere else.  Leather seats, great sound system, “wood” trim.  It’s beautiful, it rides great, and I absolutely love it.  Love it. Love it.

So what is the purpose of this post?  I’m in conflict.  I’ve got the fever again.  I am staring at the Eos’ I see and thinking, “That could be me driving that.”  I don’t want to turn in my Q5, I love that car. 

But then again, I don’t need another car.  But I am working 70 hours a week and I want to enjoy the summer in a convertible.  But I don’t need to spend money on another car.  But I would really enjoy driving a stick shift convertible. 

I could lease it…

Stay tuned.

Post Mother's Day Celebration

Sunday was Mother's Day.  It was a day to remember, and I will, always.

Rachel couldn't be home because of the work she was doing at NYU, but she did give me a beautiful bouquet of roses when Wil, Hei, and I went to the city on Saturday to bring home some of her things for the end of the school year.

On Sunday, Wil spent the whole day WITH me and surprised me by taking me out to lunch at one of our favorite spots.  Ever the gentleman, he paid for everything and tipped well.

Rachel checked in twice to make sure I was enjoying the day.

Marc, Wil and I went to a friend's 50th late in the afternoon, didn't stay long because I was very tired, and headed back home to relax together.

I think it was my best Mother's Day so far.  Why?  Because my kids showed me they cared in ways that really meant something to me.  Every good mom wants to know she's doing a good job.  Having kids who show they care shows you're getting some things right.

And They're Off!

Boy, I just looked at my 4-16-11 post and realize it’s been a while, so I thought “I’d better post something new lest people think my Hell days continued. Actually, it’s been a busy 3 weeks but for the most part, it’s good. At work, we landed a very exciting new client and are having lots of good conversations with potential clients and potential strategic partners—I feel very energized.


And it's Kentucky Derby Day.  They're about to start any minute now.


So, I just got back from NYC, picking up some of Rachel’s clothes, books, etc. to help empty her room as her freshman year winds down. Wil and his girlfriend, Hei, took the ride with me and all 4 of us had lunch together at a little place on a corner of Greenwich whose name already escapes me. There was a street festival going on right outside, with booths and lots of decadent, fried food. The entire time we were in the restaurant I could see the Zeppoles, Deep Fried Oreos, Calzones sign taking up a good 33% of my view. I didn’t want them, but my brain kept reminding me they were a possibility.


Rachel had surprised me with a bouquet of beautiful pink roses for Mother’s Day when we got to her dorm today. She can’t come home tomorrow and I honestly didn’t expect her to give me anything. How sweet and wonderful it was. She’s turning into a really cool person. And a true New Yorker. Now when we need to go somewhere it’s she who knows where we’re going and it’s me who’s following. Although I did keep pulling her back when she tried to cross the street when the sign said not to—even when there weren’t cars coming.


We didn’t stay long, much to Rachel’s chagrin. I worked over 70 hours this week, and she didn’t understand that I'm tired and get anxious about the parking outside her building, the logistics of the luggage and other things we had to drag downstairs. We did get lucky and there was a spot when I came up the block with the car. Hei, Wil and Rach got everything in. It was good to see her and hug her. I miss her so much.


I know I was annoying her when I kept trying to protect her while crossing the streets. I told her when I Skyped her a few minutes ago—“You’re becoming quite a woman and I’m really impressed with you—but you need to understand that while I apologize for forgetting you don’t need me to cross the street, you’ll always be baby Rachel to me.”


Man, where does the time go? They’re almost both all grown up.  


The horses have reached the starting gate.  And they're off!


Thank you, Universe for all the good stuff. :-)

Day From Hell, Parts 1 and 2

We all complain from time to time about the day from hell.  Then we hear about someone else’s day from hell and ours doesn’t seem quite so bad.  So here’s my day from hell for Friday, April 15 (and what happened the day before that set it up) and how I got through it:

I woke up on Friday determined to shake off the day before.  Thursday had been a series of annoyances and challenging emotions--being upset and trying to understand the other person’s situation that was causing my upset.  I was great at making the other person feel okay, but I wasn’t doing well because each situation made me uncomfortable because I was the one “sucking it up” and going on as if everything was “okay.”  For example:  the cleaning lady who is a wonderful, sweet, reliable person overslept and called after she was an hour late saying it would be another half hour before she could arrive.  Okay, I rolled with it and moved some projects around.  Separately, a great person was leaving my company after many reconfigurations of trying to make things work and me finally pulling the trigger that it wasn’t.  The other employees don’t understand the situation and I’m left feeling like the bad guy that I’m not.

There were many new business projects in key stages to be dealt with, and then the emotions of the day got the better of me, I felt sad and awkward, and I went home early and planned to work late.  I was one cup of coffee into my evening when a series of unanswered calls to my son and ex-husband and his girlfriend revealed my ex had hit something on the road, had a flat, and was in a bad spot.  Discovering the approximate location, I drove out to try to help only to see flashing lights as I approached.  Heart in throat, I drove closer and saw they were both okay.  Emotional words about cell phones being off were exchanged as was a hug and kiss for Wil and I drove back home, shaken and tired.  

Marc was a a hockey game so I worked well into the night after 2 calls to my sister who has a way of making me feel better no matter what (thanks B!).  Sometime in the evening I found that one of the cats had, again pooped outside the litter box, off in a corner--a new twist on things that had started the previous Saturday when my son’s friends were in the basement where the litter box is kept.  I cleaned it up, ranting at both cats about how this was all they needed to do to find themselves back at the shelter from which we adopted them as kittens.  Unlike a dog who will at least act penitent, cats just look at you like the crazy person you clearly are.

During the long hours at my computer, the cats were nearby and at one point around 10:00 p.m. Glinda came up to me and I ruffed her head and we looked into each other’s eyes.  All was forgiven, as usual.

So I was determined on Friday to start fresh.  It was a day that should have gone smoothly.  We had officially landed a new client the night before (perspective:  so Thursday wasn’t all bad) and I had a call with another potential new client scheduled for 10:00.  There were some things I needed to review, a few strategic initiatives to tackle,  and then I was going to take my son to get his driver permit paperwork submitted and to look at cars.

Uh uh..

Right before the 10:00 call, I realized that I still hadn’t seen Glinda that morning and didn’t recall Marc saying he’d found her.  We both had observed not seeing her in the morning over coffee, but that wasn’t unheard of--her highness usually shows up later in the morning than the other cat, her brother, Jerry.

At 9:45, I started looking for her, expecting to find her under a chair in the bedroom of Marc’s daughter, Ali.  I could’t find her anywhere on the two main levels so headed to the finished basement, expecting to find her on the new sofa and ready to shoo her off.  

Instead, I found her dead at the bottom of the stairs.

I knew she was dead before I saw her eyes.  

I called Marc, then the vet.  The vet called me back.  I postponed my 10:00 call via Marc.  I spoke with the vet about Rachel having lost her dog, her grandmother, and now her cat in just a few months time.  The vet recommended against Rachel seeing the cat “like this” but I knew Rachel would need the visual confirmation.  I convinced the vet’s office staff to go against protocol and not freeze Glinda until Rachel and WIl could decide if they wanted to see her one more time.

Rachel was taking the train to Rutger’s to visit friends there.  I called her and said I missed her and could I come give her a hug at the station before she visited her friends.  She said, “Sure” and we agreed to meet at 1:35.  Then I drove with Marc to the vet, left Glinda there, went to Wil’s school, told him the bad news.  I had been concentrating on Rachel because technically Glinda was her cat, but realized of course Wil would be very upset too.  Of course he was upset and he came home with me.  Marc went back to the office, Wil and I waited around until it was time to go to the train station.  Then we waited, WIl hanging back until Rachel saw us.  She saw me and smiled, then saw WIl, asked him why he was playing hooky, the look that something was up spreading on her face.  I quickly hugged her, held her, and whispered that Glinda had died.  She instantly cried out “No!” and she became hysterical, wailing, chocking.  We sat--all 3 of us--and hugged her and waited for her wailing to subside.  She looked like zombie as we walked to the car and drove the half hour to the vet.  The emotion was about the cat, and then again, it was about more--just as we knew it would be. 

(Freshman year at college is hard enough.  Being in a challenging academic program makes it harder.  Put that program in NYC when you’ve only lived in the ‘burbs your whole life--more stress.  Roommate challenges--pile it on.  Have your dog be put to sleep right before you start it all at the end of August.  Wow.  Now add your beloved Nana dying right after spring break....  Had enough?  But wait, there’s more--now your 6-year-old cat just died.  Go ahead honey, cry--let it out!)

They were pulled together by the time we got back to vet in Princeton.  The vet’s team  made Glinda look peaceful, repositioning her and closing her eyes.  (Many thanks!)

Wil was very upset about the cat but also because by leaving school early, he didn’t get to spend time with his girlfriend before she left for a family trip to California for a week.  I said of course she can come over after Marc agreed to be chaperone because I assumed I was driving Rachel back up to Rutger’s right away.  It turned out that now Rachel’s friend couldn't meet her until 8:30.  Okay, change of plans:  Wil hangs out with his girlfriend, Rachel and I have mom-daughter time.  Marc goes to his home office and works.  (Marc, you are a trooper!)

Bill arrives to take Wil for the weekend and afterwards Rachel falls asleep on the couch.  Up at 7:30, out at 7:45 to get to New Brunswick by 8:30. Incoming texts say her friend is sending a proxy to meet Rachel because she’s tied up until 9:00.  Rachel knows the other girl and they exchange a series of text messages about where exactly to meet.  Frustration growing as pedestrian friend doesn’t know street names or building numbers and gives directions designed for other Rutger’s students.

New Brunswick is an absolute zoo.  It takes us an hour to drive through this very very small city.  Bumper to bumper, lights changing with no progress, something is going on but we can’t tell what it is.  Inching--literally--our way down George Street I can feel my blood pressure going up, my face flushing from the agitation.  

Finally we get to Hamilton Avenue and see a host of firetrucks, ambulances, and police lights several blocks ahead.  Traffic is at all but a stand still.  I ask Marc to walk Rachel to meet her friend’s friend which will be faster than I can drive the last 1/2 mile.  Kisses and love you’s and Rachel is off.  I continue to plod along until I can finally turn onto College Avenue and pull off to the side, flashers on, parallel to the “grease trucks” and the hordes of students feeding on a Friday night.  

Marc finds me 15 minutes later and we head out, moving faster now, then turn right and see Route 18 and supposed paradise--the promise of open lanes and a fast exit.  

But of course not.  

Every driver seems to be on adrenaline and steroids and we witness (and are a part of) 3 near misses before, in seconds, we come upon a newly minted accident in the left lane, cars smashed, EMTs working hard to get things right.  The police haven't’ arrived yet so we’re able to move around the accident quickly.  Sidebar, the other side of the highway is at a stand-still just like in-town had been.  

I feel like I’m in the Murder by Auto video game, which is what my mouth says when I mean to say Grand Theft Auto as I quickly dart around the other cars and move to the fast lane, joining in the chaos and driving well over the speed limit, zig-zagging my way to Route 1 and the familiarity of insanely timed lights.

Two and a half hours after leaving our home for what should have been an hour-long jaunt, we sit down at the Ruby Tuesday’s on Route 1 in Princeton and I succumb to mac and cheese--the ultimate comfort food--and tears.

On an up note, today seems (suspiciously) quiet.

Hello Universe? I Think I Hear You Listening

This morning I wrote the outline of the table of contents for a chapter I’m doing for a book being written for a hot segment in the marketing industry.  It was flattering to be invited to contribute a chapter, and I’m thankful to be given a kick start for writing professionally.  

At the same time, Rachel’s screenplays are getting better and better.  She shared one with me on Wednesday that was very powerful.  I was so certain her class and professor would love it and was shocked that they “didn’t get it" when she read it for them on Thursday.  She’s being so cool about working in their notes and holding onto the integrity of her piece.  Her game plan is to resubmit what the people want but to hold onto her original, more streamlined piece to submit to writers’ contests or festivals or to wherever it is that screenplays get submitted.

Then, as it turned out, Marc and I were at separate networking events in the city that night and took Rachel out to dinner with us afterwards.  We ate at Gotham Bar & Grill on 12th Street in the West Village, one of my two favorite areas of the city (the other is Murray Hill).  She was so funny and intelligent that night.  The conversation the three of us had was one of the best I’ve had all year.  Very inspiring and motivating.  How funny that one of the sparks for my writing more often is my daughter going off to college to be a writer.

How nice that another spark is the woman who invited me to contribute the chapter.  Her name is Shari Thurow and we met when I spoke at conference last year.  I’d always admired her and she came up to me after the panel discussion and was so complementary of my company’s practical approach to social media.  And here it is, a year later, and she’s asked me to write a chapter for an upcoming book.

Another door that has opened is that American Express Open is looking for business owners to write content for it’s blog.  I requested more info and they asked me to submit some ideas for blogs I would post, so this is another potentially large-exposure writing assignment I’ll be doing.  Coincidentally (or is it the Universe making sure I know it’s paying attention?), I met the woman who heads Amex Open at the networking event/panel discussion in NYC on Thursday evening.  Her name is Marcy Shinder and she is brilliant and very down to earth at the same time.  She was one of the panelists at the event, which was hosted by the NY Business Marketing Association at the Forbes building.

The funny thing about all of this is that I’ve been actively thinking about ways to be creative, write more, and generate income from my activities.   I have just finished Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and am working through the companion workbook.  In setting out plans for one set of objectives I wrote about how important it has always been to me to write.  One of the exercises is to think about what kind of work you fantasized about doing when you were young.  I have fond memories of sitting at my roll-top desk in our basement “playing newspaper.”  I was the publisher:  I wrote editorial pieces and ran the business side too.  

Today I head a company that does a great deal of content marketing though I myself do very little writing other than proposals and presentations.  I need a channel for my right brain and for now, this blog and my little forays into writing more often professionally are helping.  It’s a start that I think is going somewhere.å