Stress Levels Are High

I worked more than 50 hours this week. In the evenings, I had dinner with my parents on Tuesday and picked up foster kittens on Wednesday. Last night, I collapsed in a heap when I finally got home. Tonight, the same.

As a result, I have gotten no exercise all week. Well, I did a little yoga, but not a full workout since Sunday.

I've been trying to eat reasonably well, but haven't succeeded all that well. For the most part, I've been good during the day. But I bought some jelly beans a few weeks ago, and I ate way too many of them last night.

All of this means that I have many layers of stress. I have work stress, which isn't going to go away for at least another week. I have lack of exercise stress, which is caused when I don't get a chance to work out - since my body is used to getting regular exercise. And I have eating stress, exacerbated by the lack of exercise stress.

Layers and levels of stress are high.

Perimenopause Sucks

For more than 25 years, I was on birth control pills. One of the best side benefits of being on the pill is that you know exactly when you will have your period. It makes planning life much easier.

However, now that I'm in perimenopause, I can't plan around my period. Because I never know when it's going to come. For the months I worked at home, I didn't get my period at all. I just wasn't around other women enough to have my period "triggered".

Since I've been back working in an office since the beginning of the year, I've had several "extra" periods. And they last longer. The last one lasted 8 days. And several of those days were as heavy as when I was a teenager. Not the ideal by any stretch.

In the last days I was on the pill, I had a period for maybe 4 days, and most of those days were really light. I have been much more used to this scenario.

I'm hoping that, after a few more months in an office, my hormones will settle down again, and I'll get back to a more "normal" period. It probably still won't be possible to plan around it. But it would be good not to have more than one a month.

It's funny how one's expectations change. But I still think being perimenopausal sucks. If only because I'm a planner.

Not Like The Others.

Today I participated in an interesting exercise at work. It was called a Mentoring Circle. They asked three of us to be on the panel to talk about our work experiences and how we got to where we are.

I was the odd "man" out. The other two people on the panel were both much more senior than I am. I wondered about that, but the organizers told me when I got there today that they wanted leaders from all levels of the organization. So I guess I qualified. The other way that I was different from the other two is that I am new to my company. Both of my colleagues were "legacy" people - that is, staff from one of the many companies that my company acquired over the years. On the other hand, I didn't work for any of those companies - I'm not "legacy" anything.

Both of them were also what we call "in the line"; that is, they work directly for customers. On the other hand, I am "G&A" or overhead. One of the things that seems to be important for growth in our company is working directly for a customer. It's important to perform for a customer. It helps prove your worth to the company, which gives you a leg up for promotions. Something for me to think about in the future.

Finally, both of them have well-defined jobs and roles. I do not and never really have. In fact, I've had essentially the same job since I started at the company - at least officially. But my job has been more all over the map.

So I felt a bit like the children's game "Which of these is not like the other?".

And yet we had some things in common. Being open to new experiences. Being willing to take risks in our work. Being good performers.

After the end of the session, one of the participants came up to me and thanked me for coming from a different place. She too is relatively new to the company. Her role is nebulous. And it was good for her to know that there were others like her.

Maybe I'm not "like the others", but maybe that's okay.

How Do You Define "Date"?

Friday morning, I was eating breakfast at Hartsfield airport on my way back from Atlanta. I wanted a protein based breakfast, as opposed to just a carb one, so I went to an actual restaurant to eat. Well, it was really a bar, but it served breakfast, so that worked.

There were two young ladies serving the customers. At one point, they went behind the bar to enter their orders and get drinks (non-alcoholic ones) for their customers. They were chatting, as co-workers tend to do. The one girl was insisting that her previous evening qualified as a date, even though apparently "he" was insisting that it didn't. I was just overhearing and of course didn't ask any questions, but it sounded like a date to me. Apparently, his contention was it was not a date because it was a casual restaurant (I think it was Five Guys). Her contention was that it was a date because they had a meal together.

I myself have started trying to date again. I'm not good at the whole dating thing. And it occurs to me that part of the reason for this is the ambiguity of what is a date.

If you just meet for coffee, is that a date? I think meeting for drinks would constitute a date, so why not coffee? Coffee is much more casual, it's true. But still it would qualify, provided other conditions are met.

Did one of you call/text/email the other to arrange the excursion? If yes, I say it's a date.

Was it a meeting of just the two of you? If not, if there's a group of people getting together, then I would say it's not a date. Unless of course, he and you do something afterward just the two of you. Then it would qualify.

And yet, if someone asked me how many dates I've had with the guy I've recently met, I'd be hard-pressed to answer the question. Because all three meetings fit the qualifications above, and yet, they were all casual meetings. First, lunch. Which was really a fix-up. And so a date of sorts, but really a quasi-date because we spent the whole time trying to figure out if we liked each other enough to have a second - well, date. So I guess, yes, that means the first meeting was a date. Hmmm....

The second "date" was for lunch on a Sunday morning. Again, a very casual meeting. I did pick him up at his home. And I saw his place when I dropped him off. And we kissed for the first time. So perhaps that really does count as a date too.

Our third date was for snacks, he called it. I would have called it drinks, except we didn't sit at the bar. It was a quick meeting - only an hour or so.

I think what's bothering me is that all our "dates" - and I guess I really need to call them dates - have been in the daytime. And little romance has been involved, other than a few kisses at our second date.

So maybe it's just my definition, but I'm counting these three dates as dates, but I won't really feel like this guy and I are "dating" until we have dinner out a few times. And maybe even a movie or something else. Even a show or a concert would qualify. Just something a little less casual. And at night. :)

The Annual Purging Of The Files

I'm late this year. Here it is almost the end of March, and I'm just packing up my 2010 bills and starting to file my 2011 bills in the accordian file. You see, every year, I just reuse the same accordian file. I put the previous year's bills in a plastic bin for storage, toss out the bills from several years ago. It's a rotating system.

In these days, I can't just toss the old bills in the trash. Any bills that have any identifying information, including my Social Security number or the charge card account numbers, must be shredded before tossing. It's kind of a pain, and part of the reason that I hadn't dealt with rotated the bills until now.

It's always interesting to go back through a year's worth of bills. In addition to the bills themselves, I have archived important other papers - cards, invitations, etc. I've also starting to pull out my medical record information to put in a file I'm starting to keep. After all, I work in health IT, and I know one of the challenges is for people to keep their own medical histories. This is particularly important for me as my doctor doesn't use electronic records. My medical history is housed in several paper files. Who knows whether it's all really there? It's time for me to be part of the process and keep my own records.

The other thing I found in the purging this year was the originals of my student loan documentation. I originally took out my loans with the Department of Education. They have since rolled over to Sallie Mae. Again, considering the state of that organization, it behooves me to have my own documentation, don't you think?

So the annual purging of the files is a good thing, usually. Even it doesn't happen until March.

Refusing To Get Older

I am a great aunt. At 48. It's perhaps somewhat better than being a grandmother at 48. But it's still a quite strange concept to me. Grand- or great- anythings are old people, aren't they? I'm not old.

And yet, I have silver hair. So clearly I am old. Or older at least. And I've never shied away from saying my age. Never pretended that I was still 30, even before I stopped coloring my hair. So what's with the denial that I'm older?

My mother had knee replacement surgery a couple of weeks ago. This is the second time she's had a knee done, so she knew what to expect. Except that it's been 13 years since the last one, and there's a significant difference between being 67 and being 80. Her recovery is going fine for an 80-year-old, but she remembers her recovery as a 67-year-old and is frustrated that the recovery isn't going as quickly or easily. Even at almost 80, she refuses to be defeated by being older.

I understand her frustration and her denial. I spent most of the winter doing yoga for my primary form of exercise. There were a bunch of reasons for this, not the least of which was that it was too cold to run outside. But now that the weather is turning nicer, I want to go running again. I also signed up to run in the Race for the Cure in June. I could switch to being a walker, but I want to run not walk. But my knees - which I inherited from my mother - aren't so sure. These days, when I run, the first mile is problematic. Then the "juices" get flowing and running is less painful. My sister, who has the same bad knees, has given up running pretty much altogether. She's had orthoscopic surgery on both knees, so her bad knees are a level above mine though not quite as bad as my mother's. But given our genetic history, I wonder if running on what are getting to be older knees is better or worse for them. Am I strengthening the knees, tendons, and muscles by running, which will stave off surgeries? Or am I pushing my knees more than I should at this age? It's probably a question I should ask my doctor, except that I don't want to hear the answer. Denial at its finest.

On the scale of genetic issues that can kick in as one gets older, I'll take bad knees and premature gray hair. But they are reminders that I'm not as young as I used to be. As much as I may want to deny it, it's true. I am getting older. Maybe what I'm really refusing is letting it change my life.

After all, my 84-year-old father is flying across the country next week to participate in meetings for an organization he founded almost 10 years ago. When he was a spring chicken at 70+. Those genes I'll take - in spades. My parents have always kept active, in their own way refusing to age. And I firmly believe that's why they are in their 80s and among the healthiest 80-year-olds you'll ever meet.

The bottom line is that I think I'll continue to push myself, to accept new challenges, to admit my age but not let it dictate what I can and cannot do.

And maybe that's not a bad thing.

Productivity

Yesterday I spent many hours on airplanes. For all that we've improved modes of transportation amazingly in the last century, it still takes a very long time to get across the country. Long being a relative term, of course.

Usually I read on planes. I am a voracious reader and love nothing more than several hours with a good book. Planes are a good excuse for indulging in this pleasure as there's really not a whole lot else to do.

Yesterday, however, I decided to spend the time writing instead of reading. I had thought about bringing my laptop with me, in fact, to make the process easier. But that would have either meant bringing fewer clothes - um, no - or bringing a bigger suitcase. Since I was also trying to avoid having to check a bag, neither was a good option. So I went with the old-fashioned way - pen and paper.

I'll be honest. I mostly slept on the first leg of my journey. It had been a short night and I was tired. It's a short hop to Chicago anyway. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Still, I did start to lay out the timelines for the real stories for the two guys about whom I have not written. I have a terrible memory for time and events so I needed to figure out the sequence. It was not easy and I'm still not sure it's right.

On the second leg, from chicago to palm springs, I broke out the pen and paper and began to actually construct a chapter. I went with the third chapter of the series I have already started. I finished the real story the other week. And I was about a third of the way through the "bad" take on alternative events. What would have happened if things had gone wrong. So it seemed like a good place to start on the plane ride with the "good" side - what would have happened if everything had worked out.

It's an interesting process this reimagining of my life. The first question is at what point to branch off and start an alternative history. And then thinking about what would have had fo happen to make the alternative history good or bad. The bad is actually easier to come up with. In part, because the original history has the seeds of discontent. Easy to sow those seeds into more. It's harder to figure out what would have had fo happen to make the tale come out well. The compromises or changes in circumstances.

And yet, once I got started yesterday, the good flowed pretty easily off the end of my pen. I got 20 pages written, and I'm only up to the proposal.

Since people writing long hand is something of a dying art, I got a few questions from my fellow passengers. Was I writing a letter? A paper? Or what? When I said I was writing a book, I got the inevitable question about the topic. So I talked about my topic. Life reimagined. What would happen if I'd taken different paths. I didn't get into the specifics of the paths. But the idea seems intriguing to most people. I think most people can relate to the idea of what might have been. The fact that I'm focusing on the men in my life will either add to the interest or not.

So I was pleased with yesterday's productivity. And my hand is really sore.

Confronting Mortality

For nearly 20 years, I've had friends and family remark that my parents seem younger than their years. The worst health issue they had until the past few years was my mother having knee replacement surgery.

Then a couple of years ago, Dad had some health issues. He had to have a pace maker put in. But even that is a fairly common and fairly nonintrusive procedure. At 82, it didn't seem like a big deal.

Still, aging happens, and in the past year or so, my father has become noticeably more infirm. He has walked with a bit of stoop for many years, and he has walked slowly for about the same amount of time. But more than that, his stamina has diminished as well.

Last week, my mother had her other knee replaced. She's recovering well. But her recovery is likely to be longer because she's that much older. When I went to see her, she mentioned that she had had a rough night with pain. Because she did, Dad didn't get much rest. When I saw him, he looked exhausted. I'm sure a few nights of good sleep will help restore him. And Mom says he's going to work on getting more exercise - which will be good for him.

And yet....it's become clear that, as much as it isn't fun to admit it, my parents are finally getting old. I'm not trying to deny it. I'm just recognizing that it's time to prepare.

The Joy Of Giving

Recently, I came into some money that I didn't know I was getting. Well, I knew there was a chance, but not much of one. We get annual bonuses at work. My bonus is based, in part, on how many wins I bring in. Every year, all of us in business development get what's called a scorecard. They set certain financial goals, along with other business goals. When I came back in June, I got the scorecard for my position. The financial goals were, I thought, completely unrealistic. But I didn't have a say in the matter, and I've always tried to remember that bonuses are just that - a bonus. One should not rely on them.

When I did the calculation in January, I knew I was in trouble. I'd had a few nice wins, including one really nice one, but I hadn't come close to meeting the goal in my scorecard. I'd met the business goals - managing my team, building good relationships with my colleagues, and helping to develop a CONOPS for my new role. Those were goals at which I knew I could succeed. But the financial one is much harder to meet. After all, you can write the best proposal in the world, but if the customer doesn't want you, they will find a way to judge it not as good as someone else's.

So when I got the call with the amount last week, I was pleasantly surprised. Rather than just put it in the bank, I wanted to do some good things with it. Not just for me, but for others.

A few months ago, in the midst of the holidays, I had gotten a solicitation from George Mason University in the midst of all the other end-of-year solicitations. In this case, an alumni was offering a "bonus" donation of $100,000 to the university if all the members of the advisory groups at the university donated before June 30, 2011. I serve on the advisory board for the College of Health and Human Services. Our board is a pretty active one, and we all had contributed in the past year to the college. I wasn't sure I was prepared to donate again so soon. But I kept the solicitation and assumed that, after the holidays, I would make at least something of a donation. With this unexpected windfall, I was able to make a more substantial contribution.

Likewise, I routinely get solicitations from the animal rescue with which I volunteer. It's a cause in which I sincerely believe, and I know how much good money can do in this case. It costs several hundred dollars per animal for a spay or neuter. And because there are already too many stray animals in the world, our rescue spays and neuters all dogs and cats before they are eligible for adoption. Period, end of sentence. So the rescue outlays that money for every animal. They also pay for checkups, shots, and many other veterinary needs. They recoup most of these costs in the adoption fee for reasonably healthy, young animals. Most but not all. And if an animal needs additional care - say, it's in the rescue longer and needs more shots as it gets older, or comes to us with even something as innocuous as a bad case of fleas - the adoption fee doesn't cover the expenses. The rescue relies on donations and the proceeds of the three restaurants owned by the founder. So I decided to make a more substantial donation to the rescue than I had at the end of the year.

It warms my heart to do these things. When I was a struggling grad student, earning barely enough money to live on, I never thought I'd get to the point in life where I had everything I needed. I worried about the money to buy a car, much less a house. Now, I live in a very nice house, earn a very nice living, and really can afford to buy for myself whatever I might need. I don't take that for granted. Instead, I try to be responsible about it. I'm saving for retirement. And I try to give back - to use my money for good things. Because it's the right thing to do. And doing the right thing feels good.

Problem Children

One of the challenges of management is managing problem people. It's easy to be a manager when everything is going well. It's much harder to manage when it's not going well.

For many years, I've managed projects that haven't gone smoothly. I know how to deal with that. Sometimes it's the people, but more often it's the situation. And sometimes you just have to persevere.

But problem people are - well - more problematic. Working with problem people is bad enough. But, depending on the problem, you can sometimes just persevere - that is, sometimes you can just deal with people you don't want to have to deal with until you don't have to deal with them anymore. Or sometimes you can get problem people reassigned so you don't have to deal with them anymore.

But if you're managing problem people, you can't just persevere through it. You have to deal with it.

So you try to deal with. You talk to them about the problems. You talk to them about how to better manage themselves. Or what your expectations are. Or how other people - or even yourself - have handled similar situations. And hopefully, through these techniques, you can make your problem people into non-problem people.

But sometimes you can only talk to them so many times before you figure you're not going to get through. And that's when being a manager stinks. Because you have to deal with it, even it if means getting rid of the problem people.

Mission Accomplished!

First chapter completed. Whew!

It's tempting to rest on one's laurels for a day or two. Except that, really, the only solid days I have to write are the weekends. So I have to start on another chapter tonight. I have outlines for them all, so it's just a matter of picking one. The question is whether I want to complete the trifecta of stories that go with the first chapter, or go down a completely different path. I think I'm going to stay with the same topic for the next chapter. After all, the information from the first chapter is fresh in my mind. And I will really feel as though I have accomplished something when I finish the first trifecta!

On to the next goal. Next chapter here I come.

Today's Mission

I am inches away. So close I can smell it. The light at the end of the tunnel.

Chapter one of my book is almost complete. Of course, it's been almost complete for a couple of weeks now. I made the mistake - or the positive move - of rereading the whole thing before starting on the end. As a result, what should have been a few hours to wrap it up ended up being several hours of tweaking and editing. The end result is better, of course, but the line still hasn't been crossed.

Motivation is there. Will today be the day? Finally? I sure hope so. I have others to write and places to go.

Losing Track Of Pop Culture

I may be 48, but I try to keep up with what the younger generation watches and listens to. For many years, I have prided myself on being the only kid in my family who knows the names of top pop singers and current TV shows.

I'm pretty good. I even own music by some of the hottest acts in the country. I have P!nk's last CD - which I love. I have Train's last CD - which is okay. I like Taylor Swift's music, but haven't bought any yet. I know who Lady Gaga, Ke$sha, Usher, Justin Bieber, Rihanna, Bruno Mars, and Katy Perry are. I don't like any of them, but I know some of their music. Sort of. But Cee Lo Green? I only know his name because of Glee. Nick Minaj? I know her because she wore all leopard-spotted clothes to the Grammys. Taio Cruz? No idea. Keri Hilson? Pitbull? What?

I have some of the same problems with TV. I do watch Glee, though I was a late-comer. I've never watched The Office, 30 Rock, and a bunch of the ABC sitcoms, but I know the basics, including most of the stars. I think the Jersey Shore is disgusting, but I know something about the show and the "stars". But I don't watch Gossip Girl, Vampire Diaries, or any of the other CW shows; True Blood, Boardwalk Empire, or any of the other HBO shows; or Burn Notice, White Collar, Royal Pains, or any of the other USA Network shows.

As a result, there are paparazzi pictures, stories on entertainment shows, and other media news that mention things that happened in pop culture or "famous" people and I have no idea who they are.

Flexibility Goals

I've been getting into yoga lately. This is in part because my joints are getting older and running is hard on them. And it's in part because running and other cardio exercise does little for flexibility. In fact, I found that just doing cardio exercises actually made my joints, tendons, and ligaments tighter. Which can make them more vulnerable to problems. When I was doing karate, I had developed quite a bit of flexibility. But in the years since I stopped, that flexibility has almost disappeared.

So yoga. Like most forms of exercise, however, you get as much out of yoga as you put into it. The more often you do it, the better you do. This is particularly true for the flexibility aspects. I find that if I do yoga a couple of days in a row, I am much more flexible on day 2 and 3. Likewise, if I don't do any for several days in a row, the next time is almost like starting at the beginning in terms of flexibility.

Because there are no belts to achieve and because I do better with goals, here are my flexibility goals:

1) Be able to get my head to my knee in one-legged stretches. I'm almost there. My head is probably an inch or so above my knee if I do yoga a couple of days in a row.

2) Be able to get my head to my knee in seated forward bend. Again, I am close so this is pretty attainable.

3) Be able to put my palms on the ground and fully stretch in standing forward bend. Right now, I can usually get my fingers on the ground in the second or third round of this stretch. But full palms will take a while.

4) Be able to get my chest to the ground in wide angle seated fold. Right now, I can get my arms up to my elbows on the ground with my legs wide open. I'd like to get my chest to the ground. This is a pretty audacious goal. We will have to see.

5) Be able to open my legs wider than 90 degrees in wide angle seated fold. When I was doing karate, I got to about 135 degrees. I can't imagine getting to a full 180. The instructor on my yoga DVDs does, but he was a dancer before he took up yoga. That might be cheating.

6) Be able to get my feet flat on the ground in downward dog. My heels are still a couple of inches off the floor. This too will take lots of stretching and diligence.

Some poses are beyond me and I don't really desire to get there. Plow pose, for example, where you fold your outstretched legs over your head and touch your feet on the ground behind your head. No desire to be able to do that. It's just really uncomfortable. Likewise, I have no desire to do upward bow. In this pose, you balance on your hands and feet and push your body up in the air. So the only parts of you touching the floor and your hands and feet. I simply don't have the arm strength for this pose, and I can't imagine getting there.

As with karate, I am finding with yoga that I have challenges with my balance. I'm fine with warrior 1 and 2. But warrior 3 is a challenge. I can do it most of the time, but sometimes my balance just isn't there. Same problem with star pose. Triangle is no problem. But moving forward to rest on one hand and one foot with the opposite leg outstretched behind and the opposite arm straight up is something I have definite problems with.

For now, I'm sticking with flexibility goals. I'll save balance goals for another time.

What's In A Name?

When I was a little kid, my family called me "Barby". With a "y", not an "ie" like the doll. The Christmas stocking my mother made for me when I was a small child still has that name on it. When I got to an age to make my opinion known, I killed the nickname. I didn't want to be associated with the Barbie doll. In fact, I refused to have one of those dolls. I wasn't really a doll person to start with. But being associated with that particular doll just didn't work for me.

I went from "Barby" to "Barb". Throughout junior high school and senior high school, I went by that name. It worked for my teenage self.

When I went to college, I became "Barbara". Since then, I have always introduced myself to new people as "Barbara". But there are still people who call me "Barb" - my family and people who know me from junior high school. Or people who met me through people who knew me from junior high school. But it's rare.

So when people call me "Barb" when they didn't know me way back when or are not my friend, it irks me. Somehow it's assuming an intimacy that isn't appropriate.

Maybe that's going too far? Maybe I shouldn't be so sensitive?

Except that I know other people who go by their full name and would be really ticked off if someone shortened it without permission. So perhaps I'm not the only one.

Tipping Point

It's chicken vs. egg time. Last night, at 3:15 am so perhaps more accurately very early this morning, I woke up. From 3:15 to 4:17, I tossed and turned, writing my book in my brain. At 4:17, I gave it up, came downstairs to get my laptop, and spent the next 1-1/2 hours writing. At 6:05 am, I came downstairs again to feed the cats. Then I turned off the computer, turned off the lights, and tried to sleep again. But I was still thinking about the book. Still remembering things I wanted to include, plot points to add, ideas to be sure to incorporate.

Why I woke up at 3:15 am is a mystery. I was having trouble sleeping all night, not made any better by a cat sleeping stretched to her limit in the absolute center of the bed. I could have moved her, but instead I tried to sleep around her. And was uncomfortable. But that was probably chicken vs. egg too. If I was tired enough, I would have been able to sleep anyway.

But the book is starting to get to a tipping point. The first story is almost finished. The real story of one of the guys. Once I've finished that story, I will truly feel like I'm on the road to writing a book.

I keep thinking I'm almost there. And then at 3:15 am, my brain starts of thinking about other things I want to add. Last night is the first time I've actually gotten up and written. However, I have a feeling it won't be the last.

Tipping point - obsession or goal. Maybe the better question is whether there's a difference?

Event Planning

I admire people who plan major events, like weddings and conferences, because every time I have to do this kind of planning, I'm reminded what a hassle it is. Perhaps hasssle isn't the right word, but certainly the logistics can be a huge challenge. And this is from someone who handles logistics for a living!

Event planning is on my mind for two reasons. First, next weekend is the biggest health IT conference of the year, HIMSS. All the big companies and many of the small ones in our industry will have a booth at the convention center. The conference is so large that there are only a handful of cities that can house it. In 2010, HIMSS was in Atlanta. The year before that, it was in Orlando. This year, it's back in Orlando. It's outgrown smaller convention cities like New Orleans, where it was held in 2007. This time last year, I was already in Atlanta. Since I was then working for a small company, I was responsible for all the logistics for our booth, from getting it designed in the first place to being there for its setup. I also had to set up a booth schedule to ensure there was someone to talk about our capabilities at all times. And of course, marketing materials to hand out as needed. There was a great deal of stress involved as well, with so much of the planning and therefore success of spending all that money resting on my shoulders. All in all, I spent two weeks in Atlanta. I got to know the town better than I ever have, but I was compeltely exhausted by the end of it. In 2009, I helped plan and execute the booth for a large company. Also exhausting, but I didn't have to do all the pre- and post-conference support. And I was in more of a support role for all the other elements. Not all the responsibility rested with me. This year, now back at a large company, I'm not even involved in the planning nor will I be attending. It's weird, but I miss the opportunity to participate. Maybe next year?

The second event being planned is resting more on my shoulders. We are trying to get a family reunion together for this summer. My mother is turning 80 this year, and she requested a family reunion for her celebration. Her birthday is in May though, which makes getting the family together for her actual birthday challenging, as some of the extended family has kids in school. So we're planning for a 4th of July reunion. Picking a location was a bit of a challenge as well. Mom had suggested Colorado as possibility, but also Italy. In the end, we ended up in Texas as my remaining uncle is not in the best of health and lives there. We decided on Austin as it's one of the destination cities in Texas, with a great music scene and Lake Travis for water and golfing excursions. Check. Next, I sent a note to all the relatives on my mom's side of the family to see who could come. I heard from almost everyone, so now I had a list of who would be coming, who would potentially be coming, and who couldn't make it. Check. Then we needed to identify a house or two to rent in Austin. This proved quite challenging, given that we needed about 7-8 bedrooms all totalled. The committee for this was me, my sister, and one of my cousins. After several weeks of debating between this house and that house, locations around Austin, and configurations of the family, we have finally pinned down a particular location and are making reservations. Check. Next, we need to make reservations for dinner for a birthday celebration. We've identified that restaurant, so that should be easy. Check. Now I'm working on locations to hear some good music, my cousin is scoping out possible excursions, and my sister will look into the architecture of Austin for our father to explore. Eventually, we'll have to deal with the financials for renting the houses. And then renting cars, making plane reservations, and other details associated with getting everyone to town. Not to mention groceries and other logistics. As many things as we have already planned, there's more to come.

Maybe if you do this for a living, you develop a checklist or two. And you know the timelines for what needs to happen when. Maybe that makes it easier. Maybe.

What Day Is It Anyway?

I have one of those jobs that requires working lots of extra hours. Long days are not at all unusual. It comes with the territory.

But my long days have been too many in a row now. I've worked at least part of every weekend for the past month. Last weekend, I only worked a few hours on Sunday and even fewer on Saturday. But it was enough to make me feel like I worked both days. The weekend before, I worked more than a full day each day. The weekend before, the same. The weekend before that was more partial - like this past weekend.

The problem with working over the weekends is not only that you don't get a break. It's also that you don't get to reset your week. Most of us - certainly those of us who work a traditional five-day workweek, i.e., not retail - have a sort of internal clock. The weekends reset that clock. The weekends tell us when Monday will come around again. The weekends follow Fridays.

So when I work during a weekend, or as has been the case much too often lately through the weekend, my clock doesn't get reset. And the days start running together. And it becomes hard for me to automatically recall the day of the week. Instead, I have to think about it. Hard.

Not happy.

Being In Good Shape vs. Being Slim(mer)

I've been pretty diligent about getting exercise for nearly 20 years now. When I turned 30, I resolved to getting some regular exercise. First, I did karate for 10 years. In the midst of doing karate, I also joined a gym and was good about going to the gym in addition to karate. When I took my physical fitness exam for my second degree black belt test, I would argue that I was in the best shape of my life. In terms of endurance and cardio strength, I was there. My pulse was regularly around 50 bpm, which is really low for those who know about such things. In fact, there were a couple of times when I went to give blood, and they were nervous about taking my blood because my pulse was so slow.

During this period, I also started to eat healthier and less. As a result, I lost weight. But I remained heavier than I would have liked. And heavier than made sense to me. I was eating 1,800 calories a day and exercising for an hour at a time 4-5 times a week. That's a recipe for not only being in shape but losing weight. I was in fine shape - healthy that is - but not slim.

I resigned myself that I just wasn't ever going to get slim unless I went to an extreme and really dieted for a period of time. I don't believe in diets. It seems to me that people go on these diets and then, as soon as they are done dieting, the weight goes back on. As they teach you when you're serious about losing weight, you have to change your eating habits. I had already done that. And I wasn't really happy with the idea of eating less for any extended period of time to quickly shed pounds. Instead, I stuck with my plan, which was slimming me down but slowly now that I had plateaued and my body was used to the amount of exercise and reduced calorie intake.

Then about three months ago (maybe a bit more - I have a terrible memory for time), I started doing yoga more seriously. I had been doing a yoga-like class at my gym for a while, but only once a week and not even consistently once a week. But my joints were getting achy from running and I missed the flexibility that I had once had with karate. So I decided that I would try yoga more seriously and bought some yoga DVDs. I wasn't convinced that yoga would be enough exercise - especially given that I was used to 4-5 hours of cardio a week - but I thought I'd mix it in with the other exercise.

Then I started teleworking more, and I was having trouble making myself get out to the gym. And I was working a lot of hours. The DVDs helped me still be able to get some exercise. I thought they were better than nothing, but as I said, I wasn't convinced that yoga by itself was going to be enough.

And then one day, I put on my knee-high boots. And they zipped up much better than they ever had before. There was even - gasp! - a little extra room around my calves. My legs are my worst feature. I hate them. They have always been heavy, and I was resigned that they always would be. Could it be that yoga was actually having an impact on them?

I was excited. If I could find a way to slim down, that would be amazing. I started doing yoga almost exclusively. And I've found that my socks go further up my calves than they used to as well. And the legs of my pants actually move around my legs as I walk, rather than having my legs stuffed into them like sausages.

But what truly has convinced me that yoga is tough exercise is when I stopped for a week or so. And then went back to it. I got sick and was working too much. The combination led to no exercise for about a week. Relatively unheard of in my 30s and 40s. When I got healthy again, I did one of my yoga DVDs. And was amazed at how sore I was the next day. I've done the DVDs for the past couple of days, and I really feel it. So I'm convinced.

Yoga, perhaps, finally offers me a way to be both in good shape and slimmer. I'm optimistic again for the first time in a while. We'll see what happens from here, but progress is good.

Office Bound

This week, I am finally back in an office after nearly seven months of being a teleworker. During that seven months, I have had periods when I worked in one of my company's buildings in the area - the company has many - but I didn't have an office that was mine.

It's been interesting to be a teleworker. As I've noted before, there are pluses and minuses to the experience. The biggest plus has been being able to receive packages, furniture, etc., without having to take time off or arrange to be at home. Most of the time, I was already here. The biggest minus has been a lack of personal interaction. Sure, I exchanged emails with my co-workers. We had many conference calls. When I first started being a teleworker, I was concerned that I would not be able to stay in the loop. I was afraid that not being around my co-workers every day would mean that they would forget to tell me things. But the fact is that the organizations that I support are located all over the place, many of my colleagues are teleworkers, and so communications are already a challenge being addressed. That being said, I lobbied to no longer be a teleworker. And this month, I succeeded.

So now I have an office. It's nice to be around people all day again. I don't feel bound at all.

Nails?

I've been growing out my fingernails again. It's been a while since I had any length of nail. There are plusses and minuses to having long fingernails. I can't decide whether to keep this set. We'll see what happens.

In my 20s, I had beautiful, manicured nails. I did them myself. It was a Sunday evening ritual. Take off the old polish. File the nails. Push back the cuticles. Apply bottom coat (clear). Apply two layers of polish (usually a shade of red or pink - never went exotic with black or blue). Apply top coat. Try not to touch anything for at least a half hour to let them dry completely. Usually, a good, patient manicure would last for a week. Sometimes less if I was doing some kind of manual labor.

In my 30s, I stopped having long nails. I started doing karate, and long fingernails were no longer practical for a couple of reasons. First, they broke off in class all the time anyway. Second, when you close your first to punch, you can punch a hole in your hand with a long fingernail. Third, you can scratch other people - and they really don't appreciate it! So I started trimming my nails regularly.

I gave up karate around my 40th birthday. And I could have started to grow out my nails again. Instead, I kept them short. If anything, I was more likely to keep them trimmed than not. In many ways, it's just easier. But you still have to deal with cuticles - at least I do. And so I wasn't able to ignore my nails altogether.

About 3-4 years ago, my sister gave my mother and me a nail buffer in our Christmas stockings. I'd never buffed my nails before, but we have a genetic thing that puts ridges in our fingernails. The buffer makes them smooth again. Not to mention shiny. So for the past few years, I've mostly just been dealing with that for my nail care - buffing my nails, pushing back the cuticles, but keeping the nails themselves short.

Then for whatever reason, probably too much work, I just didn't cut them for a while. And then I decided to file the edges rather than cut the nails off. Right now, I have eight long nails and two mostly long but not quite AS long because they have broken off. That's the other challenge of growing out your nails. Unless you use the fake ones, it's a challenge to have 10 long nails at the same time.

And I'd forgotten what it's like to type with long nails. It's definitely a different feeling, and you have to "angle" your hands differently to consciously type more with the pad. Or click, click, click with your nails. I know women who type with their nails, but it doesn't really work for me.

I haven't polished my nails since I've grown them out again. I don't have any polish that isn't at least a year or so old. And I haven't decided whether to commit to keeping them long again or not.

But there is something feminine about having long nails. Or is that just my imagination? I'll have to pay more attention to the women around me and see what percentage of women I know have painted nails and what percentage don't seem to bother. It will be a social experiment. I'll report back in a month or so.

Carmegeddon

Yesterday, I was working in one of our Chantilly offices until about 2 pm. At that point, I decided to head home because the weather report was calling for a snowstorm to roll in starting about 4 pm. I didn't want to get caught out in it, and I am set up to work from home. So I packed up my proposal, and I headed to my house.

The weather predictors were right on the money with this one. About 4:30 pm, I heard this noise that sounded like my cats getting into something in the kitchen. I got up to follow the noise and realized that it was sleet and hail on my deck making that weird noise. It was coming down really hard and really fast. I quickly emailed my colleagues that I knew were still in the office to get out while they could. But there was a part of me that felt like maybe I was overreacting to the news. Could it be that my weeks of working at home have made me gun-shy for being out in bad weather? A little sleet, a little hail. Not all that bad. And about a half hour after it started, the hail and sleet had turned into rain. Now, I really thought I'd overreacted.

Until about a half an hour after that when the snow was blowing so hard that it looked like it was falling horizontally. It was amazing to watch - quite beautiful actually. I posted about the snow on Facebook, and a few other friends indicated that they were heading home.

Later in the evening, other friends started posting about long commutes. Hours and hours spent on the road. This morning, I heard from several friends who had ridiculously long commutes home. My nephew-in-law, for instance, had a 5-hour commute to go 6 miles. He could have walked faster. Another friend, who is a labor and delivery nurse, couldn't have left even if she'd wanted to. Because her relief couldn't get to the hospital. Another friend didn't get home until after midnight, despite having left downtown DC at 6 pm. And a few friends ventured out to try to get home, only to turn around and go back to the office and spend the night there.

They're dubbing this storm "Carmegeddon" because of the number of abandoned cars by the side of the road. I no longer feel stupid for having left the office when I did. I'm just grateful that I made myself do it.

Switching Sides

I am a restless sleeper. I think I've written before that I rarely sleep through the night. I'm usually up several times, though usually I don't physically get up and out of bed.

Usually, I wake up and roll over. And go back to sleep.

It starts at the beginning of my sleep cycle. I usually start to fall asleep on one side (I only sleep on my side(s)) and then, just as I'm drifting off, I turn to the other side. I have no idea why this happens, but it happens just about every night.

Sometimes I consciously switch sides. Or perhaps semiconsciously would be the better term. Maybe I'm in a strange position on the one side, and a body part is uncomfortable. I usually sleep in a pretty classic fetal position, legs bent to almost 90 degrees and at 110 degrees from the rest of my body (that is, more than 90 degrees from my torso but less than straight). But sometimes, I turn further toward the mattress, so that I'm almost on my stomach except my torso and head. That's a pretty big twist in waist and hips. Depending on how much yoga or other exercise I've been getting, that position sometimes becomes less comfortable. When it does, I rarely just pull my legs up into the more fetal position. Instead, I roll over.

The other time I semiconsciously roll over is for bad dreams. If I'm having a bad dream - and I dream a lot - then I will "wake" myself up and turn over. Most of the time, that changes my dream focus enough that I will not continue the dream on the other side. Not always, but most of the time. If the dream involves something that's really bothering me - a work problem I'm trying to fix - I will sometimes have to roll over several times to "shake it".

Some people have called this kind of sleeping tossing and turning. Somehow that image implies a more frantic state than I am usually in. I prefer the term switching sides.

Has It Been Two Years Already?

I noted the date today as Inauguration Day, every four years when we elect a new president. So two years ago, today, was the day we inaugurated our first black president.

I don't usually go political in my blog. There are many political blogs out there already, and most of the time I'm only semi-informed anyway. But I couldn't help but notice the date and think back to the energy and enthusiasm that you could feel across the country just two short years ago, and where we are today. It's sad how quickly the tides turn.

This morning's Washington Post had a headline of "House pass health repeal; move is mostly symbolic". 245 members, including three Democrats, voted to repeal the healthcare legislation that the previous Congress passed about a year ago. Healthcare reform is something that I pay attention to as my work involves federal health IT systems and so is obviously affected by these kinds of major changes. Both the ARRA legislation and the healthcare reform act (Affordable Care Act) will have a major impact on our industry. Apparently the symbolic gesture will now be followed by attempts to whittle away at the provisions of ACA.

The bee in the bonnet - at least from what little I know - seems to be requiring everyone to have health insurance or pay a fine for not having it. Personally, I think insurance - any insurance - is a bit of a racket. Generally, I think, we end up paying for much more than we receive in return. For example, I've had automobile insurance since I've owned cars. So since 1986, when I bought my first car, I've paid $60-100 a month for this insurance coverage. That's 25 years x 12 months x all those dollars = a whole lot more than the one claim I ever had to process. But most states do require auto insurance. In Virginia, you can not have it, but you have to declare that and I think you pay extra on your car (maybe; I don't really know). From what I understand, there was a hue and cry when automobile insurance first became required, as well. Now I think most people take it as a given.

But the other thing I think about is the difference in costs - auto vs. health. Worst case scenario, your car is totaled. For most of us, that's not more than $20k or $30k that the insurance company would have to shell out. Considering I've paid out about $20k insurance over the years, seems about right. But the costs associated with health are both larger and potentially longer. Your car gets totaled; you get a new car; you essentially start the car process all over again. Your new car isn't affected by the old car's accident.

But with your health, everything that happens can have long-term consequences. That same accident that totaled your car may have hurt you as well. Probably did in fact. And only a few days in the hospital can quickly equal the total of what we have paid into health insurance. So I believe that health insurance actually is worth paying for. The other reason that health insurance is important is for preventive care. Most auto insurance doesn't cover routine maintenance of your car. But health insurance should cover routine maintenance of your body. Because preventive care has been proven to improve people's health overall and reduce the costs of care in the long term. Without health insurance, people don't go for routine care. They only go when something really bad has happened. And they may not have a usual doctor who knows their history and what medications they may be taking. That can cause problems as well.

So I believe that requiring health insurance will be a good thing. And I believe that Obama was right to push for it. And I'm sad that the House (and others) are trying to whittle away at it.

Fact Or Fiction

My book is going to be a combination of memoir and imagined fiction. The reality of what happened, followed by what might have happened had I taken a different path. It's been interesting to explore what might have happened. But I'm actually finding it harder to write the memoir part.

I've read quite a few autobiographies. I think it's a fascinating glimpse into what makes people tick. Why did they do the things they did? How did they do them? Why?

One of the first autobiographies I read was "Is That It?" by Bob Geldof. He wrote it shortly after Live Aid to explain how these amazing benefit concerts had been pulled together by a relatively unknown punk rock guy. The title came from a kid who was apparently expressing disappointment that the concerts were over. He was waiting for more. I think Geldof chose that title because he himself didn't want the concerts to be the end but rather the start of giving to impoverished Africa. They may have prompted that kind of giving. They also propelled Geldof into something of a statesman's role in trying to figure out how best to use the funds raised. And the concerts themselves went on to spawn many other fund-raising concerts, including Farm Aid.

But as I'm writing my "fact", I have come to wonder about the dialog found in such autobiographies. Now while I'm sure Bob Geldof may remember that one kid's comment as a pivotal one, I doubt that he - or anyone - can recall all the conversations he had with the various performers in the days leading up to the shows. Even writing his story shortly after they happened, I'd be surprised if he recalled the exact words he had with people in the months of planning. I keep meaning to go look at the book and see how much dialog there is. Because that's what I'm struggling with.

It's easy to imagine conversations that might have taken place. For the fictional pieces, I can put myself in the imagined moment and believe that I can create a fairly accurate portrayal of what the conversation might have included.

But trying to recall actual conversations nearly 30 years later, in some cases, seems like an impossible task. I remember the gist of what was said. I remember the outcomes, what happened as a result of the conversations. But even such momentous conversations as my one and only marriage proposal are gone from the reaches of my memory.

I am finding, however, that the details of what happened when - the timeline of the events - is easier to construct now that I have to laid it out. A led to B, which led to C. Or B happened between A and C, and so had to have happened in this timeframe. Names of people who have long since moved out of my life are also coming back. Not easily but gradually. I will end up changing most of the names anyway. After all, the memoir parts are not always comfortable to think about and sometimes include things best left between the two parties involved. So a little fiction will be interjected in the changing of names and possibly a few other elements. The parties who were intimately involved will know the real story. Whether they choose to acknowledge that is up to them.

Which is probably why I have found it easiest to write the "facts" around my relationship with a man who died a few years ago. He's not here to judge me and whether I have told the true tale. Almost no one - in fact, no one besides the two of us - know the actual facts. And my memory is fuzzy at best on some. The other "true" stories will be harder. Because they need to be true enough to be believed and lead to the imagined life stories. But still perhaps a blending of fact and fiction. Remembered or reimagined conversations. Snippets of the true facts laced with true-to-the-best-of-my-recall events.

So not fact or fiction. But instead fact and fiction.

Welcome To The World

Miles Christian Kowalewski was born at 4:36 on Friday, January 14, 2011. We have been waiting for his arrival for almost nine months now. No one more than his parents, of course.

Linnea and Jason will be phenomenal parents. Young Master Miles will never doubt that he is loved. He will be a handsome boy with intelligence to match. He will grow up to respect the environment. He will also respect those who think differently than he does. He will love all humankind, as long as they are respectful of each other, regardless of race, creed, color, sexual orientation, or any of the other qualities that make humanity interesting. He will be honest and caring.

How do I know all of these things? Because he is going to be raised that way.

Feelings Of Inadequacy

A couple of years ago, I was invited to join an advisory board. I met the dean when I was in a marketing role and she was looking for someone from my company to participate on her board. It wouldn't have been me. It would have been one of the senior staff, probably our chief medical officer. In the end, my boss decided not to pursue participation on the advisory board. But the dean and I developed a friendship. About once a quarter, we would meet for lunch. We talked about the changing health industry. Her perspective in academia was very different from mine in industry.

Once I changed companies, the dean asked me to join her board. I told her I didn't think I was senior enough, but she didn't agree. Whoever approves these things at the university must have agreed because I was asked formally. My boss in my new company decided that it was okay for me to be on the board. And so I joined the board.

This year, the college is trying to fund a building for the college on the larger university's campus. The university and the state don't have the money for the building, so the advisory board is trying to help raise the funds. If we can raise some of the money, hopefully it will spur the state to pony up the rest of it.

To raise the funds, the members of the advisory board have been asked to recommend people and companies who might have funds to donate. Large amounts of money. And this is where I feel inadequate. Because I don't have those kinds of connections. I know people who know people, but I don't know anyone directly who has that kind of money. I don't move in those circles. I'm just not that senior.

And I feel bad about that. And it reiterates my feelings that I may not be right for an advisory board. Inadequate.

Party Animal

Most weekends, I have one event to go to. Sometimes it's a concert or some other musical event. Sometimes it's just a meal with a friend. Sometimes it's dinner or something with my family. It's a rare weekend when I have both days completely open, but most of the time that's just fine with me. It's good to have free time, and it's good to have things to look forward to.

This past weekend, I had two events. Friday night, I went with an old friend to see some folks we know play at a local coffeehouse. Before the show, he took me to dinner. The dinner and show was my Christmas present from him - a very nice one indeed. Dinner was at a new restaurant to me, and it was very tasty. After dinner, we headed over to the show, which started at 8 with an opening act. Neither of us particularly liked the opener, but we were looking forward to the trio who would be performing as the main act. One of the guys, the eponymous front man, usually plays with a folk band that has become a national act after years of playing local clubs and bars. His usual bandmates weren't on the bill with him, but rather he was playing with a couple of other folk buddies, including one guy from another band that my friend and I had been seeing for years. It was something he did regularly - every 5 years on his birthday. So with two of the three guys being musicians we enjoyed, we figured the show would be good. And it was, complete with a happy birthday tribute. But it was getting late, and my friend had to get up early, so we left before the encore at about 11 pm. By the time I got home, it was about a half hour later. I read a little before settling down to sleep at a little after midnight.

Saturday night, the rescue with which I volunteer was having an annual fundraiser. The woman who founded the rescue also owns a couple of local restaurants, and the volunteers and others associated with the rescue took over one of those restaurants to eat, drink, and celebrate another year gone by. And to raise some money for the rescue. One of the very active volunteers started the event as a fundraiser for her birthday - instead of giving presents, give to the rescue. A lovely sentiment that had raised quite a bit of money for the rescue each year. The event officially ended at 10, but at 10:30 we were still jawing. And then I stopped by the other restaurant on my way out to get some rescue-related clothing, available only at the other restaurant at the other end of the strip mall. By the time I got to my car, it was again 11 pm. I got home, got ready for bed, and it was almost midnight again.

This was not the norm for me. It had been. In college, I rarely went to bed before midnight. But then again, I arranged it so I never had classes before 10 am if I could help it. And often not before 11 am. And I was younger then. These days, staying up past midnight two days in a row is exhausting.

And it was the second weekend in a row that I had had such late nights. The previous weekend was New Years. My sister-in-law hosted a party on New Years Eve for my brother's birthday, which was later that week, and for the family to celebrate the change of years. The plan had been to have dinner and potentially stay up together till the ball dropped. We didn't make it that late, though. My very pregnant niece and her husband were the first to leave about 10:30 pm. My father and mother made it about another half an hour later. That left me with my brother and his wife, which just seemed like it would be awkward, so I left with my parents. I was pretty tired anyway, so it was probably just as well. I got home a little after 11 and decided that, at that point, I might as well stay up till it was actually midnight. I turned out the light at 12:02.

The next day, New Years Day, some friends were having a holiday party. This particular crowd never runs out of things to say. It was 11 pm before we knew it. I decided that I was beat, having been out late the night before. I headed home, but by the time I got home, got ready for bed, and settled in, it was midnight again. Yawn! The next day, I was exhausted and tried to nap. Unfortunately, I just couldn't quite get comfortable and didn't get the nap in. I was a little appalled that I was so tired, but later that day, my throat started getting sore and I realized that I was getting sick. I thought that explained my tiredness. Though I knew it was also that I'm just not used to being up late anymore. And I'm not as young as I used to be.

I still think of myself as a night owl. I still hate getting out of bed in the morning. But when going to bed at midnight exhausts me so much, I might have to rethink that characterization.

Rewards and Challenges

I'm a type A, control freak with a desire for perfection. If I can't do it right, I'd rather not do it at all. And I'd rather have control over my own destiny than leave it to others. I'm also a planner and very detail-oriented. All of which makes my job both rewarding and challenging.

Rewarding because if there's ever a process that needs a planner and someone to look after all the details, it's proposal management. The entire process is controlled chaos. Bringing together writing from a bunch of different people and trying to make it into a cohesive whole. Managing a schedule that is almost always ridiculously tight. Organizing a team of people, none of whom (or very few of whom) actually report to you. To produce something that has the potential to bring the company millions of dollars if done well and create a great deal of scrutiny on the proposal team if not done well.

Then of course, there's the explicit reward of winning the work. Which may or may not bring a financial bonus as well. But always gives you an implicit sense of accomplishment that sometimes means even more than the explicit award itself. Even a losing proposal has an inherent reward, just for getting it done.

Part of the challenge is the need to be flexible, however. You develop a schedule. You plan for how the process is supposed to come together. And then you have to recognize that it's just never going to happen that way. No proposal has ever followed the schedule. Deadlines almost always have to slip. Sometimes you get good writing. More often than not, it's okay but needs to be tweaked substantially. And I don't care how long you have to work on a proposal, that last few days is always crazy as you try to corral the chaos into a final, compliant, and well-written document - or three.

Another challenge comes from my perfectionist side. No proposal is ever perfect. As many times as I read the pages, there's almost always something that slips through - a typo or the wrong word choice. There comes a point where you just have to let it go. To recognize that it's as good as it's going to get in the time allotted and the chaos that has ensued. My perfectionist self doesn't always like that, but it's a fact of the job.

The biggest challenge comes from the lack of control over my work life and the fact that all the planning in the world can't account for every crisis that may hit. My schedule is in constant flux. That makes it very hard to commit to anything outside of work. I have a friend who joined a local choir, and I thought that would be something I'd enjoy. But they have practice every Tuesday night, and I just can't promise that I'll be available every Tuesday. At some point in most proposals, working late into the evening just is required. On some proposals, it becomes more the rule than the exception. The same is true for doing volunteer work on the weekends. Some weekends, I can be reasonably certain that I won't have to work. And then a RFP will come out when it wasn't expected. Or the schedule for one I'm working will slip and the time will have to be made up using the weekends. Or in some cases, the proposal team just expects the weekends to be worked, though I try not to let that happen too often. So I can sign up for volunteer work, but I can't always make it in the end. And I can't commit to a certain number of hours a month. Because I never know how much time I'm really going to have.

The final challenge - and the one that's been keeping me up this week - is that proposals are always in the middle of a financial tug-of-war. Senior management and stockholders expect the business to grow at a certain rate every year. That growth cannot be composed of just growing existing work. It has to include new work, because inevitably some old programs are going to shrink or go away altogether. So we constantly need to respond to RFPs for new work. But there's a cost to responding, and that cost has to be covered by our profits. Because those of us who work exclusively on proposals don't bring in any money from working on programs. And it's the programs that generate income - direct income. Proposals are indirect work - work that may generate income, but may not. There's risk in that, and it's a balance that has to be managed carefully. You can't spend more money going after new work than is generated by the work you have. And yet, you are required to bring in new work all the time. So we have to try to squeeze in as much proposal work as we can for as little money as possible, and we need to limit the number of proposals we work that we don't win - because that's essentially wasted money spent. Realistically, companies know they can't win everything. But there's a percentage of winning that's expected, again to generate new work for the company and to cover the expense of getting the work in the first place.

Some days, I think I'm in the perfect job for me. And some days, I'm not so sure. But then again, that's true of most of life, isn't it?

Not An Auspicious Beginning

The new year has not been good for my health. I came down with a sore throat on New Year's Day. Since then, my cold has moved into my head. I'm hoping it doesn't make it down to my chest, but not convinced it's going to happen.

I'm not the only one who has started the new year without good health. Both my parents are sick as well. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's my father who gave me the cold. Dad is a day ahead of my mother in his cold, so he's mostly better today.

I talked to one of my cousins today. She's also been sick since the new year. Of course, she also saw my parents recently. I think my parents must have had a particularly virulent strain of cold.

My brother arrived from South Carolina on December 22 with a cold as well. He was pretty sick until Christmas, when he finally felt better. I don't think his cold is the same one that my parents have since he was gone before they got sick. I had thought I might get his cold since he was staying with me. But I dodged that particular bullet. Only to get hit by the next one.

Many of my colleagues have also started the new year sick. I could blame them for my cold or they could blame me for theirs, except that I haven't actually been in an office in the new year.

I worked at home until today. Today I was in a meeting in person with about 15 other people. I made a point of not shaking anyone's hand, but I did pass out my business card to a few people, so I'm concerned about them. I was one of several sick people in the room today, however. So we probably all shared our germs.

Because that's how it works. Human contact = germs. Happy New Year!