Double Trouble

So I'm sitting on the couch, watching TV, minding my own business, when I hear a noise.

Now, having only lived in my 100 year old house a little over a year, as I have, I am not quite used to all the random noises that it makes. And, having been plagued with plumbing issues as we have, a noise is never just the house settling or the furnace humming to life. It is much more likely to be a pipe bursting, a major leak, or some other household disaster that I am ill equipped to fix.

Turns out, it was none of those.

As I looked around wildly to figure out what it could be and then decided that whatever it was could wait until David came home - since he is the best homeowner to ever walk the planet, and then solution to all of my home repair and improvement needs - the source of the noise rolled towards me.

It seems that David had bought himself a robot a la The Good Wife to take to his trade shows so that he could have one of his employees helping him man the booth while not actually being physically present at the show.

He calls it his Double, and while its primary use is for his upcoming trade show in Texas, until that day arrives he is using it to scare the hell out of me as frequently as possible.

Witness the picture above.

While my attention was focused elsewhere, he rolled himself (and his dad, who who he was visiting) over to the side of the couch and waited patiently for me to notice him - and jump three feet in sheer terror once I did. And he and his dad laughed and laughed.

This Friday the Double will be taking a trip to South by Southwest in Austin, Texas, but until then he is gracing the corner of my living room keeping R2-D2 company. 

Because who wouldn't want a living room filled with robots, of all shapes and sizes? Now if I could only teach one of them to do the laundry. Then we would be talking.

A Company Was Born

It was just before we got married that he came up with the idea. 

He had spent the year before perfecting a more powerful, more versatile and less expensive version of the Microsoft Surface, which he called the mTouch. The mTouch was a multitouch coffee table that functioned like a giant iPhone, and it had garnered some pretty serious attention. So, one weekend in August of 2010, I flew to Pittsburgh for my bridal shower and he flew to Los Angeles, where he would spend the next few days showcasing his tables at the ESPN X-Games.

And while he was there, ESPN asked if he could allow people to Check-in in Four-Square, Follow them on Twitter and "Like" things on Facebook straight from the tents at the Games. But the Apps were slow, Wi-Fi not readily available, and it took far too long for every visitor to log in using the mTouch.

And he thought, wouldn't it be great if these people could "Like," "Follow," and "Check-In" instantly?

A few weeks later, a company was born. He called it Social Passport.

And in the past three years, Social Passport has grown into a complete social marketing platform for retailers with methods to drive traffic and reward customers, and with a point-of-sale terminal that revolutionizes the way retailers do business.

I married an entrepreneur, and I am crazy proud.

And this month he's taking Social Passport on the road. 

First it was this booth at the International Restaurant show at the Jacob Javitz Convention center. 

And as soon as the show closed last night, he packed up the booth and got it ready for its next stop.

Because today. Today he is on his way to the airport with his booth to catch a flight to Austin where he will be setting it up at the South by Southwest Festival Trade show.

I wish I could be there too but, alas, I have to work, so I'll be in New York, keeping the home fires burning. But if you happen to be in the Austin area starting on Sunday, head on over to Booth 627 at the show and check it out. 

Tell him I said hi, and pick up one of these rockin' t-shirts.

D. Wishing you lots of luck. You make me proud, every single day. As always, I'm amazed.

What's the Rush?

Rush Hour.

When I was living in Manhattan, I never really thought too much about rush hour. I just got on the subway approximately 20 minutes before I needed to be at work, and between 11 and 15 minutes later, including a coffee stop, I was standing in my office. 

But now that getting to work involves a half hour train ride and a trek through Grand Central Station, I think about rush hour quite a bit. 

On the White Plains side, it is all pretty calm. I park my car, get on the train, and settle in for a peaceful ride. Sometimes I read blogs, sometimes I read a book, sometimes I stare out the window and consider ideas for my own blog, and sometimes I just sit and think.

But about five minutes outside of Grand Central, something happens. People start to move around and gather their things. Blackberries come out, and e-mail is checked. And astonishingly, some people even get up out of their seats and line up at the door, so that they can be first off of the train when the doors open. And then they just stand around, twitchy, until they can finally disembark. As if the two minutes they save by not waiting to get up until the train stops make that big of a difference. Grand Central is the last stop. There is no way to get trapped inside the train.

And once the doors do actually open? Pandemonium. People rush around, run down corridors, and walk as if the building is on fire and their very life depends on how quickly they can get above ground. And even though I absolutely abhor rushing, if you don't keep pace with the crowd, you will certainly get mowed down.

I took the picture above as I was keeping that pace during my commute on Wednesday morning. I kind of like that it is blurry, because that is how those minutes between the train and the door to Grand Central feel. Blurry, fast and frantic.

There is something insane about Manhattan that makes everyone feel like they have to rush. And even though I lived here for more than seven years, that was something I could never quite get used to. In my world, being five minutes late to work is not the end of the world, standing in line an extra minute or two will not kill you, and the faster you go, the more likely you are to miss something interesting (like the fab bag the girl in the picture is carrying. I nearly stopped her to ask her where she got it, but I couldn't catch up).

So I am making a vow for my commuting days. A vow to not get caught up in the crowd. To skirt alongside the rush. To walk a little slower. And to always, always stay seated until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open to the start of my day.

Summer Nights

It started with a convertible ride into the night. 

We headed out on our Labor Day weekend getaway with the top down, the starry sky soaring above, and a best of the 90s playlist on the iPad. For two hours our hair blew in the sultry evening breeze, as we chatted about everything and nothing, and laughed as we relived the soundtrack of our high school days. 

As we flew down the open road, it occurred to me that I would remember this night forever. Being young, wild, free, and together. Reveling in the journey, giving little thought to the destination.

It was the kind of perfect summer night that country songs are made of.

And for those few hours, as summer drew to a close, it was our night. 

Our endless summer.

Reading and Living in the City

It probably goes without saying that Manhattan is a place unlike any other. Depending on the day and the subject, this is either a good thing or a bad thing. We can get anything we want, at any time of the night - delivered if we so choose (good thing). We have to commute to work on crowded subways carrying passengers in various stages of cleanliness (bad thing). We have 843 acres right in the middle of our city of grass, woods, trails, and fields in which to play (good thing). We live in teeny-tiny apartments and consider ourselves lucky when said apartments boast full size kitchens and closets (bad thing). And the list goes on.

After seven years of living and working in this city, I have come to understand and appreciate Manhattan both for what it is, and what it is not. I love it for all of the things that it has given me - a law degree, a husband, incredible friends, a backbone, and epic adventures. And I dislike it, sometimes immensely, for all the annoyances that come with city living - carrying grocery bags home in the pouring rain, lack of closet space, barking dogs in the apartment next door, and steaming hot subway platforms. Needless to say, I have complicated feelings about Manhattan.

But even with all the complexity, sometimes something emerges from this city of ours that is magic. That makes me say, in that moment, "I am really glad to live here." I had one of those moments recently, and because it is Tuesday, the day where I pass along fun and happy things that I discover, I thought it was the perfect time to share.

You all know that I am loud and proud when it comes to the books I read. I love to read on buses, subways, and pretty much anywhere I have a free few minutes. And even more than I love to read during my commutes though, I love to look around to see what everyone else is reading. This has become more difficult lately due to the ubiquity of e-readers. When Kindles abound, we who like to spy on readers and their book selections have a choice to make. We can either decide to let our curiosity dissipate, or we can hover over the Kindle user's shoulder to try and catch the title of the book that lives at the top of the screen while simultaneously attempting the correct body language so as not to come across as a creepy stalker. I have tried this second option, many times. It's a hard balance to strike. Trust me.

So those of us who like to carry actual books and watch other people who carry actual books are usually left disappointed and wondering what will become of our most favored accessory now that e-readers rule the day.

Enter today's bit of fun.

While perusing some blogs the other day, I stumbled upon a link to something called the Underground New York Public Library. In 2008, a photographer named Ourit Ben-Haim got an idea. Her idea was to ride the New York City subways, and take pictures of readers. For four years she has haunted subway trains and platforms, capturing straphangers immersed in the pages of books. Not in the screens of e-readers, but in the actual pages of actual books. And late last year, she turned her work into a blog.

Every day she posts pictures of people consuming their literature of choice, and invites her followers to look and to comment. The pictures are generally candid, and the subway lines are never disclosed. Ourit doesn't provide editorials, or stick to a particular author or genre. She doesn't seek out a specific class of individuals. She just looks for people holding books, and she takes their picture. Late last week she even caught a woman reading a Nora.

The result of Ourit's efforts is a stunning portrait of the community of readers that meets below the city streets. A community that I love, and a community of which I am a frequent member. At a time where countless people are embracing the anonymity of the e-reader, her work has never been more important.

I have spent a good part of my life connecting with people through the books that we read, and feel an instant kinship with the readers portrayed on the pages of Ourit's Underground Public Library. I get a little thrill when I spy a picture of someone reading something familiar to me, and have even copied down titles of books I don't recognize to add to my ever-growing library. I hope you will take a minute on this otherwise ordinary Tuesday to check out Ourit's blog, and I hope that one of her pictures speaks to you, as they do so often to me. Together, we will keep tangible books en vogue for a long time to come.

To Share or Not to Share?

I was a sophmore in college the first time I heard the word "Blog." And I wasn't quite sure what it even meant. An acquaintance of mine, who was also a computer science major, mentioned that he had started a sort of on-line journal where he wrote about things. "But what kinds of things?" I asked. "Everything. About my life, and about things I think," he said. And I think I said something like "cool," while in my head I was thinking, "so completely not cool." It all seemed a little weird to me. Like something only computer science majors did.

I was a senior in college when Facebook made its sparkling debut. And I signed up mainly because everyone else did. Because we were all equally curious and perplexed about this creature that had invaded our campus. The new site that everyone was talking about. Practically overnight, our daily language changed. "Are you on Facebook?" "Facebook me." "I'm putting these pictures on Facebook." "How many "friends" do you have?" Private lives became public, and no one was immune. Instant messenger was so completely last year. Facebook was now.

And that's where I sort of got left behind. I came to understand Facebook. I use it all the time. But then other social networking sites started to happen. In my first year of law school it was My Space. Then LinkedIn. Then Friendster. Then Twitter. Then Instagram, Pintrest, and all those other social networks whose names are escaping me at the moment, but whose message appear on my Facebook feed with increasing regularity.

I really liked seeing pictures of weddings, vacations, babies and more posted on Facebook, and I posted lots of my own. But the other things? At the risk of sounding primitive, I just didn't get it. It was too much over-sharing. Why do I need to know where my cousin's-friend's-husband's-uncle ate dinner last night anyway? So while nearly everyone I know started sharing tweets by the thousands, and everything from current locations to virtual bulletin boards, I stuck to the familiar white and blue of the Facebook page.

But then I started this blog.

I have always loved to write, and I have always loved stories - hearing them and telling them. Some of my best pieces of writing have been personal statements for various college and graduate school applications. The ones where I was not so much answering a question but telling a story. I like the ebb and flow of a narrative - the twists and turns of a story, and the unexpected place that the characters take me, even if the story is true and the main character is me. It was - and has been - eye opening for me realize how much better I can understand places and faces and events when I process and remember them by writing words.

And it turns out that there is something else buried in this vast well of creativity that I have only recently begun to tap. Hidden deep within me, in a place I barely even knew existed, is a deep desire not just to write, but to share. To put my words out there, beyond my circle of family and friends, so that other people - strangers even - can read them, and think about them, and comment on them. It is extraordinarily satisfying to be read. To receive comments. For people to say "I understand what you mean," or "what you wrote resonated with me."

So I started exploring the blogging world. Turns out there are many, many fascinating people doing what I am doing. I started reading other people's words, and commenting on those words. Leaving little pieces of myself on their pages. Telling them that I am there, that I am reading, that what they wrote touched me, made me laugh, made me think. And slowly, they are beginning to read my words as well. A few weeks ago a blogger I particularly admire left a comment on a post that I wrote, a post of which I am very proud. And it was thrilling.

And all of these other bloggers - the ones I read daily and admire greatly? They social network like pros. They like, check-in, tweet, and pin with the best of them. They post their blogs, and their thoughts. And truthfully? They make it look like lots of fun. So, after watching and thinking for quite some time, and after an interesting conversation with my social media guru of a husband, I decided to do it. Earlier this week I joined Twitter (Follow Me!). I am still getting the hang of it, but already I'm not quite sure why I resisted for so long. 

It has been an interesting lesson for this life long introvert, to feel such satisfaction in sharing myself with the vast online universe. And it is both hugely surprising and strangely comforting that, after nearly thirty years of living, there are pieces of myself that I am still discovering. I am learning as I write that we really are all just works in progress. Beautifully imperfect and exquisitely incomplete. And right now? That is just fine with me. 

Happy, Happy Birthday

This is the sixth birthday of yours that we have celebrated together. I was pretty nervous for that first one six years ago. We had known each other for just a few short months, and I thought maybe it was too early for presents, so I came over and made you dinner instead. And I really wanted it to be perfect. But it wasn't. To be honest, it was a bit of a disaster. I remember this very clearly. The oven wasn't working quite right, and the apple pie fell apart at the first cut. The pasta wasn't completely cooked, and the hot July day melted the ice cream I agonized over because I didn't yet know what flavor you liked, and I forgot to ask. But despite that first year's disaster, the birthday dinner became a bit of a tradition. And they have greatly improved over the years.

So today, I will come home from work, and for the sixth time, I will hit the kitchen to make your favorites. And I will wait for you to come home so we can eat dinner together and so I can wish you a happy birthday in person.

But before that time comes, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday here, in this forum of mine. So that everyone will know that today is your day. Your special day. And you will be in their thoughts all day, as you are in mine.

So, happy birthday to you:

To the man who let me cover all of his living room bookshelves with romance novels without saying a word.
To the man who proposed to me on a website that I still look at from time to time and smile.
To the man made me laugh so hard I cried on our first date, and continues to do so nearly every day.
To the man who is generous with his time, and who is always willing to be helpful.
To the man who shares my love of TV, and agreed when I said we needed two DVR boxes to accommodate our respective show line-up.
To the man who loves adventure and who once busted up an hours long bumper-to-bumper traffic jam on the Pennsylvania turnpike in the pouring rain while I sat in the car and watched, awed and proud.
To the man who loves to learn and who has an endless supply of random historical facts that never fail to amaze me.
To the man who watched eight seasons of 24 and seven seasons of The West Wing with me...all in one glorious summer (for anyone interested in the math, that is approximately 340 hours, or approximately 14 days, of television. We are hard core)
To the man who is the hardest worker I have ever known.
To the man who is my recent past, and my forever future.

Happy birthday. As always, you amaze me.

I'm Back. And So Are My Books.

I spent the last week on an amazing vacation in Israel. My next post will be teeming with details about said vacation. I promise. But today I offer a picture. And a question. Because, you see, whenever I go away for any amount of time, I am faced with an impossible dilemma. Which books do I bring with me? My mind scrambles to anticipate every mood I might encounter while I am away. Because I require different books for different moods. And then I start to calculate all the down time I might have. Because I am a fast reader. And while I have never, ever run out of reading material while on vacation, the thought of such a fate strikes fear into this book-lover's heart.

Since I don't use an e-reader, all of my reading material gets packed in my suitcases and carry-on bags. And for this trip, in anticipation of two 12-hour flights and countless hours of beach time, I needed a stunning amount. To get into the gate area for a trip to Israel, I had to submit to a search of my carry-on bags. When the nice TSA woman started her search, this is what she saw:

And instead of asking me the generic questions about who packed my bags, and whether they have been in my control since I packed them, all she said to me was "I guess you like to read." And then, with a line of people behind me waiting to have their own bags searched, I had a 3 minute conversation with this woman about romance novels. Turns out, she is a romance-lover too. We are simply everywhere.

Lest you think that I only packed 5 books for an 8 day vacation, these were just the ones that I packed in my carry-on bag. I had 2 more in my purse, and 3 more in my suitcase.

How do you choose your vacation books?

How We Read

It has been happening frequently since I started writing this blog. Friends and family sending me little snippets from newspapers and magazines that they think I might find interesting. It happened just this morning in fact. A co-worker of mine who has become a good friend and frequent blog reader forwarded me an article from the New York Times Book Review called “The Way We Read Now.” The article discusses the ubiquitous new mediums on which we consume the written word. On smartphones, e-readers, tablets, and the like.

The argument over the best way to read has become extraordinarily polarizing as of late. Proponents of the e-reader insist that tangible books are out of fashion and the back-lit tablet is too hard on the eyes for long-term reading. Fans of the tablet insist that the e-reader is too simplistic - because of course we need to be able to listen to music, watch a movie, send e-mails, and surf the web while we read. And most everyone, it seems, agrees that actual books - the ones we see on our bookshelves and hold in our hands - are going out of style.

And it makes me a little sad. As I have written before, my most important milestones are marked by the books I read. Real books. Tangible ones. First day of college. My first grown-up apartment. Getting married. First job. Deaths. Births. Life. It makes me sad to think that my own kids might experience these most pivotal milestones with e-readers and tablets - rather than dogeared pages - in tow. And if that is, in fact, the case, will they look back and remember the events clearly? Or will the whole experience be viewed through the haze of blue light emanating from their device of choice?

It’s not that I don’t understand e-books. There is something to be said for having hundreds of books, and the ability to order more with the press of a button, at your fingertips. My shoulders - aching from years of carrying around bags full of romance novels -  would probably appreciate the break. About a year ago, my wonderful husband actually downloaded a file that contained every single book that Nora Roberts has ever written. He loaded them onto a iPad for me, which I carried around for a few weeks. Amazing as it was to have all of her books at my immediate disposal, I could never quite master the art of reading off a piece of electronic equipment. It wasn’t long before my real books started sneaking their way back into my bag.

I still carry around the iPad. And I love it. But I don’t read books on it. Instead, my iPad and my books have become fast friends in the center pocket of my favorite bag.

There is something else to the “e-book” vs. “actual book” argument, though, that I rarely hear addressed. I wrote awhile back about one of my favorite commuting activities - checking out the book selection of my fellow subway riders. What I didn’t mention then is that this honored pastime is growing more and more difficult with each passing day. More often than not my subways are buses are filled commuters reading books under the Kindle’s veil of anonymity.

And this makes me sad too. While I will rarely join a book club for reasons far too complex to discuss right now, I love to see what people are reading. If they are reading something new to me, I sometimes copy down the title to add to my collection. If they are reading something I have read, I wonder if their opinion will match mine. Occasionally I have hovered over a Kindle owner’s shoulder, trying my very best to catch a glimpse of the book title that hovers at the top of the e-book. But more often than not, my efforts are met with a searing look from the owner, wondering why I am committing this gross violation of her personal space. Message received.

I am sure that the accessibility of e-books have created readers out of people that might otherwise never have discovered the power of the written word. But still I wonder. I wonder if e-books are laying the foundation for a generation of kids who never touch an actual book. Who never feel the thrill of opening a shiny new cover to reveal the story inside. Who never experience the sweet sorrow of closing a book upon completion and laying it on a shelf to be read again on some future date. Who grow up choosing a book from a list of files, rather than from the organized chaos of a positively brimming bookshelf.

The New York Times article ends with a poignant quote by Anna Quindlen who once wrote: “I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.” I would be too.