​It’s hard to believe, but two years ago, I was moving into my studio and ultimate bachelorette pad in Melbourne. 
 
Some of the happiest memories and most cherished moments of my life happened during my 1-year sabbatical when I quit my job, minimized my belongings, and moved 10,500 miles from home. The land was far and foreign, I didn’t know anyone, and I would be living by myself for essentially the first time.  At least I knew the language would be the same (relatively speaking…).
 
I had sailed through Melbourne several times with my job aboard Seabourn, and felt ‘good vibes’ each time we were in port.  I found the food excellent, the people friendly, and the arts scene flourishing.  What better time than in my twenties to see what the other side of the world had to offer and find out if the toilets did indeed flush the other way?  Moving to Melbourne felt like going into uncharted, land-of-opportunity territory.

Viewing an apartment felt a lot like being back at auditions.  Swarms of people crowded into the tiny spaces though this time, instead of holding headshots they clutched rental applications.  It was a meat market.  Each renter was surreptitiously sizing one another up, and working hard to prove they were the worthiest of candidates. 
 
I know that luck had a lot to do with me getting the apartment I wanted.  I found one that I absolutely adored but was almost sure that I wouldn’t make the cut.  When I arrived at my soon-to-be dream home, I was breathing heavy and red-faced, having rushed over from another open house.  I felt sheepish, highly embarrassed, and deflated when I looked around and saw the other apartment viewers sporting well tailored blazers, high end shoes, and perfectly coiffed hair.  Nevertheless, I pushed back my shoulders and muscled my way in to the apartment.  It was the perfect studio: furnished, in a fantastic neighborhood, tons of sneaky storage, and even had a washer and dryer in the unit.  New York definitely didn’t have that in my price range.  I submitted my application immediately and personally called the realtor after submission to try and plead my case in hopes she would put in a good word to the landlord.  So what did luck have to do with landing this apartment?  I was the "chosen candidate" because the landlord was in entertainment, and she saw my website when she received my application.  Little would I have guessed maintaining a website long after auditions were over would be so beneficial to me!

Reminiscing a lot on my happy year of growth in land Down Under.

Is it bad that the highlight of my week is Wednesday when the Misfits box arrives? 
Since moving back to New York City, my husband and I are on constant lookout for ways to save money, especially considering we are two people living on a single income while trying to maintain a Manhattanite lifestyle.  We actively and painstakingly try to maintain a budget, but even limiting going out to eat (one of my favorite past times) and making home cooked meals remains expensive due to grocery stores that suddenly equate cherry tomatoes to gold.  We found that just making a conscientious effort to cut back on eating out wasn’t enough.  We desperately needed to sort out lowering the grocery bill and found that coupon cutting wasn’t the only way to reduce our spending.
Misfits Market caught my eye due to their heavy social media promotions, and it intrigued me: get a box of local, all organic produce for about half the cost of getting it at Fairway or Whole Foods and have it delivered straight to your door.  Sounded a bit too good to be true, and why the lower price?  Because Misfits sends us the fruits and vegetables that don’t make the Top 10 in the grocery store pageant.  Possibly misshapen, maybe some extra nicks and bruises, and overstock foods were some of what we would find in our box.  You also can’t choose what you get!  You are at the disposal of the whims of the Misfits box bundlers.
The first box we received was the moment of truth:

After this initial box we decided to continue with our subscription and have been really happy with our boxes (also worth noting we have not had a potato overload again).  Getting a surprise every week is fun (I understand some people may have a different interpretation of “fun”), and it’s also forced us to become more adventurous eaters.  When shopping at the store you naturally get into a rut and pick out only what you know you like and know how to cook.  I’ve suddenly learned so many new recipes and ways of cooking unusual and unique produce since our first trial in January. 
 I’ll be sharing with you some of the wins (and epic fails) thanks to the boxes in coming weeks.   I’d love to know if anyone else has tried out Misfits, or other tips and tricks for staying on budget in the city! ​

We all have something to say, something to share.  An observation (or several) worth telling to as many people who will listen.  Today I've realized that I should not be afraid to tell my stories, and continue to deny myself my love of writing for fear of becoming too vulnerable. 
I've wrestled with starting a new blog for a long time now, with all the dark and highly effective reasons for not doing one consistently penetrating the forefront of my mind: no one will like it, you'll open yourself to criticism, people will judge you, you're exposing yourself too much, what you have to say doesn't mean anything to anyone.  
Maybe all of the above is true.  But right now, in this moment, I don't really care anymore.  If someone doesn't like what I write, well, that's probably likely, and it's also OK!  And as my dear friend and mentor would say to me, "Jac, sometimes you just have to do things for yourself."  So that's why I'm here.  I'm going to become a better writer by delving in to my present, past, and future, and writing about what I see and find in this beautiful life.  The only thing I have to lose is time.