Beauty School Dropout: Tales of an Alderwoman

Losing my identity

2012-01-30T14:30:00.000-08:00

When we decided to move to Minneapolis for my husband's job, I figured it would be hard. I anticipated it would feel something like the baby blues, mild bouts of depression for a few months and then eventually it would clear up.

And then you move, and you are just going along with the day-to-day necessities, unpacking, signing kids up for school, finding parks, buying more crap to put into your house after you were just appalled at how much crap you had when you moved out of your old house, when all of a sudden you stop and think, “Wait…who am I?” I was thinking this very thought. I was in the throes of identity crisis, wearing a cocktail dress and greeting some new babysitter with whom I was about to leave my kids so I could make my debut at my husband’s new company’s holiday party—when the question hit me square in the face. Who am I? I didn’t know how big my feelings of “who am I” were until I went to put my driver’s license and credit card in a smaller purse (vainly hoping that I looked young enough to be carded) and it was gone. My identity was gone.

Where the hell was my driver’s license? I looked through every crevice of wallet and purse. I attempted to do this calmly trying not to give the babysitter the idea that I was straight out of the Cursing Mommy column in The New Yorker. Oh never mind. I don’t think she read The New Yorker. Shit! Where was my driver’s license? I made a mental list of all the places I’d been that week that could have asked me for my license…the library, the YMCA, the neighborhood recreation center. And then I thought, when I was 28, I would have called the bars to find my ID. At 38, I call the library. WHO AM I?

I grabbed my passport (still convinced I looked young enough to be carded) and went to the party.

The driver’s-license-identity-crisis-snafu was put on the back burner and just became another annoying errand that I had to do. The kind of errand that you have to do, but you don’t really know how to do it, so instead you let the errand just sit in your stomach and rub away at the lining. I would get random pains thinking, “How will I get a Minnesota driver’s license without my old license?” Finally, probably on a day when I felt very certain who I was and very insistent that I had a government ID to prove it, I figured it all out. I filled out the paper work on my computer requesting a new license be issued in my old state. I dug through two boxes to find the cables to hook up the printer. I searched google maps to find a place to make a copy. I found the place. I made a copy of my passport. I stuck it all in an envelope and mailed it off. Done. My identity was requested. And now to wait its arrival.

I missed my driver’s license. It was like this odd little reminder to myself of the mantra that was mounting in my soul, “Nothing got lost in the move but me.” From 9 years of teaching college students about self-fulfilling prophecy, I understood this was not a productive mantra. “Nothing got lost in the move but me.” I kept telling myself anyway. It seemed to describe the subtly awkward taste I had in my mouth on a day-to-day basis when I tried to answer questions like, "Well what do you do for work?" Or worse, the mantra seemed to ring with the tiny vibrations of anxiety that I kept plucking at with my breath when people would fail to ask anything about my job...work...life before Minneapolis.

I knew this feeling of losing my identity was the “hard” part of the move. The part everyone says, “Yeah it’s gonna be hard, but you can do it.” I hear people say that a lot to justify having kids, taking on new life adventures, and moving. Ironically, as soon as things get hard, many of us hate the hard sensations and so we start to criticize old plans and start making new. This feeling lost. This looming question, “Who am I?” This was the hard. And I was in the hard.

As a general practice, I try to stay in the hard. I read a lot of Pema Chodrin. I believe rather than trying to escape the unnerving sensations that I will benefit in the long run if, instead of numbing, I breathe, I stay, I watch. And I lasted in this observatory state for about a week, until I opened my wallet to buy more crap and I realized my Passport was missing. F&#@!!! My identity: gone. Really gone. My skin was red hot and panic set in. I was wavering between exploring what the Universe was trying to tell me and freaking out that someone from the Canadian-owned yoga studio I had just attended was trying to steal my identity. It was a rocky moment. My mantra was back, “Nothing got lost in the move but me.” My vision had closed in. It was narrow and blurry. I started pacing.

I thought what I should do is sit and meditate for 10 minutes and just observe these feelings. What I did instead was begin to piece together how I would go about getting a new passport without a driver’s license in less than month as I was going out of the country in 3 weeks. And when I finally got to the question in my mental processing, “Do I have any copies of my passport?” It hit me. I had left my passport on the copy machine over a week ago when I had made a copy of it to request a new driver’s license. I had lost my identity in attempt to find it.

I called the copy shop. They had my passport in their safe. I went to pick it up immediately. I needed my identity back. And thank goodness that I did as the very next morning, I was pulled over making a left turn on a “No Left Turn from 7am – 9am” street while driving my husband to work because his car wouldn’t start in 16 below zero weather. WHO AM I? I thought of telling the officer, "My husband told me to turn here."

But I thought he might say, “And you do everything your husband tells you to do? Aren’t you a person too?”

To which I may have responded, “Well, Officer, I'm getting there.”

All I really need to know I learned when my kid went to kindergarten

2011-05-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

I laughed when I looked at my blog today--finally feeling like writing--and I realized that the last time I wrote, my 6 year old was starting kindergarten. In two weeks, he’ll be graduating.

In honor, I thought I would bring some reality to the book title, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.” Robert Fulghum’s popular book supposes that the lessons of kindergarten prepare children for the future challenges we face as an adult. Fulghum’s book paints kindergarten as a dreamy place where things like sharing are taught by a fairy-like teacher singing through the classroom. This is true, I think, in some kindergarten classes today.

I would like to make a list with a slightly different title, ”All My Kindergartener Learned in Public Schools with a 30:1 Student/Teacher Ratio.”

· Calling your teacher, “Mrs. FREAKING Teacher,” earns you time in the recovery chair.

· We spend more time on reading and math than art, because art really isn’t very important for being smart.

· White girls can’t like black boys.

· You really do get in trouble if you give the middle finger.

· Some kids steal school supplies.

· Library time means time to play computer games.

· If you are too good, you get ignored.

· You cannot pull girls’ shirts down.

· Scissors are meant for cutting paper not your shirt or your pants.

Some will read this list and find reasons not to attend public schools. Some will read this list and find reasons to invest more money into public schools. In reality it is just a list and some of these lessons will be learned by kids in private, religious and home schools everywhere.

The list is really more of a lesson for the parents than the kids. What we as parents learn when our children start kindergarten is that despite thinking we were in control for five years, we in fact are not. Some of us will spend years denying this and enforcing control in any conceivable way possible—switching schools, demanding teachers, unfriending families, and more. Others will find the lack of control as an easy excuse to blame everyone/thing else for the outcome of their children, shirking any responsibility of their own doing. The challenge of being a parent is to have the ability to love and protect your child at the same time you have the awareness to see when control starts masquerading as love and protection.

And so Fulgham’s book title could maybe be altered again to read, “All Parents Really Need to Know their Kids Teach them in Kindergarten.”

I am ready to get on with my life

2010-08-19T09:19:00.000-07:00

These are the words of my five year old on the eve of his first day of kindergarten. And Yes, I am a mother who cries when her kids go off to school. Sometimes people think we are sad because we want to cling on to our children—keep them young forever. This is not the case for me, as I count down the days until they can ride with me on long road rides, go off to college and maybe visit on the holidays. Yet, I still am drawn inward and become sullen when the major life milestones pass me by.

These events are a reminder of the human condition of impermanence, and our undying attempts to make things permanent. Ironically, the word, “settled,” carries a positive connotation in our culture. “Now I finally feel settled.” We reach and grasp to feel like we have everything under control, only to be reminded we don’t.

Going to kindergarten is much like this. As parents we’ve been besieged with figuring out how to live with tiny humans in our life. When they come into the world, they disrupt our sleep, our social life, our emotions, our finances. And after five years we finally begin to feel settled. And then you send them to kindergarten and the uncertainty begins again.

And so we begin again clutching to any control we can find—packing the right lunch, having the right school supplies, reading the best books. And maybe these help. And maybe they don’t. Sometimes it is enjoyable to be gloomy and soak in the passing of time and the reality that you have no control.

Children get impermanence. Of all the kids who showed up for their first day of school at a large, urban K-8 public school, not one student was crying. They were all ready to get on with their lives. They all grasp that life is changing. As a child it changes constantly—lose a tooth, grow a tooth, jump a shoe size, shoot up the measuring chart. A child is standing on the balls of their feet, knees slightly bent, looking at the world like, “What’s next?”

We are taught as parents today to help make them feel secure by giving them “lovies” or “stuffies”--objects of permanence that can help them feel like they can control their world. Are these items of stability really helping our kids? Or are they acculturating them to cling on to stuff and moments, only to feel great loss when they are gone?

These are questions for which I do not have the answer, but they are worthy of consideration. And for today, I am taking the lead from my five year old, and getting on with my life.

Training Day

2010-05-20T08:42:00.000-07:00

The reason I sign up for a race is to give me an excuse to train. I love my 5 hour training rides more than showing up to the start line on any race day. Race days suck. They are full of nerves and catastrophes. I’ve decided that if you don’t love to train, you shouldn’t race. On May 29^th I will race from Durango, CO to Silverton, CO. This is my 4^th year either riding or racing the Ironhorse Classic. It would be my 5^th, except one year the race got cancelled at the last minute due to snow, which only emphasizes my point.

I spend all my free time in March, April and May, jumping on my bike any chance I can get, just to be ready for Ironhorse. All of the time and money spent on babysitters and ignoring other duties puts a lot of stress on race day paying off. But the secret is, I don’t care what happens on race day. I am just so damn excited that I got to spend three months on my bike preparing for it.

This attitude is a helpful perspective when racing, because I find races are more often a disaster than not. One year I locked handlebars and wheels with another cyclist in the pack while cruising along at a mere 30mph. Amazingly we both stayed up right, but I had to finish the race with my front brake released and a 1 inch wobble in my front tire. I did better than the guy in front of us who was taken out by a large cone in the road. I hope he enjoyed training more than racing as well.

Last year, my husband and I both spent all spring preparing for the race. He left early in the morning to get to his race start. On the way to my race start (an hour later) I passed my husband on the side of the road ripping his tire off his bike—he flatted on the way to the start, and missed his race. He still rode the 47 mile and 5700 ft of climbing course for the fun of it.

So as I was doing a training ride up Squaw Pass the other day and the blizzard came upon me, I thought it is sure a good thing that I love training more than racing, because a race is just one day. Training can go on forever.

Follow my training tweets: #IHBC

Please don't make me drive

2009-10-06T20:06:00.000-07:00

I would choose a bike over a car any day; any weather. Here’s why:

Yesterday I decided to drive to a new yoga class that I was going to attend. Although the studio was only 3 miles away, I decided to drive for a couple of reasons. First, it was cold and rainy. This is not usually a big deterrent however, I am trying desperately to avoid the flu that all my college students, and now children, have. Moreover, the yoga class was in a heated room, so biking home all sweaty in the cold dark night, also seemed like a bad idea. Second, I had to drive a little further before the class to pick up my share from the Community Supported Agriculture group to which I belong. And as I have tweeted before, the worst part about riding a bike is that you don’t have a trunk. I was a little afraid that walking into a new studio with loads of chard, kale, eggs, beats, and potatoes seemed a little obnoxious.

Therefore I drove. Ugghh… I had to pay for parking—not so bad considering it was only 75 cent. The Ugghh part comes from the return home after class. I live on a one-way street with parking on both sides of the street. Parking during the day is easy to find. Parking after 6pm is difficult, even more difficult when it is the first week of the month and you have to avoid parking on certain sides of the street for street-sweeping days.

I drove around and around looking for parking for over 45 minutes. This “looking” included trying several spots that didn’t fit; or maybe could have worked if a line of 15 cars weren’t behind me honking their horns. AND, I am a good parallel parker. Finally after the frustrating realization that a 10 minute commute home from class had now turned into a 1 HOUR commute home, I decided I was going to make this last spot work. It was around 3 blocks from my house and just about enough space between a BMW and a Cadillac. Luckily there was no traffic, and no observers. I probably spent another 15 minutes going back and forth, back and forth, until my Toyota minivan (as if the car is not teased enough) is wedged in bumper to bumper.

At this point I decide it is a bad idea to leave my car bumper to bumper and that I might come back in the morning with my tires slashed. However, I am also extremely anxious that it has taken me 1 ½ hours to get home and I have students waiting for me to email out study guides that have yet to be created. I also think it could take me another 45 minutes to get out of this spot.

I trudge home slinging vegetables, eggs and a yoga mat in so precarious of positions that I know I am undoing any benefits of the previous yoga class.

And the misery doesn’t end here. I was so karma-ically worried about a rude park job that I woke up 3 times with bad dreams in the middle of the night and could not fall back asleep because of the stress of parking my car. Finally my husband had to tell me to go to sleep, it was just a car.

So today, I had to go back to this same studio. I rode my bike. It took me 12 minutes to get there. It took me 16 minutes to get home. I was singing and happy when I walked in the door. I am looking forward to sleeping well tonight with good karma back on my side.

P.S. My minivan tires were not slashed, and thankfully one car had moved so I could get out. Where did I drive it? Across to the other side of the street to avoid street sweeping days.

FB is only weird to us

2009-08-03T21:39:00.000-07:00

I have heard many people say, “It’s so weird, I am friends and talking with people from high school I never would have.” The problem with this statement is that people over 25 – 30 generally think this is weird. They find it weird that an old high school friend has contacted them and they don’t remember their maiden name or who they were. They find it weird that someone they despised in high school is now asking to be their friend. They ponder questions and big newspapers write articles on philosophical mind-blowers like, “To Friend your parents or not friend your parents.”

What is funny about all of this is not the answer to any of these social questions; but the lack of foresight on the slice of a generation to whom this matters. We think it is a huge change in social connections that people now show up at a high school reunion and instead of asking what have you been doing the past year, say, “I saw your pics on FB from the family trip to Wallabee.”
But here is my point. We think this is weird. No one else ever will.

We think this is weird, because we are the last generation (or generations) that will remember what it was like before social networking. From today forward, people will always be connected; and despite the older generations fear of the younger generation having few privacy morals; they will probably have more than we do. In high school, they will already have their FB friend list; to expand it in the future would be asinine. Future generations will use phrases like, “You weren’t my FB friend in HS; why would you be my FB friend now?”

Conversely, those over 30 see these things as major questions, “do I friend this friend from high school? If so, than I might have to friend so and so…” Or do I friend a work associate? My boss? My ex-boyfriend? “ Yet, most of these answers will be decided by younger generations by the time they are 11.

So many of us mistakenly think these are new awkward social questions for generations to come. However, it is only an issue for us. For our generation. We are special. No generation before us has wondered about these questions; and no generation after us will either.

More I would nevers

2009-07-05T17:24:00.001-07:00

Princess vs. Guns

2009-06-04T15:00:00.000-07:00

I do not have daughters. I have many friends with daughters, but none of my own. I often hear parents of daughters struggle with the princess dilemma—do we introduce our girls to princesses? Can we keep them from seeing them? Is it okay to let them watch Disney movies with Princesses? Should we allow them to buy princess toys? clothes? backpacks. The arguments usually go on and on supporting the good and bad sides of princess exposure. The conversations almost always end with a sigh, “Well that’s all my daughter is interested in and there is nothing I can do about it.” And so the story goes, and many girls go on to love, admire and fantasize about the world of royalty.

As a scholar of gender roles, feminism, self-development, these discussions interest me greatly, but I always walk away thinking, “You’ve got it so easy.” Most parents of boys have this same conundrum, only the desired object does not come from a fairy tale of such, but rather Star Wars. Our taboo topic is guns. Much like little girls are enthralled with princesses, little boys are fascinated with guns. Parents of boys debate the gun issue as fiercely as parents of girls debate the princess issue.

Yet there is a grave difference between the princess battle and the gun battle. When parents give in to their daughter’s princess obsession, she may offend a few radical feminists and Disney-is-the-devil-type folks, but typically most people understand. However, when parents of boys give in to their son’s gun obsession, it is met with verbal protest from friends, family and strangers. As a mom of boys who play with toy guns, I have been asked to hide the guns when other kids come over and told to keep all guns and light-sabers at home if they visit other friends at their homes. I am guessing most parents of girls have not been told to leave their princess backpack at home or told to hide the princess castle before friends come over.

Just last week, I was at the park observing my kids play with another boy and his hovering mother. They were playing lions with her and having a good time until my 2 and 4 year old took out their finger-guns and started firing away. She gave me a sharp look from across the playground and said, “I will not continue to play with them if they do that again.” I wanted to say, “What if they waved their magic wand and turned you into a frog? Would that be better?” Instead, I just told them that some people don’t like guns so we don’t play guns around those people.

And yes, I have had in depth discussions with my boys as to why people do not like guns, and that guns are hurtful, powerful and dangerous. And yes, my boys cry when hunters kill Bambi, but they still like guns. My four year old came close to rationalizing it once when he said, “Mommy, I didn’t know they did anything, I just thought they made loud noises.”

I could spend the rest of the blog debating whether or not you should let you sons play with toy guns, much like some parents spend their time debating whether their girls should be exposed to princesses. But that is not the point of the blog. The point of the blog is that when both debates end and most parents end up at the same place, “Well there’s not much we can do, because that’s all they are interested in,” the public backlash falls heavier on parents of kids who choose to play with guns.

So when parents fret over whether their girls will get the wrong idea of self-esteem or women’s roles by an obsession with princesses, I am secretly envious. Society is a lot nicer to a little girl who wears a tutu, than a boy who packs a pistol.

I would never...

2009-05-06T17:20:00.000-07:00

More things I thought I would never let my children do...ride around on battery operated machinery. Lucky for my boys, someone else who thought that, followed through with their intentions and handed us their hand-me-down.

Garbage removal and the freedoms it affords me

2009-04-24T12:10:00.000-07:00

One thing that is truly under-valued in our society—garbage removal. I missed one week of setting out the trash and I spent the whole next week stacking bags of trash in our garage, cursing the smell every time I went in the garage to get my bike. My husband wanted to throw it in the neighbors’ dumpsters, but I try to maintain good relations with the neighbors in case I am ever caught in the alley cross-fire of some scuttle, they may come to my rescue.

As my garbage was piling up and stinking it up, I began to ponder…what did people used to do with garbage? I know one of my friends in Denver said that before the city of Denver had organized trash removal, many people would bury their trash in their backyard (like their own mini-landfill). She said that to this day, she continues to find strange odds and ends creeping up out of her backyard--spoons, frames, candy wrappers. A woman named Katie Kelly wrote a book about the history and future of garbage in 1973 that looks tempting to order used for $2.85. Probably no one could really throw out a book that 's titled Garbage, without at least flinching a little first.

I also began to wonder if the city didn’t come by once a week and pick up my bags of trash, how much time would I spend on my own trash removal? It seemed like it might be kind of time consuming, like I might not have as much time to sit around and blog or update twitter. Hmmm…so garbage removal is to blame for our self-centered-do-nothing-masturbation-of-me culture…

I also wondered, if I were responsible for my own trash removal, how much “greener” I may be. I think I’d be re-using every plastic cottage cheese container smelling it up in my garage for color-crayon storage, makeup bins, jewelry boxes…I’d also be cursing all those individually packaged products out there…come on now, does individually wrapping each prune really increase sales? Do people really think, “oh, goody, now I can stick a prune in my pocket!”?

Anyway, I spent yesterday afternoon neatly piling all the garbage bags around the one garbage can, with hopes and anticipation that the next morning was--yes indeed--GARBAGE DAY! And when I woke up, it brought more joy than Christmas morning to go outside and see that it was all gone. All 7 tall kitchen bags and one can stuffed full of 7 more! It was amazing…like a miracle. And then I spent my whole morning doing yoga—because I could.

"Stop looking at me this could be you"

2009-04-22T16:23:00.000-07:00

said the guy on the ground. This was the scene when I arrived on campus. The students said he'd been this way for at least an hour and a half. Yesterday on campus Metro police were
searching the modular units for burglar suspect... I guess this is what they mean by urban campus?

Recession Sale

2009-04-02T18:06:00.000-07:00

Due to the economic downturn, future homeowners are considering the 1/2 a home purchase option.

Ada Lovelace Day: A tribute to Bente Kalsnes

2009-03-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

I pledged to write a post today about a woman in technology. Specifically the pledge said, “"I will publish a blog post on Tuesday 24th March about a woman in technology whom I admire but only if 1,000 other people will do the same."

Today my blog post is a tribute to Bente Kalsnes. I went to graduate school with Bente at Georgetown where we both received our Master’s in Communication, Culture & Technology. Ever since meeting Bente, her hunger for conquering new technologies and putting them to use has amazed me. She may consider herself a journalist at face value, but in today’s world, to be a successful journalist, you must also understand technology.

I wanted to focus this blog on my favorite things Bente does when presenting technology concepts. First she usually links two or more totally unrelated things together, and then somehow throughout the article makes us understand how they fit.

Secondly, she is never afraid to ask questions about technology and learn how to use new tools, applications or information. This is a rare trait for people in technology. Most people tend to err on the side of knowing, when in fact they don’t.

And finally, technology applies to all parts of her life. Her shopping, her environment, her travel her friends. Bente encompasses today’s technologist. And only a woman could be so successful at multi-tasking!

Thanks for your contribution to science and technology, Bente. It is truly not all about zeros and ones.

See more blogs for Ada Lovelace Day here.

Two and 1/2 brave men

2009-03-22T11:44:00.001-07:00

The walk over the bridge on I-25 after dessert at Little Man Icecream in Northwest Denver.

Wife of a traveling husband

2009-03-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

My husband travels a lot. And in today's economy you are supposed to say, "Well at least he has a job."

And I agree. But also, tonight as he was able to stop home for 2 hours before he took a red-eye to Atlanta, I would also like to say, "I miss him."

As parents, we make a lot of sacrifices to get the life we want. Some parents have to work 2 jobs and put their kids in full-time day care, some parents get to have one parent work all the time and the other parent be the full time "face-parent", other parents live parallel lives as they exchange watching the child for fulfilling their career. And some don't have the luxury from which to choose from any of these options.

My purpose of this blog is to say thank you to my husband for working so hard, so that I can take care of the kids and teach at a college that pays nothing.

But whatever our circumstance, when one parent is gone more than another, I really just want to recognize....we do miss the other parent and at the same time you are a motivating infulence upon us all.

ps. and i think the kids still remember your name. ;) had to add a little humor to my sappy blog.

Recovery and taking time off

2009-03-01T22:11:00.001-08:00

My last race in the Chilly Cheeks race series was my hardest—mentally. I knew I could show up, ride 10 miles and run 4 miles. The problem was, I get so competitive. So the real question was, could I show up and not stress myself out by trying to bike so hard and run so fast?

Well I was lucky on the ride. It was freezing. I really had nothing else to think about for 10 miles other than, “Turn your legs over.” Although around mile 9, I did realize, “I will not be able to feel my feet when I start running…”

The run was my salvation. My last 5k I ran in under 8 minute miles. However, I also felt “slightly injured” for the following 3 weeks. So I decided to take it easy and not play mental games with who was passing me, and trying to keep up with so and so.

Having my iShuffle helped. After about a mile into the run, when I actually could feel my feet, The Killers' song, All these things I’ve done erupted into my ear. I messed with the homophones of the lyrics. The original lyrics are:

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more sun
One more sun
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on

Mentally, I replaced “sun” with “son.” Given the fact I have two sons, and everyone in my family has sons, I viewed it as a good time to observe why I was running, and why it was a blessing/responsibility that I was NOT pregnant again. I do not want to have more children, but sometimes I think it is an excuse to take it easy on my body if I were pregnant, therefore I asked myself, “When there’s nowhere else to run, Is there room for one more son?”

I looked around at the blue sky and felt the beautiful intenseness of biking and running and picked up the pace, deciding I was happier to be running than not running.

Shortly after this random thought, Ellen Hart passed me. She is over 50 and took 3rd place in the Hawaii Ironman World Championships in her age group. I tried to yell go, “….” but her name escaped me at the time.

After the race I talked to Ellen, and she said she was just getting back into the swing of things after over-training. I immediately understood, and asked her if she over-trained after Ironman? She said yes. I thought on the way home about how hard we push our bodies as women/people, and the fear of losing what we have accomplished.

I am taking two months off. From what? Who knows. I will still ride my bike to campus, and everywhere else. I’ll still go to yoga 3 – 4 times a week. I’ll still probably run at least once a week, not to “completely lose it.” Maybe I am just taking a month off from mentally recording what I do, but does that mean I actually do less…or maybe more?

My social capital - 100

2009-02-20T06:43:00.001-08:00

So many of the tweets I receive revolve around analyzing people’s twitter influence. For example, just this morning, @davewiner tweeted, “My Twitter influences is “developing.” http://bitly3hcTC. And @acarvin, “Talking about Twitter Counter and Twitter analytics: http://www.twittercounter.com/ #ima09.”

While these analytical tools may be helpful to some in understanding their importance in the twitterverse, I have developed my own method of evaluating mine. After careful consideration, graphing, mapping, charting, channeling…I give myself a score of 100. I am relatively interesting to 100 people out there (give or take a few).

What is my system based on? Common sense. When I post an article on Examiner.com, around 100 people visit the site. Eighty-eight people follow me on Twitter, and as I approach 100, I have noticed the follows are slowing. Where I used to get one or two real follows a day, I now get about one corporate follow (houses, banks, breasts) a week. I have 145 friends on Facebook, but have not seen anything posted from at least 50 of them in the last year, also bringing that number to around 100.

This is not a pity-party. I find this amazing! I am interesting to 100 people. 100 people would like to know what I am thinking, feeling, doing, writing, etc. I find this a huge compliment. It is also a good ego check, when I think that I should be famous, and then I just think of my score—100. That is right, my thoughts are really only interesting to about 100 people.

When I apply my scoring to others (average number of people who read your stuff, follow you on Twitter, and friend you in a social network), I am enthralled with those in the thousands and even hundred thousands. And I know they still wake up grouchy some mornings, but I hope they at least take a little bit of time to think about their score and say…65,000 people want to know that I am grouchy this morning.

So to the hundred or so of you who may or maynot read this blog...thank you.

Boden's new blog

2009-02-19T13:38:00.000-08:00

My 4 year old has always loved to take pictures. Today we started his first photo-blog, What Boden Sees. He will be posting pictures of his neighborhood, preschool, bikes, toys, landscape, and anything else that comes across his radar. Add it to your google reader!

Who is really social networking?

2009-01-26T11:50:00.000-08:00

As I twitter around all day, gleaning articles to read, learning what celebrities are doing, finding out my friends’ latest running, cycling or drinking schedule, I begin to assume that everyone is doing it. And as I read articles about college students surpassing their professors in technology use, I think I better get with it.

This year I was so motivated by the power of social networking to influence public officials that I decided I was going to incorporate it into two of my communication courses—Communication in Politics and Team & Group Communication. So I tweet this exciting news and a friend of mine who’s just finished nursing school replies, “Really??” Her response gave me a heads up that maybe not all students were adopting as fast as I thought.

I decided to investigate. On my first day of class for both courses I took a survey of social networking use. I made a simple questionnaire asking the students to mark whether they used, did not use but had heard of, or did not use and had never heard of for the following items:

Facebook
Myspace
Twitter
Digg
Personal Blog

Out of the combined classes, 27 students answered the surveys (some students were in both classes, so only answered once). As I expected, almost every student uses Facebook and Myspace or at least has heard of it. And the split is almost even--20 on Facebook 19 on Myspace (note-some students use both). However, the stark difference came with Twitter. Out of 27 students, only 2 students marked that they use it. Thirteen students have never heard the term. Only 1 person uses Digg and 22 students have never heard of it. Additionally, only 3 students blog.

What does this mean? As a quick read, I think it means that not as many people are social networking as those who are social networking think are social networking. I also think there is still an income gap / leisure time gap when it comes to those who are adopting these technologies and those who are not. My students at Metro State College range from 18 – 60 years old. Some are fresh out of high school, some are beginning college for the first time at 40, and some are getting second degrees. It is a low-cost state school on an urban campus with no dorms, fraternities or football teams. And in my opinion, it is a good reflection of reality.

Say good-bye to local children stores and consignment shops (and treasure hunting)

2009-01-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

As many of you know I love to take my kids treasure hunting and I love to buy used and recycled clothing, gifts, bikes, books, etc. I also have been known to make a good week's income by selling my children's items on Craigslist. Unfortunately all this fun may be coming to an end.

According to the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act (also being referred to as The Lead Law), “Beginning February 10, 2009, children’s products cannot be sold if they contain more than 600 parts per million (ppm) total lead.” Children’s products include any item intended for children under the age of 12. That includes clothing, shoes, books, furniture, toys, blankets. Sellers include everyone from large manufacturers to re-sellers to small shops run out of the home.

Of course, this seems logical, we do not want people selling products with lead in it. We do not want to give our children products with lead in it.

However, the illogical part of the regulation is in how to verify that you are not selling a product with lead in it. In order to guarantee products do not contain lead, all products are required to go through a costly testing process. This process will be too expensive for many consignment stores, non-profit resellers like Goodwill and ARC, and mostly for you and me. MSNBC.com did a story on the regulations' impact on small businesses today.

After complaints from resellers, the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) added a provision that re-sellers would not be required to test products, but are not allowed to sell products with lead, meaning they are still vulnerable to penalties and fines if something they sold was found to have lead in it.

Written as is, The Lead Law will be a dead weight on our ability to buy local, buy re-used, sell our children’s used clothing and toys, and make our own children’s products to sell. The CPSC is aware that this will have a negative affect on small businesses and re-sellers, but has decided to deal with it later. Here is Julie Vallese, spokesperson for the CPSC:

"The commission is aware this legislation impacts everyone the same way -- whether you are a big manufacturer or small. And the commission may, in due time, address the issues of a small manufacturer and how the law applies to them,"

Currently their solution for at-home businesses is to keep a paper trail from manufactures of yarn, fabric, furniture, etc to certify you are not selling any products that contain lead. Have fun with that...on top of cleaning the house, changing poopy diapers, doing the laundry, driving kids to activities, and making a few blankets and burp cloths here and there, you can hunt down all the fabric manufacturers and request that they provide certification.

My suggestions would be to exclude re-sellers, not only from testing, but also from all responsibility. The original manufacturer should be held accountable for their products. And, for the CPSC to fund and operate lead testing centers, where small businesses can get there products tested for free.

Additionally, I understand that rule-making is hard, I did work for the Federal Government, and a city government. However, making a rule, and fixing it later, is just poor form.

More thoughts on the run - being good to yourself and receiving bad gifts

2009-01-13T15:18:00.000-08:00

Today’s thoughts are brought to you by my good friend who asked upon hearing that I had attended 2 yoga classes today and was now going for a 3 mile run, “Do you think you have a problem?”

Much of the run was spent contemplating, if my desire to spend any free time, running, biking or at yoga was a problem…well really I spent a lot of the time justifying why it was NOT a problem. This mental discussion then led to the idea that we can choose to do good things to our bodies or bad things to our bodies. (Another discussion my friend and I often have.) I figure I must be a person who likes to do good things to my body. Well except when I have too many cocktails, but then I usually spend the next day making up for all the bad things by overloading on good things.

Why do some people like to do things that are good for themselves and some people spend their time doing things that are bad for themselves? Well these are questions psychologists answer, or questions I try to answer while running.

To answer this question I turned to one of my morning yoga classes, where my teacher repeatedly said that our life was a gift and we should treat it that way. The analogy immediately struck a nerve with me. He continued to explain that, “We did not ask for the gift, nor could we return the gift.” He then connected it to living life with the wonder and surprise that little kids do when they open a pile of gifts.

All of this was wonderful (and honestly the teacher taught an amazing, thoughtful class), but sometimes I am a cynic when people share their philosophies with me. For example when I attended church growing up, I would take notes as to the fallacies and incongruencies in the Pastor’s sermon.

I realized, while running, that what I didn’t like about the gift scenario, is that often times so many of us don’t like a gift—even kids. They have hopes, they have expectations, and then they tear into a gift and you see their disappointment in their eyes that they didn’t get what they wanted. Now you can blame this on the parents for raising spoiled kids, or you can remember your own disappointment that you experienced when you received a less than ideal gift.

And if you understand that, then you can understand why we choose to do good or bad things to our self—we got a gift we didn’t ask for and we can’t return it. Those who like their gift, treat it well. Those who think they got screwed, treat it accordingly.

thoughts on the run

2009-01-08T22:09:00.000-08:00

I am hoping for this to be a reocurring title. Look for it in my labels.

When I run, I often have my best thoughts. It was a double-edged sword in Grad School. I would run to relieve the stress, but all these ideas for papers, thesis, etc would enter my mind. If you were a homeless person on the streets of DC, you would hear me at some times passing you yelling outloud to my brain, "shut up! just shut up and quit thinking!"

So now, instead of shutting up all the thoughts that I have while running, I thought I would just post them on my blog for people to "pull down" at will.

Thought today....

The Internet has equalized some things. Yes, you do have to have the income to afford a computer and an internet connection, and the ability to read and write, but for everyone above that the playing field is pretty equal.

People want to know what you know. And everyone knows something. So the more you focus one what you know, people will pull down your information. It really is no longer "who" you know, but, "what" you know.

Living with fear

2009-01-05T14:39:00.000-08:00

As I was running yesterday in teen-degree weather on snow in a very quiet park, I was reminded of what I think about every time I run in these conditions—Brent Brents. He was a serial rapist / murderer in my neighborhood in 2005. I don’t necessarily think about my fear of being raped, but rather my ignorance of the threat around me.

The particular day that comes to mind was some freezing day in late January / early February, when I bundled my 6 month old up in the jogger and took off for a 4 mile run in 19 degree weather. The park was cold, snowy and empty. My attitude was not scared, or threatened, but upbeat and cocky. I was thinking that I was the only person in the neighborhood brave enough to run in these conditions.

Reality of the situation sunk in when I returned to my alley garage and the older gentleman who manages the apartment building next to us said, “You be careful.” And I said, “What?” He continued with, “That man. You watch out. “ I must have looked more scared than confused, because he continued, “Don’t worry, I’m listening for you. If anything happens you scream as loud as you can, and I’ll be there.”

I went inside and logged on the Internet, only to learn about the previous two days of rape and pillaging this man with two first names had been doing in my neighborhood. (Anyone with a sixth month old will understand why I may have been a little behind in my news consumption.)

For the next few months, my behavior changed. I ran at the gym. I continually updated my local new's site on my browser. I got in my car in the garage before opening the garage door, and upon arriving back home, I closed the garage door before getting out. I thought about how lucky I was to have a garage, and an enclosed backyard. I began plotting how I would save myself if someone broke in.

And then, as he was caught, and as time went on, my panic dulled, and slowly life returned to normal. But on cold wintery days in January, when I am running the park, and not many people are in sight, I think about that day and I wonder, what is the threat level today? And am I aware of it or not?

How we live with fear has been on my mind a lot these days. Close friends lost their family pet to a mountain lion on Christmas Eve. Now their lives are more tense, more guarded and more cautious. Again, their threat-level of a mountain lion attacking their pet may have been the same on December 20th, but now they are aware in a very painful way of that threat-level.

Moreover, this past weekend as I was listening to NPR’s coverage of the fighting in Gaza, I was amazed by the story of a woman and her family who now sleep in the front of their home on living room sofas instead of the bedrooms in the back of the home. The back of the house is closer to the police station, which they are sure will be a night bombing target any day now.

As many people will tell you, you can’t live your life in fear, and that is true, but it is interesting to observe how we live our life with fear—how it feeds our motivations, our activities. It is a powerful driver, much more forceful in many ways than safety.

Yet, fear is also very fleeting. Think of the Federal Government and their brilliance of adopting a "Threat Level." How many of you reading this right now know what threat-level the U.S. is under? Red? Yellow? Purple? (is there a purple?)

I am thankful for fear's fleeting nature, yet still inthralled by it's presence when it is here.

Nine things I’ll remember about 2008

2008-12-30T20:04:00.000-08:00

Below are the 9 things I’ll remember about 2008 (10 seemed too obvious.) I am unsure if I really would remember these things, except for the fact that I am blogging them. I am sure I will re-read this post in 2018, and say, “hmmm, really?” But for my last blog of the year, these are the things I think I will remember about the year. If you think I am missing one, just assume it is the "10th."

1. I got an iPhone. Although seeming materialistic and insignificant, it is the reason I started my blog, which is the reason I started writing again on a meaningful basis, which is why I started to twitter, which I is why I feel like I am back in graduate school, reading exciting articles and connecting with interesting people.

2. I spent 10 days in France with my family and the Bergesen – Kalsnes family. Boden and Axel now scream, “Mom! The Eiffel!!!” anytime they see an oversized electrical pole. My stepson ate mussels and surfed in some of the best waves off the coast of southwestern France. Bryan and I saw the Tour de France for our second time. And we spent time and reconnected with really good friends in a beach town, while staying in Phillipe’s ultra-mod home and eating at his uber-mod restaurant while his wife’s old friend DJ’d surf-punk records.

3. I turned 35.

4. I watched a woman, a black man and a white man duke it out for presidency, and beyond all belief, the black man won. I realized my 4 year old son had no understanding as to why it was odd that a black man would be President, and never will for his entire life.

5. I competed in my first criterion bike race.

6. I didn’t get to ride Ironhorse because it snowed.

7. Axel started school. Both of my children are now in school, and the realization has hit that I need/want to work more.

8. I got my first carbon road bike.

9. I achieved hanuman for a very brief while, and then tri-season started.

My humble guide for newbies on Twitter

2008-12-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

After fumbling around Twitter for a few months, I’ve figured a few things out. (See my previous blog of my new adoption fears.) Many of my friends are beginning to explore Twitter, and as I’ve really grown to like it and find it useful, I hope they will as well. So here is my beginner advice for a newbie on Twitter (meaning you follow or are followed by less than 10 tweople):

Best place to find new people to follow:
Go to http://www.twitter.com/ on your PC, pick one or two people you follow. Click on their profile and see who they follow. Start following anyone on their lists who look interesting. Once you start following new people, look at who they are following, etc.

People who I follow that I would highly recommend following for first-tweeters:
Lance Armstrong (even if you’re not a cyclist, a consistent tweeter with a wide range of tweets)
Techcrunch (if you have any interest in technology and social media)
JayRosen (if you want a really opinionated journalism prof from NYU)

Twhirl
Next step, stop going to http://www.twitter.com/ all the time and download an application on to your desktop. I use Twhirl . When you are working on your computer, it's nice to have it open and you can get updates whenever they come in.

iphone/blackberry
I use it on my iPhone, and I know they have twitter apps for the Blackberry as well. For the iPhone, there are many twitter apps to choose from. Currently I use tweetsville, but am not sure it's worth $3.99. Before, I used twitterfone and that was free, and worked fine for a newbie status.

Syncing Twitter update with Facebook update
This is controversial. Some “ethic guides to Twitter” highly advise you that your status updates on Facebook and your tweets should be separate. As you gather more followers on Twitter, this may be true. But as you are getting started, it is a little de-motivating to sent out a tweet to 1 or 2 people. I recommend syncing them for your beginner period. Once you start realizing the difference between things you want to tweet (news stories you’re reading, work your putting out there, new restaurants / museums you’ve found) and your Facebook status updates (moods, opinions, your breakfast menu, etc.).

So if you do want to sync the two…here’s how:
go to Twitter’s FAQ http://help.twitter.com/index.php?pg=kb.page&id=26
scroll way down to:
"Does Twitter work with Facebook?
Yep! Send and receive updates from within Facebook, or use your Twitter updates as your Facebook status. "
follow the directions from there.

Twitter’s FAQ / Shortening url’s
Twitter’s FAQ also offers a lot of other helpful questions like how/why to use tiny url's. People shorten their weblinks on twitter because you only get so many characters. Twhirl allows you to shorten when you put in a link, so do the iPhone apps.

Twitter Guides
If you are wondering if you are following twitter etiquette, many tweople have put out their own guide to online social communication rules. Here are a few to read, and consider, but not necessarily take as “code.”
http://mashable.com/2008/11/17/twitter-community-donts/
http://www.startupstoryradio.com/twitter-policy-and-philosophy/

Lurking

Finally, feel free to begin as a "lurker." Find a good follow base and see what great things (and not so great things) people are tweeting, then jump in. People will begin to follow you--some real, and some advertisers. My most interesting follower was "One Breast" which was really a plastic surgery office in CA. I blocked the breast.

Enjoy….and if you can follow me @mindyglover

Accepting Freedom

2008-12-09T22:50:00.000-08:00

I found out today that Axel will start preschool on Thursday. This makes me both happy and sad. When Boden started preschool I was a wreck. I brought him to school and he said, “Bye mom!” I felt very disconnected. His cubby was not set up. I brought a pillow. I wasn’t supposed to bring a pillow. The teachers kept consoling me that Boden would be fine.

But they didn’t understand. I knew Boden would be fine. It was me I was worried about. I went home to a quiet house of a two month old, did the dishes and cried. I was mourning the loss of my son at home with me, and change. Change that meant from this day forward, he would always be going to school. It would never go back to what it once was. It would always be moving towards something different.

This Thursday, my last child, Axel, will start preschool. I hope the teachers at the boys’ yoga preschool are prepared for the fact that neither of my boys will cry, but their mom will. It is a process of letting go—letting go of the need to care for my children when they no longer need my care. I know it will continue and develop in many different forms, but today, on this day, this is what it looks like for me.

So I am working on accepting the fact that my life, is really my life.

And I know that having to drop them off by 8:00 am so that I can bike to campus and give my final by 8:30am, will be a good distraction. But I am worried about 10:30am, when my finals are given, and I am getting on my bike wondering, “Where should I go?”

Freedom. It is a blessing, a curse and an obligation…

My friend, Beth, will tell me this blog is too dark. But these are the things I think about sometimes…

My husband may worry this would make me want to have more children, however, it has the opposite effect. I don't want to feel this pain again.

Having my own little green party

2008-12-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

I am celebrating today that I did something for our earth by riding my bike to campus for every class of the semester! I even rode today through the snow and ice. I had to pull over on the bike path early this morning to let the truck with the grader go by. On the way home I witnessed 2 car accidents in the snow. It is such a great way to travel.

I would never ...

2008-12-01T13:27:00.001-08:00

One of the things I thought I would never do as a parent.

Why don't we play more boardgames?

2008-11-30T16:11:00.000-08:00

I have always loved playing board games. Growing up, it was a favorite past time over the holidays to play endless games of Monopoly, Scrabble, Pictionary and more.

When I lived in DC after college, I found that board games could transcend the family setting. I was sitting in Dupont Circle at the Starbuck’s patio on the circle when a guy named Reggie asked me to play Scrabble. Of course I said yes, and of course I was forever impressed when he pulled out his “travel Scrabble” set. We played for hours. I often met him and some of his many friends/followers there on weekends for games, coffee, and banter.

When I left DC and went traveling on my own in Europe, my one big purchase was my own “travel Scrabble.” I played scrabble in Iceland, Barcelona, Sitges, Prague, Cesky Krumlov, Paris, London, Madrid, Granada, Nejra, Valencia, and more. Many of my opponents spoke English as a second language, but they still reveled in the game, and begged me to bring it out over and over again.

There is something special about the bonding that occurs during a game--emotional connections are made, people are forced to engage with each other, your mind is required to think strategically, you feel the speed of competition and the desire to try again.

This weekend, I was lucky enough to play 3 nights of Monopoly. I loved it and secretly looked forward to it just as much as my 11 year old step-son. Now, I am counting the days until Christmas and checking out our stack of games.

Ode to Cyclocross

2008-11-20T21:22:00.000-08:00

I met my husband cycling—on the road. He talked a lot, though, about this other sport called cyclocross, which to me at the time meant riding your road bike on grass, jumping over logs, and running through sandpits. I was intrigued. So for his 40th birthday, I bought him a cyclocross bike. He started racing again that next season. And now I wouldn’t know what to do with my Fall weekends if I weren’t bundling up the kids and driving out to some field in the middle of nowhere to watch men and women rip up a course and exhaust themselves to no end.

I am learning new encouraging phrases like, Hub! Hub! Hub!. I am having strong urges to take the kids and hubby to the Belgian Café after every race. I am setting up teeter-totter ramps for my kids to practice on in the alley. I am training the 4 year old how to hop off his bike at every intersection—run his bike across the street—and then jump back on the next side walk. I am having secret dreams that my kids will be superb cyclocross racers and the whole family will get to move to Belgium and live in dreary, sloppy, cold weather while dad glues on tires for the kids and we work the pits spraying off their muddy bikes, switching out wheel sets...

I have even begun reading cyclrocross magazine. I get through the issue before my husband does and sometimes I read tips to him over the phone on the latest gluing techniques for tubular tires. I am finding it is extremely good reading. Every issue I pick up I think I will find nothing interesting in there…and every issue I am intrigued by some tough chick's training schedule for the Belgium racing circuit. Just the fact that American women are getting paid to ride their bikes in Belgian mud, snow and rain in front of thousands of fans every race gets my sisterhood blood pumping.

I know, it’s true. I’ve gotten a bad case of cyclocross fever. But it is fun, and truly, I can’t imagine what fall would be like if the hubby weren’t rolling tires across the wood floors, cursing the glue to stick and I wasn’t packing lunches and cowbells every weekend to sustain us through the noon-time races.

My Favorite Cyclocross Blogs:
http://www.blueskyvelo.blogspot.com/
http://billteasdale.blogspot.com/

http://www.mudandcowbells.blogspot.com/

Things people do when the economy heads south

2008-11-13T18:33:00.000-08:00

Some of us have wondered when the enormity of all the lending freezes, mortgage problems, and stock market nose dives were going to really be reflected in American life. And what would it look like? Here are a few of my observations as to how people are adjusting to the "new" economy:

People begin drinking large glasses of white wine at their 10:30am hair appointments.
While fibbing on her wireless headset to her boss and professor about having a very important meeting, a stylist painted the foils on her hair. She then moved to the sofa to let the color set and pulled out a lunch cooler big enough to carry a bottle of wine. Then she uncorked the wine, poured it into her own wine glass, and began drinking while she stressed out over paper work. All this before 11am. I guess the salon didn’t have a cork-fee?

People sprain their wrists falling from the roof trying to do their own leaf removal.
Still at the salon, I hear another woman next to me explain to her stylist the reason for the cast on her wrist. She shook her head as she explained about crawling around the roof, pulling leaves out of gutters. She looked about 50 years old as I heard her say, “We’ve always hired someone to do this in the past, but because of the economy, we are trying to save some money.” I was hoping she had health insurance.

Instead of shopping people begin “exchanging fashion.”
This is one of the most positive effects of the new economy even if it is taking place in Brussels. It exemplifies the global economic crisis as well. My good friend Bente inspired me with her blog earlier this year, pledging not to buy any new clothes for a year. She recently updated that she was keeping up her pledge and about to embark on her first fashion exchange party where people bring the clothes they are tired of wearing and swap with other fashionable friends. Apparently these are so common they have their own wikihow page. Anyone interested in Denver?

People share their beer with you rather than buying you a full one.
Okay, so this is a really an old story that happened about 10 years ago in Iceland, but given the fact they are experiencing the worst economic turmoil, I thought it was worth mentioning, as it probably still true today. Ten years ago when I was young and visiting Iceland on a back-packer’s salary, I was at a bar in Reykjavík with three new-found friends. We were all sharing a beer as it was equivalent to about 15$. A handsome sailor in a yellow jacket was dancing with me later that night and leaned in to offer, “Sip my beer?” I interpreted this to be his American version of offering to buy me one. American men, please try this at your local pub and let me know how it goes.

Less money is spent on practical things and more money is spent on escaping…alcohol, sex, therapy...
Although people are losing their job and have less and less money for food, clothing and shelter, alcohol is still in the budget and will probably remain. If you’re down, you can always find money to make you feel up. The New York Post printed a story about a guy who’s power lunch included a double vodka with a red bull. He claimed he needed to sound more social than depressed when he made his afternoon cold calls. Other new line items in the budget, that may or may not appear on paper—prostitutes, topless bars, escort services, and of course a therapist to deal with it all.

And think, this is only the beginning...more to come.

Easy Street

2008-11-06T20:55:00.000-08:00

I do not have a picture. I could have stopped to take one with my iPhone, but I thought it might be a little tacky. So I will just share with you my view today.

I was biking home from class on 12th Ave. when I saw a woman in the street in her wheel chair. I saw her right leg was amputated, not because her pant leg was empty on one side, but because her bare amputated leg was out for my viewing. It was pink and fleshy in the cold fall weather.

I began to wonder why I could see this woman’s leg, when I normally was deprived of this full, honest sight. Then I spied her pants around her left ankle, attached to a fully functioning leg. It dawned on me that her pants were down.

I focused a little closer to see a stream of urine rolling off the middle of her wheel chair and splashing on the asphalt. Ahhh. I realized. She was going to the bathroom (well not literally, there was no bathroom.) This was extremely thought provoking. I wondered how long she looked for public restrooms that were handicapped accessible in her lifetime, before she just decided, “F*ck it, I’ll just pee in the street.”

I remembered what a high-level skill this was when traveling in foreign countries—knowing where a public bathroom was that I could use without having to buy something. Imagine the added complication of finding one to fit my wheelchair and then pulling my body out of the wheel chair to pee and then wrangle myself back in. I think, after some time of trying to be a decent public citizen, I too would have just given in to pissing in public.

Oddly enough, as I was biking away, my mind shifted away to community organizing and I went on to wonder if she voted.

Getting out the vote

2008-11-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

A former Communication in Politics student getting out the vote on
campus.

obsessive-cumpulsive dove-tailing

2008-11-02T22:12:00.001-08:00

I am a habitual multitasker. In fact, I cannot really complete one project without starting another. I notice it most in my house cleaning. I will be folding the laundry and I will think about the dishes, I will be doing the dishes and I will think about toys on the floor, I will be picking up the toys on the floor and I will remember the leaf raking. At any point in time you could walk into my house and find the dryer open with a ½ pile of folded clothes; the dishwasher open with one rack clean and one rack dirty; the toys halfway scattered (if there is ever any true progress on this task); and a rake and broom laying in the backyard.

Glancing at my computer is even worse. I have three word processing windows open and seven websites all with half projects, tweets, orders in the works.

I live my life like this in full awareness. When I am distracted in one project and move on to another I actually say to myself, "Well…here I go again." Sometimes I try to self-discipline, “No you must finish this before you move on…don’t do it…stop…no one cares who’s getting 26th place in the NYC marathon, or that something is sitting on the stairs and should really go up.”

Other times I believe my multitasking approach is actually more successful than the more traditional one-thing-at-one-time approach. It’s like assembly line work. I go around the house / my computer and nail out all the tedious parts first, then I rotate through the more thoughtful parts, and finally wrap up with a sweeping finish.

It all stems from the fact that I am amazing at dove-tailing. Mrs. Cross taught me this word in 8th grade home economics. For those not in her class, dove-tailing is when you are cooking and you time everything to be ready at the same time. There are no guidelines to how you get to the end—you just must get to the end of everything at the same time.

I take this philosophy far outside the kitchen.

Why we shouldn’t give the government more power in times when we are scared

2008-11-01T14:31:00.000-07:00

Many Americans were willing to give up certain privacy freedoms after the attacks on September 11, 2001, in exchange for more government protection. At the time, when we are scared for our safety, scared for our security, the new authority bestowed on the government seems inconsequential. It often is hard to fathom how these new powers could be mis-used. And people who warn against them sound like anarchist, fear-mongering radicals.

Well, Iceland, is now serving as an excellent example of how giving a government too many powers can be a bad thing. In 2001, Britain passed legislation to protect the country from doing business with terrorist countries—seems simple enough, how could a government abuse that power?

Three weeks ago, as Iceland is in miserable economic crisis, Britain decides to invoke this anti-terrorism law to protect its own banks from any fallout effect of Iceland’s bankruptcy. In turn, labeling Iceland a terrorist country and intensfiying its financial crisis.

Voila! Unintended consequences of laws passed in time of fear.

To get a more entertaining feel for where the world may be heading, you really should be watching PBS’s Masterpiece Theater, The Last Enemy. It is fantastic in its futuristic exploration of a fictional TIA (Total Information Awareness) system. My husband has been downloading them for free on his iPhone and watching them on all of his long flights. (Not really important, but just trying to see how many articles in which I can refer to the iPhone.)

Today, we are in a critical looking back-looking ahead time period. It always seems after the fact people refer to history to explain poor decisions and why people didn’t consider that information when making decisions. As we take on a new president, a failing economy, and a never-ending war, we are at the choice point. And inundated with information, we need to consider it now before moving ahead.

My Tirade against Whole Foods

2008-10-29T21:25:00.001-07:00

The worst thing that happened to my neighborhood this year was that the Wild Oats was turned into a Whole Foods. I waivered with thinking it was the Chipotle turning into a Gourmet Pizza Place, but after tonight’s shopping trip, I have confirmed it is the former.

I was skeptical of all when reading that Whole Foods was purchasing Wilds Oats last year. But I had some hope that my local store was so local, it would not succumb to the walmart-esque gourmet grocery store. I also reassured myself, that people probably felt the same way when Wild Oats bought Alfalfa’s—and that didn’t turn out so bad.

Well it’s bad. Badder than bad. First of all my store is inundated with the 365 brand, which infuriates me. The 365 Brand is known for relabeling itself when it is the exact same as other name brand products. It preys on people's desires to be “green,” “local,” and “healthy.” I went to buy milk the other day and picked up a 365 brand only to notice it was not organic. What is a whole foods store doing with a generic brand that is not even organic?

Then tonight I went to buy orange juice. I had 2 brand choices—TWO. I could buy 365 organic/non-organic or Tropicana. Then, my cynical side figured it was really no choice at all. The 365 brand probably is Tropicana, and they have made a deal. In order to be able to buy the Tropica Brand in bulk and re-label it, Whole Foods has to also sell Tropicana in the store.

I have more choices at my local King Soopers. Not only do I have more organic and non-organic brand choices at my local King Soopers (known to locals as Queen Soopers), but I have more local choices as well. I went into Whole Foods the other day (my kids and I still call it Wild Oats) and was going to buy some cucumbers. All of my friends were giving us great cucumbers from their gardens, so I figured they were in season and I could buy some locally. Nope. Every single cucumber in Whole Foods was from Mexico.

If you understand what “whole foods” means – foods that are not processed, in reality there are more “whole foods” options at our regular grocery stores than at a Whole Foods store.

But the ultimate coup d'état occurred during check out. I was talking to my girlfriend on my iPhone bitching about how Whole Foods was duping us (yes that sentence was meant to be humorous) when something catches my eye in the checkout aisle. PEOPLE Magazine. My jaw dropped. Yes, I appreciate People Magazine, Us Magazine ,OK Magazine at King Soopers, but there was something sacred about going to my local natural, health foods store and avoiding all the scum of our down-sliding culture. And now it is like pop-culture has come down and defecated on my only local innocent treasure.

It was truly the last straw. The boycott is on, and despite the fact that it is getting colder and darker everyday, I am making the extra 6 block walk for a grocery store that at least, calls it like it is.

Half of Seventy

2008-10-29T07:37:00.000-07:00

Today is the official day. I am half of seventy and in honor of growing older...I changed my picture on facebook. (See previous blog High Profile.)

New Yorkers and the Economy

2008-10-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

I am in the land of money-where money is made, traded, hoarded, earned, lost, and money is what everyone is talking about.

Yesterday we talked to Michael & Jennifer who own a small business in the east village. We've known them for five years now. The first time we met them, they had just set up shop and were moving out on their own after having been in the corporate world for so long. And every year after it seemed like they were growing growing growing. They maybe had 5 people working for them last time we we in.

But yesterday we ran into Michael on the street and he was just shaking his head. A born and raised New Yorker, he said, "New York isn't what it used to be." We're making plans, he continued, maybe get back into wholesale, make our homebase in Denver.

Then today, reading all the New York sections of the paper, you can hear it in their tone. New Yorkers are scared. The real scared not just the fleeting scared.

I am wondering how quickly this eastcoast trend will move west?

Mommy who?

2008-10-24T14:37:00.001-07:00

With my incredible view from my extremely large balcony--the mommy skin is no where to be found. Now if we can just make some friends with the fashion show folks downstairs we have the perfect party pad.

Shedding my mommy skin

2008-10-24T14:31:00.000-07:00

Shedding my mommy skin
It is always harder than I think. To shed my mommy skin. That skin that is pulled on, spilled on, kissed on, sat on, cried on. As rough as it is, you would think it would just slough right off. But it
takes awhile.
I have to make a concious effort to start thinking like an adult again. I have to stop smiling and talking to all other kids as if they are mine.I have to remember to kiss my husband like we are on a date, a really good date, rather than just giving him a hello- goodbye peck as he walks in and out of the house.
Mostly I have to--get go-- think about myself. I can actually have a thought, an idea, without it getting interupted either by a child's voice or my own panic like, shit! I forgot to pack a lunch.
I know, many of you are thinking--wow, Mindy really needed this break.
You are right. I did.

Mindy
Sent from my mobile device
www.mindyglover.blogspot.com

Life with no kids

2008-10-24T08:48:00.000-07:00

Bryan and I are headed for NYC. It usually takes me half a day to
stop thinking about the kids. Sometimes a bloody mary helps. Stay
tuned. Take off in 30min.

Running Firsts

2008-10-20T13:42:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I ran my first marathon. Well not actually, I ran a segment of a marathon RELAY. I was team captain for Moms on the Run. My team consisted of four moms (of course). We all happen to have two and four year olds; and we all have varying interests in running.

I ran the last 7 miles of the Denver Marathon. If you ever need to boost your self esteem as a runner, choose this leg. Everyone is walking, hurting, puking or limping. I was blowing by guys with some good looking legs on them. Of course, the pride you gain is a little shallow.

This was also my first time running a race with a music device in tow (more accurately--in ear). I had mixed reactions. It may have made me run faster. I got thru my 7 miles in a proud 1:01:44. But I missed some of the stupid things that I normally say to runners in a race and I am sure they missed it too.

As I approached the finish line, I saw my husband, my kids, and my teammates. My teammates sprinted out and we all ran across the finish line--holding hands in the air. It was an awesome moment. Until I realized I was holding my timing chip in my hand and had a deep panic that it may not have registered on the timing mat. I checked with the volunteer who took my chip from me. "As long as it was with you as you crossed the mat, your good."

Good. hmm. I was good, until we all checked the stats on the Denver Marathon website and saw that Moms on the Run were DNF'd--another first for me. Luckily my teammates were understanding (and probably happy that at least their times were recorded.)

It is the ultimate test in hubris. I once almost forgot to put on a timing chip before a duathlon. I sprinted back to the transition site and made it back to the start in time. I then looked at my girlfriend and said, "What would be the point of doing this if we weren't being timed?" (Of course this was running on snow pack and biking on ice in 30 degree weather.)

I do think I learned a "point." The point was the team--and not the individual segments. The team did really well. We finished the marathon in 4:31:30. This was 9 minutes faster than our estimated pace. And probably faster than any one of us could have done it alone.

Insecurities

2008-10-15T21:36:00.000-07:00

35 is half of 70. (OK! I know you shouldn’t start sentences with numbers.) Thirty-five is half of seventy. In some ways I’ve accomplished things a 35-year old should accomplish—marriage (2), children (2), step children (1), higher degree (1) somewhat challenging sporting event (many), travel (lots).

In other ways, I am feeling not so accomplished—books published (0), companies run (0), lives saved (0), new inventions (0), death defying feats (0), wars stopped (0).

You may think my logic is missing some normal balance, but it comes from a little theory in communication known as self-discrepancy theory. The theory goes something like this: the larger the distance between who we think we ought to be and who we think we want to be--the lower our self-esteem.

I teach this theory to my students every semester. I recently thought that this theory was, “so college!” and that I hadn’t had those feelings for a really long time.

Lately, upon the eve of my 35th birthday (10/29), I realize those thoughts are creeping back. I thought I was happy living my ideal self, and I hadn’t even given any regard to my “ought self” for some time.

However, (my honor’s professor told me never to start a sentence with, “However,”) the “ought self” has been making an annoying presence. And part of me can’t help but blame it on an impending birthday, an impending election, and, an impending question…will I really give in to Botox?

Which brings me back to my long-time theory that, "Life is Long." That is my own quotation. You will never be settled--thankfully. You will never stop falling in love--unfortunately for some. You will never feel like, "Now I have it all," as understood from the men ahead of me at the coffee shop, who were amazed that a guy who made $1billion dollars a year was still unhappy.

It didn't surprise me. I knew that guy was still sitting at home thinking, "I was going to be the rebel who lived off the earth and ate berries for existence, and here I am with Whole Foods delivering my meals every week...this sucks!"

But at the time, I just kept my feelings to myself; ordered my skinny cap; and went to sit at my table and ponder...who should I be at 35?

A heedy CDS hedge

2008-10-09T21:26:00.000-07:00

Ira Glass put together a very informative This American Life episode 365 in attempts to explain the financial crisis. In all seriousness, I appreciated his attempts to show the disconnect between the impending monster we hear about while everyday life continues in the background. I also enjoyed the interview on DEBT and how people, businesses, countries, and the world have taken on a preposterous amount of debt, sure to impress our children of the future.

I recommended this show to my Interpersonal Communication students and asked them to reflect on the importance of Perception in the free market. I sent the link to my friends and family to solicit their attention to this higher understanding of our economy.

Therefore, I thought it only appropriate to share the results of my sharing. Because, truly the way we learn the best is by re-telling what we’ve learned in a way that we too can understand it. Below is the transcript of an email exchange from a dear friend, who actually took an hour out of his day to listen to my scholarly suggestion:

[Rob to Mindy]
That was extremely informative, thanks for sending the link. By the way, I just bought a CDS on Niko's [Rob’s son] behavior today. Want one? They are pricey, but I need a hedge.

[Mindy to Rob]
Let me see if I can get Lisa [Rob’s wife] to back me up. Then either way he goes, I'm covered and you're screwed.

[Rob to Mindy]
Let me know how it goes with Lisa so I can make sure she gives Bryan [Mindy’s husband] a friendly sales call ; )

[Mindy to Rob]
That information is confidential and according to the US Government, I don't have to disclose anything!!!!!

[Rob to Mindy]
Damn, good point... but I'm not too worried because I know the tax payers will be forced to bail me out if Niko minds me today.

Moral of the story:
Don’t be afraid to share a little information. You never know what you’ll get back.

Bikes of Denver

2008-10-02T11:41:00.000-07:00

I am beginning to collect photographs of my favorite bikes I spot
around Denver. I was hoping to use the double-decker, railroad spikes
one for the debut, but I think he's been skipping class lately, as I
haven't seen it on campus this week. Oh, well, something for which to
keep checking back.

Treasure Hunting

2008-09-28T17:38:00.000-07:00

I spent twelve cents on this boat at our local Goodwill today. It provided me with 2 1/2 hours of entertainment as my boys watched it get wooshed around in a fountain.

I took them "treasure" hunting in hopes of imposing my joys of second-hand shopping on them at an early age. "Almost all the toys here are broken," I said, "but if you find one that's not, now that is a treasure." The hunt was on, and despite the fact that this kayak probably came with a person and a paddle at sometime, it was not broken. My boys were ecstatic.

In their ecstasy, they run out on the sidewalk with their new boat, only to bump into a homeless person, who they greet by saying, “Hello. Look at our new boat!” Their smiles were big. The smile it produced on him, was even bigger.

We turn to walk down the street, when the homeless man with the grocery cart stops us and says, “Here, this is for the boys.”

He proceeds to give each of the kids a large, white, stuffed Christmas teddybear. They are brand new, both with tags. My two year old tries to hand it back. He thinks either he gets the boat or the teddy. My three year old says, “Thanks!”

I tell the man, “Really we would be fine with one, would you like to keep the other?”

He says, “No, no, I still have one. I gave you Snowball and Ice. Fluffy is all I need.”

I look up and sure enough under mounds of dirty sleeping bags is another white Christmas bear. We thank him and walk away.

My three-year old says, “Mommy, do you think that man gave me the bear because I threw salt over my shoulder for good luck today at lunch?”

I said, “Perhaps.” And we headed to the fountain, bears in tow, to launch our treasure.

Refusing To Be Old

2008-09-26T15:14:00.000-07:00

I read an article last year where they interviewed one of my girlfriends from graduate school. She was talking about the changes in online social networks and made the comment, “The younger generation thinks email is for old people.” (Okay, not exact quote, but something like that.)

This statement struck me as odd. Then what are they doing? As I read the article, the only answers I got were from people in their twenties saying young people were doing things even they can’t understand.

I was at a loss. I had always remained aware of the myriad of technologies out there, but I didn’t think people were actually using them to any meaningful extent. It left me perplexed, and slightly feeling left out of some secret high school party.

The first thing that came to mind was texting. It is much more common for young people to text, but I was using texting on a daily basis as well, and saw it very similar to emailing, and not that different. Of course, there are some texting short hands out there that I still don’t fully understand. For example, “@TEOTD,” and “1174,” but you can easily look all those up at http://www.netlingo.com/emailsh.cfm.

The second thing I thought of were online social networks, places like MySpace and Facebook. I knew of them, I knew of some of their functionalities, but I didn’t use them. In fact I had recently confessed to my college students that social networking online was what officially defined me as “old.”

Ahha, so maybe the article was right.

I visited Facebook, where I had set up an account a few years ago upon reading a New Yorker article about the site. As I logged on, I was faced with the confusion all first-time users encounter.

What is a wall? When would I post on a Wall and when would I send a message? Wait! What is this Superwall thing? Why would I poke you? Why is it so uneventful when I get poked? Isn’t this just moving email to a different website? Why are people sending me beers? Am I really saving a rainforest by watering a friend’s garden? Why do people take all of these online quizzes?

(Of course this was “Old Facebook.” I have another set of questions still to be answered regarding the “New Facebook.”)

I dove in.

I threatened my friends to log-on because if they didn’t, they’d be old. I took quizzes, I sent beers, I raked gardens, I poked people, I updated my status every hour or so, I commented on other’s status. Slowly, VERY slowly, I began to understand the difference. People were not emailing me direct messages with information, but rather people were putting information about themselves “out there.” And I was gleaning it whenever I wanted to, and ignoring it too.

Through social networking, I saw pictures of my sister’s new house; I learned an old friend went back to work; I learned another friend was pregnant; I viewed witty comments from an old professor; I was introduced to new media, including a hit dance song in India. All of this I learned from my online social network. None of this would I have learned through email, texting, snailmail or my iPhone (well unless I was using my Facebook application.)

I understood. I was beginning to see the meaning of the article and why the youth of today view email as formal and old-fashioned.

But I also know I am only on the surface of this interpersonal communication revolution. So now I’ve begun to Twitter (the status updates site, not the verb).

Through Facebook, I had seen friends “twittering” online, and again, was clueless. I had heard about it theoretically in the news, but again, I still didn’t see its functionality.

So here I am, jumping into another new technology, with the same confusion, fear, and anxiety that met me when I first began on Facebook. But, if I don’t do it, I am old.

And, apparently, my fear of being old is still greater than my fear of learning a new trick.

Death of a Guinea Pig

2008-09-22T22:20:00.000-07:00

I was in our basement today doing puzzles with the boys. During this time I was randomly doing other projects, like the laundry, the desk filing, and feeding the guinea pigs. While at the guinea pigs’ cage, I looked in on Eddie and Sonic only to see the normally active duo in distress. Eddie, a black guinea pig with a white stripe, was laying down. Sonic, a brown plump guinea pig, was running around Eddie squeaking.

I immediately felt a sinking feeling. In the 2 ½ years we’ve had the guinea pigs, I don’t remember ever seeing one lay down. I look again, this time at the eyes—definitely dead.

I quickly contemplate what to tell my two little boys desperately searching for the letter “C” in the alphabet train. My first thought is that I should wait until their nap, call Dad to discuss the situation, and then clean up the dead guinea pig. We could break the news to the kids that night, sit them down, see if they had any questions.

Then I thought, “That’s weird.” And I immediately called to the oldest, “Boden, come here! I think Eddie died!”

All-in-all, I truly believe this was the more “normal” decision of the two.

Boden came running and upon seeing Eddie laying down said, “No, mom, I think he’s just sleeping.” And then he looked again, and he too must have seen the eyes. Boden looks up and says, “Nope, mom. He’s dead.”

Boden, age 3, takes over, “We need to get a box, mom. When dad gets home he can bury him in the backyard.” Now, before we look into Boden’s emotional intelligence status, it is helpful to know this is not our first guinea pig death in the family.

Although Boden cannot likely remember the first, he has heard the story of Sparky many times. Dad thought Sparky needed some fresh air and proceeded to leave Sparky’s cage on the back steps all day in the 100 degree weather. Needless to say, we returned home to find Sparky dead. This time, Boden’s older half-brother (age 7) was the one in distress. And, Boden, not yet 1, was seen as annoying for smiling at such a serious time.

But the true story of Eddie’s death today, is not that of my children. More importantly it is that of my own. I can’t stop wondering, “Did I kill him?” “Was it the new bedding I bought?” “Was his cage—his food--his water unclean in some way to contaminate him?” “Why didn’t I notice something was wrong?” “Had he stopped eating? Squeaking?” “Why didn’t I see it coming?”

It made me question my larger responsibility for taking care of my own children. If I can’t keep a guinea pig alive, what am I doing raising 2 human beings?

Boden finally went up for his nap and asked me for a cup of water, as I brought it to him, I thought, “What if there is something in this water, that will hurt him, like I may have hurt Eddie.” Strange, morose, thoughts, I know. Yet, I’ve never questioned my ability to take care of my kids. I’ve always approached child-rearing with an uber-confidence of “they’ll be fine.” And now, Eddie’s got me on my toes—or at least thinking—about my nurturing abilities.

Meanwhile, Sonic sits downstairs alone, and my heart melts. I am the one pleading my husband, can’t we please get just one more guinea. My three year old warmly reassures me that everything will be okay, “Maybe his body just didn’t like his age mom, so Eddie wanted to go get in another body.”

Whatever kind of logic that is, I’m going with it.

We'll miss you Eddie.

The Economy: A Bedtime Story

2008-09-18T11:03:00.000-07:00

In my own feeble attempts to understand the economy, I’ve created a little bedtime story.

Here’s how the story goes:

Once upon a time, there were a generation of parents who hated being told what to do by their own parents. When they were young, they always believed their parents were stupid and that they made much better decisions for themselves. So when they grew up to be parents of their own, they decided they were going to raise their children differently. Their children wouldn’t need rules—well at least very few rules. The kids would instinctively know what was best for themselves. The kids could decide their own bedtimes, their own menus, their own choice of clothing, their own choice of vacations. The parents would even send their kids to schools where the children could choose their own course of education. So far their plan was working perfectly, and the parents' life was very easy with no rules to enforce—brilliant.

Then the kids grew up to be teenagers, and, boy, did they get out of control. At first it was good clean fun, and even the parents looked at each other with a smile and a nod thinking, “Aw, teenagers.” Then the teenagers started getting into trouble--big trouble. They were breaking the law, staying up all night, cutting classes, using drugs, lying. At first the parents turned their heads and scolded the teenagers with statements like, “We gave you everything you wanted! And now look what you’ve done. You’re on your own, buddy.”

But come on, they are teenagers, and the parents are parents. They couldn’t really let their kids stay in jail, become drug addicts, or live on the streets. So they bailed them out. And now the kids are living at home, quite dependent on their parents. And their parents are pulling their hair out, screaming, “What kind of children did we raise?”

The End.

The Malibu Returns

2008-09-17T07:18:00.001-07:00

On the way to pick up my son from preschool yesterday, I saw this...and the childhood memories began to flow. This is the EXACT bike my sister road throughout our teenage years!

I remember our disappointment when all the cool kids were riding ten-speeds and we had to get single speeds because, "Gears caused for a lot of maintenance problems."

I got some maroon bike with skinny tires and narrow handle bars, and Laney got THIS! She really handled it well...not the bike, but all the comments about the width of the seat and the white-wall tires.

Had we only known she was so ahead of her time. This bike is a coveted gem today. And to believe it made it's way from Walnut St., SD all the way to an apartment building on Cap. Hill, Denver!

2008-09-17T07:04:00.001-07:00

Sent from my iPhone

High Profile

2008-09-15T14:02:00.001-07:00

I am terrified to change my profile picture on Facebook. It seems so destabilizing, like I am physically changing as my profile picture changes. It feels somewhat schizophrenic as well—some days I show up as mom-mindy, and other days I show up as biker-mindy. Then, and this is the worst scenario—I get stuck in this contest of the eternal quest for the picture that best represents how I THINK I look and how I want others to THINK I look for the rest of time. The profile picture is so permanent—like a tattoo—something else I am terrified to do for many of the same reasons.

I do not think this of others’ profile pictures. In fact, I encourage them to change their profiles by making comments like, “Ooh, that would make a great profile picture!” I truly am excited when they change their photos. I will go through the whole line-up of people who are now choosing to represent themselves in some other form and look at them in awe.

I find it interesting when people become inanimate objects—like a pregnancy test—or their dogs, or their kids. Of course, some days, we are more than just ourselves. Some days I feel like I am really just a double shot of espresso with a lot of crème. Although these profile picture selections make it very difficult when old high school people request to be my friend. I will not recognize their name because they got married and for some reason changed their name (some other blog) and I don’t recognize their kids or their dogs, and so I am at a total loss as to whether or not to be friends with them.

Sometimes I will waste hours (well really minutes) looking through photos thinking…ahaa!!! This should be my new profile picture. Because, in all truth, I am not really that satisfied with my current picture, but I am terrified to start the key of the picture-changing-mobile for fear of where it would take me. In fact I did change it once. I put up one picture, where I looked tan and my hair was nice and curly, but when I later logged on I thought, “Who is that slut on the cover of my Facebook?” I immediately took it down and put a picture of my bike frame up as my profile picture. But this was not me. I did not want old friends looking for me, only to find a carbon frame staring at them (beautiful as it is). So I went back to the original picture. This picture is an interesting choice in itself, in that it was taken on the front steps of my sister’s house when I had two of my children and three of her kids hanging all around me. I conveniently cropped them all out.

I figured I will have to change it someday, as that picture will no longer accurately represent me…like when I am 60.

Texting vs. Emailing

2008-09-14T14:01:00.000-07:00

I have been involved in many conversations lately weighing the benefits of texting vs. emailing when it comes to confidential business in the work place. Many people are saying even their HR department is advising them to, “send a text if it is anything controversial.”

Texts, which are stored on a phone, are not as easily retrieved as Email messages which can be stored with the service provider or the network administrator of your organization.

I was even more intrigued when another friend informed me of the high-level international negotiations that occur over texting, rather than email.

Unrelated to private business dealings or international negotiations, I recently drew my own social distinctions between the use of texting and emailing. It was late on a Saturday night, and my husband and I were getting ready for bed when I received a text. I was in the other room, so he picked up the phone and said, “Who is #_____?” I said I did not know. Then he read aloud, “I miss you, how are you?”

We reverse looked up the phone number and realized it was an old boyfriend of mine.

Now, I normally don’t ignore old boyfriends’ requests to get back in touch if they are over email. Many of them are still friends who I may run into, or email once a year. But, there is something more formal about emails, something more track-able, something more public. On the other hand, a text seems more intimate, more secretive.

Needless to say after discussing it over with the household HR department, we concurred, all catching up with old boyfriends should be done over email, and not texting.

Perhaps my social policies are not that far off from the corporate world’s.

The coolest thing I did with my iPhone today...

2008-09-14T13:19:00.000-07:00

I was at the Children's Museum (a very miserable place for me to be) talking to my girlfriend on the phone while my two young sons pretended they were construction workers. It is an unusually dreary Sunday in Denver, and I was entertaining the idea of renting a movie for the boys after nap time. My friend suggested I take them to the new 3-D kids movie that is out and has "Moon" in the title.

As soon as we hung up, I downloaded the "Movies" application; I allowed "Movies" to use my GPS location to tell me about shows in my area; I then scrolled though the list and found "Fly Me to the Moon;" It showed all the theaters and start times in my 5 miles radius; I selected "Trailer;" and then I turned my phone sideways and watched a wide-screened trailer for the movie.

This was so much more productive than building pretend houses with my kids! Thanks to my iPhone, I may enjoy the Children's Museum more often.

Married to a CrackBerry Addict in DENIAL

2008-09-09T23:16:00.000-07:00

I saw the bill from the Genius BAR. My husband has been hanging out there a lot lately. And not because he is a genius. But because, i-phones have no where near the enterprise capability as Blackberry’s.

My husband and I both received our i-phones on the same day with big hopes…his probably bigger than mine. I, basically, want my phone to call. I still keep a paper calendar. On the contrary, he wakes up at 7:00am the next morning, ready to make his first i-phone conference call, and starts swearing.

“What! I can’t call out of my calendar??? No Way!! This sucks.”

I laugh and turn away, as he shamefully jots a conference call number down on paper and then re-dials it. By the end of the day, his battery won’t hold a charge and he has no use of a phone.
For me, the i-phone works great. I make calls. I take cute pictures of my kids. I glamorously show them to my friends. I have used the 3G. I have used the Mapping Locator. I have NOT used the calendar.

He gets a new phone. We figure the first one was screwed up by us charging it on the i-pod home speaker system…who knew?

Now it is Monday night and he is going to the Foo Fighter’s concert and I am sooo looking forward to getting my school work done and catching up with a girlfriend, when I hear him say on MY i-phone, “Yeah, call me on my wife’s number.” WHAT???????

His i-phone is in eternal “spin.” And he needs to locate his friends at the concert. WAY more important than my physical safety, home alone on capital hill with 2 small boys, hoping SKYPE can call 911.

Anyway, this is what ends him up at the GENIUS BAR…funny huh? Yeah. I think so too. Anyway he is on his 3rd phone, and I am crying, like a true crack-berry myself…”JUST GO BACK to the BLACKBERRY.”

What was I thinking?

2008-09-06T22:55:00.000-07:00

Triathlon is the biggest cross-dressing sport of them all. What was I thinking to say, “almost impossible to cross-dress for [triathlons].” We swim in our bike shorts we bike in our swimsuits we run in our bike jerseys. Yes, there are specific triathlon “suits” and name brands like “Zoot,” which are made specific for triathlons, but many people piece it together to find the most comfortable (or affordable) fit.

My favorite that I saw today was a 20 year old girl ( I know this because our ages are body-marked on our right calves), who I passed on the bike, but who, unfortunately passed me on the run, was wearing the perfect cross-dressing outfit. She had two yoga tanks layered over each other--very chic. She wore bike shorts, disguised by loose-fit retro melon colored terry-cloth running shorts on top. And to finish the look, Dolce & Gabana oversized beige sunglasses—truly beautiful.

Cross-dressing

2008-09-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

I was at the start line of the OC Half Marathon in 2007 listening to Leann Rimes sing the National Anthem, when I looked around, and wondered why so many people were about to embark on a 13.2 mile run wearing their yoga pants? What happened to everyone just wearing running shorts and a t-shirt, or maybe just a sports bra? Sure enough, there were yoga pants, yoga capris (short pants), and even cute yoga halter tops.

As I am about to take off for the start, I begin to wonder about this athletic phenomenon in cross-dressing. It is good to have something to think about when you are about to spend two hours on pavement. I wondered if it happens in other sports, or only running? I wondered if there were social rules to this cross-dressing thing? Can you wear yoga to run, but not run to yoga?

Around mile three it strikes me, some of it must be based on comfort. It could be comfortable to run in yoga pants. Personally, I find all my yoga pants slide down to my knees when I start bouncing about in them. And, I think the gentleman, who show up to my yoga classes in their running or cycling attire, find it uncomfortable as well --- their legs slipping off their sweaty arms in crow, because their shorts are too short. The padding aimed to keep you in future child production despite riding a bike, looks to pull and tweak on the mat.

Of course, on mile 7, when it’s starting to hurt a little, I start to think, “Who is making the money off this multi-sport use of clothing, anyway?” Or worse yet, I consider, “Is someone losing money, when clothes are not “sport-specific?” It can probably all be blamed (and blessed) on the yoga industry, which burgeoned, with unfortunately little equipment needed…but clothing. In fact many companies disguise their yoga clothes under the catalog title “Athletic Wear.” This may be where everyday people get the morass to where an “Om” tank with their Sidis.

By mile 12—feeling the homestretch—I am ready to play devil’s advocate and ponder, “For what sports would it be hard to cross-dress?” Tennis? I think the yoga tops and running tanks are making a showing there as well. Swimming? Difficult, yes, very difficult, which leads me to triathlons. Almost impossible to cross-dress for this event, as you start off swimming, and pretty much finish your bike and run in the same clothing. We will see. I have a triathlon bright and early tomorrow morning. It may be chilly. I will be on the lookout for anyone pulling on their Lululemon’s in transition before the run!

First Blog

2008-09-04T12:52:00.000-07:00

Everyone has to have a first blog, right? Well this is mine. We've had so many monumental, stressful speeches and writings in the last week...who could top writing the first black presidential candidate's acceptance speech, or the "hello, I'm sarah palin"--speech. Considering this. I will keep it simple.

Hello. My name is Mindy. My husband bought me an iphone, and in the user tutorial it said I could update my blog from my iphone. I thought this sounded fantastic...no better reason to start a blog than this.

And so here I am.