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.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
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?
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?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
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!
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!
Friday, December 31, 2010
This Year In Review
Here it is again, the last day of the year. Time for reflection on the past year.
This year, I bought a new home and sold my old one. In this economy, the fact that my old home sold in about two weeks is quite remarkable. I had done a fair amount of work on the house over the years, including a kitchen upgrade. I got a good price for it, just about what I had planned on. The first new house on which I made an offer was turned down. While it was a beautiful end-unit townhouse in Herndon, ultimately, I'm not sorry that I didn't get it because it might have actually been too big and maybe even a little too pricey. There were a couple of other townhouses that I would have been perfectly happy in and on which I didn't get a chance to even make offers. The housing market this spring and early summer was still lively in Northern Virginia. Interestingly, the townhouse that I ultimately bought is nearly the twin of one in Leesburg owned by an old classmate. I've always thought her house was lovely, and now I have one very similar. The only thing I would change if I could is that it's not an end-unit. But it's certainly a very comfortable home in a lovely Fairfax neighborhood, and the cats and I will be happy here for many years to come.
This year, I changed jobs again. Remarkably, I ended up with a new job within about a week of losing the old one. While the paperwork was completing and to cover all the bases, I did apply to and interview for several other positions. I talked to a career counselor type, as well. One of the things he remarked upon was that it looked like I was a job-hopper. I wish there was some way to indicate on a resume when changing jobs was not your choice, without making it seem as if you weren't good at the job. In my recent job history, I've only left a job a few times. Most of the time, either the company went belly up or the job was reorganized out of existence - neither of which is a reflection on my abilities. Still, without a consistent job history, finding the next opportunity gets tough. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Considering that I'm almost 50, it might be too late, huh?
This year, I still didn't find love. For the first four months of the year, I tried the online dating thing. Again. I know several people who have found love that way, so I keep being optimistic that it will work for me. And since I work with primarily married men and do volunteer work primarily with women, I haven't met anyone just living my life. But no nibbles online. I don't know whether it's the gray hair, the fact that I don't photograph particularly well, or my online bio, but no man even wanted to meet me for a first date. I have to admit that is ego-crushing.
This year, I decided to make a concerted effort to write a book. I've been ostensibly writing a book, though not the same book, since I was 22. I have had outlines and ideas, but never have committed to a deadline to get it done. Inspired by a friend who rode his bike across the country for his 50th birthday, I decided to make completing a book by MY 50th birthday my goal. I have the idea, and I think it's a good one. I've been trying to make myself write more, particularly in the past month. Each story/chapter is at least started. The goal is not necessarily to get it published, just to complete it, to be able to say it was written.
This year, I was not as good as I have been in years past about doing volunteer work. I only had one brief foray as a foster for cats or kittens looking for a new home. I didn't do my usual spring kitten fostering because of my move. And somehow too many weekends ended up devoted to working rather than volunteering. I think I may have racked up about one time a month, but that's about as good as it gets. When I see the devotion of many of the others in the rescue, I feel guilty that I can't give more of my time. But I do what I can and can only hope that it's enough. I take comfort in the fact that the rescue placed more than 2,000 animals this year.
This year, I was honored to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. What an amazing feat! And what an amazing setting in which to celebrate - a beautiful home on the point of a bay in Punta Gorda, Florida, with a 270 degree view of the water and facing west for amazing sunsets. It was an intimate party with only about 20 people, but it was full of love and that's really all you need (to paraphrase John Lennon).
This year, I was pleased to continue to be healthy. I started the year with a bit of a health scare. I'm not sure I've ever been so happy to be diagnosed as normal in my life. I am also grateful that my friends and family are healthy as well. I had a couple of other friends go through their own health scares, most of which are under control at this writing. My aged parents got through the year without any serious health situations. My siblings and their spouses are all healthy.
This year, I was happy more days than I was unhappy. I like my life. I have the love of my family and friends and a couple of cats. I am a respected member of an amazing team of people at work, the intelligence of whom I am constantly inspired by. I live in a comfortable home and earn enough money not to have to worry about how I'm going to get by. Even with health scares, losing my job, and not finding a man to share my life, it was overall a good year. And really you can't ask for much more than that.
Bring on 2011. I'm ready.
This year, I bought a new home and sold my old one. In this economy, the fact that my old home sold in about two weeks is quite remarkable. I had done a fair amount of work on the house over the years, including a kitchen upgrade. I got a good price for it, just about what I had planned on. The first new house on which I made an offer was turned down. While it was a beautiful end-unit townhouse in Herndon, ultimately, I'm not sorry that I didn't get it because it might have actually been too big and maybe even a little too pricey. There were a couple of other townhouses that I would have been perfectly happy in and on which I didn't get a chance to even make offers. The housing market this spring and early summer was still lively in Northern Virginia. Interestingly, the townhouse that I ultimately bought is nearly the twin of one in Leesburg owned by an old classmate. I've always thought her house was lovely, and now I have one very similar. The only thing I would change if I could is that it's not an end-unit. But it's certainly a very comfortable home in a lovely Fairfax neighborhood, and the cats and I will be happy here for many years to come.
This year, I changed jobs again. Remarkably, I ended up with a new job within about a week of losing the old one. While the paperwork was completing and to cover all the bases, I did apply to and interview for several other positions. I talked to a career counselor type, as well. One of the things he remarked upon was that it looked like I was a job-hopper. I wish there was some way to indicate on a resume when changing jobs was not your choice, without making it seem as if you weren't good at the job. In my recent job history, I've only left a job a few times. Most of the time, either the company went belly up or the job was reorganized out of existence - neither of which is a reflection on my abilities. Still, without a consistent job history, finding the next opportunity gets tough. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Considering that I'm almost 50, it might be too late, huh?
This year, I still didn't find love. For the first four months of the year, I tried the online dating thing. Again. I know several people who have found love that way, so I keep being optimistic that it will work for me. And since I work with primarily married men and do volunteer work primarily with women, I haven't met anyone just living my life. But no nibbles online. I don't know whether it's the gray hair, the fact that I don't photograph particularly well, or my online bio, but no man even wanted to meet me for a first date. I have to admit that is ego-crushing.
This year, I decided to make a concerted effort to write a book. I've been ostensibly writing a book, though not the same book, since I was 22. I have had outlines and ideas, but never have committed to a deadline to get it done. Inspired by a friend who rode his bike across the country for his 50th birthday, I decided to make completing a book by MY 50th birthday my goal. I have the idea, and I think it's a good one. I've been trying to make myself write more, particularly in the past month. Each story/chapter is at least started. The goal is not necessarily to get it published, just to complete it, to be able to say it was written.
This year, I was not as good as I have been in years past about doing volunteer work. I only had one brief foray as a foster for cats or kittens looking for a new home. I didn't do my usual spring kitten fostering because of my move. And somehow too many weekends ended up devoted to working rather than volunteering. I think I may have racked up about one time a month, but that's about as good as it gets. When I see the devotion of many of the others in the rescue, I feel guilty that I can't give more of my time. But I do what I can and can only hope that it's enough. I take comfort in the fact that the rescue placed more than 2,000 animals this year.
This year, I was honored to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. What an amazing feat! And what an amazing setting in which to celebrate - a beautiful home on the point of a bay in Punta Gorda, Florida, with a 270 degree view of the water and facing west for amazing sunsets. It was an intimate party with only about 20 people, but it was full of love and that's really all you need (to paraphrase John Lennon).
This year, I was pleased to continue to be healthy. I started the year with a bit of a health scare. I'm not sure I've ever been so happy to be diagnosed as normal in my life. I am also grateful that my friends and family are healthy as well. I had a couple of other friends go through their own health scares, most of which are under control at this writing. My aged parents got through the year without any serious health situations. My siblings and their spouses are all healthy.
This year, I was happy more days than I was unhappy. I like my life. I have the love of my family and friends and a couple of cats. I am a respected member of an amazing team of people at work, the intelligence of whom I am constantly inspired by. I live in a comfortable home and earn enough money not to have to worry about how I'm going to get by. Even with health scares, losing my job, and not finding a man to share my life, it was overall a good year. And really you can't ask for much more than that.
Bring on 2011. I'm ready.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Sleeping In - Not Really
Today is a slow day, the end of a holiday week that was, for the most part, slower than most. Had a little drama on Tuesday and Wednesday trying to get a response out the door, but all in all, a much quieter week than I usually experience.
As today was going to be a slow day, I decided I would sleep in. Last night, as I prepared for bed, I turned off my alarm. I would let my body tell me when it was ready to get up. In my experience, that's usually around 9 am. As my first and only meeting of the day was at 11:30, I figured I could get away with not rising at my usual 6:30 am.
It was a good theory, but in reality - as they say - not so much.
As I think I've written before, I'm not really a sound sleeper. Quite the opposite in fact. I often describe my ability to sleep through noise this way - my cats walking in the room wakes me up. Any cat owner will tell you that cats can make an amazing amount of noise when they choose to, even if they do step lightly most of the time. But in general, when a cat walks around the house, it's not noticeable.
Maybe it's the equivalent of the mom-ears that I understand women develop to hear a crying child? Though you would think that I would only hear a cat in distress, not a cat merely roaming the halls at night. But no, I'm not that lucky.
What I really hear usually is their claws on the carpet. A sign that it's time for them to be trimmed. Still, most people would not notice that level of noise when asleep. Guess I'm just talented.
Last night, Mia decided to not just walk into my bedroom at 4 am, but to come racing in, claws fully engaged at keeping her balanced, and vocalizing to boot. At 4 am! She has been known to do this on a given morning when I haven't gotten up in time - whatever she perceives that time to be - to feed them. Most mornings, that's somewhere between 5:30 and 6. On work days, my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I lie in bed listening to the CD that's playing, dozing, and thinking about the day to come. Somehow, usually, Mia recognizes that process and generally doesn't vocalize too much in her attempt to get me up that much sooner.
So I was surprised that she decided this morning that it was time to get up at 4 am. Since I'm used to this behavior on weekend mornings and since my alarm wasn't set, I assumed it was time to get up, feed the fur children, and go back to bed for the rest of the morning. But no, it was only 4 am.
In frustration, I decided to close the door with the cats on the outside. That way, I thought foolishly, I would not be awoken between 5:30 and 6 and would be able to make up for the shorter night with a little more lazing about in the am.
Wrong! Somehow, and I still don't know how she did it, Mia was on the inside when I shut the door. So much for keeping the cats from disturbing me. About 4:30, she made her presence known by crying at the door to be let out. She's not one to be locked in, my Mia.
So at 4:30 I was up again, opening the door to let Mia out and to keep Brie from coming in. A quick open and close. Heart racing a bit, I crawled back in bed. Cozy again under the covers, ready to sleep in.
Then at some point - I didn't look at the clock - there was bump on the door. Thump! Someone was trying to get back into the bedroom. I don't really know which cat it was, but I'd put money on Mia. She's never met a door she didn't want to be on the other side of. Once again, my sleeping in was thwarted.
Then it was my own body that betrayed me! I woke up about 7, the time I usually get up to feed the cats on the weekend. You would think that since I'd really essentially been up since 4, my body would have slept past the 7 mark. But no. I figured that I might as well get up and feed the cats or at some point, the thumping on the door would become more regular as they decided that it was time to be fed.
7:15, back in bed again. This time, it wasn't the cats that disturbed my sleep. It was a dream. Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare really. Not a nightmare, but an unhappy dream. A dream from which I woke myself because I didn't really want to be having it. I rolled over and tried again.
Woke for the final time at 9 am. I could have turned over one more time since, as I said, I didn't really have anything to do until 11:30. But I was actually feeling refreshed. Huh?
So that was my morning of sleeping in. Awoken at least four or five times between 4 and 9. Sleeping in - not really.
As today was going to be a slow day, I decided I would sleep in. Last night, as I prepared for bed, I turned off my alarm. I would let my body tell me when it was ready to get up. In my experience, that's usually around 9 am. As my first and only meeting of the day was at 11:30, I figured I could get away with not rising at my usual 6:30 am.
It was a good theory, but in reality - as they say - not so much.
As I think I've written before, I'm not really a sound sleeper. Quite the opposite in fact. I often describe my ability to sleep through noise this way - my cats walking in the room wakes me up. Any cat owner will tell you that cats can make an amazing amount of noise when they choose to, even if they do step lightly most of the time. But in general, when a cat walks around the house, it's not noticeable.
Maybe it's the equivalent of the mom-ears that I understand women develop to hear a crying child? Though you would think that I would only hear a cat in distress, not a cat merely roaming the halls at night. But no, I'm not that lucky.
What I really hear usually is their claws on the carpet. A sign that it's time for them to be trimmed. Still, most people would not notice that level of noise when asleep. Guess I'm just talented.
Last night, Mia decided to not just walk into my bedroom at 4 am, but to come racing in, claws fully engaged at keeping her balanced, and vocalizing to boot. At 4 am! She has been known to do this on a given morning when I haven't gotten up in time - whatever she perceives that time to be - to feed them. Most mornings, that's somewhere between 5:30 and 6. On work days, my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I lie in bed listening to the CD that's playing, dozing, and thinking about the day to come. Somehow, usually, Mia recognizes that process and generally doesn't vocalize too much in her attempt to get me up that much sooner.
So I was surprised that she decided this morning that it was time to get up at 4 am. Since I'm used to this behavior on weekend mornings and since my alarm wasn't set, I assumed it was time to get up, feed the fur children, and go back to bed for the rest of the morning. But no, it was only 4 am.
In frustration, I decided to close the door with the cats on the outside. That way, I thought foolishly, I would not be awoken between 5:30 and 6 and would be able to make up for the shorter night with a little more lazing about in the am.
Wrong! Somehow, and I still don't know how she did it, Mia was on the inside when I shut the door. So much for keeping the cats from disturbing me. About 4:30, she made her presence known by crying at the door to be let out. She's not one to be locked in, my Mia.
So at 4:30 I was up again, opening the door to let Mia out and to keep Brie from coming in. A quick open and close. Heart racing a bit, I crawled back in bed. Cozy again under the covers, ready to sleep in.
Then at some point - I didn't look at the clock - there was bump on the door. Thump! Someone was trying to get back into the bedroom. I don't really know which cat it was, but I'd put money on Mia. She's never met a door she didn't want to be on the other side of. Once again, my sleeping in was thwarted.
Then it was my own body that betrayed me! I woke up about 7, the time I usually get up to feed the cats on the weekend. You would think that since I'd really essentially been up since 4, my body would have slept past the 7 mark. But no. I figured that I might as well get up and feed the cats or at some point, the thumping on the door would become more regular as they decided that it was time to be fed.
7:15, back in bed again. This time, it wasn't the cats that disturbed my sleep. It was a dream. Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare really. Not a nightmare, but an unhappy dream. A dream from which I woke myself because I didn't really want to be having it. I rolled over and tried again.
Woke for the final time at 9 am. I could have turned over one more time since, as I said, I didn't really have anything to do until 11:30. But I was actually feeling refreshed. Huh?
So that was my morning of sleeping in. Awoken at least four or five times between 4 and 9. Sleeping in - not really.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Too Much
Every day when I wake up, I automatically make a mental list of everything I need to do that day. Same thing happens at night before bed. I make a list of what needs to be done the next day. Lists rule my life.
The list generally includes both immediate goals - things to be done that day - and longer-term goals - things to do that week, month, or eventually. I am finding that the "eventually" list is getting unwieldy. Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but it's getting to be a long list full of very ambitious things.
For example, one of the items on this list was to start writing in my blog again. It has been a while since I wrote regularly. I'd like to get back to that. But it was always a challenge to find both time and topics. I will try again, and we will just see how it goes.
Another task is my book. I have actually started the writing of said book. There's an outline and most of the "chapters", i.e., stories have been started. But I made the mistake of doing the math on how much I need to write every week to get it done. Assuming about 500 pages in two years is 250 pages a year, right? That's 5 pages a week. Now that doesn't sound like much until you try to find the time to write every week. Realistically I'm not going to have time every week. The last week is a prime example of a week with no time and it was a holiday week. So really I need to write more than 5 pages a week. Daunting.
On top of that, my mentor and I think I should get my PMP. Which means either a course or studying. More time challenges either way. Not to mention money for the course if I do that. At this point, even the idea if the application is daunting. And if they audit again - oh boy! Yikes!
And then there are the constant items on the list: eating better and exercising more.
In the meantime, there's my busy job. Which I need to go do. Forgive the typos on this post. Done on cell phone and no time to edit.
Too much.
The list generally includes both immediate goals - things to be done that day - and longer-term goals - things to do that week, month, or eventually. I am finding that the "eventually" list is getting unwieldy. Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but it's getting to be a long list full of very ambitious things.
For example, one of the items on this list was to start writing in my blog again. It has been a while since I wrote regularly. I'd like to get back to that. But it was always a challenge to find both time and topics. I will try again, and we will just see how it goes.
Another task is my book. I have actually started the writing of said book. There's an outline and most of the "chapters", i.e., stories have been started. But I made the mistake of doing the math on how much I need to write every week to get it done. Assuming about 500 pages in two years is 250 pages a year, right? That's 5 pages a week. Now that doesn't sound like much until you try to find the time to write every week. Realistically I'm not going to have time every week. The last week is a prime example of a week with no time and it was a holiday week. So really I need to write more than 5 pages a week. Daunting.
On top of that, my mentor and I think I should get my PMP. Which means either a course or studying. More time challenges either way. Not to mention money for the course if I do that. At this point, even the idea if the application is daunting. And if they audit again - oh boy! Yikes!
And then there are the constant items on the list: eating better and exercising more.
In the meantime, there's my busy job. Which I need to go do. Forgive the typos on this post. Done on cell phone and no time to edit.
Too much.
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