What is work?

Yeah, yeah- exerting force on an object to make it move from a—>b. I mean, what is meaningful work?

Work that pays? Work that creates collegiality? Work that changes the world? Work that delineates your status? Work that proves your competence?

So many freaking question marks. I expected it would be all of the above. Plus original, creative, and fun. But only as a bonus.

To really count of course you need a field. So that you can be at the top of it. And ideally a professional license of some sort. That, it turns out is my mother’s (and possibly many people’s) definition of a career. Probably the most jarring conversation of my 30′s happened with her, back before software, but after The Waiting Room when she said, in a matter of fact tone: “you will never have a career.” It wasn’t a problem for her. Just a fact. For me it felt like damnation.

Without a career I was either a failure or a dilettante. Or at least a hack.

So there it is. No career. Lots of stuff started, even a lot of it finished, but no fame or fortune and a big fat what’s next.

This:

What is this? In short I am shopping for a living. Ebay, yard sales, auctions, antique stores. I am finding an object that inspires me, then building something around it. I’ll be selling the collections as wholes. Mexican fiesta, yellow and blue makes green breakfast setting, pheasant dinner. Plus cowboys, poker night and scottie dogs. And so many mad men bar set ups I have lost the spirit for spirits.

I always thought work needed to be serious. Not frivolous. Buying things for a party, not serious. Having coordinated bar ware- not life changing. Setting an Abe lincoln decanter in front of an image of the gun that shot him- potentially disturbed, and most certainly not significant work. But incredibly fun. In fact right as I am typing this Leo said to me: “There is no possible way you are having fun doing woik.” That seems like confirmation enough that I can drop 4 or 5 of my high bar standards and have some fun for a while. We all seem to need to look at work a bit differently these days.

Let me know if you need a scottie dog needlepoint. I just may have some.

Do kids count?

Pretty much the universal response (mostly private and at least one public) to my last blog post has been to remind me of my (beautiful, precious, lovely, delectable…) sons. Yes they are all that. I love them.

I have never considered them a part of me though. They are part of my life. The biggest part most of the time, but not part of me. As my kids get older, advocate more for themselves and their interest, challenge the ways of the world, I connect more with them. I loved them as babies, kissing the tops of their heads, and toddlers, adorable croaky voices, but I love them most as people. People outside of me.

During one of my career interviews as we veered off on a tangent (shocking) I met with a woman who recommended the book “Nurture by Nature“, parenting based on Myers Briggs types. I will try it soonish. If any of you get to it first let me know.

Perhaps the next step which seems logical to me is where I lose you, because I see my kids as wholly separate from myself their successes are not my success. Of course I created them (with some notable help) and I am raising them (with much more help) but they are not “ventures.” When I take stock I credit them for much of my happiness, but none of my independent identity. That began before them and continues through them.

When you take stock do you include a happy marriage? Well adjusted kids?

What about the flip side? Are your kids struggles your struggles? Of course we take on their fight, they need us as advocates, but does it change your definition of success?

How intertwined are your homelife and your work life?

I don’t even want to go into my office.

Sometimes I think of the plants (probably dead) and the books (waiting to be read )and feel sad. Most of the time I just feel an antimagnetic repulsion. Some dense air pushing me away from Main street, towards coffee shops and cafes.

It was a place of calm and focus and then one day it has morphed into a place I can’t step foot in.

You know what this means?

A career change.

I spent an hour this morning at 156 Saint Paul street in the shell of the restaurant I built. I was meeting with the new owners to consult on colors, finishes, and table layouts. It was one of the first times I have been back there and felt joy. Earlier visits left me feeling dim. I never missed The Waiting Room, but being in the space as something else wasn’t pleasurable. This next incarnation, Verita, has a great shot at changing that track record.. I gave them a bit of money both to feel part of things, and because I think there is a much better than average shot that they will succeed here.

I sat with my friend Amy on the newly built benches, and we talked about our futures.

I told her that by whatever internal measures matter to me, I have never had a success. She quickly countered that The Waiting Room had been a success. When I told her it lost LOTS of money she said that hadn’t been her impression, and she has a deep background in the restaurant industry. But in fact it did. With no creative accounting it lost hundreds of thousands of dollars.

In fact I have been paying to work for over a decade.

If I had been a strictly stay at home mom my family would be in a different tax bracket.

I used to feel that part of the privilege of having money was being able to use it to create things, make jobs, build community, care about aesthetics over bottom lines. So I acted that way. I gave servers health care. I paid dishwashers a livable wage. I paid illustrators and musicians to make backgrounds for apps. I commission art for the walls of my restaurants and offices. I did business the way I wanted it done. Where everyone, except me, got paid well, and very little got left on the cutting room floor.

Two s corps and 5 llcs later I have very little to show for it.

The bar top from The Waiting Room has made it through 5 restaurants. So that held up.

I have 2 soon to be 3 apps in the app store. Used by tens of thousands of people. Sweet.

There are two nonprofits out there that are not fundamentally different from where they were when I started. Perhaps an email newsletter is still hitting people’s in boxes. I’m pretty sure I see it.

I still feel incredibly lucky that I don’t NEED to go out and get a job. I can live in a beautiful house, enjoy my kids, volunteer on a few boards and buy organic food. Thank you dad, the VT real estate market, and the Chinese Art Market. I live a life of privilege. I just had hopes that that privilege would benefit the world outside my property. I really believed that by now I would have built something.

I have friends that say that I quit on things too soon. Taking a cold look at things there is only one possible project that I quit on too soon. Most of them I probably shouldn’t have started.

So this is whats next. I’m sending myself to career school

I am going to talk to people that love their work. People that have built things, and people that maintain things that others have built. People that work 100 hours a week and people that work 10. I am going to talk to lots of other people as confused as I am. I am going to follow some people around at their jobs. I am going to look at products that are out there in the world and see how I would improve them.

Each week I cam going to schedule at least three of the following:

• an interview
• a job shadow
• examining a successful companies marketing campaign
• tweaking a product design or delivery
• running numbers on a business
• other stuff that I think of.

My work is learning more about work. And it should cost me less than the last decade. So that is good

One in three pregnancies end in miscarriage. I’m not sure if this includes early pregnancy losses, where the woman may not have even known she was pregnant. Whether it does or not the 1 in 3 stat makes miscarriage common.

We have two happy healthy boys. And now I have had my second (probably third) miscarriage.

Steve and I were not sure about having another one. Our life is wonderful. Why mess with that?

For a daughter? For a longer time in the age of magic? Because despite heady topper toppers, and inspired renovation projects Steve and I will never create anything more incredible than little people. Who grow quite quickly into big people. We decided to not decide. Which of course meant we would probably do it. And right away that double line on the test. Immediate happiness. Clear thrill. Those early days of pregnancy before you start thinking of getting the baby OUT. Before real sickness or exhaustion. Just the test, the due date calculator. The re-pregnancy test for the darker line (admit it people). Pulling out the tests to show the boys, showing them the new one, watching them figure out what it means. Explaining that this MAYBE means a baby. Which causes confusion in Leo, and a bit of relief in Oliver.

Then the loss.

This loss was physically hard, much harder than the first one which had the quick clinical D&C  and obviously emotionally draining. But it was made much much easier by my sons. One of whom responded to the news of my pregnancy with “but you can hardly handle two kids, why would you have a third?”

Why indeed?

We have replaced ourselves on the planet. We are done with day care. We are done with diapers and choking risks and wrestling kids into snowsuits. We are over the deep deep hatred of socks.  We can travel. We fit at a four top.

And now the choice again. Or the illusion of choice. We have learned that it is not really in our control.

I am old now. I am overweight still. Losing a pregnancy sucks. Having an infant can suck too. Sleep deprivation sucks.

Spent the morning in the kindergarten classroom for the author’s breakfast. Each tiny writer “read” aloud their stories with families cheating them on. With 8 boys and 3 girls in the class there were more snakes and dead dogs than princesses, weddings, and rainbows. I felt comfortable with the dogs, even the dead ones. An almost two year old staggered around in his corduroy paints offering everyone bites of bagel from his mouth. Leo giggled. “Do you like baby drool? That bagel comes with baby drool.”

Do I?

No. Not particularly.

I don’t know which part of it is giving me the most hesitation. Upsetting the balance of our life, the risk of an unhealthy baby, the risk of an unhealthy me, or dealing with another miscarriage. I don’t know. I really don’t like baby drool. But my almost 7 year old is utterly amazing.

How do we make a decision like this one?

I wrote this on January 18th. I never posted it. I haven’t written anything since. Perhaps posting this old thing will get me back on track.

Calendar Oddities:

I seem to have a brain blank about today being the 18th (this is where the disclaimer helps). To my grey matter tomorrow is the 18th, although my cell phone knows that today is the day.

Is it a problem that I trust my iPhone over me?

Driving into work I asked me why today shouldn’t be the 18th. I answered with the double illogic that is usually reserved for my dream state. “because even days should be on even days.” What? Well duh. “The 18th should be on a thursday, an EVEN day” (remember this post was written on Wednesday, to add a layer of confusion to the double illogic.)

Ya know:

M,W,F 1,3,5 = odd

Tu, Th  2,4 = even.

And what about the weekend? “Neither.” Those don’t have numbers.

What?

I have long known that I view the year like this:

The way I see the year

Where I am climbing an ever thinner ladder through the fall, then hopping a chasm and tumbling through linger and wider months until I hit summer which has no monthly differentiation. I guess that this started with school, and was reinforced by hours of light in the day. So that’s my year.

When I am making plans, or learning someone’s birthday the chute/ladder month will light up in my mental calendar. Unless you name a summer month and then I go a bit fuzzy. Sort of a dim low glow.

When I found out that Oliver’s school started in August it upset me.

So this month thing is old news. But even days are new.

Do any of you have calendar oddities? Or am I the oddest of all?

I temporarily misplaced my laptop charger sometime between Monday and Tuesday. I remained so convinced that I would find it that I didn’t replace it until this morning. This led to a very strange work week.

I suffered from cord envy

On instagram I came across a compelling image of a laptop, a sparkling glass of wine, and a beautiful bowl of clementines and all I could focus on was the tiny curl of tempting white cord. It looked so life giving and present. At meetings, while being complimented on my “new” iPad (not new, just not usually a meeting attendee) I instead wished myself to be one of those juggling messenger bags with cord placements, and scraping large restaurant tables away from hidden outlets. Ah, the outlet search. I was no longer a member of the juicing circuit. That iPad could hold its charge all day. No problem. Despite that perk.

I still can’t get behind the iPad as a work device.

Best toy ever? Yes.

Something I can use to monitor social media? Meh.

A tool to create spreadsheets, analyze real data, even write this blog post? No way.

To try to combat this problem I invested (time and or $) in even more “work like” apps. I already view and do minor edits on docs generated by Keynote, Pages, and Numbers. I added Dropbox, mindmeister, Blogsy, and Keynotopia. If anyone can tell me that I didn’t waste my money (or time) I would be thrilled to integrate your reasoning into my rationalization.

Public Service

During my Anna, Unplugged phase I also decided and undecided to run for office. I met with some town officials, attended a school budget meeting, printed out the necessary signature sheets, and picked the brains of a few friends behind much loftier political campaigns than my fantasy Shelburne Select Board campaign…what a freaking roller coaster. Pointing towards running was the 100% male conservative makeup of the select board, my desire to volunteer my time to improve Shelburne, and that lovely woman who stopped in the hall of the community school to tell me she enjoyed my points at a previous budget meetings and thought I should be on the select board. Pointing away from running was the short time left to campaign, the fact that I had just “tuned in” and couldn’t draw on a deep knowledge of how the board operated, and not wanting to alienate those conservative yes, but actually really lovely men on the board. Shelburne (and maybe many small towns) has a history of having uncontested races for select board seats. Does that make for the best representation, perhaps not, but it makes for the best town parades and picnics. So not going to run. Forgive me nice lady in the SCS hallway to whom I represented that I would run. I have changed my mind. Perhaps this ability to flip flop might be my highest qualification for office. Heres to 2013.

From Google Reader to actual Reader

Without the niggling pressure of the google reader and the 152 RSS feeds which I drown in subscribe to, I had to find something else to read. Actually, I found this something else because our great local mac store (from which I bought the laptop cord, to which I am now plugged in) doesn’t open until 10 am. Don’t they know that we need juice? Despite KNOWING that they didn’t open until 10 I spent from 9am-9:59 in their parking lot. Which is shared by a Barnes and Noble. Which I entered for the first time in years. Did you know they sell Legos there? And they have a Nook center. That cracked me up. Sort of a store within a store taking up prime real estate, and given a wide berth by shoppers. Anyways. I bought this book.

And you should too. Then we can talk about it. And start fixing the world.

During our 4 day road trip Steve and I had a chance to talk about a lot of things. One of them was about our evenings.

What had begun as a mindful disregard of what the kids were up to in order to encourage their independence had devolved into a chaotic mess.

In short, we had no evening, routine and we were all paying the price. Legos: everywhere. Table: cleared but not CLEAN. Homework: potentially done, but probably not in backpacks. Teeth: brushed in a rush. Books: squeezed in to one kids with the other hopping around on one foot trying to pull up his pjs whining “wait” “Wait” “WAIT”. Contributions: largely ignored until the weekend. Yes, the kids were master of their destiny, but their destiny was getting all over our floor.  And it hurt to step on.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but for a while we really were stumped about what to do.

If only someone had created a family friendly app where you could set a routine, and then make everyone accountable.

Right.

So we built a marble jar. And on day three I will tell you things are  great. I broke my own main rule and Steve and I set the thing up without the boys. I plead the “they were being quiet in the car and in 18 hours this was our first peace” argument. Ideally the whole family agrees to the actions together.

If you could scroll down you would see 5 mins general tidy

We added four marbles for the actions that we all needed to take, like clear the table, and 2 for the boys schoolwork, and one for group tasks such as washing the dishes. Each night we fill the jar, and if it is before 7:30 we get free time. Which for the past three nights has been used to watch “performances” where my son who is tone deaf goes on for 17 minutes and my son who can carry a tune goes on for 17 seconds.

The next night we copy the jar and are ready to go again. I wish I had taken a picture of the desk area before night one of the 3 night general tidy. Here it is post night 2: 

Just imagine each and every one of those legos on that rug. Ouch. After three day and 30 minutes a day we also have clean bathrooms,2 folded (and mostly put away) loads of laundry thanks to Oliver, Stainless polished appliances, and nothing at all on the floor of the main level of our house.

But you should see upstairs.

We have also had a great time doing “school stuff” where Oliver does his homework and Leo practices writing. Although it is worksheet central it feels good to have a dedicated time. Despite not creating the list the boys are IN. They like to set the timers, and cheer each other on. During the group cleaning period the first day Leo sat on a bench and opted not to clean. We were a little stumped so we asked the boys how to keep it fair. They decided that not participating during group clean meant that that person had to do double the time cleaning alone when the jar was all full except that one marble. That has worked so far.

Like every tool the marble jar app has come in and out of favor in our household…but there is no questions it is helping us practice a better evening routine, work together, and celebrate each other’s accomplishments.

Upon reflection maybe the “10 Mins School Stuff ” action should have 3 possible marbles not 2.

Have you ever imagined your own version of MLK Jrs”I Have A Dream” Speech? What would you risk your life for? Raise your fist and PROCLAIM?

If you are like me, then not too much. His radical faith* may have changed our country for the better forever, but it also ended his life.

I am not that brave.

I can’t imagine taking a bullet for a world view.

I CAN however, spend time and money investing in what matters to me. For several years our family has been eating locally. Our freezer is full of local squash puree, our bread drawer stocked with local flax-y bread. Our chickens have strolled through more acerage than our suburban home sits on. When I go to the grocery store I am a democratic consumer. I put my money where my values are.

What about companies that are doing business with values that mirror mine, but happen to be located in the Midwest. Should I never support them if there is a local option? What if there isn’T? Our family still buys orange juice, avocados, coffee, and sugar (although we have switched lately to maple sugar and that is NOT a scarafice.)

Nicole Ravlin from PMG introduced me to Janice from True Body less than a month ago and we have  formed a partnership which you can read about in today’s edition of the Burlington Free Press.

What are we trying to do here? We are building a platform that allows growing, local valued business to have their customers fund their inventory.  Why is this necessary? It turns out in the world of consumer packaged goods, a certain level of success leads to failure.

Imagine working away in your kitchen making “Bay Bites” teething biscuits. With you, your stove and your friends you have been plugging away producing natural, effective and beautifully packaged biscuits for discriminating moms. Next step, your local co op. This is great. A few extra bake days, scaling up is working. Now Whole Food wants you. This is the exact pick up you have been waiting for. Your community is forward minded enough to have a community kitchen, the ingredients, kitchen rental, and crew comes to $20,000. You scrape together the money from friends and family. You make the money back and then some… three to six months later. Whole foods quadruples its Baby Bites order on week two. Uh oh. The CSE platform allows the teething biscuits that are on the shelf now at whole foods to help fund this next inventory production.

Customers buy through the CSE mobile app or website and the money lands directly in your pay pal account. Susie, a CSE shopper, received a push notification through her phone that Baby Bites is a CSE product. She paid through the phone, added the biscuit to her cart, and used her mobile coupon at check out all during her normal weekly shop. This was not a deal for her, she purchased full the biscuit at full price, because she is a democratic consumer, and uses her normal shopping routine to support companies that she believes in.  She chose Baby Bites because it is a CSE company and has been vetted on a 20 point checklist ranging from employee practices, to production emissions, to whether or not you carry liability insurance. Susie  can’t always shop at her local farmers market.

I don’t always vote with my wallet. I buy candles from China at Homegoods, and  mass-produced note cards (which generally stay in my drawer since I seem to have a phobia of the post office.) I know how it is. But if we make it pretty easy to buy a great candle at Healthy living in Vermont maybe I will. That candle company may be from California, but those candles have already been shipped here, and the CSErtification lets me know that their company values align with my personal ones.

This CSE coupon for product effort is the first step to allowing community members to truly invest in companies that they believe in. Legislation is changing that will allow up to $10,000 worth of individual investment in companies that are not yet registered with the SEC. It is our goal to sell stock as well as soap.

It will take a change in our purchasing patterns. But not a huge one. It reminds me of the “What color is your parachute?” career change advice. You have a job in a field. You can do the same job in a new field or stay in the same field and do a new job, but it is pretty much impossible to change both. If we imagine America as a land of indiscriminate shoppers…we can’t just jump to being democratic producers. We could be indiscriminate producers…or with CSE and other simple changes we could become democratize consumers. Or at least I can.

So that is my dream. A nation of democratic consumers. I won’t take a bullet for it. But I will build it a website.

Going to skip tales of road trip, family visit, incredible Toronto Design center, and all work related things. Must seek commiseration for one particular experience.

Anyone?

If you had asked me what would cause a 6 year old boy GREAT JOY and his mother (who was already sporting a headache and dealing with his younger exhausted brother) GREAT PAIN…

I would have guessed:

star wars, anything animated, or active, a “show” where he “performs” acts using the treadmill as a stage and seems to have hired the same team that edits the last few sketches for Saturday night live,  an 11pm bedtime…

You get my point. The list would be long and varied. Pretty much anything can excite Oliver, and in my state pretty much anything would have been miserable.

On the plus side:

Horses, knights, eating with our hands.

On the minus side:

Acoustics, being herded like cattle through 500 people, the fact that they apparently had pepsi in medieval times, but not vegetables, the add on costs of every freaking thing, getting poked in the eyes with flags, how easily flags can be used as swords when inspired by knights, fog machines, freezing rain (although that isn’t the fault of the show…), the fact that we will have to go again.

Pretty much even, right?

I'm doing a pretty good job pretending I don't despise this, right? Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and all.