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…Or Are You Just Happy To See Me? I’ve been pondering a lot lately on the subject of transparency and wondering when sharing your life and opinion online becomes, well, TMI. And in the midst of contemplation, I didn’t share much at all. There was once a time when I thought I could get away with hell say and do no wrong (or if I did, I wouldn’t be reprimanded for it), but now, of course, there’s a bit more at stake. As my online presence grows, the more careful I’ve become about what I say. I’ve turned into such a wimp that writing long form posts requires hours of editing. First, I look for the usual grammar mistakes. Then I mull over each word, wondering if it’ll screw me over later. So, over the past few months I have kept my posts frivolous, digestible. Fluffy and forgettable. Of course, however, there’s a time and place for everything. For one, I really do love that Justin Bieber song. But while spreading Bieber Fever to the far reaches of Earth, I have missed sharing the great adventure of joining a company, learning to work with others (after nearly two years of freelance writing and working solo), and I never told anyone that as much as making Stupidly Simple Snacks lifted me up, I did, at times, pause to wonder whether they were important or had any promise of making a long term impact. I love Stupidly Simple Snacks and they still make me laugh, but do I need more than the thirty-five existing snack videos to be happy? Nope. So, I got really confused. Who am I making these videos for and why? I have only told a few people about this, but I envisioned Stupidly Simple Snack starter kits at one point. The kind of all-in-one sets which sell like hotcakes at Bed Bath & Beyond and get bought by the truckload by university students. I still think it can happen, actually, but I do wonder whether I want the marker on my grave to say: Snack Lady. On a lighter note, I took the above photo during an early brunch at The Spotted Pig last weekend. It was my first time there, but I’d been meaning to go for a while. I have this Master Guide to Deviled Eggs, you see, and I kept hearing of their deviled eggs, which I just had to eat. I didn’t ask, but I’m convinced they use olive oil, which gave the eggs an extra smooth, oily texture. This is all well and good if you like the flavor of your deviled eggs to be equal parts egg yolk and olive oil, which I’ve decided I don’t. Nitpicking aside, I was happy to have tried them. I also took about ten photos of these suckers, but it wasn’t until I got home that I realized: The filling left a tiny egg yolk erection, and the thought of pointing that out like a twelve-year-old filled me with glee. The Spotted Pig, 314 West 11th St, New York (212) 620-0393

…Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

I’ve been pondering a lot lately on the subject of transparency and wondering when sharing your life and opinion online becomes, well, TMI. And in the midst of contemplation, I didn’t share much at all. There was once a time when I thought I could get away with hell say and do no wrong (or if I did, I wouldn’t be reprimanded for it), but now, of course, there’s a bit more at stake.

As my online presence grows, the more careful I’ve become about what I say. I’ve turned into such a wimp that writing long form posts requires hours of editing. First, I look for the usual grammar mistakes. Then I mull over each word, wondering if it’ll screw me over later. So, over the past few months I have kept my posts frivolous, digestible. Fluffy and forgettable.

Of course, however, there’s a time and place for everything. For one, I really do love that Justin Bieber song. But while spreading Bieber Fever to the far reaches of Earth, I have missed sharing the great adventure of joining a company, learning to work with others (after nearly two years of freelance writing and working solo), and I never told anyone that as much as making Stupidly Simple Snacks lifted me up, I did, at times, pause to wonder whether they were important or had any promise of making a long term impact. I love Stupidly Simple Snacks and they still make me laugh, but do I need more than the thirty-five existing snack videos to be happy? Nope. So, I got really confused. Who am I making these videos for and why?

I have only told a few people about this, but I envisioned Stupidly Simple Snack starter kits at one point. The kind of all-in-one sets which sell like hotcakes at Bed Bath & Beyond and get bought by the truckload by university students. I still think it can happen, actually, but I do wonder whether I want the marker on my grave to say: Snack Lady.

On a lighter note, I took the above photo during an early brunch at The Spotted Pig last weekend. It was my first time there, but I’d been meaning to go for a while. I have this Master Guide to Deviled Eggs, you see, and I kept hearing of their deviled eggs, which I just had to eat.

I didn’t ask, but I’m convinced they use olive oil, which gave the eggs an extra smooth, oily texture. This is all well and good if you like the flavor of your deviled eggs to be equal parts egg yolk and olive oil, which I’ve decided I don’t.

Nitpicking aside, I was happy to have tried them. I also took about ten photos of these suckers, but it wasn’t until I got home that I realized: The filling left a tiny egg yolk erection, and the thought of pointing that out like a twelve-year-old filled me with glee.

The Spotted Pig, 314 West 11th St, New York (212) 620-0393

What I wouldn’t do for a 44.5 breakfast sandwich with eggs, sausage, and cheddar on toasted brioche right now… Trying to be zen, but my grumbling tummy is hard to argue with. Better fill it fast or else the rest of me will be grumbling too. Hope your Sunday is off to a more happy start than mine! Love, Amy

What I wouldn’t do for a 44.5 breakfast sandwich with eggs, sausage, and cheddar on toasted brioche right now…

Trying to be zen, but my grumbling tummy is hard to argue with. Better fill it fast or else the rest of me will be grumbling too. Hope your Sunday is off to a more happy start than mine! Love, Amy