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.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, March 11, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 7, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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.
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.
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