A country strapped for cash, paid postal workers overtime to accept envelopes containing income tax returns as late at 11:59 PM last night. I saw it on the late night news. In some locations, sudo drive-thrus emerged. Embarrassed, and not-so-embarrassed, last minute filers rolled up to the curb to hand envelopes through car windows to waiting postal workers, those lucky enough to snag an overtime shift in this slow economy.
The income tax return deadline is not like Easter, Thanksgiving or Presidents Day - a mobile holiday. This annual civic duty falls on the same day every year – like Christmas, the 4th of July and New Year’s Day. Planning to meet this deadline, while it is still daylight, might be an idea to embrace.
Help me understand. What’s the attraction to the last minute filing? You gain nothing by banking your money until the April 15th. In 2009, there’s no interest income to earn. Take your money out from under the mattress and just turn it over to the IRS.
I suppose some folks dread the annual reconciliation exercise, in the same way they dread going to the dentist. Personally, I subscribe to the “just get it over with” philosophy. The sooner its over, the sooner you can forget about it (until next year).
Perhaps some enjoy keeping the IRS at bay until the last possible moment. I swear I saw Thelma and Louise on the news last night. Heads thrown back, laughing at the stars, as they sped away from the Post Office at the stroke of midnight.
To all the April 15th Postal Drive-Thru patrons: I want to know - what makes you tick? Are you deadline averse? Do you fear the dentist chair? Are you the Thelma and Louise type? Please share. What makes you do it?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Freedom of Speech
I love 3 year-olds and 90 year-olds. They each tell it like it is.
One’s youthful innocence provides fascinating uninhibited opinion on a variety of topics. “Aunt Mary, how come you have white hairs in your head?” The other, having the reached the I’m-too-old-to-care-what-people-think stage, can give new meaning to the words open communication. As in, “That dress does nothing for you.”
I’m stuck squarely in the middle of the bite-your-tongue-stage, strictly prohibiting me from statements like: “You’re not wearing that tie, are you?” Freedom of speech can be highly overrated, and sometimes, it can get you in a lot of hot water.
Last week, in Towson Maryland, Freedom of Speech, proved its usefulness. The Westboro Baptist Church rallied along York Road to protest Towson High School’s Gay-Straight Alliance club. The mature intellect of the Towson High student body outclassed them beyond compare. THS students, over 300 strong, launched a peaceful anti-protest which gave new meaning to the Bible verse “Love one another as I have loved thee.”
This group from Kansas, who call themselves Christians, never had a chance. Their attempts to stir up hatred fell flat. I beamed with pride at the fantastic youth in our community. Clearly they have learned tolerance, acceptance and patience. Such incredible leaders for tomorrow.
One’s youthful innocence provides fascinating uninhibited opinion on a variety of topics. “Aunt Mary, how come you have white hairs in your head?” The other, having the reached the I’m-too-old-to-care-what-people-think stage, can give new meaning to the words open communication. As in, “That dress does nothing for you.”
I’m stuck squarely in the middle of the bite-your-tongue-stage, strictly prohibiting me from statements like: “You’re not wearing that tie, are you?” Freedom of speech can be highly overrated, and sometimes, it can get you in a lot of hot water.
Last week, in Towson Maryland, Freedom of Speech, proved its usefulness. The Westboro Baptist Church rallied along York Road to protest Towson High School’s Gay-Straight Alliance club. The mature intellect of the Towson High student body outclassed them beyond compare. THS students, over 300 strong, launched a peaceful anti-protest which gave new meaning to the Bible verse “Love one another as I have loved thee.”
This group from Kansas, who call themselves Christians, never had a chance. Their attempts to stir up hatred fell flat. I beamed with pride at the fantastic youth in our community. Clearly they have learned tolerance, acceptance and patience. Such incredible leaders for tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Surviving the Emergency Room
“Mom, I’m on my way to the hospital. My lung collapsed again.”
I thought it was a bad April Fool’s Day joke. Alas, it was no prank.
Not to worry. The lung quickly re-inflated. TJ is home. He is fine.
The kids and I are well-versed with this Emergency Room gig. Between the four of us, we hit double-digit visits quite some time ago. The next ER visit, I expect confetti and balloons to fall as we enter, marking Emergency Room Record Holder standing in the community.
Being an old pro in the ER, I thought I’d share some secrets:
Say the words “chest pain” to the triage nurse, gets you right in.
Don’t say “broken toe.” This translates to “last in line.”
Don’t touch anything. The place is full of germs.
Hand sanitizing gel stations are everywhere. Find one.
Name drop your doctor. Pediatrician, dermatologist, any name will do.
If your doctor has privileges at the hospital, you get more attention.
Ask about the TV remote. You could be there a while.
Trust me, there’s always a better channel than the one the nurse tuned in.
Bring a snack – for patient, parent or spouse.
You won’t be offered any food, even if you've been there for 6 hours.
If they say "she's being admitted," settle in with a good book.
This is a hospital, not a hotel. It can take 4 hours to
“turn a room.”
Be nice to the nurses. They stick you with the needles.
“Do unto others” is an important sentiment to cultivate,
especially in the ER.
These are a few of my Emergency Room survival tips. I’d love to hear yours. I’m sure I'll be back again soon to try them out.
I thought it was a bad April Fool’s Day joke. Alas, it was no prank.
Not to worry. The lung quickly re-inflated. TJ is home. He is fine.
The kids and I are well-versed with this Emergency Room gig. Between the four of us, we hit double-digit visits quite some time ago. The next ER visit, I expect confetti and balloons to fall as we enter, marking Emergency Room Record Holder standing in the community.
Being an old pro in the ER, I thought I’d share some secrets:
Say the words “chest pain” to the triage nurse, gets you right in.
Don’t say “broken toe.” This translates to “last in line.”
Don’t touch anything. The place is full of germs.
Hand sanitizing gel stations are everywhere. Find one.
Name drop your doctor. Pediatrician, dermatologist, any name will do.
If your doctor has privileges at the hospital, you get more attention.
Ask about the TV remote. You could be there a while.
Trust me, there’s always a better channel than the one the nurse tuned in.
Bring a snack – for patient, parent or spouse.
You won’t be offered any food, even if you've been there for 6 hours.
If they say "she's being admitted," settle in with a good book.
This is a hospital, not a hotel. It can take 4 hours to
“turn a room.”
Be nice to the nurses. They stick you with the needles.
“Do unto others” is an important sentiment to cultivate,
especially in the ER.
These are a few of my Emergency Room survival tips. I’d love to hear yours. I’m sure I'll be back again soon to try them out.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Warning Signs a Danger
People manage to read road signs every day without slowing down
the car. Driving requires we multi-task. We speed-read every time we are behind the wheel. What is it about those yellow flashing overhead warning signs on the highway that cause drivers to slam on the breaks to read: “Right Lane closed ahead 1 mile”
I don’t really see the need for many of these warnings. Traveling
60 miles per hour, in the left lane, I am not going to choose a different route in the next mile. Is the purpose to alert folks of
the lane closure, so they can merge over early to prepare?
That never happens.
Instead, drivers hit the breaks, to get a good read. Causing sudden pace-changes on otherwise clear roads, these warning signs are a danger. Rubber-necking, slowed progress, back ups and occasional fender-benders result.
It’s a yellow blinking sign, it must be important.
Occassionally, the Dept of Transportation tries to use these signs
to serve a a greater public purpose. My personal favorite is:
“Don’t Drink and Drive.” What am I supposed to do with this information? “Honey, pull over – I just remembered, you’re not supposed to drink and drive.”
Can I ask drivers a favor? If the warning reads “Amber Alert,” by all means, slow down to get a good long read. Otherwise, keep moving please.
the car. Driving requires we multi-task. We speed-read every time we are behind the wheel. What is it about those yellow flashing overhead warning signs on the highway that cause drivers to slam on the breaks to read: “Right Lane closed ahead 1 mile”
I don’t really see the need for many of these warnings. Traveling
60 miles per hour, in the left lane, I am not going to choose a different route in the next mile. Is the purpose to alert folks of
the lane closure, so they can merge over early to prepare?
That never happens.
Instead, drivers hit the breaks, to get a good read. Causing sudden pace-changes on otherwise clear roads, these warning signs are a danger. Rubber-necking, slowed progress, back ups and occasional fender-benders result.
It’s a yellow blinking sign, it must be important.
Occassionally, the Dept of Transportation tries to use these signs
to serve a a greater public purpose. My personal favorite is:
“Don’t Drink and Drive.” What am I supposed to do with this information? “Honey, pull over – I just remembered, you’re not supposed to drink and drive.”
Can I ask drivers a favor? If the warning reads “Amber Alert,” by all means, slow down to get a good long read. Otherwise, keep moving please.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Leprechaun in All of Us
St. Patrick’s Day is a high holy holiday for the Irish, and the Irish at heart. Yesterday was no exception.
Most days, I enjoy the solitude of owning my own small business.
Most days, I enjoy the solitude of owning my own small business.
But yesterday, I missed working in an office full of people. I had no co-workers for my traditional St. Patrick’s Day lunch at the Pub, so I opted for a workout instead.
Wearin-o-the-green abounded at the gym, where I was greeted by a gal with green feather headgear. Not exactly the same as lunch at the Pub, but at least the Irish spirit was alive here.
What is it about St. Patrick’s Day that brings out the leprechaun in all of us? People unite and embrace a common culture. Regardless of their heritage, they wear green. They smile. They toast. They sing Irish songs - songs they do not know the words to. Belly up to the bar, they chat with strangers.
We could all use more days during the year when we are united, carefree, and friendly. A monthly St. Patricks Day would do a us all some good.
This good ole Irish gal did make it to the Pub yesterday - dinner, Harp, chats with strangers and authentic Irish music. (to which I remembered most of the words)
I wish you a Happy St. Patrick’s Day every day.
What is it about St. Patrick’s Day that brings out the leprechaun in all of us? People unite and embrace a common culture. Regardless of their heritage, they wear green. They smile. They toast. They sing Irish songs - songs they do not know the words to. Belly up to the bar, they chat with strangers.
We could all use more days during the year when we are united, carefree, and friendly. A monthly St. Patricks Day would do a us all some good.
This good ole Irish gal did make it to the Pub yesterday - dinner, Harp, chats with strangers and authentic Irish music. (to which I remembered most of the words)
I wish you a Happy St. Patrick’s Day every day.
When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure it's like a morning spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter,
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.
Friday, March 13, 2009
That Alice in Wonderland Feeling
Spring, for many, is a steady, comforting feeling, like the return of an old friend. Flowers and trees awaken from their winter slumber, emitting buds and blooms. Birds return from southern climates, happily chirping in our trees.
This year in Baltimore, the arrival of Spring conveys a different emotion: Confusion. March is typically heralded as the month that “comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” We completed that directive last week alone. Monday, it snows. Schools close. Planned activities cancel. Flights delay. Tuesday, we dig out. Wednesday, the roads are safe again. Thursday, we yearn for Spring. Friday – poof – It’s here! Sunny skies, warm breezes, 73 degrees.
What does rest of the month have in store for us? Today, the forecast is snow flurries. Add in the time change this week for daylight savings time, Baltimore is just a mess. Where am I?
I feel like Alice in Wonderland.
The lesson for March is “expect the unexpected.” Seems like Mother Nature is in tune with the state of our economy.
This year in Baltimore, the arrival of Spring conveys a different emotion: Confusion. March is typically heralded as the month that “comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.” We completed that directive last week alone. Monday, it snows. Schools close. Planned activities cancel. Flights delay. Tuesday, we dig out. Wednesday, the roads are safe again. Thursday, we yearn for Spring. Friday – poof – It’s here! Sunny skies, warm breezes, 73 degrees.
What does rest of the month have in store for us? Today, the forecast is snow flurries. Add in the time change this week for daylight savings time, Baltimore is just a mess. Where am I?
I feel like Alice in Wonderland.
The lesson for March is “expect the unexpected.” Seems like Mother Nature is in tune with the state of our economy.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Arriving home from a business trip, a pile of newspapers were sure to greet me on the front lawn. My teen would not have thought to pick up the daily unsolicited papers in my absence.
Imagine my surprise as I pulled up and eyed the barren lawn. Clearly, I had misjudged my daughter. (They grow up so quickly, don’t they?) Tossing aside my suitcase, I settled on the sofa with a glass of wine to end my busy week. Finding nothing of interest on TV, I searched for a newspaper, to extract a crossword puzzle or Sudoku. Surprise. No newspapers in the basket in the living room. I peaked outside, perhaps I had missed them. Nope.
The non-stop delivery, for which I did not pay and had oft requested the distributor cease, had indeed finally stopped. Why? I do not know. I imagine, this is a result of our current economic times - scaled back deliveries, publishers going out of business.
Some mornings, I miss the daily newspapers littering my lawn. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Could be, I enjoyed the exercise. The squats, the toe-touches, the fresh air, inherent in rounding up 2 or 3 papers a day, were part of my daily routine. Could be, I fear I will run out of those little plastic sleeves papers are delivered in. All dog owners know, these are ideal for the collection and disposal of doggy droppings.
I am glad to know some things never change. My teen did not pick up the newspapers in my absence. Imagine my surprise if that event had occurred. I might have fallen off my chair and broke a toe or something.
Imagine my surprise as I pulled up and eyed the barren lawn. Clearly, I had misjudged my daughter. (They grow up so quickly, don’t they?) Tossing aside my suitcase, I settled on the sofa with a glass of wine to end my busy week. Finding nothing of interest on TV, I searched for a newspaper, to extract a crossword puzzle or Sudoku. Surprise. No newspapers in the basket in the living room. I peaked outside, perhaps I had missed them. Nope.
The non-stop delivery, for which I did not pay and had oft requested the distributor cease, had indeed finally stopped. Why? I do not know. I imagine, this is a result of our current economic times - scaled back deliveries, publishers going out of business.
Some mornings, I miss the daily newspapers littering my lawn. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Could be, I enjoyed the exercise. The squats, the toe-touches, the fresh air, inherent in rounding up 2 or 3 papers a day, were part of my daily routine. Could be, I fear I will run out of those little plastic sleeves papers are delivered in. All dog owners know, these are ideal for the collection and disposal of doggy droppings.
I am glad to know some things never change. My teen did not pick up the newspapers in my absence. Imagine my surprise if that event had occurred. I might have fallen off my chair and broke a toe or something.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Breaking the Rules
Most Christian’s know, today is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. Growing up a good Catholic, the mandate each year was to choose something to “give up” for Lent. Lent being a time of reflection on the suffering of our forefathers in faith, what better way to empathize with their suffering, than to give up cookies for 40 days.
As a child, I suffered through Lent each year, skipping dessert or giving up candy or soda (as if soda were actually a staple of everyday life in the household of my youth). One year I tried to give up oatmeal. I said the poor kids in India really needed the nutrients more than I. As you might imagine, this did not pass muster with my parents.
I’ve long replaced giving up something for Lent with “doing something extra” during Lent. I believe one can meaningfully reflect on suffering by helping others. Perhaps I am breaking the rules of my religious upbringing, but I’m also a Lutheran now, not a Catholic.
Catholic, Jew or Atheist, it is a good idea, this doing something extra in life. Call it a Springtime resolution. Add one selfless act to your day, or your week, or your month. Drop some food at the local shelter, pass on the resume of an unemployed neighbor or friend to someone who may be hiring, send money to a needy organization or volunteer your time.
Find something extra you can do and give it a try this Lent. It’s much more rewarding than giving up cookies. Trust me, I know.
As a child, I suffered through Lent each year, skipping dessert or giving up candy or soda (as if soda were actually a staple of everyday life in the household of my youth). One year I tried to give up oatmeal. I said the poor kids in India really needed the nutrients more than I. As you might imagine, this did not pass muster with my parents.
I’ve long replaced giving up something for Lent with “doing something extra” during Lent. I believe one can meaningfully reflect on suffering by helping others. Perhaps I am breaking the rules of my religious upbringing, but I’m also a Lutheran now, not a Catholic.
Catholic, Jew or Atheist, it is a good idea, this doing something extra in life. Call it a Springtime resolution. Add one selfless act to your day, or your week, or your month. Drop some food at the local shelter, pass on the resume of an unemployed neighbor or friend to someone who may be hiring, send money to a needy organization or volunteer your time.
Find something extra you can do and give it a try this Lent. It’s much more rewarding than giving up cookies. Trust me, I know.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Please, Thank You & I'm Sorry
“Love means never having to say you are sorry.” Who coined that phrase? Must have been a man. Probably one who believes flowers, chocolates or jewelry are unnecessary gifts after the exchange of wedding vows.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” on the other hand, was probably conceived by a woman. I imagine a multi-tasking Mommy dreamed that up, to free herself from the guilt of failing to be perfect.
Don’t get me wrong – I believe both of these sentiments have their place, figuratively, but not literally. We are all imperfect people in an imperfect world. Accept this fate. Give yourself permission to forget, to over commit, to make mistakes. Breathe a sign of relief. Then, remember, life is indeed about the small stuff.
How nice would it be if someone else in the house emptied the dishwasher? If a neighbor tossed your newspaper the extra few yards onto your porch one cold, rainy morning? If a stranger stopped to help you change a flat tire? How much happier you would be if someone simply remembered to take out the trash, without being reminded?
Life would be sweeter. A smile would play across your lips. Now, imagine a “please” or “thank you” added in, an “I’m sorry” from your partner for an unanticipated slight.
Everyday, mundane things make up the bulk of our existence. Pay attention to them. Today, tomorrow and the next day. See how it feels. See what it changes.
Remember, Love means saying you are sorry even when you are not expected to.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.
“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” on the other hand, was probably conceived by a woman. I imagine a multi-tasking Mommy dreamed that up, to free herself from the guilt of failing to be perfect.
Don’t get me wrong – I believe both of these sentiments have their place, figuratively, but not literally. We are all imperfect people in an imperfect world. Accept this fate. Give yourself permission to forget, to over commit, to make mistakes. Breathe a sign of relief. Then, remember, life is indeed about the small stuff.
How nice would it be if someone else in the house emptied the dishwasher? If a neighbor tossed your newspaper the extra few yards onto your porch one cold, rainy morning? If a stranger stopped to help you change a flat tire? How much happier you would be if someone simply remembered to take out the trash, without being reminded?
Life would be sweeter. A smile would play across your lips. Now, imagine a “please” or “thank you” added in, an “I’m sorry” from your partner for an unanticipated slight.
Everyday, mundane things make up the bulk of our existence. Pay attention to them. Today, tomorrow and the next day. See how it feels. See what it changes.
Remember, Love means saying you are sorry even when you are not expected to.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Cool Parent Points - A Text Message Away
Last month, I offered to design a Time Management training for busy executives in the seniors housing industry. No one has, as yet, taken me up on my offer. Apparently, they are too busy to meet to review my proposal.
Alas, this a problem many of us face – juggling what we need to do, what we want to do, and what we have to do.
Moms have long been seen as time management queens – juggling jobs, laundry, grocery shopping and PTA meetings, but single fathers and stay-at-home dads rival them today. When meal planning and mopping was replaced with pre-packaged meals and the amazing Swiffer Wet-Jet, we all found more time to attend to the expanded social needs of our children. With school, sports, scouts, church, jobs and more, this generation was born multi-tasking.
My newest time management tool is a Blackberry. I told the salesman I needed it for my business, but I really bought it so I could save time typing text messages. My cell phone bill revealed I sent 132 texts last month. There’s no comparison between typing on a key pad vs a phone pad. This baby is going to pay for itself inside a month.
Who am I texting? My children, of course. If you are not texting your children, you are truly missing out. One - you get “cool parent” points if you text. This is huge! Two – you save both time and frustration when you utilize the communication method that will produce the most desirable result in the quickest time. (One of my key Time Management Tips for Busy Executives) This generation of children does not communicate with e-mail and phone calls, they text.
Those of you who know me well, know I time-manage in my sleep, but we can all use a little help now and then. If you want a few more time management tips, send me a text. I’ll get right back to you.
Alas, this a problem many of us face – juggling what we need to do, what we want to do, and what we have to do.
Moms have long been seen as time management queens – juggling jobs, laundry, grocery shopping and PTA meetings, but single fathers and stay-at-home dads rival them today. When meal planning and mopping was replaced with pre-packaged meals and the amazing Swiffer Wet-Jet, we all found more time to attend to the expanded social needs of our children. With school, sports, scouts, church, jobs and more, this generation was born multi-tasking.
My newest time management tool is a Blackberry. I told the salesman I needed it for my business, but I really bought it so I could save time typing text messages. My cell phone bill revealed I sent 132 texts last month. There’s no comparison between typing on a key pad vs a phone pad. This baby is going to pay for itself inside a month.
Who am I texting? My children, of course. If you are not texting your children, you are truly missing out. One - you get “cool parent” points if you text. This is huge! Two – you save both time and frustration when you utilize the communication method that will produce the most desirable result in the quickest time. (One of my key Time Management Tips for Busy Executives) This generation of children does not communicate with e-mail and phone calls, they text.
Those of you who know me well, know I time-manage in my sleep, but we can all use a little help now and then. If you want a few more time management tips, send me a text. I’ll get right back to you.
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