Category: Life as I know it

How not to advertise

by Allie P., posted in Design Tips, General Tips and Tricks, Life as I know it, Writing and Publishing Tips

On my way to work the other morning, I was stuck at a traffic light when I noticed a hand-made sign on the other side of the street. There are tons of these signs. Usually they advertise things like “Mattress Set – New! $550!” or “We buy ugly houses!” But the sign that morning was different.

Low cost dental

I would have taken a picture of it if I had been more awake that morning, but the light changed before I could fully process what it was I was seeing.

It was brightly colored paper with mismatched stick on letters and a hand written phone number advertising low-cost dental services.

To be fair, I don’t know anything at all about this company. The practice could have the best dentist in all of the US. He or she might be able to create filings that are the equivalent of the Mona Lisa in the world of dental arts. They may have intentionally decided to not to create a shinier ad as way of keeping their overhead costs low in order to offer patients the greatest possible savings.

Unfortunately for their practice, I, as well as several others who pass by that stop, likely will not be making an appointment any time soon. Why? Because a sign like that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. I’d rather save money by skipping a dental appointment altogether than have my teeth treated by anyone other than a professional.

As I’ve written before, the independent bookstore which has agreed to stock my book has a strict policy against carrying books produced by an Amazon company (i.e. CreateSpace). When I decided to change publishing companies I had to take their policy into consideration. I decided to try out Lulu which is a local, and highly rated, company for my on demand printing. For the most part their service is fairly straight forward. All you have to do is upload your manuscript and cover image, specify a few keywords and your price and Presto! You too can be a published author for the price of a proof copy and shipping.

Only it isn’t quite that simple. Some sort of black magic goes on behind the scenes as their servers manipulate your Word file into a file their printers can use (CreateSpace has a similar process. Smashword’s ‘Meatgrinder’ provides even more joy). You watch the status bar patiently… then not so patiently… Your family shouts from the other room, “are you coming to dinner?” You shout back, “Just a minute.” Ten more pass. You give up because your stomach is now growling and return later only to discover that your right page footer has been indented while your left page footer has not. You curse, make corrections, and hit the submit button again. The print ready interior that eventually spits out on the screen at you now has a random blank page between chapter 6 and 7.

Fifteen tries later, your interior is almost to your satisfaction, except there is an extra period on page 50 and, oh for the love of Pete, is that typo on page 217? Your children have celebrated another round of birthdays while you’ve been at your computer. You start telling yourself, it’s good enough. Your cover at least was done by a professional. No one is going to notice anything wrong with the interior.

Except that they do. The little things matter, especially when you are trying to grow a business.

My older sister visited not too long ago, and I showed her a rejected proof copy. I had rejected the copy because the cover wasn’t trimmed correctly, but that wasn’t what she noticed. Instead the first words out of her mouth were, “what’s up with the font?” I love that my family doesn’t hold back the truth when it matters.

I don’t want potential customers eyeballing my book on shelf to think of me (and my work) as anything less than professional. She forced me to return to my manuscript and start another round of submission roulette. Yay! I can only hope the hard work is just as eye-catching as its opposite.

Winter bites

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

When I began this blog, I decided early on that I wanted my site to be a positive one. I would feature stories on life lessons, motivation, and positive thinking in addition to the occasional piece on leadership or writing. Some weeks are easier than others.

Photo taken in walking distance from my day job in 2014 (only slightly doctored)
Photo taken a short distance from my day job in 2014 (only slightly doctored)

After a relatively mild winter, the recent wave of storms brought a layer of snow and ice to my hometown. Around here, we take the threat of winter weather extremely seriously. Almost everyone here has stories to tell about where they were stuck for six hours the time that winter precipitation fell faster than the value of a new car after it has driven off the lot.

My son was overjoyed when school was released early one day and cancelled altogether the next. “A snow day,” he shouted, punctuating his excitement by throwing every single toy he could touch on the floor as he ran about the house. His younger brother joined in with eager abandon. Soon the bridges and overpasses weren’t the only dangerous crossings I had to worry about.

I have a hard time stringing together a thought under these conditions, let alone put words to print.

The hubby turned on the news. We were both curious as to how long we might expect the snow (and this housebound ‘fun’) to last. The governor had declared a state of emergency. Record lows were forecast. Power lines were at risk of falling under the weight of the ice. This storm could be a killer. Other news stories around the world were featured; these stories featured mostly violence and hate.

The word “Warning” flashed red and yellow across the screen in big bright font. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. The text was replaced on the screen by a man in front of a fireplace surrounded by pristine white cots. He was a representative of one of our local shelters. It was a commercial, but not one selling product or asking for money. Instead the group was using the ad space to inform the public about the number of beds they had available, urging the community to send those without shelter his way.

I received an alert on my phone. It was a message from my neighborhood’s social media site. In it, a nearby resident was offering the use of his Land Rover (and its four-wheeled drive) to any in need of emergency transportation, all they had to do was call. A few people must have taken him up on his offer because the next several messages in the chain were of thanks.

There is a lot of terrible news out there. There are events outside of our control. There are stories that make you question your faith in the rest of humanity. There are hundreds of reasons to burrow deep into homes and into ourselves, but there is good worth sharing too. I would even argue these stories are even more worthy of sharing.

I am not blind, nor do I live in some happy world of denial. There is white stuff littering the ground outside (and did I mention it is cold), but I’ve chosen to keep my site a positive one. This means I bundle up and do my best to keep the fire burning. I refuse to succumb to the bite of winter no matter how very tempting it might be.

Stay warm.

If you have any similar stories you think are worth sharing, please feel free to comment below. Feel free to add a link to your own.

Be mine – you’ll thank me later

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
Nothing says I love you like an ultimatum (image from flickr)

Valentines Day is Saturday, just in case you had somehow avoided the seasonal section at the local drug store during the last few weeks. I wouldn’t blame you if you had. Most of the Valentines related merchandise at the store closest to me has already been marked down and moved to the discount rack to make room for Easter.

I had received a notice from my son’s teacher that all students were to bring in Valentines for the class along with a small treat. She was even kind enough to provide a list of names as well as a suggested schedule of how many we should create each night so as not to overwhelm our child. I don’t exactly know where I stand on this issue. Doesn’t the Valentine lose a bit of its sparkle when it is a) mandatory and b) generic? But then again, kiddo is only six. In his book, any assignment that results in candy is a good assignment.

Up until this time, we had made all of our cards for his friends at day care by hand. Some were finger paints. Some were water colors. Some were random pieces of paper glued together in a shape vaguely resembling a heart (why I am not on dozens of Pinterest boards is a mystery). Making individualized cards by hand is easy when there are only four other children at the center with a supervising adult (especially when most can’t read more than their name), but the list his teacher sent home this year contained over twenty names. Gah! Who has time for that?

To my darling boy, if you happen to come across mommy’s writing at some future date and see this post, know that we love you, and are so terribly, terribly proud of you, but watching you write sentences at this age can sometimes be like watching someone trying to go the wrong way on an escalator. You know the person is getting exercise, but it seems to take an unnecessarily long time to reach the destination.

I made the executive decision that we would be purchasing cards this year. All he would have to do is copy each friend’s name from the list on the card. He selected a box featuring several different Hot Wheel’s race car designs and got to work. I would read a name from the list as he scribbled away. As I read the name of one of his best friends, he turned the card over and looked at the image. “Oh, he is going to love this one!” he smiled. A few names later, he flipped the card over again. Only this time he frowned as he said, “she’s not going to like this card.”

Apparently, in my son’s opinion, if it isn’t pink, purple, or has Elsa on the back, the girls in his class just aren’t interested. However, I had no interest in picking up a second pack of cards. It is the thought that counts, right? I told him the girls would have to accept what he gave them. The message must have sunk in, because when the next girl’s name was read he announced proudly that “she was just going to have to get over it.”

Imagine then how guilty then I felt to read a piece in the Washington Post about how the mindset which allows a man to view women as conquests, rather than people, might actually develop in early childhood. In it, the author argues:

“We teach our boys that it’s up to them to be the aggressor, to make a move, to ask her out. We teach our girls to sit and wait and hope for someone to invite them to prom.

Media and pop culture messages tell boys that girls are desirable and weak and emotional. Conversely, they show girls that boys are aggressive and strong and, more often than not, in charge.”

Had I just taught my son that the girls in his class should feel grateful to receive anything at all from him rather than something that actually reflected their interest? That they should automatically enjoy whatever my son dished out because it was what he had picked? I may have to do some damage control.

Then again, what if there are girls in my son’s class who like cars over princesses? What if there are girls who don’t like pink? They might enjoy getting a card featuring a neon green hot rod with blue racing stripes. They might not have to “get over it.” They might actually like getting the card my son will be handing out. We just assumed they wouldn’t because they are five and six-year-old girls. I was mentally separating the genders. The article’s author is right. This practice has to stop for gender equality to take hold. I just wish it was as easy as drawing a heart on a hand made card.

It just goes to show you that Valentines Day is a dangerous holiday. Perhaps next year we’ll celebrate National Ferris Wheel Day instead.

 

We are in this together

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

One of the greatest benefits of entrepreneurship is the feeling of being completely in charge of your own destiny. You get to make the decisions. You are responsible for your business’ success. This feeling is great, as long as things go according to plan. But when have things ever gone according to plan? Employees might get stuck in traffic, or not show. Suppliers might go out of business leaving you scrambling to find an alternate. Customers might decide at the last minute that they would be better of going with the competition. Then, being in charge is stressful. It is up to you to make sure your company does what it promises it will do, delivers what and when it says it will.

Together we can do this
image from wikipedia

For that reason, I was okay when the hubby announced he was going to have to work late, hoping to close a deal more than two years in the making. We are a team. I would solo parent for the evening so that he could do what he had to do. It was no problem. Except for one thing. I had completely forgotten about it, and was then utterly mentally unprepared.

I collected the boys as I typically do. 6 has recently discovered Pixar’s Wall-E and decided that the balance of the car ride home was the perfect opportunity to hone his robot impression. He’s pretty good, but I feel he really nailed it on the second try. He certainly didn’t need the twenty something follow-up attempts. Why mess with perfection?

When I arrived at day care to pick up 3 (yes, 3 – we are finally out of the terrible twos!), I was informed that my son hadn’t been feeling like his chipper self that day. He was complaining of a tummy ache. My gut clenched up. I have a number of meetings with visitors in my office this week. Of course he would be coming down with something.

I saw the empty spot where my husband parks. Oh no. That was tonight?! Suddenly I felt very much alone.

6 decided he didn’t feel like bringing in his school things. 3 didn’t feel like eating. 6 insisted on playing with a loud helicopter toy next to the phone while I attempted to talk to their dad. 3 didn’t want to go upstairs for his bath, wear the pajamas I had picked out, or pretty much anything at all that he hadn’t first instigated (oh that’s right… we are in the trying threes).

The next morning, the hubby needed to sleep in. He hadn’t gotten home until well into the morning hours. I was going to be on my own… again. I rushed around the house trying to get both boys ready as quietly, but as quickly as possible. We are going to miss the bus! ¡Ándale! Mach Schnell! (English wasn’t getting through to my boys – I had to mix it up). Ugh, I thought, no time to pack a lunch for myself. I was going to be late. What a way to start my day…

As I frantically herded them through the door, 6 asked me, ‘Mom? Why are you so mad?’

The question stopped me in my tracks. Was I stressed? Absolutely. Did I need to be? Absolutely not. If I would have stopped focusing on all the reasons I should be stressed I might have noticed that 6 had helped pack his bag that morning. 3 had willingly worn everything I brought him and had tip-toed so as not to wake daddy. Both had helped put their dishes in the machine after breakfast. They were pitching in as they were able. They reminded me that while I might be the only parent awake, I wasn’t alone. We were in this together.

So what if I was a few minutes late, or didn’t have a packed lunch? We’d somehow survive, but I might never get this moment back.

The past and the future can be equally blinding. When you fixate on either, you risk failing to see what you need to do in the present. I stopped. I took a breath. I told my boys I wasn’t mad along with a thank you. They might think I was thanking them for their help, but I was really thanking them for the reminder to be mindful of the present. When I told them I loved them, they smiled and hugged me back. For that moment, it was enough.

mindfulness
image from flickr

 

Who wants some candy?

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

The hubby and I recently joined a new gym having accidentally forgotten to forget to go on the scale after Thanksgiving. As part of our enrollment we were given the opportunity to meet with a trainer for our free personal fitness assessment / training plan. These meetings are much like the mandatory ‘information sessions’ you are forced to attend whenever you take advantage of a resort/timeshare’s ‘free’ vacation weekend. At my day job we call these meetings “sales calls”. The only difference is the prospect is coming to you and not the other way around.

Knowing what I was getting ready to go into, I decided not to eat anything the day of my fitness assessment (because that extra pound was definitely going to make the world of difference in my BMI). Unfortunately, I am like the Incredible Hulk when I am hungry. You wouldn’t like me when I am hungry.

I arrived at my appointment armed with a basic guesstimate as to what my results would be, as my insurance premiums are directly tied to periodic health assessments. I knew I had put on a few pounds, but who hadn’t? It was the middle of the holiday season! Biff, my assigned trainer (okay that’s a fake name, but it fits), met me in the lobby and took me for a quick tour around the various implements of self-inflicted torture equipment. I then was asked to stand on something that looked like an old transporter from the original Star Trek (only with handles). LEDs flashed. Assessing… assessing… wow lady you are out of shape – I am sure glad Biff is here to help you out!

Hungry Allie no like smug Biff. Hungry Allie think transporter full of [censored]. Hungry Allie smash transporter.

From the 1978 The Incredible Hulk episode &quo...
I kept my shirt on, but you get the basic idea (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Later (when my blood sugar had returned to normal) I realized I had a problem. My next insurance assessment was in January and I had been borderline for higher premiums before Thanksgiving. So I did what any person would do in my situation. I dusted off my fitbit and my myfitnesspal login, declared an embargo on sugar (except in my coffee – because me before drinking my coffee is almost as bad as me when I am hungry), cut out gluten, and limited my daily carbs to 100g. DEFCON 4!

By the time my insurance assessment came I had passed on two birthday cakes, pizza, donuts, two non-birthday cakes, and a stack of cookies. (It’s now clear as to why I put on a few). I had gritted my teeth and gone to the gym instead. All the free goodies were tempting, but the desire to prove that judgmental transporter wrong was stronger (I don’t blame Biff. He is obviously paired with a cruel and defective piece of machinery).

Ultimately, I won this particular battle. (In your electronic face, transporter!) I may still borderline, but thanks to my hard work and sacrifice, I managed to stay in my insurance group. I earned my right to celebrate. During my victory lap, one of my colleagues congratulated me and offered me some candy from her stash.

I found myself hesitating. Why? My goal was achieved. I didn’t have to hold back from the sweets any longer. I wouldn’t be cheating on myself by enjoying a little snack, and yet I found that I almost didn’t want it. That first easy snack to cross my way just didn’t seem a worthy reflection of my effort.

Part of me didn’t want my goal to end. I had achieved what I set out to do, but I knew I could be so much better if I just kept working.

This image was selected as a picture of the we...
Small rewards add up (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had to then recognize that my ‘better’ didn’t have a deadline associated with it. It was a vision, but not a goal. Sure I have a number in mind, but no good plan to get there. I could keep doing what I had been doing, but that was a knee jerk response to an immediate problem. It isn’t a sustainable lifestyle change (at least not for me). I know I would eventually fail. Even worse, I would miss out on the small rewards I could have enjoyed along the way.

As most writers will tell you, there comes a point when you have to hit the submit button on your manuscript (or otherwise show your work to the world). Could you have written (or executed) it better? If your answer is “umm…maybe” and not a solid “yes,” move on and do so with the next one. I have my vision. It is time to set a new supporting goal and execute on it. I celebrated my small win.

Yes – I ate that chocolate (it really was the polite thing to do), and the next day I hit the gym again. When the next cake comes around, I will be ready. On to the next goal.