tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84447040886497814642024-03-13T21:31:33.769-07:00Wordjanitor Strikes AgainA blog from the twisty turny musings of a writer, wanderer, parent. I find humor in strange corners of the world.Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-62722680706770248922021-07-03T21:53:00.002-07:002021-07-03T21:57:55.683-07:00The Consumerization of Popcorn... and IT<div><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px;">Technology continues to change not only the tools we </span>use<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px;"> but the language we use to describe it. Wikipedia describes </span><em style="color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consumerization" style="color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">consumerization</a></em><span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px;"> as:</span></div>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><em style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">…an increasingly accepted term used to describe the growing tendency for new information technology to emerge first in the consumer market and then spread into business and government organizations.</em></div></blockquote>
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Consumerization absolutely affects technology, but confining the definition to information technology too narrowly defines it. The etymology pins the emergence of the term itself as early as 2001, which is a long time in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aging_in_dogs" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">dog years</a> and at least a half century in technology. But the concept goes back far before Y2K. I could delve into Eli Whitney’s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cotton_gin" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">cotton gin</a>, but I’ll stick to less distant history.</div>
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Before we get to IT, consider the impact of consumerization on time and choice.</div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Consumerization & Time</span></strong></h2><div style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px;">In some ways, our experiences with consumer technology have changed the very speed at which we live our lives. We don’t make time for things the way we used to. We want them now.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jq9-h-N5Dkc/YODqXDvKTaI/AAAAAAABG4U/1EHHrAm4lcstpi-_yJlA2GmJ_WJmmXwTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s728/best-microwave-popcorns-CAT.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="popcorn in the microwave" border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="728" height="288" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jq9-h-N5Dkc/YODqXDvKTaI/AAAAAAABG4U/1EHHrAm4lcstpi-_yJlA2GmJ_WJmmXwTQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h288/best-microwave-popcorns-CAT.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
It’s the popcorn. OK, it’s the microwave oven. Food is both a human necessity and great motivator. The microwave changed our concept of time and convenience. We haven’t abandoned traditional cooking, but how often do you compare the conventional-oven directions to those for the microwave and think, “I want this to take 45 minutes, 3 minutes just isn’t long enough to wait”?</div>
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Popcorn showcases the evolution of our concept of time. Once upon a time, popcorn preparation was at least a 12.4-minute process, start to finish, including the ceremonial melting of butter and cleanup. Plus it required mastering the technique of keeping the pan in constant movement, carefully timing removal to optimize the number of kernels popped.</div>
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The mid-1970s arrival <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Presto_Industries" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">specialized popcorn appliances</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jiffy_Pop" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Jiffy Pop</a> brought popcorn faster and required less clean-up time, while largely eliminating the need for technique. Satisfaction came more quickly and with reduced effort.</div>
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And then came the microwave oven and magical little flat packages that fluffed up with aromatic salty goodness in three minutes. Clean up consisted of wiping the buttery stuff off your hands and tossing the bag in the trash. Instant gratification. Near zero effort. Our concept of time? Changed forever.</div>
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<h3 style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Consumerization & Choice</span></strong></h3><div style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px;">Consumerization has broadened our choices, allowing us more individualization. Needless to say, the concept was not yet pervasive in 1909 when <a href="http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Henry_Ford" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Henry Ford</a> famously said “Any customer can have a car painted any colour that he wants so long as it is black.”</div>
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Henry would spit rivets knowing a customer was in a deep dilemma between Deep Impact Blue, Gotta Have It Green, and Grabber Blue for the 11 models of the <a href="http://www.ford.com/cars/mustang/" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">2013 Ford Mustang</a>.</div>
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In order for companies to meet the wallets of consumers before competitors do, they create products that meet consumer wants and needs. The myriad coffee choices once included: black, with cream, with sugar, or a radical blend of cream and sugar. Now it’s <a href="http://peets.com/" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Peet’s</a> or <a href="http://www.starbucks.com/" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Starbucks</a>, vente or large, drip or triple-shot sugar-free hazelnut soy something-or-other — multiplied by 712 variations and options.</div>
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The fast food dilemma of “hamburger or cheeseburger” has evolved to new complexities of burger variation. And chicken – broiled, fried, buffaloed. Sometimes even fish! The mind reels, the stomach roils.</div>
<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Consumerization & IT</span></strong></h2><div style="background-color: white; color: #4a4a4a; font-family: CiscoSansTTLight; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin-bottom: 1.125rem; margin-top: 1.125rem; padding: 0px;">Time and choice collide when we circle back to the consumerization of IT. Time has evaporated. The days of IT-provisioned and imaged PCs are waning. Even with laptops, the “this one or that one” range of options has blossomed to include PC or Mac, then several models of each according to your job tasks.</div>
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Consider messaging. Not so long ago, we actually used paper to send messages in envelopes. A reply might take a couple of days from someone in the office; a week, maybe more, from someone in another location. Today that seems like geologic time.</div>
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E-mail was a revolution much like specialized popcorn devices. Then, this little toy we used to send smiley faces to our friends crept into the office. Not only did we co-opt instant messaging for intracompany communications, but we insisted that the vendors that created enterprise versions include emoticons. Consumerization indeed.</div>
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But that’s old stuff. Now we have <a href="http://www.cisco.com/en/US/products/ps10362/Products_Sub_Category_Home.html" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">web conferencing</a>, desktop sharing, video calling. And if I call you, I expect an instant response. Our messaging app—Slack, Webex Teams, Google, take your pick—shows me you’re online, I know you’re there. Thank the microwave, time is now.</div>
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Today’s focus is on BYOD, the wonderful world of bring your own device. IT departments now deal with a seemingly logarithmically increasing number of devices, some corporate-provisioned, others employee-provided, but all with the same expectation of having the tools they need to do their jobs wherever, whenever, on whatever – that means applications, web conferencing, messaging, presence, e-mail, video. All of it.</div>
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I don’t want to carry a personal phone and a work phone, I want everything on one and I want to pick the phone I like best and have all the work apps and personal apps I need to be most productive – and amused.</div>
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And it’s not just one device. I want to use my laptop in the office, but access my secure e-mail and calendar from the third-base line at a <a href="http://www.sfgiants.com/" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">San Francisco Giants</a> game.</div>
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<strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Choice:</strong> You get to choose the devices you want to use.</div>
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<strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Time:</strong> The 9-to-5 work clock is irrelevant. Time zones are irrelevant.</div>
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<strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Consumerization of IT:</strong> Your device has the applications you want, the cool case that makes it yours, and the picture of pet iguana on the screen. You can use your device for work and play – with the IT safeguards and policies in place to keep your company information secure, but enough flexibility so you can <a href="https://play.google.com/store/search?q=popcorn&c=apps" style="background-color: transparent; color: #0d98be; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">pop popcorn</a>, virtually.</div>
<i>I originally published a version of this on blogs.cisco.com.</i><br />
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Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-59752115991238314482021-03-12T10:03:00.000-08:002021-03-12T10:03:09.069-08:00Prioritize Teamwork to Deliver Results<p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">This post originally appeared on <a href="https://blogs.cisco.com/collaboration/prioritize-teamwork">Cisco.com</a> in March 2017. </span></i></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">We’re in the business of creating tools and technology for </span><a href="http://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/solutions/collaboration/index.html" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2; font-size: 18px;">collaboration</a><span style="font-size: 18px;">. Everything we do is focused on making it easier for teams to work together and “get stuff done.” But putting the best tools in place isn’t going to create teamwork from thin air. If your organizational culture doesn’t actually reward people for working together, tools alone won’t make it happen.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">Few people would disagree that teamwork delivers results. But for decades, recognition systems in business have focused on individual achievement. This encourages the belief that if you want to get ahead, you have to make all the magic on your own – or at least make sure you’re the person to get the credit for it.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">Have you ever been in one of those giant quarterly team meetings where four or five people are called out as superstars? How many of those people truly did it all on their own? How many times have you been sitting in that meeting thinking that Bob and Jane got accolades, but the project was a massive team effort? It’s a good way to convince people that getting attention is more important than making an effort. And if you’re not likely to be rewarded for your effort, why put in the effort?</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">It’s time to prioritize collective efforts over the competition.</p><figure aria-describedby="caption-attachment-215905" class="wp-caption aligncenter" id="attachment_215905" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; color: #404040; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 1em auto 1.5em; max-width: 100%; width: 400px;"><a href="https://www.cisco.com/c/dam/en/us/solutions/collateral/collaboration/infographics/collab-infographic-prioritize-teamwork.pdf" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;"><img alt="quotes about teamwork" class="wp-image-215905" height="599" loading="lazy" sizes="(max-width: 550px) 100vw, 550px" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/blogs-images/ciscoblogs/1/post-infographic-teamwork-sm.jpg-550x824.jpg" srcset="https://storage.googleapis.com/blogs-images/ciscoblogs/1/post-infographic-teamwork-sm.jpg-300x450.jpg 300w, https://storage.googleapis.com/blogs-images/ciscoblogs/1/post-infographic-teamwork-sm.jpg-550x824.jpg 550w" style="border-radius: 15px; border-style: none; box-sizing: inherit; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="400" /></a></figure><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">I’m not suggesting we hand out participation ribbons to people just for showing up. Nor am I saying that it’s time to abandon the Most Valuable Player recognition.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">I certainly wouldn’t deny <a href="http://m.giants.mlb.com/player/518516/madison-bumgarner" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;" target="_blank">Madison Bumgarner</a> his MVP award for the 2014 World Series. But although he was a standout player, the <a href="http://sanfrancisco.giants.mlb.com/" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;" target="_blank">San Francisco Giants</a> won the series as a team. And the rewards and recognition for that win are shared throughout the organization, from the field to the office staff. Would the full organization be as committed if all the glory went to the pitcher? Probably not.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;"><a href="http://executive.mit.edu/faculty/profile/77-michael-schrage" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;" target="_blank">Michael Schrage</a> from the MIT Center for Digital Business nets it out pretty simply. If you want to encourage teamwork, reward it. And not just a little. In his Harvard Business Review article “<a href="https://hbr.org/2015/06/reward-your-best-teams-not-just-star-players" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;" target="_blank">Reward Your Best Teams, Not Just Star Players,</a>” he turns it into simple math: a 50/50 split.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px; padding-left: 30px; text-align: center;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; color: #333399;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-weight: bolder;"><em style="box-sizing: inherit;">“For every executive utterance praising a high-impact individual, there should be an equally emphatic expression of support for a high-achieving team… </em></span></span><em style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; color: #333399;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-weight: bolder;">Teams, not just individuals, should get their fair share of bonus pools. A perceived — or real — absence of fairness can cripple team culture.” </span></span>–</em>Michael Schrage, MIT</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">For people to want to participate fully in teams, they need to feel that it’s beneficial to them as individuals as well. They want to know that leaders recognize the roles they play and reward their efforts as part of the team’s success. And that’s another important element – bringing together the right people in the right roles.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">If you want employees to collaborate, the first two steps are simple: First, create an environment that prioritizes teamwork. Then provide the tools to make it work.</p><blockquote style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 1.5em 0px; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px; padding: 25px 0px;">Get more information on <a href="http://www.cisco.com/c/en/us/solutions/collaboration/index.html" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: inherit; color: #0175a2;">tools and strategies for teamwork</a>.</p></blockquote><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;">P.S. If American sports aren’t your thing, consider the recent Grammy Awards. Adele won several awards. And although it’s her voice you hear in the songs, this is who you saw on stage as she accepted – and intentionally broke – an award. Her team.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #495057; font-family: CiscoSans, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.44; margin: 1.125em 0px 0px;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-215901" height="199" loading="lazy" src="https://storage.googleapis.com/blogs-images/ciscoblogs/1/post-teamwork-adele-300x199.jpg" style="border-radius: 15px; border-style: none; box-sizing: inherit; clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 100%;" width="300" /></p><p> </p>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-47094552838931708132018-08-05T07:11:00.001-07:002018-08-05T07:14:02.473-07:00Why I Do Medical MissionsI was sitting in this same spot almost exactly two years ago. (Actually, I think I was in the room next door, but what are 15 feet between friends?) I’d just arrived in Namibia for the first time. On that day, I had some idea of what the next two weeks would bring. Today I have a better idea, but I’m well aware that much changes along the way. Volunteering is often a good exercise in flexibility. <br>
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In 2012, a friend gave me an opportunity that would change my life. He invited me on a medical mission. I’d already been managing the group's blog and social media for a few years. But the chance to actually travel with the team was something I’d hadn’t expected. I wouldn’t consider myself particularly adventurous, but I knew I had to go. And so, I found myself in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta with the <a href="http://www.extremityproject.com/" target="_blank">International Extremity Project</a>. <br>
<br>
Not only did my first trip provide an amazing life experience, but it helped fill a void in my heart. I realize that sounds a bit dramatic, but I’ll explain.<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2018/08/why-i-do-medical-missions.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-28535301242789269512018-02-24T21:34:00.000-08:002018-08-05T07:14:20.147-07:00Sending My Kid to School After ParklandMy kid has questions I can't answer. He wants to know how he's supposed to go to school and feel safe. I have no answers. I can't tell him that everything will be fine. I can't guarantee that. I can't lie.<br>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
On the same day that a Florida teenager went into a high school and killed 17 people, my son's former PE teacher turned himself into the local police for child pornography and other related charges.<br>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
Boom, crash, splat. He's 14. His sense of safety at school is shattered. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
How does he know that someone won't come onto the campus armed and determined to do damage? How does he know that he can trust the very adults he's been conditioned to rely on since pre-school? </div>
</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<div>
How do I answer those questions?<br>
</div></div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2018/02/sending-my-kid-to-school-after-parkland.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-45819470408086602792017-09-09T16:44:00.001-07:002018-08-05T07:15:52.282-07:00The Table: A Story of Need vs. Want<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EK4Z4PJpbEs/WbR8BfmCHwI/AAAAAAAA25c/1-ZvmjH8NbM_r2D3M6KyMCWpSl1qtGlswCLcBGAs/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1079" data-original-width="1600" height="215" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EK4Z4PJpbEs/WbR8BfmCHwI/AAAAAAAA25c/1-ZvmjH8NbM_r2D3M6KyMCWpSl1qtGlswCLcBGAs/s320/image.jpg" width="320"></a>I try to make purchase decisions based on need vs. want. I'll often see something that I really like but opt out of buying it because I don't <i>need</i> it. I'd rather be happy with what I have than focus on wanting things I don't. (Yes, I did <i>need</i> the motorcycle. For mental health reasons. Yeah, that's it.)<br>
<br>
<i>OK, let's not get distracted by facts.</i><br>
<i><br></i> Admittedly, sometimes this need/want thing goes a little far.<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
Exhibit A: I still have a bra that the dog chewed during her awkward post-puppy supportive undergarment chewing phase. She absolutely disabled another one, but this one survived with an interesting fringe in the cleavage area. It's serviceable. It's more of a yard-work bra than an office bra, not that anyone would really know. Until now, anyway. Bonus: I smirk every time I put it on.<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-table-story-of-need-vs-want.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-79621120764235256382017-09-07T21:33:00.001-07:002021-07-03T21:45:19.320-07:00Details + Details + Details = TMI <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s4sJNC3QfdY/WbIb29zHFdI/AAAAAAAA24E/cXjfrexiDos-q5STxCj9ZYP_KAfWDY3PACLcBGAs/s1600/blah-blah-blah.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s4sJNC3QfdY/WbIb29zHFdI/AAAAAAAA24E/cXjfrexiDos-q5STxCj9ZYP_KAfWDY3PACLcBGAs/s200/blah-blah-blah.jpg" width="200"></a></div>
<b><span style="color: purple;">TG likes to explain things. </span></b>All sorts of things. And he likes details. Lots of details. Like today, he didn't have a level in Soquel because he didn't bring one from home so when he went to the store with J, B, and the kids he bought a new one.<br>
<br>
I made the mistake of making a pun about "taking things to a new level." And somehow that jump-started a very detailed discussion of cabinet installation. And about 17 other things.<br>
<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2017/09/details-details-details-tmi.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-66154196909312895782016-09-18T19:38:00.001-07:002016-09-18T19:47:34.984-07:00Birds of Protest: When Words Don't Work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i2ytauML1iw/V99L_h88qXI/AAAAAAAAv0Y/mGMYHBngVoQCQNLZIGEsNXU4t6nuI9dSwCLcB/s1600/14322781_10153986128768214_1549650477528039554_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i2ytauML1iw/V99L_h88qXI/AAAAAAAAv0Y/mGMYHBngVoQCQNLZIGEsNXU4t6nuI9dSwCLcB/s400/14322781_10153986128768214_1549650477528039554_n.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
Sometimes you can't do the things you're supposed to do. I was supposed to go to a memorial for a friend today. I couldn't. They're adding up. It would have been the fourth such gathering this year. Maybe that's not a lot, but it's enough for me right now.<br>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
I'm tired of loss and focusing on loss. Real loss, impending loss, potential loss, metaphorical loss. There's a lot of it swirling around, near and far. I started running out of words. OK, I had words, but more often than not, they started resembling an unpunctuated string of cursing. I was running out of coherent sentences and paragraphs. I couldn't find them.<br>
</div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2016/09/birds-of-protest-when-words-dont-work.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-30019560305875489542016-06-09T20:58:00.001-07:002020-11-11T16:16:09.575-08:00Raising a Son in a World of Brock Turners<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsnNZhKmyb8/V1o89FNnvKI/AAAAAAAAtQ0/q0PxK4MwC_w0QlB3I9PfD-dMIp5md3Q7ACLcB/s1600/mother-son.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NsnNZhKmyb8/V1o89FNnvKI/AAAAAAAAtQ0/q0PxK4MwC_w0QlB3I9PfD-dMIp5md3Q7ACLcB/s320/mother-son.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
This whole <i>Stanford Rapist Who Can Swim</i> thing has been everywhere this week, and I haven't tried to escape it. I've read the letters, read the articles, and shared in the discussion. I found myself wandering between disbelief and outrage.<br>
<br>
It was strange to realize I've been in the courtroom of the judge who sentenced Turner to the prison equivalent of cleaning chalkboard erasers after elementary school. He annoyed me then. He infuriates me now.<br>
<br>
At first, I didn't talk about the Stanford case around my son. I didn't want to talk about rape. I didn't want to explain what Turner had done. I didn't want to talk about how a young man smart enough to go to a university as prestigious as Stanford could also be as vicious as to attack an unconscious girl behind a dumpster.<br>
<br>
But then, I did. I am raising a young man. I wanted him to see me angry, astounded, and affected by the case.<br>
<br>
My son can go toe-to-toe with me about how unfair it is that I limit his screen time. He can go full-blast pre-teen when I ask him to clean up the dog poop in the backyard. He can roll his eyes so far that I wonder if they'll return to their proper position in their sockets. He is, most definitely, an adolescent.<br>
<br>
But he has an amazing heart when it comes to people and emotion. And I am grateful.<br>
<br>
Even still, I needed him to know that the culture in which he lives goes far beyond boys trying to impress each other with locker-room talk. That middle school boys are not far enough away from college-age boys. That losing sight of people as human beings means you risk losing your own humanity.<br>
<br>
I've talked about elements of the case with him. About a young woman who drank too much and a young man who took too much from her. About her being passed out behind a dumpster. About her letter to the court at sentencing. About what Turner's father wrote in defense of his son's behavior.<br>
<br>
Tonight, I read <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/tomnamako/joe-biden-writes-an-open-letter-to-stanford-survivor" target="_blank">Joe Biden's open letter to the victim</a>, out loud to @. The kid reads novels like they're pamphlets, but I wanted him to hear it out loud. I wanted him to hear things like<br><br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>"you were failed by anyone who dared to question <br>this one clear and simple truth: <br>Sex without consent is rape. <br>Period. <br>It is a crime."</i></div>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and </div>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i>"We will speak to change the culture on our college campuses <br>— a culture that continues to ask the wrong questions: <br>What were you wearing?</i></i></div>
<i> </i><br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><i>Why were you there?<br> What did you say? <br>How much did you drink?</i></i></div>
<i> <div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Instead of asking: Why did he think he had license to rape?"</i></div>
</i><br>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I was reading an </span><a href="http://www.vox.com/2016/6/9/11889472/stanford-sexual-assault-brock-turner" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">article by a public defender in Oakland</a><span style="text-align: left;">, who talked about how her clients get much more harsh penalties, even for victimless crimes. He asked me to send it to him. He wanted to read the whole thing for himself. From there he can follow links to see more, including the victim's statement, in all its detail. And he probably will. It will affect him. It will give him a perspective he'll hopefully never experience himself.</span></div>
<br>
I am grateful that I am raising an empathetic young man. I'm glad that he reacts in disbelief that Turner could do something like this, with near impunity. I'm glad that he asks why the sentence is so light when it could have been real. I'm glad he has an opinion, questions, disbelief. I'm proud that he wants to know more.<br>
<br>
I am raising a young man. And I am proud of the young man I am raising.<span></span><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2016/06/raising-son-in-world-of-brock-turners.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-16509075868484317422015-08-30T14:19:00.000-07:002015-08-30T14:23:59.428-07:00Cancer Is a NarcissistI am angry. And I am sad. But at the moment, it's mostly anger. Keyboard and reader beware.<br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That androgynous, faceless, scourge <br>
with too many names and ways of wreaking havoc. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That invisible stalker that sneaks in at the cellular level, <br>
latching on and demanding attention. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That predatory visitor that remains unseen until<br>
it's too often too late. </div>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It wins again. Today, cancer won again. </div>
<br>
It won this morning, taking a young woman barely 30 from her world, her family's world, our world, this world. Quickly. Aggressively. Ruthlessly.<br>
<br>
I want to scream at cancer, cuss it out, kick it where it hurts, be heard. But cancer is a narcissist. It doesn't care that I'm angry. It knows nothing but itself and how to propagate until it wins.<br>
<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2015/08/i-am-angry-at-cancer.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-20625377705429326882015-05-06T22:14:00.001-07:002015-09-01T21:27:54.048-07:00Planetary Pronunciation Gone South<div class="MsoNormal">
First, there was a question of the location of the spare
toilet paper. @ couldn’t find it. He looked in the right places. I told him to
check the shelf at eye level. Oops, wrong eyes. TG had put it at eye level,
except it was his eye level. (Remember, the <i>T </i>stands for <i>Tall…</i>) Even better, it
was at the back of the shelf.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
TG's choice of TP placement brought on a discussion of whether he was opposed
to @ actually using toilet paper. TG claimed he was trying to get @ to think about
Star Trek. @ had to think a second… Wait, Klingons? Yep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Stop… that’s not
funny.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow that brought up a question of pronunciation. Specifically, is the name of the planet pronounced <i>yur-ay-niss </i>or <i>yurin-us</i>?
Where’s the syllable emphasis? Is it a long <i>a</i>
or a short <i>a</i>? Because <i>yur-ay-niss </i>just sounds gross and <i>yurin-us</i> doesn’t sound much better and it doesn’t even make sense anyway. I mean, why would pee come out of something labeled with a word that actually has the word has anus in it? See, it doesn't make sense at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Mom! Stop.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Come on @, we just want you to think about astronomy. You
know, like exploring dark space. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Stop… That’s not
funny. It's just not funny.”</i> He threatened to lock us out of the house. </div>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2015/05/uranus.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-20280134629873205342015-04-18T22:36:00.000-07:002015-05-06T22:19:16.857-07:00Crap, Cash, and a Killing Spree (Just Another Saturday)<b>You'd think I had a crapload of cash hanging out my back pocket.</b><br>
<br>
I had neither crap, cash, nor a crapload of cash in my pocket.<br>
<br>
I checked.<br>
<br>
The safest lane for a motorcycle is the far-left lane. Not today. Apparently, a lot of people were in a "20 miles over? meh" hurry. I stopped counting after the 97th car tried to crawl up my, err... tailpipe. (OK, I didn't count. It's just a low estimate.)<br>
<br>
And the guy who tried to read the label on my jeans for 40 miles, but refused to pass until I actually pulled into a turnout? Charmer.<br>
<br>
"Perhaps you were riding too slowly," you think. Reasonable assumption -- after all, I'm a girl on a giant tricycle, right?<br>
<br>
I checked that too.<br>
<br>
My speedometer was quite clearly in the "this could be pricey" zone.<br>
<br>
Maybe if they realized I was in the midst of a 310-mile killing spree, they would have backed off. Shown a little patience.<br>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ffrQ9KwhD2M/VTMlvWZpq7I/AAAAAAAAKEQ/cY2Hx68ziVg/s1600/20150307_173641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ffrQ9KwhD2M/VTMlvWZpq7I/AAAAAAAAKEQ/cY2Hx68ziVg/s1600/20150307_173641.jpg" height="400" width="300"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evidence of many satisfying <i>splats.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2015/04/crap-cash-and-killing.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-32410508042350717852015-02-25T20:55:00.001-08:002015-09-21T21:17:51.860-07:00The F'ing Fish Died -- Finally!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.thisiscolossal.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/fish-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thisiscolossal.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/fish-6.jpg" height="320" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
Blueberry is dead. Finally.<br>
<br>
Blueberry may have been the longest-living betta fish in the county for all I know. I searched "betta fish life span" and Google kindly told me "2 y on average (In captivity)" with a picture and everything.<br>
<br>
Yeah, Blueberry doubled that estimate. At least. Even after spending her first couple years in a pickle jar after she and her former neighbor fish called bullshit on the "females can be kept in the same tank" myth. Or maybe we just had particularly bitchy fish who missed the sharing lesson in school.<br>
<br>
<li class="g mnr-c g-blk" data-hveid="28" data-ved="0CBwQizYoAA" style="border: 0px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 23px; padding: 0px; position: relative;">(School. Fish. Yeah, I went there.)</li><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-fish-died.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-70493272799711993522014-12-07T14:09:00.002-08:002015-09-01T21:27:54.106-07:00There's an 8-foot Dinosaur on My LawnFirst, let's be clear. I am not one of those people who has all of the holiday decorations staged and ready to put up immediately after the T-day turkey carcass has been turned to soup.<br>
<br>
Yet, there's a somewhat crazed looking eight-foot inflatable T-Rex on my lawn, complete with Santa hat, sweater, and a nifty little tree. Why? Because I wanted the Saint Bernard.<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.homedepot.com/catalog/productImages/400/2d/2d440258-3f6e-4b7e-9dcc-f73194f40be0_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.homedepot.com/catalog/productImages/400/2d/2d440258-3f6e-4b7e-9dcc-f73194f40be0_400.jpg" height="320" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted it. <i>Really, really wanted it.</i> A nine-foot tall inflatable lawn puppy. Nine feet of awesome. Nine feet of cute.<br>
<br>
But I didn't want it because it's cute. Within minutes, maybe a few dozen seconds, I had a plan. I had it all figured out. I had a three-step plan.<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/12/8-foot-dinosaur-on-my-lawn.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-1070229032754539112014-11-07T09:16:00.000-08:002015-09-01T21:27:54.039-07:00What's in the Box, Luke?Sometimes I just have to go back in time to laugh out loud.<br />
<br />
Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ejnBImQ3hvE?list=UUAev7unMNTGY6EudvTR3wtQ" width="560"></iframe>
Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-33828568981588322522014-10-23T19:21:00.000-07:002014-10-23T19:23:29.046-07:00Janitor of Words, Crusher of Dreams<span style="color: #38761d;"><b>This is so awesome. Sooo very awesome. I have a new title. I am now, officially, as proclaimed by my son, The Crusher of Dreams.</b></span><br>
<br>
I've earned the title over time, with many incidents proving my worthiness of it, because I am -- after all -- a parent. But my title was not until today bestowed upon me. And bestowed upon me with all of the melodrama such a title deserves.<br>
<br>
What, you ask, has brought me this honor?<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xoZzNGRLwME/VEm2uIfjR5I/AAAAAAAAC_o/3ZST6BExxK8/s1600/20141023_173223~2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xoZzNGRLwME/VEm2uIfjR5I/AAAAAAAAC_o/3ZST6BExxK8/s1600/20141023_173223%7E2.jpg" height="320" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
A piano.<br>
<br>
More accurately, parts of a piano. The disintegrating corpse of a piano currently basking in the twilight behind the middle school cafeteria on a large furniture dolly. Legless, lidless, and missing several keys, my son wants this piano for its nostalgic and historic value.<br>
<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/10/crusher-of-dreams.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-10298881596176179502014-10-04T22:47:00.000-07:002014-10-07T21:47:33.747-07:00Where There's Smoke...Three weeks ago, my dad called me with questions. By his tone and the less-than-subtle hint of frustration in his voice, these were very pressing questions:<br>
<div>
<br>
<div>
<i>Why do we have so many damn towels? </i><br>
<div>
<i>Where in the hell did all of these sheets come from? </i></div>
<div>
<i>What am I supposed to do with all these damn towels?</i></div>
<div>
<i>Who needs this many towels?</i></div>
</div>
<div>
<i><br></i></div>
<div>
Then two weeks ago, on a Thursday morning, it was abundantly clear why we had </div>
<div>
<i> so </i></div>
<div>
<i> many </i></div>
<div>
<i> damn </i></div>
<div>
<i> towels.</i></div>
</div>
<div>
<i><br></i></div>
<div>
I come by my hesitance to ask for help honestly. It's inherited. Hobbled after a foot surgery, X gave me a bell so I could ring for help when I needed it. Me? Need? Help? True to form, I would wait until he was out of the house, then hop around to get what I needed.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZSQcPClvhlM/VDTBexpvtgI/AAAAAAAAChE/xPLM-fzxwMk/s1600/IMG_5800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZSQcPClvhlM/VDTBexpvtgI/AAAAAAAAChE/xPLM-fzxwMk/s1600/IMG_5800.JPG" height="240" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's not fog in them thar hills, it's smoke. Lots of it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So when my dad called me on a Wednesday afternoon and asked for help, there was no question. I picked up @ from school and arranged to have TG take him to to school the next morning. My a-m-a-z-i-n-g neighbors agreed to pick him up in the afternoon. I threw some empty boxes in the truck and drove toward a forest fire.<br>
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Started by an <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/science/article/Alleged-arsonist-arrested-in-King-Fire-5764829.php" target="_blank">arsonist</a> on a Saturday evening, the fire had covered more than 20,000 acres by the time I arrived at my dad's house late Wednesday night. By Thursday morning at 7a, the <a href="http://inciweb.nwcg.gov/incident/4108/" target="_blank">King Fire</a> had made a massive 15-mile run north and expanded by 40,000 acres -- with zero containment. By 10a, I was running out of towels as I wrapped valuables.</div>
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</div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/10/king-fire.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-73385424995792589912014-05-18T23:51:00.000-07:002014-05-18T23:54:11.344-07:00Mother's Day from Two Perspectives<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qhO3MFTne6A/U3lNDmrQnpI/AAAAAAAACDw/joV_9b95mlc/s1600/IMG_5213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qhO3MFTne6A/U3lNDmrQnpI/AAAAAAAACDw/joV_9b95mlc/s1600/IMG_5213.JPG" width="320"></a>I did something different this year in preparation for Mother's Day. I asked for something. Specifically, I made a breakfast-menu request. And so, my day started with amazing <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Cornmeal-Pancakes-with-Blueberries-1655" target="_blank">cornmeal blueberry</a> pancakes. TG (being TG) did more than standard recipe-research due diligence and came up with a very tasty formula.<br>
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The best part of Mother's Day is that I get to be a mom to
this amazing, intelligent, goofy ten-year-old sidekick. He's the kid who takes
a shirt, tie, and jacket to his grandpa's house in the woods so he can dress up
for my birthday dinner and Mother's Day breakfast. And he's the kid who
surprises me with the facts he has amassed in his curious mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He asked whether I knew what <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Edison" target="_blank">Thomas Edison</a> had invented.
Thinking the answer was obvious, I went straight to "incandescent
lightbulb." True enough, but he was referring to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electric_chair" target="_blank">electric chair</a>. Yeah,
I didn't know that. And I gladly admitted it. Edison had more than 1000 patents,
why should I expect my kid to pick the most obvious one? (The <a href="http://www.history.com/" target="_blank">History Channel</a> strikes again.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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But that's not just the best part of Mother's Day. It's the
best part of any day. Being @’s mom is a privilege in more ways than one. It’s
not that he’s just a great kid, but that he overcame so many challenges to
survive. He's here. I get to celebrate him. In my heart, I have his twin, who
will always be a part of me. On certain days, that's a more bittersweet reality
than on others.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mother's Day is complicated. Or it feels complicated to me. Or I make it complicated in my head. But it's not for the reasons surrounding my own motherhood. There are other pieces to it that don't particularly co-exist all that well -- namely the whole "daughterhood" part.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div></div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/05/mothers-day.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-76081368738389763522014-04-24T14:20:00.000-07:002014-04-24T14:20:48.004-07:00Bikers for Babies -- start point details<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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S<span style="text-align: center;">taging for Bikers for Babies will be on Park Avenue. Park your bike on either side of the street (someone will be there to direct you). </span><span style="text-align: center;">Check in with me to get your wristband and grab some coffeecake provided by Hobee's in the main festival area. Come back for the safety talk. </span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">The event starts with speeches and a ceremony hosted by an executive from my company. A family will speak about their personal experience. </span><span style="text-align: center;">After the opening ceremony, they'll have a countdown, and the walkers will go down the middle of Park Street -- with us cheering them on! </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Once they're clear, we're on our way!!! Vroooooom!</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><i><b>A very personal request: </b>Please observe the moment of silence during the bagpiper's playing of Amazing Grace to recognize babies who didn't survive. </i></span></div>
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<br />Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0Park Avenue & South Market Street, San Jose, CA 95113, USA37.3321428 -121.8900843999999811.8101083 -163.19867839999998 62.8541773 -80.581490399999979tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-19318217792348388842014-04-01T18:00:00.000-07:002014-04-01T18:00:00.231-07:00Corporate Branding or Corporate Blanding?My day job is in marketing for a technology company. I've worked on a lot of projects, both as a content creator and as a reviewer. I'm sure we're not the only company that calls our "brand identity" team, the "brand police." And this video is so flippin' on the mark, it hurts :-)<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/2YBtspm8j8M" width="560"></iframe><br />
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<i>The video is a fantastic visualization of a <a href="http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/this-is-a-generic-brand-video" target="_blank">post (or is it a poem?) by Kendra Eash on McSweeney's</a>.</i><br />
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The brand-approval process often feels more like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Livestock_branding" target="_blank">cattle branding</a> than I'd prefer. There's something to be said for creating a consistent image, but sometimes that effort goes further into the generic void than creative minds can stand...Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-24571878848960393812014-02-01T11:42:00.000-08:002014-02-02T14:24:38.502-08:00Does Your Bank Read the News? Apparently, Chase Doesn'tI always tell my son something along the lines of "a little bit at a time adds up to something big." Not earth-shattering news. And I'm not sure he's really listening to me. But someone with a long list of stolen credit-card numbers is listening. Intently. And listening to the sound of ca-ching, as they charge your credit card $9.84 at a time.<br>
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Living in the age of internet rumors and dramatic Facebook alerts about whatever the fake freakout of the week is, I wasn't immediately alarmed about this whole $9.84 fraudulent charge thing. But then I heard it on the radio. I saw it on the news. And I looked into it. No foolin' this time.<br>
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The <a href="http://www.bbb.org/council/news-events/bbb-scam-alerts/2014/01/scam-alert-check-your-credit-card-statement-for-these-charges/" target="_blank">Better Business Bureau posted a scam alert</a> last week advising people to look for fraudulent credit card charges on their bills. Specifically, a charge for $9.84 on your credit card bill. The "merchant" is typically a .com name of some sort.<br>
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I checked my statement. I found the charge. Yep, there was a charge for $9.84, as advertised. In my case, the merchant was listed as EETSAC.com. Nope, not the source of any recent purchases. Or non-recent purchases for that matter. Damn.<br>
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So, naturally, I started with my bank. For the purposes of this post, we'll call it "<a href="http://www.chase.com/" target="_blank">Chase</a>." (Because it's Chase.) First I went to the website, we'll call it chase.com, and tried to search for 9.84. But you can't search. I found a link for security on the home page. Lots of links about their policies, but nothing about current alerts. But, eventually a link to a page that tells you how to report fraud by phone.<br>
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Excellent. This should be simple.<br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/02/does-your-bank-read-news-apparently.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-14487924077846120272014-01-26T23:16:00.000-08:002014-01-26T23:19:00.489-08:00Two Wheeling: East Bay Hills Loop<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U4YmyHST8Gw/UuXr2x705sI/AAAAAAAABzQ/3GbWlIpMlcA/s1600/east+bay+hills+2014-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U4YmyHST8Gw/UuXr2x705sI/AAAAAAAABzQ/3GbWlIpMlcA/s1600/east+bay+hills+2014-01.jpg" height="153" width="320"></a><b>Destination: </b>Castro Valley via Livermore to Tracy and back, freeway free<br>
<b>Mileage: </b>100-mile loop <br>
<a href="http://goo.gl/maps/nZUpJ" target="_blank">Route</a><br>
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It's January. The weather is insane -- in a good way, kinda. So far, January 2014 has been chock full of fabulously beautiful days. Warm, sunny, and ripe for riding. It should be raining. We need the rain. But until the water falls from the sky, it must be time to ride.<br>
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Our group of 30 met up at <a href="http://www.peets.com/" target="_blank">Peet's</a> for coffee, conversation, croissants (chocolate, <i>thankyouverymuch</i>), and all that good stuff. We broke into two groups. The first section of the route took Palomares Road, which winds along farms and a few wineries, oak trees, and a creek until it meets up with Highway 84 near Sunol. We continued east on 84 to Tesla Road, which skirts the south edge of Livermore and heads over the hills.<br>
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By some magical magic of some sort, Tesla Road becomes Corral Hollow Road along the way. OK, so the signage about explosives testing "next four miles" was a bit disturbing. But I feel much better now that I've checked out the website and seen Bambi on the picture. <br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/01/two-wheeling-east-bay-hills-loop.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-60847657851198995912014-01-22T23:15:00.001-08:002014-01-22T23:21:33.947-08:00Channeling Carol Brady<a href="http://a.abcnews.com/images/Entertainment/abc_brady_hair_1_jef_ss_120914_ssh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://a.abcnews.com/images/Entertainment/abc_brady_hair_1_jef_ss_120914_ssh.jpg" height="247" width="320"></a>I had a frightening moment while I was washing the dishes tonight. I was revisiting a conversation I'd had earlier in the evening, when I damn near dropped the scrubby brush.<br>
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<b>Holy crap, am I channeling Carol Brady?</b><br>
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I quickly realized that it wasn't possible. And I have a bullet list to prove it:<br>
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<li>Carol Brady wouldn't have had a scrubby brush to drop. The kitchen sink was clearly Alice's turf. </li>
<li>I am not raising a herd of polyester-clad kids. </li>
<li>That much polyester would make me chafe at every physical joint of my body. </li>
<li>Who in the hell names a dog after a cat anyway?</li>
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Proof. I have not been sucked into a mental parental <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brady_bunch" target="_blank"><i>Brady Bunch </i></a>vortex.<br>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>(And now, a word from our sponsor. <br> Dearest twitchy grammar nerds: <br> I fully realize the above list is not of parallel construction, but making it so <br> would bust the story's groove, so get outta my editorial grill.<br> Hugs, Me)</i></span></span></blockquote>
Yet, there's the instance that brought me to this startling start. <br>
<a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/01/channeling-carol-brady.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-25966032293760492242014-01-02T10:00:00.000-08:002014-01-22T23:16:38.061-08:00Timing and Cookies at the NICUThere's something about timing. It's all in the timing. Call it chance, call it God, call it source energy, call it coincidence, call it what you want.<br>
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Each year, @ and I make and decorate holiday cookies. We eat a few, but I take the rest to the parents at the neonatal intensive care unit where @ spent his first Christmas. I include a letter with his picture, telling our story then and now. </div>
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This year, I made the cookies, bagged them in tidy sets of three, wrote the letter, and... didn't take them to the hospital on the 23rd as I'd originally planned. And I just plain ran out of time on Christmas Eve with work, dinner with friends, and a candle-lighting service. On Christmas we headed up to my dad's for a few days.</div>
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The cookies waited patiently.</div>
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On Sunday, TG and I ran errands, finishing with a trip to the hospital. As we were waiting to give the cookies to the receptionist, I offered a bag of cookies to a couple that was leaving.<br>
</div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2014/01/nicu-timing.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-2508241130967276732013-12-29T21:33:00.000-08:002014-01-22T23:16:38.059-08:00It Ain't Easy Being Grinchy<span style="color: #274e13;"><b>"Bah humbug" used to come more easily.</b></span><br>
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For several years, I "celebrated" the holiday season by defending the rights of those people who didn't celebrate Christmas and were otherwise unamused by the seemingly obligatory ho-ho-ho-dum foisted upon us by retail giants of the universe. <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I wrote annual missives about drunk elves crashing stolen sleighs, <a href="http://sfspca.org/" target="_blank">SPCA</a> sanctions against reindeer breeders, and other snark. </span></div>
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You still won't catch me caroling in my living room, unless it's in attempt to drown out the <a href="http://www.aetv.com/duck-dynasty" target="_blank">Duck Dynasty</a> holiday CD that X "hilariously" sent home with @. I don't flinch (much) when @ puts a Santa hat on my head. My holiday letters have undergone significant snark removal. And although @ is far past believing in Santa, you won't hear him admit it. </div>
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Earlier this month, I had an assignment: Write about the Connected Santa program. I found it an amusing request, despite my gradual but significant holiday-letter snark reduction.<br>
</div></div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2013/12/it-ain-easy-being-grinchy.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8444704088649781464.post-75167059338531961732013-12-18T22:36:00.000-08:002013-12-18T22:37:31.723-08:00Facebook Is Shrinking My WorldI have that damned <a href="http://www.disney.com/" target="_blank">Disney</a> song in my head. Because apparently, <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=it's+a+small+world" target="_blank">it's a small world</a> after all.<br>
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Here I was, minding my own business going through my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> feed. Well, actually, I guess going through my Facebook feed means I'm minding everyone else's business. Unless I'm only reading my own posts, which is either freakishly boring or narcissistic. But I wasn't, so I don't have to decide between the two. </div>
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Anyway... My friend Christine posted a cool new profile picture doing a yoga pose that, should I attempt it, would likely result in damaged furniture and a bloody nose (mine). The usual "<a href="http://muppet.wikia.com/wiki/Kermit_the_Frog" target="_blank">Kermit the Frog</a> and 22 other people commented on this post" message was with the post.<br>
</div><a href="https://wordjanitor.blogspot.com/2013/12/facebook-is-shrinking-my-world.html#more"></a>Wordjanitorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05543060611110942446noreply@blogger.com0