Bargain-priced liberation

It’s amazing how much detritus one can build up over the course of 33 years. We were very fortunate a few weeks ago to have the opportunity to bless someone else with my former “treasures.”

My mother and I had been prepping our items for the last three months, stealing the little minutes that we could find to sort through our lives and decide what items no longer fit with our life priorities. My own criteria was to find the items that didn’t make me happy when I held them, that didn’t fit with my personally defined style, or that I had outgrown without the residual nostalgia that clung to some of the items from my youth.

Early to rise, coffee in hand, my mother and I lugged our (far more numerous than we had realized) items to the Fort Stanwix Parking Garage. The shoppers were so enthusiastic that an hour had gone by before we had all of our items unpacked and prices; we were too busy exchanging merchandise for cash and making change. It is always amazing to me how someone can have something to offer that was just what someone else had been looking for. Even though we were on the third floor, we had a steady flow of shoppers and bargain hunters.

At the end of the day, exhausted and happy, we took our remaining items (many fewer than we had anticipated) away to be donated. As many of you who have undertaken something similar know, the feeling of relief was almost palpable; not only had we winnowed our possessions down to those of true value to us, we had completed an epic three-month effort to better our lives and our homes.

Sincere thanks and kudos go to Rome Main Street Alliance for coordinating an event that undoubtedly took an enormous amount of work. Their volunteers were friendly and helpful, and the event was very well-organized. My mother and I had a wonderful time making deals and watching others walk away with just the thing they were looking for (and a few serendipitous surprises!). In addition, I got the opportunity to meet many of my readers, who miraculously recognize me from my picture, no matter how bedraggled and sleep-deprived I happen to be when they see me.

(P.S. So many of my dear readers have noticed the absence of my columns periodically over the past several weeks. Life has thrown me, and my memory, several curve balls. I hope you haven’t missed them too much, and I hope to be more consistent in the future! Thanks for reading.)

Work hard, play hard

As you may remember, dear reader, I’m a little prone to workaholism. I come by it naturally, as my father always worked long hours and wouldn’t quit until something was completed, sometimes to the exclusion of things that he enjoyed or valued more. I know well that a job well done can turn into a job that could be better done or a job that isn’t quite up to my own high standards.

We’ve had a little shimmying around in the office with the summer coming up, and in order to have the coverage that we needed at the Capitol, I’ve started doing regular work-a-day hours. At first I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get enough done; I was used to working afternoons, late nights and weekends, and wasn’t sure how regular days would sit with me.

To my complete surprise, I have found that a regularly structured work day, with defined start times and slightly-less-defined but still recommended end times, presented a rare opportunity for closure to my work week. By working similar hours daily Monday-Friday, I was better able to turn my “work brain” off at night and enjoy my personal time. My weekends are more defined as well, because I know that I’ve done the best that I can do for the hours in which I was scheduled. I can accept social engagements and initiate projects at home without worrying about items left undone at the office.

Those of you who already work consistent hours may know whereby I speak. On the flip side, some of you may have regular hours and take them for granted, dreading the mornings and fleeing in the evenings without considering just how valuable work closure can be. Unfortunately, some people who run their own businesses or work jobs that keep them on call may have more difficulty finding the closure they need. Still others have jobs that meld so well with their life values and goals that work and personal life don’t need to be separated. To the latter, I offer my sincere congratulations; it is a goal we all strive to achieve, whether we admit it or not.

I am closer to that goal than I was in past positions, but the added complication of being prone to workaholism makes it inadvisable to throw myself entirely into the things I love about my job because I automatically generate more work for myself. Having created the monster, I must constantly strive to keep it in check.

Now that summer is upon us, I wish you all the wherewithal and presence to make boundaries between work and the other things you value where they are needed. Summer is a great time to enjoy family and friends, to relax and take life a little slower. Save me a glass of lemonade.

A reason to celebrate

I am writing this on the 200th birth anniversary of compose Richard Wagner. Art and I both huge Wagner fans, and we plan to celebrate by watching Otto Schenk’s production of Siegfried at the Metropolitan Opera—all 4+ hours of it.

Even if you aren’t a big Wagner fan, I would wager that some artistic form has resonated with you in your life. Some people love the Beatles or the Rolling Stones. Some people love Andy Warhol or Monet. Some people like Diane Arbus or Ansel Adams. Some people are just as happy with their children’s artwork on the refrigerator.

Most people don’t give it a second thought, but arts are all around us. From the design of your dining room chairs to the architecture of the buildings in your city, someone has used art to build our world as we know it. Often, we take these arts for granted and they blend into the background.

Have you ever considered what our lives would be like without arts? Grocery circulars would be lists of items and their prices. Magazines would be devoid of images, and often of the writing contained therein. Baked beans would have no place to live; their cans were designed, as was an open bowl, and a plate. Cars would cease to exist. Shoes would consist of swaddled feet. Parks such as Central Park would be absent from the landscape. And you better take a look at that landscape and remember it, because paintings and photographs would not be available to help you remember.

As you go about your daily activities, I hope you will consider what the arts mean to you. At the Capitol, we have a lot of great programs in the works. We recently partnered with pianist Greg Unangst to offer musical lessons in one of our new buildings. We’re planning a new educational series for next year that will use arts and creativity to teach students concepts in a variety of subjects.

Although we offer structured arts activities to our audiences and our community, and we would love for you to attend and participate, arts are really all around us. You can listen to music in your home, or take photos while you are on vacation. If you want to look more closely, you can learn to play an instrument or take a photography class. You can enjoy wearing your favorite sweater, or learn to knit or crochet. You can finger paint with a child or experiment with watercolor landscapes. The possibilities are really quite endless.

I’ll be thinking of you while Siegfried is slaying Fafner and rescuing Brunhilde. I hope you have an artistic week!

Finding the white violets

I’ve had lots of things that I could potentially feel sorry for myself about in recent weeks. A week-long cold from which I’m still recovering, the unexpected death of a friend, and some unexpected bills come to mind, among other things. I’ve kind of just felt like the hits keep on comin’.

That said, these things happen to all of us, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that our perceptions create our reality. If I were just to dwell on the bad and ignore the good, it would be easy to think that our lives are made up of hard times and woe. Honestly, though, for most of us it isn’t really true.

My friend was a sweet, generous, and caring woman who lost her battle with rapid-onset cancer. She left behind her husband and three grown boys. It was very sad to lose her, and to see the suffering of others who loved her. But the love in the room was obvious. Flowers had come from all over the place in memory. Family from both sides were talking and remembering. And loved ones were there to offer a shoulder as they grieved. The day was sunny and cloudless, and a perfect day to pay tribute to someone who brought so much light into so many lives.

Being sick lately reminded me to listen to my body. In the past, I had taken a child-like view of getting better. Take medicine, whine, and wait it out. This time, I drank lots of fluids, got tons of rest, and didn’t jump back into work too early. (Fortunately, I was aided in relieving my usual back-to-work antsyness by being sick over a few light days and a weekend!) Thus, I could return to productivity well-rested and on the mend, rather than dragging it out for another week.

The other day, before I had this most recent think-good-thoughts revelation, I was out hanging laundry on the line. Though I still had the sniffles, it was nice to be out in the fresh air, hanging up clean clothes. I dropped a clothespin, and when I leaned down to pick it up, I noticed that in amongst the purple violets were some white violets, my favorites. They were all concentrated in that tiny section of the yard. If I hadn’t dropped my clothespin, I never would have noticed it.

Sometimes adversity is like that. Seemingly unfortunate things need to happen sometimes for us to see the nicer things. But it will only happen if we look closely and allow ourselves to see them. I wish you all the best this week, and hope that you give yourself the chance to see the good things.

Trying times

I returned from a trip out of town on Monday to hear the news of the Boston Marathon explosions. To say I confronted a mix of emotions all at once would be an understatement. I had come from a pleasant day of forward-thinking and idea-generating among colleagues and peers, and that optimism was suspended in an instant when I heard the news. The fact that the details were spotty at best made me even more anxious.

I have friends who are marathoners, and I have always admired their tenacity and dedication. The Boston Marathon is one of those badges of honor; it’s an iconic race with a storied history and heritage that is part of our national fabric, for athletes and non-athletes alike. While some of the runners are elite, someone who may consider themselves a “regular” person also has the dream of running in it within their grasp. I even have dreams of running it myself someday. For me, it is one of those ultimate forms of achievement: a consistent, concerted effort to use your willpower, stamina and physical ability to accomplish a goal alongside scores of others. Those of you who run the Boilermaker are also in this category, and I salute all of you.

For these explosions to take place, especially at the finish line of something so inspiring and exaltant, somehow makes it even more inexcusable. It is terrible enough to be a coward and bomb people going about their everyday business. It is another thing to cause death and mayhem in a location where nations and individuals come together to celebrate their similarities and reach an ambitious goal together.

In times like these, I’m reminded to take Mr. Rodgers advice and “look for the helpers.” Rather than dwelling on the details that have come about the bombing, the speculation about its genesis, and the graphic images of its carnage, I have been reading articles about those who selflessly gave their help, even in the face of danger. The first responders; the businesses who offered food, shelter and a quiet place to reflect; the blood donors who kept the Red Cross fully (and even over-) stocked; the people who opened their homes or gave their clothing and food to strangers. These are the Americans I know. It is not about fear or tragedy, it is about resilience and assistance and compassion.

I’m sure we’ll hear more about the person or people behind the bombings, but in a lot of ways, for many Americans it seems secondary. The event itself is becoming overshadowed by our willingness to help each other and be grateful for our blessings and the little things. Fortunately, my loved ones who were running are all accounted for, but my heart goes out to those who have experienced the loss and heartache of a loved one who is missing, injured or worse. Please keep them in your thoughts.

Everything’s Coming Up Roses

When Art and I first started dating, I told him I wasn’t a “flowers” kind of girl; partly because I was a bit of a tomboy, and partly because I had never really had a boyfriend who would buy me flowers, so I had decided that it didn’t matter. Much to my later dismay, Art has a great memory, which is rather unfortunate considering that I have since become the kind of girl who loves receiving flowers.

Once in a while I get a bouquet from my mom or my dad, for birthdays or special accomplishments or occasions. It is always a lovely surprise; I receive flowers so rarely that they are the last thing I would expect. (And yes, Art has gotten me flowers from time to time. Ever pragmatic, the reason he usually doesn’t is because they are a feline delicacy in our house.)

However, the one time of year that I look forward to flowers in Administrative Professionals Day, which this year falls on Wednesday, April 24th. At the Capitol, we do a small annual fundraiser where we sell roses to raise funds for programs and services that we offer as an organization. Aside from being a great little fundraiser, it means that I am surrounded by flowers with pretty scents and colors for a day, and sometimes more.

Administrators are the great unsung heroes of every organization. They are the ones who provide a steady presence, taking care of the little details and seamlessly making sure that things don’t get out of hand in the office. They are often so good at what they do that we don’t notice how important they are, but we would certainly notice if they were gone.

Our administrators, especially the ladies, often enjoy the heightened awareness of our value among our board members. Each year, Ray and Gail Tucker buy some for each of us in the office (we love them, and thanks!), and other board members are made more aware of the work we do through the publicity surrounding the holiday. We often get sweet comments and cards celebrating the work we do everyday.

I personally think that every job should have its own day. Everyone needs to feel appreciated from time to time! Ideally, we would create a culture of appreciation year round, but days like Administrative Professionals Day helps remind us that we are all pulling in the same direction. Every job can be a little (or a lot) thankless from time to time, and it’s nice to know that others notice and appreciate the work to which we give a major part of our lives.

Do you know of any administrative professionals (or anyone else for that matter) who would enjoy surprise flowers on April 24th? The roses in the sale are only $15.00 per dozen. I think that’s a pretty small price to pay to make someone’s day, especially considering the contributions that they make all year long. If you’d like to order some, or would like more information, give us a call at the Capitol at (315) 337-6453 and we’d be delighted to help you show your appreciation.

A computer-free weekend

For all my crowing about technology, you would think that I would want it morning, noon and night. But I find technology to be a bit of a double-edged sword. For all that it has to offer in the ways of speed and convenience, it also tends to have a de-humanizing, sterilizing effect on my social life and my relationships. Sometimes I find that I just have to unplug to reconnect.

In the interest of regrouping and spending some quality time with Art this past weekend, I declared on Thursday evening that I would have a computer-free weekend. No email, no iPad, no Facebook, no Twitter, no blogging, no searching for trivia on the smart phone. Nada, zip, zilch. I made the statement out of frustration, but I found after the fact that it posed a few problems that I hadn’t anticipated.

In addition to this blog/column, I also have a daily blog, The Daily Kylie (which you may remember from my column a few weeks back). Because it is daily, enough content has to be produced to post daily. Thursday evening I wrote four blog posts, one each for Friday-Monday (they post at 8:00am, so I didn’t want to have to get up early on Monday and dive right back in). I also had to create an away message for my email. I also had to think about all of the instances that I would normally use the computer over the weekend, and make sure that I could make do without it. This included things like cooking (I always search for recipes that use up my leftovers), random research about movies that we were watching (who was that unbilled character actor in the courtroom scene? Was that so-and-so?) and tracking my expenditures (I usually use a combination of an Excel spreadsheet and online banking). Yes, it has gotten that bad! I had to plan ahead to detach myself from my artificial brain.

Once I did, however, it was like a whole new world opened up. I remembered the joy of reading books and magazines, of searching through my myriad cookbooks for something good to eat, of quietly mending clothes and writing letters. My mother came over on Sunday for a nice dinner, and Art and I went bowling. I got some things done around the house that had been hanging over my head.

By Monday I scarcely wanted to return to the world of technology. It had been so nice to focus on one thing at a time, take naps, and do activities that I knew were important, versus trapping myself into an endless cycle of reading internet articles and checking on the minutiae of other people’s lives. I’m tempted to make every weekend a computer-free weekend.