Category Archives: Uncategorized

It’s Off to Work we Go

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A momentous occasion takes place today — Domer enters the working world as an intern.

Ideally, an internship is designed to provide on-the-job training for a young person while they’re still in school. It’s supposed to either reinforce their decision of career field, or lead them down a more suitable path while other options exist.

It’s a Big Deal getting an internship these days. College career centers provide listings and advice, but it’s up to the student to pursue them.

And pursuing them means starting early.

As in first semester.

Domer and his business-major friends would pore over the listings, electronically submitting resumes to whatever company their qualifications matched. They’d do Skype and telephone interviews. They’d even hop on a bus and travel to company headquarters for a day’s worth of interviewing, then bus back to campus.

All this in addition to juggling classes, homework, and other responsibilities.

They’d get their hopes up, to learn someone else got the job they wanted. Or the company decided not to hire an intern after all. Or they got the offer but found it didn’t pay, and by the time they factored in living expenses, it would be more cost-effective to stay home doing nothing.

And they’d start all over again the next day.

Eventually, Domer texted me that he got an internship.

No details. Nada.

‘It’s at a hospital,‘ he said.

Now Domer’s not a big fan of medical stuff. Needles and pain, he can do without. Blood, too.

So I understood his qualms.

‘It’s an internship,’ I reminded him. ‘You don’t have to stay but one summer. And you won’t even know medical stuff is going on because you’ll be doing finance.’

That seemed to perk him up.

He’s had just a week’s “vacation” from school — time to catch up on his video games and reading and golf.

Time to rest. To regroup.

Because for the next several weeks, his classroom will be a place of business.

And he knows he’s one of the lucky ones.

Did you do an internship? Was it worthwhile?

Why don’t Laptops come with Full Instructions?

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The other day my laptop stopped working.

Without advance notification. While I was in the middle of a client’s huge Website redesign project.

Nooooooooooooooooo, I thought. Not now.

I’d been working on it all morning, before putting it into Hibernation mode over the lunch hour. When I returned, it refused start back up.

Oh, I could hear its fan whoosh for a second. Then promptly go quiet.

I unplugged everything and re-plugged. I waited.

Nothing.

In frustration, I called the Geek Squad at Best Buy, hoping some techy person could help. The tech had me turn on this, unplug that, remove the battery. He had me describe in detail the sounds my machine was making. In the end, he said he couldn’t do any more and recommended I haul it back to the store and let them run a full diagnostics to see what the problem was.

Hmmm. I just didn’t want to do that. I’m up to my ears in work right now, and the store is a good hour’s drive away. That means a minimum of two hours drive time, plus who-knows-how-long waiting time.

Fortunately, my machine is still in warranty, so I called toll-free to the company that made it.

After explaining the problem again and detailing the steps I’d already performed for the Geek Squad, this representative asked me which lights were lit. To which I responded, ‘None of them. I’ve unplugged everything in preparation for taking it back to the store.’

He had me plug it back in and Voila! It worked!

Now before you think I’m another computer illiterate, I have to remind you I’ve been running my own Web Design company for eleven years now. I’ve lost count of how many computers — PCs and laptops — I’ve owned, how many lines of computer code I’ve written or corrected, how many computer issues I’ve helped others with.

And while none of us ever knows all there is to know about anything, I rather assumed I knew something about computers.

But I was wrong.

Turns out, leaving a fully charged laptop plugged in and charging makes the battery OVER-charge. It gets hot and bothered, so to speak, and just shuts down.

No bells. No whistles. No red flag. No popup warning.

Nothing. It never started smoking, never felt hot.

Why hadn’t I heard that before? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in the manual that came with my laptop.

Oh, who am I kidding? Maybe it was. I certainly don’t read those things!

So there you have it. Learn from my mistake.

If you usually work on your laptop while it’s plugged in, at least unplug it at night to give the battery a chance to drain (or whatever it is batteries do at night!)

Did you already know this? (And if so, why didn’t you tell me?!?)

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

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When my mom and dad first came to town, they bought a new house in a new subdivision, right in time for them to start raising a family.

One of the trees they purchased to landscape their new yard was a Colorado Blue Spruce.

These evergreens feature lovely silvery, blue-green needles and reach heights of about 100 feet. Their cones are concentrated in the upper branches. New growth in spring is soft; as the seasons progress, the needles become more spiky.

When my folks prepared to move to a new house, they promptly dug the still-small spruce up — root ball and all — and insisted it come along, too. This, despite most people’s opinion that moving an established tree would kill it.

But our tree must have liked its new home, for it not only grew but thrived.

Birds hopped and sang on its branches. Squirrels and rabbits darted underneath it for cover.

It was especially beautiful in the winter months, when snow clung to its limbs and we’d decorate it with Christmas lights — that is, until it got so tall we couldn’t reach the top any more!

The past few years, however, were rough ones for trees of this species. Little by little, we watched our tree’s needles drop (and not grow back). It became scraggly and tired, almost as if it had given up on life.

We consulted an expert, who said the tree had some kind of fungus. He said he could spray it a few times and, if we watered it heavily, it might survive.

Expensive, with no guarantees.

Another local service assured us the tree was dying and wouldn’t pull out of its funk. He said he’d seen trees all over town like ours that had become infected with the fungus and had to be removed.

It’s up to you, he said.

Then we started noticing similar spruces. A neighbor has one that looks as if it got caught in a forest fire; another neighbor cut his tree’s bottom branches as high as he could reach in an effort to remove the dried twigs and stop the fungus from spreading.

Ultimately, we decided to put our blue spruce out of its misery. One day, I took the Sheltie for a walk and by the time I returned, the tree was gone.

Not that it was a long walk. They were just that fast.

Probably sensed how attached we were to the tree. How hard it was going to be to part with it.

We’re trying to grow grass over the bare spot now, but the house still looks odd without that shock of blue. What is it about a tree that evokes such strong feelings in us?

Buggy in the Morning

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You know how groggy you are first thing in the morning? Well, imagine seeing this in your bathroom sink:

House centipede, thanks to University of Nebraska Department of Entomology

No, not this particular centipede, but one very much like it.

And it was moving!

Stifling a scream, I looked around for something, anything, to smash it with. A shoe, a book, a tissue.

Finally I grabbed a scented candle in a glass holder (figured I could wash the bug-juice off that!).

Worked just fine, and I quickly flushed him (or her) down the sink.

Now I don’t know about you, but bugs — particularly prehistoric-looking bugs — give me the willies.

I’m talking about things like centipedes, earwigs, cockroaches, scorpions, that sort of bug.

No, they’re not technically “bugs,” but who cares? They’re pests, they don’t pay rent or house notes, and they don’t belong in my living quarters!

The bad thing about living in the South (besides the hurricanes, of course!) was the proliferation of roaches. Didn’t seem to matter how clean you were, either. And when I lived in Texas we had scorpions to contend with.

Blame the hot weather, which this year they’ve shared with us.

Figures they’d share unpleasant critters, too!

The weather folks have said this probably will be a bad year for pests. Our Midwestern winter, they said, was too easy. Not near enough snow and ice. Too few cold days to kill them all off.

So we’re paying for this mildness with a bucket-load of bugs. Delightful.

Centipedes, in case you were wondering, are nocturnal and typically live under rocks or logs or leaf debris. The house version likes damp areas like bathrooms, so my little critter was just doing what came naturally.

Too bad. Now it’s gone.

Centipedes don’t really have 100 legs (it’s more like 15 pairs), but they can move fast. If you find one, it’s best to squash it and vacuum up the remains.

Or just smash it and send it down the drain.

Your choice.

Question — Which “bugs” are your least favorite to have in the house?

Sharing Secrets

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When you work for yourself like I do, it’s sometimes tempting to skip the makeup and dressing routine.

After all, who sees you except your trusty computer? And it doesn’t judge.

But I’ve never given in to that temptation. Every morning, rain or shine, outside appointment or not, I “do” my face and put on something other than PJs.

Why? Is it vanity? Or habit? Or fear of scaring people who might show up at my door? Or some combination of all that?

I had an aunt (she divorced my uncle, so I guess she’s technically not still my aunt) who used to get up WAY before her husband and kids. Just so she could “put her face on” and they wouldn’t have to see her au naturel.

I used to think that was a bit radical. I mean, did she expect them to love her any less in her bare face than in her made-up face?

Or maybe she just couldn’t stand the thought of accidentally seeing her own nude face reflected in a mirror?

Anyway, that’s not my concern. I’m taking notes from my computer and refusing to judge.

Some women have gorgeous skin and need very little touching up to keep it that way. Lucky them!

Others have issues. Sun damage, acne or its scars, wrinkles or blotchiness.

I happen to have Rosacea.

Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? A rosy complexion.

But who wants to look like they’re blushing all day every day? Or like they’re an alcoholic? When they’re NOT!

As a child, I had a peaches-and-cream complexion with light blonde hair (typical Rosacea appearance, thanks in part to my Irish heritage). Shortly after I turned 30, I noticed a persistent pinkness on my cheeks that showed up when I blushed but didn’t go away after the blush should have been over.

People, even doctors, pointed out that I must have been in too much sun. But I haven’t consciously let the sun touch my face in many years; rather, I douse my skin in sunscreen and often wear a brimmed hat.

Finally, I found a dermatologist who diagnosed my Rosacea and put me on medication. No, it’s not curable, but how many obituaries have you read where the person died from Rosacea?

And I’m in good company — former President Bill Clinton, J.P. Morgan, and Mariah Carey all had/have Rosacea. So did W.C. Fields.

But I’m one of the lucky ones. I caught it early, before the symptoms could worsen and involve more than just my face. In fact, most people I know never would guess I have it!

So, there you have my rationale for makeup. To cover my red face.

Is it vanity? Perhaps, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

Any secrets you’d care to share?

Another “Fad” Diet?

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I was minding my own business when something caught my attention on Good Morning America today.

It seems that some new brides, fearing they won’t look PERFECT on their wedding day, are taking to a drastic means of shedding excess pounds.

Yes, there’s a doctor who has found that inserting a feeding tube into the poor dear’s nose for a 10-day period can help banish unwanted weight without side effects.

Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?

The K-E Diet promises to rid you of 20 excess pounds in 10 days. You exist on basically 800 calories a day, supposedly aren’t hungry for the entire 10-day period, and are under a doctor’s supervision but not hospitalization.

The Florida doctor promoting it says the only side effects are a bit of constipation and bad breath.

Oh, and you have to carry your “food” around with you in a purse-like bag and keep the nose tube in place.

Hmmm.

I think the bigger quandary is why a bride figures she has to be perfect in the first place.

I mean, suppose this diet works and she loses the pounds. Isn’t it likely she’ll gain them back on her honeymoon or during her marriage?

And, if a bride has to be perfect, shouldn’t her husband be perfect, too? He’s probably carrying a pound or two extra, so maybe they can do the diet together.

Wouldn’t that be cute?

I can just hear the pundits now. The couple who diets together, stays together.

Really? They probably just stay angry together and wolf down everything in sight once the fast is over!

The K-E Diet only recently came to the U.S. from Europe. I’d love to hear if it worked there and if the pounds truly stay off, or if it’s just another American fascination with anything foreign and exotic.

And the diet doesn’t come cheap. The doctor’s going price is $1,500 for the 10-day treatment (questionable whether insurance will cover it).

So what do you think? Would you be willing to try the K-E Diet?

What Does an Employer Really Need to Know About an Applicant?

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There’s been a lot of talk lately about the relatively new practice of U.S. employers asking job applicants to provide their Facebook login information.

Besides the passwords to social media accounts, employers have been known to “shoulder surf” while an applicant logs into his/her account, or request an applicant to befriend a human resource manager, letting him have access to their formerly private information.

I can see the employers’ reasoning: People tend to loosen up more online than they do in person. They’ll post pictures and comments they might never voice aloud, and they’ll show their “real” selves.

But that’s not true in all cases. Some of us are mighty selective about what we know will follow us, maybe forever.

Everything I’ve read suggests this practice is more common with industries where applicants need to pass a background check. Those employers are hoping a quick (or not so quick) peek into a Facebook account will reveal things about the applicant they’re not able to ask — things like age, race, religion, and gender — as well as activities like drug and alcohol use.

I can see why they’d want such information. With so darn many job applicants these days, anything that helps to narrow down the contenders would be helpful.

But applicants rightfully are concerned. After all, most social media accounts require a person signing up NOT to share their login and passwords.

Applicants fear that refusal to hand over such information will be grounds for employers to toss them out of the applicant pool. How can they feed their family and clothe their children unless they have a job?

Shouldn’t there be a division between what one does at work and what one does off work?

Legislators think so.

In fact, some states (Maryland and Illinois, for example) are considering passage of laws preventing employers from asking applicants for privacy information. Two Senators — one from New York, one from Connecticut — have asked the U.S. Justice Department to determine whether this practice is against the law.

I don’t do Facebook (despite constant urgings from friends to the contrary!). Nor am I looking for a job, thanks to being self-employed.

While I don’t have a dog in this fight, I am disturbed by the issue. It seems that attacks on an individual’s right to privacy are growing and relentless. Shouldn’t there be a better way to weed out unacceptable job applicants without resorting to violating their privacy?

Help me out here. What do you think?

Death of a Teacher

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My high school band director died over the weekend, and reading his obituary shamed me at how little we appreciated him during our teen years.

A former military man, Mr. B was on the strict side. He didn’t succumb to giggles the way we girls did, didn’t immerse himself in sports the way the boys did. He was a polar opposite to our former band director, who got into some “trouble” with a student and abruptly was gone. Probably fired, though that sort of scandal was hushed up at the time (nor did we have Facebook and Twitter to help us connect the dots!)

Anyway, one year prior to band contest, we were practicing, and Mr. B had us all turn our music stands — with our music — toward him and try to play our three selections. Talk about a wake-up call! The notes that minutes before sounded so clear and beautiful suddenly became a cacophony; rests were ignored, phrasing went out the window.

‘You should know these pieces like the back of your hand,’ he scolded us.

It must have worked, for we consistently earned top marks at local and state contests.

But Mr. B was so much more than just a band director. He was an outstanding role model, daily living his faith with emphasis on family. A tiny, leprechaun-ish man, Mr. B was dwarfed by many of his students in size, but outshone all of us in his love for music.

Too soon, the community college snatched him away to head up their music department. That, coupled with the fact that I’d headed off to college, left me clueless as to Mr. B’s whereabouts. Not that he didn’t cross my mind occasionally — important people from our past usually don’t vanish entirely.

But I never really said the words that most teachers need to hear. Two simple words every teacher longs to hear.

Thank You.

The entire time I was at university on a band scholarship, never once did I return home to say ‘Thank you’ to Mr. B for his encouragement.

Years later, our paths crossed when, as a journalist, I was covering a local festival and suddenly caught sight of Mr. B performing with a ragtime combo as a street musician.

Did I thank him then? No.

Some time later, when my son Domer was involved in solo and ensemble contests at the middle school level, I was helping as a parent volunteer and who should I see as one of the judges but Mr. B! Yep, he was still giving of his time and expertise to young band students.

Surely I thanked him then, didn’t I? Sadly no.

And now he’s passed to his Great Reward, playing music in Heaven that far overshadows anything earth can create. I hope he knows how grateful I am — how thankful all of us are — for his unselfish gift of self.

But in case he doesn’t — Thanks, Mr. B.

Are We Having Fun Yet??

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I’m stripped naked and lying face up on a steel table while a group of stone-faced people — all with clipboards and calculators — surround me.

“How much money did you make last year?” one demands. “What’s your Adjusted Gross Income, line x of the IRS tax form?”

“Your cash on hand — and your child’s — how much do you have?” another chimes in.

“Drivers license number? Social security number? Investments, if any?”

“Oh, we see you have a business. What’s its net worth?”

“Did you receive any government assistance — food stamps, TANF, WIC, SSI?”

My head spins. Dutifully I scramble through income tax records, checking and savings accounts, frantic to round up the figures I need to meet their March 1 deadline.

Everybody says February is the cruelest month. Probably they’re referring to how miserable its weather typically is — cold, wet, ice, snow, wind.

I contend February is the cruelest month because of Financials.

That’s right — income taxes aren’t bad enough. For parents of college students, there’s the FAFSA to complete.

Those yet to experience the Wonderful World of Student Financial Aid have a treat in store. My best advice? Save everything!

The FAFSA (Free Application for Federal Student Aid) is being linked with your federal income tax returns, but you’ll need plenty of other materials, and it’s never too late to become a pack rat.

Nobody (except a few “experts”) claims completing the FAFSA is a piece of cake. Far from it, if you’re like me and your eyes glaze over when you see numbers! It’s especially daunting when they change your ID numbers from year to year (to protect you, of course) or refuse to let you access the system if you’re not using the Internet browser they prefer.

While students are busily filling out college applications, writing essays, taking virtual (and in-person) tours of campuses and such, parents are jumping through government hoops in hopes of proving their son or daughter is eligible for “free money.”

We bare our souls — and our finances. We answer questions never asked in polite circles. We go online and complete page after miserable page of data, sign it all with a government-issued electronic PIN, and pay for the pleasure with a credit card.

Then we wait to see if our student qualifies for grants or loans or work-study.

Oh, and don’t think the FAFSA is everything — some universities (like Notre Dame) require completion of the IDOC (College Board’s Institutional Documentation Service). This delightful gem really gets into your business and has an über number of steps to follow.

One of my favorites? Providing copies of your income tax records to prove you aren’t cheating or lying.

I’ve endured this assault to my sensibilities for three whole years now, but I see light at the end of the tunnel. Checking the box that indicates my son will be a senior next fall, I realize with a start this will be my LAST FAFSA nightmare.

Halleluiah!

A Status Update on Lent

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We’re less than a week into Lent, and already I’m having trouble keeping my Lenten “resolutions.”

As a kid, I did what most of my friends were doing, give up candy. Or chocolate. Or sweets. One year I gave up potato chips.

It was hard, but knowing I only had to do it for six days eased the pain.

Back then, it was common practice to relax the Lenten “penance” on Sundays. I’d lie in bed on Saturday nights, watching the clock for 11:59, then race downstairs and break into that bag of candy.

It never tasted better!

But as I’ve matured, so has the Church. We’ve come to realize that giving up sweets or alcohol or even Facebook (yeah, some people do that!), then eagerly waiting for Sunday, isn’t exactly what Lent is about.

Lent is that period of 40 days reminiscent of our Lord’s desert fast, when at the end He was tempted by Satan (Matt. 4:1). It also recalls the Israelites’ wanderings in the desert for 40 years (Nm. 14:34). Catholic and some Protestant churches urge members to become more like Jesus, giving up sin and turning our lives over to Him — not just for 40 days but forever. It’s all about conversion.

A tall order, huh?

So imagine my distress when I looked at the calendar and realized how often I’ve “broken” my Lenten intentions!

You see, this year I decided I’d try to root out my growing tendency to be critical and complaining.

When things don’t go my way, I grumble like the Israelites of long ago. When other drivers make “stupid” moves, I criticize. When politicians play “fast cash” with my hard-earned dollars, I complain.

I’m not proud of it. I don’t like it, and I want to root it out. Lent seemed like a good time for that. After all, “experts” generally agree it takes 21 days to break a bad habit, and Lent would give me nearly twice that.

I envisioned myself becoming kind and loving, tolerant and patient. More like Jesus.

So far, I’m failing. Miserably.

A guy in a pickup nearly slammed broadside into me yesterday, and I complained and criticized. Loudly.

Election signs and ads are popping up everywhere, and nobody seems to have a clue how to fix what everybody knows is broken. So I grumble.

Psychologists say the more automatic your bad habit is, the harder it will be to break it.

Small comfort.

But I’ll keep pushing toward Easter. A few misses along the way won’t derail the process.

And even if I can’t totally eradicate this habit during Lent, at least I’m conscious of it. And that’s really the first step.

How are you coming with your Lenten observance?