Suddenly.
Where had I been for the last 10 years? Why hadn't I noticed? What was I (NOT) thinking?
And now how do I fix it right now, this minute? I must do it right now. I am already 10 years behind. TEN YEARS! How could this happen? Did it happen suddenly or subtly?
Have any of you business owners/leaders ever felt this way? Everything was running along smoothly and all of a sudden you see something new that every competitor is doing, but you hadn't noticed it before today. And now that you have noticed it, you see it everywhere. Your numbers had dropped off but you blamed it on the economy. But now that you have opened your eyes, it wasn't the economy. It was you. You quit trying. You gave up. You took your business for granted.
That just happened to me. I was going along my merry way speaking consistently 70-80 times a year. Getting rave reviews. My marketing plan was simple: Do a great job and when referrals come in be polite, say "yes" and do a good job for them, too. And I was so proud of myself for going beyond the call of duty. I was sending out thank-you letters. Wow!
I knew my web page needed updating, but I was too busy. When I created the web page, back in the day, I was on the cutting edge. Not many speakers had one. Well, I didn't pay attention. Obviously. Because the next time I looked up it was 1o years later and everyone had a elaborate web page with bells, whistles, animation. Twits, Blogs. Linked in and logged on. I wanted to bury my head in computer chips and gigabytes. "I am behind. I can't catch up. I should quit. I am too old. I don't know how. I want to cry."
Have you ever felt that way? I called a friend (one of 3) and whined into her answering machine. I'm glad she didn't call back right away because it gave me time to stew in my misery. I have always been a "can do" person. What had happened to me?
It took me 4 days of soul searching. I waffled between deciding whether it was that I couldn't or I didn't want to. It was a combination. I didn't want to because I couldn't because I didn't know how. Effort. This was going to take an enormous amount of effort. And to be honest it has been years since I had to put forth effort.
It is cathartic to bear your soul.
But here I am 5 days later. I have shaken the computer chips and gigabytes out of my hair. I have joined face book, I have a blog, I am linked in, and I have found someone to help me update my web page, and it really wasn't hard at all. (I had wondered if it was all that hard how did those drug dealers and porn people figure it out???) Well it seem as a lot has changed while I was asleep at the microphone. No longer do you have to write in DOS. There are now web page templates. Click and you're done. Click and blog. Click and tweet. Click and a picture appears. Click and you have video. This isn’t bad.
The only problem I foresee is if somebody tweets do I really have to tell them what I am doing?
Who would care? And if I don't blog for a while, will people know that I am just sitting home bored, waiting for my next inspiration? Do I really want people to know that much about me?
I just checked my rating. No tweets, No followers. All's safe for now.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Thanksgiving Disaster
Well, it's time for Thanksgiving again. Another bird, another family gathering. I love it! I decided to revisit one of my favorite Thanksgiving stories from several years and husbands ago. Hope you enjoy!
Iam 47 years old and one would think that any woman of that age would have cooked many a Thanksgiving turkey, but because of family dynamics and traditions, I never had to cook the Big Bird. For years I went to my mother’s or one of my sister’s houses for Thanksgiving day, as that was our tradition. But last year, following my husband’s mother’s death, I decided I would invite his whole family over, hoping to make their first Thanksgiving without their mother less painful.
My last husband (MLH)came from a big family: six brothers and sisters, complete with spouses, children, and strays they picked up along the way. So I of course shopped for the biggest turkey I could find. It weighed 32 pounds. I thought nothing of it. So much for insight.
Well, the instructions said you should thaw it in the refrigerator for so many days per pound. So for 2 weeks I lived with that monster in the refrigerator. MLH had to help me move it around as it was so big. When he was out of town, I had to invite the neighbors over to help. By the time you put a pan under it , it took up a whole shelf and I also had to take out the shelf above it so it would fit. Each day we took out Big Bird, turned him over, drained his tray, and put him back.
Finally the big day arrived. Now, mind you, I had already spent more quality time with this bird than I had with my own child, but the end was near. I was, shall we say, “hopeful”.
I hoisted the turkey onto the counter, cut off his plastic wrapping and looked at him. He was not what I expected. Sort of like a blind date. His color was “poor”- a descriptive term used by nurses when they call the doctor up at home to tell him he ought to hurry to the hospital. He had little flat spots where his weight had rested, and blotchy skin. I spread open his legs hoping to see the little package of giblets all my sisters had warned me about, but didn’t see a thing. I reached inside his “cavity” (such an aesthetic term) to pull out his package of giblets. Nothing. I reached in further. Nothing . I explored. Nothing. I realized that this was the most intimate thing I had ever done with some one I was not married to. I probed. Nothing. My reached as far as I could. My hand materialized at his neck opening. I was now wearing a very large turkey bracelet. But, still no package. Well, OK, I could get more giblets from the store.
Next the instructions told me to rub his body with butter. A cold pale huge blimp with goose(turkey?) bumps getting an oil rub down. I momentarily had a flashback to a bad date, on the beach, circa '68. I shivered. But then I saw it. My turkey had a broken leg. Now the question was. When did it break? Was this a pre- or post mortem injury? I’m a nurse- it makes a difference. I pictured this 32 pound hulk limping around the barnyard dragging his left leg. Pain? Infection? Blood poisioning? Gangrene? Pulmonary embolism? I decided, “I ain’t eating any of this!”, but in honor of Julia , “What they don’t know in the dining room won’t hurt them.” I applied a small splint to the broken bone, and off he went to the oven.
I went to the store and bought a package of giblets. I was to “boil them until tender with salt and pepper”. Rocket science. Now I was bored. And I had thought this was going to be a challenge. I had a least an hour with nothing else to do. So I went up to my office where I felt much more at home.
Do you know how, sometimes, when you get real involved in work, how you lose all track of time? Please, tell me it’s not just me. Tell me that you do it to!!
Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the smoke alarm worked. Well, actually, there is double good news. K& W cafeteria was open on Thanksgiving Day. And our insurance covered smoke damage. Wonder if you can buy homemaker reputation insurance?
The next year MLH’s family decided to repay the invitation. I don’t have to cook. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
And somewhere in heaven, God is smiling. All’s right with His world.
Iam 47 years old and one would think that any woman of that age would have cooked many a Thanksgiving turkey, but because of family dynamics and traditions, I never had to cook the Big Bird. For years I went to my mother’s or one of my sister’s houses for Thanksgiving day, as that was our tradition. But last year, following my husband’s mother’s death, I decided I would invite his whole family over, hoping to make their first Thanksgiving without their mother less painful.
My last husband (MLH)came from a big family: six brothers and sisters, complete with spouses, children, and strays they picked up along the way. So I of course shopped for the biggest turkey I could find. It weighed 32 pounds. I thought nothing of it. So much for insight.
Well, the instructions said you should thaw it in the refrigerator for so many days per pound. So for 2 weeks I lived with that monster in the refrigerator. MLH had to help me move it around as it was so big. When he was out of town, I had to invite the neighbors over to help. By the time you put a pan under it , it took up a whole shelf and I also had to take out the shelf above it so it would fit. Each day we took out Big Bird, turned him over, drained his tray, and put him back.
Finally the big day arrived. Now, mind you, I had already spent more quality time with this bird than I had with my own child, but the end was near. I was, shall we say, “hopeful”.
I hoisted the turkey onto the counter, cut off his plastic wrapping and looked at him. He was not what I expected. Sort of like a blind date. His color was “poor”- a descriptive term used by nurses when they call the doctor up at home to tell him he ought to hurry to the hospital. He had little flat spots where his weight had rested, and blotchy skin. I spread open his legs hoping to see the little package of giblets all my sisters had warned me about, but didn’t see a thing. I reached inside his “cavity” (such an aesthetic term) to pull out his package of giblets. Nothing. I reached in further. Nothing . I explored. Nothing. I realized that this was the most intimate thing I had ever done with some one I was not married to. I probed. Nothing. My reached as far as I could. My hand materialized at his neck opening. I was now wearing a very large turkey bracelet. But, still no package. Well, OK, I could get more giblets from the store.
Next the instructions told me to rub his body with butter. A cold pale huge blimp with goose(turkey?) bumps getting an oil rub down. I momentarily had a flashback to a bad date, on the beach, circa '68. I shivered. But then I saw it. My turkey had a broken leg. Now the question was. When did it break? Was this a pre- or post mortem injury? I’m a nurse- it makes a difference. I pictured this 32 pound hulk limping around the barnyard dragging his left leg. Pain? Infection? Blood poisioning? Gangrene? Pulmonary embolism? I decided, “I ain’t eating any of this!”, but in honor of Julia , “What they don’t know in the dining room won’t hurt them.” I applied a small splint to the broken bone, and off he went to the oven.
I went to the store and bought a package of giblets. I was to “boil them until tender with salt and pepper”. Rocket science. Now I was bored. And I had thought this was going to be a challenge. I had a least an hour with nothing else to do. So I went up to my office where I felt much more at home.
Do you know how, sometimes, when you get real involved in work, how you lose all track of time? Please, tell me it’s not just me. Tell me that you do it to!!
Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the smoke alarm worked. Well, actually, there is double good news. K& W cafeteria was open on Thanksgiving Day. And our insurance covered smoke damage. Wonder if you can buy homemaker reputation insurance?
The next year MLH’s family decided to repay the invitation. I don’t have to cook. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
And somewhere in heaven, God is smiling. All’s right with His world.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Abstinence versus Control- Not Sex! Food
I get so mad sometimes. Alcoholics can quit drinking completely. Drug users can quit taking drugs completely. But we cant give up food completely! I know this because over the years I have tried. I have been so upset about being overweight that I have completely stopped eating. I have gone two, maybe three days then I got so lightheaded I would faint. Not fun.
I have figured out that abstinence is an easier skill to carry off than control. At least for me - especially when it comes to food. It is easier for me to give up all fried foods than to try to eat less fried food. There are two reasons: First how do you try to eat anything. You either eat it or you don't. Secondly, what is less to you. It depends on what is usual for you. If you usually eat fried foods three times a day, you would think that eating it once a day would be less. (Smile- but you can eat the same amount in one sitting as you would normally eat in two!) The problem is that I am using vague terms. If I am serious about doing something, whether it is cleaning the house or eating less of a food item I probably won't succeed unless I am more specific about what I am attempting to do.
What I have found is, for me it is easier to just leave out a food type all together than to try to control it. Bread is an example. If it is around, I want to eat it. For the past few months I have been "back on the wagon", i.e, cutting my calories to 1200 a day and walking at least 30 minutes a day. Notice I didn't say "watching my calories and trying to walk more." Cutting calories to 1200 a day is specific. Walking 30 minutes a day is specific. At the end of the day I can say yes or no. Did I eat 1200 calories or less? yes or no. Did I walk 30 minutes? yes or no. The same thing is true for the food types. Did I eat fried foods? yes or no. Did I eat bread? yes or no.
I have speaking engagements about 2 days a week. I allow myself to eat bread only during the meals where I am the after dinner speaker. See, I am using abstinence, rather than control. I abstain from eating bread 5 days a week. That means I don't buy it, don't keep it in the house, don't pick up a sandwich at the airport, don't have toast with breakfast, etc.
Our minds are funny things. We can find a loophole in a good plan better than a high priced lawyer when we want to get away with something. Here's what I mean about being specific. For some of us, saying that we get to eat bread during 2 meals a week is pretty clear. For others, we start plotting... "she didn't say how big a piece! A loaf! She didn't how many! Ok I can eat 4 rolls!"
Only you know you. Can you be trusted? Or will you search out the loophole and squirm through it?
20 pounds down and counting... Bobbie
I have figured out that abstinence is an easier skill to carry off than control. At least for me - especially when it comes to food. It is easier for me to give up all fried foods than to try to eat less fried food. There are two reasons: First how do you try to eat anything. You either eat it or you don't. Secondly, what is less to you. It depends on what is usual for you. If you usually eat fried foods three times a day, you would think that eating it once a day would be less. (Smile- but you can eat the same amount in one sitting as you would normally eat in two!) The problem is that I am using vague terms. If I am serious about doing something, whether it is cleaning the house or eating less of a food item I probably won't succeed unless I am more specific about what I am attempting to do.
What I have found is, for me it is easier to just leave out a food type all together than to try to control it. Bread is an example. If it is around, I want to eat it. For the past few months I have been "back on the wagon", i.e, cutting my calories to 1200 a day and walking at least 30 minutes a day. Notice I didn't say "watching my calories and trying to walk more." Cutting calories to 1200 a day is specific. Walking 30 minutes a day is specific. At the end of the day I can say yes or no. Did I eat 1200 calories or less? yes or no. Did I walk 30 minutes? yes or no. The same thing is true for the food types. Did I eat fried foods? yes or no. Did I eat bread? yes or no.
I have speaking engagements about 2 days a week. I allow myself to eat bread only during the meals where I am the after dinner speaker. See, I am using abstinence, rather than control. I abstain from eating bread 5 days a week. That means I don't buy it, don't keep it in the house, don't pick up a sandwich at the airport, don't have toast with breakfast, etc.
Our minds are funny things. We can find a loophole in a good plan better than a high priced lawyer when we want to get away with something. Here's what I mean about being specific. For some of us, saying that we get to eat bread during 2 meals a week is pretty clear. For others, we start plotting... "she didn't say how big a piece! A loaf! She didn't how many! Ok I can eat 4 rolls!"
Only you know you. Can you be trusted? Or will you search out the loophole and squirm through it?
20 pounds down and counting... Bobbie
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