SquidRoad

Try, try again?

So....I realize I've been offline blogwise for a long time. That's why I've defaulted to Twitter. The term "microblogging" and me - we get along well.

But my writing itch still itches!

A lot has happened since I last posted. We've lost key members in my family and the legacy baton between generations is slowly being passed. A home we'd hoped to purchase ended up finding a different owner. For the first time in our marriage, the hubs will be the world traveler, instead of me. And that's okay.

In other words, lots of transition. Transition always makes you take stock of where you are on life's roadmap. For me, it makes me reassess things that I've dropped along the way but may want to pick back up.

One such area of interest to me is marketing to Hispanics. My brother and I launched a bilingual greeting card line nearly 15 years ago, called Amorcitos Greetings - Greeting cards that hug the border. We are U.S.-born Latinos, so we mostly speak English but are fortunate to also be fluent in Spanish (not necessarily a given for our demographic).

We were exploring the market and wanted to validate our hunch: that there were Hispanics out there, like us, who spoke English but still treasured the language, values of our forebears. And we wanted to honor that with a line of cards that cherished our heritage while capturing its joy. I mean, anyone who has been around a Latino probably has access to lots of laughter and good times. We're talking 24/7 party, right? It's part of who we are, and also one of the best cultural traits of our people, in my opinion. That, along with a very strong work ethic.

Amorcitos was small, yes, but fun and spirited, and it got lots of media coverage nationally. There was one downside, though: it was about a decade too early. Right thing, wrong time? Maybe. But would it be the right thing now in its prior form? Maybe not.

Still, who knows, we may see a reincarnation of Amorcitos soon. I'd look for it.

Echa pa' lante: How not to join a conga line

How does that toddler underwear TV spot go--I'm a big kid now" or something like that? Yeah, that's me.

I'm embarrassed to admit I finally attended (strictly as a guest anyway) my first fund raiser recently, for a local Hispanic nonprofit agency. I won't lie though: I was in it 150% for the extracurricular activities. When I first promised a friend I'd go and do my part for a good cause, let's face it--that cause was the live band--a conjunto in Latin terms.

And let me tell you, this gig was most definitely on Latin terms. Hallelujah! Let the fiesta begin.

The week before the event, I asked my friend who the band was.
---Ahh, sabes qué, Nydia, we couldn't get the band after all. We could only get a DJ.

Whaaat? What did she mean they could only get a DJ? Didn't they realize I was rounding up troops for a friendly shimmy-shimmy showdown? What was I going to tell my invited guests?

It's a good thing most of them didn't show. They'd only have gotten my rebellious side.

It's like this. I've never been a stellar conformist. Probably because I've always been the 'different' one:
- The one with dark hair (in the more or less pre-Hispanic Midwest)
- The minister's kid ('priest's kid' when we moved to South Texas...I'll never get that one)
- The one who was a little too 'white' for some friends, and a bit too Hispanic for others (Oreo syndrome, whatever--it's No Man's Land)

That night at the fund raiser, my nonconformist took over.

It was a great event--packed agenda, for sure. Cultural dances, exquisite Latin cuisine, fashion show, more dance exhibitions, auctions silent and not so silent.

And then finally, 10pm struck. The fashion show runway got rolled up. Podiums stashed away. Brooms came out to get the grit off the quasi-parquet surface that was about to let me be me. The parranda got going just moments before my friend and I were about to exit the scene for a more vigorous Plan B.

As often is the case, an oldie but goodie known to salsa dancers everywhere built up slowly over the speakers. (Good sound! Sweet.) It was Grupo Niche's Una Aventura. (Think: "More cowbell.")

It wasn't long before we were rumba-ing to loads of classics, one right after the other. Great stuff from a DJ who knew his crowd of music-hungry Latins.

That's when I got swept up in a conga line.

I don't DO conga lines.

--Vamos! Come on--jump in! they kept yelling to me and my friend. And they would. Not. Give. Up.

My brain told me to run, but I couldn't do that--it would be rude. So I did the next rudest thing. Reluctantly, I joined the line (God help me), took it a few wild directions...and then bailed in a personal detour. But not before I took half the bunch with me, leaving the tail-end of the rumberos feeling a bit decapitated.

I caught a few sneers at first. (That'll show 'em not to recruit a rebel next time.) Lucky for me, I made some friends anyway that night, and we're already making plans for our next fiesta Latina.

Do as I say, not as I do: If you ever have to join a conga line, make sure you really mean it.

It's a good day

...when you can't remember what day it is. Which means today has been a good day. Tomorrow we return home from our ever-so-brief vacation at Outer Banks in North Carolina. It's been a series of come-and-gos since the weekend, but we've had the best time with family and friends. Not to mention we ate our weight in great dinners. Even the weather cooperated, for a little while anyway. Tomorrow night, we get home late, in time for a very full end of week. If you've ever taken time off and returned midweek to work, you know this is a bad idea. Everyone else is "warmed up" while your brain is still in a pleasant (read: ignorance is bliss) state of mush. I hope we at least slept more away than at home, but that's up for debate. In any case, I can't wait to return to the coast. If you haven't recently been near a large body of water, I highly recommend it.

NaBloPoMo or, How I Got Out of Making Up A Bunch o' Stuff

So today is the beginning of two writing deadlines, one I can hit and one I can't. NaNoWriMo has had a soft spot in my heart the last few years, though I haven't done so great at keeping up with it. It's in a bad month, and the word count that would help meet the requirement for a novel just killed me. Partly, I couldn't clear my head enough to write anything that wasn't sheer journaling (I guess that's legal...). And then I couldn't find the time to get past the dribble. Maybe I'm not a novelist material. Heck, I couldn't even finish a short story! I know, I know: that totally defeats the purpose of NaNoWriMo. But that's beside the point. Enter NaBloPoMo (which I only learned about tonight): - One blog post per day - No word count minimum (with NaNoWriMo, it's about 1500 words per day to reach the 50k that qualify you as a NaNoWriMo completer). So here we are, and-oh!-there's my post. I could say The End right here. And because of the late hour and a book to read, it will have to be so. Something a little less cursory tomorrow.

10.10.10: I prefer 42

 Something about my past...but nothing to do with the fact that the birthday called "42" is behind me...by a bit. Pfffft.

In college, I was appointed to a crash course in the Hitchhikers Trilogy. The title volume: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The series ends with So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish. Go figure.

Still, I get all tickly inside w/this memory. My first boyfriend in college actually read the entire trilogy to me--all four books. Out loud. In the Texas A&M library. And then proceeded to crack up (again, out loud) at all the right geeky moments. Stellar.

I can't point my finger only at him, though. This series was funny. Bizarre, but funny. Of course, anything in one's youth that fits that description should be suspect. That suspicious certainly was confirmed when the movie came out a few years ago.

Oy! Some memories of the book series clicked and others were just...off. Or maybe I didn't envision things being said in English accents. It was like a B-version (or less) Austin Powers.

In any case, it makes me laugh now to think that today's date in binary (42)--to some might present the answer to life, the universe and everything. Not that I believe it, but it does make for a fun, quirky answer to life' more serious questions.

I think Microserfs is calling my name now.

Estate planning...kind of

My mom cracks me up.

She just visited me for my 44th birthday, traveling cross-country even against her own natural desire. She did it for me.

We made a few outings over last five days..some eating out, some making big meals and eating in, a good bit of shopping and overall lots of conversation. Largely about food, if I recall correctly.

But the funniest thing she did (this time) was some on-the-spot estate planning...at an estate sale. We passed a table filled with fancy teacups and saucers, and the ideas started to flow like a river. "Wow, look how much I can get for the ones I have!" and "I have some nicer ones than those...we can make a little money!"

Nearly knocked me over, I was laughing so hard. I mean, in the end, she won't care, right?

One of the things I love most about my mom is how open she is in talking about the things of life--love, loss, highlights, successes, failures...you name it. No topic is taboo with her. Guess that's why her grandkids love and consult her so much. In fact, it's something most people love about my mom.

Personally, I'm more inclined to let someone else figure out what to do with those fancy teacups. I'm not however, opposed to having a tea party with them before they're gone.

Does thinking make your head hurt?

A few years ago, I had one of those Aha! moments.

This one was a sinker: I realized I hadn't done any real, deep thinking in awhile. The kind that hurts. That kind that makes you struggle deep down inside, argue in your own head...so, naturally, it gives you a headache.

Now...it seems deep thinking is all I do. It's good--great, even. Just a little exhausting. Lots of headaches.

In terms of the online space, I've been trying for sometime to figure out what I really want to talk about as a blogger, or where I can make a contribution that's meaningful. My work is nonprofit. I work for an international org...spent years on the international side, in fact. I'm a marketing communications girl with a whole lot of interests.

While attending the NTEN Nonprofit Technology Conference several months ago in Atlanta, I was telling some friends how, when I used to travel extensively, I felt safer traveling nearly anywhere else abroad than here in the US. Got a very puzzled look and a load of disbelief.

It's true, for the most part. I mean, there are definitely cities where you feel stalked if you don't look like everyone else, but honestly, that happened maybe 1% of the time. And closer to home than you think.

But I digress....kind of.

There are two main things I've learned in my work:

1. The human race -- we're all the same. We want the same things--to belong, to be loved, to make life better for our kids than we had it. Everywhere, it is the same.
2. International work is hard. It is supremely rewarding, just incredibly complex.

So I've decided to attempt to write, at least some, about working across cultural lines. Not that there aren't people much more expert than I...believe me, there are many. But I can speak to my own experience struggling with the same things any international NGO works through--making a real difference in the lives of others...and making that difference mean something to the person who supports the cause.

On the nonprofit side, this is where I'll start. Wish me luck.

If I get anywhere near my target, it'll feel like a homerun.

It's a miracle we even shop at IKEA anymore

First, it was our kitchen cabinets. Three years ago, we go in to buy the other half our kitchen, only to find that collection has been discontinued. "Going in," by the way, was. All. The way. To DALLAS. By the time we finished the project, about 4 trips to Dallas. From Colorado.

Okay, so we made it an excuse to see family too. But I digress.

So now we're trying to get some patio furniture, and this is what I get from IKEA's lady-on-the-phone after learning a) I can't buy it online, and b) it's almost out of stock at the stores nearest to where we live.

LOTP: "Well, do you want to check another store--perhaps, one closer to you?"

Me: "Well, I live in IKEA-no-man's-land-Colorado. Utah or Texas are the closest IKEA locations to us."

LOTP: Nothing
(like she can't believe there's a HUGE HOLE in the middle of the country, the exact shape of an IKEA!)

Me: "We pretty much always have to make a trip for anything IKEA."

LOTP: Quiet...then: "Well, how about we check one of the four franchisee locations that can ship this to you? Would you like me to check inventory there?"

Me: (in my head, Is it me? Am I stupid? Or is she assuming I know what she's talking about?) "Oh. OK. I didn't know there was that option. Sure, let's check the other stores."

(on hold...)

LOTP: "Seattle seems to have plenty of inventory, as does Houston. Perhaps you'd like to call them directly, if I give you their numbers, so that they can ship to you?"

She gives me the numbers.

LOTP: "And IKEA-Centennial" (Denver) "should be opening in the next 2-3 years." (Like this will help me.)

Me: (chuckling) "Yeah, they keep telling us that."

LOTP: Silence, then: "Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?"

Uh, newwww. But thank you.

Less RSS = Less Learning

Been wondering what's been making me cranky the last few months.

Now, before you start shootin' holes in my feeling, let me submit that when I'm not learning something new, I get really, really bored. (For the record, busy does not equal bored.)

It's been about nine months since this fiasco happened and all my RSS feeds went Google Way. Aaargh. That's a challenge when a lot of your learning happens by following, oh, a few hundred blogs.

 
Also a few months ago, I mentioned how I'd gone kicking and screaming to Twitter. What pushed me over the edge was the idea of microblogging, following others' blogs and then pushing my own (or others') information in 140-character bites in an effort to share.

But it's really not the same.

While it takes a lot of content browsing to find what you want via RSS feeds, finding valuable content via Twitter is truly like looking for a needle in a haystack. It takes much, much longer and yields much, much less.

So imagine my information drought of the last several months. Heck, I'm surprised I can still read at all.

Exit my old RSS reader app. (Fine-- go to Big Brother Google!). Enter....enter...well, I'm trying a whole bunch of stuff. For starters, NewsFire and Times (screen shot shown, above).

NewsFire behaves more like my old sellout tool (I'm not at all upset about it)--makes it easy to drill down into it if you want to, although scanning info requires a few more brain cells (still looking for those). With Times, what you see is what you get--in a very slick interface. If you want to feel like you're reading the paper but online, this is your gig. Beautiful GUI...I nearly fell for it, but it's just a bit too pretty for me.

As much as I love good design, when I'm looking for information, that's all I need. Of the two RSS readers I'm trying, so far it's NewsFire.

And I'm reading three-syllable words again. That can't be all bad.

Don't forget Haiti

Less than a month after the Haiti earthquake, barely a sliver of media spotlight remains on this tiny country.

In our world, we don't know how to deal for this long with the level of turmoil facing our neighbor-to-the-south. Working for an organization that serves the developing world, it's hard not to be hyper-aware of Haiti and all her pain. It remains a good chunk of my job right now.

Having coworkers there who are also dear, dear friends and who get no break from this nightmare breaks my heart all over again. And finally today, the unknown status of a colleague buried under rubble... changed. His remains are on their way home pending confirmed identification.

It's simply too much.

Jesus said,

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:29-30, The Message)

The developed world is spoiled rotten--us especially. Little do we realize that 99% of the world doesn't live like we do. The fact is, most carry heavier burdens by their 5th birthday than most of us will see in a lifetime.

That's true of Haiti on a good day. For that reason, we can't let her fall off our radar. The road to recovery will be long. There will be steps forward and back. But we must come to her side and stay there.

In the smallest way, each of us can do something to support our tiny tropical neighbor, just 800 miles off our Florida caost, with love, prayer, hard work, hugs, letters, emails, tweets...you name it.

Whatever you do, don't let the media or anything allow you to forget Haiti. Whether you choose to give, help or just send a virtual hug to someone there, encourage this nation and her people.

Just don't forget her.