I enjoyed freelancing for the flexibility and ability to work in my pajamas. But I’m so over the pajamas! And I’m really eager to put my paycheck, workflow, health insurance and office supplies in someone else’s hands. I like knowing what work is in the pipeline; I’ve never been good at pounding the pavement to line up my next freelance job. I don’t have a salesman aspect to my personality, preferring to passively let work come to me through a recruiter or other contacts. And that’s not the most successful approach.

For me, the cons of freelancing outweighed the pros. The flexibility was good. I could go to a movie in the middle of the day if I wanted. Or hang out with my friends. The problem is, most of my friends are, you know, working during the day. And I’ve spent far too many a late night in front of the computer trying to meet a deadline either because the client didn’t give enough lead time. Or I underestimated the scope of work. Or I’ve mismanaged my time.

Plus, you have to find your own health and dental insurance, which in today’s climate….sucks. A lot. And make your own invoices. Deal with your own complicated taxes. Not saying I wouldn’t go back to it one day, but I’m in no rush. I like structure and if that means I can’t sleep in during the week, then so be it. Because honestly, that’s the best part of working for yourself. The sleep.

So for now, you’ll find me living for the weekend. And often the weeknights. But the workday hours? They’re taken.

Silvia is holding fast to her breakup with Don and he is not taking it well. It’s undignified, really, and I hate seeing him this way. Waiting outside her door, chain smoking and sweating. Oh, he’s sick, too.

A lot of the agency is sick and rundown. They’ve been frantically working on creative for Chevy for six weeks, only to have each concept rejected. Poor Ken is stuck entertaining them and is now using a cane. He’s coming apart at the seams. Ted comes unglued when partner Frank dies.

The work load isn’t going to let up (does it ever?) so they bring in a doctor quack who gives them shots. His own mixture of B complex vitamins and stimulants. Do they work?

Um, yes. They work. Well, kind of. Everyone remains high as a kite for the rest of the episode, leading to close to an hour of confusing moments. Don has several flashbacks to an incident where he was very sick as a kid in the whorehouse. His mother wasn’t exactly sympathetic, so another prostitute nursed him back to health. And then some.

Peggy makes out with Greg. Ken tap dances, and no one can seem to come up with a decent idea for Chevy.

The more interesting part of the episode happens outside the agency. Megan lets Sally babysit her brothers while she attends a play. Bobby is bratty, Sally is bored, and Gene eats PB&J. But the place is really livened up when “Grandma Ida” appears. She just walks in the door insisting that she’s Don’s mother. Then she changes it to nanny. Bobby seriously wonders if he’s been black this whole time without realizing it.

Good ole granny cases the joint after a nice chat with Sally over eggs. Clearly a thief, she takes off after Sally calls the po-po. Things were a little scary there for a few minutes. When Don finally comes home from work, three days later, he walks in to find the cops, his neighbor and his angry/upset family waiting in the living room. He gives us as manly a faint as I’ve ever seen.

Let’s hope next week is better.

A couple weeks ago I was invited to dine at Trento and share my experience. I’m always up for some casual Italian and found their mostly gluten-free offerings interesting. I started with a red sangria while I perused the menu. It was icy cold and not too sweet, just the way I like it.

The focaccia was served with a smooth eggplant caponata, which was sweetened with raisins.

Next up were the PEI Mussels, and they were unlike any others I’ve ever had. Steamed in white wine with mint pesto, these were so fresh and bright. My favorite dish of the night. The portion is large and would be satisfying all on its own for dinner. We sopped up the minty broth with thick, crusty bread.

Next, they brought out an antipasta covered with meats, cheeses and pickled vegetables. It would be more than enough for a large group to share.

Next was a simple Caprese Salad, that beautiful classic that delights everyone. Fresh basil, ripe tomatoes, lush mozzarella drizzled with a hint of good olive oil. What more do you need?

Following, was a rich gnocchi that was topped with slow roasted pork, peas, oyster mushrooms, and parmigiano. I’ve never had gnocchi dressed this way. It was so hearty. Comfort food! All the pastas at Trento are made from scratch.

For a tasty side, Trento brought out their brussels sprouts, which again, were unlike any I’ve ever tasted. Topped with pecorino, bacon, and apple, they were crispy, salty, and sweet. I may add apple to my own version of spicy sprouts at home. It provided a nice crunchy contrast.

Our final savory dish was a halibut special and it was fresh and light…but dieters beware the mountain of delicious crispy potatoes underneath. The generous portion of fish had a lovely citrusy broth underneath and the veggies tied it all together. Halibut is one of my favorite fishes and this take was very nice. If you find yourself at Trento on a night where they are serving halibut as a special, order the halibut.

A few bites of a chocolate dessert  (whose name I can’t recall) was a sweet ending to a sweet evening. The service was attentive and friendly, with our knowledgeable server describing each dish accurately and pointing out her own favorite items. The decor was casual, clean and welcoming. Suitably dark.

I will certainly be returning for happy hour, which is Monday through Friday, 3 to 7. I’ll definitely be ordering the mussels!

Moving. The very word sends shudders down the spines of slobs and obsessive compulsives everywhere. The mere thought of organizing, packing, taping, labeling, carrying, loading, unloading, cutting, unpacking, and organizing is enough to make anyone’s head feel like it’s full of angry honey badgers.

My husband and I recently decided to move apartments, and it was a task filled to the brim with procrastination, and most days, I opted to dig through Pinterest for tips on moving instead of actually doing the work of moving.

During my quest, I procrastinated even more by spending time on Facebook asking if anyone had packing supplies or tips or hell, if anyone would just come do this for me. That’s when I heard about Bronko Box, these plastic totes that could be delivered right to my door in bulk, they are essentially rented for a week or two (however long it takes you to pack/move), then they pick them up when you’re done. Sign me up!

When Bo at Bronko Box arrived with “tons of totes” as we started calling them, they came in both large and small, and I was immediately struck by how clean they were – I expected banged up, crookedy, scratched-up plastic totes, but no, they even smelled like new plastic and office supplies. Mmm, office supply smell….

I wanted to build a fort out of them on our giant patio, but I was told that we were moving in three days and I hadn’t touched a thing, so I better get started. No fort. Okay.

So I started pulling everything off of the walls and out of the closets, and everything I had learned on Pinterest flew out of my brain faster than a kid can down three pixie stix. That’s fast.

With what our family is calling the “Bronko Box method,” I would pull one box off of the stack, fill it, close the top (and no ridiculous tape, btw), stack it on the previously filled box, slap a sticker on it with the room name and DONE. They all stacked together on a dolly and went right on and off the truck.

The biggest surprise to us is that the fact that there was a difinitive date they were picking the boxes up, we had to unpack – no living from boxes for weeks. We’re pretty OCD about unpacking, but this really pushed us to not be lazy, and we needed it, given that my husband and I work 15 to 18 hour days.

Bo came back, zipped the boxes out, and they were gone. I was a little sad when they left.

Reserving them and working with the company was easy as pie, and the prices were reasonable. The only suggestion I have is that they need to hand a flyer to people when they drop boxes off that give tips like “don’t cram solid gold bars in here, they’ll be too heavy,” and organization tips like “divide boxes out per room so you don’t run out” or “place heavy stuff on the bottom,” or whatever more eloquent advice the experts have.

Next time you’re packing, do what grocery stores and gas stations have done for decades and skip the boxes and non-biodegradable packing materials that kill the environment – just order some Bronko Boxes. We won’t be using traditional packing boxes or materials again. Ever.

Disclosure: Bronko Box provided their services free of charge in exchange for an honest review.

Allie Brosh’s brilliant Hyperbole and a Half left us hanging for more than a year after a somewhat alarming post about her very real, deep depression. As a writer who is hyperaware of how many people are reading my blog, I am intrigued at Allie’s ability to walk away from millions of readers. Millions. Her talent attracted legions of loyal followers practically overnight. She got a book deal with a national publisher. Yet she walked away.

I don’t think she really had a choice of course. I consider myself fortunate that I don’t have depression. Sure, I get depressed. But it’s more like a temporary bummed out feeling that I am able to shake off in a day or two. I can’t fathom what chronic depression feels like, but Allie Brosh has brought me as close to understanding as anyone ever has. And her infusion of humor makes me more comfortable with the dark subject matter.

Her gifts lie not just in her drawing, her exceptional and personal writing, or her blogging savvy. It is her uncanny ability to relate. Or make us relate. Without being preachy or framing her story as a cautionary tale. She’s simply who she is, Allie Brosh, extremely talented, extremely depressed blogger.

She has so many people supporting her. Fans genuinely love her and have patiently waited, hoping she’d resume writing. I’m not sure if the multitude of people behind her helps or adds to the pressure to, you know, hurry up and get better already. Is this how Dave Chapelle felt when he disappeared to Africa at the peak of his career? Is overwhelming success a contributing factor to those susceptible to depression? I can imagine it’s a burden to hold such great talent and have the world expect so much from you. Her absence just added to Brosh’s mystery, leaving us wanting more.

And yes, I want more. I want more drawings, more stories, more glimpses into her creative mind, her life. But I also want to protect her from our curiosity and prying eyes. Even my own.

If you haven’t already done so, please take a few minutes and read Allie’s comeback post explaining her depression. Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

There’s all kinds of office shuffling and ego bruising as the two agencies learn to work with each other. The secretaries and Roger all seem extra bitchy. The creatives are crammed into the same space, with the exception of Peggy who gets Harry Crane’s office. Ha ha!

The first brainstorming session is about margarine. The team is pretty stumped on coming up with ideas because they are rusty margarine is disgusting. Don shows up 40 minutes late and pisses off Ted. And Don’s pissed, too. Everyone’s pissed.

Maybe Don shouldn’t have blown off his first day of work to hang out with Sylvia. I don’t know about you, but I hate this affair. More than any other affair in the whole series. Part of it is Sylvia’s housecoats and head scarves. Yuck. She looks like she got lost on the way to Sanford and Son.

Don keeps her trapped in a hotel room pulling some dominant bullshit and eventually she calls off the affair. I’m surprised it ended like this. I thought Megan or Arnold would catch them in a horrible, dramatic scene. Looks like Don gets off easy again.

Poor Joan is sick at work. Clutching her side, barfing into a trashcan, sick. Trusty old Bob Benson puts down his Greek coffee cup for once and takes her to the ER. He elegantly lies to get her to the front of the line and visits her later at home, brings her baby a football. Looks like a budding romance to me. This could finally explain Bob’s presence. Joan swiftly saves Bob’s ass when they fire a ton of people from both agencies.

Pete is afraid of being pushed out of his job, and I must admit, he’s probably not being paranoid for once. When his mother shows up at his apartment, clearly in the early stages of dementia, I can feel his blood pressure rising. He’s got a lot on his plate. All the gin and tonics in the world don’t keep her from starting a fire in Pete’s kitchen.

The best part of the episode was the dynamic between Don and Ted. Their creative and management styles are so different, not to mention their personalities. Don gets Ted sloppy drunk and before he passes out on the floor of his office, he tells Don his Gilligan’s Island theory. How each character represents a segment of the market. Huh. I guess if that’s true I’ll be in the same market as the professor. (Truth: I am Gilligan.)

Just when it looks like Don will win this battle of wills, Ted turns out to be a pilot with his own plane. Don is terrified on their small, stormy flight to see a client and the playing field is now level.

The episode ends with the assassination of Bobby Kennedy.

What troubling times these were.

Attached to the Hilton, the decor is urban sophisticated in that way that feels not quite modern and not quite old fashioned. It felt familiar and comfortable, the way hotels often feel. Our group was in a private room and we made ourselves at home right away.

The special guest of the evening was Kyle Janzen from Bacio Divino Cellars. I was lucky to be seated next to Kyle, and in between him fielding questions about grapes and blends and Napa Valley restaurants, we chatted about migrant workers, his crazy travel schedule, and what it was like growing up on a vineyard.

But it wasn’t all talk. We ate an incredible meal, each course painstakingly created to be perfectly paired with its wine counterpart. The first course was an open layered ravioli with veal shank, razor clams, and pickled hon shimeji mushrooms. Nothing reminds me of home like clams and these were perfectly cooked. I don’t think I’ve ever had pickled mushrooms. Their piquant bite was a nice contrast to the velvety sheets of homemade pasta. The Pazzo was a blend of Sangiovese and Cabernet Sauvignon and was rosy, fruity and delicious.

The second course was straight out of Paris and it captured my heart. A tender cornish hen breast was served with a deconstructed Lyonnaise salad. It was served with Lucie, a clean Russian River Valley Pinot Noir.

Course three brought Pot-Au-Feu, again deconstructed. The short rib was accompanied by baby spring vegetables, bone marrow, and beef consommé. Served with their eponymous label, Bacio Divino translates to “the divine kiss.” And the pairing was indeed divine.

Desert was another revelation. Goat cheese cake, caramel glass and black garlic ice cream. Wow! What a flavor combination. As a notorious fearer of too much garlic, I can say that this ice cream was the perfect balance of sweet with the hint of garlicky warmth we all love.

The wine pairing was the extra bold (and extra expensive) single vineyard Janzen. It was a special treat and the perfect way to cap off a lovely evening. Chef Peter Maffei outdid himself. Stop by Finn & Porter and check out what this fantastic chef from Queens is doing.

Seriously though, why the hell is Muse always a headliner? I can’t be the only one bummed out by this. And Kings of Leon? Pffft. Over it.

Call me sentimental, but I long for the days when a music festival provided some variety. Throw in some hip-hop and Latin bands with the traditional rock bands. I mean, most people are like me in that they don’t stick to just one genre. I’m not saying this year’s line-up is one note, per se, but I do think it could be a little more diverse. And I really don’t think we should be recycling bands so quickly. Muse is not allowed back in the city until 2018, okay?

I’m going to give you and idea of my ideal line-up. Some food for thought for next year’s festival, mmmkay? Thanks, Muse fans ACL organizers.

First up, and this is just so obvious: Daft Punk.

I have a couple picks for local bands. Black and White Years and Grupo Fantasma.

We should invite a couple bands that have had some hardships. I can think of two bands I loved that had the lead singers OD. So I’m including Alice in Chains and Sublime in my festival.

Okay, now I’m going to blow your mind. Janet Jackson is playing at my ACL. That’s right, the elusive Miss Jackson If You’re Nasty is going to bring back the whole Rhythm Nation dance troupe and give a kick-ass performance. I know. I can hardly believe it myself.

But the real mind-blower, the act no one saw coming, is the Temple of the Dog reunion. It’s not a part of a tour. Eddie Vedder, Chris Cornell and Co., get together in a once in a lifetime 90s nostalgia moment purely for ACL. Critics call it the greatest ACL moment of all time.

When Mr. Bungle shows up, people just start passing out from the shock. I mean, they’re not even listed on the ticket, they just SHOWED UP to melt our faces off.

Justin Timberlake and Brian Setzer collaborate on a rocking swing session. Rumor has it that they’ll be doing a bonus show at the Continental Club later that night, so people start lining up in the morning.

Appearing on the hip-hop stage are De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, K-os, Brown Bag Allstars, and Macklemore. They play individually and in various formations, eventually all getting on the stage together and doing a Beastie Boys tribute.

John Legend is backed by The Roots and they play nothing but Elton John covers. The crowd goes insane during Rocket Man when an actual rocket shoots off the stage and into the starry sky.

And the Live Music Capital of the World rocked and rocked and rocked.

Anyway, Megan’s mommy is in town, making rude comments about anything and everything in her secret language no one can understand. Oh, that’s French? Whatever. Megan’s mom is a huge bitch and I love her. When Megan confesses that her marriage is rocky, she tells her daughter to dress sexier. This outfit she wears to dinner does the trick:

While the dress was a success, the dinner was not. They were joined by Herb and his stupid wife. When Herb suggests that Don run his work by some kid who writes flyers for Herb, Don fires him as a client. Bye-bye, Jaguar. Later, Megan’s mom talks about Herb and wife and says, “She’s the apple that goes in the pig’s mouth.” I laugh gleefully and will use that phrase from now on.

Roger has been dating a stewardess who gives him access to the upscale airport flight clubs. This is how he’s getting business these days, by casually stalking corporate bigwigs waiting for their flights. He successfully lands SCDP a chance at the new Chevrolet car. Good thing, because Pete and Joan almost kill Don for firing Jaguar. Joan’s mad because she went above and beyond to win that account. Pete’s mad because it jeopardizes the company’s chance to go public. And his chance to get back together with Trudy.

Another blow is dealt to Pete’s ego and to the agency when he runs into his father in law at a brothel. Um, awkward! The father in law yanks his Dow Chemical business faster than you can swallow your Vicks Cough Drops. He runs and complains to Trudy and oddly enough, she wasn’t thrilled to find out both her husband and father hang out with hookers. Weird. So she kicks him out forever.

Peggy and Abe bought an apartment in what must be the Little Juarez section of New York. Seriously, it’s heinous. Abe wanted to live among the “real” people and now they have junkies pooping on their steps. Is that real enough for ya, Abe? God. Why hasn’t Peggy left this guy yet?! It’s not like she doesn’t have other options. Her boss Ted gets swept up in her talent and ambition and lays one on her at work.

She finds herself thinking about Ted and flirting with him. Ted, meanwhile, finds himself flirting with Don Draper in Detroit. Okay, not flirting per se, but flirting with the idea of merging pitches. When they are both in line for the Chevy pitch, they realize it’ll just be a battle of the big agencies to win the business, while their smaller agencies will provide the creative ideas that get stolen. So they decide to band together and stay up all night working on a new pitch. They also share their own pitches to each other at the bar and I have a major ad geek out moment. I FREAKING LOVE THIS SHOW!

They win the business and break the news of the merger to Peggy. They ask her to compose a press release announcing the news, and they are letting her name the new agency. What?! If that happened today they’d name it something terrible like Synergy. I hope she names it something like Pig’s Mouth Apple Creative. We hear her voiceover as she types up the release and it’s an awesome ending. YEAH!

Start with a pound of sprouts. Cut off the bottom core and remove the outer leaves. They’ll look like this:

Cut in half and mix with 1 TB olive oil.

Season however you like. I use a little salt, pepper, and plenty of red pepper flakes. Then put in a 400 degree oven on a baking sheet and stir every ten minutes. They will crisp up nice and brown.

The sprouts will take about 30 minutes to cook. At the 20 minute mark, lower the oven to 350° and bake your fish accordingly. Obviously you want to give more time to thicker cuts than thin fillets. I often use salmon or trout, but occasionally I’ll roast shrimp, tilapia or something else. Whatever’s on sale. I season the fish with a spice blend and a dusting of cayenne pepper and sesame seeds.

We’ll eat the fish right on top of the sprouts in a bowl with chopsticks. Want some carbs? Make a spicy packet of ramen and drain most of the water so it’s not a soup. I use kimchi ramen from the Asian market and it is HOT! Top with Sriracha for a fiery dinner.

What’s your favorite go-to meal?