One Year in NYC

On May 28, 2012, my mom and my aunt drove me and a few of my boxes from Wilkes-Barre to NYC. We said goodbye, they got back in the car, and I stayed behind. Andrew took me to dinner, I set up my stuff temporarily in a stranger's spare bedroom on the Upper West Side, and I wondered if I could really get a full-time job out of the minimum wage internship I'd signed on for.

Exactly one year later, here I sit in the apartment Matt and I share on the Upper East Side, in an area we never dreamed we could afford. Sticking out of my computer is a flash drive full of work that I have to get to—manuscripts to copyedit, PDFs to proofread, proposals to review—and on my to-do list, conveniently placed beside the mouse on my right-hand side, is at least one chapter of a young adult book I'm helping a friend develop. None of these words (copyediting, proofreading, proposals, reviews, developing, manuscripts) were part of my vocabulary this time last year.

I have a full-time job; I have a pretty great apartment in an amazing city; I have the most supportive, understanding, and loving family anyone could ever ask for; and I'm in a healthy, long-term relationship with a guy who's really shown his true colors this past year. Respectable, dedicated, loyal, hardworking, sweet, creative, intelligent, and just the right amount of funny—Matt has it all, and I would follow him to the ends of the earth and support him in any decision he made. And, in the past year, I've felt as though he's proven that he would surely do the same for me.

Although the days aren't long enough and the work is beyond stressful, I wouldn't change a single thing about this past year—mostly because I'm doing so many things I always wanted to do, but never had the chance to do in W-B. Aside from all the previously mentioned job-related things, I'm meeting new people and have a handful of new friends with similar interests (interests rarely found in those at home...); I'm expanding my palate and have come to love particular cuisines (although pizza still reigns supreme); I'm more independent than I ever was in the past, and I'm enjoying taking care of myself... and Matt; and I'm finally feeling... settled. And content. (When I'm not stressed out of my mind from work.)

Other big accomplishments this year, in various categories:

• I've acquired almost twenty books. I'm at seventeen or eighteen now.
• I've almost beaten my fear of stepping on and off escalators, though the old rickety ones in Macy's still make my legs shake.
• I'm more comfortable making phone calls and am now about 80 percent certain that people don't laugh at my cluelessness or stumbling words when I hang up.
• I can read a map! And am not as directionly challenged as I was this time last year. Give me a second to figure out where we are, and most of the time I can get us pointed in the right direction.
• I can walk in heels! Little, itty bitty heels. But heels nonetheless. And only in short spurts.
• I've put my candle, lotion, and body spray obsession to bed. I honestly don't think I've bought a single scented item (minus air fresheners and cleaning supplies) since I moved. Though I do graciously accept gifts and donations.
• I'm no longer planning every, single, second of my days. Sure, I use a planner, but I used to be... so bad. So. Bad. And I think I've finally relaxed a bit. I'm not spontaneous, but I've definitely learned how to become available and move things around.
• I can jog 8 minutes without dying! I jogged my first half-mile (and then did another!) on Sunday with my mom and sister and didn't have to stop once. It's a good feeling, considering even five weeks ago, I could barely make it through 1 minute.

May 30 is my one-year anniversary at work; I started as an intern that day. And July 2 is my one-year anniversary as a full-time employee. It's crazy how quickly this year has passed. If you had asked me even two years ago if I thought I (or, we... when Matt is factored in) would ever be living and working in NYC, I would've said "I hope so," but it wouldn't have held much confidence. It was always something I wanted, but never anything I was absolutely certain I would attain. It's also something I never really knew how much I wanted until it actually happened. And now that it has... I couldn't imagine my life without it.

I think it's only (or oddly?) appropriate that on my one-year anniversary of moving to the city that I announce that I signed my first contract today. Matt and I will be compiling a quote book for publication in Spring 2014, in April or May. The book will contain quotes about food, restaurants, cooking, kitchens, and eating and is, in our opinion, our relationship to a T. It'll be a lot of research, but it'll also be a lot of fun, and we're looking forward to putting it together... and then pushing everyone to buy it. ;)

Happy anniversary to me! And hopefully the night ends with either a glass of wine or some ice cream.

And water, of course.

Safari Exteriors, Salivary Stones, and Other Stressors

Finally figured out why my blog is getting about twenty hits a day: SPAM.

And how did I figure it out? Because these comments keep appearing on my entry about apartment hunting:

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So at first I thought I had a bunch of Nosy Nancys on my FB friend list, but then I realized that somehow this particular blog entry got linked to somewhere weird. They can keep leaving these comments and I can keep marking them as spam; I care not. A hit's a hit. So keep 'em coming, spambots!

IN OTHER NEWS . . .

Our anniversary, Justin's visit, my trip home to W-B, and Stan's visits were all successful. They kind of went like this:

Wednesday, April 17: Twenty or so courses of wine, beer, and sake followed by a coffee.
Thursday, April 18: A glass of wine, a cocktail, and a coffee.
Wedneday, April 24: Red bull after lunch, giant bowl of Ramen soup for dinner.
Thursday, April 25: Two cocktails, and a coffee.
Friday, April 26: A can or two of soda and a glass or two of wine.
Saturday, April 27: An after-dinner coffee and a glass or two of wine.
Wednesday, May 1: A cocktail and an after-dinner coffee.
Thursday, May 2: Two cocktails and an after-dinner coffee.

Plus a cup of coffee each morning, sometimes one in the afternoon, a few more Red Bulls, a handful of diet sodas, and very, very, very little water following all that wine before bed. (There's a point to this tally, I promise.)

The morning of May 2, I thought the area around my left ear/jaw kind of hurt a bit. It felt a little swollen by the end of the day, and I feared that I was getting one of my beyond stellar ear infections. So I figured I'd give it the weekend and then call my doctor on Monday if it was still bugging me.

But then Friday, May 3, I woke up and my cheek felt like it was the size of a golf ball. Of course, it wasn't that bad. But it squared off my jawline Channing Tatum–style. And it hurt like HELL. I freaked out, naturally. (It was my FACE.) And called my doctor as soon as I got to the office.

Phone call?

(Give my name, my doctor's name, the receptionist asks what's wrong.)
Me: I woke up this morning and my face near my jaw and ear is really swollen and very tender.
Receptionist: Is there any swelling of your sinuses? Runny nose or sore throat? Congestion?
Me: No. No congestion at all. Just this swollen part of my cheek, kind of.
Receptionist: Hold on a second. (She puts the phone down.) She has congestion and swelling in her sinuses. (Picks the phone back up.) The doctor can see you at 1.
Me: Okay, but there's no congestion. My face is just swollen.
Receptionist: Okay, see you at 1.

Uh huh...

So at this point, my face hurts so bad that I can't even open it wide enough to put the spoon from my yogurt in. I try to eat one of those soft Nature Valley granola bars and can't even chew it. So, what do I fill up with? More coffee!

At 1, my doctor scares the shit out of me and says my ears are fine, my teeth look fine (wisdom teeth, a-okay), and my sinuses aren't clogged. She's absolutely stumped and runs out to call an ear, nose, and throat doctor to see if one can squeeze me in. Before I head to a specialist a few blocks away, she says it's nothing in my lymph nodes and assures me that it'll be fine.

But the entire time, I'm thinking... This is my FACE.

So after more paperwork and about a half hour of waiting in the ENT's office, he spends two minutes with me and tells me I have a salivary stone and the fluid leads him to believe that there's a back up of infected saliva in my face. (If you want to see gross, Google "salivary stone" and go to Images.) It's like a kidney stone, all calcified and shit, IN. MY. FACE.

He gives me an antibiotic (three pills, three times a day—no joke) and tells me to also take two Motrin when I take the antibiotics. So... That's fifteen pills a day.

He also tells me this happened because I was severely dehydrated. Gee, I wonder why... (See list above.) The stone could pass on its own, he says, but I need to stay as hydrated as possible.

I have never drank so much water, Gatorade, and Vitamin water in my life. But again. FACE. Not taking any chances.

So I went back for my follow-up today and even though there's a bit of pain, he thinks it passed on its own. Which is lucky. Because he said that to actually pull a stone out, he'd have to enlarge the salivary duct in my mouth and go in and yank it out. Like a loose tooth. Wonderful mental image, no? Don't quite believe me? Google.

I celebrated my recovery with a tall skinny vanilla latte. And immediately followed it with not one, but two, cups of water. I'd like to say I learned my lesson, and I hope that I'll remember to suck down some water after my bedtime glass of wine on the weekends. We'll see, though.

DESPITE ALL THIS DRAMA . . .

5K training continues! I made it through Week 3 with little difficulty (minus the one day the treadmill shut off on me mid-stride and I had to try to figure out how to finish the program) and even spent two nights in the park with Matt, walking/jogging around the reservoir, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

But Week 4 started out as impressive and became disappointing all within twenty minutes. I've never before in my entire life jogged five full minutes without stopping, but I did it on Sunday! But then, when it came time to run the second leg of the program, I just couldn't do it. Maybe it was my sweaty bangs in my eyes, or maybe it was the jelly beans bouncing around in my stomach that I ate as I ran out the door to head to the gym, but I just couldn't do it. And I was so pissed.

But after a little chat with Michele and others, I'm ready to give it another shot tomorrow. And Wednesday and Thursday with Matt, too. I'll get through Week 4 eventually, even if it takes me a week or two to do it.

And I'll drink lots of water before and after my workouts, too. Can't risk any more swollen salivary glands. That shit hurts.