Cross-Country Moving: A Complete Guide to Doing it Without an Ounce of Style.

You might know that we recently sold our house and bought a new one in record time. Sure, we did some things right: purging our home of clutter, staging it and even getting creative by attempting to sell it on Twitter (which got us on local TV, a real hoot!). Many other things just fell into place, seemingly like magic: we found our (gorgeously restored, 100-year-old) dream house quickly, the sellers were motivated and ready to deal, and my husband’s company even let him transfer territories and generously supported the move.

Amazingly, we conquered the most-dreaded parts of moving quite easily. Maybe even with a little pinch of style.

Unfortunately, that’s when Style left the building, leaving us to muddle through the rest of the process as best we could.

Here’s a helpful little guide on how to anticipate the pain of moving, add some salt to the wound, and really rub it in.

1. First, ensure that there is a good length of time between real estate closings during which you’ll be completely homeless. A couple of weeks, minimum. That way, you can either live in a hotel and make daily trips to the laundromat (I’d suggest washing your delicates in the bathtub), or move in with family or friends. It’s a toss-up on which is more stressful, but at least with the former you might emerge with familial relationships still intact.
2. 

   The containers are delivered.

   Because you’ll have to store all your worldly possessions while homeless, you’ll conclude that using a container-based shipping and storage solution (such as U-Haul’s U-Box) is best. And it is. Just remember to forget to measure your furniture. This way, you’ll have the fun of discovering that the containers are too small for several important pieces of furniture, right there in your driveway. From there, you can become proficient at selling furniture to neighbors, friends and mildly weird strangers on craigslist and Facebook. I love learning new things on the fly!

3. When you are finally packed and the U-Boxes have been U-hauled away, you must now fit everything else into your car. (Including your prized, gigantic jade plant and Christmas cactus, which you’ll end up stuffing into a cardboard box and praying they survive the trip.) This will feel a little like Mission: Impossible, but trust me, you will channel your inner geometry whiz and triumph, tucking things into every nook and cranny. Just remember to strap the kids into their seats before they lose them to a box of essentials from your kitchen junk drawer.
4. You’re not quite ready to drive away. First, you’ll belatedly discover that because no one wanted to buy your 24-foot aluminum extension ladder, you must strap it on top of the minivan. Yes, that’s right. You’ll not only be traveling across the country in a dented, sticky minivan — but it will be topped with a huge ladder that makes a whistling sound while the car is in motion. You’ll realize you look just like a pack of nomadic, hillbilly house painters. And that is precisely when you know you won’t be traveling in style. Excellent!
   

   View from the driver's seat. Note ladder placement for optimal whistling.

5. Your first night in a nice hotel should include a quick trial run of the 911 emergency system. Have one of your kids volunteer for this task within ten minutes of your arrival — he or she is unlikely to be arrested or fined, and all she’ll get is a stern warning from the hotel manager. You’ll then enjoy an evening featuring Lost Pool Privileges, with plenty of whining and pouting.

6. The next morning at closing, things will go deceptively well. You will have resigned yourself to the whole ladder-on-the-car look (even perfecting your “Yeah, what about it?” sneer for passersby), and the buyers will be really nice people, fun to talk to while you merrily sign your lives away together. But don’t worry. Afterwards, your husband will discover he’s locked both sets of keys in the car, and he’ll delay your actual departure time by an hour and a half. At lunchtime with two hungry, bored, spazzy kids.

7. After a full day on the road, you’ll arrive quite late for your second night in a hotel, but this one will be unexpectedly crummy. You’ll have to unpack the whole van to access your suitcases, because you didn’t even think of packing a small overnight bag. Then you will drag your luggage and tired children at least a half mile to the hotel’s front entrance because of a lack of parking. Even though the place has obviously been redecorated recently, you know it’s only a surface update because your sink refuses to drain properly, opting instead to leak all over the bathroom floor. Because you are in Omaha during the College World Series, you’ll be forced to stay in the room and brush your teeth in the bathtub.
8. The next few weeks of homelessness will go by in a blur, mostly because you’re intensely paranoid about pissing off your very kind, very generous relations. (Of course, being in Minnesota, any friction is under the surface and expertly denied even when directly questioned, so… I don’t know, that might be even worse.) You’ll become annoyingly chipper in the mornings, unbelievably helpful around the house, and extremely irritable with your small children, who relish opportunities to evenly distribute their toys and belongings throughout every available living space.
9. Your 14th wedding anniversary will slip by, uncelebrated, except for when your husband reminds you that “he” is buying “you” a house, because “he” is a “shit” that way sometimes. Because the bank didn’t even give a hoot about having you co-sign anything at all, you’ll get depressed all over again about your undersized financial contributions to the household in recent years — never mind that you’ve raised two wonderfully smart and delightful little girls, without ever losing your temper, not even once. (Okay, that part was a lie. The girls are not always delightful.)

So there you have it. My smattering of tips for a properly painful, drawn-out move. I’m sure you have some to add to the list, don’t you? Do tell!

My bratty eyes want the ocean back.

My eyes are still seeing palm trees, ocean and sand.

Thing is, we’re back home after a wonderful trip to Florida — and it’s mountains as far as the eye can see. I know that sounds completely bratty — oh, it’s so hard living here next to the majestic Rocky Mountains! I want the ocean, too! And while you’re at it, could you also bring me a Corona? With a lime?

*Sigh.* Maybe the ocean does have a hypnotic effect, after all.

It’s just that these eyes got really, really used to all that blue water. And of course the rest of my senses were digging the scene: the sound of the palm trees in the wind, the waves crashing as they incessantly rearranged the beach, depositing new treasures to discover. (Most of the smells were fine, too.)

But if I’m going to be completely honest, it’s my skin that’s really going to miss the ocean. My overly dry, aging, spotty, wrinkly, still-in-my-thirties-but-barely skin.

If you don’t live in Denver, you may not know it’s considered high desert. (Or “high dessert,” as my dear friend Lynn likes to say, just to get my goat.) At any rate, it’s dry. The kind of dry where if you spill water on yourself on your way to work, you can be pretty sure it’ll dry before you get there. And irritatingly, when you move here from a more humid climate like I did, you have to change all your personal care products — dial them all up to maximum moisture. Your hands and feet, in particular, require ridiculous amounts of A-number-one moisturizer. I’m talking the good stuff. (I knew I hadn’t found “the good stuff” when my two-year-old said my fingers gave her cheeks “owies” when I gently stroked them. The perils of dry skin!)

But in Florida, you don’t even need lotion. Sunscreen, yes, Lotion… not so much. You can gleefully run your fingers over any fabric without fear of snagging it. You can take a night off from the eye cream regimen. You can even squeeze your daughter’s chubby cheeks without drawing blood. I’m telling you, it’s fabulous!

So maybe my vacation re-entry day was a little rough. (About as rough as my hands will soon be, guaranteed.) After all, we just spent a week with some of the people we love most in the world — and had to say goodbye, which we always hate. Plus, who likes doing 17 loads of laundry in one day?

I know that slowly we’ll get back into our routines, and we’ll have our ocean memories to savor.

Underdog: Indignities at the swings.

Lately, I’m all about taking back my life from the irresistible, wild-blue yonder that is social media. From Facebook to Twitter and everything in between, I have GOT to get a grip and re-engage more fully with the lovely people in my “real” life.

So yesterday afternoon, I herded the girls outside to the swingset for some fresh air before dinner (pointedly leaving my iPhone inside, sad and alone on the ktichen counter). Once I got both girls swinging, my six-year-old begged for an Underdog.

Swinging on a better day.

Now. Everyone knows that, for maximum effect and thrill, a true Underdog requires that the pusher, upon delivering a mighty push, must run directly underneath the swinger and emerge victoriously on the other side. If you don’t, you’re just a dirty cheater and it’s not a real Underdog.

Being a fairly coordinated, athletic gal, I wasn’t worried. After all, I’ve performed many a spectacular, shriek-inducing Underdog. I just didn’t know that on this day, the shrieks would come from me.

Yes, I’m afraid I sustained an injury pushing my daughters on the swings. I know, can you even believe it?

If I could just paint you a picture here, you might understand the ridiculous chain of events that led to me falling to the ground, clutching my hamstring and trying not to land in any deer poop. (God knows this would have been priceless video.)

Let me break it down for you:

1. If you have ever attempted an Underdog, you know that timing is critical. I had begun my running push, had Olivia high above my head and was about to duck under when…
2. My hands slipped off her back, causing her to fall directly onto my face as I tripped.
3. The force of her falling snapped my head backward — so my knees buckled, my face and chin got scraped by the seat of the swing, and…
4. I crumpled in a heap of intense pain, embarrassment (OMG, are there any adult witnesses?) and, after a bit, hysterical laughter.

It’s a good thing that I heal fast. (Although for the record, I am limping today.) And it’s even better that I am so freakishly good at laughing at myself. If I were someone who truly feared looking stupid, I might not ever set foot in my backyard again. Nor would I ever again interact with the neighbors whose yards face mine.

However, being extremely well-practiced in the area of Looking Foolish (see any of a number of painful 1980s photos of me floating around the internet), I figure I can handle this. It’s probably a good idea to reacquaint myself with the feeling, anyway… I have a hunch that turning 40 this year will bring sandboxes full of indignities my way, whether I’m ready for them or not.

I say, bring ‘em on!

What Can You Learn About Life (& Business) From Two Tiny Yoginis?

You know those rare periods — in your household, your work, your life — where things somehow hum along smoothly, defying all your expectations? We occasionally experience this kind of harmony at our house… very occasionally. Take a look:

"Double Down Dog"

Last week, my mother-in-law sent my girls a really cute set of kid yoga cards (Barefoot Books’ Yoga Pretzels), where the poses (many of them for partners) are illustrated and give some basic information. While I tippety-tapped on the computer, the little buggers ripped right into them and got down to business.

They were like little circus performers — the big one would read the card, and issue instructions to the small one. The small one would speedily and happily comply, doing exactly as she was told. Then they’d break the pose and scurry back to find another one to try, over and over. I’ve never seen them so focused on something together — and I was shocked at their capacity to study, understand and replicate each pose. (I think plenty of adults would have trouble with this!)

No, I don’t think they’re on their way to yoga fame, or to full-time ashram living. But as I look back on that afternoon, I recognize that I could learn a few things from my tiny yoginis:

• When good leaders know how to motivate those they lead, they can accomplish great things. The big one knew that to get her little sister’s cooperation, it had to be fun. She used her best big-sister voice, coaxing and coaching her along, and gave her her full attention. And when they triumphed, they celebrated together — dancing, hugging, giggling.
• Embracing your place in the world — rather than railing against it — creates harmony. The little one knew full well she couldn’t be the leader in this game. In fact, she’s pretty used to accepting the big one’s authority on nearly everything. Their sister hierarchy will surely change as they get older and develop their own interests, but for a few moments there, everything was clicking.
• Learning can happen in the unlikeliest of places. Whether it’s kids learning about the world by stretching on a yoga mat, or mommies learning, stretching and growing in cyberspace — it pays to stay open and ready.

You never know where your newly acquired knowledge might take you.

Celebrating together.

Tagged: Ten Things You Never Really Wanted to Know About Me.

The inevitable finally happened. I’ve been tagged.

Is this some sort of rite of passage for beginning bloggers? Maybe.

So, because I like and respect my tagger so much (copywriter/marketer extraordinaire Allison Nazarian), I’ll go ahead and respond. But, because I have a really hard time believing my “stuff” is all that interesting to anyone bored enough to read it — I’m going to rename my list. Instead of “Ten Honest Traits About Me,” I think I’ll call it “Ten Things You Never Really Wanted to Know About Me.” Please be my guest and enjoy. Or not. Either way, I appreciate you making it this far into the third paragraph. Ahem…

1. I was born and raised outside of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I LOVE Wisconsin. It’s a gorgeous place. Yes, it’s chilly in the winter. Yes, we have breweries there. And cows and brats and cheeseheads and Packers and Badgers and an overabundance of heavyset folks. But we also have the western shores of Lake Michigan and tens of thousands of other lakes, amazing natural resources, and great cities and little towns. As a displaced Midwesterner (I now live outside of Denver), I would like to say that I’m appalled at the way some people on both coasts seem to believe that nothing worthwhile happens in between said coasts. That kind of “arrogance of place” feels shortsighted to me. I think it’s important to be empathetic, and imagine life in another’s shoes — and to realize that so much glorious living is going on outside of our own personal bubbles. And besides, I just heard a trendspotter say that Chicago is the city to watch in 2009! (I love Chicago, too…)
2. Speaking of Badgers, I was a college cheerleader for our football and basketball teams. Yep, it’s true. This is a little factoid I don’t often reveal about myself, because of the stereotypes that usually float into people’s heads (and I have always been about challenging stereotypes… it’s in my DNA). The truth is, being a varsity cheerleader for a Big Ten university is about the most fun you can possibly have in college. Best “seats” in the house at major sporting events, traveling with the team, performing with a world-renowned, kick-ass marching band, getting a behind-the-scenes look at Big Ten athletics… not to mention Saturday-morning Bucky Wagon runs around campus, Fifth Quarter at home football games, and just being a part of something so steeped in tradition, so much bigger than yourself. It was a great experience at a great university… and I still have dreams of being tossed high into the hair, flipping, hearing the crowd gasp. Then I wake up and think, “What a rush!”
3. I am wild about Honeycrisp apples.
4. Speaking of coasts, I have never lived in NYC, but it’s always been my dream. I moved to Minneapolis after college for a peon-tastic advertising job, and spent all of my twenties there. And loved it. Another wonderful, vibrant, interesting place.
5. I LOVELOVELOVE my strong, morning cappuccino. I make it at home, but when I go to a coffee shop, here is how I order it: “Non-fat, DRY cappuccino, (select size here).” I have educated many a barista on how to correctly prepare a DRY cappuccino — two or three shots of espresso, a tiny splash of steamed milk (very tiny), plenty of foam. If you put too much milk in it, you might as well order a latte. (They know me by sight at the Starbucks in SuperTarget. They might run and hide when they see me, but they know me!)
6. As far as birth stories go, mine aren’t very exciting. Despite all genetic evidence to the contrary (my sisters and mom all had relatively straightforward, easy-ish births), I ended up with two c-sections. After the birth of my first daughter (Olivia, now 6 and three-quarters, if you ask her), I was determined to have a VBAC with #2. I read everything ever written on the subject, hired a doula, changed docs midway through the pregnancy (high rate of VBACs), studied natural childbirth books and — after 48 hours of labor, STILL had a c-section. Deep sigh. I’ve worked very hard to focus on the safe arrival of my darling girls, and not on my “failed” attempts to give birth the old-fashioned way… but there’s a part of me that really wishes I could experience that. Still makes me a little teary if I think too hard about it!
7. I have a high tolerance for messes. Ask my husband, a genetic freak of nature who spends an inordinate amount of time organizing and cleaning his spaces (closet, home office, car, garage). I do love his spaces — so neat and clean and organized, they inspire a good, deep breath — but I cannot seem to make myself do the things that must be done in order to have spaces like his. I’m doomed to be a piler forever.
8. When I had my blonde, blue-eyed baby (Ruby, now two-and-a-half, if you ask her), people usually assumed I was her nanny. (Poopy brown hair and eyes for me. Except when I pay for highlights. Then it’s fabulous poopy brown.)
9. I am ridiculously excited about chaperoning my daughter’s class trip to the 101st Annual National Western Stock Show next week. Apparently this is a huge part of Colorado’s Western heritage, and I have never gone before. I don’t know if we’ll get to see a real rodeo, or if we’re just going to walk around and look at prize-winning farm animals. Either way, two 45-minute rides on a yellow school bus with scores of rowdy first-graders will surely pale in comparison to the Stock Show. I’ll let you know about our adventures!
   

   Umm, I believe this child is trying to ride a sheep longer than his or her fellow competitors. I hope they don't make me do that. (Photo courtesy NWSS)

10. I’m a shameless plugger! I’m now a featured contributor for www.TwitterMoms.com (doing the TwitterMom of the Week feature), and www.WorkingMomLifeline.com/on-ramp (writing a column for on-ramping moms headed back to work). I’ve also just begun my professional copywriting blog/site, http://leaswenson.com (Lea Writes). Still working on that one… stay tuned for writing samples, regular posts on copywriting and social media, and testimonials!

Okay, I think this is where I’m supposed to tag a few favorite bloggers and shout crazily, “You’re it!” But I think a lot of you have done these things before, so… if you prefer, I’d be happy with a comment from you, nothing more. And maybe just point me to your latest “things about me” post, so I can learn more about you!

Suzy Q Homemaker: I got to feature Lizzie as a TwitterMom of the Week, and I love her blog and her spirit. Check it out!

RetroHeather: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — Heather is a total stitch, and you really must read her blog. She is a hee-yooge inspiration to me, especially in the way she points out the comically ridiculous in everyday life.

MommyBits: I’m just beginning to know Shannan through TwitterMoms, and look forward to more great things from her blogs (including Cincinnati Women Bloggers, which she founded). She has 3 little boys, which I simply can’t imagine!

Writing Roads: After all she’s done for me, I have no business bugging Julie again — but as long as we’re talking inspiration here, she is a must-mention! A fun and dynamic writer, speaker, coach, mentor and social media expert.

TravelSavvyMom: Jamie is a fellow featured contributor over on TwitterMoms, and a travel writer specializing in family travel. Not only does she give fantastic travel tips, but she is also hilarious! I look forward to getting to know her on Twittermoms.

Post-holiday card regrets

I know there’s no law stating you must send out a holiday card every year. But knowing how fun it is to see how everyone else’s kids are growing, I usually succumb to this holiday pressure.

Tilt your head to view our holiday cards. I've wasted an hour of my life trying to rotate this pic, and have given up!

But this year was different:

• I was slammed with a (very welcome) freelance project.
• My car’s engine light — having been on for nearly a week — finally prompted me to bring it in for some holiday cheer: we now qualify for a brand-new transmission! We struggled all week with the dilemma — do you dump $2,000 into a car worth $3,000?
• For some reason, I felt it was critical to make gifts of chocolate bark with pumpkin seeds, sour dried cherries and roasted pistachios for babysitters, teachers, family and friends.
• Oh yeah, and a triple batch of Swedish pepparkakor with piped icing for my daughter’s Around the World dessert bash at school. (And I’m not even the Swedish one! I’m an American mutt: half English-Irish-Welsh-Scottish-Dutch-German, half Italian-Polish.)
• I had to pack for a cross-country holiday road trip with my family. Emergency kit? Check. Enough food & water to sustain us if we slid into a snowdrift and weren’t dug out for a week? Check. Entertainment options for all? Check. Christmas gifts, including those secret and magical ones from Santa, to remain hidden at all costs? Check. Plenty of darling outfits for my two young girls, who normally prefer the Mismatched & Weather-Inappropriate Collection by Homeless Harry? Check.
• We’ve just lived through a year without a commission check. While we’re very grateful to be gainfully employed while so many people are being laid off and losing all their savings (not to mention their homes), it’s been a bit of an adjustment. So if I’m going to go out of my way to save $1 on laundry detergent, you know I’m going to think twice about spending $200 on holiday cards, postage, etc.

So, I made up my mind not to do the paper cards this year, opting for an e-version instead. And I felt great about it. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I was also making an eco-responsible choice. Such a good, green, tree-hugger I am! (Never mind that it was the bulleted list above that drove my decision. Details!)

The Swenson 2008 E-Card.

But, now home from our long trip, this morning over coffee I had the pleasure of going through our mail from last week. Have you ever read ALL of your Christmas/holiday cards ALL at one time, without stopping? It felt like a trip down memory lane. As I tore open envelopes, saving those with return addresses I thought I might be missing, I held each card and letter — some bright and shiny, others hip and sophisticated, some quite funny — and I thought of each person who had taken the time and effort to send these beautiful greetings to us. One came from a friend who has been battling lymphoma all year, and its good news of remission brought me to tears.

That’s about when the gratitude hit me.

As “The Wonder Pets” blare in the family room for my happy, mismatched girls with bellies full of Honey Nut Cheerios, I am grateful for my family and friends. I am grateful for our beautiful home. I am grateful for my sweet, hard-working husband and best friend of nearly 16 years.

I’m grateful, and I’m looking forward to the new year and all it brings. For at the end of 2009, I get to read what the year has brought to those I love.

And this time, I think I’ll stimulate the economy and send a real, recycled paper card from the Swensons, too.

“Tooting” About the New DIA Toy Store.

I say “toot,” but maybe it’s more of a honk — anyway, it hardly matters at Kazoo & Co., the incredible new toy store at Denver International Airport (Concourse B, upper mezzanine level). The place is a feast for the eyes (hello, parents with a long layover and bored kids), and a great place to pick up that “little something” you promised your offspring. High quality, creative toys… definitely worth checking out.

Kazoo & Co. at Denver International Airport, Concourse B/Mezzanine Level

Why am I bothering to write about this new place to spend your money? Well, Kazoo & Co. happens to be owned by one of my favorite people (and entrepreneurs) in the world, Amanda Waters. After many years of success in the cheerleading uniform business (I believe she was VP of sales), Mandy took a step back and re-evaluated.

It wasn’t long before an entrepreneur was born. Her first venture at DIA, Four Seasons Jewelry & Gifts (located just a few doors down from Kazoo & Co. in Concourse B), began as a concept designed to “celebrate the beauty of nature and allow travelers to take some of that beauty home with them.” I love her space — it’s well-designed and actually relaxing (thanks to the stone wall/water feature), and they take great care of their customers.

Anyway, I had to toot. (My six-year-old would giggle at that one.) Best of luck to you, Mandy! Your hard work and dedication to making your vision a reality are an inspiration to me.  –LCS

My Twitter addiction… the social-media learning just never ends.

So have you been on Twitter? I’ve been “on” it for quite awhile now, but just recently have begun to really get hooked. For a long time in my social media catch-up journey, it was all about Facebook for me. And now, my friends, I’m afraid it’s Twitter.

I’ll admit it: at first I didn’t really get it. What could I say of relative importance in 140 characters or less? And even more perplexing, who on God’s green earth would want to read it? It seemed weird to me, so I walked away from “micro-blogging” for awhile.

But after getting set up and engaged on Twittermoms — an offshoot community of “moms who tweet” that I really enjoy — I came back. There had to be more to this than first met my eye. I started searching for people to follow, and did a little research.

What I’ve Learned About Twitter

I soon realized that what you tweet about doesn’t necessarily have to be “important” or ground-breaking. Scores of Twitterers are out there tweeting about what they just ate, how a hangover feels, walking their dogs, parenting, triathlon training, you name it. And their followers are merrily replying to those tweets, having a great time.

But there are scores of others who are really workin’ it, trying to tweet their way to business success: “Check out my new post!” and “Look at our awesome products!” and “Visit our website!” (Yes, I’m one of the guilty ones, out there promoting my writing.) And that’s NOT a bad thing, by the way.

But listen: I’m only following 76 people so far — and they all seem like fabulous folks. But I have to say that I am sort of inundated by the volume of information I’m seeing on a daily basis. How do you suppose a business can hope to stand out from the crowd?

Turns out, there is an art to Twitter. “No, REALLY?” you might say, sarcastically, rolling your eyes. (If you know me, you realize that even though I’m late to the social media party — I was busy having babies, living under a rock for a bit there — I am making up for lost time as I on-ramp back to life as a freelance copywriter. Have you seen my latest On-Ramp article on WorkingMomLifeline.com? I am shameless.)

At ANY rate (sheesh), I’ve compiled Six Twitter Tips for Business that you can either a.) read and consider, or b.) skip over in favor of a bathroom break. I’m OK with either. Here we go:

1. Blogging and other forms of social media are all about sharing with and helping each other. (You know, being “social.”) So make sure you only tweet about yourself (or your products & services) about 50% of the time if you can help it. (I learned this one from a great, free teleseminar put on by Zable Fisher Public Relations.) Along those same lines, participate in the process — check out others’ links, and let them know what you think about them. It’s a reciprocal thing.
2. When you’re not talking about your business, you can “re-tweet” others’ ideas or posts — to build your community and share ideas that are not purely self-promotional, and, according to a great NYT article by Sarah Milstein, to show respect for people in your field. You see this all the time in tweets that start with “Re-tweeting @someone’s name” or “RT @name.” (Thanks to social media expert Amy Pearre Dunn for pointing me to the article!)
3. One of the Twitter experts on the Zable Fisher call, Julie Roads, emphasizes that you should “be authentic.” This is how you can stand out from other commercial Twitterers — develop and use your own real voice, not your sales-y one. Make the product/service message almost secondary — a “soft sell.” (When you’re winning new followers at a rate of 50 per day like Julie, you’re doing something right.)
4. Another of Ms. Milstein’s tips: “Engage customers. Run contests, solicit feedback and thank customers for supportive messages.” Makes sense: we all love a chance to win a freebie, we really love to be asked for advice, and we reallyreallyreally love to feel like we’re not a number. “What, you noticed me and my little direct message?” Win friends and influence people!
5. Chris Brogan, perhaps the original Social Media Maven, posted 50 Ideas on Using Twitter for Business back in August. I loved #18: “Share the human side of your company. If you’re bothering to tweet, it means you believe social media has value for human connections. Point us to pictures and other human things.” Hear, hear!
6. And Mr. Brogan’s #48: “Twitter gives your critics a forum, but that means you can study them.” And even respond to them — many companies are successfully using Twitter as a customer service tool, like Comcast and Dell.

That’s about all this beginning blogger can manage for today. As I read back over this post, I realize it’s like one Giant Re-Tweet. So as long as I’m tweeting, I should probably take my own (re-tweeted) advice and pay homage to our human connections via social media. How about a Halloween picture of my kids?

Hope that’ll do for now. Looking forward to your comments… take care.  –LCS

Ms. Steinem in our midst, and it’s a MAN getting us all verklempt?

Actually, yes. And he was just darling. I’ll get to him in a minute.

But first let me say that last Thursday night, I was lucky enough to hear Gloria Steinem speak in a small community center in Littleton, Colorado (I guess it’s one advantage to living in a battleground state). I won’t pretend to know her work very well (I’m more of a thirtysomething feminist wannabe than the real deal). But I do know a legend and a hero when I meet one.

(I got to shake her hand! Shakily. I was a little starstruck.)

But no need — what an even, calming presence. Under a low-key (but chic) exterior, Ms. Steinem exuded warmth to every human in the room. All the way to the back. In fact, those in the back kept creeping forward, listening carefully to her every word.

In a way, it was a shame that a show of hands revealed a roomful of early voters — and Obama supporters, at that. (Yay! Woo-hoo!) After all, as Ms. Steinem noted, “This is the first election in my lifetime in which people aren’t just choosing to vote. They’re fighting to vote.” Chills down every spine, without a doubt.

But she took it in stride, and instead framed the evening a different way: by giving us all the task of telling a handful of others who hadn’t voted about what we’d learned that night, whatever it was. (Yes, I should have written this days ago; it’s my civic duty, even if no one reads it but my mom! Love you, Mimi…)

As a sometimes-rabid (and always opinionated) consumer of political news, I admired her grace and seemingly sincere acceptance of all worldviews — but without compromising on what she believes we deserve in our leaders. Like the ability to govern for the greater good, rather than promoting one’s own narrow agenda.

She said something like (and forgive me for very possibly mangling her quote, since I couldn’t scribble fast enough on the two teeny-tiny name tags I was using for paper): “I have no problem with Sarah Palin being a born-again evangelical. I don’t care if someone is pagan. What I care about is whether those beliefs are reflected in their policy and their actions in office.”

Hallelujah! Can I get an ‘amen’? (Just kidding. But I sure did love the way she said that.)

In fact, I loved a lot of things I heard last Thursday. And I’m more convinced than ever that Senator Barack Obama will be a great leader for our times. But while I don’t fool myself into thinking I can really make a “difference” with one blog post, I know I can at least convey a little of the inspiration I felt as I listened.

I mean, here is a 74-year-old woman — an American feminist icon — who has dedicated her life to us, in a way. Here is someone who questioned the status quo, and who dared to speak out publicly. Again and again. I can’t imagine the courage that requires. And now — in this historic election — standing up and pitching in, taking responsibility for clarifying issues that matter to voters, women and men, outside of the political machine. Encouraging people to talk to one another, even if we don’t agree.

Really amazing stuff. And on top of that for me, a great evening spent with an old friend whose political engagement inspires me. We even got to drink wine!

At any rate, I know it’s time to pay off my title and talk about the cute gentleman I mentioned at the top of this post. He was maybe in his 60s, and had been eagerly waiting his turn to speak. As hundreds of female eyes finally turned his way, he stood in his white t-shirt, sweater tossed aside in the heat of our non-air-conditioned space.

All he wanted to say — and you could see he’d been waiting a lifetime to say it — was that Ms. Steinem’s book, “Revolution from Within,” had affected him deeply. He said, “I’ve been wanting to look into your eyes and tell you — that book touched my soul.”

And as he touched his chest for emphasis, obviously choked up, I think we all got a little verklempt. It was an emotional response perfectly appropriate for the occasion… and for the significance of what we’ll be doing this Tuesday in electing a new president.

I just hope that the next time I get that feeling, it’s out of pure jubilation at an Obama victory.

Training Inspiration + Little Brown Mile Markers: Lost and Found

As can sometimes happen, I found myself in a bit of a funk last weekend. After a long week of intense focus on networking, writing and learning new things professionally, I think my brain just shut off in exasperation. On top of that, I’m dealing with a tough situation personally, and all of a sudden the world just didn’t look very rosy anymore. (This is rare for me, an eternal optimist.)

So what to do? Call a sister, of course. (It’s like the Phone a Friend lifeline, only the result is usually an uplifting feeling… no million-dollar jackpots. I’ll take the uplifting any day.)

Sister S. told me I needed to get outside and take a run. Even though it was a gorgeous, sunny fall day, every fiber of my being said, “No! We want to wallow in our misery.” Plus, since the triathlon racing season ended, I have been — hmm, how to say it? — LAZY. But, since it was naptime for the tiny one and my husband was watching my oldest, I dragged myself outside. And not just out my door for an easy 5K neighborhood lap… I somehow persuaded myself to run in nearby Waterton Canyon, a gorgeous place featuring steep, rocky cliffs, a deep, sparkling river, seasonal color and, on that day, a good-sized herd of bighorn sheep on the path.

Photo courtesy singletracks.com

I knew I was in for some pain on this run. After all, it’s all slightly uphill on your way in — just enough to wear you out more quickly than running on flats. I figured I’d run about two miles in, then turn around (I never claimed to be a distance runner) for some lovely downhill running. Only once I got started and pushed past the initial “ugh, am I really doing this?” — I actually started to enjoy myself and pushed on.

With a bright blue sky and cool breeze, I noticed that it was my favorite time of day, when the late-afternoon sun reminds me of honey. Thick and golden. I liked how the steep rock faces framed each new vista as I made my way around a bend. I shared the path with families out for a Sunday hike, mountain bikers pedaling up to the single-track trailhead, and folks carrying fly-fishing gear. Lots of smiling faces… and I truly did my best to smile back through the grimace that’s usually pasted on my face while running. (Have I mentioned it’s the feeling AFTER running that keeps me going?)

Don’t let me fool you. I only noticed all that crunchy natural goodness in between times when I was watching desperately for the next brown mile-marker post. I remember seeing one at Mile One, another at 1.5, and another at Mile Two. Where in blazes was 2.5? I checked my watch, calculating my pace. I’d either missed the last brown post, or someone was playing a dirty, rotten trick on me, a suffering-lapsed-triathlete-who-likes-to-think-she’s-tougher-than-she-is. So now I guess I was striving for the Mile Three marker.

I made a deal with myself: run to the next brown post, then turn around for a blessedly downhill walk back. Surely I could handle that. I focused on my form — leaning forward from the ankles (not the waist), arms bent, swinging forward and back (not side to side), head level, with gaze pointed slightly down. I checked my watch again… okay, thinking about running form took up a staggering thirty seconds. Now what?

Okay, I think, let’s try some intervals. I allowed myself to walk for 30 seconds, then ran hard for a minute or so. Did that, oh, maybe three times. WHERE IS THAT BROWN POST? Wait — is that it, under the tree ahead? Jog steadily, getting closer… no, that’s actually the tree trunk I’m seeing. Am I that wiped, that I could forget how the skinny vertical shape under a canopy of leaves is usually a trunk? Pathetic.

Of course, I finally reached the fabled brown post. I have never been so happy to see a little brown post, I don’t think, ever before in my lifetime. I turned gratefully around and realized I was completely alone on the path. Walking felt like heaven. I took off my ball cap, scrabbled my fingers through my sweaty hair and let the breeze begin to cool me down.

And that’s when I felt it.

“It” being the feeling that I can only describe as “All is Right in the World.” I’m burstingly happy, I see beauty around me, and I feel grateful to be a tiny creature in the world. I appreciate all my relationships, I see goodness in difficult people, and walking feels so good. Can a breeze actually make you feel beautiful? The one I felt that day did. Something about a headwind that makes you squint, even makes your eyes water, as your own two feet propel you down the canyon and your heart rate begins to slow… there’s no other way to explain it. I felt beautiful. (While knowing full well that my puffing physical reality then was oh-so-much-further from it than usual.)

I walked the three miles back to the parking lot and managed to hold onto that feeling for quite awhile. I meditated as I walked, keeping my mind open and free. I’ll admit I was chilly and stiffening up toward the end, but, as any athlete knows, it was a “good sore.” I looked forward to my long, hot shower and some yoga.

Well, that’s it — no keywords, no SEO. Just a little story of how a sister, a run and some brown posts in a spectacular canyon brought me up from a low place… and set me gently upright on the path to find my way again. I’m a lucky girl.