I Don't Get Out Much

Blame it on too many episodes of Great Hotels on the Travel Channel, but I love hotels. Personally, I believe the obsession comes from the fact that I never stay in them. You see, our family...we go RV-ing. Yes, like the commercial. This is due in part to my father's hatred of a) flying and b) staying in hotels. Therefore, our vacations always consist of driving to a destination and staying in our "house on wheels." (Cue scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation).

Therefore, when I stayed overnight in Philadelphia this week for interviews, I was quite excited to stay in a place, well, not on wheels. For me, one of the most exciting things about hotels is seeing the room for the first time. I get all giddy like a kid on Christmas morning when I put the key card into the slot and hear the lock click open.

In this case, I stayed at the Inn at the Union League. The Union League is a super fancy private club on Sansom Street in Philly. It was founded in 1862 to support the policies of Abraham Lincoln. The League is for members only and you must be invited to join. There is a loophole though - guests at the Inn have access to all member-only facilities at the League. These privileges include dinner in the private restaurants and access to the business center and fitness center. Oh, and did I mention the dress code? Suit jackets are required on all public floors for men and the appropriate equivalent for ladies. Jeans, flipflops, and sneakers are also big no-nos.

When I arrived at the League, I intended to go about my entire stay pretending that I was somewhat important. This included changing into heels for check-in and nodding knowingly as the desk clerk went over all hotel policies. Afterwards, I gleefully took my key card and the elevator to the 4th floor.

I proceeded to my room, eager to see my digs. I swung open the door and stepped into my room. A cozy retreat greeted me upon arrival. The first thing I did after setting my bags down was hunt down the extra pillow and blanket from the closet and open every single drawer/cupboard in the room. When I was satisfied, I went into the bathroom to snoop at the toiletries - acceptable. I notice the monogrammed robe on the back of the bathroom door and momentarily think about wearing it around the room for the duration of my stay. I decide against that plan when I realize the robe is made for a 6 ft, 300 lb man.

Next, I take a running start and belly flop into my queen size bed. It's been a long day already, so I do what I do best...nap. When I awake from my beauty sleep, I decide to explore the business center on the first floor. I slip into my heels and throw on a blazer over my sundress.

I enter the center and see a handful of people who actually look they have something more important to do with their time then run around hotel rooms in oversize robes and guzzle pineapple juice from the minibar.

I stand up straight, roll my shoulders back, and walk towards a vacant workstation. I flip on the table lamp and check my email, pretending that I'm doing something more noteworthy than emailing my Dad to inquire about how my cat, Gary, is doing. I look around and notice a jar full of Union League pens. Glancing back and forth to make sure no one is looking, I super class-ily shove about 20 of them in my purse (one pen for mom, one for dad, one for grandma...). After the pen debacle, I decide my work in the business center is done and retreat back to the 4th floor.

The rest of the evening is spent outside of the hotel. Upon return, I climb into my awesome bed and proceed to sprawl out on my stomach atop 4 pillows and 3 blankets. When I awake, I'm sleeping diagonally across the mattress (I have no idea how I'm going to ever share a bed with another person...we'll cross that bridge when we come to it).

My alarm (er phone rings...I ordered a wakeup call...I'm getting my $170 worth of this stay) at 6 am and I bounce out of bed, eager for the free continental breakfast I'm promised at check in. I wander down to the dining room, almost sashaying into a breakfast for the Temple Health System...oops. When I find the Founder's Dining Room, I think my jaw hits the floor (so much for pretending to be important).

The restaurant is dressed in a navy and gold color scheme. A staff of waiters escort me to my table. I slide into a velvet banquet and nod furiously when asked if I'd like coffee. At the buffet, a jolly man makes me a bacon omelet. I return to my table thinking I should be reading the Wall Street Journal to fit in. I sip my coffee from a petite china cup and decide that I must find a way to have this happen, mmm, every day of my life.

In short, I thoroughly enjoyed my stay (I'm sure you couldn't guess). Also, I would really like to figure out how I can be like Samantha Brown (host of Great Hotels)...that'd be pimp.

I've Got A City Love

When most people want to recharge their batteries, they go somewhere green, somewhere quiet, and somewhere where they can escape the grind of everyday life.

When I want to recharge my batteries, I go to the one place that always makes me feel alive....the city of Philadelphia. My spirits surge in tune with the constant blaring horns. I relish in the sound of my heels on the pavement. I sigh in contentment as the subway whooshes past me; my hair flying in all directions.

I am happiest chatting with friends at a sidewalk cafe, sipping an electric blue martini on a bar rooftop, or window shopping on Walnut Street. I love the contrast of the city. One second I can be surrounded by powerful men in suits, while the next I'm standing next to a woman on the Blue Line, singing her heart out to a captive audience.

Growing up in a small town had me itching to spread my wings somewhere far away from cornfields and cows. Of course, my first year in Philly I must have looked straight of the farm because I attracted the strangest people. However, as time went on, I became comfortable navigating the public transit system, venturing downtown alone, and confidently giving directions to lost tourists.

Philadelphia holds an emotional connection for me. I grew up both personally and professionally amidst the sparkling skyscrapers and cobblestone streets. I went on my first date in Rittenhouse Square. I held my first internship at the Red Cross' headquarters in Center City. I spotted my first glimpse of a pimp and his hookers at an ATM in South Philly.

I aspire to one day work and play in the 19106 zipcode. I can see myself working furiously in a cubicle in one of Center City's high rise offices, walking hand-in-hand with my significant other to one of the up-and-coming Steven Starr restaurants, and, eventually, pushing a stroller past the fountain in Logan Square. Philly is where I want start my adult life.

Of course, I can't predict what the future holds for me, but I know that no matter where I travel that the City of Brotherly Love will always hold a special place in my heart.

True Love

A few nights ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table compiling a media list for a client. It was past midnight, and my caffeine buzz was slowly wearing off. As I stared absentmindedly around the kitchen, my gaze fell on the cookie jar.

In our house, the blue and white ceramic jar holds Oreo cookies (double, never single-stuffed). Oreos are as much a staple in our house as milk and bread. The Oreos, though we all indulge, are mostly for my Dad.

*Fun fact: My obsession with coffee started with Oreos. As a kid, I would dip my cookies into my parents steaming mugs (and leave cookie pieces floating in their brew). Eventually, I started drinking the coffee, not just dunking my cookies. Thus, an addiction was born.

Anyway, currently, our cookie jar has a DIY addition. Under the lid is a layer of aluminum foil. I first noticed the foil when I returned home from college. Laughing at the sight, I went to find my Dad and heckle him.

Punching him playfully in the arm, I badger him about his invention. Looking up from his laptop with a confused look on his face, he replies that the foil contraption is all my mother's doing. I find her to investigate.

Me: Mom, why did you put aluminum foil on the cookie jar?

Mom: For Dad.

Me: :Stars quizzically:

Mom: In the summer he complains that the Oreos get stale from all the humidity. I put the foil under the lid to make sure his cookies stay fresh.

...If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

The moral of the story? I hope to one day find a man who will construct a shield out of foil to make sure my favorite cookies don't go stale. Because, sometimes the smallest gestures take up the most room in your heart.

And love doesn't get any sweeter than fresh Oreos.

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (maybe)

My lovely friend (and fellow blogger) Emily, wrote a blog about the things she can and cannot do. Read it here. I'm following suit.

Things I'm Good At:

-Spotting and naming the model and year of all Audi vehicles from miles away

-Walking in heels

-Telling stories

-Making sangria/ice cream cake/champagne punch/grilled cheese

-Writing

-Doing makeup

-Walking/running into things and getting black and blue marks all over my legs

-Taking naps

-Finding really funny birthday cards

-Giving hugs

-Rescuing poor, pathetic-looking animals from the middle of the road and nursing them back to health

Things I'm Bad At:

-Painting my nails

-Giving Gary the Cat a bath

-Driving stick shift

-Doing hair

-Being patient

-Not looking up medical symptoms on WebMd

-Math (with or without a calculator)

-Not spilling on white pants/shirt

-Keeping track of purchases in my checkbook

-Walking into Sephora and not buying anything

Things I Just Can't Do:

-Snap my fingers

Norah Jones - Chasing Pirates

I've been a Norah Jones fan since her first album, Come Away With Me. Chasing Pirates is off her newest album, The Fall, and I am obsessed with this song. However, can we talk about the video for a second? It is 2 minutes and 42 seconds of pure loveliness.

The whimsical nature of the video mimic the song lyrics perfectly. C'mon, she is sailing a pirate ship through New York City. That is ballin. Not to mention, Norah looks ah-ma-zing. I adore her new short, wavy 'do.

Plus, her wardrobe? Gorge, gorge, gorge! The distressed, cloudy colored boots she wears in the beginning of the video are the perfect mix of grungy chic. Also, I love the chunky gold bracelets that adorn her wrist when she bends down to pick up the glass bottle. I can hear them jingling together now.

Furthermore, her take on a, quote on quote, pirate outfit is super cute. The one earring, black vest and knee high boots, gold cuffs, and gauzy soft pink skirt are costume-y yet fashion forward. Oh Norah, you slay me! Oh, and where can I buy a replica of that exact outfit? Perhaps I'll be a classy pirate for Halloween this year.

Finally, we must dissect her makeup as it is pure perfection. The women has porcelain skin (refreshing considering most celebs are some sort of orange-y, bronze-y, skin- color-not-found-in-nature). Her dark eyes pop against her smudged, navy eyeliner and are framed by a fan of lush, inky lashes. Her glossy, baby pink pout contrast the darker eye makeup and warm up her complexion. All in all, sheer, unadulterated pretty.

Norah Jones is most certainly Swoon.-worthy. Now, go check out The Fall. You won't be disappointed.