That's my tribute to The Carpenters. Bill made a mix CD that includes "Top of the World" and left it in the car, and I like to drive around town playing it, getting all high on life like Ned Flanders. I looked for a Carpenters CD at the library, but they didn't have one on the shelves, and I didn't care enough to order it.
The Carpenters are so cheesy. But I like them. They remind me of my childhood.
Check out the dress Karen Carpenter is wearing in this "Rainy Days and Mondays" video. I'm pretty sure my mom's wedding dress was exactly like that, but in white. Also is Karen wearing the world's first Bump-It?
It's sad she died from an eating disorder.
Speaking of the 70s, a couple of nights ago I had a dream in which I owned multiple macrame wall hangings. I mentioned this on Facebook, and a discussion started about good old seventies tackiness. The director of the community theater plays mentioned that the theater has a macrame wall decoration in their props department, which was from her mom's living room.
Now, you might recall that I have been charged with writing an interactive murder mystery play for the community theater. Originally Bill suggested the play take place in the 1930s, I guess because the thirties are all noir and ... murderous? Anyway, I now think the play should be set in the 1970s, just so we can incorporate that macrame wall hanging. Could it be "Who stole the macrame wall hanging?" because then anybody who thought it was ugly (which would be, you know, everybody with the sense of sight) would have a motive to rip it down and destroy it. But since it's supposed to be a murder mystery, could the plot center around the expert knot-typing skills of an experienced macrame artist who skillfully strangles her victims?
Dammit, I just gave the ending away.
The whole chin hair thing is because ... really?! Why do I have hair on my chin? And I saw an Oprah once that said that chin hairs were supposed to start sprouting in your forties. I effing started finding hairs on my chin when I was sixteen.
I blame it on my Italian heritage. The Italians are a very hairy people. And the thing is, if my Italian heritage had also come with a lot of delicious family recipes for pasta sauce and cannoli, I might be willing to put up with the whole chin hair thing as a fair trade. But it seems that my grandmother used canned sauce like everybody else, so the only Italian thing I got was a tendency toward unwanted facial hair.
And it's like, it gets worse all the time. First I only had a few chin hairs, but now I feel like I have to be hyper-vigilant with the tweezers all the time.
And also it did actually rain today.
This craptacular post is like a placeholder for a giveaway post that I'm too lazy to write right now because it involves pictures. And plus I decided that I'd just wait to start the giveaway Monday because people don't read blogs as much over the weekend.
But stay tuned, because it's my very first giveaway from an actual sponsor-type brand, and not just "let's see what kind of unwanted crap I can hand out on my blog" like my last giveaway.
Have a great weekend, everybody!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Right Now
I'm thinking that at the end of this year, when I get to my 365 blog posts, I will use one of those services that advertises that they can bind your blog into a book. I've never been successful at keeping a journal, and a year of blog posts is the closest I'm ever going to come to giving my grandchildren documentation of what my life was like. Now (1) my grandchildren probably won't care, and (2) in the future it will probably be easier to preserve content on the Internet than to keep track of a book.
Anyway, in the spirit of preserving memories for posterity, I will tell you how I feel exactly at this time, on this day in July 2011, when I am trying to juggle my new freelance gig with my home life.
This. Is. Hard.
It's like I had this old basic framework for all the days of my life:
Get up. Feed cat. Clean kitchen. Feed self and child. Go to gym. Perform various chores and errands. Write blog post. Eat lunch. Fun afternoon activity with child. Make dinner. Bedtime routine for child. Leisure time for self. (With mundane activities like going to the bathroom and copious Internet surfing peppered throughout.)
While of course that is over-simplifying my day-to-day life by a lot, because obviously there are many, many variations on the activities of a typical day, my point is that I felt busy enough just keeping up with the rhythms of basic life maintenance activities.
Now it's like I have that same framework, but I'm trying to cram in working among all those existing responsibilities:
Get up. Feed cat. Dammit I should be working. Write blog post. Feed self and child. Decide to skip gym because dammit I should be working. Plop child in front of television while I work. Shoot, it's already lunchtime and I haven't accomplished enough. After lunch try to get child engaged in some activity more wholesome than television, but which makes a giant mess that I have to clean up. Work and stuff, possible errands and chores. Oh no, I maybe should think about making dinner for us. Eat dinner. Clean up after dinner. Cram in more work while Nathan runs around with Bill. Crap, why is Nathan still up? I need to get him to bed. I suck as a parent and an employee. Get Nathan ready for bed, read books, get him to sleep. Possibly force self up to do more work if I have any brain cells left. Oh shoot I never folded the laundry and every room of my house is mes--CONK OUT.
I was talking about my concerns with a friend of mine who I really admire for her ability to work a full-time job from home with two young kids. She said her secret is having really low standards for everything: cleanliness, laundry, meals, whatever. I feel like if you looked around my house right now you'd think my standards were pretty low. Most of the rooms are messy and there's a big wad of clean laundry waiting to be folded. I'm failing at the gym, and it's a rare day that all three meals are prepared at home. I use the TV as a babysitter.
I realize that in saying all this I come across as a whiner, and that is because I am a whiner. I wanted to work, and now I have work, and it's pretty awesome, but it's not without its challenging transition period.
But I could sit around and whine, or I could do something about it.
I choose whining.
Just kidding, but I'm actually not going to make any dramatic changes right now because this influx of work is only temporary. However, my goal for the future is to get a steady enough stream of work that I can justify making some serious changes around here.
The thing is, that goal is actually not new. My goal when I was pregnant with Nathan was to quit my full-time job and cobble together enough freelance work that I could afford a part-time babysitter and a cleaning lady. Well, plans changed and I worked out a part-time deal with my employer instead, and then I went full-time, and then I quit altogether and was a schlub for 2 1/2 years, and then ... now. I don't regret the path I took at all. I'm not usually one for inspirational quotes, but:
Anyway, in the spirit of preserving memories for posterity, I will tell you how I feel exactly at this time, on this day in July 2011, when I am trying to juggle my new freelance gig with my home life.
This. Is. Hard.
It's like I had this old basic framework for all the days of my life:
Get up. Feed cat. Clean kitchen. Feed self and child. Go to gym. Perform various chores and errands. Write blog post. Eat lunch. Fun afternoon activity with child. Make dinner. Bedtime routine for child. Leisure time for self. (With mundane activities like going to the bathroom and copious Internet surfing peppered throughout.)
While of course that is over-simplifying my day-to-day life by a lot, because obviously there are many, many variations on the activities of a typical day, my point is that I felt busy enough just keeping up with the rhythms of basic life maintenance activities.
Now it's like I have that same framework, but I'm trying to cram in working among all those existing responsibilities:
Get up. Feed cat. Dammit I should be working. Write blog post. Feed self and child. Decide to skip gym because dammit I should be working. Plop child in front of television while I work. Shoot, it's already lunchtime and I haven't accomplished enough. After lunch try to get child engaged in some activity more wholesome than television, but which makes a giant mess that I have to clean up. Work and stuff, possible errands and chores. Oh no, I maybe should think about making dinner for us. Eat dinner. Clean up after dinner. Cram in more work while Nathan runs around with Bill. Crap, why is Nathan still up? I need to get him to bed. I suck as a parent and an employee. Get Nathan ready for bed, read books, get him to sleep. Possibly force self up to do more work if I have any brain cells left. Oh shoot I never folded the laundry and every room of my house is mes--CONK OUT.
I was talking about my concerns with a friend of mine who I really admire for her ability to work a full-time job from home with two young kids. She said her secret is having really low standards for everything: cleanliness, laundry, meals, whatever. I feel like if you looked around my house right now you'd think my standards were pretty low. Most of the rooms are messy and there's a big wad of clean laundry waiting to be folded. I'm failing at the gym, and it's a rare day that all three meals are prepared at home. I use the TV as a babysitter.
I realize that in saying all this I come across as a whiner, and that is because I am a whiner. I wanted to work, and now I have work, and it's pretty awesome, but it's not without its challenging transition period.
But I could sit around and whine, or I could do something about it.
I choose whining.
Just kidding, but I'm actually not going to make any dramatic changes right now because this influx of work is only temporary. However, my goal for the future is to get a steady enough stream of work that I can justify making some serious changes around here.
The thing is, that goal is actually not new. My goal when I was pregnant with Nathan was to quit my full-time job and cobble together enough freelance work that I could afford a part-time babysitter and a cleaning lady. Well, plans changed and I worked out a part-time deal with my employer instead, and then I went full-time, and then I quit altogether and was a schlub for 2 1/2 years, and then ... now. I don't regret the path I took at all. I'm not usually one for inspirational quotes, but:
I don't know who Asha Tyson is. And those aren't my nails. Oh, a Google search tells me Asha Tyson is a dumb motivational speaker. My name is Matt Foley, and I live in a van down by the river!
Anyway, I am happy, but I have challenges. And I have goals. And I have a lot of work to do, so I should not be writing this blog post. So bye.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Late-Night Thoughts
Well, I don't know if 10:15 p.m. qualifies as "late-night," but it feels like the middle of the night to me.
I'm a little bit swamped with work. Which is pretty awesome. And, fingers crossed, it looks like there's another small freelance project coming up behind this one.
The office is officially purple. I love it. I hope to go and order my rolltop desk sometime this week.
I am in love with Pilot Hi-Tec C pens from Tokyo Pen Shop. If you want a really reliable, non-skipping gel pen with a really fine point (0.3, 0.4, or 0.5 mm), these are the pens for you.
A woman in my general circle of friends had a baby, so I signed up to bring her a dinner tonight. It is so fun to cook non-Weight Watchers things for a change. I made her macaroni and cheese (not the Kraft kind), a fruit salad, bread, salad (okay that was the bag kind), and a strawberry pie.
I had three ridiculous breakdowns today: (1) When Nathan tried to blockade the door while I was in the shower by taking about approximately 1/3 of our belongings and piling them in front of the door, (2) Holding Nathan while he went to sleep and thinking about the time he passed out at the children's museum and we had to go to the hospital in an ambulance, and (3) freaking out about having to rent a car and drive all around Southern California by myself in a couple of weeks (even though I used to effing live in Southern California and drive around there by myself). Oh, and (3a) Worrying that I'll have to fly back from SoCal early because I will miss Nathan so much, which would mean missing BlogHer.
My house is so messy. I can't get a single room under control. It's so hot. I wish Nathan had gone to camp this week.
Thursday we're going to the beach.
I'm a little bit swamped with work. Which is pretty awesome. And, fingers crossed, it looks like there's another small freelance project coming up behind this one.
The office is officially purple. I love it. I hope to go and order my rolltop desk sometime this week.
I am in love with Pilot Hi-Tec C pens from Tokyo Pen Shop. If you want a really reliable, non-skipping gel pen with a really fine point (0.3, 0.4, or 0.5 mm), these are the pens for you.
A woman in my general circle of friends had a baby, so I signed up to bring her a dinner tonight. It is so fun to cook non-Weight Watchers things for a change. I made her macaroni and cheese (not the Kraft kind), a fruit salad, bread, salad (okay that was the bag kind), and a strawberry pie.
I had three ridiculous breakdowns today: (1) When Nathan tried to blockade the door while I was in the shower by taking about approximately 1/3 of our belongings and piling them in front of the door, (2) Holding Nathan while he went to sleep and thinking about the time he passed out at the children's museum and we had to go to the hospital in an ambulance, and (3) freaking out about having to rent a car and drive all around Southern California by myself in a couple of weeks (even though I used to effing live in Southern California and drive around there by myself). Oh, and (3a) Worrying that I'll have to fly back from SoCal early because I will miss Nathan so much, which would mean missing BlogHer.
My house is so messy. I can't get a single room under control. It's so hot. I wish Nathan had gone to camp this week.
Thursday we're going to the beach.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Brands & Bloggers Summit 2011 Recap
As you'll recall from my previous posts, my friend Farrah gave me her free ticket for Saturday's Brands & Bloggers Summit in downtown Chicago. As you'll also recall, if you have a really long attention span and got through this post, I was having a really hard time finding the right outfit to wear to accommodate the weather, the train commute, and the conference's business casual dress code. I worked tirelessly (slight exaggeration) to put together an acceptable outfit, down to purse and water bottle.
And the first thing my husband says to me Saturday morning is, "That's business casual?!"
In his defense, we were standing in a darkened room, so he was probably confusing my brand-new frilly purple tank top made of rayon and my slightly-dressier-cut black capris with my old casual cotton frilly purple tank top and more-casually-cut black capris. Like there isn't a world of difference.
Anyway, yadda yadda yadda husband woes, blah blah blah train commute, something something blog conference.
No seriously, the conference began with a really interesting panel. Half the panelists were fairly successful heavy hitters in the Chicago mom blogosphere, and the other half were brand reps charged with doing blogger relations for their respective companies. The topic: how to find common ground and bridge the gap between bloggers who are so passionate about their work and PR reps who are so focused on the cold, hard, bottom line spreadsheet results.
The panel was two hours long and a lot was said, but the gist of it was that bloggers need to be picky and only form partnerships with companies who are a good fit for them. An analogy was made to a dance; sometimes you find the right partner right off the bat, and sometimes you have to look around a little to find the perfect match. You should not just go and be a shill for any company willing to hand you free stuff. That will make you come across as inauthentic, and nobody will listen to you. Not to mention you're sort of compromising your integrity.
The panel also discussed more practical issues like whether bloggers or brands should take the first step (answer: it depends). Many of the panelists stressed the importance of finding your blogging niche, so that there are logical brand connections with your blog. (For example, if you write a cat blog, a natural brand partnership might be with Purina.)
The brand reps specifically pointed out that brands aren't necessarily looking for the blog with the most hits or the person with the most Twitter followers when they look for blog partners. They'd rather partner with somebody who has a very loyal following and a lot of influence on his/her readers. Unfortunately, loyalty and influence are difficult to quantify, and since brands are so focused on numbers and results, many companies find blogger relations to be a confusing nightmare. It kind of remains to be seen whether more and more companies will jump on the blogger relations bandwagon, or move on to another form of advertising that's a little easier to measure.
So, that was the first panel. Next we had networking time, where you were supposed to go around to the different sponsor tables and get a sticker on your badge from each one. (You could only enter the raffle at the end if you had all the stickers.) I got some cool free swag, like some Flat-Out Flatbread, a Nintendo DS game from Ubisoft, and a bluetooth.
After the networking time we had lunch, which was a sandwich bar with the Flat-Out Flatbreads. And then Sara Evans, a PR expert, talked about FTC regulations for disclosure when you get free stuff or money from a company you're writing about on your blog. Then local news personality Nancy Loo talked about how you could get yourself and your blog featured in traditional media, you know like if you are an expert on something and the news could interview you. (One of her tips was to have a professional-looking profile picture on Twitter, and she specifically said not to use a cat picture. Shit.) Finally children's singer Miss Lori talked about how to make yourself look good on camera when you're interviewed.
I went out for tapas with some of the other bloggers after the conference, because we had to (a) eat and (b) kill time before the after-party at the John Hancock Observatory.
The afterparty had a great view and some fun blue drinks, but I only stayed for a short while because I had to catch the train home. I was absolutely exhausted.
Part of my exhaustion was due to the fact that it had been a long day and I was walking around in uncomfortable shoes. And part of it was the overstimulation of conversing with eight bazillion networky people, which is not my strong suit. But mostly I think I was tired because the talks at the conference really got me (over)thinking about where I am in life and where I want to be.
Now, the conference was called the Brands & Bloggers Summit, and so naturally the panels and talks were going to be about building brand-blogger relationships. It would be really disappointing if the panels and talks weren't about building brand-blogger relationships. And I am fascinated by the evolving technology and the way that various sociological phenomena evolve with it. I'm curious about how the whole brand-blogger relations thing will play out in the future.
BUT ... I guess I'm just not sure how much the issue of brand-blogger relations applies to me. And when I say "I'm not sure," I really mean I'm not sure. What are my goals for this blog? Do I want to put in the effort to hustle and network my way into possibly getting money or free stuff? Or am I just creating this blog for the love of writing?
And I want to say that I'm just doing this for the love of writing, because mostly I am. Except, obviously if I were just writing for the sake of writing, I could write in a journal and not put my thoughts on the Internet. I obviously put my thoughts on the Internet because I want people to read my writing. And if I want as many people as possible to read my writing, I have to put in the effort and go out and schmooze and make connections.
Now, that doesn't mean I necessarily need to form an alliance with a brand in exchange for compensation. But, let's face it, it would be nice to make a little money or at least get some free products in exchange for the hours I spend writing this blog every week. There isn't a blogger in the world who wouldn't want to be approached by some PR rep and be told, "Hey, we'd like to pay you for all that drivel you pull out of your ass on your blog every day."
But, unless that PR rep just flat-out came to me and made me an offer I couldn't refuse, I don't know if I'm willing to work to generate ad revenue or promote my brand. Some of the people at the conference just seemed so desperate to get that big blogging break, and they were throwing out their names and rapid-fire tweeting the whole time. @this. #that. At one point the click-click-click of everybody's keyboards became unnerving.
Obnoxious keyboarding issues aside, I don't knock anybody for hustling to make a living or promote their business (and in a lot of cases, these blogs are people's businesses). I just don't know if I care that I personally won't make a fortune off of blogging. I know this sounds naive and hippyish, but I kind of feel like I'm more interested in the human connections than the business connections. I've met some interesting friends through blogging, people who really seem genuine and authentic. And I know I'm not the first to say this, but I miss the days when mom blogs were raw, emotional confessions about motherhood, and not just contests for who can out-perfect each other's lives, alternated with advertisements for products.
The funny thing is, I think the people on the panel and I are sort of on the same page here. They agree with me that bloggers really need to safeguard against coming across as inauthentic corporate shills with no integrity. However, although the big-time bloggers and I have the same viewpoint, we've arrived at it from different angles. Those people can put the integrity of their blogs before the almighty dollar because they've already made it and can afford to be choosy about their brand alliances. I also don't place a high priority on brand alliances, but it's because I'm at the bottom and don't care if I stay there. It's the people in the middle who are hustling to form any alliance, and are in the most danger of compromising their integrity. It's also these people in the middle who are probably the least happy about where their blogs are right now.
Well, I want to be happy. The last thing I need bringing me down is a dumb old blog. I recognize that with blogs, like in Hollywood, there is only room for a few A-listers, and the rest of us are left to toil somewhere along the continuum between anonymous and famous. And since I have such a small chance of ever being huge, I'd rather relax and enjoy my time at the bottom. To continue with my Hollywood analogy: Since I'll never win an Oscar, I'd rather just act in community theater for the fun of it. I'd rather make my money editing textbooks. Don't quit your day job and all that.
Overall, I thought the conference was interesting and thought-provoking. I enjoyed meeting new people and getting some fun swag. And, as I said, it will be interesting to see how this whole brand-blogger trend plays out. I could end up eating my words.
I'm also a little nervous about the fact that if this one day conference led me to question myself to my very core, I might drop dead by the end of BlogHer. But at least at BlogHer I have my own fancy hotel room and a beach to retreat to.
And the first thing my husband says to me Saturday morning is, "That's business casual?!"
In his defense, we were standing in a darkened room, so he was probably confusing my brand-new frilly purple tank top made of rayon and my slightly-dressier-cut black capris with my old casual cotton frilly purple tank top and more-casually-cut black capris. Like there isn't a world of difference.
Anyway, yadda yadda yadda husband woes, blah blah blah train commute, something something blog conference.
No seriously, the conference began with a really interesting panel. Half the panelists were fairly successful heavy hitters in the Chicago mom blogosphere, and the other half were brand reps charged with doing blogger relations for their respective companies. The topic: how to find common ground and bridge the gap between bloggers who are so passionate about their work and PR reps who are so focused on the cold, hard, bottom line spreadsheet results.
The panel was two hours long and a lot was said, but the gist of it was that bloggers need to be picky and only form partnerships with companies who are a good fit for them. An analogy was made to a dance; sometimes you find the right partner right off the bat, and sometimes you have to look around a little to find the perfect match. You should not just go and be a shill for any company willing to hand you free stuff. That will make you come across as inauthentic, and nobody will listen to you. Not to mention you're sort of compromising your integrity.
The panel also discussed more practical issues like whether bloggers or brands should take the first step (answer: it depends). Many of the panelists stressed the importance of finding your blogging niche, so that there are logical brand connections with your blog. (For example, if you write a cat blog, a natural brand partnership might be with Purina.)
The brand reps specifically pointed out that brands aren't necessarily looking for the blog with the most hits or the person with the most Twitter followers when they look for blog partners. They'd rather partner with somebody who has a very loyal following and a lot of influence on his/her readers. Unfortunately, loyalty and influence are difficult to quantify, and since brands are so focused on numbers and results, many companies find blogger relations to be a confusing nightmare. It kind of remains to be seen whether more and more companies will jump on the blogger relations bandwagon, or move on to another form of advertising that's a little easier to measure.
So, that was the first panel. Next we had networking time, where you were supposed to go around to the different sponsor tables and get a sticker on your badge from each one. (You could only enter the raffle at the end if you had all the stickers.) I got some cool free swag, like some Flat-Out Flatbread, a Nintendo DS game from Ubisoft, and a bluetooth.
After the networking time we had lunch, which was a sandwich bar with the Flat-Out Flatbreads. And then Sara Evans, a PR expert, talked about FTC regulations for disclosure when you get free stuff or money from a company you're writing about on your blog. Then local news personality Nancy Loo talked about how you could get yourself and your blog featured in traditional media, you know like if you are an expert on something and the news could interview you. (One of her tips was to have a professional-looking profile picture on Twitter, and she specifically said not to use a cat picture. Shit.) Finally children's singer Miss Lori talked about how to make yourself look good on camera when you're interviewed.
I went out for tapas with some of the other bloggers after the conference, because we had to (a) eat and (b) kill time before the after-party at the John Hancock Observatory.
The afterparty had a great view and some fun blue drinks, but I only stayed for a short while because I had to catch the train home. I was absolutely exhausted.
Part of my exhaustion was due to the fact that it had been a long day and I was walking around in uncomfortable shoes. And part of it was the overstimulation of conversing with eight bazillion networky people, which is not my strong suit. But mostly I think I was tired because the talks at the conference really got me (over)thinking about where I am in life and where I want to be.
Now, the conference was called the Brands & Bloggers Summit, and so naturally the panels and talks were going to be about building brand-blogger relationships. It would be really disappointing if the panels and talks weren't about building brand-blogger relationships. And I am fascinated by the evolving technology and the way that various sociological phenomena evolve with it. I'm curious about how the whole brand-blogger relations thing will play out in the future.
BUT ... I guess I'm just not sure how much the issue of brand-blogger relations applies to me. And when I say "I'm not sure," I really mean I'm not sure. What are my goals for this blog? Do I want to put in the effort to hustle and network my way into possibly getting money or free stuff? Or am I just creating this blog for the love of writing?
And I want to say that I'm just doing this for the love of writing, because mostly I am. Except, obviously if I were just writing for the sake of writing, I could write in a journal and not put my thoughts on the Internet. I obviously put my thoughts on the Internet because I want people to read my writing. And if I want as many people as possible to read my writing, I have to put in the effort and go out and schmooze and make connections.
Now, that doesn't mean I necessarily need to form an alliance with a brand in exchange for compensation. But, let's face it, it would be nice to make a little money or at least get some free products in exchange for the hours I spend writing this blog every week. There isn't a blogger in the world who wouldn't want to be approached by some PR rep and be told, "Hey, we'd like to pay you for all that drivel you pull out of your ass on your blog every day."
But, unless that PR rep just flat-out came to me and made me an offer I couldn't refuse, I don't know if I'm willing to work to generate ad revenue or promote my brand. Some of the people at the conference just seemed so desperate to get that big blogging break, and they were throwing out their names and rapid-fire tweeting the whole time. @this. #that. At one point the click-click-click of everybody's keyboards became unnerving.
Obnoxious keyboarding issues aside, I don't knock anybody for hustling to make a living or promote their business (and in a lot of cases, these blogs are people's businesses). I just don't know if I care that I personally won't make a fortune off of blogging. I know this sounds naive and hippyish, but I kind of feel like I'm more interested in the human connections than the business connections. I've met some interesting friends through blogging, people who really seem genuine and authentic. And I know I'm not the first to say this, but I miss the days when mom blogs were raw, emotional confessions about motherhood, and not just contests for who can out-perfect each other's lives, alternated with advertisements for products.
The funny thing is, I think the people on the panel and I are sort of on the same page here. They agree with me that bloggers really need to safeguard against coming across as inauthentic corporate shills with no integrity. However, although the big-time bloggers and I have the same viewpoint, we've arrived at it from different angles. Those people can put the integrity of their blogs before the almighty dollar because they've already made it and can afford to be choosy about their brand alliances. I also don't place a high priority on brand alliances, but it's because I'm at the bottom and don't care if I stay there. It's the people in the middle who are hustling to form any alliance, and are in the most danger of compromising their integrity. It's also these people in the middle who are probably the least happy about where their blogs are right now.
Well, I want to be happy. The last thing I need bringing me down is a dumb old blog. I recognize that with blogs, like in Hollywood, there is only room for a few A-listers, and the rest of us are left to toil somewhere along the continuum between anonymous and famous. And since I have such a small chance of ever being huge, I'd rather relax and enjoy my time at the bottom. To continue with my Hollywood analogy: Since I'll never win an Oscar, I'd rather just act in community theater for the fun of it. I'd rather make my money editing textbooks. Don't quit your day job and all that.
Overall, I thought the conference was interesting and thought-provoking. I enjoyed meeting new people and getting some fun swag. And, as I said, it will be interesting to see how this whole brand-blogger trend plays out. I could end up eating my words.
I'm also a little nervous about the fact that if this one day conference led me to question myself to my very core, I might drop dead by the end of BlogHer. But at least at BlogHer I have my own fancy hotel room and a beach to retreat to.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
SuperIma Sunday Check-In: I Thought I Sucked Last Week But Maybe I Kinda Didn't Edition
Phew, what a week! This week had it all ... the crazy ups and downs of adjusting to a new work/life situation, an energy-draining blog conference, fun valuable antique finds ... you name it.
When I sat down to write this post, my first thought was that I didn't do a very good job on my SuperIma goals/plans/whatever this week.
But when I looked back and really thought about, I kind of didn't suck as badly as I thought I did. I said I was going to make a list of chores I wanted done by the end of the week, rather than make a daily to-do list. Well, I kind of made the list, although the week ended and I didn't really get everything done. But, in my defense, when I wrote that list I didn't know I was going to be spending the entire day downtown at a conference Saturday (a.k.a. the last day of the week and the last day to get my weekly list done).
But, as is often the case, I'm finding that I embraced the spirit of that goal even if I didn't exactly fully achieve it. The spirit of the weekly to-do list was If I don't get everything done at the end of the day, that's okay. And I'm definitely adopting that spirit.
Take, for example, the whole laundry situation. Last week I said that I was just going to pile all my folded laundry up on the dining room table. I called it my Clothing Command Center, because all the clothing is centrally-located, in piles organized according to type of garment and owner, so that I can just grab outfits whenever I need them. Off to the gym? Let me just grab some workout pants, a t-shirt, and a sports bra. Nathan's bathtime? I'll just get tonight's pajamas off the dining room table!
I love the Clothing Command Center.
Bill hates the Clothing Command Center. All week, he has been ragging on my piles of clothing in the dining room. He says he wants to have the kind of house where people could just drop in unexpectedly, and having our (clean) underwear on the table prevents us from having a drop-in-guest-friendly house. I say we are not living in a 1950s sitcom, and nobody ever drops in anyway. Wouldn't potential drop-in guests call you on their cell phones before coming over?
Also there's the not-too-minor point that Bill is free to step in and put away the clothing anytime.
Note that it's still there.
Anyway, "put away laundry" was an item on my weekly to-do list, and I didn't get to it. But then again, as I said, I kind of like the Clothing Command Center.
I also talked last week about getting serious on my home office plans. And, as I said in my previous post, the wheels are in motion on the office remodel! And since writing that post, the painter called and I got a definite commitment of Tuesday for the painting. I'll be ordering my roll-top desk by the end of the week! Oh and I guess I need to go and get that poster framed.
Other than the poster framing, my goals for this week are as follows:
So, I'm kind of on a high of juggling work and life, and I want to ride that high as long as possible. Which means my goal this week is to take three minor steps toward securing more freelance work for the future.
And also there's the poster-framing thing. And the rolltop desk-buying thing. And maybe the Clothing Command Center thing, as in I'm not putting away laundry again this week, okay?
Plus, I really hope to finish reading a book this week. I talked awhile back about how, on principle, I was refusing to put my weekly ticket in the library raffle if I didn't actually read a book that week. Well, I have managed to read books and enter the raffle all five weeks, and now this week is the last week and I might have to skip it. There's just something so disappointing about achieving something every single week except one, especially the last one. (Did I ever tell you about the time in elementary school when I was supposed to go to McDonald's for lunch in the teacher's car because I got 100% on my spelling test 30 times in a row, but then I misspelled the word wore on the 30th spelling test? The whole "failure on the last library raffle" situation is kind of like that. In that it's totally disappointing but also totally pointless and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.)
Anyway, I have until Friday to finish a book and submit this week's ticket. Also I may have forgotten to mention this, but I did win a raffle a couple of weeks ago (unfortunately it was a $10 gift card to a restaurant I don't really like, but it came with a candy bar). So I might not be eligible to win another raffle anyway.
Now go visit SuperIma Leigh Ann, and give her your condolences about the end of the Harry Potter movie franchise.
When I sat down to write this post, my first thought was that I didn't do a very good job on my SuperIma goals/plans/whatever this week.
But when I looked back and really thought about, I kind of didn't suck as badly as I thought I did. I said I was going to make a list of chores I wanted done by the end of the week, rather than make a daily to-do list. Well, I kind of made the list, although the week ended and I didn't really get everything done. But, in my defense, when I wrote that list I didn't know I was going to be spending the entire day downtown at a conference Saturday (a.k.a. the last day of the week and the last day to get my weekly list done).
But, as is often the case, I'm finding that I embraced the spirit of that goal even if I didn't exactly fully achieve it. The spirit of the weekly to-do list was If I don't get everything done at the end of the day, that's okay. And I'm definitely adopting that spirit.
Take, for example, the whole laundry situation. Last week I said that I was just going to pile all my folded laundry up on the dining room table. I called it my Clothing Command Center, because all the clothing is centrally-located, in piles organized according to type of garment and owner, so that I can just grab outfits whenever I need them. Off to the gym? Let me just grab some workout pants, a t-shirt, and a sports bra. Nathan's bathtime? I'll just get tonight's pajamas off the dining room table!
I love the Clothing Command Center.
Bill hates the Clothing Command Center. All week, he has been ragging on my piles of clothing in the dining room. He says he wants to have the kind of house where people could just drop in unexpectedly, and having our (clean) underwear on the table prevents us from having a drop-in-guest-friendly house. I say we are not living in a 1950s sitcom, and nobody ever drops in anyway. Wouldn't potential drop-in guests call you on their cell phones before coming over?
Also there's the not-too-minor point that Bill is free to step in and put away the clothing anytime.
Note that it's still there.
Anyway, "put away laundry" was an item on my weekly to-do list, and I didn't get to it. But then again, as I said, I kind of like the Clothing Command Center.
I also talked last week about getting serious on my home office plans. And, as I said in my previous post, the wheels are in motion on the office remodel! And since writing that post, the painter called and I got a definite commitment of Tuesday for the painting. I'll be ordering my roll-top desk by the end of the week! Oh and I guess I need to go and get that poster framed.
Other than the poster framing, my goals for this week are as follows:
So, I'm kind of on a high of juggling work and life, and I want to ride that high as long as possible. Which means my goal this week is to take three minor steps toward securing more freelance work for the future.
And also there's the poster-framing thing. And the rolltop desk-buying thing. And maybe the Clothing Command Center thing, as in I'm not putting away laundry again this week, okay?
Plus, I really hope to finish reading a book this week. I talked awhile back about how, on principle, I was refusing to put my weekly ticket in the library raffle if I didn't actually read a book that week. Well, I have managed to read books and enter the raffle all five weeks, and now this week is the last week and I might have to skip it. There's just something so disappointing about achieving something every single week except one, especially the last one. (Did I ever tell you about the time in elementary school when I was supposed to go to McDonald's for lunch in the teacher's car because I got 100% on my spelling test 30 times in a row, but then I misspelled the word wore on the 30th spelling test? The whole "failure on the last library raffle" situation is kind of like that. In that it's totally disappointing but also totally pointless and meaningless in the grand scheme of things.)
Anyway, I have until Friday to finish a book and submit this week's ticket. Also I may have forgotten to mention this, but I did win a raffle a couple of weeks ago (unfortunately it was a $10 gift card to a restaurant I don't really like, but it came with a candy bar). So I might not be eligible to win another raffle anyway.
Now go visit SuperIma Leigh Ann, and give her your condolences about the end of the Harry Potter movie franchise.
The Post I Should Have Written Friday
Friday kind of rocked.
I woke up before Nathan and worked on my freelance project for about an hour.
Later, after I took Nathan to camp, I went to an estate sale. See, awhile back I became interested in Depression Glass. Essentially, Depression Glass is glassware that was mass-produced and sold very inexpensively around the time of the Great Depression. What I find interesting about Depression Glass is that it is one of those situations where an everyday object has such interesting historical forces behind it. (Bill Bryson's At Home is an entire book about the historical factors behind everyday household objects.) See, around the time of the Great Depression, techniques in mass-production of glassware had just been discovered. The new techniques allowed companies to produce and sell pretty glass objects to people at lower prices, which of course was all most people could afford during the Great Depression.
More interestingly, to me at least, was that pieces of this glassware were given out for free in some of the most unlikely places. Like, the movie theater would have "dish night," and you would get a free dish for buying a movie ticket. This giveaway was, of course, designed to entice people to come into the movie theater, which seems sort of absurd by today's standards because these days people wouldn't go to the movies just to get a free dish. We all have enough dishes now. Also, I can't help but think that the free giveaway plate at today's movie theaters would be some hideous plastic thing with a licensed character on it.
But the dishes given away at movie theaters during the Depression were really pretty, and seemingly totally incongruous with the entertainment industry. You could also get free dishes inside of oatmeal boxes, which also seems really bizarre because wouldn't the dish take up a lot of room in there? Apparently boxes of soap flakes also sometimes contained dishes. Obviously oatmeal and soap are both products that serve as useful cushioning to protect fragile glassware, although I have to imagine that there was still the occasional breakage, leaving the consumer with a box of oatmeal mixed with broken glass. And as an extra added bonus, the glass likely contained lead.
Anyway, I find Depression Glass very interesting. Also I just really like to collect items that remind me of mental health conditions I suffer from. You know, Depression glass? Next up I hope to start collecting Anxiety Rugs.
So ... I signed up awhile back to get email alerts from EstateSales.net whenever there's an estate sale near me. Now, I don't really go out of my way to go to estate sales, because most of the time they are filled with unwanted crap, and they are a little bit sad. It's just kind of disconcerting to look over the sum-total of a person's earthly belongings, imagining that, like yourself, that person spent a huge percentage of her time procuring all these needed items, only to have a bunch of strangers go through her house after she died and buy all that stuff for fifty cents. And it's not the sale of collectibles or large items like furniture that make me sad. You could imagine the person wanting to sell the furniture while she was still alive, because people sell furniture all the time. And you could imagine the person taking great pride in finding an interested owner for her precious collectibles. But what makes me sad is people pouring through all the deceased person's kitchen items or bed linens, items that have no real monetary value, and are no longer useful to the original owner. It's just too much of a reminder that a person has ceased to exist on earth.
My point is, I have mixed feelings about estate sales, which means I will not go more than ten minutes out of my way to get to one. But Friday's sale was only a block from my house, so I went to it. I did end up buying two sweaters, which was hard because if there's anything in the world that underscores the pointlessness of acquiring earthly belongings, it's a dead person's clothing. But as I am still on earth, and I'd like to do my part to preserve this earth for future generations, buying secondhand seems like the green thing to do.
But the real excitement was the Depression Glass haul I got at the sale:
Now, I happen to have a Depression Glass identification guidebook, which was thoughtfully given to me by my brother Brian and sister-in-law Laurin (parents of recently-born Samuel). Using the guidebook, I was quickly able to identify the oval plate and two glasses in the foreground as the Poinsettia pattern produced by the Jeannette Glass Co. from 1931 to 1935. I was also pleasantly surprised to find out that the sherbet glasses, as they are called (apparently sherbet was very popular during the 1930s, judging from the number of companies that made sherbet glasses in that era) have a market value of $14 each, and that the platter is valued at $20. That means the set is worth $48, whereas I bought it for $5. Score! Except, as my husband reminds me, something is only worth a certain amount if you want to sell it and you have a buyer willing to pay you that amount. I have no intention of selling the items right now, but it's just kind of fun to think that you got something that's worth more than you paid for it.
Did I ever tell you that I once thought that Leia was such an item? I adopted Leia from the animal shelter, figuring she was just your standard garden-variety cat. In fact, I sort of thought her markings were a little bit weird, and were possibly the type of irregular markings not prized by cat show people. Of course, I'm not a cat show person, and I love my little furry girl to death. Anyway, on our drive from California to Chicago in 2004, during which Leia was a surprisingly well-behaved car passenger, we at one point stumbled upon a cat-themed gift shop in Colorado. The owner of the shop had a couple of live cats in the store, so we figured we'd give Leia a change of scenery (like she cared) and bring her into the store, too. The owner of the shop asked us if Leia was a Turkish Van, a type of cat that typically has Leia's pattern of markings and also has webbed feet. I was like, Wow, Leia is some kind of fancy cat! It's like buying something at a garage sale for a quarter and finding out it's worth hundreds of dollars!
So, when we finally got to Chicago and had access to an Internet connection (this being before the days when I had an Internet connection on my phone), I looked up Turkish Vans. The first thing I found on some kind of Turkish Van appreciation website was, "Your cat from the animal shelter is not a Turkish Van." Like, seriously, that was almost the exact verbage. It turns out that Leia has what's called a "van pattern," named after the Turkish Van, but she is not a Turkish Van. The discovery of this fact did nothing to diminish my undying love for her. And, as I said, value only becomes a consideration in a buying/selling situation, and I wasn't going to sell Leia.
I woke up before Nathan and worked on my freelance project for about an hour.
Later, after I took Nathan to camp, I went to an estate sale. See, awhile back I became interested in Depression Glass. Essentially, Depression Glass is glassware that was mass-produced and sold very inexpensively around the time of the Great Depression. What I find interesting about Depression Glass is that it is one of those situations where an everyday object has such interesting historical forces behind it. (Bill Bryson's At Home is an entire book about the historical factors behind everyday household objects.) See, around the time of the Great Depression, techniques in mass-production of glassware had just been discovered. The new techniques allowed companies to produce and sell pretty glass objects to people at lower prices, which of course was all most people could afford during the Great Depression.
More interestingly, to me at least, was that pieces of this glassware were given out for free in some of the most unlikely places. Like, the movie theater would have "dish night," and you would get a free dish for buying a movie ticket. This giveaway was, of course, designed to entice people to come into the movie theater, which seems sort of absurd by today's standards because these days people wouldn't go to the movies just to get a free dish. We all have enough dishes now. Also, I can't help but think that the free giveaway plate at today's movie theaters would be some hideous plastic thing with a licensed character on it.
But the dishes given away at movie theaters during the Depression were really pretty, and seemingly totally incongruous with the entertainment industry. You could also get free dishes inside of oatmeal boxes, which also seems really bizarre because wouldn't the dish take up a lot of room in there? Apparently boxes of soap flakes also sometimes contained dishes. Obviously oatmeal and soap are both products that serve as useful cushioning to protect fragile glassware, although I have to imagine that there was still the occasional breakage, leaving the consumer with a box of oatmeal mixed with broken glass. And as an extra added bonus, the glass likely contained lead.
Anyway, I find Depression Glass very interesting. Also I just really like to collect items that remind me of mental health conditions I suffer from. You know, Depression glass? Next up I hope to start collecting Anxiety Rugs.
So ... I signed up awhile back to get email alerts from EstateSales.net whenever there's an estate sale near me. Now, I don't really go out of my way to go to estate sales, because most of the time they are filled with unwanted crap, and they are a little bit sad. It's just kind of disconcerting to look over the sum-total of a person's earthly belongings, imagining that, like yourself, that person spent a huge percentage of her time procuring all these needed items, only to have a bunch of strangers go through her house after she died and buy all that stuff for fifty cents. And it's not the sale of collectibles or large items like furniture that make me sad. You could imagine the person wanting to sell the furniture while she was still alive, because people sell furniture all the time. And you could imagine the person taking great pride in finding an interested owner for her precious collectibles. But what makes me sad is people pouring through all the deceased person's kitchen items or bed linens, items that have no real monetary value, and are no longer useful to the original owner. It's just too much of a reminder that a person has ceased to exist on earth.
My point is, I have mixed feelings about estate sales, which means I will not go more than ten minutes out of my way to get to one. But Friday's sale was only a block from my house, so I went to it. I did end up buying two sweaters, which was hard because if there's anything in the world that underscores the pointlessness of acquiring earthly belongings, it's a dead person's clothing. But as I am still on earth, and I'd like to do my part to preserve this earth for future generations, buying secondhand seems like the green thing to do.
But the real excitement was the Depression Glass haul I got at the sale:
Now, I happen to have a Depression Glass identification guidebook, which was thoughtfully given to me by my brother Brian and sister-in-law Laurin (parents of recently-born Samuel). Using the guidebook, I was quickly able to identify the oval plate and two glasses in the foreground as the Poinsettia pattern produced by the Jeannette Glass Co. from 1931 to 1935. I was also pleasantly surprised to find out that the sherbet glasses, as they are called (apparently sherbet was very popular during the 1930s, judging from the number of companies that made sherbet glasses in that era) have a market value of $14 each, and that the platter is valued at $20. That means the set is worth $48, whereas I bought it for $5. Score! Except, as my husband reminds me, something is only worth a certain amount if you want to sell it and you have a buyer willing to pay you that amount. I have no intention of selling the items right now, but it's just kind of fun to think that you got something that's worth more than you paid for it.
Did I ever tell you that I once thought that Leia was such an item? I adopted Leia from the animal shelter, figuring she was just your standard garden-variety cat. In fact, I sort of thought her markings were a little bit weird, and were possibly the type of irregular markings not prized by cat show people. Of course, I'm not a cat show person, and I love my little furry girl to death. Anyway, on our drive from California to Chicago in 2004, during which Leia was a surprisingly well-behaved car passenger, we at one point stumbled upon a cat-themed gift shop in Colorado. The owner of the shop had a couple of live cats in the store, so we figured we'd give Leia a change of scenery (like she cared) and bring her into the store, too. The owner of the shop asked us if Leia was a Turkish Van, a type of cat that typically has Leia's pattern of markings and also has webbed feet. I was like, Wow, Leia is some kind of fancy cat! It's like buying something at a garage sale for a quarter and finding out it's worth hundreds of dollars!
So, when we finally got to Chicago and had access to an Internet connection (this being before the days when I had an Internet connection on my phone), I looked up Turkish Vans. The first thing I found on some kind of Turkish Van appreciation website was, "Your cat from the animal shelter is not a Turkish Van." Like, seriously, that was almost the exact verbage. It turns out that Leia has what's called a "van pattern," named after the Turkish Van, but she is not a Turkish Van. The discovery of this fact did nothing to diminish my undying love for her. And, as I said, value only becomes a consideration in a buying/selling situation, and I wasn't going to sell Leia.
"Go ahead and try to sell me on ebay! Please specify that the buyer needs to be willing to serve me unlimited cat food and have vomit-resistant flooring."
So, going back to my original topic, which was the identification and valuing of Depression Glass, I could not identify these ten little glasses I also bought:
For all I know, they could have been purchased at Target five years ago. (Oh, when will the Antiques Roadshow come to town and clarify this issue for me?) I'm thinking they might actually be antiques, though, because they aren't really the size and shape of glasses that are useful for the consumption of anything we eat or drink today. Well, actually, there are several similar ones in the book called cocktail glasses, and we do drink cocktails today, but not out of glasses like that. And I hope they are antiques, because the set of 10 glasses was $20. But there was something about them that made me just have to have them, and I reasoned that it was better to reward myself with pretty glassware than with ice cream.
Which brings me to my Weight Watchers weigh-in, which was next on my agenda for Friday. I lost 4 pounds! Now, I had registered gains the previous two weeks, and according to the online weight tracker my three-week net loss was only 0.8 pounds. But I'm going in a downward direction, so that's good, right?
The other exciting development on Friday was that the painter came and I committed to paint colors for the office. I knew I wanted purple, but you know how it is with paint chips: there are like 8,000 varieties of purple. Eventually I decided the color Wisteria was meant to be, because I used to live in a town whose claim to fame was having the world's largest wisteria vine. After choosing Wisteria I picked the next shade up, Brave Purple, as the color for one accent wall. The room in this picture is not an actual room in my house, but I picked it from the Sherwin-Williams online color simulator because its layout is similar to that of my home office:
I'm tempted to say it's too purple, but I also hate it when I wuss out and go for the lighter shade that basically ends up looking like white.
So, my new office might be painted as soon as Tuesday! And then I can get a rolltop desk! And also hopefully get more work to do to justify the money and effort that has gone into creating a home office!
Another fun thing we did Friday was go to the park district's annual watermelon-eating contest. Here are some pictures of Nathan in the contest:
The boy stuck with it, I'll give him that. But then he didn't win and he was kind of a sore loser:
Not pictured: the following hour where Nathan pouted while sitting on a piece of playground equipment and refused to play at the park or the adjoining splash pad. I guess when it comes to pouting, my kid can stick with that, too.
Following that whole watermelon debacle, I took Nathan home to hang out with Bill. I had some serious shopping to do. As I mentioned in my last post, my friend Farrah gave me her ticket to go to the Brands & Bloggers Summit. The site for the conference said that business casual attire was recommended. Turns out that after 2.5 years out of the cubicle, I no longer have anything in my wardrobe that qualifies as business casual. Or at least, I don't have anything that qualifies as business casual that can be worn in the summer, to a blogging conference with an after-party, and can accommodate a train commute in an uncharacteristically warm heat wave as well as the sub-zero temperatures of hotel air-conditioning.
(I should probably note that I do have items in my closet that probably would have worked, but they're all too small and/or worn out. Wearing poorly-fitting, faded clothing tends to undermine my self-confidence, and in a situation like a blogger conference you need all the confidence you can get.)
So, I went out shopping. I don't really have natural fashion sense, which made the selection of an outfit a little bit tricky. You know how it is. You find something that's cute, but there's just some little thing about the fabric or the cut that makes it too casual or too dressy or too sexy or something. And then there's the whole "I really like how that loose-fitting shirt conceals my muffin top, but I don't want anybody thinking I'm pregnant" issue.
Oh, it's hard.
I finally settled on a pair of black capris, which was a bit frustrating because, like everyone, I already own approximately 50 pairs of black capris. But again, sometimes you just need that exact right fabric and cut to make something a little bit dressier. I reasoned that capris in general are not terribly professional-looking, but I figured that a pair of capris on the nicer side would be sufficiently business-like when it comes to a blog conference. I mean, it's not like I'm a lawyer going to court or something.
I bought a purple sleeveless top and a black cardigan, the latter being another item I probably own 50 of in variations that just don't quite work for every given occasion.
Now, the capris were that tight-fitting kind that can show a bit of a panty line if the wrong underwear is worn (and I'm not gonna wear a thong, because that also reveals some unsightly features when worn with thinner fabrics), so I had to go to Kohl's and get some new underwear. Then I figured I didn't have the right purse to accommodate all the crap I had to haul with me for a 12-hour conference and a train commute. So I bought a new purse. Plus I needed new shoes, and jewelry, and at one point I decided I didn't even have the right water bottle to go to this conference (umm, yeah), because a disposable one says the wrong thing about my environmental priorities, but all the reusable ones I had were either too big and/or leaky.
(Now, I don't want to imply that I think I'm so important that the outside world has nothing better to do than make assumptions about me based on the kind of water bottle I carry. Like I said, it's all about self-confidence. And in the case of the water bottle, it's also about not ruining my cell phone and getting everything else in my purse wet.)
With all the shopping, and the nail maintenance, I think I put more effort into my appearance for this blogging conference than I did for my very own wedding. (But when it came to my raw appearance and general body type, I had more to work with back in my bridal days.)
The only other development on Friday was that I decided to stop reading A Discovery of Witches. I got it from the library, and it's becoming clear that I'm not going to finish it before it's due. (It's a "Hot Copy," and you only get it for two weeks max.) I've been plugging away at it for over a week, and I'm barely coming up on page 100, which is like 1/6 of the book. Now, part of my slowness is that I've just been busy with other activities, but I also think it's maybe that witches and wizards aren't really my thing. I've never really been into the whole Harry Potter thing, and I know that admission is going to alienate some readers (Leigh Ann), but let me assure you that my real-life friend Katie is the biggest Potter-head (not pothead) I know, and she's still willing to be my friend.
Failed reading attempts aside, I went to bed giddy about the happenings of the day and the excitement that awaited me in the morning.
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