Villagers

Today is Martin Luther King Jr.'s day. He had a dream, and so do I. My dream is to have a kind village where ever you are. This morning, I hop into my batmobile for a quick swim at the pool, before dashing over to discuss a concept with fellow villagers. The concept is simple. Help fellow villagers when you can how you can.

Having lived in a country for a couple of decades, where most 15-year-olds are taller than I am, in affluent neighborhoods where some people assume I am the nanny (and what's wrong with nannies? My kids wouldn't be who they are without the help of wonderful nannies), I am surprised at the prejudices and presumptions that trap people into isolation.

This morning, I chatted with a friend who tells me she stopped going to the local park with her grandchildren, because the younger moms (who all look like Barbie) turned their backs to her when she was chatting with them. She felt rejected because she was too old. Just because you don't wear a blonde pony tail and wear size 2 designer jeans, doesn't mean you're worthless for goodness' sake!

Beating the odds

My husband has a strange race going with time, especially when it comes to catching a plane. I arrive at the airport 2 and a half hours before a flight, and relax with a book in hand, basking in the satisfying reassurance of having a seat number attached to my ticket. My husband, thrives on the adrenalin rush that accompanies not knowing whether he'll miss his flight or not. When we travel together, he matches my style, as there is much to pay for if he doesn't. Tonight he is on his own. I offer to deposit him at the airport. He has ambitious plans of swimming some laps, going to his office, and visiting a neighbor who has just had hip surgery before hopping on the plane - all within 2 hours before schedule take off. The drive down to SFO is a nail-biting, lip-biting trip. "You are going to miss the flight", I almost say. But, experience has made him good at this race. He beats his record sprint to the check-in counter, while I wait at the curb in case he fails. As a police car aims a light beam at me to move on, my phone rings. "I'm on! See you soon."

I wave to the police officer and head home, stopping by to pick up milk, eggs, and jam on the way. My remote oven, aka daughter, has the chicken roasting with mushrooms and carrots. We sit down for dinner, my daughter in her father's seat, imitating his love/hate relationship with cheese. Something tells me her father's hope of losing weight on this trip will not be answered. Switzerland and France are not exactly cheese-free, after all.

Happy New Year!

It's a new year and a new decade, a new start with lots of "1"s in front. Despite the drizzle this morning of 1/1/11, I take a plunge in the pool for my first few laps of the year, and feel mighty proud. As I see the raindrops hit the surface from below, there is a sense of calm that surrounds me. This year is going to be a good one. I know this because everyone I meet says so. Attitude is everything. When everyone says it's going to be good, well... it's going to be good.

As we visit friends and neighbors this evening, I hear the best line of the year. I don't know if you know, but I live in Marin County which is rumored to be the richest county in America on a per capita basis. Tonight I learn that it has the highest APA in the country as well. I think hard, but cannot figure it out. So, I have to ask what an APA is. I should have known. APA = asshole per acre. Happy New Year everyone!

December

December is a tough month for many. Closing that last deal, taking finals, trips here and there, buying gifts, etc. etc. Take a moment to relax and inhale...better yet, get a wuppa and take it to bed. www.mywuppa.com

You have to love technology. The website was put together by my co-founder and chief marketing officer/chief technology officer aka my son, who is 11-years-old and the future! No wonder we stagnate.

December is the month for parties - one of which I had on my calendar for tonight, but wasn't... My poor neighbor that I had promised to pick up -- harassed by phone calls and then a persistent ringing of doorbells, who kindly informs me the event is Sunday not tonight. Aghhhh!!!

So, I drive home and pop a wuppa into the microwave, and voila!! Wuppa life!

Patience

Sometimes I feel that Patience is my middle name. Especially tonight... After a couple of decades of being a mother and a wife, this past year is practically the first where I have not been a working mom. Let me rephrase that. It's the first year that I have worked this hard, and not been paid anything meaningful for the work.

Much as I love my new lifestyle and the brain training that accompanies the process of building something new that is meaningful to me and (dare I say?) the world, it puts me face-to-face with the mundane. In between the cleaning, laundry, cooking, taking care of the kids, and generally attempting to keep my family happy and at peace, I am also an entrepreneur in the making. Just because I have eight arms and a dozen eyes, and bottomless compassion for mankind and the universe, doesn't mean there is no limit to patience. My cooking may not look great tonight, but it actually tastes exponentially better than anything I have seen my better half cook in a long, long time. But a meaningful shrug of the Gallic shoulders and an expressive lift of the eyebrows have set me off. In addition, my rebellion-hormone-filled daughters and their remarks tops it.

So, here I am sitting in front of my PC with my headsets on - signalling to the world that I WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE - listening to music that soothes the soul.
My sister would be proud to learn that I am listening to her favorite band.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OPf_cs1JYk&feature=related

Patience to the world. Amen.

11 lbs

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
My 11 lbs turkey was a big success, thanks to a decade of training. The organic turkey was brined in garlic, onion and salt water overnight, then patted dry, stuffed with apples and potatoes and 4 hours later....voila!

(must insert photo here)

The turkey is now gone - nobody had time to complain about leftovers. Despite the fact that my friend, who was born weighing in as much as our turkey (kudos to her mom!), did not participate in eating the bird (early childhood trauma of pet chicken appearing on dinner table), we managed to clean it all out in two meals. One thing for sure - turkey makes you sleepy. I have slept like a baby this long weekend.

Thanks to Lynn who told me about a book called The Secret Life of the Grown-up Brain, I now know that my brain is doing exactly what it should be doing at its stage in life. Our brains may not be as quick as younger brains, but they are wiser (unless you cannot outgrow your self-centered self, in which case, you simply turn into an old fool). I take comfort in this knowledge, and vow to be more empathetic to others.

So, this morning, I drive my son to the SF Music Conservatory, and wait in the van for an hour reading up on the Male Brain, which explains a lot of stuff, that I already knew (except I now know they can't help it).

The Economy is Recovering

Today, my gut instinct tells me that we are in recovery mode. This morning, we ran out of milk, and so I decide it's time to go to Costco. After working on a presentation, I take a 30-minute plunge in the local pool, and then drive north. Costco is packed as I have never seen before. I sense that everyone is tired of being penny pinching. They are carefully splurging, which is very different from simply splurging. Even I opt for an organic turkey which costs twice as much as a normal hormone-happy turkey.

As I arrive home and chat with a friend about my experience, she says that is exactly what CNBC as saying: people are tired of being stingy. Let's hope we all lift the tide again.