With Christmas behind us, I am patting myself on the back for successfully "low keying" it a bit this year. Despite that, I still have several presents lying around that need to be put away, and there is at least one thing in need of exchanging or returning, but other than that, Christmas is over. Hurray.
My favorite thing about this Christmas was a couple of activities I did that really lifted my spirits. They were those "once a year" or "once every few years" things you do that make you feel like you've experienced at least something special.
My mother and I went to see the Texas Ballet Theatre on Friday afternoon for their presentation of The Nutcracker. Despite my early dismay at realizing there was no orchestra (what kind of big city ballet dances to tape?), the quality of the sets, the dancers, and the costumes made me forget all about it. The Texas Ballet Theatre company is good. Darn good. The choreography was the classic choreography, but these dancers took it to its limits. I found the entire production to be very good. In fact, there are parts of the music that, when combined with the grace and beauty of the dancers, moved me to tears.
I have a bit of history with the Nutcracker. In Boulder I was on the board of the Boulder Ballet for many years, and I was the president of the ballet for a couple of those. I know more about the business of ballet -- fundraising, budgets, dealing with artistic personnel - than about the art of ballet, but I know more about that than most too, I suppose.
My time with the Boulder Ballet was more than a decade ago, but seeing the Nutcracker brought it all back. I really enjoyed being involved with the "project" side of putting on a big production. Ours was big too, and quite a logistical exercise. We did it at Thanksgiving time so that we could rent sets from bigger companies and get them back before they needed them, hire principal dancers from other ballets during their "vacation time," and use university dancers before they left for Chrismtas as part of our company. But even in Boulder, we had a real orchestra -- the Boulder Philharmonic, in fact, which eventually, as part of our maneuvers as a board (but after I was long gone) merged with our little ballet company. There may be a story behind why there was no orchestra in Dallas. In fact there was an "In memory of" section dedicated to a conductor, so I suppose he died suddenly and there was no one to replace him, and as I said, the show went on gloriously. It was a real treat.
On Sunday, my oldest woke up and asked "What are we doing today?" Having no formal plans, he suggested going to the Dallas Art Museum to see the King Tut exhibition. He has been talking about this for a few weeks, ever since his art teacher taught his Art I class about the ancient Egyptians and they studied ancient Egyptian art forms.
So because number one gets whatever he wants, and number two and spouse had no desire to go to the art museum, I took my son to see the King Tut exhibit yesterday.
I'm so glad I did.
In 1922, a group of archeologists who were already clearing out pharoahs tombs in the Valley of the Kings stumbled (literally) over the entrance to young King Tut's tomb. From the photos of the discovery it looked not unlike a storage unit full of stuff you have no room for in your house. Once removed, catalogued, identified, and cleaned (where needed) it was a treasure trove of possessions owned by a boy king.
We saw Tut's "game system" (a game board with two games, drawers for the pieces, and everything in tact), we saw his mallard-shaped cosmetic case (this was Egypt and he was royalty, so yes, he wore heavy eye liner and make-up), and we saw the coffin that his liver had been buried in. We saw the five gold treasures -- a necklace, a daggar and sheath, a headress, a couple others I can't recall -- that were among the more than 100 pieces of jewelry that were wrapped into the different layers of his mummy.
We saw gallery after gallery of ancient artifacts and treasures -- from Tut's grandparents tombs and from his own. We saw treasures that belonged to his father, also a king, and to his father's "main" wife, who was King Tut's mother-in-law. Yes, King Tut married his half sister, the daughter of his father's other wife, at the age of nine. At some point during his life he and his wife had two still born children, whose mummified remains were found in golden splendor with tiny baby death masks inside the King's tomb.
There is speculation that the tomb was never intended to be a King's tomb. Perhaps it was for the babies alone, but with Tut's sudden and unexpected death, they had to put him somewhere. The good news is that the treasures were preserved because grave robbers, who destroyed so much of ancient Egypt during the last 3200 years, never found the site.
The story of King Tut is amazing. It continues too, as a 2005 cat scan revealed no evidence of foul play, even though King Tut died mysteriously and quickly at the young age of 19.
I could go on about Tut, but just let it suffice to say that this exhibition was worth seeing. It's the same one that has been in and out off the U.S. over the last 20 or 30 years, but this was the first chance I've had to get to it.
The Dallas Art Museum has lots of other treasures. We spent a few minutes in the art galleries upstairs where we saw a Picasso and a couple Monets, a Renoir sketch and full painting, some beautiful works by Camille Pissaro, Rodin statues, and even a Van Gogh. We also saw some Mondrian paintings, which were interesting to me since I've worked with designers on Mondrian style brochures before.
My son loved the King Tut exhibition. We both had the audio tour, and that's the only way to go. Otherwise there is too much reading and not enough information anyway. It also makes it a self-directed tour, and it allows you to get the most from what's there.
Yes, I had some nice holiday events. Give me a ticket to the art museum or ballet for Christmas any year. I'm very thankful of having a big city nearby that offers these types of things. It's really nice to step out of your element into a world that is so much bigger or more beautiful than your own. Ballet, golden treasures, and art. Ahhhhhh. A perfect Christmas.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
How to Get Out of Doing Favors for Your Kids
In the interest of passing along my ever-growing knowledge of child-rearing, I have a lesson for today. It's "How to Get Out of Doing Favors for Your Kids."
This morning my 14-year old asked if I would bring him Burger King for lunch. This is a once or twice a year affair, usually during final exam week, which this is. Being the wonderful mother I am, and knowing that I had no meetings and would be home working all day and could probably use a break around noon, I agreed.
My morning went in the fashion that is typical of a successful publicist's high-powered office. It was shear chaos. From the time I got up until just before noon things were crazy. Good crazy, but crazy all the same. See, if you do your job right, putting out a press release (itself a time consuming and arduous processs of meetings, writing, editing, approvals, and pitching) is just the first part of the work. The money work comes when editors call, reporters e-mail, interviews are needed, and everyone is on deadline. Thus went my morning. Great hit with a major target newspaper, interviews happened yesterday, photos are happening today. All is well. But busy.
At precisely 12:20 I grabbed my keys, my wallet and my phone and headed to Burger King with an ETA at the junior high mandated as 12:55. My son had taken it upon himself to remind me of my task around an hour earlier. That's something he's learned to do since he knows how crazy my office can be. In his text he gave me his order: "Quad stacker, no sauce, add ketchup and mustard, large fries, large Coke." Even though it's the same order he's had since he graduated from "Double cheeseburger no pickle," he at least knows enough about me to feel a refresher course is necessary.
No sooner had I got on the road than I realized the roads were slick. Black ice here in Texas, especially over bridges. Since I have to cross several bridges over the lake to get to town, I slowed down to a comfortable speed, knowing as I did that my schedule would be all off due to weather. That was something my 14-year old would certainly not understand.
As I made it safely into town I realized I'd forgotten about the construction, yet my target location required that I go through the major road work area. I bit my lip and knew that traffic was another reason that didn't get me any understanding from my son. I've tried that before.
Once through the traffic snarls of the construction zone, I began multi-tasking and looking for my wallet and money. Quickly I remembered that both boys requested money for lunch today -- in fact even the one who wanted Burger King had taken my last ten dollars. A quick trip through the ATM would have to occur before I could hit the fast food line. Time was ticking. 12:41. I would never make it.
After saying a little prayer, I was pleasantly surprised to find the ATM lane free from traffic, even as I looked at the line at the McDonalds nearby. "Hopefully Burger King won't have a line," I thought to myself, knowing my son would never give me any credit if the drive-through line slowed me down.
I got the cash and meandered through the parking lots to return to the main drag and my destination. Driving into the parking lot I was careful not to hit the elderly gentleman, someone's grandfather, no doubt, who was moving slowly across the lot. Even Dylan might have understood that sort of delay, but it would not have gotten me off the hook for being late.
To my surprise, after the geezer was safely out of my way and I had waited for a truck full of workers to head back to their freezing cold outdoor jobs, I found myself first in line at the drive through.
I ordered the burger exactly as texted, drove to the window and paid -- over eight bucks. Ouch. Add that to the ten dollars I gave him for lunch and he could have had steak, I thought to myself, or maybe I said it out loud. I do that sometimes.
Burger bag and drink safely in the car, I waited for traffic to clear then quickly made my way back through town, through the surprisingly free from snarls construction site, through a green light toward the school. "12:54" my car clock said. "I can't believe it" I said outloud to myself. "This has to be some sort of miracle."
I pulled into the lot at 12:55, fully expecting my phone to ring and my son to say "WHERE ARE YOU?" But no. I went into the office, spoke to the receptionist, told her what I had, and she said, to my shock and dismay, "Sign in, you can take it down there."
As I signed in I thought about the fact that I had gone straight to work this morning without much care for my appearance. I knew I wasn't wearing make-up, wasn't sure if I had combed my hair, but a quick glance in the window of the door and I thought, "I look alright. No one will care."
I got directions to the cafeteria. (This is a new school this year, and I have never been to the cafeteria.) I'm not good with directions, and I was worried that I'd end up wandering the halls. As I left the office I thankfully ran into a friend. "Hi, Connie, are you going to the cafeteria?" Teachers are smart, and she'd seen the Burger King bag.
"How are you, blah blah blah," we said as we meandered down the hall. I was ever mindful of the slow pace we were moving as we discussed holiday plans, the school vacation, etc. Dylan would be pacing by now. But I was in the home stretch.
As we walked into a cafeteria full of kids, my friend said, "Dylan usually eats down there," and she pointed right as she turned left and left me standing all alone. I looked where she had pointed, and I didn't see Dylan. I was now aware of hundreds of teenage eyes staring at me. "They wish I was THEIR mom," I thought to myself, as I smiled and kept looking. Then I saw him: the apple of my eye, my baby boy, the reason I'd braved the elements and made the trek.
He was walking toward me, and as he did, I walked toward him. The signs of joy I had expected to see were missing, and fading fast into a frown. I wasn't that late, so it couldn't be that. I had Burger King, which his text distinctly requested. What could it be, my subconcious wondered.
As he reached out to take the food, he looked at me with what can only be described as a combination of pity and disgust, and he said, "Geez, Mom...[grunt], did you have to wear such a fruity shirt?" Only then, as he grabbed the bag and turned on his heels, did I realize the gravity of the situation.
My son's MOM came into the cafeteria. She didn't drop the food at the office for delivery as she had in the past. Not only did she COME to the cafeteria, but she came wearing a bright green sweatshirt with a GIANT CHRISTMAS TREE on it. OHMIGOD. My son's mother was wearing a glittery, admittedly goofy shirt, with tinsel and bulbs, and colorful bangles hanging all over it. It is a shirt I'll readily admit is not for public consumption. It's a home day holiday shirt, something you throw on when you get up in the morning but certainly NOT something you wear to the junior high to deliver food to your son.
As I walked away I also became cognizant of my snow boots that my jeans were haphazardly tucked in, and the scarf wrapped around my neck. I now could freely admit it. I looked like I was dressed to go to Santa's workshop. What a geek.
I sulked through the office and signed out, picked up my car keys I had left there and that were already in the lost and found, and called my husband, knowing he'd help me put it in perspective.
Within minutes, we were laughing. As always, he put the positive on the story: "Look at it this way...he won't ask you to bring him lunch any more."
That is, I'm sure, very true. And you know, after all that, that's just fine with me.
This morning my 14-year old asked if I would bring him Burger King for lunch. This is a once or twice a year affair, usually during final exam week, which this is. Being the wonderful mother I am, and knowing that I had no meetings and would be home working all day and could probably use a break around noon, I agreed.
My morning went in the fashion that is typical of a successful publicist's high-powered office. It was shear chaos. From the time I got up until just before noon things were crazy. Good crazy, but crazy all the same. See, if you do your job right, putting out a press release (itself a time consuming and arduous processs of meetings, writing, editing, approvals, and pitching) is just the first part of the work. The money work comes when editors call, reporters e-mail, interviews are needed, and everyone is on deadline. Thus went my morning. Great hit with a major target newspaper, interviews happened yesterday, photos are happening today. All is well. But busy.
At precisely 12:20 I grabbed my keys, my wallet and my phone and headed to Burger King with an ETA at the junior high mandated as 12:55. My son had taken it upon himself to remind me of my task around an hour earlier. That's something he's learned to do since he knows how crazy my office can be. In his text he gave me his order: "Quad stacker, no sauce, add ketchup and mustard, large fries, large Coke." Even though it's the same order he's had since he graduated from "Double cheeseburger no pickle," he at least knows enough about me to feel a refresher course is necessary.
No sooner had I got on the road than I realized the roads were slick. Black ice here in Texas, especially over bridges. Since I have to cross several bridges over the lake to get to town, I slowed down to a comfortable speed, knowing as I did that my schedule would be all off due to weather. That was something my 14-year old would certainly not understand.
As I made it safely into town I realized I'd forgotten about the construction, yet my target location required that I go through the major road work area. I bit my lip and knew that traffic was another reason that didn't get me any understanding from my son. I've tried that before.
Once through the traffic snarls of the construction zone, I began multi-tasking and looking for my wallet and money. Quickly I remembered that both boys requested money for lunch today -- in fact even the one who wanted Burger King had taken my last ten dollars. A quick trip through the ATM would have to occur before I could hit the fast food line. Time was ticking. 12:41. I would never make it.
After saying a little prayer, I was pleasantly surprised to find the ATM lane free from traffic, even as I looked at the line at the McDonalds nearby. "Hopefully Burger King won't have a line," I thought to myself, knowing my son would never give me any credit if the drive-through line slowed me down.
I got the cash and meandered through the parking lots to return to the main drag and my destination. Driving into the parking lot I was careful not to hit the elderly gentleman, someone's grandfather, no doubt, who was moving slowly across the lot. Even Dylan might have understood that sort of delay, but it would not have gotten me off the hook for being late.
To my surprise, after the geezer was safely out of my way and I had waited for a truck full of workers to head back to their freezing cold outdoor jobs, I found myself first in line at the drive through.
I ordered the burger exactly as texted, drove to the window and paid -- over eight bucks. Ouch. Add that to the ten dollars I gave him for lunch and he could have had steak, I thought to myself, or maybe I said it out loud. I do that sometimes.
Burger bag and drink safely in the car, I waited for traffic to clear then quickly made my way back through town, through the surprisingly free from snarls construction site, through a green light toward the school. "12:54" my car clock said. "I can't believe it" I said outloud to myself. "This has to be some sort of miracle."
I pulled into the lot at 12:55, fully expecting my phone to ring and my son to say "WHERE ARE YOU?" But no. I went into the office, spoke to the receptionist, told her what I had, and she said, to my shock and dismay, "Sign in, you can take it down there."
As I signed in I thought about the fact that I had gone straight to work this morning without much care for my appearance. I knew I wasn't wearing make-up, wasn't sure if I had combed my hair, but a quick glance in the window of the door and I thought, "I look alright. No one will care."
I got directions to the cafeteria. (This is a new school this year, and I have never been to the cafeteria.) I'm not good with directions, and I was worried that I'd end up wandering the halls. As I left the office I thankfully ran into a friend. "Hi, Connie, are you going to the cafeteria?" Teachers are smart, and she'd seen the Burger King bag.
"How are you, blah blah blah," we said as we meandered down the hall. I was ever mindful of the slow pace we were moving as we discussed holiday plans, the school vacation, etc. Dylan would be pacing by now. But I was in the home stretch.
As we walked into a cafeteria full of kids, my friend said, "Dylan usually eats down there," and she pointed right as she turned left and left me standing all alone. I looked where she had pointed, and I didn't see Dylan. I was now aware of hundreds of teenage eyes staring at me. "They wish I was THEIR mom," I thought to myself, as I smiled and kept looking. Then I saw him: the apple of my eye, my baby boy, the reason I'd braved the elements and made the trek.
He was walking toward me, and as he did, I walked toward him. The signs of joy I had expected to see were missing, and fading fast into a frown. I wasn't that late, so it couldn't be that. I had Burger King, which his text distinctly requested. What could it be, my subconcious wondered.
As he reached out to take the food, he looked at me with what can only be described as a combination of pity and disgust, and he said, "Geez, Mom...[grunt], did you have to wear such a fruity shirt?" Only then, as he grabbed the bag and turned on his heels, did I realize the gravity of the situation.
My son's MOM came into the cafeteria. She didn't drop the food at the office for delivery as she had in the past. Not only did she COME to the cafeteria, but she came wearing a bright green sweatshirt with a GIANT CHRISTMAS TREE on it. OHMIGOD. My son's mother was wearing a glittery, admittedly goofy shirt, with tinsel and bulbs, and colorful bangles hanging all over it. It is a shirt I'll readily admit is not for public consumption. It's a home day holiday shirt, something you throw on when you get up in the morning but certainly NOT something you wear to the junior high to deliver food to your son.
As I walked away I also became cognizant of my snow boots that my jeans were haphazardly tucked in, and the scarf wrapped around my neck. I now could freely admit it. I looked like I was dressed to go to Santa's workshop. What a geek.
I sulked through the office and signed out, picked up my car keys I had left there and that were already in the lost and found, and called my husband, knowing he'd help me put it in perspective.
Within minutes, we were laughing. As always, he put the positive on the story: "Look at it this way...he won't ask you to bring him lunch any more."
That is, I'm sure, very true. And you know, after all that, that's just fine with me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Proud to be an American?
I used to be proud to be an American. I even made a conscientious effort to buy an American car the last time around. In fact, my husband and I have bought four Fords in the last five years -- three of them brand new cars. They have been great cars, so I have to disagree with the ad shown at left in one respect. I would change the headline to "You wouldn't buy our overpriced cars."
Now I bought American after years of driving expensive imports, including Saabs and Beemers. In all honesty, our decision to switch to American cars had less to do with the fact that they were American than with the fact that we live in the boonies and have a nice Ford dealership here. I used to drive a BMW sedan, but every time something went wrong -- and it was frequently -- I had to drive it to Dallas for servicing or sit and listen to some grease monkey tell me why I should buy a Ford. With my BMW, every time something went wrong it was $1500 -- minimum. So we bought Fords.
First my husband bought a small commuter car - a ZX2. It was "cute." I think I told him it was cute one time too many, so he traded it for a Mustang. The Mustang still gets good mileage, but it looks a little less "cute" and a little more "cool." It's not fancy, but it's paid for. Out of necessity for hauling kids and sports gear, I bought an SUV. Initially I bought a Ford Escape. It was brand new, and it was pretty, but it was pricey, and there was something not quite right with the size. The engine was way too fast for the size of the car, and I never felt safe in it. When I'd step on the gas, that thing would go, with the rear end fishtailing onto the highway. Within a few months I was back at the dealership asking to trade. I traded "up" to a Explorer. It has an even bigger engine, but it's a much heavier car, and I have really liked this car. It holds seven people comfortably, has a rack on the top for our luggage, the two boys can spread out on road trips, and it is hefty enough to pull our boat. It's been a great car -- for more than 180,000 miles.
I understand why American car manufacturers are in trouble though. It's not so much about the cars they make, at least not the American cars I have experience with. It's about the way you are treated at car dealerships. Through the years, and before we moved to this small town where there is a really good dealership, I had learned to avoid that car buying experience like the plague.
If you go in to trade a car, they rip you off and give you far less than the car is worth. When you're caught up in the car buying experience, you don't really notice, but most people have buyer's remorse the day after they've made the trade.
If you trade in a car that you still owe money on, they are happy to roll the balance into your new car loan. That way you start out with a new car that you owe more on than it's worth, not to mention the fact that the second you drive it off the lot, it becomes a used car and is worth far less than you paid for it.
My most recent dealings with car dealerships have come while shopping for a car for my teenage son. I'm no fool. I know that no teenager needs a new car, so I've done some shopping around. I have shopped online, on ebay, and I've shopped in person at dealerships. I am not going to make payments on a car for a kid, but no matter what you go in for, the guys on the car lot always want to sell you something else. If you want to find something for $5000, they show you something for $15000. If you decide you're willing to pay $10,000, they want you to buy a new car for $23,000.
This process has been so frustrating that I finally gave up. In fact I won't go near a car dealership, except for service. Service at a dealership is great. But apparently fewer people are having their cars serviced regularly, so those of us who do go in are footing the bill. We get upsold all sorts of things that we probably need but didn't go in for in the first place.
I've gone in for a simple oil change ($30) and spent $500 on all sorts of maintenance they said I needed. I've gone in for a tire rotation and been scared silly by mechanics who tell me I'm just miles away from a major blow out that could result in the end of my life, so I've bought new tires. I've also gone in for a simple servicing and spent WAY TOO LONG in the waiting room. The last time I went to my local dealership, I was there three hours. THREE HOURS! As much as I love those guys, there were people coming and going while I sat and sat, probably while they looked for something else to fix on my car. After the second hour, that got old.
So if people don't want to buy cars from car dealers, and they don't want to get their cars serviced at the dealers, the dealers are going to hurt. If the dealers hurt, the manufacturers hurt. If the manufacturers hurt, the auto workers hurt, and if the auto workers hurt, we're told, everyone suffers and the economy goes into a tailspin.
I don't necessarily buy it. I think if the car dealers were honest, and the service people were efficient, the general public wouldn't avoid buying cars or having them serviced.
I think the biggest problem is the price, which is caused by the unions. The union guys make $60- $80 an hour, and a lot of them don't do anything physically demanding or that requires a brain. Yet because it's the UAW, they have power. They are the cause of the high prices on American cars and the lack of competiveness for U.S. auto makers. They are the cause of making cars cost so much that the average citizen has had to go far into debt beyond what he or she could afford to buy a car to get him or her to that job where he or she doesn't make enough money to make the payment.
When combined with the unscrupulous banks that have let those people buy those expensive cars (and homes) in the first place, it's just one big circular mess. Is it an easy fix? No! Is it because American cars aren't made well? No.
I think it boils down to greed. Greed at the top of the auto companies and absolutely at the banks, greed at the union level, greed at the dealership level, and even greed at the consumer level.
Proud to be an American? Not really. But if I can ever afford to buy an American car again, I will. I have had good experience with the quality. It's the price and now the financing I have a problem with.
I do not want our government giving the auto makers federal money -- our money. They have received enough of it, and they have frittered it away. Let the auto workers lose their jobs. Let the execs at those companies lose their jobs and their golden parachutes. Let the bank executives lose their jobs. Then maybe they'll have to work for a living like the rest of us.
Now I bought American after years of driving expensive imports, including Saabs and Beemers. In all honesty, our decision to switch to American cars had less to do with the fact that they were American than with the fact that we live in the boonies and have a nice Ford dealership here. I used to drive a BMW sedan, but every time something went wrong -- and it was frequently -- I had to drive it to Dallas for servicing or sit and listen to some grease monkey tell me why I should buy a Ford. With my BMW, every time something went wrong it was $1500 -- minimum. So we bought Fords.
First my husband bought a small commuter car - a ZX2. It was "cute." I think I told him it was cute one time too many, so he traded it for a Mustang. The Mustang still gets good mileage, but it looks a little less "cute" and a little more "cool." It's not fancy, but it's paid for. Out of necessity for hauling kids and sports gear, I bought an SUV. Initially I bought a Ford Escape. It was brand new, and it was pretty, but it was pricey, and there was something not quite right with the size. The engine was way too fast for the size of the car, and I never felt safe in it. When I'd step on the gas, that thing would go, with the rear end fishtailing onto the highway. Within a few months I was back at the dealership asking to trade. I traded "up" to a Explorer. It has an even bigger engine, but it's a much heavier car, and I have really liked this car. It holds seven people comfortably, has a rack on the top for our luggage, the two boys can spread out on road trips, and it is hefty enough to pull our boat. It's been a great car -- for more than 180,000 miles.
I understand why American car manufacturers are in trouble though. It's not so much about the cars they make, at least not the American cars I have experience with. It's about the way you are treated at car dealerships. Through the years, and before we moved to this small town where there is a really good dealership, I had learned to avoid that car buying experience like the plague.
If you go in to trade a car, they rip you off and give you far less than the car is worth. When you're caught up in the car buying experience, you don't really notice, but most people have buyer's remorse the day after they've made the trade.
If you trade in a car that you still owe money on, they are happy to roll the balance into your new car loan. That way you start out with a new car that you owe more on than it's worth, not to mention the fact that the second you drive it off the lot, it becomes a used car and is worth far less than you paid for it.
My most recent dealings with car dealerships have come while shopping for a car for my teenage son. I'm no fool. I know that no teenager needs a new car, so I've done some shopping around. I have shopped online, on ebay, and I've shopped in person at dealerships. I am not going to make payments on a car for a kid, but no matter what you go in for, the guys on the car lot always want to sell you something else. If you want to find something for $5000, they show you something for $15000. If you decide you're willing to pay $10,000, they want you to buy a new car for $23,000.
This process has been so frustrating that I finally gave up. In fact I won't go near a car dealership, except for service. Service at a dealership is great. But apparently fewer people are having their cars serviced regularly, so those of us who do go in are footing the bill. We get upsold all sorts of things that we probably need but didn't go in for in the first place.
I've gone in for a simple oil change ($30) and spent $500 on all sorts of maintenance they said I needed. I've gone in for a tire rotation and been scared silly by mechanics who tell me I'm just miles away from a major blow out that could result in the end of my life, so I've bought new tires. I've also gone in for a simple servicing and spent WAY TOO LONG in the waiting room. The last time I went to my local dealership, I was there three hours. THREE HOURS! As much as I love those guys, there were people coming and going while I sat and sat, probably while they looked for something else to fix on my car. After the second hour, that got old.
So if people don't want to buy cars from car dealers, and they don't want to get their cars serviced at the dealers, the dealers are going to hurt. If the dealers hurt, the manufacturers hurt. If the manufacturers hurt, the auto workers hurt, and if the auto workers hurt, we're told, everyone suffers and the economy goes into a tailspin.
I don't necessarily buy it. I think if the car dealers were honest, and the service people were efficient, the general public wouldn't avoid buying cars or having them serviced.
I think the biggest problem is the price, which is caused by the unions. The union guys make $60- $80 an hour, and a lot of them don't do anything physically demanding or that requires a brain. Yet because it's the UAW, they have power. They are the cause of the high prices on American cars and the lack of competiveness for U.S. auto makers. They are the cause of making cars cost so much that the average citizen has had to go far into debt beyond what he or she could afford to buy a car to get him or her to that job where he or she doesn't make enough money to make the payment.
When combined with the unscrupulous banks that have let those people buy those expensive cars (and homes) in the first place, it's just one big circular mess. Is it an easy fix? No! Is it because American cars aren't made well? No.
I think it boils down to greed. Greed at the top of the auto companies and absolutely at the banks, greed at the union level, greed at the dealership level, and even greed at the consumer level.
Proud to be an American? Not really. But if I can ever afford to buy an American car again, I will. I have had good experience with the quality. It's the price and now the financing I have a problem with.
I do not want our government giving the auto makers federal money -- our money. They have received enough of it, and they have frittered it away. Let the auto workers lose their jobs. Let the execs at those companies lose their jobs and their golden parachutes. Let the bank executives lose their jobs. Then maybe they'll have to work for a living like the rest of us.
Monday, December 1, 2008
You know you live in a small town when...
My city slicker friends always marvel at how I manage to live out in the sticks like I do. They come visit once in a while and make a big deal out of driving CLEAR out here, a whole 45 minutes from downtown Dallas. Of course, it's true, it is a whole different lifestyle. Instead of murder and mayhem in our newspapers, we get to read about the activities of the local Garden Club, Literary Club, Civic League and Chamber of Commerce. We get to read about our student athletes and prom queens and about the sermons at the gazillion churchs that dot our byways. My mother, who is very active in just about every club in town, gets her picture in the paper quite frequently. But this past week we all had a good laugh at the "news" when we opened the local paper. To the right is the big news item about my mother, Ruth Boswell, winning a pair of pruning shears at the local garden club meeting. Now this is something you won't find in the Dallas Morning News.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Incongruity
At the risk of turning away some avid readers of this blog (welcome back both of you), I am going to share something very personal. If you're here because you're interested in publicity or copywriting services, please back out of this blog and back into http://www.outreachpr.com/copywriting.htm (my website) for a visit to my portfolio. Otherwise, get ready for something a bit .... out there.
If you're still here, remember, I warned you. This is personal.
I believe in God, and as such I pray. I took to reading the bible a few years ago, and I have learned a lot. At this point I know I have read the entire bible at least a couple of times in my life. I go to church in spurts. I've been in an off-spurt for about six months, maybe a year. Before that I was in an on-spurt for a year or so. That's sort of the longest on-spurt of my life, but it was significant.
Anyway, what I do know is that since I turned over all my troubles and concerns to God, I've been much more at peace. When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders and you're trying to make ends meet, achieve your client objectives to ensure continued business success, etc., it can be tough.
Before I gave my problems over to God I used to wake up in the middle of the night worried. I worried about whether a certain editor would write a story for a certain client. I worried about getting my work done and where the next work after it would come from. I worried about cashflow and paying my bills. I worried about my kids, their friends. I just worried. Things always seemed to work out, but I sure worked hard to make everything happen. Since I gave the worrying part over to God, it's a lot easier.
Now I focus on solving the problems, not worrying about them. I have more work than I can possibly do, with quality people who pay me when they say they will what they say they will. I didn't go find these people. Somehow they found me. Each and every one of them make my world somehow better. I help them promote their businesses and create awareness of their events and activities and I hope I make their lives better too.
They did not randomly find me. I asked for them in prayer, and they came. Call it coincidence, call it good karma, call it effective internet marketing and brandwidth...whatever you call it, it's happened.
What I do with what comes my way, I believe, determines what else I might be "eligible for." I am on a path to the next level. I want to achieve for my kids and for my own future. I don't have a lot of choice, so I have to just keep plowing ahead.
The other day when I was praying, I got a message. This has happened maybe twice in my life. (Or at least only twice when I've had ready access to pen and paper or that I've been paying attention to the idea of a RESPONSE to my prayer.) This particular day I was making breakfast and praying and being very positive, and I got these words. I wrote them on my white board in my office, because it was so clear it was like someone said it outloud. I didn't know what any of it meant, and it was coming so fast, I just stopped, went into the office and started writing. Here's what the words, still there, say:
"Do you see the ridiculousness of your endeavors?"
and
"One person can't do it all."
and
"Incongruous"
There's more, but that's a lot. So we'll start there.
That day, after I got the kids off to school I jumped back into my routine and ignored what I'd written on the board, a little, but it was definitely on my mind. I began to look for ridicuolousness and incongruity. Wow. Those are heavy, heavy, way heavy things. Who talks to you like that? I looked up incongruity, flipped it to the positive, and started evaluating my day based on the word "congruity." Pretty quickly, I found some, but not a lot. I saw opportunities for more.
I swiveled in my chair where back on the white board I'd written:
"Incongruity between your responsibilities and your lifestyle."
Wow. What does that mean? Which part of my lifestyle? Is it the "do everything for everyone while making enough money for the entire family" part? Hey, that fits with the previous thing: "One person can't do it all."
Other lifestyle issues: Hmmmm...this does get personal and although I never think about how my choices are "bad," but maybe they are. With all the work I have to do, do I really have time to go to the hockey rink four times a week, particularly when I have a spouse who is not incapable of making two round-trips if needed every few weeks at least. Can I make all the away football games, and drive taxi to the endless junior high social calendar, feed a neighborhood full of kids at the house all the time and keep the cupboards full of snacks and the fridge of drinks? Can all the laundry be clean and my clients still be served? And can I do this on my own?
No, probably not. But which part has to go. I've been evaluating. It really doesn't have to go away if I share the work. I've spent a lifetime meeting people who do what I do, but I've met very few -- maybe five -- that I would hire, and most of them are so good they're as busy or busier than I. There are another two that I would consider partnering with. Maybe three. Am I ready to give up the lifestyle and drive to the city? Do we need to change the way we get everything done so that I can have someone share the burdens and responsibility?
Also on the white board I see, from that same day:
"New Ideas"
"Seize"
"Leverage"
The day I wrote those,I remember, it was if the words were going straight from somewhere else through my arm to my brain...What the?!?!?
For the last week, with this pretty amazing conversation and documentation in mind, I've been evaluating my activities with more clarity. I've gone back and asked for focus, and I have received some, but I have a lot to figure out myself, as well.
I have been focusing on my responsibilities and evaluating my time management based on everything -- ridiculousness of the endeavor, who can help me do it (or if I can do it myself), my lifestyle, including how much sleep I try to operate without, my not infrequent evening or weekend escapes into a glass of wine (that can become a few and there goes the productivity or the interest in making dinner) and my personal need for either stimulation, focus or perhaps even medication to keep me going on the productive path. (I am one of the few unmedicated people I know. Is that in itself a problem? What is God's perspective on medication?)
Yep. It's all under the microscope, and it came not from my own mind, but from some mysterious voice. Perhaps that voice is in my head, but I really don't think so.
Can you take me higher? Let's go there....let's go there...The song by Creed is one of my favorites. I understand it better now.
If you need help understanding this, please don't hesitate to ask. I think that's part of what I'm supposed to do, and what I'm doing in my actions every day. Under a new microscope. It's an interesting place. I feel very honored to be getting direction from someone other than myself. It's hard to rely on me all the time.
Obviously, if you've read this far you have to understand that all of the above has caused a pretty brutal personal examination for me and for my work and for my life. My brain actually hurts, and I've honestly only gotten through the first half of this one converation. That whole second part -- the seize, leverage, new ideas thing is still out there. By nature I am not competitive or aggressive. I like to be comfortable and have worried about little else. I have passed up some of the most amazing opportunities that have honest to God dealt with superstars and incredible worlds well beyond my own existence. I didn't seize then and probably should have. I need to prepare to seize now. Times are going to get tough, so it's time to win the game.
First I have to master this universe.
I think my goal this week is to identify sources of help. If you're reading this and you're one of those, don't hesitate to let me know.
If you're still here, remember, I warned you. This is personal.
I believe in God, and as such I pray. I took to reading the bible a few years ago, and I have learned a lot. At this point I know I have read the entire bible at least a couple of times in my life. I go to church in spurts. I've been in an off-spurt for about six months, maybe a year. Before that I was in an on-spurt for a year or so. That's sort of the longest on-spurt of my life, but it was significant.
Anyway, what I do know is that since I turned over all my troubles and concerns to God, I've been much more at peace. When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders and you're trying to make ends meet, achieve your client objectives to ensure continued business success, etc., it can be tough.
Before I gave my problems over to God I used to wake up in the middle of the night worried. I worried about whether a certain editor would write a story for a certain client. I worried about getting my work done and where the next work after it would come from. I worried about cashflow and paying my bills. I worried about my kids, their friends. I just worried. Things always seemed to work out, but I sure worked hard to make everything happen. Since I gave the worrying part over to God, it's a lot easier.
Now I focus on solving the problems, not worrying about them. I have more work than I can possibly do, with quality people who pay me when they say they will what they say they will. I didn't go find these people. Somehow they found me. Each and every one of them make my world somehow better. I help them promote their businesses and create awareness of their events and activities and I hope I make their lives better too.
They did not randomly find me. I asked for them in prayer, and they came. Call it coincidence, call it good karma, call it effective internet marketing and brandwidth...whatever you call it, it's happened.
What I do with what comes my way, I believe, determines what else I might be "eligible for." I am on a path to the next level. I want to achieve for my kids and for my own future. I don't have a lot of choice, so I have to just keep plowing ahead.
The other day when I was praying, I got a message. This has happened maybe twice in my life. (Or at least only twice when I've had ready access to pen and paper or that I've been paying attention to the idea of a RESPONSE to my prayer.) This particular day I was making breakfast and praying and being very positive, and I got these words. I wrote them on my white board in my office, because it was so clear it was like someone said it outloud. I didn't know what any of it meant, and it was coming so fast, I just stopped, went into the office and started writing. Here's what the words, still there, say:
"Do you see the ridiculousness of your endeavors?"
and
"One person can't do it all."
and
"Incongruous"
There's more, but that's a lot. So we'll start there.
That day, after I got the kids off to school I jumped back into my routine and ignored what I'd written on the board, a little, but it was definitely on my mind. I began to look for ridicuolousness and incongruity. Wow. Those are heavy, heavy, way heavy things. Who talks to you like that? I looked up incongruity, flipped it to the positive, and started evaluating my day based on the word "congruity." Pretty quickly, I found some, but not a lot. I saw opportunities for more.
I swiveled in my chair where back on the white board I'd written:
"Incongruity between your responsibilities and your lifestyle."
Wow. What does that mean? Which part of my lifestyle? Is it the "do everything for everyone while making enough money for the entire family" part? Hey, that fits with the previous thing: "One person can't do it all."
Other lifestyle issues: Hmmmm...this does get personal and although I never think about how my choices are "bad," but maybe they are. With all the work I have to do, do I really have time to go to the hockey rink four times a week, particularly when I have a spouse who is not incapable of making two round-trips if needed every few weeks at least. Can I make all the away football games, and drive taxi to the endless junior high social calendar, feed a neighborhood full of kids at the house all the time and keep the cupboards full of snacks and the fridge of drinks? Can all the laundry be clean and my clients still be served? And can I do this on my own?
No, probably not. But which part has to go. I've been evaluating. It really doesn't have to go away if I share the work. I've spent a lifetime meeting people who do what I do, but I've met very few -- maybe five -- that I would hire, and most of them are so good they're as busy or busier than I. There are another two that I would consider partnering with. Maybe three. Am I ready to give up the lifestyle and drive to the city? Do we need to change the way we get everything done so that I can have someone share the burdens and responsibility?
Also on the white board I see, from that same day:
"New Ideas"
"Seize"
"Leverage"
The day I wrote those,I remember, it was if the words were going straight from somewhere else through my arm to my brain...What the?!?!?
For the last week, with this pretty amazing conversation and documentation in mind, I've been evaluating my activities with more clarity. I've gone back and asked for focus, and I have received some, but I have a lot to figure out myself, as well.
I have been focusing on my responsibilities and evaluating my time management based on everything -- ridiculousness of the endeavor, who can help me do it (or if I can do it myself), my lifestyle, including how much sleep I try to operate without, my not infrequent evening or weekend escapes into a glass of wine (that can become a few and there goes the productivity or the interest in making dinner) and my personal need for either stimulation, focus or perhaps even medication to keep me going on the productive path. (I am one of the few unmedicated people I know. Is that in itself a problem? What is God's perspective on medication?)
Yep. It's all under the microscope, and it came not from my own mind, but from some mysterious voice. Perhaps that voice is in my head, but I really don't think so.
Can you take me higher? Let's go there....let's go there...The song by Creed is one of my favorites. I understand it better now.
If you need help understanding this, please don't hesitate to ask. I think that's part of what I'm supposed to do, and what I'm doing in my actions every day. Under a new microscope. It's an interesting place. I feel very honored to be getting direction from someone other than myself. It's hard to rely on me all the time.
Obviously, if you've read this far you have to understand that all of the above has caused a pretty brutal personal examination for me and for my work and for my life. My brain actually hurts, and I've honestly only gotten through the first half of this one converation. That whole second part -- the seize, leverage, new ideas thing is still out there. By nature I am not competitive or aggressive. I like to be comfortable and have worried about little else. I have passed up some of the most amazing opportunities that have honest to God dealt with superstars and incredible worlds well beyond my own existence. I didn't seize then and probably should have. I need to prepare to seize now. Times are going to get tough, so it's time to win the game.
First I have to master this universe.
I think my goal this week is to identify sources of help. If you're reading this and you're one of those, don't hesitate to let me know.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Far Worse than Ring Around the Collar
I grew up in the era when homemakers were proud women who took care of their families needs, cooked, cleaned, and made sure their husbands had delicious coffee to drink and "no dirty rings" around their shirt collars.
I remember my mom standing in our 1970s sunkin family room with the orange, black & brown shag carpet at the ironing board, ironing clothes while watching soap operas, the Watergate Hearings, and news, which when I was kid was a lot like an episode of G.I. Joe. Vietnam was raging, and every night on the news was like the opening of M.A.S.H., with helicopters whirring and young boys in fatigues running around.
My household is very different then that. My ironing board has never been in my living room, and in fact I have one that comes out of the wall in my laundry room, but I've never really used it. I send my husband's shirts to the dry cleaners or he takes care of them himself. I used to think I was pretty good at doing laundry, but after yesterday, I've decided differently.
In one fell swoop, yesterday I ruined my youngest son's entire "wardrobe." Fortunately that consists of t-shirts, but yesterday every one of his shirts ended up looking like something those guys on TV when I was a kid were wearing. Camo.
Now, how did I do that? Halloween actually did it to me. A week or two before Halloween the kids and the neighbor kids had been up in our attic digging around. They found my husband's hunting gear, which hasn't been used in at least 17 years, and adopted a pair of camo coveralls and the camo face paint for part of their Halloween festivities.
Sadly, the coveralls were in Dill's laundry, and the face paint was in the pocket of the coveralls, and I threw the whole mess in with about a dozen of his most favorite t-shirts and some other clothes. The best example of what happened is shown in the photo above.
Now I've been known to wash money, wallets, ipods, and telephones, because my children don't know how to clean out their pockets. If I'm picking laundry up off the bathroom floor, I rarely take the time to check all the pockets. You would think I would have learned, but I tend to be a slow learner when it comes to these types of chores.
Anyway, after four washings, the color still hasn't come out of most of the shirts. I plan to buy some of that OxiClean that guy screams about on TV to see if it will help, and if not, Dill will get a new "wardrobe" at Hollister this weekend.
Sometimes I wish times were different and I could focus solely on the chores of motherhood and wifedom. Instead, I have to make money every month to help keep this relatively crazy household afloat. Since I don't have what you might call a "real job," and haven't for more than a dozen years, I have to do that basically out of thin air every single month. To say that's pressure is an understatement. The fact that I'm even trying to do laundry at the same time should score me some points. But it doesn't. The kid with the ruined t-shirts (his favorites) gives me no points at all.
My neighbor who is almost 90 speaks of raising her kids and of the "help" she had. She had a full-time housekeeper and someone to tend to her four kids. She didn't work, but her husband was in the oil business and owned a company that did quite a bit of entertaining. Her job was the entertaining. She tells me that before he got home from work all the kids were scrubbed and clean, with combed hair. She had on a nice dress, make-up and pearls. Boy, is my house different than that.
When my husband gets home I'm usually still working. If it's a particularly busy day, it's quite possible I have on sweats and a make-up free face. If the kids are home, they certainly aren't scrubbed and clean either, and if it's toward the end of the week, it's rare that there are even groceries in the house, let alone dinner in the oven or on the table. The table is where the mail gets dumped, and where school books and backpacks and purses and other junk resides. I clean it off a couple times a week and we try to sit there and eat a few times every week, but most of the time we're running around to sports events, hockey practices, or I'm playing tennis. A lot of nights it's "fend for yourself" time with regard to food, or we're handing the kids money to go to town for pizza or burgers or Subway.
I gave up a while ago trying to be the perfect homemaker. Over the years I've been through spurts of having "help," and it was the best money I think I ever spent. I had a nanny when the boys were infants, and a sitter who spent the night when they were toddlers and pre-school age, back when I was in corporate and we had evening events to attend as part of my job. I have had cleaning ladies who kept my house looking spotless. But with the changes in the economy and the added expense of a son playing hockey, declining investments, and college looming on the horizon, I cut out a lot of the "extras" that I thought I could live without.
But after ruining my son's wardrobe yesterday and looking around my house, I think I need to reconsider. I need household help. I used to feel guilty being home, sitting at the computer while the cleaning ladies were working so hard, so I would leave and go work out. That made me feel even guiltier. But as I look at my mess of a house, and the ruined laundry, and the dirty dishes, I think I need to get some help once again.
Monday, October 20, 2008
How to be a hockey mom.
If you're looking for a political commentary, click away. This post is going to be a few dos and don'ts for real live hockey moms, in hopes that moms, dads, grandparents and any others involved in hockey or other sports may learn something.
Let me preface this post by saying I have not put a lot of thought into this, and I am certainly no expert. I've made my mistakes as a sports mom through the years. Perhaps there's something about hockey that attracts a specific breed. Or maybe it's the added stress the sport puts on your wallet, but a good hockey mom learns to manage that stress and deal with other issues, like when your kid doesn't get much ice time.
The number one rule of being a hockey mom: the MOM part, and the examples you set are WAY MORE important than the HOCKEY part. Here are a few specific dos and don'ts.
1. Ice time is not a birth right. It's something a hockey player earns. If you want your kid to have more ice time, it is YOUR responsibility to make sure he has the skills he needs. DO invest in plenty of practice time, camps, private lessons, whatever your kid needs. Otherwise, he will sit on the bench more than you'd like to see.
2. If you think your kid deserves more ice time, DON'T tell the coach he's stupid. That will not result in your son getting more ice time. Guaranteed.
3. DON'T leave it up to your teenage son to get to practice at 5:30 a.m. on his own. Get up and take him. If he shows up only every other time or shows up 15 minutes late or without a helmet or without all the equipment he needs, he's not going to get more ice time.
4. DO understand that although you can buy your way on to a team, there is no guarantee your kid will play as much as you want or even as much as the other kids on the team.
5. If you want your kid to play, DO take him to open hockey, drop-in hockey, private lessons, camps, spring training, buy him a net and a shooting pad, encourage him to practice. Support him by helping him get better. The better your kid is, the more time he'll play.
6. DO NOT isolate yourself from the other parents. If we don't know who you are, you don't bring your kid to practice or you don't come to the games, we can't tell you about all the opportunities for your son to get private lessons, open hockey, drop-in hockey, and more practice time, etc., etc.
7. DO come to practice. This is where you see exactly where your kid's skills stand up to other kids. It's where it becomes blindingly obvious whether or not your kid has what it takes or doesn't. If he doesn't, get him some more practice, camps, private lessons, put him on a second or even a third team to get the ice time. If you aren't willing to do some of this, or you really can't afford it, save your money and pull him off the ice altogether.
8. DON'T let your kid get involved in hockey unless you are ready to make some sacrifices yourself. Hockey is more than writing checks. It's spending time with your kid in the car on the way to practice, and before and after games. It's talking about what went right and wrong, about the other kids he's spending time with, about what camps, extra ice time, and additional practice he might need or about how much he's improved and how proud you are of him.
9. Hockey gives you great opportunities to talk about real life lessons like anger management, fairness, safety, nutrition, hygiene...even the importance of good grades. It's an opportunity to forge a bond with your kid that you will never regret. It's certainly worth a little lost sleep and the time it takes.
10. Finally, if you have something to say to the coach, do it in private. Do it calmly. Don't stand in the middle of the rink lobby and start pointing your finger and screaming. Calmly make an appointment to talk to the coach. Hockey coaches are great people. They know more about your kid and his ability to play hockey than you do. They don't mince words, they will tell you exactly why your kid doesn't get ice time. Coaches are about more than winning, they like to develop players. They like to see kids improve. Yelling at the coach won't buy your kid any favors.
That's it. I'm sure there's more. Like I said, I'm no expert. But in the four or five years I've been involved in hockey I've learned a few things. It can be a great sport, or it can be an agonizing sport. As with everything in life, you get out what you put in.
Let me preface this post by saying I have not put a lot of thought into this, and I am certainly no expert. I've made my mistakes as a sports mom through the years. Perhaps there's something about hockey that attracts a specific breed. Or maybe it's the added stress the sport puts on your wallet, but a good hockey mom learns to manage that stress and deal with other issues, like when your kid doesn't get much ice time.
The number one rule of being a hockey mom: the MOM part, and the examples you set are WAY MORE important than the HOCKEY part. Here are a few specific dos and don'ts.
1. Ice time is not a birth right. It's something a hockey player earns. If you want your kid to have more ice time, it is YOUR responsibility to make sure he has the skills he needs. DO invest in plenty of practice time, camps, private lessons, whatever your kid needs. Otherwise, he will sit on the bench more than you'd like to see.
2. If you think your kid deserves more ice time, DON'T tell the coach he's stupid. That will not result in your son getting more ice time. Guaranteed.
3. DON'T leave it up to your teenage son to get to practice at 5:30 a.m. on his own. Get up and take him. If he shows up only every other time or shows up 15 minutes late or without a helmet or without all the equipment he needs, he's not going to get more ice time.
4. DO understand that although you can buy your way on to a team, there is no guarantee your kid will play as much as you want or even as much as the other kids on the team.
5. If you want your kid to play, DO take him to open hockey, drop-in hockey, private lessons, camps, spring training, buy him a net and a shooting pad, encourage him to practice. Support him by helping him get better. The better your kid is, the more time he'll play.
6. DO NOT isolate yourself from the other parents. If we don't know who you are, you don't bring your kid to practice or you don't come to the games, we can't tell you about all the opportunities for your son to get private lessons, open hockey, drop-in hockey, and more practice time, etc., etc.
7. DO come to practice. This is where you see exactly where your kid's skills stand up to other kids. It's where it becomes blindingly obvious whether or not your kid has what it takes or doesn't. If he doesn't, get him some more practice, camps, private lessons, put him on a second or even a third team to get the ice time. If you aren't willing to do some of this, or you really can't afford it, save your money and pull him off the ice altogether.
8. DON'T let your kid get involved in hockey unless you are ready to make some sacrifices yourself. Hockey is more than writing checks. It's spending time with your kid in the car on the way to practice, and before and after games. It's talking about what went right and wrong, about the other kids he's spending time with, about what camps, extra ice time, and additional practice he might need or about how much he's improved and how proud you are of him.
9. Hockey gives you great opportunities to talk about real life lessons like anger management, fairness, safety, nutrition, hygiene...even the importance of good grades. It's an opportunity to forge a bond with your kid that you will never regret. It's certainly worth a little lost sleep and the time it takes.
10. Finally, if you have something to say to the coach, do it in private. Do it calmly. Don't stand in the middle of the rink lobby and start pointing your finger and screaming. Calmly make an appointment to talk to the coach. Hockey coaches are great people. They know more about your kid and his ability to play hockey than you do. They don't mince words, they will tell you exactly why your kid doesn't get ice time. Coaches are about more than winning, they like to develop players. They like to see kids improve. Yelling at the coach won't buy your kid any favors.
That's it. I'm sure there's more. Like I said, I'm no expert. But in the four or five years I've been involved in hockey I've learned a few things. It can be a great sport, or it can be an agonizing sport. As with everything in life, you get out what you put in.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
"Kids do the darndest things." (No wonder all my stuff needs repair.)
My kids recently made the mistake of leaving some of their home videos on my camera. When I went to download a couple of photos, I found some interesting things. This was something they apparently thought would make it on YouTube. They never got a chance. Instead, they were banned from using the golf cart (for a while). As my husband says, "Boys will be boys." My suggestion to them is to delete the evidence. It's not good when Mom sees stuff like this.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
"Hey, Mom, we killed a snake in your office!"
I've lived in Texas for nearly ten years. Before I moved here, we had a going away party, and a client of mine brought a date who just went on and on about how she hated Texas because of the snakes.
She told stories of them climbing through the air conditioning ducts, and I'll admit she had me a bit freaked out. So one of the first things I did with my boys (who were little guys of 4 and 7 at the time) was make an education lesson out of an early trip to the Tyler Zoo. We went in the reptile house and learned everything we needed to know about snakes in Texas. (Basically what I learned was that if their head is shaped like an arrow, it IS poisonous.) Most snakes in Texas, I learned, were not poisonous, although some can grow to a relatively large size, and they all freak me out.
That visit to the reptile house aside, over the years, I have had very few encounters with snakes. My kids, by nature of being boys running around near a lake, and at friend's homes in the country, have seen more snakes than I. But we lived on the lake for eight years, and in that time I think we had one tiny snake in our breezeway, one (maybe two) tiny snakes in our swimming pool, and one or two instances where I saw a BIG snake in the lake or on our beach. I would say that's a fairly low snake siting incidence for that many years.
I got home from somewhere on Sunday to find out that my oldest son and his friend had killed a snake. Not in a field near our house. Not somewhere in the woods on the golf course. They had killed a snake IN MY OFFICE.
Now I wasn't home, thank goodness, but my husband insists that this particular snake probably took up residence last week when I had the door to my office wide open. There was a great breeze last Thursday, and I was having a meeting here, and I had opened the door to let the breezes and the sunshine flow freely in. I did not invite that snake. If the snake came in on Thursday, that means it was in here with me on Friday when I was working. I was in and out of the office a little on Saturday, with the snake, and then on Sunday my son came out to play the drums or lift weights or who knows what, and stepped on it.
Fortunately, my son's friend, our next door neighbor, was here, and he knew just what to do. He went to the kitchen to the knife block, grabbed a cleaver, came back to the office, and chopped the snake's head off. I am so glad I was not here, and I'm so glad I've never used (and will never use) that cleaver.
Now before you get this horrible picture in your head (like I did), understand that this snake was maybe 10 inches long and skinny. But it had fangs, and my husband said the mouth was still moving up and down when he picked up the head, but what shape the head was, I do not know. The boys were all to happy to kill it. Cleaning it up responsibilities went to my spouse. I'm just glad it happened on a weekend, because I did not have to see it or clean it up.
Anyway, now while I'm writing news releases and optimizing web copy, and conferencing with clients, I'm also looking over my shoulder. I often go outside to get some air and to proofread, and now I'm looking for snakes before I even take my first step out. It's a little freaky. I have a small foot stool under my desk where I keep my feet now -- up off the floor. I know snakes can slither up the legs of anything, but in case there was more than one...in case that little guy had a brother or sister, or heaven forbid a whole nest of brothers and sisters, I've got my eyes peeled.
I'm not sure why I'm sharing it. I guess it's on my mind. I don't think they deal with this sort of thing in corporate America, do they?
She told stories of them climbing through the air conditioning ducts, and I'll admit she had me a bit freaked out. So one of the first things I did with my boys (who were little guys of 4 and 7 at the time) was make an education lesson out of an early trip to the Tyler Zoo. We went in the reptile house and learned everything we needed to know about snakes in Texas. (Basically what I learned was that if their head is shaped like an arrow, it IS poisonous.) Most snakes in Texas, I learned, were not poisonous, although some can grow to a relatively large size, and they all freak me out.
That visit to the reptile house aside, over the years, I have had very few encounters with snakes. My kids, by nature of being boys running around near a lake, and at friend's homes in the country, have seen more snakes than I. But we lived on the lake for eight years, and in that time I think we had one tiny snake in our breezeway, one (maybe two) tiny snakes in our swimming pool, and one or two instances where I saw a BIG snake in the lake or on our beach. I would say that's a fairly low snake siting incidence for that many years.
I got home from somewhere on Sunday to find out that my oldest son and his friend had killed a snake. Not in a field near our house. Not somewhere in the woods on the golf course. They had killed a snake IN MY OFFICE.
Now I wasn't home, thank goodness, but my husband insists that this particular snake probably took up residence last week when I had the door to my office wide open. There was a great breeze last Thursday, and I was having a meeting here, and I had opened the door to let the breezes and the sunshine flow freely in. I did not invite that snake. If the snake came in on Thursday, that means it was in here with me on Friday when I was working. I was in and out of the office a little on Saturday, with the snake, and then on Sunday my son came out to play the drums or lift weights or who knows what, and stepped on it.
Fortunately, my son's friend, our next door neighbor, was here, and he knew just what to do. He went to the kitchen to the knife block, grabbed a cleaver, came back to the office, and chopped the snake's head off. I am so glad I was not here, and I'm so glad I've never used (and will never use) that cleaver.
Now before you get this horrible picture in your head (like I did), understand that this snake was maybe 10 inches long and skinny. But it had fangs, and my husband said the mouth was still moving up and down when he picked up the head, but what shape the head was, I do not know. The boys were all to happy to kill it. Cleaning it up responsibilities went to my spouse. I'm just glad it happened on a weekend, because I did not have to see it or clean it up.
Anyway, now while I'm writing news releases and optimizing web copy, and conferencing with clients, I'm also looking over my shoulder. I often go outside to get some air and to proofread, and now I'm looking for snakes before I even take my first step out. It's a little freaky. I have a small foot stool under my desk where I keep my feet now -- up off the floor. I know snakes can slither up the legs of anything, but in case there was more than one...in case that little guy had a brother or sister, or heaven forbid a whole nest of brothers and sisters, I've got my eyes peeled.
I'm not sure why I'm sharing it. I guess it's on my mind. I don't think they deal with this sort of thing in corporate America, do they?
Monday, September 29, 2008
Congrats Horizon Data Center Solutions
Once in a while I like to share something about one of my clients. Today's story is about Horizon Data Center Solutions.
HDCS operates a 25,000 square foot state-of-the-art data center that is based in Dallas. In their world, what that means is they are big. Big, big. The gentlemen behind this operation are leaders in their field, and they are motivated, service oriented, and smart.
Last week we put out a news release about their "stellar" growth, and it's been picked up in their industry very respectably. The client seems almost surprised by this first success, and I have to smile, because I know clients, and with these guys, this is just the start. They have a lot more great things to talk about and a lot more opportunities to share their news. Horizon is a new client that I will enjoy working with.
Here's why: PR gets a bad rap on occasion and has somehow been associated with not telling the truth or with making up stories. We've all heard the phrase, "Give it the PR spin." But the role of a publicist and the real goal of PR is to provide journalists with access to interesting stories that their readers will care about. You do that on either a very selective or a mass distribution basis.
A good client for me understands that they can't have press releases that sound like sales sheets or ads. They understand that if they are willing to give numbers (a $70 million lease, 300% growth, plan to add two data centers in the next six months...in Horizon's case) that's a story. If everything is secret or shrouded by a corporate veil, or they don't have "permission" to talk about it...there is no story. Then the PR person has nothing to deliver, and journalists will not be interested in being the conduit for the fluff. Not to mention that if you're a publicist your reputation is at stake every time you send something out. If you send schlock just to appease a client, the good stuff you send out may not get looked at either. You can quickly get locked out.
Back in 1987 -- a long time ago when I was a public relations coordinator at a national association I went to a conference, and one speaker was the Public Relations VP from BASF or some gigantic company. I remember him saying something shocking and exciting at the same time. He said, "If you are forced to write a release that is not news, do yourself a favor and once it's approved, throw it out. Don't send it." This resonated with me because at the time half my time was being spent on news that wasn't news, or that wasn't going to do anyone any good. It was what today they would call "vanity PR," "So and so has written an article entitled blah, blah, blah.."
Of course this was in the days before we had email, when we would xerox, fold, stuff and stamp press releases and physically mail them, often with pictures of people, products, and events. PR departments had big trays full of mail. We had labels, and stamps, and everything went through the mail room. It was hard to "dump a tray" and not send out a release, but I do think I may have done that once or twice. In the long run, it was better for my employer and for me.
Today I avoid that problem by telling my clients that we not only have to have a story, we have to have a really good story, something worthy of an impactful headline that is keyword rich and SEO-friendly. We also need a combination of custom distribution and targeted pitching and national wire service or paid placement. That's just the way it works today. We also need an understanding of timing and opportunities and goals and objectives -- not just the clients, but the media target timing, opportunities, goals and objectives. It's a science with a creative execution, and I like that.
So welcome Horizon Data Center Solutions to the OutreachPR portfolio of clients. We certainly hope you'll continue to be pleasantly surprised at the results we can achieve. PR really does work. You just have to have the right person handling it for you, and she has to have the right clients. When that happens, it's a good combination.
HDCS operates a 25,000 square foot state-of-the-art data center that is based in Dallas. In their world, what that means is they are big. Big, big. The gentlemen behind this operation are leaders in their field, and they are motivated, service oriented, and smart.
Last week we put out a news release about their "stellar" growth, and it's been picked up in their industry very respectably. The client seems almost surprised by this first success, and I have to smile, because I know clients, and with these guys, this is just the start. They have a lot more great things to talk about and a lot more opportunities to share their news. Horizon is a new client that I will enjoy working with.
Here's why: PR gets a bad rap on occasion and has somehow been associated with not telling the truth or with making up stories. We've all heard the phrase, "Give it the PR spin." But the role of a publicist and the real goal of PR is to provide journalists with access to interesting stories that their readers will care about. You do that on either a very selective or a mass distribution basis.
A good client for me understands that they can't have press releases that sound like sales sheets or ads. They understand that if they are willing to give numbers (a $70 million lease, 300% growth, plan to add two data centers in the next six months...in Horizon's case) that's a story. If everything is secret or shrouded by a corporate veil, or they don't have "permission" to talk about it...there is no story. Then the PR person has nothing to deliver, and journalists will not be interested in being the conduit for the fluff. Not to mention that if you're a publicist your reputation is at stake every time you send something out. If you send schlock just to appease a client, the good stuff you send out may not get looked at either. You can quickly get locked out.
Back in 1987 -- a long time ago when I was a public relations coordinator at a national association I went to a conference, and one speaker was the Public Relations VP from BASF or some gigantic company. I remember him saying something shocking and exciting at the same time. He said, "If you are forced to write a release that is not news, do yourself a favor and once it's approved, throw it out. Don't send it." This resonated with me because at the time half my time was being spent on news that wasn't news, or that wasn't going to do anyone any good. It was what today they would call "vanity PR," "So and so has written an article entitled blah, blah, blah.."
Of course this was in the days before we had email, when we would xerox, fold, stuff and stamp press releases and physically mail them, often with pictures of people, products, and events. PR departments had big trays full of mail. We had labels, and stamps, and everything went through the mail room. It was hard to "dump a tray" and not send out a release, but I do think I may have done that once or twice. In the long run, it was better for my employer and for me.
Today I avoid that problem by telling my clients that we not only have to have a story, we have to have a really good story, something worthy of an impactful headline that is keyword rich and SEO-friendly. We also need a combination of custom distribution and targeted pitching and national wire service or paid placement. That's just the way it works today. We also need an understanding of timing and opportunities and goals and objectives -- not just the clients, but the media target timing, opportunities, goals and objectives. It's a science with a creative execution, and I like that.
So welcome Horizon Data Center Solutions to the OutreachPR portfolio of clients. We certainly hope you'll continue to be pleasantly surprised at the results we can achieve. PR really does work. You just have to have the right person handling it for you, and she has to have the right clients. When that happens, it's a good combination.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Proud Moments
I don't want to brag, and I know it's not polite, but I am excited to report that my son Dylan is running for class president of the first 8th grade class at the new Mabank Junior High.
The election is next Monday and there are all sorts of rules about what the candidates must do, can't do, as well as what the job, if you are elected, of class president entails. I had to read about six pages of information and sign off on this effort, which it turns out does involve a little work.
What you must understand is that Dylan is not the type of kid you would imagine would run for president. His vice president, his best friend Jeremy, probably is. When Dylan told me about this in his "oh by the way" way on Sunday night, and handed me the packet to sign, I was pretty shocked. Especially because there are a lot of candidates, and almost all his friends have paired up in teams. They are all running against each other. They are into it. This is pretty cool. They might actually LEARN something that won't be on "the test!"
After reading into the packet of rules and requirements, I noticed the part about the three posters needed on Monday. (It was after 10 on Sunday night.) "Who's making your posters?" (they need three). "Jeremy," Dylan said. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you realize you have to make a speech?" "Yes." "What are you going to say?" "I don't know." The publicist and campaign manager in me began to get nervous. We only have a week my subconscious worried as it quickly compiled some good key messages, while my wiser "this is your kid not your client" side took charge.
Wise Mom stifled my concerns and I went to bed Sunday night proud, and at the same time wondering if Dylan had any idea what he was getting himself into. My subconscious started working on a tagline or campaign slogan... and worrying about the work that was to be done...
At 7 a.m. on Monday my phone rang. It was Jeremy's mom, who I must say, like me, is an over-achiever. As president of the local bank, she's one smart cookie, as is her son, my son's running mate, who also is a kid I've known since they were both four. Dylan was already at football. "Jeremy is sick, and I have this poster here," she said. "But we didn't read the information until late last night and we only have one done." The campaign manager in me took over. "That's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it." We arranged for me to pick up the one poster at the bank , and I would take it to the school for Dylan. Of course the publicist in me and the "detail gal" was concerned about the lack of posters, and because this is an agency and I have all the "stuff," I spent a little time after doing some work and made a second poster for Dylan and Jeremy. I had the stuff to make another one, but I had real work to do too. I drove to the bank, delivered the posters to the junior high, and got back to work.
The kids' first campaign meeting was held after school, and Dylan came home last night very excited about the campaign process, what they could do, etc. It was good to see his enthusiasm. Later his friend Stephen came over. Stephen is running as the VP on another ticket. We jointly discussed strategy, and I listened for any insight I could about what he and his running mate were doing. Stephen had gone to the dentist and missed the meeting, so he didn't know what their posters were like, what they were planning to do, nothing. He may have been faking ignorance -- a good strategy. I made a mental note to pick his brain the next day.
Last night around 9:30 Dylan came into my office. "Mom, can we make me a t-shirt and some buttons?" The designer in me -- the one who gets excited about "rush" jobs sprang into action, and because this is an agency, I had all the stuff. So we designed a logo, made a transfer, and ironed it on a t-shirt that he had found in his dad's closet. We also made some buttons using the laminating machine, and some stickers. It was nearly midnight when we went to bed.
Of course this morning he wasn't happy with how big the shirt we had made is, so he found another one in his closet, we quickly printed another transfer and made him a new shirt. Oh my God, what a prima donna...candidates...they are all the same. He wore his new shirt to school today, and although the transfer is not as crisp as the one on the big shirt, it's okay for 8th grade. He'll get the campaign started.
So it's only Day 2 of the campaign, and the election is next Monday. I have no idea how much more time this is going to take. There's still the speech and the election process itself. There is the campaigning ("Give the stickers to the 7th grade girls and smile at them real nice and ask for their vote," I told him this morning. "Focusing on the 7th graders takes care of the problem caused by all your friends running and splitting the vote," I pointed out.
There is still the debate for You Tube, and maybe a web site. But for the most part, his work is done. Best of all they really could ALL learn something.
Of course I'm going to continue to stay out of it. I have no intention of getting involved. This is not my project. It's my son's.
The election is next Monday and there are all sorts of rules about what the candidates must do, can't do, as well as what the job, if you are elected, of class president entails. I had to read about six pages of information and sign off on this effort, which it turns out does involve a little work.
What you must understand is that Dylan is not the type of kid you would imagine would run for president. His vice president, his best friend Jeremy, probably is. When Dylan told me about this in his "oh by the way" way on Sunday night, and handed me the packet to sign, I was pretty shocked. Especially because there are a lot of candidates, and almost all his friends have paired up in teams. They are all running against each other. They are into it. This is pretty cool. They might actually LEARN something that won't be on "the test!"
After reading into the packet of rules and requirements, I noticed the part about the three posters needed on Monday. (It was after 10 on Sunday night.) "Who's making your posters?" (they need three). "Jeremy," Dylan said. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you realize you have to make a speech?" "Yes." "What are you going to say?" "I don't know." The publicist and campaign manager in me began to get nervous. We only have a week my subconscious worried as it quickly compiled some good key messages, while my wiser "this is your kid not your client" side took charge.
Wise Mom stifled my concerns and I went to bed Sunday night proud, and at the same time wondering if Dylan had any idea what he was getting himself into. My subconscious started working on a tagline or campaign slogan... and worrying about the work that was to be done...
At 7 a.m. on Monday my phone rang. It was Jeremy's mom, who I must say, like me, is an over-achiever. As president of the local bank, she's one smart cookie, as is her son, my son's running mate, who also is a kid I've known since they were both four. Dylan was already at football. "Jeremy is sick, and I have this poster here," she said. "But we didn't read the information until late last night and we only have one done." The campaign manager in me took over. "That's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it." We arranged for me to pick up the one poster at the bank , and I would take it to the school for Dylan. Of course the publicist in me and the "detail gal" was concerned about the lack of posters, and because this is an agency and I have all the "stuff," I spent a little time after doing some work and made a second poster for Dylan and Jeremy. I had the stuff to make another one, but I had real work to do too. I drove to the bank, delivered the posters to the junior high, and got back to work.
The kids' first campaign meeting was held after school, and Dylan came home last night very excited about the campaign process, what they could do, etc. It was good to see his enthusiasm. Later his friend Stephen came over. Stephen is running as the VP on another ticket. We jointly discussed strategy, and I listened for any insight I could about what he and his running mate were doing. Stephen had gone to the dentist and missed the meeting, so he didn't know what their posters were like, what they were planning to do, nothing. He may have been faking ignorance -- a good strategy. I made a mental note to pick his brain the next day.
Last night around 9:30 Dylan came into my office. "Mom, can we make me a t-shirt and some buttons?" The designer in me -- the one who gets excited about "rush" jobs sprang into action, and because this is an agency, I had all the stuff. So we designed a logo, made a transfer, and ironed it on a t-shirt that he had found in his dad's closet. We also made some buttons using the laminating machine, and some stickers. It was nearly midnight when we went to bed.
Of course this morning he wasn't happy with how big the shirt we had made is, so he found another one in his closet, we quickly printed another transfer and made him a new shirt. Oh my God, what a prima donna...candidates...they are all the same. He wore his new shirt to school today, and although the transfer is not as crisp as the one on the big shirt, it's okay for 8th grade. He'll get the campaign started.
So it's only Day 2 of the campaign, and the election is next Monday. I have no idea how much more time this is going to take. There's still the speech and the election process itself. There is the campaigning ("Give the stickers to the 7th grade girls and smile at them real nice and ask for their vote," I told him this morning. "Focusing on the 7th graders takes care of the problem caused by all your friends running and splitting the vote," I pointed out.
There is still the debate for You Tube, and maybe a web site. But for the most part, his work is done. Best of all they really could ALL learn something.
Of course I'm going to continue to stay out of it. I have no intention of getting involved. This is not my project. It's my son's.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A Little Goes a Long Way
This morning I received the first annual report for a project my friend and colleague first told me about last year. It is a micro-loan program for widows in Burundi, Africa, one of the poorest places in the world.
I had read about providing what amounts to venture capital for people in developing nations, and I have received the "gifts" at Christmas that say, "Your gift is our donation to XYZ which purchased two goats for refugees in Estonia," and I've always thought, "What a great idea." So when my friend asked me to be a part of his Widows and Orphans Ministry program and the micro-loan effort, I said, "Sure."
The report I got today listed five pages of women who had borrowed anywhere from $26 to $172 to help them fund their efforts to support their families with everything from "Planting and selling corn and beans" to "Buying a cow to sell milk." The venture was started with just a little bit of seed money from half a dozen associates of my colleague. But the seed money he got from a few friends has turned into an enterprise that has been able to self fund itself as the women who borrow the money pay it back -- with interest -- a whopping ten percent, I might add.
So when Claudine Kwizera borrowed $73 to start selling telephone cards, and she repaid over time $80, her extra $7 went into the kitty for the next needy widow. This self-sustaining fund has already dispersed more than $4300 (a king's ransom in Burundi) of which $3700 has already been paid back and another $1800 still exists for the women who apply for the loans on the next application date. I don't get the math exactly, but I do get the point. This pay it forward sort of system is working in Burundi. Almost 100 women over the last year created and are running their own successful small business operations in order to feed and clothe their children and as part of their quest for a better life.
The small check I sent was a small price to pay to be a part of this effort. I'll do it again in a heartbeat. To know that Macurata Ciza is planting cabbage and Valerie Ntandiburintuntu is selling rice, and their kids are no longer hungry and these women are no longer charity cases feels very good.
If you feel drawn to give, go to www.iamhereforyou.com.
I had read about providing what amounts to venture capital for people in developing nations, and I have received the "gifts" at Christmas that say, "Your gift is our donation to XYZ which purchased two goats for refugees in Estonia," and I've always thought, "What a great idea." So when my friend asked me to be a part of his Widows and Orphans Ministry program and the micro-loan effort, I said, "Sure."
The report I got today listed five pages of women who had borrowed anywhere from $26 to $172 to help them fund their efforts to support their families with everything from "Planting and selling corn and beans" to "Buying a cow to sell milk." The venture was started with just a little bit of seed money from half a dozen associates of my colleague. But the seed money he got from a few friends has turned into an enterprise that has been able to self fund itself as the women who borrow the money pay it back -- with interest -- a whopping ten percent, I might add.
So when Claudine Kwizera borrowed $73 to start selling telephone cards, and she repaid over time $80, her extra $7 went into the kitty for the next needy widow. This self-sustaining fund has already dispersed more than $4300 (a king's ransom in Burundi) of which $3700 has already been paid back and another $1800 still exists for the women who apply for the loans on the next application date. I don't get the math exactly, but I do get the point. This pay it forward sort of system is working in Burundi. Almost 100 women over the last year created and are running their own successful small business operations in order to feed and clothe their children and as part of their quest for a better life.
The small check I sent was a small price to pay to be a part of this effort. I'll do it again in a heartbeat. To know that Macurata Ciza is planting cabbage and Valerie Ntandiburintuntu is selling rice, and their kids are no longer hungry and these women are no longer charity cases feels very good.
If you feel drawn to give, go to www.iamhereforyou.com.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Ike
I don't think I've ever been through a tropical storm, thank God. But I guess I'm about to.
Ike is barreling down on Texas, and you wouldn't dream it by looking outside. It's very calm. Almost eerily so. But Ike is coming. Unless something dramatic happens over night, he's on his way.
My friend from Florida called me today. She's been in Florida for 24 years, and she has weathered a few storms. She wanted to make sure I was prepared. Of course I was not. Still am not. At least I know I'm not prepared. But she freaked me out a bit, in a good way. She put me into action.
I emailed friends and colleagues in Houston and offered them refuge from the eye at my house. I don't know if anyone will respond. They are probably already gone if they are leaving. Traffic is going to be miserable. All lanes headed out of town in Houston -- probably eight lanes of bumper to bumper headed north.
Our church started welcoming evacuees today. My mother's domino club had to be moved. That's why I know.
I have a feeling if these people get here today, they are going to want to stay. It's a gorgeous day. We're headed out in a few minutes to a football game. Our son (who broke his finger in practice Tuesday) may or may not play. I prefer not. I don't particularly like football. That's neither here nor there nor the subject of this post, but the point is, it's nice out right now.
But Jennifer said the wind is going to blow and the rain is going to come. The news says six to 12 inches. That could be nothing to two feet, who knows? I'm sort of excited. I guess life in a small town is getting to me. Things like this excite me. I'm hoping we'll have house guests. That would be exciting for me.
Of course all this said, I have a ton of work to do. People outside of this area don't realize what could be going on here over the next 72 hours. It could be pretty crazy. They still need their stuff done.
Stay tuned. Maybe I'll post video during the storm. I have some from when Jean came through a week after Katrina. That was a big one too. But not as big as Ike.
Ike, I'm not ready yet, my mom says get cash and a full tank of gas. I just need food that doesn't have to be microwaved, some flashlights, some batteries, and some drinks. I have a good book I want to read (The Shack, you have to read it). We'll keep the kids close.
All this light hearted excitement aside, my good friend Ana told me today that her aunt died during the hurricane (this same one, Ike) in Cuba. Yesterday I guess. It's very sad. Nothing is on the news about that. The infrastructure of Cuba is fragile at best. There is a terrible story to be told there....but say a prayer for Ana and her family. This is the second aunt who died this week. The other of natural causes here in Texas, but it's been a rough week. Pray for the people of Galveston. They just might lose everything in the next couple of days. And pray for me, that it doesn't hit Kemp, Texas, because I have way too much to do because today I've been preoccupied with the hurricane.
Help your neighbors, friends! Take a hike, Ike!
Ike is barreling down on Texas, and you wouldn't dream it by looking outside. It's very calm. Almost eerily so. But Ike is coming. Unless something dramatic happens over night, he's on his way.
My friend from Florida called me today. She's been in Florida for 24 years, and she has weathered a few storms. She wanted to make sure I was prepared. Of course I was not. Still am not. At least I know I'm not prepared. But she freaked me out a bit, in a good way. She put me into action.
I emailed friends and colleagues in Houston and offered them refuge from the eye at my house. I don't know if anyone will respond. They are probably already gone if they are leaving. Traffic is going to be miserable. All lanes headed out of town in Houston -- probably eight lanes of bumper to bumper headed north.
Our church started welcoming evacuees today. My mother's domino club had to be moved. That's why I know.
I have a feeling if these people get here today, they are going to want to stay. It's a gorgeous day. We're headed out in a few minutes to a football game. Our son (who broke his finger in practice Tuesday) may or may not play. I prefer not. I don't particularly like football. That's neither here nor there nor the subject of this post, but the point is, it's nice out right now.
But Jennifer said the wind is going to blow and the rain is going to come. The news says six to 12 inches. That could be nothing to two feet, who knows? I'm sort of excited. I guess life in a small town is getting to me. Things like this excite me. I'm hoping we'll have house guests. That would be exciting for me.
Of course all this said, I have a ton of work to do. People outside of this area don't realize what could be going on here over the next 72 hours. It could be pretty crazy. They still need their stuff done.
Stay tuned. Maybe I'll post video during the storm. I have some from when Jean came through a week after Katrina. That was a big one too. But not as big as Ike.
Ike, I'm not ready yet, my mom says get cash and a full tank of gas. I just need food that doesn't have to be microwaved, some flashlights, some batteries, and some drinks. I have a good book I want to read (The Shack, you have to read it). We'll keep the kids close.
All this light hearted excitement aside, my good friend Ana told me today that her aunt died during the hurricane (this same one, Ike) in Cuba. Yesterday I guess. It's very sad. Nothing is on the news about that. The infrastructure of Cuba is fragile at best. There is a terrible story to be told there....but say a prayer for Ana and her family. This is the second aunt who died this week. The other of natural causes here in Texas, but it's been a rough week. Pray for the people of Galveston. They just might lose everything in the next couple of days. And pray for me, that it doesn't hit Kemp, Texas, because I have way too much to do because today I've been preoccupied with the hurricane.
Help your neighbors, friends! Take a hike, Ike!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Really Big Shift
Since the Olympics there really isn't anything on TV. The Rangers aren't winning. Hockey hasn't started. The hurricane wasn't the ratings boost the networks had hoped for, although I saw some previews of some coming storms, and it looks pretty promising. (What's wrong with this picture?) TV-wise, I couldn't get excited about the convention in Denver. I wanted to see Bill Clinton, didn't care to see his wife, can't get excited about Obama. I was feeling let down. But last night I just happened to flop down on the couch after tennis in time to watch Sarah Palin.
I was one of the few Americans who had done more than what the media would have us believe McCain's people did, and I read her "Official Governor of Alaska" website. If you got past the relatively amateurish and borderline "folksy" nature of it, there was some good stuff in there. She has a record of telling Washington to "butt out" of Alaska business, then she's managed to turn around another day and make a valid case for why beluga whales did not need to be on the endangered species list, or she'd ask for some "ballsy" big numbers -- hundreds of millions of dollars -- for her state to develop their energy infrastructure. And she got what she asked for. She's been good for Alaska.
And based on seeing her last night, I think she's a lady who speaks her mind. And she's good at it. She carries a gun, and I don't think I'd mess with her. Secret service will have a really hard time keeping up with this lady.
I didn't want to like her. I wanted to hate her, but I have been so disenfranchised and so "independent" for so long...and between my research and the speech last night, she just might do it for me. I think she could be just what this country needs. And not just one of her. If she gets in office, there will be a lot of new jobs in Washington. A lot of "speak her mind 40-something women" will have access to good jobs, and for the first time in the history of the United States of America: some real power.
Girl Power. Middle aged, good looking, smart, not afraid to speak your mind women. I'm all for it. Get the Mom's of Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, National Guard, Reserve, Coast Guard, etc., etc., and the Mom's of special needs children, and the mothers of kids who messed up by society's norms, the condom broke, now's there another baby, we'll deal with it I love you situations. Bring those people to Washington with their pain and suffering and their experiences, and put a real voice in America. Change really could happen.
I admit. The "Hockey Mom's for Palin" signs probably helped at least endear me to her. They were far too crude though -- does Minneapolis not have a Kinkos or Fast Signs? I think she knew what she was talking about. Washington as we know it will be blown wide open. There will be jobs for smart, networked people in government. This could be cool.
I don't like to discuss politics, but I am a bit astonished at my own enthusiasm for once. I think this lady is about results. She knows how to get things done. She will take things down a big notch "stuff shirt, politics, politics, bullshit, bullshit" in Washington. I think the Vice President is in there with the Congress and the Senate and has some authority. I think this lady can kick some ass.
Overseas people will like her because her family will have some drama and it's like the first time in years that we'll even know how many kids the vice president has, their names, what they do. I can even see a reality show on Bravo. This could be really fun.
For the first time last night I watched a speech and didn't feel like a jaded publicist looking for all the orchestration. There was no ear piece. She didn't fumble any words. I think she probably wrote that speech herself. I'm an independent, and if she went after my vote, she just might have gotten it.
Things she said resonated with me. She knows energy. She has an environmental bent. She's pro-family. She's not perfect.
I have been swayed. I don't typically vote Republican, but I haven't liked Obama since he beat out Hillary, who I liked only for her husband, who is my all-time favorite president. I met him at a fundraiser for Governor Roy Romer in a United airlines hangar back at the old Stapleton Airport in Denver. He was simply presidential. Impressive. Handsome. Tall. I met Mr. Obama at a restaurant on the Navy Pier in Chicago during the last election year. He was running for senate, and I had my picture taken with him. I wasn't impressed. I think I could have pushed him over size wise. He was young, and although exceedingly polite, not presidential -- ambassadorish, perhaps, but not presidential. My brother-in-law unfortunately deleted the photo. It made us look like best friends, so I'm so bummed, but he and my husband both will vouch that the photo once existed and we met Mr. Obama before he was Mr. Anybody. Come to think of it, I think I'd like to meet Sarah Palin.
One last thought. Don't you think this is going to be good for foreign relations? Do you think a bunch of Arab terrorists are going to want to take on a country all of a sudden empowered by pre-menopausal and menopausal women? Mothers? WORKING Mothers? If Sadaam Hussein was still alive he'd be quaking in his boots.
I can't believe it. I haven't been this happy since the democrats took ahold of the senate. Or since the Avs won the Stanley Cup.
The only thing better than this is if we'd get McCain to step aside and become a cabinet guy, and let Sarah Palin run for president. We could get Angelina Jolie-Pitt to run for VP. Madonna could be secretary of state. Brad could hang with Sarah's husband and they could go to Yankees games with Madonna. Politics would merge with People magazine and truly hit the American populace.
I'm so psyched. This is going to be water-cooler worthy. I think it's going to make cigars in the hallway look like child's play. We're going to have parties at the White House and the Palin kids charming Washington. CSPAN might actually become interesting. It's going to be interesting to watch this fall out. What would Tim Russert have said? What is Hollywood going to do? I'm so happy there will finally be something to watch on TV.
I was one of the few Americans who had done more than what the media would have us believe McCain's people did, and I read her "Official Governor of Alaska" website. If you got past the relatively amateurish and borderline "folksy" nature of it, there was some good stuff in there. She has a record of telling Washington to "butt out" of Alaska business, then she's managed to turn around another day and make a valid case for why beluga whales did not need to be on the endangered species list, or she'd ask for some "ballsy" big numbers -- hundreds of millions of dollars -- for her state to develop their energy infrastructure. And she got what she asked for. She's been good for Alaska.
And based on seeing her last night, I think she's a lady who speaks her mind. And she's good at it. She carries a gun, and I don't think I'd mess with her. Secret service will have a really hard time keeping up with this lady.
I didn't want to like her. I wanted to hate her, but I have been so disenfranchised and so "independent" for so long...and between my research and the speech last night, she just might do it for me. I think she could be just what this country needs. And not just one of her. If she gets in office, there will be a lot of new jobs in Washington. A lot of "speak her mind 40-something women" will have access to good jobs, and for the first time in the history of the United States of America: some real power.
Girl Power. Middle aged, good looking, smart, not afraid to speak your mind women. I'm all for it. Get the Mom's of Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, National Guard, Reserve, Coast Guard, etc., etc., and the Mom's of special needs children, and the mothers of kids who messed up by society's norms, the condom broke, now's there another baby, we'll deal with it I love you situations. Bring those people to Washington with their pain and suffering and their experiences, and put a real voice in America. Change really could happen.
I admit. The "Hockey Mom's for Palin" signs probably helped at least endear me to her. They were far too crude though -- does Minneapolis not have a Kinkos or Fast Signs? I think she knew what she was talking about. Washington as we know it will be blown wide open. There will be jobs for smart, networked people in government. This could be cool.
I don't like to discuss politics, but I am a bit astonished at my own enthusiasm for once. I think this lady is about results. She knows how to get things done. She will take things down a big notch "stuff shirt, politics, politics, bullshit, bullshit" in Washington. I think the Vice President is in there with the Congress and the Senate and has some authority. I think this lady can kick some ass.
Overseas people will like her because her family will have some drama and it's like the first time in years that we'll even know how many kids the vice president has, their names, what they do. I can even see a reality show on Bravo. This could be really fun.
For the first time last night I watched a speech and didn't feel like a jaded publicist looking for all the orchestration. There was no ear piece. She didn't fumble any words. I think she probably wrote that speech herself. I'm an independent, and if she went after my vote, she just might have gotten it.
Things she said resonated with me. She knows energy. She has an environmental bent. She's pro-family. She's not perfect.
I have been swayed. I don't typically vote Republican, but I haven't liked Obama since he beat out Hillary, who I liked only for her husband, who is my all-time favorite president. I met him at a fundraiser for Governor Roy Romer in a United airlines hangar back at the old Stapleton Airport in Denver. He was simply presidential. Impressive. Handsome. Tall. I met Mr. Obama at a restaurant on the Navy Pier in Chicago during the last election year. He was running for senate, and I had my picture taken with him. I wasn't impressed. I think I could have pushed him over size wise. He was young, and although exceedingly polite, not presidential -- ambassadorish, perhaps, but not presidential. My brother-in-law unfortunately deleted the photo. It made us look like best friends, so I'm so bummed, but he and my husband both will vouch that the photo once existed and we met Mr. Obama before he was Mr. Anybody. Come to think of it, I think I'd like to meet Sarah Palin.
One last thought. Don't you think this is going to be good for foreign relations? Do you think a bunch of Arab terrorists are going to want to take on a country all of a sudden empowered by pre-menopausal and menopausal women? Mothers? WORKING Mothers? If Sadaam Hussein was still alive he'd be quaking in his boots.
I can't believe it. I haven't been this happy since the democrats took ahold of the senate. Or since the Avs won the Stanley Cup.
The only thing better than this is if we'd get McCain to step aside and become a cabinet guy, and let Sarah Palin run for president. We could get Angelina Jolie-Pitt to run for VP. Madonna could be secretary of state. Brad could hang with Sarah's husband and they could go to Yankees games with Madonna. Politics would merge with People magazine and truly hit the American populace.
I'm so psyched. This is going to be water-cooler worthy. I think it's going to make cigars in the hallway look like child's play. We're going to have parties at the White House and the Palin kids charming Washington. CSPAN might actually become interesting. It's going to be interesting to watch this fall out. What would Tim Russert have said? What is Hollywood going to do? I'm so happy there will finally be something to watch on TV.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Support Team Meb and NineMillion.org
OutreachPR has GREAT CLIENTS. This is something we did today:
Team Meb to Compete with Conviction in Nike+ Human Race
Raising Money for NineMillion.org is Personal Quest for Running Team
LOS ANGELES – August 28, 2008 – This month the world watched as athletes from nations around the globe united in competitive spirit in one amazing city: Beijing. On August 31, that spirit continues with the Nike+ Human Race, the world’s largest sporting event, which will feature 10K races in 25 cities around the globe.
In Los Angeles, one group of family members, friends and fans of U.S. Olympic Silver Medalist and marathoner Meb Keflezighi, will unite with professional runners, including Nike athletes Khadevis Robinson and Jon Rankin, and world class runner Jacques Sallberg, to run the race and raise money and awareness for NineMillion.org, the United Nation’s program that supports refugee children around the world with access to education and sports.
Team Meb has a unique tie to the noble causes of NineMillion.org. Their team name sake and running inspiration, Meb Keflezighi, who also remains the reigning U.S. record holder in the 10k with an astonishing 27:13:98, not only supports the cause vigorously, but he lived it, as did his brother, Hawi Keflezighi, owner of HAWI Management, which manages both Rankin and Sallberg.
Meb, Hawi, and four other siblings began their lives caught in the midst of a brutal 30-year war between their homeland of Eritrea and Ethiopia. Fearing for their lives, the family fled Eritrea as refugees, spending time in Europe before arriving in the United States.
It was in California where Meb began his meteoric rise to running fame. While overcoming language barriers to achieve superior status as a student, he also astounded his coaches with his speed. Meb went on to win an unprecedented full-ride scholarship to UCLA in track, where he was a four time NCAA champion. In 2004, he won the Silver Medal at the Olympics in Athens, despite being ranked only 39th in the field.
From Belgium where he is preparing to run the 5k at the Flanders Cup on August 30, and the 10k in the Golden League Memorial Van Damme on September 5, Meb said, “The efforts of Team Meb have exposed thousands of people to the work of NineMillion.org, and already more than 125 people have joined the team to raise money for a cause that is so important to nine million refugee children around the world. I am with them in spirit and so happy for their commitment to this cause.”
Donations can be made to NineMillion.org in support of Team Meb online by visiting http://www.ninemillionspacesdonations.org/. Visit http://www.ninemillion.org/ for a first hand look at the work being done by the program by watching the video on the home page. The video features Meb Keflezighi as spokesperson, part of his role as an active supporter of the program.
For more information, visit http://www.hawisports.com/ and click on the Events section of the website to learn more about Team Meb. -end-
TEAM MEB
About Team Meb
The official Meb Keflezighi website is located at http://www.runmeb.com/.
Meb is proudly sponsored by Nike (http://www.nike.com/) and Power Bar (www.powerbar.com)
More about NineMillion.org, a UN agency for refugee children, is at http://www.ninemillion.org/
Khadevis Robinson is a premier U.S. men’s 800m runner who finished fourth in the 2008 U.S. Olympic Trials. His website is at http://www.khadevis.com/
Professional runner Jon Rankin is a world class miler and Nike athlete. Read more about him at www.hawisports.com/jon.html
Jacques Sallberg is a worldclass steeple chaser and member of Team USA. Read about him at www.hawisports.com/jacques.html
Merhawi Keflezighi is the owner of HAWI Management, a professional sports management company based in Los Angeles. Hawi, like his brother Meb, was a refugee as a child, who grew up with a focus on education. He holds a law degree from the UCLA School of Law and is passionate about managing athletes to reach their full potential. Visit http://www.hawisports.com/ for more information.
Team Meb to Compete with Conviction in Nike+ Human Race
Raising Money for NineMillion.org is Personal Quest for Running Team
LOS ANGELES – August 28, 2008 – This month the world watched as athletes from nations around the globe united in competitive spirit in one amazing city: Beijing. On August 31, that spirit continues with the Nike+ Human Race, the world’s largest sporting event, which will feature 10K races in 25 cities around the globe.
In Los Angeles, one group of family members, friends and fans of U.S. Olympic Silver Medalist and marathoner Meb Keflezighi, will unite with professional runners, including Nike athletes Khadevis Robinson and Jon Rankin, and world class runner Jacques Sallberg, to run the race and raise money and awareness for NineMillion.org, the United Nation’s program that supports refugee children around the world with access to education and sports.
Team Meb has a unique tie to the noble causes of NineMillion.org. Their team name sake and running inspiration, Meb Keflezighi, who also remains the reigning U.S. record holder in the 10k with an astonishing 27:13:98, not only supports the cause vigorously, but he lived it, as did his brother, Hawi Keflezighi, owner of HAWI Management, which manages both Rankin and Sallberg.
Meb, Hawi, and four other siblings began their lives caught in the midst of a brutal 30-year war between their homeland of Eritrea and Ethiopia. Fearing for their lives, the family fled Eritrea as refugees, spending time in Europe before arriving in the United States.
It was in California where Meb began his meteoric rise to running fame. While overcoming language barriers to achieve superior status as a student, he also astounded his coaches with his speed. Meb went on to win an unprecedented full-ride scholarship to UCLA in track, where he was a four time NCAA champion. In 2004, he won the Silver Medal at the Olympics in Athens, despite being ranked only 39th in the field.
From Belgium where he is preparing to run the 5k at the Flanders Cup on August 30, and the 10k in the Golden League Memorial Van Damme on September 5, Meb said, “The efforts of Team Meb have exposed thousands of people to the work of NineMillion.org, and already more than 125 people have joined the team to raise money for a cause that is so important to nine million refugee children around the world. I am with them in spirit and so happy for their commitment to this cause.”
Donations can be made to NineMillion.org in support of Team Meb online by visiting http://www.ninemillionspacesdonations.org/. Visit http://www.ninemillion.org/ for a first hand look at the work being done by the program by watching the video on the home page. The video features Meb Keflezighi as spokesperson, part of his role as an active supporter of the program.
For more information, visit http://www.hawisports.com/ and click on the Events section of the website to learn more about Team Meb. -end-
TEAM MEB
About Team Meb
The official Meb Keflezighi website is located at http://www.runmeb.com/.
Meb is proudly sponsored by Nike (http://www.nike.com/) and Power Bar (www.powerbar.com)
More about NineMillion.org, a UN agency for refugee children, is at http://www.ninemillion.org/
Khadevis Robinson is a premier U.S. men’s 800m runner who finished fourth in the 2008 U.S. Olympic Trials. His website is at http://www.khadevis.com/
Professional runner Jon Rankin is a world class miler and Nike athlete. Read more about him at www.hawisports.com/jon.html
Jacques Sallberg is a worldclass steeple chaser and member of Team USA. Read about him at www.hawisports.com/jacques.html
Merhawi Keflezighi is the owner of HAWI Management, a professional sports management company based in Los Angeles. Hawi, like his brother Meb, was a refugee as a child, who grew up with a focus on education. He holds a law degree from the UCLA School of Law and is passionate about managing athletes to reach their full potential. Visit http://www.hawisports.com/ for more information.
Life is Precious
I played tennis last night with my teacher friends. The mood was a bit somber, as a local boy had been killed in a car wreck earlier in the day. I can't seem to get this out of my mind, and all I can think about is "What a precious life cut short," and "OH HOW HIS FAMILY MUST BE FEELING."
Apparently he was on his way to Athens, about 15 minutes from here, to register for community college at Trinity Valley. He just graduated from Mabank High this year.
This boy was apparently passing a car on the highway and had a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. That highway is a pain, there are only a few places you can pass, and there are many blind spots where you just can't or shouldn't. Traffic tends to move relatively slow, there is construction going on, so if you're going to Athens you have to give yourself time. It can be a slow drive. We can't know why he passed a car or what he was thinking. I only know that I had it ingrained in me during a driver's safety course that "There is no place you have to be so important that it's worth risking your life over."
Accidents happen. Misjudgments, especially by the young, happen. But the consequences can be devastating.
The life of a handsome, vibrant 19 year old boy -- a young man with a whole life ahead of him -- was cut short yesterday, and a whole town grieves. Please say a prayer for the family of Wade Holt. Then tell your kids you love them and to BE CAREFUL.
Apparently he was on his way to Athens, about 15 minutes from here, to register for community college at Trinity Valley. He just graduated from Mabank High this year.
This boy was apparently passing a car on the highway and had a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. That highway is a pain, there are only a few places you can pass, and there are many blind spots where you just can't or shouldn't. Traffic tends to move relatively slow, there is construction going on, so if you're going to Athens you have to give yourself time. It can be a slow drive. We can't know why he passed a car or what he was thinking. I only know that I had it ingrained in me during a driver's safety course that "There is no place you have to be so important that it's worth risking your life over."
Accidents happen. Misjudgments, especially by the young, happen. But the consequences can be devastating.
The life of a handsome, vibrant 19 year old boy -- a young man with a whole life ahead of him -- was cut short yesterday, and a whole town grieves. Please say a prayer for the family of Wade Holt. Then tell your kids you love them and to BE CAREFUL.
Monday, August 25, 2008
A "private" post for my husband of 24 years.
Happy Anniversary, Mark. On August 25, 1984, we had a lovely 5 p.m. wedding ceremony, and I got to be princess for a day. You were my prince. We had a great time. And boy were we young. This picture (scroll down) was at the start of our married life together and the start of 15 years in Colorado and nearly ten in Texas. Happy 'versary.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A P.S.
I decided today after returning from another day in the city that one of the things I enjoy about back to school is the shopping.
Son number one and I hit the mall today, and it was good.
As the only woman in the family, I get to take charge of back to school and Christmas shopping. I'm the family expert. I like to spend money. And I'm good at it. Last week I took care of son number two, and today was time for number one.
The mall is a good experience twice a year. Since I went last weekend too, I've had my fill until the holidays.
For Nike tennis shoes, nothing beats Foot Locker. Apparently that's something everyone knows, because everyone was there. There were about ten guys in ref shirts working the floor, and doing a good job, getting shoes for people, two and three boxes at a time. We waited quite a while to get the shoes we had requested, and my son suggested we leave at one point. But I was into the vibe and in a good mood and in no hurry. It took a long time, but at the same time, it was an experience. The music was different, the people were different. Everyone had a posse just hanging out, and everyone was patient. The line to pay was incredibly long. But it was orderly, and no one made any trouble. Even me. I waited in line for 15 minutes and bought Nikes made in Vietnam for probably six dollars for 20 times that much. But they are cool, and my son is happy.
I enjoyed the Foot Locker experience. I'm into people watching and listening. This mall is an urban suburban mall. It was a microcosm of America. A melting pot. And today I stood in line at Foot Locker and melted.
P.S.S. I'm just a little down on the retail trend showcased at Hollister Co. It is too dark in those stores. I already have trouble seeing, and then they put me in the dark to buy clothes for my kids? And forget trying things on. The line was nuts. It would be a fire hazzard. I've been in three different stores and they are all the same. It's hard to see what you're buying. Fortunately it's just basic tshirts and polos. And the kids have to have it. At least it's cheap. But I hope this craze ends soon. And where's the fire marshall?
Son number one and I hit the mall today, and it was good.
As the only woman in the family, I get to take charge of back to school and Christmas shopping. I'm the family expert. I like to spend money. And I'm good at it. Last week I took care of son number two, and today was time for number one.
The mall is a good experience twice a year. Since I went last weekend too, I've had my fill until the holidays.
For Nike tennis shoes, nothing beats Foot Locker. Apparently that's something everyone knows, because everyone was there. There were about ten guys in ref shirts working the floor, and doing a good job, getting shoes for people, two and three boxes at a time. We waited quite a while to get the shoes we had requested, and my son suggested we leave at one point. But I was into the vibe and in a good mood and in no hurry. It took a long time, but at the same time, it was an experience. The music was different, the people were different. Everyone had a posse just hanging out, and everyone was patient. The line to pay was incredibly long. But it was orderly, and no one made any trouble. Even me. I waited in line for 15 minutes and bought Nikes made in Vietnam for probably six dollars for 20 times that much. But they are cool, and my son is happy.
I enjoyed the Foot Locker experience. I'm into people watching and listening. This mall is an urban suburban mall. It was a microcosm of America. A melting pot. And today I stood in line at Foot Locker and melted.
P.S.S. I'm just a little down on the retail trend showcased at Hollister Co. It is too dark in those stores. I already have trouble seeing, and then they put me in the dark to buy clothes for my kids? And forget trying things on. The line was nuts. It would be a fire hazzard. I've been in three different stores and they are all the same. It's hard to see what you're buying. Fortunately it's just basic tshirts and polos. And the kids have to have it. At least it's cheap. But I hope this craze ends soon. And where's the fire marshall?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Back to School
At the risk of being trite, and with the challenge of not being boring, it's that time of year for reflection.
Some people reflect at the end of the year, but for me "the year" always seems to begin fresh with the start of school.
I went to graduate school until and even after my kids were born, so except for a few short years in my early 20s and a few more between MBA and kindergarten, school and "back to school" have been a part of my life forever.
Monday is the start of school. We've had a nice long summer, and as the weather breaks and the rain falls gently, I know everyone is ready for a fresh start.
Back to school means back to schedules. Because I'm self-employed and work from my home, summer is a time when, if I choose, I can wake early, go to work early, and literally have five or even six hours in before one of my kids comes in to my office, rumpled and sleepy, and says, "Good morning, Mom." then "What's for breakfast?"
Once the "What's for breakfast?" starts, family responsibilities kick in and my focus has to shift. Once school starts, and breakfast comes early, the nature of my entire day shifts. I might get in a check of email and the completion of one or two things early, but breakfast, and football practice, and last minute scrambles for homework and permission slips and the search for a pen or that favorite clean shirt begins, and work just isn't happening until "a little later."
By necessity, when school starts, my work day starts and ends later. Sometimes much later.
But there is good in all things, and part of this schedule shift means I actually will be more accessible to clients on the other side of the world. I have two great clients in Australia right now. Their tomorrow morning starts in the late afternoon Texas time. (Don't think about it too hard.) On my summer schedule, that time of day rolls around and I'm wiped out, often having been at work for eleven or twelve hours (off and on) by that time. When school starts, that will correct itself.
So despite my distaste for schedules, back to school is a good thing. In far more ways than one.
Although I love having the kids around and we've been in a good groove this summer, everyone is ready for a change.
Amazingly, my kids seem to have burned out on video games. One son's xbox broke, and this, formerly a cause for major concern and panic, has allowed him to do other things, like play the guitar six hours a day. Now, before you say, "how quaint," please know that, although we do live in Texas, country strumming on a six string is not what's coming from his room. He's a rock guitarist with an amp, and there's no folkabilly, "easy listening to write by" stuff going on. That's not to say that what he's playing isn't good or catchy or even entertaining. He likes 80s rock -- good old Lynyrd Skynyrd and Black Sabbath, as well as alternative rock, and lately, television theme songs (next time you see "King of the Hill," think of me). There are enough doors between us that I can almost tune it out, but on days when he's learning something new, it can be trying. But persistence pays off. Six hours of guitar playing a day can make a kid pretty darn good. I'm not complaining.
My other son informed me the other day that he had put his game system up a week or back. "It's in my drawer," he said. I'm not playing it. Since his isn't broken, I'm not sure how long this will last, but he's filled his time with work, baseball and ESPN on TV, running around in the golf cart, and MySpace. I would call it a shift in the right direction.
School also means curfews and bed times and alarm clocks. It means dinner at a decent hour (not 9 p.m. after convenience store snacks have run out and Mom's back from tennis or Dad's done in the garage). It's the start of a new year.
I'm ready. We've done the back to school shopping. With boys, it's easy. I go to the mall, to stores they've specified, take cell phone pictures of t-shirts, mail them in for approval, then buy them. Sizing can be difficult, but this year I hit the mark. Dylan is happy with his five new shirts and football tote. I went 2 for 3 on Tanner, and we're hoping for "less scratchiness after washing" on one shirt. Both boys will need shoes -- usually an expensive venture, so always a last minute, lest their feet grow AGAIN, shopping trip. Yep, we're just about ready for back to school.
I'm ready for my fresh start, and I thank God for another really enjoyable summer.
Back to work!
Some people reflect at the end of the year, but for me "the year" always seems to begin fresh with the start of school.
I went to graduate school until and even after my kids were born, so except for a few short years in my early 20s and a few more between MBA and kindergarten, school and "back to school" have been a part of my life forever.
Monday is the start of school. We've had a nice long summer, and as the weather breaks and the rain falls gently, I know everyone is ready for a fresh start.
Back to school means back to schedules. Because I'm self-employed and work from my home, summer is a time when, if I choose, I can wake early, go to work early, and literally have five or even six hours in before one of my kids comes in to my office, rumpled and sleepy, and says, "Good morning, Mom." then "What's for breakfast?"
Once the "What's for breakfast?" starts, family responsibilities kick in and my focus has to shift. Once school starts, and breakfast comes early, the nature of my entire day shifts. I might get in a check of email and the completion of one or two things early, but breakfast, and football practice, and last minute scrambles for homework and permission slips and the search for a pen or that favorite clean shirt begins, and work just isn't happening until "a little later."
By necessity, when school starts, my work day starts and ends later. Sometimes much later.
But there is good in all things, and part of this schedule shift means I actually will be more accessible to clients on the other side of the world. I have two great clients in Australia right now. Their tomorrow morning starts in the late afternoon Texas time. (Don't think about it too hard.) On my summer schedule, that time of day rolls around and I'm wiped out, often having been at work for eleven or twelve hours (off and on) by that time. When school starts, that will correct itself.
So despite my distaste for schedules, back to school is a good thing. In far more ways than one.
Although I love having the kids around and we've been in a good groove this summer, everyone is ready for a change.
Amazingly, my kids seem to have burned out on video games. One son's xbox broke, and this, formerly a cause for major concern and panic, has allowed him to do other things, like play the guitar six hours a day. Now, before you say, "how quaint," please know that, although we do live in Texas, country strumming on a six string is not what's coming from his room. He's a rock guitarist with an amp, and there's no folkabilly, "easy listening to write by" stuff going on. That's not to say that what he's playing isn't good or catchy or even entertaining. He likes 80s rock -- good old Lynyrd Skynyrd and Black Sabbath, as well as alternative rock, and lately, television theme songs (next time you see "King of the Hill," think of me). There are enough doors between us that I can almost tune it out, but on days when he's learning something new, it can be trying. But persistence pays off. Six hours of guitar playing a day can make a kid pretty darn good. I'm not complaining.
My other son informed me the other day that he had put his game system up a week or back. "It's in my drawer," he said. I'm not playing it. Since his isn't broken, I'm not sure how long this will last, but he's filled his time with work, baseball and ESPN on TV, running around in the golf cart, and MySpace. I would call it a shift in the right direction.
School also means curfews and bed times and alarm clocks. It means dinner at a decent hour (not 9 p.m. after convenience store snacks have run out and Mom's back from tennis or Dad's done in the garage). It's the start of a new year.
I'm ready. We've done the back to school shopping. With boys, it's easy. I go to the mall, to stores they've specified, take cell phone pictures of t-shirts, mail them in for approval, then buy them. Sizing can be difficult, but this year I hit the mark. Dylan is happy with his five new shirts and football tote. I went 2 for 3 on Tanner, and we're hoping for "less scratchiness after washing" on one shirt. Both boys will need shoes -- usually an expensive venture, so always a last minute, lest their feet grow AGAIN, shopping trip. Yep, we're just about ready for back to school.
I'm ready for my fresh start, and I thank God for another really enjoyable summer.
Back to work!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Humbled by Their Grace
If you've read my blog for any length of time you know that I get asked by friends to work for them (for "free") on a regular basis. Most of the time, I oblige, because I enjoy what I do, and the truth is I ALWAYS get something out of it.
Last week I was invited to dine with my neighbors two doors down. We attend the same church (well, they attend, I sort of "pre" tend lately), and our church recently sponsored a mission to the House of Hope, an orphanage for children of the Miskito Indians in Honduras.
There was no pretense in our dinner plans. My neighbor asked if I would write an article for the newspaper about their trip. She had been persuaded by our pastor, another friend of mine for whom I have done some advertising, to call me.
So despite the fact that my husband wrecked his car on the way home from work and was absolutely in no mood to socialize, I convinced him the wine would do him good, and we headed two doors down to dine with our neighbors. We took along my 89 year old best friend, Muriel, who I thought would enjoy the discussion.
The evening literally blew me away.
Ten people from our church went on this trip. The mission was to complete construction on a volunteer house where visitors like them could stay on future trips. The orphanage itself houses more than 30 children. Most have medical concerns born of malnutrition. Many have been to the states (to Dallas) for medical treatment, some are planning to come. The orphanage is run by a woman named Katrina who went to Honduras 20 years ago and never looked back. The work she does there is amazing.
Unlike orphanages in other countries, the children in this one are not adoptable. They are a protected class that cannot be adopted outside of their tribe, and yet most have been abandoned by their families due to their inability to care for them. It's an irony that is hard to understand, but it is simply the rule.
Our church got involved last year, after being introduced to the orphanage by Dr. John Loar, who happens to be our dentist. Dr. Loar was introduced by a dentist in Allen, Texas, who had been traveling to Honduras providing dental care for years. Last fall our pastor challenged our church to plan ahead to donate to the orphanage at Christmas. He suggested that we all match what we spend on our families with a check to the mission. On Christmas Eve, a collection was taken, and our congregation ponied up more than $38,000. Now we're not a mega church. This is a small church in a small town in Texas. Our normal Christmas eve offering is $600. The giving alone was a miracle.
Our neighbors -- a couple and their 18 year old son -- joined with 7 others, including three more teens, to make this trip. They drove to Houston, flew to Honduras, then flew from there in a small plane to an isolated area known unaffectionately as the Cocaine Coast. It's an area full of drug trade, poverty, and neglect.
For seven days this family and the other volunteers played and prayed with the children, mingled with the locals, and completed construction, not only on the volunteer house, but on a soccer field for the kids. Before and after dinner, Kristen and Rick shared with us a slide show of photos and told stories about their activities while there. They also shared stories about the beautiful children shown in each picture. It was an incredibly moving evening, with a story I look forward to sharing. To say that Mark and Muriel and I were moved goes without saying. In fact I came home wanting to go to Honduras. It's something I plan to do as early as next year.
My point in mentioning this here is mostly to light a fire under myself to write the story I agreed to write. It's also to remind everyone who reads this that there are people in the world living much more meager lives than ourselves. And yet they are people who have God in their lives, who smile beautifully, and who appreciate every tiny little thing that they have.
While my kids get $200 hockey sticks and $400 guitars, these children are thankful for a soccer ball that will hold some air. While my friends get bi-weekly pedicures and lunch at the club, women in Honduras walk five miles for a can of milk at the orphanage's milk bank to feed their weak and often dying infants.
Despite this, the children at the House of Hope are happy. The people in this country are happy. They have faith, love, and the support of those much more fortunate who make sure they have the clothing, school supplies, medical care and food they need -- not to propser, but to survive.
While we whine about gas prices to fill our big SUVs and the cost of a gallon of milk that we buy pasturized and cold at well-stocked store, others are happy for a simple blanket to call their own. I need to write this story, because it needs to be told. And once again, I'm not doing it for free. The lessons I learned and am internalizing just from hearing the story and seeing the photos at my neighbors' home was priceless. I look forward to sharing it with you.
Last week I was invited to dine with my neighbors two doors down. We attend the same church (well, they attend, I sort of "pre" tend lately), and our church recently sponsored a mission to the House of Hope, an orphanage for children of the Miskito Indians in Honduras.
There was no pretense in our dinner plans. My neighbor asked if I would write an article for the newspaper about their trip. She had been persuaded by our pastor, another friend of mine for whom I have done some advertising, to call me.
So despite the fact that my husband wrecked his car on the way home from work and was absolutely in no mood to socialize, I convinced him the wine would do him good, and we headed two doors down to dine with our neighbors. We took along my 89 year old best friend, Muriel, who I thought would enjoy the discussion.
The evening literally blew me away.
Ten people from our church went on this trip. The mission was to complete construction on a volunteer house where visitors like them could stay on future trips. The orphanage itself houses more than 30 children. Most have medical concerns born of malnutrition. Many have been to the states (to Dallas) for medical treatment, some are planning to come. The orphanage is run by a woman named Katrina who went to Honduras 20 years ago and never looked back. The work she does there is amazing.
Unlike orphanages in other countries, the children in this one are not adoptable. They are a protected class that cannot be adopted outside of their tribe, and yet most have been abandoned by their families due to their inability to care for them. It's an irony that is hard to understand, but it is simply the rule.
Our church got involved last year, after being introduced to the orphanage by Dr. John Loar, who happens to be our dentist. Dr. Loar was introduced by a dentist in Allen, Texas, who had been traveling to Honduras providing dental care for years. Last fall our pastor challenged our church to plan ahead to donate to the orphanage at Christmas. He suggested that we all match what we spend on our families with a check to the mission. On Christmas Eve, a collection was taken, and our congregation ponied up more than $38,000. Now we're not a mega church. This is a small church in a small town in Texas. Our normal Christmas eve offering is $600. The giving alone was a miracle.
Our neighbors -- a couple and their 18 year old son -- joined with 7 others, including three more teens, to make this trip. They drove to Houston, flew to Honduras, then flew from there in a small plane to an isolated area known unaffectionately as the Cocaine Coast. It's an area full of drug trade, poverty, and neglect.
For seven days this family and the other volunteers played and prayed with the children, mingled with the locals, and completed construction, not only on the volunteer house, but on a soccer field for the kids. Before and after dinner, Kristen and Rick shared with us a slide show of photos and told stories about their activities while there. They also shared stories about the beautiful children shown in each picture. It was an incredibly moving evening, with a story I look forward to sharing. To say that Mark and Muriel and I were moved goes without saying. In fact I came home wanting to go to Honduras. It's something I plan to do as early as next year.
My point in mentioning this here is mostly to light a fire under myself to write the story I agreed to write. It's also to remind everyone who reads this that there are people in the world living much more meager lives than ourselves. And yet they are people who have God in their lives, who smile beautifully, and who appreciate every tiny little thing that they have.
While my kids get $200 hockey sticks and $400 guitars, these children are thankful for a soccer ball that will hold some air. While my friends get bi-weekly pedicures and lunch at the club, women in Honduras walk five miles for a can of milk at the orphanage's milk bank to feed their weak and often dying infants.
Despite this, the children at the House of Hope are happy. The people in this country are happy. They have faith, love, and the support of those much more fortunate who make sure they have the clothing, school supplies, medical care and food they need -- not to propser, but to survive.
While we whine about gas prices to fill our big SUVs and the cost of a gallon of milk that we buy pasturized and cold at well-stocked store, others are happy for a simple blanket to call their own. I need to write this story, because it needs to be told. And once again, I'm not doing it for free. The lessons I learned and am internalizing just from hearing the story and seeing the photos at my neighbors' home was priceless. I look forward to sharing it with you.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Class Reunions
Every ten years everyone who graduated from high school owes it to themselves to go to their class reunion.
We just returned from my spouses, and we had a great time. Now being the spouse of the person who is attending the reunion can be a drag, but in our case we went to the same high school, I was a sophomore when these guys were seniors, so I had no trouble at all having conversations with dozens of people I had known as a kid.
Since my husband and I are from the same town, we grew up doing the same things, from different elementary and junior high schools, and we didn't know each other until he was in college, really, but we do share that same home town experience. So did 100 other people in the room with us at his class reunion.
I have to tell you, there is something SO COMFORTABLE about conversing with people who are the same age and are from the same town and who experienced the same high school experiences as you did. It's always interesting to hear the different perspectives that they have from that time, and to hear about where they are now.
Reunion events have changed through our experiences going back. The earlist reunion - 10 years - was well-organized, well attended, included a tour of the high school, a golf tournament, a casual mixer, and a formal banquet with lots of dancing. We stayed up all night with friends, had breakfast at Perkins together and caught a 7 a.m. flight back to Denver. That was fun.
We weren't even sure we had been to Mark's 20th reunion, but he was in the picture they had displayed this year, so I guess we were there. That reunion was probably the most elegant, fairly expensive, and not as well attended. There was a formal banquet, slide show from the past, and dancing to music from the 70s. Everyone had kids and people were slightly more pretentious than they'd been in their 20s. We don't remember it very well, and I don't remember it as being really fun.
So when the time came to go to the 30th reunion, Mark decided he didn't want to go. He decided early. And he didn't undecide and decide to go until the weekend before the party. But we went. And I'm so glad we did.
This was the most casual of the reunions. We're all old. Some look just like they did in high school (my husband included) and they look good. You know those girls had been dieting for six months and it showed. They looked great. I don't think guys do that. But I think some get new clothes and did take an interest in putting their best foot forward. No pretentiousness. It was literally come as you are. Maybe 25% of the class was there. The ones there had fun. Lots of beer flowed, apple wine made at a classmate's winery flowed, food from a classmates Italian restaurant, including pies (what they apparently call pizza in Iowa now) enmasse. Very casual, very nice, very fun.
But where was everyone else? If 75% of the class doesn't show up...
Sadly, 5% are no longer living. That's a staggering number to me. 21 people. All under 50. The pictures were all there on the wall at both parties. Participants in the festivities who were missed and honored. Cancer, accidents, drugs, booze. Gone. There are more every decade. Several of those pictured surprised us. It is very sad.
But still, 70% didn't come. Why not?
It could be that the high cost of travel kept the 116 out of staters from attending. Whenever we asked "Where's So-So" the answer was "Florida," or "Buffalo," or "Austin." There had been three foreign exchange students in the class, and they weren't there, but there was a really nice photo from the yearbook and a poster with an e-mail from a girl from Japan. She wrote that she hoped people from the class would e-mail her. I hope they took pictures of her picture with them and sent them to her. She was a part of the festivities. Not a lot of people knew her, but she was missed.
Organizers told us there are 190 classmates still in the town, another 110 somewhere in the state (and Iowa is a small state). That accounts for most of the people there, but even if that's 60 people, where were the other 240 that live within easy driving distance in the town or state? Why didn't they come? I'm sure a certain percent, let's say 10% are "missing" with bad addresses or some reason why they can't be found. There are still lots more people who aren't there.
Could it be the ones who got picked on in high school didn't come? Could it be the ones that really wanted to come but had weddings or family event or vacations planned at the same time? Were there people who couldn't afford to come? The whole weekend cost something like $35. When coupled with a tank of gas is that asking too much? Maybe.
I don't know why the people didn't come. Maybe the ones who don't party and don't condone drinking don't come because they expect people to be loud and obnoxious. It was loud, but I didn't see anyone being obnoxious. And there's no smoking in Iowa, so that wasn't an issue. I don't think that anyone who didn't drink should have been offended by the environment. It was very pleasant and congenial. So why didn't they come?
Well, whatever the reason, they missed a good party, and had they come, they would have been welcomed and would have talked to people they possibly didn't even know 30 years ago. I know I did. And my husband did. Everyone was nice. Everyone was proud of their kids and had great stories to share. Some were divorced. None spoke of that with glee. But everyone laughed., or at least smiled. A lot. We ate well. We learned a lot about each other. A table full of us spouses even solved the world's energy crisis with our discussions while the classmates were out having their photos taken. It was interesting. A reunion of like souls, a concentrated demographic all in one place. It was a fascinating focus group.
Funny thing, it wasn't even my class. It was just a lot of nice people who went with a great attitude to see who would show up. If you didn't show up, you were missed. I wish people thought about that before they chose to not attend.
So go to your class reunion. If you don't show up, you will be missed. It's not that scary. Sure, we were nervous, but there wasn't any real reason to be. Go to your class reunion. You don't have to stay long if it's a bust, but I can practically guarantee it will be good for at least a few laughs. It's a fellowship that only comes around half a dozen times in your life. Take advantage of it. That's my advice for the day.
We just returned from my spouses, and we had a great time. Now being the spouse of the person who is attending the reunion can be a drag, but in our case we went to the same high school, I was a sophomore when these guys were seniors, so I had no trouble at all having conversations with dozens of people I had known as a kid.
Since my husband and I are from the same town, we grew up doing the same things, from different elementary and junior high schools, and we didn't know each other until he was in college, really, but we do share that same home town experience. So did 100 other people in the room with us at his class reunion.
I have to tell you, there is something SO COMFORTABLE about conversing with people who are the same age and are from the same town and who experienced the same high school experiences as you did. It's always interesting to hear the different perspectives that they have from that time, and to hear about where they are now.
Reunion events have changed through our experiences going back. The earlist reunion - 10 years - was well-organized, well attended, included a tour of the high school, a golf tournament, a casual mixer, and a formal banquet with lots of dancing. We stayed up all night with friends, had breakfast at Perkins together and caught a 7 a.m. flight back to Denver. That was fun.
We weren't even sure we had been to Mark's 20th reunion, but he was in the picture they had displayed this year, so I guess we were there. That reunion was probably the most elegant, fairly expensive, and not as well attended. There was a formal banquet, slide show from the past, and dancing to music from the 70s. Everyone had kids and people were slightly more pretentious than they'd been in their 20s. We don't remember it very well, and I don't remember it as being really fun.
So when the time came to go to the 30th reunion, Mark decided he didn't want to go. He decided early. And he didn't undecide and decide to go until the weekend before the party. But we went. And I'm so glad we did.
This was the most casual of the reunions. We're all old. Some look just like they did in high school (my husband included) and they look good. You know those girls had been dieting for six months and it showed. They looked great. I don't think guys do that. But I think some get new clothes and did take an interest in putting their best foot forward. No pretentiousness. It was literally come as you are. Maybe 25% of the class was there. The ones there had fun. Lots of beer flowed, apple wine made at a classmate's winery flowed, food from a classmates Italian restaurant, including pies (what they apparently call pizza in Iowa now) enmasse. Very casual, very nice, very fun.
But where was everyone else? If 75% of the class doesn't show up...
Sadly, 5% are no longer living. That's a staggering number to me. 21 people. All under 50. The pictures were all there on the wall at both parties. Participants in the festivities who were missed and honored. Cancer, accidents, drugs, booze. Gone. There are more every decade. Several of those pictured surprised us. It is very sad.
But still, 70% didn't come. Why not?
It could be that the high cost of travel kept the 116 out of staters from attending. Whenever we asked "Where's So-So" the answer was "Florida," or "Buffalo," or "Austin." There had been three foreign exchange students in the class, and they weren't there, but there was a really nice photo from the yearbook and a poster with an e-mail from a girl from Japan. She wrote that she hoped people from the class would e-mail her. I hope they took pictures of her picture with them and sent them to her. She was a part of the festivities. Not a lot of people knew her, but she was missed.
Organizers told us there are 190 classmates still in the town, another 110 somewhere in the state (and Iowa is a small state). That accounts for most of the people there, but even if that's 60 people, where were the other 240 that live within easy driving distance in the town or state? Why didn't they come? I'm sure a certain percent, let's say 10% are "missing" with bad addresses or some reason why they can't be found. There are still lots more people who aren't there.
Could it be the ones who got picked on in high school didn't come? Could it be the ones that really wanted to come but had weddings or family event or vacations planned at the same time? Were there people who couldn't afford to come? The whole weekend cost something like $35. When coupled with a tank of gas is that asking too much? Maybe.
I don't know why the people didn't come. Maybe the ones who don't party and don't condone drinking don't come because they expect people to be loud and obnoxious. It was loud, but I didn't see anyone being obnoxious. And there's no smoking in Iowa, so that wasn't an issue. I don't think that anyone who didn't drink should have been offended by the environment. It was very pleasant and congenial. So why didn't they come?
Well, whatever the reason, they missed a good party, and had they come, they would have been welcomed and would have talked to people they possibly didn't even know 30 years ago. I know I did. And my husband did. Everyone was nice. Everyone was proud of their kids and had great stories to share. Some were divorced. None spoke of that with glee. But everyone laughed., or at least smiled. A lot. We ate well. We learned a lot about each other. A table full of us spouses even solved the world's energy crisis with our discussions while the classmates were out having their photos taken. It was interesting. A reunion of like souls, a concentrated demographic all in one place. It was a fascinating focus group.
Funny thing, it wasn't even my class. It was just a lot of nice people who went with a great attitude to see who would show up. If you didn't show up, you were missed. I wish people thought about that before they chose to not attend.
So go to your class reunion. If you don't show up, you will be missed. It's not that scary. Sure, we were nervous, but there wasn't any real reason to be. Go to your class reunion. You don't have to stay long if it's a bust, but I can practically guarantee it will be good for at least a few laughs. It's a fellowship that only comes around half a dozen times in your life. Take advantage of it. That's my advice for the day.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
One Good Summer
I passed by a mirror the other day and noticed I was smiling. It was a bit of a shock, because I suddenly realized I was having a good time.
When you're an adult with a family and a mortgage and a small business, it's sometimes not that easy to remember to have fun. This summer I think we've been doing a pretty good job of it around our house, and in my business too. It's making a difference with me.
Although we normally vacation in the summer and take a couple road trips (me and the boys), we've been home all summer thus far. I usually don't like to work as much in the summer, but now that the kids are older and want nothing to do with me, not to mention with costs going up like they are, I need to work more. I guess everyone does.
I don't mind. There seems to be plenty of work to choose from, and this summer I've resolved to take on only the work I really want. I have some partners I'm working with and that's been fun. Yes, so far my summer has been one of the best I can remember.
In addition to working with some really great people this summer and getting involved in some fun projects around things like the Olympics and film festivals and corporate giving, I've also been writing a lot. And I have a lot of ideas right now. Some are pretty good. Some make me tired. But overall, I'm a bit restless. It's the state I like to be in. The state where you get up early, and stay up late. Summer time.
If you're not having fun yet this summer you need a change of attitude. Remind yourself that it is summer. Sure we have to work hard. But play hard too. I've been to baseball games and water parks. I had a "girls day on the lake" and a few afternoons by the pool. I've played tennis, and I've been boating...it's been a good summer. I even heard my youngest say to my oldest as I headed out for a lunch with friends the other day, "Man, Mom has a lot of friends." Life in the summer can be good. Everybody wants to have fun.
Yes, indeed. Summer is definitely here. Enjoy it. When you catch yourself smiling, it feels good.
When you're an adult with a family and a mortgage and a small business, it's sometimes not that easy to remember to have fun. This summer I think we've been doing a pretty good job of it around our house, and in my business too. It's making a difference with me.
Although we normally vacation in the summer and take a couple road trips (me and the boys), we've been home all summer thus far. I usually don't like to work as much in the summer, but now that the kids are older and want nothing to do with me, not to mention with costs going up like they are, I need to work more. I guess everyone does.
I don't mind. There seems to be plenty of work to choose from, and this summer I've resolved to take on only the work I really want. I have some partners I'm working with and that's been fun. Yes, so far my summer has been one of the best I can remember.
In addition to working with some really great people this summer and getting involved in some fun projects around things like the Olympics and film festivals and corporate giving, I've also been writing a lot. And I have a lot of ideas right now. Some are pretty good. Some make me tired. But overall, I'm a bit restless. It's the state I like to be in. The state where you get up early, and stay up late. Summer time.
If you're not having fun yet this summer you need a change of attitude. Remind yourself that it is summer. Sure we have to work hard. But play hard too. I've been to baseball games and water parks. I had a "girls day on the lake" and a few afternoons by the pool. I've played tennis, and I've been boating...it's been a good summer. I even heard my youngest say to my oldest as I headed out for a lunch with friends the other day, "Man, Mom has a lot of friends." Life in the summer can be good. Everybody wants to have fun.
Yes, indeed. Summer is definitely here. Enjoy it. When you catch yourself smiling, it feels good.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A Seismic Shift in Need of a Name
Things are happening in the world today that indicate to me that we're at a point in history that will be remembered forever. At some point soon someone not unlike me is going to be involved in "naming" the current time period. I'm thinking of applying for the job. I'm just not sure who I need to contact about the work. Who owns this problem? Who is working to fix this?
Could it be our elected officials in Washington? Are they responsible? If you ask them, they are not. That's probably not the right place to send my application, even though I know a few people there. And with that "Kevin Bacon Six Degrees" thing I'm to a cell phone of a Texas Senator who probably would talk to me in two calls. None the less, Texas senators are not worried about the recession. The economy is pretty good here.
So, if the government doesn't want to own the project, perhaps the major television networks will name the recession. They have internal people and are themselves creative companies, so if the networks are going to do it, they'll do it themselves, and there won't be any work from them. In fact some 25 year old graphic designer will make a graphic to go with the name that will be used in 17 newscasts daily, as well as on the web site and during sure to happen "special reports."
Everyone is pointing fingers at the oil executives and oil industry, but let me tell you they are not concerned with the recession because they don't have a clue it is going on. I live in Texas, and I saw the fireworks displays, and I see the cars their kids get at 16, and I've heard about the homes. They are not sitting around thinking about the recession. Since they don't know it's going on, they don't own the problem and certainly are not about to take it on. They have their own PR nightmares ahead over the next 20 years as demand for supply increases, the bottom falls out for U.S. based oil companies, expenses increase, and the resource is somehow militarized. (China will have more cars on the road in 20 years than the U.S.)
Mortgage companies and banks and financial institutions are thinking about the recession. They helped cause a piece of it with lax lending practices and contributions to the "Sure you can afford it!" push for borrowing. But in my history, bankers don't like to spend money on "creative things." A name, attached to a campaign, is pretty creative.
The credit card companies might be a place to start. Hmmmm. Now if anyone knows about marketing ("What's in your wallet?" "Priceless" "The card that pays you back."....) it's the big credit card companies. At the helm are the big, big, big banks that don't like to spend money, but they have so much and are basically printing it, so they do fund big marketing campaigns. The Dr. Evil of them all is Bank of America. They own Citi or Chase or one of the other biggies. The credit card companies are masters supreme at creating businesses that own businesses that own businesses, and everyone pays the other one -- with interest. And somewhere in the bowels of the corporate megatheopolis is an accountant or an economics expert who has all of a sudden realized that as an industry, they just might be responsible for the recession.
Now the people who started it all are long retired and possibly even are burning in hell at this very moment. That's a scary thought. There were people a few decades back who took the innocence of an era and shifted it by making sure everyone had a Master Charge (remember that?) or Bank Americard (I think there were only two), which evolved into MasterCard and VISA, and there was Diners Club, and always American Express, and the gas companies got in on it with their charge cards. Competition in the card industry began, advertising got involved. Ads made people think they needed and DESERVED things they couldn't afford, and so began the half generation of spending that made America not only the greatest place to live, but also the nation with the most debt. And that consumer debt followed into the government sector, and our nation went into debt.
A lot of the debt has gone to fund tremendously expensive, dangerous and destructive military executions and wars in other parts of the world. I guess because as we became the most indebted nation, we became the most aggressive. So now that we're talking military, THERE is an industry that is well aware of the need for slogans and marketing. Today they are working it hard. High school parking lots are hang-outs for recruiters. There are thinly disguised "military" channels on DISH network that are 24 hour a day commercials for the Army, Navy, and Marines. The military is marketing to a generation of pacifist parents about the great opportunities in the military, the college educations that come from it, and how to accept that their kid wants to join. It scares me where this is all going. Especially as my oldest son looks at two years before he's 18. 18-year old boys do have to register with the Selective Service. If we're marketing to parents now, where is this headed?
So as I apologize for digressing all over the place, let me get back to the topic: the name for the current time period. Based on the above I believe that no one entity is going to take responsibility for the current recession or name it or take ownership of it. So basically I don't think there is anyone to send my proposal to offering my services in naming it. Except perhaps...it is a political year...perhaps this is what John McCain and Mr. Obama will do. Name the problem, and figure out the solution.
Just like when Mrs. Clinton figured out the health care crisis, took ownership of it, and promised to fix it -- during her husband's first term. Someone is going to take ownership of this problem. The sad thing is, tying yourself to the recession is risky. Even if you try to do it by naming the problem and focusing on the solutions, advisors will tell our candidates that's a "touchy" subject. The safe topics like "religion" and "abortion" and "race" will be the issues of this campaign.
I'm sure there are other clients who might be potential targets for my proposal to name the current time period: think tanks (is Avery Lovins still doing his?), perhaps colleges or universities, Consumer Reports? If I could put my confidence in one person to know what I was talking about, take it on, name it, own it, promote it, popularize it, and change society because of it, it would be Al Gore. He did it with the internet, he did it with global warming. He is the only one who can do it with the recession.
Al Gore, where are you? Does anyone have his cell number?
Could it be our elected officials in Washington? Are they responsible? If you ask them, they are not. That's probably not the right place to send my application, even though I know a few people there. And with that "Kevin Bacon Six Degrees" thing I'm to a cell phone of a Texas Senator who probably would talk to me in two calls. None the less, Texas senators are not worried about the recession. The economy is pretty good here.
So, if the government doesn't want to own the project, perhaps the major television networks will name the recession. They have internal people and are themselves creative companies, so if the networks are going to do it, they'll do it themselves, and there won't be any work from them. In fact some 25 year old graphic designer will make a graphic to go with the name that will be used in 17 newscasts daily, as well as on the web site and during sure to happen "special reports."
Everyone is pointing fingers at the oil executives and oil industry, but let me tell you they are not concerned with the recession because they don't have a clue it is going on. I live in Texas, and I saw the fireworks displays, and I see the cars their kids get at 16, and I've heard about the homes. They are not sitting around thinking about the recession. Since they don't know it's going on, they don't own the problem and certainly are not about to take it on. They have their own PR nightmares ahead over the next 20 years as demand for supply increases, the bottom falls out for U.S. based oil companies, expenses increase, and the resource is somehow militarized. (China will have more cars on the road in 20 years than the U.S.)
Mortgage companies and banks and financial institutions are thinking about the recession. They helped cause a piece of it with lax lending practices and contributions to the "Sure you can afford it!" push for borrowing. But in my history, bankers don't like to spend money on "creative things." A name, attached to a campaign, is pretty creative.
The credit card companies might be a place to start. Hmmmm. Now if anyone knows about marketing ("What's in your wallet?" "Priceless" "The card that pays you back."....) it's the big credit card companies. At the helm are the big, big, big banks that don't like to spend money, but they have so much and are basically printing it, so they do fund big marketing campaigns. The Dr. Evil of them all is Bank of America. They own Citi or Chase or one of the other biggies. The credit card companies are masters supreme at creating businesses that own businesses that own businesses, and everyone pays the other one -- with interest. And somewhere in the bowels of the corporate megatheopolis is an accountant or an economics expert who has all of a sudden realized that as an industry, they just might be responsible for the recession.
Now the people who started it all are long retired and possibly even are burning in hell at this very moment. That's a scary thought. There were people a few decades back who took the innocence of an era and shifted it by making sure everyone had a Master Charge (remember that?) or Bank Americard (I think there were only two), which evolved into MasterCard and VISA, and there was Diners Club, and always American Express, and the gas companies got in on it with their charge cards. Competition in the card industry began, advertising got involved. Ads made people think they needed and DESERVED things they couldn't afford, and so began the half generation of spending that made America not only the greatest place to live, but also the nation with the most debt. And that consumer debt followed into the government sector, and our nation went into debt.
A lot of the debt has gone to fund tremendously expensive, dangerous and destructive military executions and wars in other parts of the world. I guess because as we became the most indebted nation, we became the most aggressive. So now that we're talking military, THERE is an industry that is well aware of the need for slogans and marketing. Today they are working it hard. High school parking lots are hang-outs for recruiters. There are thinly disguised "military" channels on DISH network that are 24 hour a day commercials for the Army, Navy, and Marines. The military is marketing to a generation of pacifist parents about the great opportunities in the military, the college educations that come from it, and how to accept that their kid wants to join. It scares me where this is all going. Especially as my oldest son looks at two years before he's 18. 18-year old boys do have to register with the Selective Service. If we're marketing to parents now, where is this headed?
So as I apologize for digressing all over the place, let me get back to the topic: the name for the current time period. Based on the above I believe that no one entity is going to take responsibility for the current recession or name it or take ownership of it. So basically I don't think there is anyone to send my proposal to offering my services in naming it. Except perhaps...it is a political year...perhaps this is what John McCain and Mr. Obama will do. Name the problem, and figure out the solution.
Just like when Mrs. Clinton figured out the health care crisis, took ownership of it, and promised to fix it -- during her husband's first term. Someone is going to take ownership of this problem. The sad thing is, tying yourself to the recession is risky. Even if you try to do it by naming the problem and focusing on the solutions, advisors will tell our candidates that's a "touchy" subject. The safe topics like "religion" and "abortion" and "race" will be the issues of this campaign.
I'm sure there are other clients who might be potential targets for my proposal to name the current time period: think tanks (is Avery Lovins still doing his?), perhaps colleges or universities, Consumer Reports? If I could put my confidence in one person to know what I was talking about, take it on, name it, own it, promote it, popularize it, and change society because of it, it would be Al Gore. He did it with the internet, he did it with global warming. He is the only one who can do it with the recession.
Al Gore, where are you? Does anyone have his cell number?
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