A new calling is calling my name

“Well, I’ve got a lot of callings. You can’t just limit
it to one. … Life’s too short to devote yourself to
a single thing, and luckily for me, I’m interested
in other things. And one must pursue those things.”

~ Charlie Trotter

Acclaimed chef Charlie Trotter announced he’s closing his famous Chicago restaurant, and he this comment above during a radio interview yesterday with American Public Media’s Marketplace. Trotter is turning from cooking to studying philosophy and political theory.

You go, Mr. Trotter! His words rang true with me as I launch a new venture: Clickago Storywerks. My role with the Association of Personal Photo Organizers has evolved from territory manager to member and membership rep, and now I’m in the business of helping people tell their stories and organize their pictures.

I’m a storyteller at heart, which explains why I’ve dutifully kept up this little blog for three and half years. (Hey! I’m now the No. 1 Google entry when you type in “Minnesota transplant blog” — it wasn’t always that way, people! I own that space, and in search engine optimized terms, that means something.)

I’ve been a newspaper reporter, a headline writer, a marketing executive, a communications director and a territory manager. But what’s always stayed the same is that I was working for someone else. Now, I’m going to try a new thing: Working for myself as a photo organizer.

Trotter said something else, too, that applies to people’s photo collections:

“Fine dining is the one luxury experience that’s pretty much available to everyone — not every day or once a week, but maybe once a year, because it only costs something like $100 an hour for the experience. And it takes 80 people to do. Whereas even the lamest plumber charges $115 an hour and he’s by himself. So fine dining is a luxury experience that is available and accessible to everybody.”

If people can spring $100 an hour for a fine dining experience, or $115 an hour for a plumber, I’m betting they’ll invest in a certified professional to help them enjoy their photos, too. While food and running water might rank high on one’s list of priorities, one’s stories and memories ought to be right up there. I spoke to 48 people yesterday morning at the Gail Borden Public Library in Elgin about organizing their photos — 48 people showed up on a Tuesday morning to learn how to tackle their projects! Like making a soufflé or installing an operational faucet, organizing photos isn’t for the faint of heart — it requires discipline, the right tools and technical expertise. Bring it on — I can help.

I’ve updated my Clickago blog, the little blog about family photos I started when I began with the Association of Personal Photo Organizers. I’ll still share photo ideas, but I’ll be talking about sharing stories in other ways, too, including books and blogs. Click here to see the made-over Clickago Storywerks blog.

Speaking of books, I’m publishing the memoir I finished last summer. Stay tuned for news on that front.

Let’s toast the pursuit of new things!

Note to self: Restock ‘blog ideas’ file

My “blog ideas” file isn’t helping me today.

It’s a tickler file of things to write about when nothing better happens in my day beyond vacuuming two flights of steps, washing the bed sheets and enjoying Chinese food for lunch (how’s that for scintillating?).

I mean, I made a whole blog post out of the dog’s bi-monthly visit to the groomer yesterday, but that’s a stretch two days in a row (I created that entire post, by the way, pictures and all, on my cell phone, which is a pretty cool statement about the ease of use of the WordPress app on iPhone).

Back to today’s topic at hand. Which, according to my “blog ideas” file, could be:

• Something pithy about résumés from my Daily Dictionary of Corporate Bullshit calendar. My résumé is not my friend right now.
• A humorous take on George Takei’s work with Social Security, except I already covered that ground back in November (read it here), and it was neither humorous nor space age.
• A rant beginning with “the problem with stupid people.” The four points I jotted down read like my 3 a.m. bedside notes on my bad dreams so I risk being the problem instead of solving it.
• A personal comparison to a stat I found in the Chicago Tribune back when I was subscribing to the paper version. Apparently, an average American woman owns 17 pairs of shoes, which seems woefully underestimated to me.
• Something sad about an errantly filed receipt for livingroom curtains. How many of my other files are hiding such ephemera?

So, I got nothin’ for ya today. Not even two cents on the Secret Service scandal, which holds no excitement for me, or the newly repaired generator on the 1983 Pace Arrow, about which my Beloved seems inordinately excited.

Since you’ve followed me through this pointless labyrinth, allow me to leave you with a blessing: Since inspiration is not with me, at least let there be peace with you.

My happy place

During my fifth year of college  … yeah, I attended one of those state schools that have a four-year graduation rate of a whopping 15 percent, so your point is?

Anyway, during my fifth year of college, I was editor in chief … yeah, that was the official title: Editor in chief. Sort of inflated, but I’ve always thought it was cool and important sounding. (One of my managing editors, by the way, was in his sixth or seventh year of college.)

Anyway, during my fifth year of college, I was editor in chief of the student newspaper. I was made for that job. If you can call it a “job.” I was paid a stipend of next to nothing. But I guess I was paid so it qualifies.

We published twice a week, and I remember many a Sunday and Wednesday nights when I would sit in front of a computer terminal to edit copy and puzzle together the edition’s design. To be clear, I didn’t do any of it by myself. The office was abuzz with people who designed ads, wrote headlines, developed photos and pasted together bits and pieces of news to make a newspaper.

On the way to our basement office, I would often stop at the deli and get a three-cheese bagel and a bag of Doritos to munch while editing. Despite my deplorable meal choices, I lost weight that year because I would forget to eat. I was engrossed in my work, and time meant nothing on those nights. We were there until the bitter end and we had the “we’ll sleep when we’re dead” attitude of a good group of 20somethings no matter how long it took so it didn’t really pay to watch the clock.

I was underpaid, and we worked hard, but I felt like I was doing valuable work. We were putting out the news. We were telling important stories.

This is how I judge a good day’s work, even today. Watching the clock or checking off an endless to-do list of meaningless tasks or sitting in tedious meetings or biting my lip during noisy conference calls is not important work. Telling important stories is valuable work and it is one of the reasons I love to write this blog.

Is my interview posted a couple of days ago with an 8-year-old who colors cats “important”?

Sure it is. It’s important to him. It’s important to me. It made some readers laugh. And it’s forever captured on the internet (which sounds eerily self-important like “editor in chief” but so be it). Roughly once a week, I nail it with a post like that. I capture someone’s interesting story.

And that’s valuable.

A new blog about enjoying your photos

As I’ve traveled around Chicagoland, the blogosphere and online in the past three weeks for my new job with the Association of Personal Photo Organizers, I’ve discovered all kinds of new ways to enjoy photos.

Since I’m brimming with ideas and avenues, I’ve started a new blog to show off some of those ways.

I’m calling it “Clickago.” Click, as in a camera’s click, plus Chicago equals Clickago. Since I’ve named this blog “Minnesota Transplant,” I thought I ought to give a nod to the state of my current, and for the foreseeable future, residence.

For a look at my new wedding album, check out today’s post.

I’ll be updating Clickago twice a week, but it’s unconnected to Minnesota Transplant, so if photography and enjoying your pictures interests you, bookmark this page or better yet, subscribe.

Thanks for reading!

Tips on where the cool people hang out in cyberspace

Social networking options are multiplying like reality television shows: They’re on every channel, and they’re all demanding your undivided attention.

As in all things, everything in moderation. Just because I like reality TV doesn’t mean I watch every “Housewives of” iteration that’s ever been produced. I don’t need any more catty empty heads in my life. But I do enjoy “Project Runway” (for the creativity on deadline) and “Survivor” (for the photography and tribal council politics — and have you noticed how spiritual it’s gotten, especially the past two seasons? Redemption Island anyone?).

The same can be said of social networking sites. If you were to try to keep up with all of them, you’d never get anything else done. And honestly, you’d be pretty boring. I don’t really care if you announce on Facebook that you’re tweeting or that you tweet that you’re pinning on Pinterest; I’m more interested in what you’re doing in the real world. How’s the weather? How’re the kids? What’s going on at work? What are some of your favorite things?

An associate asked me recently if she should be paying attention to LinkedIn, Twitter and Pinterest. I’m no social networking butterfly, but here are my two cents: Go where your friends are. And by “friends,” I mean the ones with whom you interact in real life, not the vague ciphers you’ve hidden on Facebook because they’re playing too much Countryville or Soprano Wars (or whatever). Think of some of the people in your life you’d like to know more about: Ask them where they hang out in cyberspace and go there.

Here’s where I hang out:

Facebook: I joined Facebook three years ago because my book club used it to schedule our weekly meetings. We sorted out locations, chapters to read, refreshment duties and other details of interest. My newsfeed was interesting because I saw these people every week, and I was interested to read how so-and-so daughter’s broken leg was healing and so-and-so’s inspirational verse of the day. I’ve made a lot of other friends on Facebook since then, and I enjoy spending time there, but if you don’t, don’t feel guilty. Part of the reason I enjoy it is because I know how to use my privacy settings and custom groups; the people I don’t want seeing what I’m posting, don’t. If Facebook makes you feel naked, spend a few minutes with a Facebook guru to learn the controls.

LinkedIn: I use LinkedIn for my professional connections — the people who don’t really care what I’m growing in my garden or how fast (or slow) I run. I want to keep in touch with them professionally, but I don’t need to interact with them daily. Before becoming unemployed, I checked in with Linked In about once a week; now I’ve found some interesting group discussions that keep me coming back every day. Facebook’s BranchOut app has not caught my fancy.

Hangouts I’ve hung up: I tried Tumblr and StumbleUpon, and I haven’t found enough useful there to keep me coming back. And I just haven’t had time to try Google+. I welcome contrary opinions, though.

Twitter: I like Twitter for the instantaneous news, like CNN breaking news and Twins’ scores. And as a writer, I appreciate the skill required to say something meaningful in 140 characters or less. But I haven’t really gotten the hang of replying and retweeting, and most of my tweets are just the titles of my blogs entries. If I want to be vague and mysterious, that’s where I do it because every tweet is public and searchable.

Blogging: I like the WordPress blogging community for when I want to yammer on and on (and if you’ve made it this far in this blog post, I guess you like listening). If you’re not a writer or you hate feeling like you ought to post something every day or week, do not bother. Blogging only works if you’re committed to posting regularly. If I can’t count on you, I won’t follow you. WordPress is easy to use, especially for casual bloggers, but I know a lot of writers prefer Blogger.

Pinterest: I just joined Pinterest, but only because someone I respect speaks highly of it. We’ll see if it’s worth my time.

Where do you hang out? And why should we join you?

Basking in my 15 minutes of fame

Exciting week around Minnesota Transplant’s house. I was Freshly Pressed! Which means next to nothing unless you’re a WordPress blogger obsessed with stats. Guilty as charged. Forgive me a bit of navel gazing.

Hey, when you’re funemployed, you get your kicks where you can.

“Funemployed” — I stole that from fellow Freshly Pressed WordPress blogger, Liz Purdy. Thanks, Liz. And thanks to the folks at WordPress who recognized her greatness and brought her to my attention. In fact, Freshly Pressed has brought a number of interesting bloggers to my attention, including:

• Another Stir of the Spoon: Food, art, books, birds and whatever
• Yes, I Said Minnesota: California kids take on Minnesota

Even if you’re not a blogger, you can find Freshly Pressed at www.wordpress.com and discover new interesting reading.

Being featured on WordPress’s homepage for 24 hours brought nearly 1,100 new readers to Minnesota Transplant and another 20 or so to my aspiring writer blog. And thanks to the stellar communication system in WordPress, I now have a bunch of new blogs to check out because when a fellow WordPress blogger likes a post or comments, I get an email with the blogger’s web address.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment and subscribe, during the past week or at any other time. As someone who kept a diary for five years in high school, I would probably write this blog anyway but it’s way more fun to interact with readers. Here’s to you!

New header reflects the way we’ve been headed

Many weeks of Minnesota Transplant’s year have been spent in the 1983 Pace Arrow RV, so my new header image reflects the on-the-road theme. Check it out.

This is the Pace Arrow on its way back to its temporary storage at my sister’s place in Minnesota. The logistics of its current employ are complex.

My Beloved and I spent a week or so in August camping in the RV. We drove from Illinois to Minnesota in it and bought a new vehicle there to drive around. You’ll hear more about this deal in a future post, but let’s just say, my Beloved is brilliant. He bought the vehicle sight unseen on an eBay auction. And when we picked it up, the guy from whom we bought it gave it to us with a full tank of gas. These days, that’s really a deal!

Anyway, we left the RV at my sister’s, and drove the new vehicle home. Ten days ago, we drove back to Minnesota in our car, picked up the RV and camped close enough to my stepson’s residence to see him play in a few football games. Yesterday, we drove the RV back to my sister’s, and we drove back home in the car.

Next month, we’re driving the faithful old Durango to Minnesota with the intention of leaving it with my stepson. It should be a durable, if not flashy, mode of transportation for him through a Minnesota winter. Then we’ll drive the RV back to Illinois.

Yes, that means we’re going to try to camp — in Minnesota — in October. Regular readers of Minnesota Transplant know the 1983 RV served as our home for 10 weeks earlier this year when we fled the drifted plains of Illinois to spend some time in the warmer climes of Texas and Florida. It got as cold as 28 degrees in south Texas one night, and we survived. Think we’ll be as lucky in October in Minnesota?

As fortuitous as that ol’ motorhome has been so far this year, I’m expecting sunny skies.

On the road again ... (Yeah, baby! That's a Chicago Bears emblem on the spare!)

Paying attention

Pay attention.

That’s the challenge today from A Daily Challenge blogger who I have been following this year in light of my blog publisher WordPress’ Post A Day challenge.

It’s an excellent challenge and good advice. One of the things I like about blogging is that is forces me to pay attention. I am much more apt to actually see or hear or feel what’s going on in a given day knowing I may write about it later. (Yes, more evidence this blog is all about me.)

Too, my email address is MindfulMinnesotaTransplant@.com. It’s a constant reminder to me every day to be mindful of the present moment, even the unpleasant ones.

Thich Nhat Hanh’s description of mindfully washing dishes in his book,”Peace Is Every Step” sticks with me when I just want to avoid an unpleasant moment:

I enjoy taking my time with each dish, being fully aware of the dish, the water and each movement of my hands. I know that if I hurry in order to eat dessert sooner, the time of washing dishes will be unpleasant and not worth living. That would be a pity, for each minute, each second of life is a miracle. …

If I am incapable of washing dishes joyfully, if I want to finish them quickly so I can go and have dessert, I will be equally incapable of enjoying my dessert.”

“Pay attention” is especially good advice for parents. In those moments I would prefer to wish away, my nephew’s very scary, life-threatening fight with leukemia 10 years ago comes to mind. After he got better, he went back every month, then every three months, then every six months and now every year for a check-up. My sister, who admits to being a bit of a worrywart, confesses to fretting at every single check-up that the cancer will return.

Why worry? I ask. Unless the leukemia actually returns in the future, she’s wasting his good health and the joy of his presence now. You can always worry later if that becomes necessary.

Well, that’s good in theory, but then I became a stepmother, and I understand now how hard it is sometimes not to worry about your children. I worry that my 16-year-old stepson will drive too fast and get into a car accident, and I worry that my 21-year-old stepdaughter is carousing with a man of dubious character.

Of course, these are things I cannot control and if I was only paying attention, I could be content and appreciate that they are safe and alive today, in this moment.

So, whether or not you are parent, pay attention today. Pay attention to the sunshine and the rain, the dirty dishes and the dessert, the calm and the crucible for an appreciation of each will help you enjoy both.

High points in my day … and in the village

Photography by Ted W. Photography Studios

I ran a 5k race this morning.

Besides being the race’s only participant, I was the race organizer, official timer, rooting section and post-race activities manager.

The race was Automattic’s Worldwide WP 5k, a virtual race, designed to get lazy writers off their butts and generate worldwide blogging camaraderie (or something like that). The only requirement was participation. In it, I found the perfect excuse to push myself on what might otherwise be a leisurely Saturday morning run.

As race organizer, I chose a route designed specifically to play to the strengths of the participant (in this case, me), so the point-to-point route was mostly downhill on the bike paths, sidewalks and paved streets of my Hampshire home with the wind at my back. The starting line was at the village’s east water tower in a mostly empty subdivision.

Temperature at race start: 52 degrees. Race start time: 11:44 a.m.

I began with the wild cheers of the crowd (a group of parents at a nearby little league game quite possibly applauding an outfield catch) and Frank Sinatra’s “My Kind of Town” (the race organizer determined use of earphones was permissible in this race).

With a little Freddie Mercury, Lady Gaga and Natasha Bedingfield, I ran a pretty consistent 6.5 mph and was on track for a personal record. The race course, however, took me by a second village water tower (also on high ground), and that hill slowed me down despite the inspiration provided by Electric Light Orchestra’s “Don’t Bring Me Down.”

In other races, I challenge myself to pass the runner ahead of me. Without other participants, I challenged myself to pass the fire hydrant ahead of me, and I passed those like they were standing still!

Despite the unforeseen challenges, I won the race, garnered first place in the women’s division and snared No. 1 honors in my age group with a 28:42 race time, 1:11 shy of my best 5K time.

For the victory lap, I refueled post-race with a hot dog on a slice of whole wheat bread (the post-race activities manager apparently forgot to buy hot dog buns), topped with last night’s cole slaw, mild Italian giardiniera and course-ground Grey Poupon mustard. Success tasted scrumptious.

There are as many reasons for running as there are days in the year, years in my life.  But mostly I run because I am an animal and a child, an artist and a saint.  So, too, are you.  Find your own play, your own self-renewing compulsion, and you will become the person you are meant to be.

~ George Sheehan

My mother is my muse

When I don’t know what to write, I think of my mother. I wonder what she might find interesting. I wonder what I would tell her if she asked me about my day.

She lives two states away, and in another time, I would be writing her letters. Instead, I live in the 21st century, and I blog. Sometimes, I write my blog like she writes her letters — sharing the ephemera of her day including the weather and what was on the dinner table. I know she reads every day, and occasionally, dear reader, you get to see what she thinks when she comments.

As she has noted here, she’s a transplant, too, having grown up in North Dakota and moved to Minnesota when she married my father. She’s been a Minnesotan for 40-some years now, but she recognizes that not everyone in the world is a buttoned up Lutheran in boots who considers gravy to be a food group.

My mother maintains her sense of curiosity and adventure. When we spent a week in London together, her favorite part was the subway — for the people watching. Just the other day, we had a spirited conversation about the potential of democracy in Egypt. She’s just returned from an exciting trip to a third-world country.

She’s also a source of strength for me. I’ve missed her so, and I can’t wait to hear all about her travels. Last week wasn’t so good for me, and I long to hear her comforting voice on the other end of the line.

Welcome home, Mom!