You don’t need a calendar to determine the season. Simply watch the décor at retailers. Pink, yellow and green – it’s April. Red, white and blue – July. Orange and black – October. Green and red – December. And if the Ravens are doing well – its Purple Friday here in Baltimore each week in January.
In recent years, pink has replaced orange in October, for Breast Cancer Awareness month. Store windows, publications and numerous products, sport pink ribbons or new pink packaging to raise money and awareness.
Pink controversy has arisen with one non-profit’s sale of pink cancer awareness bracelets reading: “I love Boobies.” Designed to raise teen awareness of Breast Cancer and spark conversation, these bracelets are popping up in middle schools and high schools across the country. The campaign is working, but the conversation is not. Schools are banning them and civil rights activists are rallying.
Teenage boys, in many schools, outnumber teenage girls wearing the “I love Boobies” bracelets. Do some have other motives?
Of course they do, they’re teenagers. That is to be expected.
Take the conversation off the words and onto the topic. Breast Cancer kills over 40,000 women each year – mothers, sisters, daughters, friends, neighbors.
I urge school administrators to keep talking, but talk about early detection, treatment and research, not about dress codes and foul language. Boobies, breasts, bust, bosom – these are not dirty words. I say let the boys wear bracelets!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Privacy Stays Grounded at Take-off
The proximity of fellow travelers on an airplane can invite the uninvited, not only into your personal space, but also into your life.
I tend to be a loner on a plane. I read a book, watch the in-flight movie or take a nap, rarely initiating small talk with my neighbor inches away. A gentleman seated at my left elbow once shared his penchant for Sudoku. Confessing he wasn’t very good at it, he proceeded to give me “helpful tips” as I quietly worked my puzzle. Thanks, I think.
When there’s little turbulence, I like to pop down the seat-tray and play Solitaire. Eyes routinely wander over and folks just can’t help but chime in with strategy points. Solitaire is a singular game, by definition, one might think. Not true, when quarters are close.
I’m flying to Denver tomorrow, Los Angeles and Rochester later this fall. I’ll be bringing a deck of cards, Sudoku and a new book to read. Everyone keeps telling me to buy a Kindle, but I’m afraid I’ll find my neighbors reading along. A gal needs a little privacy every now and then, even on an airplane.
I tend to be a loner on a plane. I read a book, watch the in-flight movie or take a nap, rarely initiating small talk with my neighbor inches away. A gentleman seated at my left elbow once shared his penchant for Sudoku. Confessing he wasn’t very good at it, he proceeded to give me “helpful tips” as I quietly worked my puzzle. Thanks, I think.
When there’s little turbulence, I like to pop down the seat-tray and play Solitaire. Eyes routinely wander over and folks just can’t help but chime in with strategy points. Solitaire is a singular game, by definition, one might think. Not true, when quarters are close.
I’m flying to Denver tomorrow, Los Angeles and Rochester later this fall. I’ll be bringing a deck of cards, Sudoku and a new book to read. Everyone keeps telling me to buy a Kindle, but I’m afraid I’ll find my neighbors reading along. A gal needs a little privacy every now and then, even on an airplane.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Friends and Elections
One never knows how many friends one has until there’s a job to be done. Moving, celebrating or consoling, out of the woodwork they appear.
With many seats up for grabs this election, the Primary race in my county has been contentious. I’ve lost count of the negative TV ads.
I could paper my kitchen walls with the flyers I’ve received. Candidates stop by unexpectedly, leaving personal notes, just like an old friend, “Denise, Sorry I missed you. –Mike” I’m considering delivering my own little notes, “Mike, Looking forward to seeing you this Saturday at the painting party at my house. Your friend Denise"
So many “new friends” are calling the house with reminders “Vote for me in the Primary on Tuesday!” that I’ve stopped answering the phone. This quote caught my eye today: “A friend is someone who is there for you, when he’d rather be somewhere else.” I have a lot of friends looking for me today and I would rather be somewhere else.
When the polls close tomorrow, these "friends" will fade back into the woodwork - until there is a another job to be done.
With many seats up for grabs this election, the Primary race in my county has been contentious. I’ve lost count of the negative TV ads.
I could paper my kitchen walls with the flyers I’ve received. Candidates stop by unexpectedly, leaving personal notes, just like an old friend, “Denise, Sorry I missed you. –Mike” I’m considering delivering my own little notes, “Mike, Looking forward to seeing you this Saturday at the painting party at my house. Your friend Denise"
So many “new friends” are calling the house with reminders “Vote for me in the Primary on Tuesday!” that I’ve stopped answering the phone. This quote caught my eye today: “A friend is someone who is there for you, when he’d rather be somewhere else.” I have a lot of friends looking for me today and I would rather be somewhere else.
When the polls close tomorrow, these "friends" will fade back into the woodwork - until there is a another job to be done.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Eat, Pray, Work
A conference call with a new client last month began “We are a faith-based organization and we pray before all meetings. You can join us if you like.” Some might find this odd. I found it oddly comforting.
I have many non-profit clients. Translation, religious groups. Jewish, Catholic, Presbyterian, they run the gamut. No one has ever asked me to pray with them before. Given the nature of our economy, prayer in business meetings may not be such a bad idea.
I thank God every day I have a job, many don’t. I think that counts as prayer at work. My work is related to government funding approvals. I hope I’m not violating the separation of church and state.
Eat, Pray, Work - sounds like the next hot book title. One woman's search for balance as she plods through everyday life . . . .
I have many non-profit clients. Translation, religious groups. Jewish, Catholic, Presbyterian, they run the gamut. No one has ever asked me to pray with them before. Given the nature of our economy, prayer in business meetings may not be such a bad idea.
I thank God every day I have a job, many don’t. I think that counts as prayer at work. My work is related to government funding approvals. I hope I’m not violating the separation of church and state.
Eat, Pray, Work - sounds like the next hot book title. One woman's search for balance as she plods through everyday life . . . .
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Resume Crisis
I know why so many Americans are unemployed. It’s not the economy. It’s the resumes.
Last month, I advertised an Administrative Assistant opening. Instructions were to send resumes via e-mail. The number of applicants was astounding. I read every resume, even though some intro e-mails and cover letters were enough to render a hiring decision. In short order, my finger ached from hitting the delete key.
“I’m looking for a position where my personality will shine.”
This is a desk job, not an on-camera gig. Delete.
“To secure a challenging opportunity that will enable me to grow and fulfill my dreams and help make the world a better place.”
I can’t help you there. Delete.
“. . . taught job performance in the fulfillment department.”
Read this 3 times. Laughed each time. Delete.
There’s a fine line between making your resume stand out and being quoted in my blog. Most people do not know where that line is. One listed their previous job title as “Director of First Impressions.” One signed the cover e-mail “Peace and Love.” Delete. Delete.
People were eager to work for me as a Property Manager, a Public Relations Director and an Instruction Designer. (not even sure what that is) Did they read the job description? Delete. Delete. Delete.
The insanity went on:
“. . . to meet so you can better guage my skills and experience.” Spelling counts. Consider yourself gauged. Delete.
"Type 35 wpm." I was tempted to write back with a little employment advice, "Keep that information under wraps." Delete.
“I think I meet most of your qualifications, but if you think I don’t, I understand.” Sweet, but delete.
I need someone who can accurately complete work, on time and within budget. If you tell me “personable professional” is your strongest skill, I’m worried. “An exceptional listener” doesn’t top the list either. Delete. Delete.
Resumes arrived from near and far with strange e-mail addresses: PecanDiva, BlueSky and StacyDuck. Delete. Delete. Delete.
I think I’m getting carpel-tunnel.
It may be a while until we emerge from the economic crisis.
In the meantime, we need to address the Resume Crisis.
Last month, I advertised an Administrative Assistant opening. Instructions were to send resumes via e-mail. The number of applicants was astounding. I read every resume, even though some intro e-mails and cover letters were enough to render a hiring decision. In short order, my finger ached from hitting the delete key.
“I’m looking for a position where my personality will shine.”
This is a desk job, not an on-camera gig. Delete.
“To secure a challenging opportunity that will enable me to grow and fulfill my dreams and help make the world a better place.”
I can’t help you there. Delete.
“. . . taught job performance in the fulfillment department.”
Read this 3 times. Laughed each time. Delete.
There’s a fine line between making your resume stand out and being quoted in my blog. Most people do not know where that line is. One listed their previous job title as “Director of First Impressions.” One signed the cover e-mail “Peace and Love.” Delete. Delete.
People were eager to work for me as a Property Manager, a Public Relations Director and an Instruction Designer. (not even sure what that is) Did they read the job description? Delete. Delete. Delete.
The insanity went on:
“. . . to meet so you can better guage my skills and experience.” Spelling counts. Consider yourself gauged. Delete.
"Type 35 wpm." I was tempted to write back with a little employment advice, "Keep that information under wraps." Delete.
“I think I meet most of your qualifications, but if you think I don’t, I understand.” Sweet, but delete.
I need someone who can accurately complete work, on time and within budget. If you tell me “personable professional” is your strongest skill, I’m worried. “An exceptional listener” doesn’t top the list either. Delete. Delete.
Resumes arrived from near and far with strange e-mail addresses: PecanDiva, BlueSky and StacyDuck. Delete. Delete. Delete.
I think I’m getting carpel-tunnel.
It may be a while until we emerge from the economic crisis.
In the meantime, we need to address the Resume Crisis.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Bait and Switch
Speed recording cameras mounted on pick-up trucks in work zones – an ingenious revenue generating vehicle.
Six months ago, signs went up in the beltway construction zone near my exit. Warning Signs adorned with orange flags announced: “Caution Work Zone, Speed Limit Radar Enforced.” The local paper even reported on this new clandestine ‘pick-up truck method’ of traffic enforcement.
The speed limit? 65 miles per hour. Ridiculous, I thought . With all the jersey walls and orange cones, how many people will be caught going 10 miles an hour over that limit. The rubbernecking alone will keep the traffic at a reasonable pace.
Little did I know a bait and switch was in the works. This week,
the signs have a slight alteration. The speed limit reads: 50
The reduced speed will be a safer work environment for the construction crews, but it may take a while for routine travelers
to notice the subtle difference.
More revenue for the county. Perhaps it will refill the budget deficit resulting from all the snow removal expenses this winter.
Six months ago, signs went up in the beltway construction zone near my exit. Warning Signs adorned with orange flags announced: “Caution Work Zone, Speed Limit Radar Enforced.” The local paper even reported on this new clandestine ‘pick-up truck method’ of traffic enforcement.
The speed limit? 65 miles per hour. Ridiculous, I thought . With all the jersey walls and orange cones, how many people will be caught going 10 miles an hour over that limit. The rubbernecking alone will keep the traffic at a reasonable pace.
Little did I know a bait and switch was in the works. This week,
the signs have a slight alteration. The speed limit reads: 50
The reduced speed will be a safer work environment for the construction crews, but it may take a while for routine travelers
to notice the subtle difference.
More revenue for the county. Perhaps it will refill the budget deficit resulting from all the snow removal expenses this winter.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Give Up or Take Up
Whether Catholic, Lutheran or Presbyterian, the time for reflection, repentance and empathy is upon us. Yes, empathy. The age-old tradition of “giving up” something for Lent is a gesture intended to help you identify with the suffering and hardship of your forbearers.
Big on tradition, I passed on the “giving up” gene to my kids.
Now, I’m trying to unravel that. Switching from Catholic to Lutheran a decade ago, my eyes opened to the “Take Up” method of Lenten observance. Help, serve, give, “take up” something new. Empathy and compassion are just as easily practiced when doing rather than denying. Good to know my ritual morning coffee and glass of wine with dinner are safe!
This sits much better with me all around. I’ve always been about action rather than abstention. So kids – help yourself to all the junk food you can stomach this season. But be sure to feed your soul too. Support a cause. Donate. Volunteer. Take up something new.
Big on tradition, I passed on the “giving up” gene to my kids.
Now, I’m trying to unravel that. Switching from Catholic to Lutheran a decade ago, my eyes opened to the “Take Up” method of Lenten observance. Help, serve, give, “take up” something new. Empathy and compassion are just as easily practiced when doing rather than denying. Good to know my ritual morning coffee and glass of wine with dinner are safe!
This sits much better with me all around. I’ve always been about action rather than abstention. So kids – help yourself to all the junk food you can stomach this season. But be sure to feed your soul too. Support a cause. Donate. Volunteer. Take up something new.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Economic Stimulus – Courtesy of Mother Nature
A recent Government Report out of Washington DC claims job market improvement may be slowing. Look out your window gentlemen. New jobs abound in the snow-ravaged mid-Atlantic!
Folks are still digging out from the storm of the century. Millions are being spent on snow removal. Anyone with a plow hitch, a back hoe or a shovel has new income opportunities.
BGE employees, past and present, are gainfully employed. Auto body shops are at full capacity. Bread, milk and toilet paper sales realized a significant jump (at least in snow-phobic Baltimore) as did salt, sand and cat litter.
As the great meltdown occurs, new job prospects arise. Plumbers, roofers and maintenance repair folks of all variety are hard at work on falling gutters, leaking roofs and flooded basements.
New employment opportunities will continue with pot hole repairs, sidewalk re-pointing and road resurfacing. Even arborists will have a full Spring calendar, trimming damaged trees and vegetation encroaching power lines.
As we brace for yet another run of the white stuff, don’t grumble. Remember, Mother Nature’s got her own economic stimulus plan.
It’s working its magic right here in Maryland.
Folks are still digging out from the storm of the century. Millions are being spent on snow removal. Anyone with a plow hitch, a back hoe or a shovel has new income opportunities.
BGE employees, past and present, are gainfully employed. Auto body shops are at full capacity. Bread, milk and toilet paper sales realized a significant jump (at least in snow-phobic Baltimore) as did salt, sand and cat litter.
As the great meltdown occurs, new job prospects arise. Plumbers, roofers and maintenance repair folks of all variety are hard at work on falling gutters, leaking roofs and flooded basements.
New employment opportunities will continue with pot hole repairs, sidewalk re-pointing and road resurfacing. Even arborists will have a full Spring calendar, trimming damaged trees and vegetation encroaching power lines.
As we brace for yet another run of the white stuff, don’t grumble. Remember, Mother Nature’s got her own economic stimulus plan.
It’s working its magic right here in Maryland.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
New Year's Resolution: Read more junk mail.
Junk mail arrives more often than many wish. Stopping the flow of unsolicited mail can be more difficult than canceling a newspaper subscription. (See prior blogs.) Mail arrives routinely for past homeowners, even though I've lived here 6 years. Occasionally, mail arrives for my ex. We split 14 years ago and he has never lived at this address. Apparently the mail marketing gurus did not get the memo.
In early December a fancy letter arrived. “Thank you for transferring your portfolio to L____ M____. Please sign and return the enclosed confirmation to make your file complete.” I threw it in the trash. Who has not received one of these cleverly disguised replicas? I have no desire to change mortgage companies, banks or credit cards.
Yesterday, I lost $35,000. Seems one of my investment funds sold its portfolio to L___ M____ and closed my account. Three phone calls later, I had the money back. That was one harrowing hour.
Unsolicited mail delivery to my house arrives in bundles. I consider myself adept at quickly spotting and disposing of unwanted items. I don’t have time to read every piece of junk mail, but I can’t afford to lose $35,000 either.
In early December a fancy letter arrived. “Thank you for transferring your portfolio to L____ M____. Please sign and return the enclosed confirmation to make your file complete.” I threw it in the trash. Who has not received one of these cleverly disguised replicas? I have no desire to change mortgage companies, banks or credit cards.
Yesterday, I lost $35,000. Seems one of my investment funds sold its portfolio to L___ M____ and closed my account. Three phone calls later, I had the money back. That was one harrowing hour.
Unsolicited mail delivery to my house arrives in bundles. I consider myself adept at quickly spotting and disposing of unwanted items. I don’t have time to read every piece of junk mail, but I can’t afford to lose $35,000 either.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Let Fate Decide the Menu
Two kinds of folks hold Pot Luck dinners. Those who’s choice to host a casual gathering requires them to assure a well-balanced meal is provided for all. And those who throw caution to the wind and let fate decide the menu. I am the latter.
Not all of my guests were comfortable with this planning style when I hosted a contingent of old college pals and spouses for a Pot Luck dinner last month. But they were good sports about it. “What do you need?” some asked. “Bring whatever you like,” I replied. “What dishes are people bringing?” “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
I enjoy the 'luck' part of a Pot Luck and have yet to end up with any dietary balance issues. Besides, will you wither away if you have a bowl of chill, a beer and 3 slices of pie for dinner? I think not.
So next time, let fate decide the menu. It’s half the fun.
Not all of my guests were comfortable with this planning style when I hosted a contingent of old college pals and spouses for a Pot Luck dinner last month. But they were good sports about it. “What do you need?” some asked. “Bring whatever you like,” I replied. “What dishes are people bringing?” “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
I enjoy the 'luck' part of a Pot Luck and have yet to end up with any dietary balance issues. Besides, will you wither away if you have a bowl of chill, a beer and 3 slices of pie for dinner? I think not.
So next time, let fate decide the menu. It’s half the fun.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Hate is a Strong Word
A colleague said to me the other day “I hate him.”
My friend, hate is a strong word. Maybe you dislike it when he clips his toenails in bed. His table manners may need some fine tuning. Possibly his politics rub you the wrong way. Are you simply annoyed by the drudgery of everyday life? We all get there every now and again.
I have strong opinions on the use of the word “hate.” We all have unique feelings and preferences on many fronts. Differences in opinion should be respected. Differences in life choices should be accepted. These should not be love-hate issues. Hate is a choice, one that should not be made lightly.
Intentional malicious behaviors, now those are to be hated. That and oatmeal. I hate oatmeal. Now there is the proper use of the word hate.
My friend, hate is a strong word. Maybe you dislike it when he clips his toenails in bed. His table manners may need some fine tuning. Possibly his politics rub you the wrong way. Are you simply annoyed by the drudgery of everyday life? We all get there every now and again.
I have strong opinions on the use of the word “hate.” We all have unique feelings and preferences on many fronts. Differences in opinion should be respected. Differences in life choices should be accepted. These should not be love-hate issues. Hate is a choice, one that should not be made lightly.
Intentional malicious behaviors, now those are to be hated. That and oatmeal. I hate oatmeal. Now there is the proper use of the word hate.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Watching Falling Apples
“God wants us to have fun in church,” my teen whispered to me as she played tic-tac-toe with her sister during the sermon one Sunday. The stern look instantly melted off my face. I got an A in Debate in college, but I had no come back for this one.
It’s an acceptable practice to knit, crochet or needlepoint during a conversation. No one questions the ability of the knitter to multi-task. They can count rows, switch stitches and thoughtfully concentrate on the stories and conversations around them.
I find no problem with tic-tac-toe in church.
We live in a multi-tasking society. I often dream of a day when I can turn off that switch and return to the carefree single-focused days of my youth. I thought perhaps that was called “retirement,” but to hear my Mom tell it, she’s as busy as ever.
Mother, daughter, granddaughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
It’s an acceptable practice to knit, crochet or needlepoint during a conversation. No one questions the ability of the knitter to multi-task. They can count rows, switch stitches and thoughtfully concentrate on the stories and conversations around them.
I find no problem with tic-tac-toe in church.
We live in a multi-tasking society. I often dream of a day when I can turn off that switch and return to the carefree single-focused days of my youth. I thought perhaps that was called “retirement,” but to hear my Mom tell it, she’s as busy as ever.
Mother, daughter, granddaughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving
Today is Columbus Day. A day set aside to honor the founding of
our country. One problem. Christopher Columbus did not discover America. There were already folks living here when he landed.
And I hear he was not terribly nice to them either.
If your definition of Holiday is “day off work,” then I suppose Columbus Day is a holiday, for some.
We have many odd holidays and traditions. I often wonder why we celebrate Birthday’s. Shouldn’t the true celebration of the anniversary of a birth focus on the poor woman who carried the child for 9 months, labored in the delivery room for hours and then couldn’t sit for a week?
I view many of our traditional holidays as simply time to reflect and give thanks for life, liberty and our many good fortunes. I know – that’s Thanksgiving.
our country. One problem. Christopher Columbus did not discover America. There were already folks living here when he landed.
And I hear he was not terribly nice to them either.
If your definition of Holiday is “day off work,” then I suppose Columbus Day is a holiday, for some.
We have many odd holidays and traditions. I often wonder why we celebrate Birthday’s. Shouldn’t the true celebration of the anniversary of a birth focus on the poor woman who carried the child for 9 months, labored in the delivery room for hours and then couldn’t sit for a week?
I view many of our traditional holidays as simply time to reflect and give thanks for life, liberty and our many good fortunes. I know – that’s Thanksgiving.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Summer Dust and Inspiration
“Did you abandon your blog?” Stu e-mailed, “I was a fan.”
No. Life just got in the way for a while.
In my defense, I did spend the summer writing: a bi-monthly e-newsletter APPS & REAC News and Notes, a new company brochure and 2 web articles. I know, boring industry stuff. You want to read the light-hearted Take It From Denise entertainment. I do too.
I really do love to write. I am one of those crazy people you see writing notes when they are driving. But only at red lights. I promise. I keep paper and pen stashed everywhere – in the car, in my purse, in my gym bag. The gym bag is a little dusty right now, I’ll admit. I’m going to dust that off, right after I dust off this blog.
They say writers need inspiration, but I will tell you, I am easily amused. I find inspiration for writing topics everywhere. You need only read my blog to find that out. For me, as a writer, I like to know someone is enjoying themselves reading.
Thanks Stu. I am back to blogging.
No. Life just got in the way for a while.
In my defense, I did spend the summer writing: a bi-monthly e-newsletter APPS & REAC News and Notes, a new company brochure and 2 web articles. I know, boring industry stuff. You want to read the light-hearted Take It From Denise entertainment. I do too.
I really do love to write. I am one of those crazy people you see writing notes when they are driving. But only at red lights. I promise. I keep paper and pen stashed everywhere – in the car, in my purse, in my gym bag. The gym bag is a little dusty right now, I’ll admit. I’m going to dust that off, right after I dust off this blog.
They say writers need inspiration, but I will tell you, I am easily amused. I find inspiration for writing topics everywhere. You need only read my blog to find that out. For me, as a writer, I like to know someone is enjoying themselves reading.
Thanks Stu. I am back to blogging.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tax Day - Thelma and Louise Style
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?
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?
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.
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