Today is my last day as Director, Internet Marketing for Clarins. I start an exciting new job on the 19th which will be getting lots of coverage here shortly. Between now and then, I’m getting away from the Internet: no random surfing, no obsessive checking of email, no social networking pings. It’s not often one can “get away from it all” without deliberately going on vacation and leaving the BlackBerry at home, and I’m looking forward to the opportunity. See you in a few weeks.
Category: Personal (Page 16 of 25)
My Smart Experience class has an official date, time, and location. (Some content will be posted to the site soon, too.) I hope to see you on November 15. Interested in attending? Contact me for a discount rate.
(Previously: Back to school)
I am pleased to announce that I’ll be teaching a class in Victor Lombardi’s new Smart Experience professional school.
The class, Managaing the Online-Offline Partnership, derives from my career in “traditional” offline organizations and the great challenge many of us face: bringing the value and importance of Internet activity to an organization whose focus isn’t in the online arena.
The challenge is one I’ve tackled with brio over the years; indeed, “evangelism” has even been a part of my job description on multiple occasions. The task is as fascinating as it is complicated. When you have colleagues running an eight-figure business, and the Internet represents barely 10% of your readership or your revenue base, it’s easy for said colleagues to dismiss your initiatives as a side project, even when those initiatives’ impact has a much lengthier reach. The challenge is bringing that reach to light, and creating excitement and momentum in what to others may be both marginal and frightening.
I plan on hosting a fully participatory session, with light case studies, some role playing, and lots of input from the assembled. SmartEx is new, so class is entirely what my students and I will make of it. My readers are invited to join me in my session, as I make my humbly triumphant return to a classroom setting. (I last taught in the 1990s at open-i media, back in the days when HTML had to be coded by hand.) I’m looking forward to it.
Ideapad readers are eligible for a discount for enrolling in my class–contact me and I’ll pass along the code.
I am more than a little proud to report that my talented wife Amy has had a recent commercial, “Pinball” for Pepsi, nominated for an Emmy.
This is the second time in three years that her work has been Emmy-nominated; two years ago her “Drink” for Aquafina also received a nomination. Amy is doubly honored this year, because she worked on the GE “Jar” spot that was also nominated for outstanding commercial. Not bad to have two nominations at once, and right on the heels of her first Super Bowl work, too.
The author of this page is one proud husband.
• Pepsi: “Pinball” on amywertheimer.com
We bought a striped Chilewich welcome mat for the front door of our new apartment. Since the hall floors are tile, the building permits them, and since our door is directly opposite the elevator, the Chilewich is on display.
The other morning we came out of our apartment as our neighbors were waiting for the elevator. Little Ellie, age 4, made eye contact with Amy and beamed.
“I like your new mat,” Ellie declared.
“Thank you very much,” Amy replied.
“My babysitter doesn’t like it, but I do!”
This time last year I was suffering through Passover in Paris, a not insubstantial test of willpower in the land of perfect bread (which I am pleased to report ended successfully, with a rather wonderful meal of homemade pasta and good company).
So what do I do as an encore this year? I fly to Texas on day seven of the observance, and am forced to break Passover on the plane, with some half-day-old bread purchased on a business lunch and sheepishly carted around Dallas in the back seat of a colleague’s car.
Next year I may just lock myself in a bakery midweek. Probably wouldn’t be much more exasperating.
No, that’s not a band: Amy and I bought an apartment. It’s a prewar two-bedroom “Edwardian five” on West End Avenue.
What, pray tell, is that? To quote the New York Times, an Edwardian five is “a one-bedroom for a rich bachelor or widow (probably not for a young single woman—they rarely lived alone in Edwardian times): only one bedroom but a preposterously large dining room and, of course, a maid’s room.” And indeed, that’s what we have, oversized dining room and all.
Our broker called us hopelessly romantic when we fell for the place, with its high ceilings, inlaid wood floors, stained glass bathroom windows, intact transoms, and extensive moldings. We’re in the midst of pushing it even further into prewar-ness, with fresh paint from the Benjamin Moore historical palette and accessories like glass doorknobs (from eBay, of course). Romance is in a holding pattern, though, as the days since closing have been heavily consumed by painting and spackling and arguing about dining room chairs. We move in early April.
Wondering what an Edwardian five is like? Here’s the floorplan:
My mother spent the past few months producing a benefit performance of “The Vagina Monologues” at the new South Orange Performing Arts Center (SOPAC), culminating in two sold-out shows this week, the first of which I attended with my family. In short, the play was terrific, and so was Mom’s big scene.
I could write extensively about the implications of hearing one’s mother scream, “C… U… N… CUNNNNNNNN…” while sitting with one’s father, wife and brother. But the truer emotion to recollect is one of the pride I—we—feel, in both the production and her standout performance.
I haven’t been able to find quite the right words (beyond, well, you know). My future sister-in-law, on the other hand, says it beautifully. Do give it a read, and don’t miss the comments.
Y’know, you go on vacation, and you think to yourself, “It’s going to be a great week, seeing new things, relaxing, taking in the sights, soaking up the local culture.” What you don’t think is, “Hey, y’know what’ll be great? Flying half a mile across a 600-foot-deep valley between hills on the side of a volcano in the middle of a rainforest….”
I’m out of town (and the country) until March 4, primarily in (hot) Costa Rica. Whether or not I will be reachable via email remains to be seen. Whether or not I enjoy the suspended aquatic massage—I have a hunch….