My desk

I am a neat-freak. Dirt and germs do not really bother me, but clutter and disorder cause me a great deal of stress. I love lists, charts, filing systems and containers. I literally run my life out of a day planner ("Blog" is now on my daily task list for November--which is why it gets done). I like my stapler to be parallel to my tape dispenser.  In other words, I like my environment and my mind to be organized and free from chaos.  

That is why, even though I have been buried under my workload this week, I have spent several hours in the last two days scrubbing bathrooms and putting away the nomadic clutter that tends to collect on various surfaces around the house. The effect on my psyche was almost instantaneous, but I knew one more project would have me working more contentedly and efficiently than anything else: organizing my desk. 

Being the anal-retentive type that I am, my desk was not really in an unmanageable state of disorder. But there were some piles that needed a fresh going-through and I decided it was high time I dusted under all my shelves and knick-knacks. Plus I separated ball-point pens from markers in my two pencil cups. You know, the usual stuff I'm sure everyone does to organize their desk...?

Here is the result. I feel lighter just looking at it. That sensation is diminished by looking at the six-inch stack of paperwork removed from the desk which constitutes a significant portion of my "to-do" list. But still. 

I spend a substantial amount of time here. What personalizes my workspace? Here are some items of sentimental value you'll find on my desk, from right to left:

• Pocket-sized book containing The Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America
• Commemorative 50th anniversary milk jar from the BYU Creamery, two-thirds full of loose change
• Bouquet of silk flowers found in my car after work one day along with an assortment of random plastic gifts and a card from Gary and Madelyn saying "Enjoy your prizes for winning the 'Best Mommy Ever' award" (this card is also hanging on my wall, and is one of the two there which feature a fart joke punchline)
• The Seven Decisions from The Traveler's Gift by Andy Andrews 
• Six ribbons I have earned for placing in my age group at various races, including the famous first place debacle at my first half marathon
• Framed photo from Madelyn's first birthday
• Figurine of two wolf pups I thought resembled our huskies enough to give Gary as a gift once upon a time--clearly I liked it more than him
• Turtle carved out of stone brought home from one of my parents' many exotic trips
• Sparkly bean bag frog souvenir from trip to Moab, UT in 2003; I gave similar ones to all my Curves employees at the time
• Matryoshka nesting dolls with illegitimate Simpsons artwork, sent by Bridget from Russia (also featured here)

The best things about my new job

In case you didn't hear, I decided on a whim to get a job at a teen/young adult clothing resale store called Plato's Closet because I wanted to spy on and copy the business model and then open my own similar store, then decided that simply opening one of their franchises would be the better way to go, however upon researching the start-up investment required I've determined that certain areas of our financial portfolio need strengthening before we can make that dream a reality, yet in the meantime I have been thoroughly enjoying this silly little minimum wage, part-time job.

Here's what I like about it:

1. I finally feel fashionable again. Originally I planned to write, "There was a time when I cared about what I wore..." but emphasizing the past tense would not be accurate. I have always cared about my clothing choices and embraced a desire to be fashionable. It was only recently that I really grasped the idea that fashion continued moving forward without me, while I thought I was hip enough (for a mom, I guess) wearing the same things that were cool five--or yes, even ten--years ago.  Multiply this phenomenon by the following facts:  A. For seven and a half years I have worked in a fitness center where I don naught but yoga pants and T-shirts each day.   B. Along with the "Mom" title came a continually morphing, foreign body shape and a stipulation that comfort and durability trump style.  C. When the branches of our money tree aren't heavy with fruit, emulating a page of Marie Claire's "Summer Style Secrets" falls pretty low on the list of financial priorities.  Working at Plato's Closet has provided me with precisely the three elements I needed to catch up to today's current trends: opportunity, education, and economy.

Opportunity~Logically, Plato's Closet associates are expected to reflect the styles we want to buy for the store.  I get excited each day I have the opportunity to concoct a cute outfit to wear.

Education~One of my primary roles at Plato's Closet is sorting and inspecting clothing and accessories that our customers bring in and ultimately select the few items we'll buy.  This part of the job is by far the most fascinating to me, and I have gained remarkable insight on what's hot and what's not, and learn more about current trends every day. I'm asked to make an instantaneous style judgment even on crumpled up garments, and I now know subtle differences in brand qualities as well as names of designers I'd never heard of.  I find this education very interesting.

Economy~The clothing at Plato's Closet is priced at about 30% of the original retail value, and we strive to purchase only items in excellent condition. It's the perfect place for a budget-minded consumer such as myself to update her wardrobe.

2. I get a discount and time to shop three days a week.  I just mentioned that the merchandise is priced cheap. But I get to pay even less! I must intentionally exercise restraint in the store, but it is thrilling to see new items every day I work and find those gems that can be mine for a small fraction of what they cost new.

3. I am not in charge. Don't get me wrong. There are benefits of being the boss. But I get to do that enough to know there are at least as many challenges that come with that territory.  I must admit it is very freeing to blithely punch my clock (so to speak), do as I'm told to the best of my ability, and go home with little more than a whisper of care for what occurs in that building when I am not inside it. The satisfaction of a job well done without strings attached is divine.

4. Learning new skills is fun.  Not much more to say about that. I just love the opportunity to learn something new and apply it. I have never worked in retail, and the Plato's concept is absolutely unique even in that category.

5. It's easier to eat healthfully at work.  This one might sound like an odd thing to love about my job, but it's true. While I sip my protein shake in the morning, I conscientiously put together a healthy lunch for work. It's easy to make better choices in advance, rather than when I feel starved at lunchtime. I record the meal in MyPlate before I leave so I'm confident that I've left sufficient calories to be enjoyed for snacks and dinner.  Since I can't eat lunch until my break, there's no inadvertent snacking when I feel hungry. At lunchtime I thoroughly enjoy my carefully planned and packed lunch, and can't be tempted by everything else in the various nooks and crannies of my well-stocked kitchen.

Sounds pretty sweet, eh? Okay, it's not all rainbows and butterflies. Soon I'll fill you in on the aspects of my silly little job that aren't so rosy.  Can you relate to any of this? What's the best part about your job?

Where I've been

I despise this post. The one where I list all the excuses about why I haven't written anything on my blog for--ugh--over two months.  So I'm not going to do that.

I imagine that those individuals who have (or find or make) time to blog consistently are irritated by posts like this in the same way that I detest hearing people explain why they don't exercise regularly.  Exercise is a non-negotiable part of my (almost) daily life--and sometimes I have to sacrifice to make that so.  Waking up before the sun rises. Lacing up my runners to the sounds of rain berating my windowpanes. Squeezing in a few miles after dark. Postponing important work projects.  I bet some people make sacrifices like those in order to keep their blog entertaining and up to date.

The fact is, we all have the same number of hours in a day. While I don't think it can be argued that each person's workload and time commitments vary significantly, in the end, everyone has an opportunity to choose how we spend at least a portion of the minutes in our day.  I could easily list benefits of both regular blogging and regular exercise, but the exercise list would be far longer, so it is a higher priority, along with work and family time.

The hardest part of an extended blog absence for me is getting started again. Just like when someone stops exercising: the motivation and familiarity has diminished. Also, when I'm not writing, I'm also not reading--even my favorite blogs (don't take it personally). But I'm kind of compulsive about not missing anything, so be prepared for a slew of comments from me on your older posts one of these days. 


So while I don't intend to list all of my excuses for not blogging, I did want to share with you one reason that my already limited spare time has recently decreased further: I got a job.

But I already have a job, right? Yes, I run a business, which is definitely a lot of work. But what I'm talking about now is a real live jay oh bee JOB. I have to show up at a specific time to punch a clock, do what I'm told, and earn a meager hourly wage. Now why on earth would I go and do such a thing? Primarily, for research purposes. Basically, I'm spying on a business concept that interests me for the future. But please don't tell my boss.

That's where I've been working for the last three months. And I actually really love it.  After 7+ years of being the boss, it takes a little getting used to not being "in charge." But truly, that is part of the joy of this fun little venture.  If they'd let me, I would be happy to be paid in store credit, actually.

So now I have a part-time job, run a high-functioning business and a team of 8 employees, take care of a household, and be Mommy to a 3-year-old. Oh, and exercise almost every day. Thankfully my husband is very helpful and supportive. Between all that and family time and reading an awesome new book, I'll try to get back on here and form all the ideas I have for blog posts into something coherent.

Thanks for checking in!

We're ALL winners

It was brought to my attention that I left you all on the edge of your seats about this year's Curves Franchisee of the Year Award. My sincerest apologies.

First let us remember my very first Curves International Convention in November 2003.  I had been a Curves franchisee for one whole year, managing our two wildly successful clubs.  Business was booming so much at that time that we even naively brought 3 of our employees to Las Vegas with us and rented a nice vacation home.  Don't get me wrong, we had a tremendously fun time together dressing in rented saloon girl costumes for the Costume Party and getting piercings. But we learned that Convention is really designed for owners and managers, not employees who may only work for you a few months longer.

Kristen, Josie, Wiyaka, Barbara Nov. 2003

But it was at this first Convention Awards Banquet that I witnessed the bestowal of Franchisee of the Year awards and silently vowed to earn one someday.  The following year, at the urging of some enthusiastic employees, I went ahead and submitted an application to be considered for a Franchisee of the Year.

Barbara, Kristen, Diana Nov. 2004

Back in Las Vegas in 2004, our company (which now owned 3 Curves clubs) received the Silver Franchisee of the Year Award for the Western United States Region. I believe there were 5 regions in the United States at the time, and around 8,000 Curves locations in total. This same year my sweetheart surprised me by secretly flying to Las Vegas and proposing to me on stage in front of the whole weepy crowd.  That entire experience is a highlight of my entire Curves career, as you might easily assume.  I never expected to receive another Franchisee of the Year Award, partly because I figured they don't repeat winners in the interest of fairness, but mainly because since that time, our business has faced a number of challenges.

But I decided to fill out the extensive award application, partly as an exercise for me to focus on the positive things we are doing right and to consider what we have done to overcome our business challenges.  Curves has suffered as a whole due to various far-reaching influences, not the least of which is the economic recession, so I knew that the company would be looking for owners who found ways to "weather the storm."  When my nomination was completed, I realized that no matter what, we had reason to be proud of our accomplishments.

I was notified by phone a couple of weeks prior to Convention that we had been selected as one of the top 3 franchisees in our region and would be receiving either a Gold, Silver, or Bronze award.  Intermittently during Convention, the Projection Screens featured franchisees telling their stories of conquering business challenges such as acquiring a failing club with a bad reputation, and stories of altruistic humanitarianism such as opening their doors to all members of a nearby club destroyed by Hurricane Ike. Listening to these triumphant accounts made me see that we have a long way to go to be the very best. I did not expect to win a gold trophy if being compared to women like those.

This year we were invited to attend a VIP cocktail gathering only for award-winners and corporate big-wigs prior to the banquet.  I expected to feel lost in the crowd there, but I was surprised to find the intimate gathering in a small room far away from the rest of the crowds, where we had opportunity to visit with our company leaders and fellow recognized franchisees. This was an addition to the ceremony of it all that I found rather special.  My Area Director made a comment that made me wonder if this VIP gathering was actually only for the Gold winners. After all, there were only 15-20 people there and half of them worked for Corporate. I tried not to get my hopes up though. Only the first-place winners go on stage to accept their award, and the idea of doing so was giving me butterflies in my stomach for some reason. Unusual.

After finding our reserved seats near the stage for the banquet, we met the others at our table. In addition to some Area Directors, including our own, the only other franchisees at our table was a couple nominated for the same award in our same region.  Even though receiving ANY Franchisee of the Year Award is exceptional, I found it slightly awkward to be sitting together. Actually the woman made it more awkward for me by going over the top with what was intended to be humility and flattery.

She actually said, "I feel so incredibly honored to be in your presence," among other too-gushy comments.  I mean, we were both there for the same reason.  It reminded me of a pageant contestant leaning over to her rival and whispering with a gleaming smile, "I hope you win, sweetie!" just before her own name is announced and her face looks all shocked but it almost seems like she already knew it would be her. Have you ever seen something like that? Well, it's basically what happened at our Awards Ceremony. Ironically, the more this lady (truly, she was very nice) propagated our achievement, the more I believed that she already knew they were winning the gold.

We received the Silver Award again for the Western United States Region.  This year there were only three regions in the US, and there are over 10,000 clubs in total.

An excerpt rom the Press Release:

Award winners were chosen for their adherence to the Curves methods, their success in providing quality service to members, their level of community involvement, and personal recommendations. While there were numerous candidates in each region, winners typically exhibited an extra quality; something special that set them head and shoulders above the rest.

 “Those honored here tonight are doing everything the Curves way, and it shows in the success of their franchises and in the results of their members. We recognize them for daily helping women move away from disease in an environment of support and encouragement,” said Curves CEO Gary Heavin. 

I do fully appreciate having been selected for any award, although, is it inappropriate to admit I'm glad we at least maintained our 2nd-place status? In spite of the nerves I was feeling, I think it would be fun to walk across the stage one day.  Maybe in five more years I'll have done something Gold-worthy.

We intentionally withheld the news about our award nomination from our staff, saving it for a fun surprise when we got home (except one of them reads my blog, so after my Flashback Friday posted in Nashville, she may understandably have spilled the exciting beans).  But winning an award like this is definitely a team effort, and our excellent "family" of Circuit Coaches deserves it.  We all work hard to make our Curves one of the best locally, so it feels wonderful for those efforts to be recognized by the Higher Powers at Curves.  Go team!

 

Kristen and Barbara (aka Mom) Nov. 2009

Flashback Friday: An unforgettable convention

Here in Nashville, Tennessee attending my seventh consecutive year at the Curves International Convention, I thought it would be appropriate to chronicle the story of one that will always be particularly special to me.

For the last two years our convention was held in Orlando, Florida but prior to that we felt quite at home at the Bally's/Paris Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, where we attended for the first four years of my career with Curves.  At the awards banquet at my first convention in 2003, I looked on with admiration at the small handful of clubs to earn the prestigious "Franchisee of the Year" awards.  I made a silent commitment to be in a position to be selected for that award one day, and at the urging of some employees the following year, I submitted the application for consideration.  Which is how in 2004, having been a Curves owner for only two years, at age 22, presently the General Manager of our three club locations, I was selected to receive a Franchisee of the Year award. Whether the award would be Gold, Silver, or Bronze remained to be announced at the Saturday night banquet, but having been chosen at all was the most esteemed honor.

My mother and sister are co-owners in our Curves company.  The three of us attended Convention together that year, and it was a fabulous Girls' Getaway.  In addition to the exciting company announcements and inspiring messages, Curves Convention is all about the ladies taking a little break to rejuvenate.  Many Curves owners bring husbands or family along, but in spite of the fact that my husband and my dad also claim an ownership stake in our company, we've never invited them to participate in Convention (and they are probably grateful). With the exception of the year Madelyn was nursing, Convention has remained one little getaway--even if it is a business trip--that I can count on each fall.

Exactly five years ago today, my mom, sister and I were sitting in the Paris Ballroom along with about 4,000 other women (and a few hundred men), winding down from a full day of informative and motivating speakers.  Just before being released to hit the closest buffet for dinner, the Co-Founder of Curves, Diane Heavin, took the stage to make some final announcements and provide a tidbit of parting wisdom.

Diane spoke about how Curves has been helping make dreams come true for women all over the world.  Then she declared, "There is always room for one more dream, right?"

And this is when the beautiful icon of our entire organization called my name. She invited me to join her on stage. I didn't have to go far, as our Area Directors had located us prior to the session and ushered us to seats near the front of the very large event center.  Along with all of the other VIP's, of course.  As I walked up the steps into the spotlight and joined Diane, I noticed from the corner of my eye that our AD's had gently restrained my mother from following.  It was becoming clear that this was not, as we had logically assumed, related to our award nomination.

When Diane guided me to turn around and face the back of the stage, I could see the giant projector screens  now bearing my image alongside hers.  We stood at the end of a long runway projecting from the main stage, and in front of the black drapery from floor to vaulted ceiling were two 20-feet tall set pieces framing the sides of the stage. One of these large pillars began to rotate in place--much like it would in a game show, revealing on the other side the most tantalizing piece in the grand prize showcase, amidst gasps of envy and applause from the studio audience.

As a matter of fact, the 180-degree turn of this pillar did reveal a very exciting surprise: my sweetheart Gary, dressed up in a suit and tie, carrying a tiny navy blue box.  The gasps from the audience were audible indeed. What they may not have even realized is that he was supposed to be at home a thousand miles away.

Gary walked purposefully to the circular front of the runway.  He very genuinely and sweetly affirmed his love and then dropped to one knee to ask me that very special question.  Among the 4,000 cheering people, many tears were shed, as I was told repeatedly the rest of the weekend.

Now, if you know Gary, this whole story might seem very surprising. He is quite introverted, and prefers not to be the center of attention. Gary's belief that this special proposal would mean a lot to me propelled him to go outside his comfort zone. This stunt required assistance from many important people, up to and including the CEO and Founders of Curves, who undoubtedly have much more important things on their mind in preparation for this huge annual event. Secret phone calls and emails were exchanged with the powers that be, and Gary's mom had the privilege of being temporary ring-keeper.

Remember, Gary doesn't attend Convention with us. He took a flight to Las Vegas Friday morning, and then was shuffled around the bowels of Paris Casino in order to be kept out of sight until the right moment.  Gary got to see areas of a casino/resort that most of us never will. Apparently there was even a timing mix-up and while he was leisurely finishing a solitary lunch while our meetings were supposedly in session, Gary looked up to see a hoard of women in Curves T-shirts approaching.  He called in his emergency troops, who swiftly whisked him away into the hidden labyrinth inside Paris Las Vegas.

After he proposed, Gary returned to our hotel room for a few minutes, but had to catch a cab back to the airport for his flight home only an hour later. In a crazy coincidence, we girls had purchased tickets earlier in the day to attend that evening's performance of Tony n' Tina's Wedding, an interactive dinner-theatre experience that I've always loved. It was the perfect conclusion to my Engagement Day, and provided an excellent backdrop against which to show off my brand new ring and recount the exhilarating events which brought it to my finger.

Gary, Me, Diane Heavin

November 5, 2004

My sister Diana, Gary Heavin, Me, My new fiancée Gary, Diane Heavin, Mom, Area Directors Tom and Valerie

Oh yeah. We won the Silver award for our region. And guess what: we've been nominated for a Franchisee of the Year award again this year too. We'll learn which color tomorrow night!

My plate is full (of Halloween goodness)

Not that daily blogging would ever be a breeze for me, but had there been a way for me to know one of my key employees would quit this month, I doubt I would have taken on the challenge of NaBloPoMo.  The hiring process and hours of training each week in addition to my regular workload complicated the whole ordeal.  Of course, I seem to lack the ability to monitor and limit my commitments anyway, so maybe having that advance perspective I wished for would not have affected my decision to commit to NaBloPoMo during a very busy October.

While I am pleased with the results of Blog-fest 2009, I am very glad it is nearly complete.  In addition to everything else going on this month, I decided a few weeks ago to plan a Trick or Treat party for our friends and their kids (tonight). And I had already committed to host a Halloween lunch gathering on the 30th (yesterday). So the last two days I have spent cooking, cleaning, decorating, doing dishes, and more cooking to prepare for two consecutive Halloween parties at my house.  Granted, my vision for a casual party tonight with a few friends escalated into a full-blown party with over 40 confirmed attending (I figured a lot more people would have other plans on Halloween).  I'm completely thrilled that so many people want to spend the festive evening with us, and I love throwing parties.  It's just a little bigger than I originally anticipated. Oh, and I'm leaving town on a business trip in 3 days, which means on top of everything I have to do all the usual pre-travel preparations, packing, and tying up of loose ends at home and work.  But the going away after it all is worth having a very full plate!

Mine wasn't the only full plate this Halloween. Check out the festive and spooky dishes I served to guests of my two Halloween parties this weekend:

Mummified pizza wrap

Coordinating mini-mummies

Pumpkin cheese ball

Halloween swamp dip with crispy bat wings

Cheesy ghosts

Crunchy bugs

Frozen gummy worms for ice water

Bet you didn't even know what a veritable Martha I am. I discovered a quandary tonight to keep in mind for future parties, however.  I chose 6:30 as the start time for this party specifically to avoid conflicting with family dinner times.  But guests were encouraged to each bring a Halloween-themed appetizer or dessert to share.  The result of these two provisions was three countertops loaded with platters, bowls, and plates of food, and lots of guests who just weren't that hungry.  So I begin to think that in the future, for a party where food will be plentiful, I should go ahead and schedule it earlier, so people will come hungry and eat more.  But that's a tough call, because by scheduling an hors d'oeuvres party earlier, I run the risk of people expecting a full meal and then running out of food with hungry guests.  Most of my friends escaped from my house before I could thrust leftovers upon them, so I was left with a ridiculous abundance of food. I feel terrible that I ended up throwing quite a bit away, because I don't have room for and won't be able to eat it all.  It's just impossible to predict these kinds of things I guess.  But it seems like everyone had a pretty good time, in spite of the mass chaos that 27 adults and 22 children can create in an enclosed space.

Hope you had a SUPER Halloween!

The drawbacks of losing weight

Yes, you read the title correctly. And perhaps you think that aside from underweight individuals and eating disorders, there couldn't possibly be any drawbacks to weight loss: it improves cardiovascular health, decreases a person's risk for a myriad of deadly conditions and diseases, enhances physical appearance and self-confidence, and more.

It is a well-documented phenomenon that individuals who lose a significant amount of weight (often through surgical means) are faced with unexpected emotional and social side-effects, and struggle with a persisting poor self-image, even after body normalization.

Of course, I don't have personal experience with the psychosocial effects related to extreme weight reduction. For that I am tremendously grateful. But my most recent deliberate efforts to improve my body composition have been successful, with drawbacks.

After gaining 67 pounds growing a seven-pound fetus, I returned to my pre-pregnancy weight exactly 9.5 months after giving birth. I easily maintained that weight for five more months, until I stopped breastfeeding, at which time the pounds crept back on. When I noticed I had regained 12 pounds in a year, I got serious and lost it, but not serious enough to maintain the result. Sigh. It is hard work, and my heart goes out to those with much more weight to lose, who could easily become discouraged by the prospect.

This past July I reached my highest weight since losing the pregnancy pounds. I have been exercising seriously and consistently throughout all these fluctuations. I do strength training and cardio at Curves, I run several days a week, I had been walking my hilly neighborhood pushing a stroller, and more. Since working out 6 days a week wasn't doing it, I committed to a generic calorie-counting plan using an online food journal at Livestrong.com. I lost about 6 pounds in a couple of months, and then in September joined my Curves staff in my challenge to complete a cycle of the Curves Weight Management Plan. This program was not only much easier to follow, but more effective as well.

I have now lost a total of 16 pounds in less than three months and weigh a couple of pounds lighter than I did when I got my driver's license at the perky-bodied age of 16. But here is the first major disturbance: My body looks nothing like it did at 16. The scale might give me cause to celebrate a number I haven't seen since before puberty, but the mass of uncooked pizza dough hanging below my rib cage speaks to me otherwise. Sometimes I gather it all up into my hands and fantasize about just slicing it right off with a knife. Of course there are doctors who will do that without such a bloody mess all over my tile floor. And if I can ever get approval from my sweet, loving husband, I might just be wearing the paper gown under those bright lights.

Why can't I tell my body from where to burn the fat? Why does my body think that breasts are less of a necessity than a muffin top? I've always had an average-sized chest, nothing to write home about. While I was expecting, however, I got to enjoy a set of Double-D's for a few months. My hopes of keeping them were dashed, though, as they shrunk to A-cups by the time I was finished nursing. That was small enough, thank you very much, but as I've lost weight recently, I feel like I might need to buy myself a few Hannah Montana and High School Musical training bras! Seriously, it's getting ridiculous. Maybe during my next pregnancy we'll have a few special months with boobs once again. (Yes, I said "we'll," don't you think I'm not the only one who misses them?)

Speaking of pregnancy, that's the next issue. I often wonder why I am making these sacrifices to slim down now when it's only a matter of time before I put my body through that most traumatic of physical changes, including weight gain, again. I guess I've worked with too many women who retained just 10-15 pounds after each pregnancy, compounded until they were 40 pounds overweight. I figure it's easier to return to where you started than it is to lose more than you gain during pregnancy. Also, I'd prefer to be in peak condition when embarking on that journey again, as I believe my physical fitness and body composition affects the entire experience and outcome. Lastly, I don't know exactly when the time to expand our family will be right, and I don't want to suffer the discomforts of flabbiness until then.

Another drawback, which is kind of a catch-22, is the way my clothes fit now. I am physically disturbed when my clothes don't fit right. It is an indescribable sensation, like nails on a blackboard perhaps, and is one of my primary motivations for losing weight. I just can't stand my clothes being too tight or a shirt that is too short exposing the flab above my jeans. The discomfort also applies to sleeves or pants being too short, so it's not just about my fatness. It's also about my longness. Anyway, I still have the awkward flat tire and muffin top to cover around my middle, above where my jeans sit, but the jeans themselves are now looking sloppy and loose. I don't like the way they feel or look, but I'm not sure the next smaller size would quite fit yet. And I don't want a tighter waistband to accentuate the "curves" above it.

(That's not me. Her boobs are way bigger.)

I am moving on with determination to conquer "Phase 3" of the Curves plan, which involves a higher calorie diet alternating with lower calories in order to raise metabolism (which slows during any diet--that is why weight loss eventually plateaus) without regaining the weight lost. After Phase 3, I'll be mentally prepared to make the commitment again after taking the "break" from dieting, and my metabolism will be revved up and ready to burn more. I just hope that what fat remains in my chestal region will be mercifully spared, while that around my belly is finally sacrificed appropriately.

And he wonders why he's unemployed

After getting over the shock of receiving quite unexpected 2-weeks' notice from one of my long-term and highly appreciated Curves employees, I pulled myself together and posted the job opening on craigslist a few days ago. Hiring employees is probably among the most difficult undertakings that my role as owner/manager requires, likely due to the fact that nearly every other aspect of the club operation, member retention, and my own job duties are affected by my ultimate choice. And the interviewing process offers such limited perspective of reality, sometimes I wonder if my instincts should be trusted any more than the flip of a coin.

Craigslist is my preferred method of acquiring applicants, as it is inexpensive and immediately produces a high yield of responses from which to select. Of course, the caliber of people who apply is not always outstanding, but then again, the position of interest isn't typically going to appeal to PhD's. My success in finding the right kind of people for the job improved dramatically when I discovered the category called "salon/spa/fitness" and moved my ad to there from "customer service." The number of responding applicants with a genuine interest in the field and more than call-center experience increased significantly. Working at Curves really is more customer service than anything, but it is nothing like sitting in a cubicle reading a script to people you've never met over the phone. Unfortunately, I've hired applicants from craigslist who didn't last through the initial training, and others who felt their paycheck was well-deserved simply for showing up and not breaking anything. However, I've also discovered some of our most talented team members through craigslist.

Within 48 hours of posting the opening, I had over 20 resumes in my inbox. Among them are several truly exceptional candidates (thank you, 12% unemployment rate), and more than several that I shall politely decline to interview. But no response to my employment ad has ever made as big of an impression as this, from one Nathaniel Davis, Jr. I have copied and pasted it EXACTLY as it arrived in my email box:

..................................................................................................

RE: FAT WOMESN EXERCISE COACH

HEY I WANT TO TRAIN YOUR FAT ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I MEAN IT TO LATE TO LOSE WEIGHT BUT THAT OK YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN CIRCLE AROUND EACH OTHER BEING THAT YALL SO DAM FAT YOU MIGHT GET TIRED ON ONE STEP.

OK GO EATS SOME DONUTS I KNOW YOUR HUNGRY FROM READING THIS>

..................................................................................................

Sigh.

This message is clearly intended to provoke. And by responding to it, he wins that game.

BUT...

there are so many things that should be said to this jerk! Not the least of which is, "Learn English you idiot!" In addition, the misconception that Curves is just for fat people really chaps my hide and is always tough for me to ignore. Then there's the fact that I am not hiring someone to train my fat ass, so his insults are not only repulsive, they are entirely erroneous. But of course any logical refutation from me would fall on deaf ears.

But I got to thinking, 'who is this loser?' To have found my post he must have been perusing the job listings on craigslist, which leaves only two viable possibilities: a) he is a lonely, punk-assed teenager with nothing better to do than surf the web looking for ways to boost his ego by sending scathing emails to individuals who he can assume would be wounded by his efforts, or b) he is a guy looking for a job on craigslist with the same character flaws as the punk described in a). I struggled to envision a grown man seeking employment who could be so stupid or entertain such a waste of time, so I assumed the former to be the most logical scenario.

I knew that responding with righteous indignation would only fulfill his wishes. And explaining how hard I laughed at his preposterously pitiful grasp of both the English language and human decency would also be worthless, because he wouldn't get it. But I could not bring myself to simply delete the email without satisfying my desire to demean this shameful excuse for a person in some small way.

So I sent him a little note:

This is really how you spend your time? How pathetic!

It doesn't encompass the full wrath I wished to unleash, but it curbed my amused outrage. If I expected any response, it would be one similar to the first email. I predicted that Mr. Davis, Jr. certainly had it in him to release his full vicious potential, but I hoped that maybe he'd worry about his mom finding out and would just leave it alone. Instead, I received this response not 10 minutes after I sent my note (again, copied and pasted exactly as he typed it):

..................................................................................................

no! not really , i been unemployed for a year I have an BA in Sociology; an i'm just frustrated. i have applied for many jobs on craigslist just like this one an never get an relied, I actually own 2 german rockwallers, but Im a dawg love, I'm not interested in employment; you could say it pathetic, but I really wanted to see due employers responded. An to due that I had to say something crazy

Hey my bad I hope Didn't scared you also I wouldn't do any thing that crazy.

..................................................................................................

Whoa! I've had to read this over several times in order to interpret, but I think I've got it now. Allow me to translate. Ahem.

No! I am a complete loser who can't spell or compose a complete sentence. I like to tell people that I have a bachelor's degree, even though any college that would offer one to me should be discredited. Otherwise, the entire idea of the degree ought to hold no merit whatsoever. I applied to work at your Curves last year [see below] and you didn't give me any relied [I cannot for the life of me figure out what this word is supposed to be]. I have a couple of big dogs [maybe?] but even though I said I am frustrated about being out of work I am not interested in employment. However, I wanted you (a due [?] employer) to respond to me, and thought that by insulting your clientèle and your core business philosophies I could get your attention. That is not pathetic at all.

Now, I can't tell if his last line ("I wouldn't do any thing that crazy") implies that working at Curves would be crazy and he wouldn't actually do that, or if sending the insulting email would be crazy and he wouldn't actually do that. But he actually did both. Well, he didn't actually work at Curves obviously, but when I searched in my amazing Gmail account for his name to find the emails I wanted to copy for this post, I discovered his resume submitted in November 2008. He GENUINELY APPLIED for a job at my Curves last year. I am sure he does not remember this or have any idea that I now know this, but it makes the entire debacle that much more hilarious to me!

I reviewed his cover and resume, and there is nothing unusual about it. Other than misspelling "craglits.com" and "exercose," his writing is intelligible and professional. It's amazing how a year of unemployment can change a man. And also amazing how one can spell the same word "do" and "due" in sequential sentences. And I use that last term loosely.

Addendum

For several days now I've been itching to add a few sentences to my last post about the recent sale of my business, and now finally have a few minutes to sit down and do so.

Although I maintain a sense that I was pushed out the door with not quite so much as a "thanks and goodbye," it must be emphasized that I am the one who willingly opened that door and stepped out of it.

I am not yet entirely disposed of my connection with this club, as I continued to provide assistance throughout January. While I am still dealing with some aftershocks of the transaction, I have already begun to experience the impending liberation: a tremendous relief which shimmers around the edges with elation.

I am disappointed that I won't have a pleasant memory of parting with my first Curves club to treasure. But along the way I have collected those meaningful memories and expressions of gratitude. I won't forget this journey, one whose story is distinctly beginning, middle, and end.

And then there was one

Since 2002, I have owned a total of five different Curves locations with my husband, parents, and sister. The most we ever operated at the same time was four clubs. The first two locations we opened have been with us the longest: over six years. In 2004, we opened another club near the first two, and sold it a year later. At about the same time, one of our most outstanding employees was forced to move to Eastern Washington because her danged husband's job was transferred. We told her he wasn't worth leaving us, but she insisted on following. When she returned for a visit complaining about the wretched state of her local Curves, my dad suggested she inquire as to whether any of them were for sale. Two of them were, so we secured them both and re-hired our exceptionally talented friend to manage them for us 250 miles away. Last year we sold one of those two clubs, and we are currently making arrangements with our manager/friend to help her purchase the other location from us.

Less than 30 days has passed since new owners officially took possession of our flagship Curves location; the very first club we opened. Unfortunately, the sale of my "baby" Curves was depressingly anti-climactic. This club, and its employees and members, was a very important fixture in my life for what feels to me like a significant period. At certain times my life seemed to literally revolve around the needs of this club; her challenges were both demanding and edifying.

Unfortunately, the sale process was needlessly drawn out due to various errors and mundane details, leaving us all eager to simply see it finished. This anxiety overshadowed my once prominent emotional perspective on having to let go of the establishment I nurtured to success. Then our intentions to solemnly share and celebrate the news with our team members in person were dashed by Jack Frost's unruly December snowstorm.

Assumed friendships suddenly evaporated into the bleak reality of mere acquaintanceship, and I feel as though something was missing from the conclusion of my tenure. I don't mean to sound like I expected a lavish farewell event or parting gifts. It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what I expected, but the experience leaves me with a sense of disorder. It rings with a lack of finality.

I have never fooled myself into believing I am the perfect business owner or boss--the life lessons I have endured at Curves are innumerable. I've been through rough times where I wasn't able to give what I once did to Curves--precisely the reason we sought excited new minds to expand upon its potential with their fresh perspectives. But I feel like I made a difference for a lot of women. And perhaps my knowledge of that should be enough.

The anti-Flashback Friday

Here we are. Tomorrow is Flashback Friday, but I haven't added any fresh insights to my blog since the last one. My fear in initiating FF was that I would at times neglect or be unable to post Saturday through Thursday, and as a result turn my blog into one flashback story after another without the more intellectual musings holding them together. After successfully conquering NaBloPoMo, Flashback Friday remained the motivating force encouraging me to write 3-4 posts per week so I wouldn't have a loser blog. Up until this point, it has worked, but I have also realized that I often write to fulfill my obligation to maintain this self-imposed "schedule." I find myself trying to think of something to say so I can write, rather than writing because I have something to say. Big difference.

Then, I read Bridget's list of 65 books she read in 2008. By my calculation, that's one and one-third books per week! One reader mentioned in a comment that she read 97 books in 2007. That statistic, for me, is more frightening than impressive. For a long time I just haven't had much interest in reading. Running multiple locations of my own business took so much of my time, and now having a toddler leaves me cramming an 8-hour workday to-do list into a 2-hour nap [Note: it does not work, and I constantly feel a day or two behind].

Recently the urge to read has reappeared. I suddenly recall novels that gripped me years ago and long for that melancholy stupor that lingers after the last page of a really good book. When I learn of literature that intrigues me of late (often reviewed by Bridget as well), I find myself yearning for time to investigate them. When asked by another reader how she manages to read so much, Bridget responded that she has always been a fast (while still thorough) reader, and she chooses to spend her "discretionary" time reading, as others might choose to knit, watch TV, scrapbook, etc.

I am not a fast reader. I never have been. The wiring in my brain requires me to read each word as if I were reading it out loud. Imagine how much longer it would take you to read a novel aloud to someone else than reading it to yourself, and that's about how long it would probably take me. If I try to read faster, I end up having to go back and re-read a whole paragraph either because I actually missed a word and get confused, or because my obsessive-compulsive concern that I might have missed a word demands it.

We all choose how to spend our discretionary time, and some of us have more of it available than others. I feel like I have very little, and wondered why that is. And so I did what any self-respecting nerd would do: put it to research. For five consecutive days, I analyzed how I spent my time. I basically punched a proverbial clock each time my activity shifted, recording what I was doing and labeling each segment under broader categories. I tried hard to avoid reactivity, genuinely going about my day as I normally would. This was a very interesting exercise, and I learned some weird things. For example, I spent an average of 2 hours per day just preparing and eating meals, and an additional, equal amount of time "getting ready" (for the day, to go somewhere...).

Pertaining to discretionary time, I realized that when I am not specifically engaged in a necessary task such as getting my daughter dressed or making dinner, I am constantly trying to work. I try to sneak work in whenever I can. When Madelyn is distracted, I'll make a few phone calls. I'll let her watch TV so I can work on my computer. And as soon as she is asleep or under my husband's care, I am immediately drawn to check my to-do list and accomplish work-related tasks before anything else.

What this discovery revealed about my priorities was unsettling. But as I mentioned above, it is very difficult to fit a full-time job into a few hours a day, and this is the way I have grown accustomed to managing my predicament.

When I do feel satisfied enough with my productivity to put my work aside, I am enticed by blogging (as well as reading several others). At the risk of humiliating myself, I will disclose that a coherent post takes me about 2 hours to write and edit. On one of the days in my "study," all of my discretionary time was spent updating my two blogs. But Bridget blogs more than I do, and she has two kids, not one and finds plenty of discretionary time on top of it all. I'm not trying to compete with her, or anyone else, I am just trying to understand why I don't have time to read five books a year, let alone 65. My day-to-day analysis did not reveal any obvious "here's where you're wasting your time" activities, and believe me, I was looking for them so they could be eliminated.

So this leads me to the reason for this Non-Flashback post. I want to read. I want to blog, but only when there is a matter I feel compelled to write about. And therefore I am demoting Flashback Friday to a bi-weekly feature. Most likely no one would have noticed or cared, but I wanted to talk through my process of justifying less frequent posts. I'm sure there will be spurts of creativity when I'll be writing more. But when presented with the little bit of "me" time that I am afforded, I don't want to decline an interest I would rather be pursuing because I am pressuring myself to write a certain number of posts each week.

Right now, for example, New Moon (second in the Stephenie Meyer Twilight series) is propped up behind my laptop screen, begging fiercely for me to crack it open and start. I read Twilight last week instead of writing 3 blog posts, and I can't say I regret it. Now I'm off to continue the saga, feeling better that I have at least touched base with my devoted fans.

Ahem. That's you.

Flashback Friday: You really can be too nice in this business

When I was 15 or 16, I got a job at a restaurant a few miles away from my high school. It is one of the nicest restaurants in the area, although still a few notches down from being true "fine dining." I was a hostess: seating and clearing tables, and quickly worked my way up to being a lead hostess. As lead hostess, I basically ran the entire restaurant. Okay, so I wasn't in fact managing employees or cooking the food, but the choices I made as lead host affected every area of the crew and made an impact on the success of the entire shift. Don't underestimate that girl (or guy) at the front of the house with the clipboard, because a great deal of control rests in her hands. An incompetent lead host will activate a domino effect resulting in poor service, slow ticket times, and dissatisfied customers. But I was a damned good lead host. And my General Manager not only knew it, she kindly told me so on multiple occasions. I left the restaurant when the time came to start my (short-lived) college education.

During summer vacation, I was thrilled to finally be old enough to step into the enviable role of a foodserver. At this particular restaurant, the requirements for servers are pretty strict. We had to memorize every ingredient in every item on the menu. We were required to ask specific questions when greeting a table, and set each plate at a specific visual rotation in front of the guest. There were no notepads allowed--we memorized all orders for tables with fewer than 6 guests. I took the job seriously, and worked to become highly proficient at the many skills required to excel in such a fast-paced environment. I am an excellent multitasker, and to this day that aspect remains my favorite memory of foodservice. During a busy shift, I might be simultaneously inputting the four-top order I memorized from table 21 since their salads just arrived, printing a guest check for table 11, calling for a side of thousand from the cold side of the kitchen, filling water glasses for the new guests at 20 on my way to pick up Long Islands at the bar for table 10 after I grab the side of thousand from Jose, back to my section to drop off the check, waters, drinks, and dressing, then take 20's order, grab a few app plates for them, head back to the kitchen where I run food to table 109 and pick up the credit card from 11 before returning to put in the app order for 20 and run 11's card. I grab dessert menus for 30 on my way out with food for table 52, and drop off the menus before returning the credit card slips and bidding goodnight to the guests at 11. And it goes on and on like this. Usually with more weird requests and unexpected problems than you'd probably ever guess.

Since I did not return to school in the fall, I continued my "education" in the restaurant. And truly, I did learn a LOT--about people, about on-the-job politics, and about life. I am still learning from this job, as experiences become currently relevant to a lesson I am ready to learn.

I worked in this restaurant for a total of 5 years, most of the time enduring a love-hate relationship with the place. I enjoyed the social interaction with my co-workers. I made more money than I needed on a very flexible schedule. I felt like I did a good job and my customers liked me. On the other hand, I dealt with some despicable human beings, had to pick up the cloth napkin I saw an old man repeatedly blow his nose into, and the manager who had once showered me with praise for my skills as a hostess did not apparently feel that my server persona deserved the same appreciation. Despite my compliance, sales results, and complimentary comment cards, I felt as thought I was constantly fighting for "The General's" approval. My every move was under intense scrutiny, and I would be called on innocent mistakes and little discretions that I had watched numerous servers get away with right in front of her.

I was eventually asked to resign from my position as a foodserver in this restaurant. Just before my shift one day, I was invited into the manager's office, where she explained to me that my service had generated the final customer complaint necessary for her to terminate my employment. What follows is the story of my reprehensible customer service.

It was a beautiful, sunny day. We had the outdoor seating open and the empty tables beckoned anyone who would enjoy a good meal near a sparkling fountain under the warm sun. My shift had barely started at mid-afternoon, so I was ready and full of energy. My first table to arrive was a large group: at least 10 or 12 people, adult men and women, looked as though it might be a family but I couldn't be sure. After the host pulled together a few of the round, umbrella-clad patio tables (always an awkward proposition, but worth it to sit outside on a gorgeous day like today), I bounded outside to greet them. I said hello and asked everyone how they were doing. Those who did not reply with silence did so with little more than a grunt. I thought that was strange, and didn't intend to have these bummers bring me down with them. I made a cheery comment about the delightful weather, and then continued with my usual (required) spiel about the menu, specials, soups and so on.

We continued in this manner throughout their meal. Me: friendly and perky. Them: gloomy and callous. Finally they paid their bill and went on their way. Only I caught sight of one of the gentlemen from the group speaking with a manager in the bar. He approached me and shared that these customers had not been satisfied with my service. I was immediately defensive, explaining how every aspect was impeccable, and that I was totally nice to them in spite of their crotchety moods. This is when he informed me that the group had just come from a funeral. They did not apparently appreciate me being so friendly and happy. They also did not apparently think that I was just doing my job, and that normally servers are expected to be friendly and happy. They did, however, apparently think that they bore some sort of tell-tale sign that I should have recognized as the reason for their less-than-sunny dispositions. I swear, there were no black veils or funeral programs in view; I don't even think they were all wearing black or I might have put two and two together.

At any rate, I had no clue about the circumstances that brought them together at our restaurant that afternoon. But I do believe that even a person in mourning can appreciate a lovely, sunny day, and that I shouldn't be penalized for being friendly and vivacious. But that is precisely what got me fired.

Sitting in the manager's office, staring at a form I was being asked to sign indicating my resignation, I was dumbfounded. I thought about all of the truly terrible things I could have done to bring me to this moment instead of being too nice, things I may have even considered at various times. I thought about my co-worker who had recently stormed out in the middle of his shift, but was back at work the next week. I wondered to myself if this same "complaint" had been received by one of Leslie or Catherine's tables, would the managers have even bothered to write it in their files?

I couldn't help but be offended when The General asked me to consider whether foodservice was "the right job" for me. I had worked my butt off for this company, and for each of the negative remarks in that little manila file, there are dozens of positive comment cards and countless clients who left my section with a smile on their face and a big fat tip on the line. So instead of signing her paper meant to protect the company, I let her fire me.

Of course foodservice isn't the right job for me! There are few people in the world who can make a career surviving in that environment. And I'd venture to say they all know how to suck up to the boss better than me. The truth is, when I was fired, only three months remained until the Grand Opening of our first Curves club. So it was really inconvenient to have to find a new job, and get hired under the false pretense that I would be able to stick around long-term. But with 5 years at that restaurant on my resume, I got the job I wanted in an instant. And since the standards there were relatively lax compared with my previous job, I was able to proudly demonstrate some of the best service they had ever witnessed, and left them wishing I could stay. I don't believe they would have ever considered "too friendly" a complaint worth even writing in my file.

The stash

If you have been wondering why I keep getting fatter and fatter (I know I have), the photo below should unravel the mystery. No it is not a pregnancy pee stick with a pink plus sign. Sorry.

Behold, our treat cupboard. That's right: we have an entire cupboard with two pull-out shelves dedicated to housing edibles of the sweet snack variety. And recently, this is more of a backup plan, since our counter has been decorated of late with various baked goods and candy we have received as gifts/party leftovers/church fellowship bribes.

I would like to point out a couple of things about the photo, though. In our defense, most of the items pictured are never touched. For example, we dumped Madelyn's Trick-or-Treat haul in the front corner. We don't really care for the selection, but hated throwing it away, you know? Also, most items on the top shelf were intended to be toddler snacks, but we rarely give them to her since we feed our daughter much more healthfully than ourselves, apparently. The brown box right in the middle is bona fide Japanese chocolate-covered potato chips, left here by Yuka. She went home to Japan in June. There are really only a few staple treats here, two of which are indicated by the gaping bags, clearly left open to facilitate ease of handful acquisition without wasting precious time pulling apart the resealable closure.

As owner of (and faithful believer in) multiple Curves facilities, it is embarrassing to admit that I enjoy some manner of delectable treat no less than once per day, and usually more often. The thing is, I manage to exercise 5-6 days every week. We eat healthy, balanced meals most of the time. But it's time to admit that I am addicted to sugar. This is an addiction whose power must rival that of nicotine or coffee, but is so often overlooked. And I'm a victim of it. I know because it is very difficult for me to turn down sweets, even when I'm stuffed full, and even when there is no reason to have them. My mind can be saying to me clearly, 'you don't need to eat this,' and I take another bite.

There is a certain euphoria that accompanies the delicious sweet taste, and it's a deadly combination. I'm sure there is research out there to support my assumption that the chemical effect on the brain is similar to what some drugs would do, although almost certainly more mildly.

I have been working with people who need and want to lose weight for over six years. It is no fun to see them struggle. But as their Curves coach, I can provide information and encouragement; the rest is up to them. I have thus far been blessed with a decent body composition, but I think many of my Curves members looked about like me 15 or 25 years ago too. Everyone started by gaining the first five pounds. I know I need to be more vigilant, but overcoming addiction is hard. Conversely, justification is so easy to come by. And given that it's "The Holidays" (Halloween through the first week of January, you know), I'll be faced with my vice at every turn.

I won't ever be that person who doesn't eat junk food. I love it. I'm happy to pay for the privilege through faithful exercise. I believe moderation, not abstinence, is the key. So the second week of January, I'll start moderating like nobody's business. I swear.

Can't we ALL just get along?

I just got home from working a shift in one of my Curves clubs tonight. At one point, my dad arrived to check on a maintenance issue as well as talk business with me for a few minutes. His entrance prompted a query from a member which initiated this reflection.

If I'm being honest, I am slightly intimidated by the member who asked me. She is very tall, but her presence is bigger than her stature. Not terribly boisterous or energetic, she simply exudes an air of assertiveness that causes me to tiptoe carefully through our conversations. I have trouble reading her cues--often unsure if her comments are meant to be playfully sarcastic or passively caustic.

Sensing that this member is constantly judging me, I generally feel the need to be cautious of what I say around her. She suddenly asks, "Do you get along better with your mom or your dad?" I realize it could be an innocent question, but it is also characteristically prying coming from this particular woman.

After mentally screening the question for an ulterior motive, I consider it and finally answer, "I guess my mom, but I get along with both of my parents pretty well." I am sure that response was chalked up as another point supporting her false image of Kristen's idyllic, superficial life.

Our exchange ended there, but I continued to ponder the question, and the reasoning behind my reply. If forced to select between the two, I suppose I do get along slightly better with my mom. Why is that?

First of all, my mother's ability to "get along" could constitute a dictionary definition. She is the most kind and generous person that I personally know, and probably accommodating to a fault. So I'm not sure it would be humanly possible not to get along with my mom.

Next, I am probably more like my father where inter-personal characteristics are concerned. And these are often the areas where opposites attract. Put two people with a strong propensity toward leadership together and the waters won't always remain calm. But add to that scenario the fact that I am in the submissive "daughter" position, and the entire dynamic is precariously altered.

Lastly, I am a very emotional person. This is one quality which I inherited completely from my mother. I could be convinced that my dad doesn't even utilize his "right brain," if it weren't for his skills with a dry-erase pen and a whiteboard. : ) Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but honestly, the man struggles to grasp the intricacies of the female psyche (what man doesn't?). So he rarely comprehends why I (or Mom or Sister) am grappling with an emotional issue when a purely logical solution is blatantly evident. Since my mother and I speak the same language, we communicate more easily and effectively.

But in spite of our similarities and differences, I love both of my parents in a very unique and precious way. I treasure our relationships for exactly what they are, unbound by expectations of perfection. It's not idyllic, and thankfully, so very far from superficial.

My Wedding Day ~ July 2005

So...do you get along better with your mom or your dad?

Cyber-tag

All the fun of the classic children's game, without the pesky social interaction and exercise! I've been tagged by Bridget, so here goes:

FOUR RANDOM THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY HUSBAND:
1. He can be adorably goofy
2. He does approximately 90% of the housework
3. He loves to read stories to our daughter
4. He puts up with ME

FOUR JOBS I'VE HAD:
1. Foodserver at Stanford's
2. Foodserver at Monteaux's
3. Curves Owner
4. Mother

FOUR MOVIES I'VE WATCHED MORE THAN ONCE:
1. The Cutting Edge
2. Fried Green Tomatoes
3. The Shawshank Redemption
4. Waiting for Guffman

FOUR TV SHOWS I WATCH:
1. The Simpsons
2. The Office
3. So You Think You Can Dance?
4. South Park

FOUR PEOPLE WHO EMAIL ME REGULARLY:
1. My mom
2. Karen D
3. Melinda M
4. Linda T

FOUR OF MY FAVORITE FOODS:
1. Cheese (most varieties)
2. Peaches
3. Avocados
4. Chocolate Chip Cookies (recently the "Panookie" at a local restaurant which is an amazing fresh baked cookie-in-a-pan. Mmmm)

FOUR PLACES I WOULD LIKE TO VISIT:
1. Australia
2. Fiji
3. Aspen, CO
4. Alaska (this time on a road trip instead of a cruise)

FOUR THINGS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IN THE COMING YEAR:
1. Following Madelyn's cognitive development
2. Camping with Wiyaka, DJ, and Lilly
3. The new Winkel Family Christmas Box tradition
4. Embarking on some new life adventures

FOUR PEOPLE I TAG:
1. Julee (something to take your mind off the morning sickness, and an excuse to put something on your blog!)
2. Sarah E
3. Wiyaka
4. Jeni

When people email me surveys like this, I never do them. So I will completely understand if you don't want to play.

Also, in an attempt to redeem myself from the pathetic single post in October, I have semi-accepted* Bridget's challenge to join on the NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) bandwagon. So I'll be attempting a daily blog in November.

*so if I fail miserably I can pretend I wasn't really committed

Did you miss me?

I cannot believe that it has been over a month since I have contributed to my own blog. I was out of town for ten days, and greeting me upon my return was an unusually large and stressful Mountain of Urgency. While chipping my way through the to-do list (its nature to acquire new tasks more quickly than the old are checked off), I not only found myself having to choose between blogging and sleep, but also in the throes of dis-inspiration.

Maybe it's just the extra strain on my psyche, but I am struggling to form ideas into coherent sentences fit for entertainment or enlightenment. And if not for one or the other (or both), then what is the use in writing?

One roadblock I had in starting this blog in the first place was determining its "voice." What did I want to say, or not say, in such a forum? What tone should the writing take and how important would it be to maintain it for continuity? Who will comprise my audience and to what extent should I care about what they think?

Some of the subjects that I want to write passionately about are of the controversial variety. As a business owner, maintaining political and religious ambiguity is a necessary and delicate art. I would like to believe that true friends could respect differences of opinion. But I have too few true friends to risk offending the remaining friendly acquaintances who might discover the unveiling of my oft non-mainstream views.

There is one type of blog I did not want to emulate. So as not to offend anyone, you can check out this uber hilaralicious parody called seriously so blessed. Just be careful that you don't lol too hard or you might P your cute li'l panties. Now, I would be happy to have thought of that particular website (cha-ching), but the real-live fairy-tale-land brag-fests like that make me want to hurl my cookies, if you know what I mean. I don't wish to add 'strained eye-rolling muscles' to the list of crap that happens in my real life by reading about your perfect one. There are websites that I do admire, and I had fleeting visions of making a very healthy living and taking exotic trips courtesy of banner advertising, until I realized that I'm just not that talented nor interesting.

So I accept that my blog will simply be something fun for me and maybe a handful of amigos, yet at times I still feel paralyzed with self-doubt, if not just plain Writer's Block. I have a list of topics to formulate into posts, and I expect that one by one they will take life. So I hope you keep checking back, in case I come up with anything worthy of a big fat paycheck from Google. (I'll need you to tell them about it.)