A couple of months ago, I told myself I wanted to accomplish a goal outside of work. I had been talking for weeks about signing up for the women’s half marathon in St. Pete.
“You should sign up for it,” my fiance Troy kept saying.
I procrastinated and then, with four weeks to go before the race, I signed up for what would be my fourth half marathon. As I trained, there were mornings when I just wanted to stay in bed and skip my workouts, but I kept the finish line in mind and persisted.
It paid off. On Sunday, I ran the race and got the time I had been hoping for: 1 hour, 50 minutes. It’s five minutes slower than my fastest time but five minutes faster than my last half marathon. I felt strong for most of the race and was motivated by Troy’s cheers. He typically rides his bike along the half-marathon courses and stops at various points to cheer me on.
“Go Mal, go!”
The cheers carried me through to the finish line.
I’m glad I ran the race; I set a goal and accomplished it in the company of thousands of other women (and a few men) who had also signed up for it. Setting goals for myself — professionally and personally — helps keep me grounded and gives me a feeling of accomplishment. My goals for the next couple of months involve memoir writing (I’m aiming for two pages per week) and wedding planning! I don’t know if you can really count wedding planning as a “goal,” but I like the idea of setting goals for myself instead of setting “deadlines”; it makes everything seem more manageable, and fun.
I’ll keep you posted as I (hopefully) accomplish them.
As I walked in the door Tuesday night, I spotted a homemade pizza sitting on the counter next to a bottle of Pinot Noir.
“Oooo, a pizza!” I said, giving my boyfriend Troy a hug. “And wine!”
“I thought we could have a nice dinner together,” he said, giving me a hug and a kiss.
I love when I come home from work to find dinner already prepared. I told him as much, and then went upstairs to change into my pajamas. When I came back downstairs, I went into the living room and noticed a ladder leaning against the wall.
“Why’s the ladder out?”
“I wanted to hang up a sign that I made you.”
“I made you a sign to show you how much I love you ….”
(Insert “awww” here.)
Troy took the sign out of the closet and placed it on the table. He had hand-engraved and painted the phrase “All because two people fell in love,” on it. There was a sign with the same saying hanging above the door of my old apartment. The sign was so recognizable that when I mentioned it to people who were familiar with the neighborhood, they knew which house I was talking about. I always liked the sign, and so did Troy.
“Thank you! That is so sweet. I love it!” I couldn’t get over how thoughtful the gift was.
“Go get your camera so I can take a picture of you standing in front of it,” Troy said.
I got it, then picked up the sign and saw that the other side had some words engraved on it, too: “WILL YOU MARRY ME?”
Ahhh! It all felt so surreal.
“Oh my God! … Babe! … Of course!”
He took a video of me reacting to the news, then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
He slipped the ring on my finger and made me the happiest girl. I was shaking and couldn’t stop smiling. I may have even flailed my arms a bit at one point. (OK, I definitely flailed my arms at one point…) The ring was the same one I told him I liked and had originally seen on Pinterest.
I knew the engagement would be coming sometime soon. A few months ago, I found out Troy was starting to look at engagement rings. Every week, I wondered when he was going to propose and inevitably set myself up for temporary disappointment. Whenever we went on a dinner date, I would think: “Maybe tonight’s the night!”
I tried to be patient.
When the engagement topic would come up, Troy would jokingly chant, “Two more years! Two more years!”
“I’ll be long gone if you wait two more years to propose!” I’d (half) jokingly respond.
Shortly after Troy asked me to marry him, we talked about how we would spread the news on social networks. He knows me too well. (I had been thinking about how I would break the news on Facebook and Twitter for months!) He suggested that we post a picture of me holding the “All because two people fell in love” part of the sign, then a picture of me holding the other side of it, followed by a picture of the ring. We did, and the photos quickly generated comments from friends.
For about two hours after Troy proposed, we read all of the congratulatory notes on Facebook and Twitter, responded to text messages, and called friends and family. My friends started sharing ideas about what the wedding would be like.
When I relayed this to one of my other college friends to hear her reaction, she laughed and said: “I’ve thought about that, too! Except I picture you looking like Cinderella. I think of it as a fairy-tale wedding. With some glitter.”
I don’t believe in fairy tales, but I do believe in pink dresses and sparkles.
My college roommate shared this good advice: “When people start asking about the wedding (and they will), you’re allowed to say, ‘This is our time to enjoy the engagement.’ You don’t have to start everything all at once.”
My best friend from childhood, who got married last year, said: “When you do start to plan, make it fun!”
My grandmas, who I called just before they went to bed, both let out little shrieks. I think they would have jumped up and down if they physically could have.
My dad reminded me: “You two are so lucky to have one another. Troy’s a good man.” I could tell that Dad was happy for me, his only child, his perpetual little girl. Troy had asked him for my hand in marriage when we were in Massachusetts last August. (At the time, my friends were betting that he had.) He also called my dad about a half-hour before I got home from work to say he was going to propose. Not surprisingly, my dad kept the information to himself for nearly four months; he’s always been a good secret keeper.
My dad and stepmother are flying in to visit me and Troy later this week, so I’ll be able to talk with them in person about the engagement. I want to be able to share my excitement with my dad, considering I only get to see him once or twice a year.
I wish I could also share it with my mom, who passed away from breast cancer when I was 11. Though she’s been gone for 16 years, I’ve been able to keep her memory alive through writing, and through signs that she sends me. Often, when I’m thinking of her, I’ll look at the clock and will see her “special time” — 7:24. It’s symbolic of her July 24th birthday.
I wish I could show Mom my ring, go wedding dress shopping with her, and see her reaction when I become a mom someday. I wish she could meet Troy, who has taught me what it means to let go of the fear of loss and let love in.
He’s the guy I met on Match.com two-and-a-half years ago and decided to go on a date with — partly because he wrote well when messaging me on the site. He’s the flirt who loves holding hands, the boyfriend who brags about me because I’m too humble, the fiance who won’t let a day go by without telling me that I’m beautiful and that he loves me.
I know Mom would have approved of Troy and loved him. A couple minutes after he proposed, just before we started to eat our pizza, I picked up my phone. I looked at the time and felt especially loved. It was 7:24.
I thought of “Lord of the Fries” but then saw that someone (not surprisingly) had already come up with that. Micheal Cavna of The Washington Post crafted a lot of fun ones — including “The Crepes of Wrath,” “Animal Parm” and “For Whom the Taco Bell Tolls.”
It’s been about 15 years since my mom died of breast cancer. The pain from the loss has subsided over the years, but the desire to share important moments with her hasn’t.
There have been so many times when I’ve thought to myself, “I wish Mom could be here for this.” I wish she could have been there to see me get my license, go to prom, graduate from high school and college, and get my first job. I wish she could be here for all the things you turn to your mom for as you get older — things like figuring out how to replicate her signature dinners, picking out a wedding dress and becoming a mom yourself.
Even though I haven’t been able to turn to Mom, I’ve always been able to turn to my dad (and my grandmas). My dad’s been a constant in my life — someone I can turn to for advice and who always is willing to listen. Though we live more than 1,000 miles apart, we’re still just as close as ever.
He always finds ways to show he cares about me, his only child. He reads every one of the stories I write for work and gives me feedback on them. He’ll always make time to talk to me on the phone even when he’s having a crazy busy day. And it’s not unusual for him to send me an email that says “I LOVE YOU, MALLARY!!!!” in oversized, colored font. He’s perhaps the biggest sentimentalist I know.
Given how close we are, I can’t help but love the new Google Chrome commercial about a girl named Jess who has lost her mom and is keeping in touch with her dad via Gchat during her freshman year at college. I’ll admit: I cried when I watched it the other day. Sounds cheesy, but it’s true. The commercial made me think about how lucky I am to have my dad, and how much I miss my mom. And it was a gentle reminder that it’s OK to still get sad about the loss of a parent, even if you lost that parent more than 15 years ago.
My dad can’t take the place of my mom; no dad can, no matter how hard they try. But he’s certainly helped fill the void.
If you haven’t seen the Chrome commercial, you should take a minute to watch it here. (Note the dad’s blank stare after his daughter virtually introduces him to her new boyfriend. It’s priceless.)
I’m lucky to work with talented colleagues at a place that encourages experimentation and innovation. When I started working at The Poynter Institute five years ago, the editor who hired me said: “Challenge us to think about things differently.” My current boss has given me similar advice.
I try to put her good advice into action, and I always keep two words in mind: “grounded” and “growing.” It’s important, I tell myself, to stay grounded in traditional journalism values, but at the same time grow — and open myself up to new ways of telling stories.
At Poynter, I’ve had a lot of opportunities to grow. In the past year, I’ve been asked to join committees aimed at shaping the institute’s curriculum and future, and I’ve started teaching more. Teaching has forced me to step outside of my comfort zone and, in turn, has given me a newfound sense of confidence. (It’s much easier for me to “teach” via the written word, as opposed to teaching in front of a live audience.)
It’s been great to see how my teaching and writing overlap. After I teach a session, I often write a Poynter.org piece related to it. My teaching informs my reporting, and my reporting informs my teaching; it’s a creative cycle of learning and discovery.
As I take on my new role, I look forward to continuing to learn new things. I want to keep striking a balance between writing, editing and teaching. I want to grow as a writer, an editor and a leader. I want to work hard, and still make time for fun and the people I love.
I have a good feeling about the weeks and months ahead; there’s lots to be happy about.
While it’s important for journalists to cover the conventions, I wonder whether we need so many there. Jeff Jarvis wrote a good piece estimating that the news media will spend about $60 million sending journalists to both conventions this year. Just think about how else that money could be spent in newsrooms, which have significantly reduced their staff throughout the past few years.
I don’t like to think about how much money the media business is spending on the conventions. But, admittedly, I still get excited thinking about how many media professionals are in the Tampa Bay Area this week. As a media news reporter, I can’t help but want to be where the action is and meet some of the journalists I cover.
On Monday, I attended a Politico-sponsored breakfast where Karl Rove was the guest speaker. The following day, I covered a Poynter-sponsored luncheon, which featured a talk with Mika Brzezinski and Joe Scarborough, co-hosts of “Morning Joe.” They had some really interesting thoughts to share on how the news media lost the public’s trust and how they can regain it. (You can read my coverage of their talk here.)
At the luncheon, I caught up with Howard Fineman from The Huffington Post. I first met him when he spoke at Providence College, my alma mater, and have kept in touch with him throughout the years. He introduced me to Arianna Huffington, who I’ve interviewed but hadn’t met in person.
Maybe it’s a little unprofessional for me to be taking photos with high-profile journalists, but it’s something I’ve always done. I like being able to go through old photos and see who I’ve met, and where my job has taken me.
I passed on the invitation to last night’s “Rock the Vote” dance party with DJ Steve Aoki in Ybor City. (I feel old saying this, but I didn’t want to drive all the way to Ybor at night and try to find parking just to go to a dance party where I wouldn’t know anyone!)
Tomorrow, I hope to hang out at the CNN Grill and talk with the journalists there about how they use Poynter.org, what they like about the site and what they think needs work. My editor and I figured that since there are so many journalists in the area this week, we might as well take advantage of the opportunity and see what we can learn.
It’s a good week to be a media news reporter in Tampa Bay.
There are some people who enter your life and inspire you to be better. Jim Naughton was one of those people.
Naughton died Saturday, two days before his 74th birthday. He had battled prostate cancer for more than 15 years.
I probably wouldn’t be at Poynter today had it not been for Naughton. He helped create the Institute’s year-long Naughton fellowship, which I got after graduating from Providence College in 2007. During that time, I strengthened my writing and editing skills and learned what it’s like to work for a website. After my year was up, the fellowship turned into a job.
Several times during my fellowship, Naughton took me to lunch. Cafe Cibo, an Italian restaurant in St. Pete, was our favorite spot. Naughton would ask me how my fellowship was going, what I was learning, and what I was doing for fun. I would ask him for advice on writing and editing, and talk with him about my goals and aspirations. He always encouraged me and, in doing so, showed me what a great leader he was.
Naughton was president of The Poynter Institute from 1996 to 2003. Prior to that, he was editor of The Philadelphia Inquirer and a Washington correspondent for The New York Times. Known for his good sense of humor, Naughton believed that laughter was a necessity in the newsroom. Tom Brokaw called him the “Prince of Pranks” — a title that suited him well. When he worked at the Inquirer under Gene Roberts, Naughton put 46 bullfrogs in Roberts’ office for his 46th birthday. He also brought a camel into the newsroom.
Especially for those at major news outlets like the broadcast networks and the Washington Post and New York Times, there was an expectation we would come up with something new every day, even if Jerry Ford was doing the same thing every day. Some reporters could manage this debilitating duty; others turned to booze, some to sex, some to gourmandizing, some to late-night poker games. Some of us turned to pranks …
Throughout his career, Naughton showed that humor can create a sense of togetherness, and that hard work needs to be balanced with fun. Even when Naughton was sick, he managed to make people laugh. A few years ago, he sent me and some of my Poynter colleagues a photo of himself wearing a sumo-wrestling suit, just before he was about to receive radiation therapy. It seemed like such a Naughton thing to do.
I was lucky enough to go to lunch with Naughton and his wonderful wife Diana about two months ago. It had been a while since we’d been to lunch, so I couldn’t help but give him a big hug when I saw him. He looked tired, but still seemed like his old self.
I’ll never forget how good he was to me, and will be forever grateful that he created the Naughton fellowship. Journalism (and the world, really) needs more people like him.
When I lived alone, I rarely felt motivated to cook. I was content eating veggie burgers and salads, and really didn’t like to cook for myself. I’ve always enjoyed cooking and eating more when I’m cooking for someone or eating with someone.
Since my meat-loving boyfriend and I started living together, I’ve been cooking a lot more. I’m a vegetarian, but I don’t mind cooking him meat dishes. I just wince a little when I pull apart shreds of chicken or dig my hands into raw beef. But I do it because I like cooking for Troy and seeing him enjoy the meals I make. I never sample his meat dishes, so I rely on him to tell me how they taste.
“Hmmm, this is SO good!” he always says. “I love your cooking.” (He promises he’s not flattering me and that he’s telling the truth. …)
Cooking has helped me add more variety to my diet, and it’s been a good way for me to build a healthier relationship with food. Lately, I’ve been trying to make meals that Troy and I can both eat. I’ve made a couple of vegetarian pasta dishes that I’ve added chicken to for Troy. I know never to add mushrooms or tofu (two foods that I love and he despises) to his portion. And he knows never to sneak pieces of meat into mine.
Sometimes my tofu dishes taste bland. Other times, I forget to add garlic to a stir-fry, or I measure out a 1/3 cup of cilantro instead of a 1/4 cup. But that’s OK. Part of the fun of cooking is learning as you go, improvising recipes and eventually making them your own. I’ve learned that cooking isn’t always as glamorous or as beautiful as food blogs make it out to be. One of my favorite food bloggers, Joy Wilson, recently wrote about this:
“The truth is, I only show you a small part of what goes on in my home kitchen. That usually looks like clean, overhead shots of neatly organized ingredients, piles of chocolate chunks, and stacks of cookies. We seem to have an understanding. I try to make things extra pretty and wonderfully delicious, and you (hopefully) run to your kitchen and bust out the butter.
I love making things pretty for you, but I sometimes worry that all of this sets up an unrealistic standard in your mind. Maybe that’s why I’m always over-sharing that my thighs rub together, I used to have frizzy bangs, and I’m unnaturally afraid of spiders.”
We’re not perfect.
These photos I took of the recent meals I’ve made are far from perfect, but they at least capture the variety of recipes I’ve been trying out. I’ll post more in the future (after I start using Instagram and my old Canon Rebel more!) I hope to keep cooking, and to keep getting better at it.
I recently came across a few interviews with Weiner, who has a new book out called “The Next Best Thing.” Here are some of my favorite quotes from the interviews:
“I remember reading somewhere that you should write the book you wanted to read. So I wrote a book about an unapologetically Jewish, unapologetically plus-size heroine. I gave her a mom who’d come out of the closet and a father who’d dropped out of her life, and a boyfriend who was a lot like Satan — and I gave her a happy ending.
“Then I worked my tail off, getting the next book ready, and getting the word out about ‘Good in Bed,’ because I believed then, and still believe, that nobody will ever love your book more or, hence, work harder on its behalf, than you, the author.” — Salon
“I think that women who’ve spoken out about issues of gender equity at places like the Times and NPR have been ignored. God knows we’ve been belittled. I think now we’re in the fighting stage. I hope that, someday, we’ll win. I hope that if either of my daughters is a writer, she won’t have to jump through an extra, female-specific set of hoops to prove that what she’s written is worthy of serious consideration, even if – especially if – it deals with romance, and friendship, and family, and maybe even shoes.” — Mediabistro
Since I’m sharing quotes, I might as well add a few others from some of my favorite authors:
“I read and walked for miles at night along the beach, writing bad blank verse and searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that that person could be me.” — Anna Quindlen
“The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.” — Anna Quindlen
“To free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves – there lies the great, singular power of self-respect.” — Joan Didion
“Until we believe we are enough, we’ll never believe we have enough.” — Geneen Roth
“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” — Mary Anne Radmacher
“Be the heroine of your life, not the victim.” Nora Ephron
The optimist in me kept saying, “It’s OK; you should be happy you made it this far! You can just try again year.” Of course, though, I was bummed and wished I had come away with an award.
I came away with something perhaps more valuable, though — writing advice from my favorite author, Anna Quindlen. About a week before my trip, I finished Anna’s new memoir, “Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake.” So much of it resonated with me — particularly the passages about losing her mom, about her thoughts on Catholicism and about her belief that “a single moment can mark the dividing line between who you are and who you never wanted to be.”
As I read her book, I couldn’t help but think about how great it would be to talk with her in person. I contacted her one night to see if she would be willing to meet with me while I was in New York City.
I thought it was a long-shot, but she replied. A week later, we met for a late lunch and talked about writing.
I was struck by how humble and gracious Anna was; you could tell she was genuinely interested in my memoir and my life experiences. She asked me a lot of questions and gave me such sound advice. She also shared this Ernest Hemmingway quote with me: “The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” How true.
I’m grateful I got a chance to meet with Anna, and that I got so much out of our visit; now I have a much better sense of how I want to structure my memoir, and writing it has been easier. It makes all the difference when a writer whose work you admire believes in you.