My world

Random thoughts from my day that I wanted to tweet but I haven't found an app for my new(ish) phone. I have to be content with sharing my thoughts only with myself. Gasp.

Today ended a relatively long period of time during which I have not fallen or otherwise injured myself. I fell UP some stairs in a very public place and a young man who looks like the blond kid on Glee -you know, the new cast member - paused while talking on his cell phone to ask if I was OK. Oh, I was fine. Just FINE, thank you very much. I felt very old and I need Advil.

I guess really it hasn't been all that long since I injured myself. There was the incident where the hot gooey stuff on a Panera cinnamon crunch bagel jumped onto my thumb like a tick and burned a hole at the base of the nail. That's one way to get rid of those annoying cuticles. But I haven't actually FALLEN in quite a while, which for me is nothing short of miraculous. I don't remember being particularly clumsy as a child. It's definitely an acquired talent.

Lately on the way to work I've been driving around construction crews doing mysterious things. Today all was revealed. They have installed beautifully executed wheelchair ramps at the curb of every corner near Penn and I-40. They are quite something to behold, these ramps. Except that they lead straight into the soggy grass - ramps to nowhere. There are no sidewalks. I certainly hope that they are connected very soon by sidewalks, otherwise it will have been a monumental waste of time and money. Did the city get stimulus money specifically to make curbs wheelchair accessible? Weird. At least now the panhandlers can pull their shopping carts or bicycles or wheelchairs closer to the traffic. I'm not being insensitive about the wheelchair thing. They clearly do NOT need wheelchairs. Seriously people, stop giving them money.

I've had bouts of giddiness the last couple of days. I think it has to do with the cold weather and the Christmas music I'm playing in my car. It just clears the head and makes one sort of stupid happy. Truthfully I'm not a big fan of the actual holidays, but I do love the atmosphere and the days leading up to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I think it has something to do with unrealistic expectations. Everything is supposed to look and feel and smell like perfection, right? Wrong. Life isn't quite that clean and neat and free from drama. I need to approach the holidays fully expecting messiness and fussiness and a predictably unpredictable amount of non-cooperation and imperfection. Then I'll be pleasantly surprised if it turns out well. I should be Danish.

Tomorrow I say good-bye to all my new friends at United Way who now feel like old friends. So I'm off to bed early in order to be fresh for the very early morning celebration breakfast.

Poke U

Go Pokes! Great game on Saturday. At least that was the general consensus. Football in any form makes my eyes roll back in my head. I used to try to be attentive - act like I care. But no. I really just don't.

The good thing about Saturday's game was that I was there in person, so the eyes stayed mainly in their sockets. I know when one of the dudes in orange appears to be running at high speed towards one of the goal posts that it's a good thing and I can cheer him on with the best of them. I know that when the old dude in the stripey pajamas puts his hands straight above his head it's a good thing. That would be a touch down and that is good news. Otherwise, I have a hard time following the ball or the game. My sister was a cheerleader one year in high school and I remember trying gamely to learn the rules. Something about first and down or fourth and down. I don't think they can go past four downs before they have to either get the stripey pajama guy to do his thing or politely give the ball to the other guys in the weird pants and Arnold Schwarzenegger shoulders.

It was a good occasion for hanging out with family though.

It was Dad's Day but we all butted in and went anyway. As my sister Shari said, "I didn't know cuteness was so important at these things." Probably because we were hanging out with the sorority bunch...or the pretty girls from the flag corp.

OSU Cousins! Do they not look like they could be sisters? I guess if their mothers are identical twins then genetically they are half sisters right? Anyone?

So other than hanging out with the beautiful people, I've just been working away saving the world one dollar at a time. The gig with United Way is going well. We mercifully finished training, have been assigned our sectors and accounts, and are busy raising those dollars. I've been assigned the entire education sector, which means I'm covering all the large school districts in the city and many of the small ones. Which is cool. Except teachers don't really get paid much here in Oklahoma and what they do get paid they spend on their students. So let's just say I'm glad I don't get paid on commission. Don't get me wrong - educators are some of the most generous people I know. But you can only squeeze a dollar so tightly before it squirts out its last penny. I'm just sayin'.

In other news, I entered a writing contest and... well, I guess that's all the other news. I should get the results in about six weeks, at which point I will have forgotten all about it.

Hope you have a great week! Hugs to all!!

The rest of the story

Let me introduce you to the children I spoke of in my last post. The ones who got off the bus just in time to witness the scuffle and cuffing of a homeless dude? Turns out those children are homeless as well. As Paul Harvey taught us, there's almost always "the rest of the story".

Yesterday I started the three month job with United Way as a Loaned Executive. We train for a week and yesterday was the first of those training days. The entire afternoon was spent riding around on a big bus and touring some of the nonprofits that are Partner Agencies and receive funds from the United Way. I thought I knew about most of the nonprofits in this city. It's sort of my thing. But no. I do not know about ALL of the nonprofits in this city. Did you know there is an elder shelter here? Did you know we needed a shelter for elderly folks fleeing abuse or neglect or who have simply been abandoned? A fragile and vulnerable senior would not survive in a typical homeless shelter, so Sunbeam Services operates a nice shelter in a home environment. They only have room for nine, and they stay pretty full.

One gentleman told us his story. While he was in the hospital for surgery (he had throat cancer) his family divided up his stuff, took all his money, and left him for dead. With nowhere to go after the surgery, he came to the elder shelter where they supported him through radiation treatment and recovery until he was able to get out on his own. He's now a dedicated volunteer and considers the Sunbeam family his family.

Then there's the woman who was abandoned by her husband. Former missionaries, they had no assets, no money, no home. Her husband apparently just drove off and left her stranded. Who does that?

Anyway, back to those kids at the library. They are from a school called Positive Tomorrows. We toured their facility and I was like, wait a minute. This name sounds really familiar. That was the name on the bus at the library. Positive Tomorrows is a school for homeless children. Here's what their website says:

Positive Tomorrows is a private, tuition-free school for homeless children,
kindergarten through 5th grade. Our students face significant academic and
social delays due to missing school and chaotic living conditions–such as living
in shelters, on the streets or bouncing from couch to couch. It’s our goal to
bring them up to speed socially and academically so that when they transition
into public school, they will be successful throughout their years in school as
well as life. When we empower them through their education, they begin to see
life outside of poverty and homelessness. Positive Tomorrows is their Sanctuary
of Hope.

And remember that I was complaining that our city needs a place for homeless folks to go during the day (other than the library) - a place where they can receive actual services and helpful support and information? Another place we toured yesterday was the office of the Homeless Alliance. They are this very moment building a day center that will house numerous agencies and support services. It will be a place where homeless folks can go during the day (they must leave the shelters for the daytime hours) to get the services they need, get out of the heat or cold, etc. How cool is that!

I just thought it was interesting how the experience and questions from a few days ago wrapped around to meet the experiences of yesterday. I have to say I was impressed by every place we visited. Good job, Oklahoma City!!

Is it stealing if it was put out for the trash?

Good morning from the closet office. So I have a question. I wanted a new chair, or at least a more comfortable chair, for my closet office. Right now my desk is at standing height, which is nice when my back is screaming at me to get up and unkink. I have to use a bar stool to sit at the desk, which is OK, except my feet dangle about six inches from the floor and that's not very comfortable. So I was thinking of lowering the desktop to normal sitting height and getting a comfortable chair. Except...there's that unemployed, counting our pennies thing. So I really can't buy the Herman Miller chair I want.

This is not the Herman Miller chair I had in mind!

And neither is this one, but love the ingenuity! (Photos and designs from Eames Hack)

Here's the question. Is it OK to take stuff that your neighbor has put out for the trash? Because one of my neighbors had a Herman Miller knock-off desk chair on his lawn next to his trashcan this morning. I say "had" because it is now in my garage. It was on the grass! Next to the trashcan! You can't tell me he accidentally left it out there when he was ... doing what? What do you do while sitting in a desk chair by the curb next to your trash can? It must have been intended for the trash, right?

So why did I feel so guilty while hauling it the length of a couple of houses after my morning walk? It's not like I took it out of his garage!


Anyway, my barely breathed prayer for a new chair was answered this morning. Now I just have to lower my desk top and put the bar stool back at the breakfast bar where it belongs. Unless you think I should take the chair back and confess.


Today I'm trying to plan out the final week of my unintentional sabbatical. I'm starting a three month gig with United Way next week as a loaned executive for their annual giving campaign. Only, obviously, I'm not loaned from any company like most of the loaned executives. Fortunately they have a plan for those of us who are more like freelancers. I'm looking forward to it!


But that makes this week the final week of what has turned into a two month time of evaluating my life's work, resting, reading, doing sprint remodels on a few rooms in the house, and annoying the holy heck out of my self-employed husband. I can't be bothering him too much though, since he has been out of town working with clients a lot recently.


Wait a minute! Hold the phone! I get it now. Fine mister. You just go off to California and Maryland and Texas. I'll still be here when you get back. And I'm working on a to-do list in my head right now. You can run, but you can't hide!


Just kidding about the to-do list. Yes, I am tormented by an eternal to-do list in my head, like a revolving credit account. When you get one thing checked off that just makes room for another entry. But I typically take care of the things on my own list and leave Mark out of it. Typically. But not always. Love you sweetie! *blows kisses*


Today the list in my head is long, but full of delightful things. Maybe they are delightful because I don't have to do a single one of them. Luxurious!

Weeds

I was planning to go to Stillwater to help out in the kitchen at Tessa's sorority today. It's rush week and somebody has to fill those water glasses!! But apparently they don't need me until tomorrow, so I have an unexpected free day. So then I was planning to sleep in until a luxurious hour but was rudely awakened by men unloading sheeting for a neighbors new roof. One (boom) sheet of plywood (boom) at a time (boom) dropping from the (boom) high bed of the (boom) truck to the (boom) ground for thirty (boom-freaking) minutes. So much for being decadent. Guess I'll go weed the frighteningly weedy flower bed.

Lessons on Leadership and Life Learned While Weeding the Flower bed.

Did I lose you already with that title? Hang on. It'll be fun. Have I ever bored you before? Don't answer that. I'm feeling a little thin-skinned these days.

Annnyyway, here's my list, because the brain has to do something while yanking weeds.

1) Don't wait until the heat is on

Weeding is fun until the sun jumps over the neighbor's house and leers down in all her searing glory. Just a minute ago I was noting the soft breeze and the lack of sweat and feeling all holier-than-thou about being up so early and channeling Martha Stewart when BOOM. The sun is up and the sweat is on.

The LLLL? (Lessons on Leadership and Life Learned...gotta love alliteration!)
The moment you become conscious of the fact you just patted yourself on the back for being such an awesome manager/parent/person, slather on the sunscreen because the heat is on even though you don't yet feel the burn. That's not being glass-is-half-empty. That's being realistic. To avoid the sweat, take the time while it's cool and calm to proactively pull the weeds. Start early. Or better yet, mulch to avoid the weeds in the first place. Start the day doing the big picture stuff. Then when the sun comes up you'll be safely in the shade drinking your mimosa. Stephen Covey's 7 Habits never go out of style. The first three habits apply here.

Habit 1: Be Proactive
Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind
Habit 3: Put First Things First


Also read: Julie Morgenstern's "Never Check Email in the Morning".

2) Don't let the dogs out

I'm trying to weed and meditate but Winnie keeps nudging my arm, begging for attention. She's needy this week since we are taking care of the grand-puppy. God forbid four adults should divide our attention between (gasp) two dogs. While not being needy, the dogs are barking at cats, real or imagined. Since I'm weeding under the in-laws bedroom window, I'm trying to shush the dogs with a commanding whisper. Every parent has mastered the whithering look and commanding whisper. Turns out neither is helpful when dealing with dogs. When they aren't barking or pooping, they are walking through the flowerbed. Why did I let the dogs out?

The LLLL?
Who are the dogs that keep me from doing my thing? Who or, more likely, what is distracting, needy, sabotaging, attention-diverting? Where or when do I waste my time shoveling the s*&t when I could be fertilizing?

See:
"Married to Distraction: Restoring Intimacy and Strengthening Your Marriage in an Age of Interruption"

"Defeating the 8 Demons of Distraction: Proven Strategies to Increase Productivity and Decrease Stress"

3) "Don't sweat the small stuff" is not always a good plan

The sun is up, it's hot, the dogs are needy, I clearly am running out of steam. So what's the plan? I think I'll just try to pull the biggest weeds to make the most obvious difference. I can't see the garden for the trees. No really. Those annoying starter trees that grow from little seed pods blown by the Oklahoma wind? Everywhere. But I am apparently constitutionally unable to pull the big stuff and ignore the smaller weeds choking the flowers. I want for at least a small portion of the garden to be weed free and beautiful. My mantra "just pull the big ones, just pull the big ones" is not working. I HAVE to go back and pull ALL the weeds in that section before moving on.

The LLLL?
Sometimes it's OK to focus on the minutia at the (temporary) expense of the big picture. Some wise person once said it's better to do a few things well than a bunch of stuff half-assed. Err, something like that. In a perfect world we would have time to do all things well. But this is definitely an imperfect world. And "things" have multiplied exponentially. So I'm thinking I'm gonna have to narrow it down, pick a few, focus. And what about those towering distractions? They'll die off on their own, I suppose. Even if I have to ignore them until the first frost.

Yawn...

Did you happen to see the above definition on The Pioneer Woman's blog? I've always liked that word. Ahn-wee. When I read it I realized - that's what it is! That's the feeling that has overpowered me in the last few weeks - which were, of course, the first few weeks of unemployment. It's that feeling of meh, whatever, not really interested. It's episodes of staring into space for long periods of time. A general malaise. A fog. Listlessness. Languor. I suppose it could be the searing July heat. Or possibly the muscle relaxers my doctor prescribed for the relentless back pain. Ohhhh, now I get it!

I mean, it's not like I'm just sitting on my couch picking stray dog hairs off my stretchy pants all day long. I've been sending out those resumes and even had an interview. I've volunteered with my sister on behalf of the nonprofit we formed together. This summer we are providing recreation at the WINGS summer camp for young adults with developmental disabilities. Those young folks can really get their dance on!

I've created and tweaked a few websites. I've actually been to the gym. The living room has been repainted. I've waited on hold with the unemployment office for hours and given my medical history in great detail to the insurance company so we can get some coverage after mine goes away at the end of the month. I've harvested veggies from my first-time-I-ever-planted-one garden. I've sorted through digital photos I'd forgotten I had. Remember this?

That's son-in-law Riley using his Okie ice scraper. Put down the credit card and go find a real ice scraper!!

OK, after reading the above I guess I'm feeling a little better about the things that have occupied the last few weeks. Hopefully the malaise will lift and meaningful employment will come in good time. But right now I think I'll go take a nap because I CAN!

This could be a very good thing. Or this could suck big time.

Hello my BFFs. After a couple of months of craziness at work, dealing with funding cuts and budget cuts, I find myself suddenly and unexpectedly unemployed. So I'm all yours, my Internet buddies. We'll spend leisurely afternoons exploring scintillating topics. What? You have a job? Oh yeah - that thing I had yesterday.

I'm hoping the pain in my back and the stiffness between my shoulder blades and the irritable bowel eases now. I've been trying to figure out how to lessen the stress. Remember how I talked about needing a sabbatical? Handed to me on a platter.

Suddenly the long list of things I wanted to do has shortened to don't cry, don't cry and don't cry. Oh, and don't wallow in self pity. I'm sure in a day or two the other things on that list will come back to populate my stunned brain. But for today, my major task is to read all the magazines that have piled up on the table beside my bed, and to alternate between heat and ice packs to soothe the back. If only there was an icepack to soothe the bruised ego.

Monday's Suck

Oh the pain of returning to work after five glorious days off. Five whole days during which there was not one episode of panic, anger, or that anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. There was only sunshine, peace, yard work, cooking with the spring-breaking college daughter, a trip to Home Depot and the movies with the spring-breaking teacher daughter, coffee with my sister. A glorious, glorious lack of responsibility, obligations, and other annoying stuff. And even a snow storm to force us inside to entertain ourselves with baking and movies and napping. Cable Movies on Demand is a great invention.

Now it's back to business. Not only is today a full day at the office, but I somehow managed to agree to teach a university course for a month of Monday nights without checking the "Dancing With The Stars" schedule. What was I thinking? Hopefully there will be episodes on Hulu. Hulu is a great invention.

Happy Monday. And by happy Monday I mean Monday's suck. Too bad the odds of winning Power Ball are so ridiculous or I'd be hoping for some big money pay out to come rescue me. Of course, I'd have to actually buy a Power Ball ticket, which I think is a huge waste of money. Anyway, I guess I'm gonna have to rescue myself if I want to be rescued from the daily grind. There's got to be a way to work from home!

Hope you didn't come here for a cheerful dose of happiness. You should know me better than that! Check back in with me in a few hours and I will have successfully transitioned back into the real world and be less of a Debbie Downer. Plus I will have had a cup of coffee.

Stop this train

Just when we thought we slid by cold and flu season without getting noticed, Mark brought home something nasty. I was working out of town for three days at the end of last week, so I missed the worst of the groaning, moaning and near death experiences that are part of the male species' DNA when it comes to illness. I also apparently missed the same bug going around my office. So I'm thinking of taking myself to the spare bedroom and not coming out until June.

Speaking of going into a room and not coming out, I have decided I need a sabbatical. A hiatus. A period of rest. Academics do it - take a year or a semester off to rest, write a book, study abroad, regroup. The sabbatical year is not a new thought. Among the ancient Jews, during the seventh year the land and vineyards were to remain fallow. Really, I don't want to curl up in the fetal position. I have plenty of creative ideas in my head. I just don't have the energy, the margin, to do any of them and keep up with my income-producing day job. There needs to be a foundation that gives grants equal to one's annual salary to women who need a year to remain fallow. I'm ready for that year.

Pardon the change in metaphors, but where do I get off this train?


"Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train" John Mayer

Photos from Steven Brisson on Flickr

The Road to Austin

Austin here I come. The only place I've been in Texas is the Dallas/Ft.Worth area. Oh, and Amarillo on my way west. Oh, and Galveston briefly before getting on a cruise to celebrate our 25th anniversary. But I hear Austin is a great place to visit. I'm thinking, though, that this weekend may not have been the best choice. There's a huge winter storm headed that direction.

I planned this trip for work, and invited Mark to come along. We extended the visit by a day so we could hang out and explore the city. We may be exploring everything indoors. I mean like restaurants and shopping, people.

Weather has been a constant topic of conversation lately. What are we? Old? Only old people talk endlessly about weather and politics and the price of gas, right? What was it we talked about when we were young? I don't remember.

Mark is the Trip-Miester, planning even trips to the grocery store in great detail. Well, maybe not the grocery store. That's where he goes on auto-pilot and works the isles in exact order, neatly stacking the familiar brands in his basket in a specific order that I'm not privy to. He has a plan and a pace and I'm welcome only if I can keep up and don't drift.

Anyway - he already has explored Austin on Mapquest, plotting out points of interest and importance. He's printed out all the boarding passes and checked the weather. Now he's looking for the umbrella. I'm pretty sure he was a tour guide in a previous life. I just get to relax and follow the man with the umbrella who is leading the way.

Women At Work - Third Times A Charm

I have to say, one of the best things about having grown children and a somewhat empty nest is that my husband and I don’t have to sort out who will be taking care of our children while we work. With 58 percent of children under six having all parents in the workforce, it’s a problem common to many.

My husband learned very early to fend for himself. He’s an ironing fanatic. I buy wash-and-wear. In his dream home there would be a room just for ironing, where an expensive iron awaits, maybe on a timer. If he could awake to the smell of coffee brewing and the click, click of an iron warming up he would be a happier man.

So, early in our marriage he learned I would not be making him breakfast or ironing his clothes before work. When our children were born, he jumped in with diaper changes, bathing the babies and although he didn’t have the “equipment” for midnight feedings, he was very active in their care. I almost wrote that he was a great helper, but we agreed long ago it wasn’t about one of us parenting and the other “helping”. We were in it as partners. Although one partner was way better at color coordinating outfits and finding tiny matching pink socks and putting bows in the hair. But hey. Is it really life altering if your child shows up at daycare with her little dress on backwards?

So when it came to juggling child care while my husband and I both worked, it was an equal-opportunity challenge. I wanted to be the one caring for my baby though. I wanted to not have to wake her up on a cold morning, bundle her sleepy sweetness into a car seat and hand her off to someone else. I wanted to be sure she was safe, teach her to play peek-a-boo, watch her learn to turn herself over, teach her to read, help her make cupcakes for school, take her to gymnastics, pick her up after play practice, take her to volleyball, shop for a prom dress, help her with her graduation speech, know her friends from school and connect with her friends parents. I delegate all kinds of things at work. I didn’t want to delegate parenting.

Through our child-raising years, we juggled life, work and parenting so that the girls were always a priority. Sometimes I worked from home. There was a tiny and glorious window of time where I didn’t work at all. Sometimes we traded off taking our vacation weeks. Here’s a parenting math problem for you. Two parents plus 10 vacation days each equals how many weeks of summer vacation? That would eight weeks of someone at home with your children if you split each vacation day in half. See how that works? The pre-teen children sleep the first half of the day anyway! I’ve worked early and my husband worked late so that one of us could be there at either end of the school day. You name it, we’ve probably done it to care for our children.

I wish I could say my children never let themselves into an empty house after school. I wish I could say my children never had to call me at work. The day Mr. Mooberry let Tessa call me at work doesn’t count. She had that man wrapped around her little third-grade finger. Seriously. What teacher lets a child call her mom because she’s worried the dog will be frightened by a thunderstorm?

Plenty of moms seemingly successfully balance work and raising children. Mona Sutphen, White House Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy, was recently featured in Working Mother magazine.

“Described by colleagues as smart, focused and disciplined, Mona has witnessed the toll Washington jobs can take on the lives of people with families. She’s known staffers who didn’t know how to stop working. ‘They thought they were so essential that they couldn’t leave the office. There was always something else to do, and it overtook their lives,’ she says. ‘There are times you have to be at the office, and there are also times when you don’t really have to be there, though it would be better if you were. Now that I have a family and a little more experience in work settings, I have more confidence that I can cover what I need to accomplish and I can make the trade-off.’”

Ms. Sutphen goes days without seeing her children awake. Her husband works long hours as well. Their solution for child care is an au pair, who lives with them and cares for the children while mom and dad work very demanding jobs.

This is where I get really cranky. The story about Ms. Sutphen was under the category of “Real Mom Stories” on the online site for Working Mother. While it is marvelous that accomplished, experienced and well educated women have the opportunity to work in important jobs and serve as role models to girls everywhere, this story is not about your average mom.

Your average mom does not have the money to hire an au pair, much less house one in her three bedroom, two bath ranch-style home in suburban USA. Many parents are going it alone, without a partner. In female-head-of-household families where there are children below school age, 54% of those families have an annual income that falls below the federal poverty level. Fifty-four percent!

Middle class or working poor –women have their own “Real Mom Stories”. Their stories are way less glamorous and they certainly do not include an au pair. The reality is, aside from a very small minority, all of us moms care about what happens to our kids. We just hope that each day will be a better day and we can work it out.

Again, I’ve written something that has no obvious conclusion. I have to go to work, though thankfully my seemingly well-adjusted children are grown and can feed and house themselves and I no longer have to worry if I’ll get home in time to pick them up from school. There may soon come a day where we have to sort out elder-care issues in our household. But for today, I’m thankful to be on the other side of that one life challenge.

Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/galefraney/

Women At Work - Same Song, Second Verse

Remember Lilly Ledbetter? At age 41 she took a job as a manager at Goodyear Tire and Rubber and worked there until her retirement 20 years later. When she retired she was the only woman in her position – the rest being men, of course. Near the close of her tenure someone slipped her an anonymous note telling her she was making significantly less in salary than her male counterparts. Ms. Ledbetter took the company to court, where a jury found in her favor.

The facts were pretty clear – the only factor differentiating her and her fellow managers was her gender. Here’s the kicker though. Goodyear appealed and the U.S. Supreme court ruled in their favor. Apparently, according to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Ms. Ledbetter was required to file a claim no less than 180 days after the first time she experienced discrimination. Um, really? Let’s review. She did not know about the discrimination for 20 years. The company kept salaries a closely guarded secret. There was no way for her to know how her salary or annual raises compared to her co-workers until that anonymous note 20 years later. There is now a new law, the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, which resets the 180 day statute of limitations with each new discriminatory paycheck.

Think this was an isolated case? Maybe it was more egregious than most, but yes, boys and girls, there is still a significant wage gap between men and women in the wonderful world of work. In the last census, records show that the median income for men was $38,000, and the median income for women was $26,000. If I wasn’t so math-phobic I’d take the time to figure out what percentage difference that is. It’s significant, I can tell you that much. In management-related professional positions, where 51% of workers are women, the median income is $63,000 for men and $42,000 for women. Ouch!

Ms. Ledbetter’s case brings up an interesting point regarding equal pay – the total wage gap between men and women over a lifetime of work. She was estimated to have lost over $400,000 in wages due to the difference in pay. Today, the average wage gap for women in Oklahoma over a lifetime is $387,000 for high school graduates and $601,000 for college graduates. I guess the good news is that Oklahoma has a smaller wage gap than many other states.

Women are more likely to work part-time or take extended periods of time away from work to care for children or other family members. The census numbers are supposed to be adjusted for that fact, but it’s inevitably another reason why wages differ. Here’s one that will chap your hide. Men with children earn 2% more than men without children. Women with children earn 2.5% less than women with children.

It’s a wacky world of work out there! Like many Generation Jones women my age, I could be the poster child for the seasons of women at work. During college I interned with IBM, which was a really big deal in the early eighties. At that time the successful, quickly advancing women in the office were mainly single. The few who had children and a husband came to work exhausted with harrowing tales of daycare drama and midnight crying babies. I couldn’t bring myself to invest the time and energy in what appeared to be a lifetime commitment to this world-wide company. After all, having babies and growing a family was high on my list.

Four years later – now working for a small business, I worked until the day I went into labor and was back on the job six weeks after the birth of my first child. There was a house to buy, my husband was laid off and out of a job for a few months when Angela was an infant…life was life. For the next seven years or so I juggled work with motherhood, trying things like working part time, working from home and starting my own business. You name it, I tried it in an effort to be the primary caretaker of my two daughters.

When I went “back to work” full time I accepted a job where I was, in my own humble estimation, over-qualified and under-paid because of my lack of a track record. I had done all of the things mentioned above, plus having lived and worked overseas, been innovative, creative, entrepreneurial. But I had not been employed in a traditional 8-5, Monday thru Friday, backside in a chair kind of job. What I lacked in experience I attempted to make up in education, earning my Master’s in Business Administration while working full-time and keeping up with two very active children, church, my marriage. The same things many of you Gen X and Gen Y-ers are doing right now.

So after caring for the nation’s children and attempting to find a balance that keeps us from being institutionalized, we find we are quite literally undervalued in the world of work. Pay is the definer of value in that world. Paying women less than men sends the clear message that a woman working is of less value than a man working.

Paying women less than men helps no one and hurts everyone. Men surely prefer that if their wives work they get paid equally. Children whose mothers work outside the home benefit from equal pay. And women, of course, deserve to be paid equally for equal work.

So how do we fix this? Is there a fix? I guess I hope that each new generation is more enlightened than the one before in terms of race and gender issues. Just as each new generation becomes, at least in theory, more color blind, each new generation hopefully becomes ignorant of past reasons to under-pay and under-value. Is that wishful thinking?

And another thing while I’m rolling along here. Can we just get rid of that taboo that keeps pay rates locked away in the file cabinets and in the board rooms? Transparency is key. Let’s get salaries out into the bright light of day and keep each other honest. It’s the best way to correct the inequality and helps us avoid another Lilly Ledbetter.

T-shirt from Zazzle.com. Photos of women at work from the Library of Congress archives. Statistics from the U.S. Census Bureau.

Why Women Work

Over the last week or so I’ve been observing women at work as I go about my usual life. Namely women of a certain age. Namely my age. Women approaching fifty. Women born into what is now known as Generation Jones.

One day last week I fell through the rabbit hole. I walked off the street in a small Oklahoma town into the county courthouse and straight into the seventies. Eight women in polyester, lined up, four by four in closely spaced desks faced the front wall. The floor was covered with thick industrial carpet of uncertain vintage, unraveling around a gaping hole where a file cabinet had been removed sometime in the last decade. The women were encased by cinder block, windowless walls, and metal shelves showcasing thick, red-bound books smelling of old paper; land deeds recording the proper and legal owner of every tract of land in the county. Only the flat screened computer monitors on each desk said yes, we are part of the new millennium.

Middle-aged women worked quietly, assisting each other without being asked. “Here, let me carry one of those books for you. Two are too heavy”, one said quietly to her neighbor. As I waited my turn I tried to imagine the life behind each face – what each woman faced at home, why she worked in this particular sisterhood, this secluded cloister.

On Saturday another middle-aged woman served me breakfast at Denny’s in another small town. She was well-groomed, cheerful and helpful, with her coiffed, teased and dyed brown hair. Where did she come from this morning? What causes her to get up each day, willing to pour coffee and serve pancakes to oil workers and travelers?


Friday night the Gen-Jones woman at the hotel desk patiently found her way around the computer program that seemed to momentarily baffle, her nicotine stained fingers displaying chipped nail polish. What had she been doing before putting on her clean, pressed blouse and applying her makeup that would leave that much dirt under her finger nails. Or was that, too, nicotine?


Is this the life these women imagined in their girlhood? As children we watched the confused and confusing world that was the sixties and early seventies. Gloria Steinem, Roe V Wade, no-fault divorce were discussions heard on the nightly news. Yet here we are, nearly 50 years later, perhaps wondering what we have gained. The majority of women work in pink color jobs like the women in the county clerk’s office – poorly-paid bookkeepers, administrative assistants, and receptionists – or in service jobs in hospitals, restaurants and hotels. Eighty-eight percent of people working in health care support positions are women. Seventy-four percent of office workers and 78 percent of personal care workers are female.



I’m going to leave these thoughts out there – blowing in the drafty place that is my mind today. I have other thoughts on the subject of women and work, but for now I have to get on the road. My desk awaits. In the mean time – out of curiosity, why do you work?


Top photo from the Wisconsin Historical Society. Gloria Steinem photo by U.S. News and World Report staff photographer. Statistics from the U.S. Census Bureau.

Miss you!

Hello, hello. Anybody out there? I've just been lollygagging around since last you heard from me. That's a weird term, don't you think. It's really a grandma kind of term, so I'm showing my advanced age. Although I am not (yet) a grandparent. No pressure kids. Seriously. Baby Gap never goes out of style, so all those darling little baby things I have stashed in the closet can wait. While you lollygag. While my friend Judy sends me her grandbaby picture of the week. Weekly.

I just looked up the definition of lollygag:

lol-ly-gag (lah-lee-gag)
verb - (used without object)
1) to spend time idly; loaf
2) to indulge in kisses, caresses; make love; neck
Origin 1860-65 Americanism, origin unknown


OK - seriously never heard of the second definition. I was actually referring to the first for myself, although the second definition certainly applies to the making of grandbabies. Oh chill out. I'm just kidding. You have to wait until I retire to produce grandbabies so I can babysit.


I started this post out planning to provide you with a list of all the things I've been doing instead of blogging. Somehow I got off track. There's a big surprise. So really, I can't remember how much I've told you. So I'm just gonna put it in a list.

1. Mark has recovered nicely from losing his job by starting his own business. He's been crazy busy doing accounting/bookkeeping/software training and I couldn't be prouder. He even managed to squeeze a week in Florida into his schedule. He says he was working there and I have to believe him since he actually got paid. God is good. All the time. Anybody need a good accountant?


2. My day job has been non-stop, go-go-go and I've been teaching a couple of classes at a local university in the evenings.


3. And here's something really, really exciting. My sister and I started a non-profit. Call us crazy. We won't care because we already know this. We are scared, petrified, excited, breathless, tired. It's a long story, but you can get a glimpse of it here.

And here we are at Thanksgiving week. Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks. Because no matter what is going on in your life, there's always a little room for the giving of thanks. And grandbabies.

General Manager of the Universe and other tall tales

If you read my last post about online advertisements following me around, and you didn't read the comments, I thought I'd share as a public service announcement. My computer whiz little brother had the following to say. Seems like very sound advice to me!

My $.02: It's all about the cookies. Make sure your browser is set to not accept 3rd-party cookies (I mean, they'd be totally stale by the third party anyway!). I also use three browsers - Firefox for the important stuff like online banking, Chrome for social stuff like Facebook or Blogger, and Safari for general anonymous browsing, news, research, etc. And, never let anything save your password(s) and if it asks you to turn on "auto-complete", remember Nancy Reagan and just say no. :-)

He's always been smart like that. Genius shows up in random blossoms on our family tree. Come to think of it, maybe I'm the outlier. Hmm.

My genius seems to be for organizing. I want to organize all the planets and galaxies of my universe. OK everyone, sort yourselves out and line up accordingly. Inefficiency drives me crazy. I schedule my trips to the bathroom around when I have something to drop in the office mail box, papers to put in the recycling bin, and a check request to drop off in the office one over from mine. Does anyone else do that? Seriously, one day I'm going to pee myself waiting to get everything organized for that trip down the hall. It would be so inefficient to stop midway through a draft of our quarterly newsletter just to answer the call of nature.

Do NOT mistake my genius for organizing for an ability to be neat and tidy. Planning/organizing are not the same as being tidy. Those of us with this type of genius often operate in a cluttered environment. It's hard to be tidy when one is managing the universe.

Motivational moments

Today our office went to the big-deal motivation seminar at the Cox Center here in OKC. It was a surreal experience. There before my very eyes, on stage in proud little Oklahoma City, were Joe Montana, Steve Forbes, General Colin Powell, Zig Ziggler, Rudy Guilliani, and best of all, former First Lady, Laura Bush. I just love that woman. She fascinates me. She's strong, elegant, intelligent, and above all, gracious.

The surreal part came with the 30 minute infomercials interspersed amongst the big names. Painful commercials promoting stuff you see on the odd channels on cable. You too can become a millionaire by learning to trade on the stock market, by buying and selling real estate, or by learning the intricacies of e-commerce. All for a mere $99.99.

I'm just not a signer-upper. I do not run to the latest fad. I do not believe they make anyone rich except the promoters. It's possible I miss out on fabulous, life-changing opportunities by living this way. But I doubt it.

I'm pretty sure that hard work, persistence, integrity, compassion and treating people right are the keys to a successful life. I'm aware those are not innovative thoughts. Those are free to all and do not require two day seminars.

But hey, I got to explain such things as hanging chads and life-threatening George Bush pretzel incidents to coworkers who were barely out of grade school when Laura Bush became First Lady. And they got to explain kj52 (kj5tweezy) to me. So that was an experience not to miss.

The day was, in fact, oddly motivating.

28 years of wedded bliss.

I have not excuse for falling off the bloggy wagon so much here lately except that life has hit me upside the head with a two-by-four, effectively knocking any creative thought right out of the overloaded brain. Survival is the goal for each day. There has been no excessive TV watching, no leisurely thumbing through a decorating magazine, no reading of summer novels. Nope. Because none of those things would work up a sweat, forcing me to change clothes three times per day, or just let the sweat-soaked panties dry on my aching body, leaving me chilled and wishing I'd brought a change of clothes. I can handle a sweaty shirt, but it's the sopping undies that make one miserable in this 105 degree heat. And unlike when I lived in Arizona, the heat here in Oklahoma is definitely not a "dry heat".

In the midst of all this sweatiness (are you still reading, or have you moved on to a less graphic representation of life in Oklahoma in June of 2009) - so, aaaannnyway, in the midst of the sweaty moving of the aforementioned in-laws, of the sweaty house renovation, of the sweaty everything involving moving off of the couch, Mark and I celebrated our 28th anniversary. In style. In Ada.

Don't be so judgy. Ada is a lovely town. I had to work there on Saturday, which was our official anniversary. And since I work for a non-profit and we have pretty much been doing the community serving thing as a family for about twenty of those years, Mark thought nothing of coming along and spending our anniversary serving the good folks of Coalgate, just down the road, forty miles or so, from Ada.

The thing I love about hotels is that you can crank the AC up (down?) to a decadent 52 degrees and lie shivering happily under several layers of blankets without worrying about next month's electric bill. I know. That's not a very tree-hugging thing to say. I should be more concerned about the environment, global warming, blah blah blah. Don't be so judgy. Sheesh. It was 105 degrees outside where I had been working all day in the service of humanity. I can't be responsible for the state of the ozone every waking moment!

We stayed in Ada an extra 24 hours just to bask in the coolness that was the Ada Holiday Inn Express, away from the naggy to-do list that awaited us back home. After 28 years you take your celebrations wherever and whenever you can get them.

I'm back home and ready to tackle the long list of things to do to get this house on the market. Anyone want to buy a much loved and renovated cottage in Bethany? Today you can take it as-is for a steal of a price. I'll leave you the to-do list under the magnet on the fridge.

Where am I?

I'm wondering if all hotels have the same decorating company. Is there a HotelMart where all chains go to buy the same nondescript furniture and stripy bed skirt and patterned window treatment? Because I could be taken blindfolded to one of these rooms and wouldn't know if I had landed in a Holiday Inn Express, a Comfort Inn, or another similar chain. The hotel room I'm in at the moment has no artwork on display whatsoever, which I find a refreshing change from what is usually screwed to the walls. Is it really necessary to use screws to attach the paintings? Do people walk off with more than the towels? Once I stayed in a hotel where the remote was screwed to the bedside table. That was seriously irritating. Another hotel had you check out a remote from the front desk. Is there a black market for TV remotes that I don't know about? Don't you need a TV to go with the remote?

I'm hanging out and working in the Atoka area and just came back from dinner. My coworker and I asked at the front desk for a restaurant recommendation, then left in search of the suggested Mexican place. We jumped in her truck, buckled in, tuned the radio to a good station, pulled out of the parking lot and...into the parking lot across the street. Somehow the fact that the restaurant was just across the street got lost in the telling. Or maybe in the listening. Hope nobody was watching the two women from "the city" who by all appearances were too lazy to walk across the road.

I've noticed that these chain hotels are trying to find ways to distinguish themselves from one another, since the decor/architecture/breakfast spread are all so cookie cutter. This hotel has one of those massage chairs in the lobby that you can use for free. I'm just not all about stretching out in a chair and letting my body parts get jiggled while folks pass by on their way in and out of the building. Now if they wanted to put one in each room, I'd be all over that.

Another hotel I stayed in recently offered "Happy Hour" where you could grab a beer or diet coke out of a cooler between the hours of 6:00pm and 8:00pm. I think they threw in a Snickers candy bar fo' free. It's not like I'm staying in the No-tell Motels. I usually stay in the best place I can find as I travel around Oklahoma. Me and the oil workers hanging out eating our fruit loops and waffles in the morning. My favorite time was when I stayed in a hotel where they were having a firemen's convention. That was some seriously pleasant eye candy to go with my morning coffee.

Did I really just say eye candy? Wow. I've sunk to a new low. I'm going to go read Tolstoy and listen to something from Rigoletto to improve my high-brow quotient. Or, I could just watch "John and Kate Plus Eight" on cable.

Where's my purse. I need the remote.

Dazed and confused

What day is it? I think I completely missed St. Patrick's Day. Not that that's a big holiday for me. I was always irritated in elementary school when I forgot to wear green and got pinched. Who thought that one up? Did St. Patrick really decree that everyone should wear green and go around pinching each other? It got really irritating when I grew up and people still did the pinching thing at the office. Seriously. Can we please act like adults? Besides, I bruise easily.

March 17 is more remembered in my family for my Grandpa Metz, who passed away last fall. It was his birthday. I think there might have been a little Irish in him, but he was mostly of German descent. I still catch myself thinking I need to go visit, but then startle with the realization that that entire generation is now gone.

I think today is Thursday. Can anyone confirm that?

Tessa is home for Spring Break, much to her disgust, since ALL her friends went somewhere fabulous for the week. Probably kind of like how ALL her friends had Furbies, or ALL her friends got new cars when they turned sixteen. But I'm enjoying having her home. She sweet talked her Daddy into going to rent a movie last night and we watched Australia, which is a movie of epic proportions. I thought we were done when Hugh Jackman and that woman whho is actually from Australia - you know, the one who used to be married to that guy who likes to jump on couches. I'm telling you, my brain is fried. Nicole Kidman. That's it. Anyway, when Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman finally got together and it looked like there was going to be a happily every after ending, that was the start of a whole 'nother movie!

Anyway, I'm thinking it's Thursday, which means it's not Saturday, and I still need to go to work. Maybe a Starbucks will bring me into the present. Sounds like as good a reason as any to spend $5 on a cup of coffee.

Cocktail schmocktail

Last night I had to attend a work related cocktail party/reception attended by lots of "important" people. At the end of the day when I'm tired and the brain has shut off, I really struggle to make small talk, look perky and interested...basically act like I care. And I needed to act like I cared because funding for my program was a hot topic. While I don't have any problem talking with strangers, I'm way more over into the introvert side. I only leave my house because I'm forced to by the desire to pay my bills, buy groceries and get that last kid through college. Otherwise I'd only leave the house to go to Starbucks, Hobby Lobby and Home Depot. Of course, I'd have to have a computer at home. But otherwise, I'd be content.

The good news was the reception was in our building, so when I got too tired of trying to look engaged, I'd cheat and sneak back to my office and surf the internet for a while, or whine on Twitter. My twitter peeps suggested the cocktails are what makes these types of social events doable. But I'm not much of a wine drinker, and the bartender didn't look prepared to make a cute little fruity beverage that makes the alcohol more tolerable. I'm just not into the hard stuff and I had to drive home. Although that last thought didn't seem to stop anyone else. I checked the headlines this morning and didn't see reference to DUIs and "important" people, so that's good.

On a completely different topic - sorry, couldn't think of a proper seque - oh wait, I could have said something about feeling "important". Anyway, my point is I wanted to share a couple of nice mentions from other blogs here and here. An unexpected bonus to this blogging thing has been connecting with people through the blogosphere. See, I told you I'd never have to leave my house.