Break those chains that bind you...

In my case those chains would be those of unemployment. Tomorrow I start my new job. I'm not 100% what it is exactly other than PM stuff and it's in/around the group at Hotel CaliforniaSoft dealing the the Yahoo deal. That should prove to be quite interesting to me.

Still I'm thrilled to be finally going back to work. I've been off work for 2 months and I can tell you that two months is a good amount of time to be off, but that's all. Granted if I was living the life on some beach in Barbados 2 months may not be enough. But living the life in a townhouse in Redmond doesn't have the same amount of excitement.

Ironically this "list" of things I wanted to do with my time off - well that list still exists with only a couple of the items checked off. I certainly had enough time to get them done, just never felt it.

I did also discover that when I have a bunch of time on my hands, I'm horrible at planning and time management. How is that possible? I wrote the book on planning and time management! Yet, with too much time on my hands (gratuitous 80's song title just for you PMDude - you know you miss me!) I linger, dolt, dawdle, do nothing, procrastinate. Ugh. Me no likey!

I'm thrilled to be opening a new chapter in the book of life. I like starting new jobs - I think its from moving around so much as a kid. You learn how to adapt pretty quickly and how not to be the "new kid on the block". I found I actually enjoy that part. A clean slate. No mistakes have been made and you're only job is prove you are all that you say you are!

Well that's enough rambling for tonight. I just wanted to be sure all you who cared enough to stop by and those who aren't on Facebook (you know who you are) know that I'm in like Flynn (what the hell does that mean anyway?) And the best part about going back to work...I get to work 2 days and take a 3 day weekend!

68 seconds?! Every minute another person dies from breast cancer

A staggering statistic I read today. Every minute - essentially another person dies of breast cancer.

That reason right there and the 1 in 8 women who will be diagnosed in my lifetime is what keeps me involved with the constant pursuit of of being a part of the men and women who are doing bravely doing something every day to help find a cure.

I read that statistic again this morning - every minute another person dies. I started to think about what that was. I realized that in the amount of time that the BF could get that coffee from the little K cup into my cup, another woman died. Another daughter, mother, sister, friend. How many times had I made coffee this week? Each time I did someone lost a daughter. A husband sat helplessly by his wife's side. Somebody's best friend died. The thought of all that had been lost while I waited for my coffee sobered me instantly. It was then that I realized that was the reason I kept doing what I did.

As I watched the BF drip the last dark brown liquid into my waiting cup, I decided it would be better for all involved if I chose to use this as inspiration and use it to push forward in supporting a cause that I know has touched everyone I know.

Yesterday, Seattle SIL, BigBro and I had a garage sale to raise $$ for their 3Day cause (Blueberry was representing the family at another fundraising event - sadly related to cancer too). Total we raised about $500 yesterday.

Since January 2008 when I made the bold decision to walk that year, I've had the fortunate opportunity to be touched by so many in so many different ways. I can remember, to this day, the hug I got from a survivor still enduring chemo that I met in Starbucks after a long training walk. She hugged me tightly and said thank you. I can still feel her strength and determination. I will never know her name, but I'll know that I did something to make a difference in the lives of many women and men(3% of men get breast cancer).

Yesterday, I was pleasantly touched again. A family came into the garage sale. Grandparents with their two grand sons (I'm assuming both boys were their grandsons). The two boys went together to purchase a puzzle for $1.50. The oldest of the two boys handed Seattle SIL the $$. He looked at our donation jar and cookies. Took his wallet back out and pulled out another dollar. Putting that into the jar, he looked up and said, "Thanks." took his cookie and walked off. I wonder if he knows he touched a heart by his simple action? Further I wondered if he knew that his dollar was going to help save someone someday?

Every 68 seconds! Do you know how many minutes the average 3Day walker trains? Or how many minutes it takes to walk 60 miles? If you do the math and you know that each minute someone loses someone they love. Or that each minute someone dies alone having to have faced this disease alone and scared. It's heart breaking. These 3Day walkers are using their feet, some blistered, most tired, to wage a war against breast cancer. The least I can do is bake a few cookies for a small boy to buy and say thank you.

Now the good part, the same number of minutes those 3Day walkers are out beating the pavement, their feet are also raising money for a cause. The walking, they say, is symbolic, but it's much more than that. The money those feet will help raise will help change the face of the disease for the future.

That little boy's dollar may not sound like much (and in fact I scoffed at someone who donated a whole quarter for a cookie) but those dollars and quarters add up. In 2009, those dollars and quarters helped 3.9 million people to receive breast cancer education materials. It helped more than 260,000 women to receive a potentially life-saving mammogram. It helped approximately 5,000 people to be diagnosed with breast cancer who otherwise may not have been diagnosed, and it helped more than 100,000 women to benefit from treatment assistance.

There are thousands of walkers in 15 cities across the country during the 3day event year. Each walker is asked to raise a minimum of $2300 (one woman yesterday was disgusted by that fact using "this economy" as an excuse - while it made me angry it's "this economy" that needs it the most) if you do the math, it those minutes those walkers are walking and the money those walkers raised will lead the fight to change the statistics.

Another person dies from breast cancer every minute? That may be true, but it is also true that every minute, there are also thousands of people who jointly have a goal, all across the world, walking towards a different future. We all get to decide which minutes of our lives to make count. Make your minutes count.

Side Note:

If you'd like to donate to any of my three walkers, you can order cookies from me. I'll deliver the one's I can and ship the one's I can't. No amount is too small to make a difference.

They say idle hands...

Idle is the last thing my hands have been today. I'm motivated. I'm inspired. I'm full of caffeine. And you know when those three things collide some serious scrapbooking is getting done.

It all started last night with Crazy L and Blueberry came over. Crazy L was hoping for some scrapbook pointers from the Queen Scrapbooker - me apparently. Anyhow, it got me motivated as I helped, watched, cropped, cut, matched, chalked, etc. Then this morning bright and early I was up and at 'em.

The MomUnit has sent me some old photos she's been holding on to thinking I'd want some of my very sexy and very 80's school photos. Its not like I'll be putting them up around the house, so might as well preserve them.

I started with a photo I took of the Irby Valley some 25 years ago - give or take. I remember this day very well. I was bored. Which wasn't different than any other day at the farm. I, being a city girl, found myself bored more than once on the peaceful little farm in the middle of no-where. (Side note: This was long before Starbucks entered my world - because I would have had to drive to Moses Lake for coffee - if I was driving by then). Anyhow, the day was sunny and bright. It was hot, and off over the scab rock (that's what it's called I swear) were some storm clouds. I was sitting on the lawn chair out front talking to Grandpa when he pointed out the rainbow between the two trees. Running in to get my camera I snapped this photo. The following Christmas, I framed it and gave it to the GrandparentUnits. It hung in their house until they no longer lived there.

Senior Year! Oh the memories. We were home from Saudi for Christmas (I think) and in a whirlwind attempt to get things done I had to get my Senior photos done, order announcements, and buy a prom dress - during Christmas time. Super easy. Yah right. Mom scheduled the photo shoot and off I went. This was one of several shots we thought did me justice. I was stunned when I saw this photo again to realize I, indeed, had a mullet in high school. Though friends have said, kind friends, that it's not so much a mullet as a Farah Fawcett du! I'll buy that. And pearls? Nice touch. Only they aren't pearls at all. If you lived through the 80's you know that costume jewelry was a big thing - plastic costume jewelry. I had a ton of it. And those bad boys around my neck are a fine example of such jewelry.

Not related to memories in the past - but memories of the here and now. You all know I'm doing cookies for fundraising for the breast cancer 3 day walk. I have, of course, photographed the first batch couple of batches. I'm quite proud of this layout. Sometimes they just come together and make a statement.

I've been asked to donate some scrapbooks to the Beyond Pink fundraiser in October. One will be Pink in theme - dah! The other will be one page for each month of the year. I'm so thrilled to be doing this. It's WAY easier to scrapbook when there aren't any photos to match or use. Part of the research I've been doing for this is just how much would people be willing to pay? While at the expo this year several people said, "I'd pay you to do my photos." It got me to wonder, just how much could I charge? I've found kits for sale anywhere from $5 to $8 for two page layouts. That's not too bad - or is my perception of how much scrapbooking costs off a bit? I figure each page I do is about $4 to $5 these days - so $7 or $8 means I'd be making some money for fundraising....hmmm, so many choices to fund raise. Maybe next year. Though if you want some pre-made scrapbook pages, let me know, we can work out a deal.

Why the sudden burst of energy? I mean I have been unemployed for 2 months and barely lifted the paper cutter...I got a job! Yep, got a job and should be starting next week. Once I get back into the workforce who knows how much time I'll have, so I'd better get it done now.

Dad, your guiding hand on my shoulder will remain with me forever. ~Author Unknown

Somewhere in 1980 or 1981 (the date is all fuzzy to me) I met the man who would help mold me into the woman I am today. Most of us aren't fortunate enough to chose our parents, but I did have that chance when my mother met the man who would be my step dad - The DadUnit.

Born in 1934 in a small town in Eastern Washington, raised by truth, hard work and integrity. All qualities he passed on to me. Times were hard for him growing up. Being in a farming family, during the blackest times in the US economy - meant that they went without a lot of the material items that our children "expect" today. Still, they had love in the family, and enough food to feed them - what more could they need?

He graduated from Marlin High School - a graduation class of 4 and set out to see the world. Going to college at Central Washington he studied hard, got a job, married, had three boys and settled down into a job.

Sometime later he went to work for the Boeing company and was shipped off to Iran. While there he got a chance to see the world. Experience things that many in that time frame didn't. He was one of the last Boeing employees to shut the lights off in Iran before they took the hostages.

Leaving Iran he ended up single and living in Lancaster California. Which is where he once again met my mother. "Once again" because while we lived in Minot, North Dakota (I know, right? The place expresses what hell will look like when it freezes over) he hired my mother to the Boeing company. Weird how the world tilts without you even knowing.

1981/82 he became part of my life. And a part of my heart. With him at the wheel our family blossomed. We traveled. We experienced. We lived. And we loved. Because of him, I got a stellar high school education in a foreign land, and got to go to where the culture was as far from what I knew in the US as it could be (Saudi Arabia). I'm sure he never thought he'd be asked to step up and raise a teenage girl. He had boys and I'm sure at times he thought they were way easier - certainly less emotional.

He supported me through college. Financially, yes, but so much more than that. He wasn't necessarily on board with my major, but let me pursue it all the same. Every trip home asking as only a concerned Dad could - "What are you going to do with a Spanish degree?" Truth be told, I had no idea at that time, but knew I'd figure it out.

After college, he supported me through all the jobs I've had. Secretly hoping I suspect that I would have stayed with his Alma mater Boeing.

Through the years, I've never once questioned his love for me as his daughter. I've never felt like I was a "step" daughter to him. He was strict, but fair. And while I may not have agreed with all his punishments or opinions I knew they were coming from the heart. He never yelled when punishing either. He would sit and we'd "discuss" it. I hated that. It was way more painful to be civil when all you wanted to do was yell and scream. Yet, I've never heard his voice raised in anger.

Here I am in my forties now and he in his seventies. He's not doing overly great health wise. He may not be the man that walked into my life some 30 years ago thanks to the Alzheimer's and I worry about the time I have left with him. I worry about the things I may never get to do with him. I worry about the stories I may never hear him tell. But with all that worry, I know that he made me who I am (with help from the MomUnit of course) and that deep down his heart is still that of a man who stepped in to raise a young girl into a woman.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. Thank you for everything you've given me through the years.

I met up with a gambler, we were both too tired to speak

A friend once told me that I was the most inward thinking person she knew. At the time I dismissed it as a drunk friend spilling her emotions when the alcohol took down her barriers. Still, it's stayed with me and even today I think about it.

I was asked by a recruiter a couple of weeks ago if I were the hiring company would I bet on me. Without a second thought, or hesitation I answered, "you bet!" After I got over the initial groan of an unexpected pun, the recruiter asked me if I wanted to change my bet. Again, no hesitation, I responded, "I'd bet on me every time."

I felt like I had just participated in an odd, but eye opening, psychological test. It got me thinking, "Would I bet on myself every time?" I've told people I am a horrible gambler and have no gambling kharma - yet I'd lay down the chips on myself every. single. time. No hesitation.

It got me to wondering about the betting we do daily. True to it's nature actual betting is full of swagger. Metaphor is betting's middle name.

Raise.

Bluff.

Fold.

Call.

Stand.

Hit.

Bust.

During my recent job search I've found myself sticking to what I know. I've got a nice little routine. I crave what is familiar. All the while knowing my daily routine is nothing familiar. It's the last place I'd rather be. I'd rather be working PM Magic on a project that has my name on it. And yet, I have to trust that soon my skills will be hard at work. I never wavered that I'd find a job. I never felt sorry for myself for being unemployed. I never really worried overly much about I wouldn't come out on top and be better for it.

I was betting (trusting) on me. And I'd do it every time.

Trust is a gamble. Yet we trust everything around us - mostly. We trust our family. We trust our companies. We trust our next paycheck is in the mail. We trust the smarmy news anchor will tell us the truth about a disaster. But are we trusting? Or are we hoping? Hoping that indeed the trust I'm giving freely will not be broken?

It's all a gamble really. No guarantees when you put your chip down on lucky number 13 you'll win. Odds are you may not. And yet we trust ourselves. Willing to let go of that $5 (I have gambling limits remember?) that maybe, just maybe I'll win.

I'm finding that in my ripe old age (all 41 years of it) that regardless of the many times I've fallen on my face, that folding is not in my blood. It's for losers. Winners go all in. Winners hedge their bets. They roll the dice and they will lay down that bet again and again and again.

You know what, I will bet on myself again and again and again.

The Unusual Suspect

I have a huge pond in my back yard. Every year around this time the tree frogs serenade me with their song. It's probably a mating song, which is gross, but pleasant if you don't think about it. It used to be annoying and now I find it's soothing. Occasionally you hear a bull frog singing off key, but I can look past that.

A couple of nights ago, the rain was hammering down and the frogs were singing away out there. I have my windows opened and could hear the chorus of frogs mixed with the pounding rain, it was blissful. Relaxing. It made me feel like I was camping out without the actual camping out (cuz we all know I don't do that right?)

Last night I walked into my room and couldn't believe how loud the frogs were. I mean they usually get loud, but they seemed to be in my room. Thousands of them, and cricket too. "huh?", I thought, "I haven't ever heard crickets." I laid down in bed and enjoyed the sound all the same. Relaxing. A soft breeze blew in from the window and it just felt so nice and peaceful.

I turned to see what time it was an noticed a green light illuminated on my clock. No need for an alarm so I'll just shut it off. Depressing the button the frog, cricket, out doorsy sounds stop.

I lay there face palming my head. "What an idiot!", I say.

I bolt up and glance around the darken room. How'd my nature sound on the clock get turned on? No timer for it. I didn't do it. Oh crap...a crazy person probably broke into the house and turned on my clock - at which point I realized I have to stop watching who done it shows at night.

Hopping out of bed, I frantically switched on all the bedroom lights. Opened the closet and checked for said crazy people.

All the while at the end of my bed, an unassuming cat puddle moved. He stretched. Blinked and gave me the look of, "Pray tell why did you wake the King from his slumber."

Realizing I was being an idiot. I switched off all the lights and went back to bed. Laughing at myself, I watched the "beast" jump up on to the window sill right above my night stand. You see where this is going don't you?

It's a thin window sill, and one the beast doesn't really "fit" on too well. He notices I'm watching him and jumps down.

The room is suddenly filled with frogs and cricket sounds and a little green light appears on my clock.

Damn cat.

She's a Fighter like her mama always taught her to be...

Pink is the word. And this weekend was all about pink and breast cancer awareness. It's hard to believe I've been a part of the 3Day/60 mile breast cancer community for 2 glorious years now, but I have. And each event I go to or volunteer for I am sure none can ever top it...and somehow, the next one does. It's hard to explain the 3Day world to people, but just imagine a world where everyone feels and gives love. Warmth. Care. Happiness that exists around something so sad and horrible as breast cancer...truly amazing. And I'm so honored to be a part of it.

This past Saturday was the 3Day expo. The 3Day staff - whom I adore - asked me and galpal Lori (Who shall hence forth be known as Crazy L?) to be at the Inspiration table. They asked us to bring our scrapbooks and talk to walkers about how to be inspired by the 3Day. I felt, what's the word, honored to be asked. I mean they want "me" to inspire people. Okay. I can do that!

First, to spend the day with the 3day community of love and friendship and then to spend it volunteering with none other than Crazy L...I knew the day would be a blast. I laughed, I cried -what? of course I cried - I laughed some more. It was, a great day.

What surprised me more than anything was the feedback I got about my scrapbooks. The shocked look on peoples faces about how much work (or assumed work) they think went into them. The compliments of the beautiful pages I had done. The questions about how did I do that? The question of "can I take a picture of this design?" All of it was a bit overwhelming. And I found a bit embarrassing.

I'm proud of the scrapbooks I've made for the 3 day. Its hard to not make something so beautiful when everything you're working with is beautiful in every way. I am a good scrapbooker, but I had no idea people thought I was that good. So many women asked me to take their photos, begged really, and scrap for them. If only I could find a way to make $$ at that - and so today I started thinking about how I could raise $$ for the 3Day/60 mile walk by scrapbooking peoples experiences. Still, I was a bit "ahhhh" struck by the love I felt from people viewing my scrapbooks and oogling over my pages. I felt loved. And accomplished.

Princess Lori, Erin, Blueberry and I (notice the Hope Miche bag shell - I saw two other girls there with the same hand bag.)

 Princess Lori and I preparing to Inspire people.

Coffee and pink - my two favorite things

Our Inspire domain. I feel inspired. Don't you?

 I'd say don't ask, but I know you will. Princess Lori has these awesome sparkly shoes. She was trying to get them into the photo...and well, I had to show off my non pink shoes.

In other non pink news, I did not get the job I interviewed for on Friday. Which is probably a good thing. While the job sound exciting and something I'd love to do, it would have launched me right out of my comfort zone into a very uncomfortable zone. I would have taken more time than necessary, I think, to ramp up. So while I was sad to not get the job, I was equally relieved because I knew in my gut it wasn't' the job for me. It takes a lot for me to say that. The 'fearful' girl in me wants a job. The 'realist girl' in me what's THE job.

More phone interviews this week. I know the job of my dreams is out there. I can hardly wait to meet it.

Solitaire is the only thing in life that demands absolute honesty. -

Solitaire is also know as Patience. Interesting little tid bit and every so accurate for the Ah-Ha moment I had while playing solitaire during the Great Unemployment Adventure.

Solitaire has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My grandmother was an avid solitaire player. I can remember the many summers we used to spend at her house and hearing the familiar shuffle, bridge, shuffle, bridge, tap, tap tap. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Even as I write that I can see her sitting at her table. It was therapeutic to hear it. After several minutes of that she'd lay the cards out and begin to play. Sometimes she'd win. Sometimes she'd lose. But for an hour or so she'd sit at the kitchen table and play. But she'd never cheat. Even upon my suggestion, she'd never cheat.

I've cheated at solitaire. I get a moment of satisfaction from "winning" which is promptly followed by another deal to "fix" the fact I cheated. Thankfully in the computer age, I can't.

Ahem...

Along side of the cards she'd always have a bottle of Planters Dry Roasted peanuts opened. Several would be poured into the lid. As she played she'd take a couple of peanuts. Next to the peanuts would be a small glass of rose wine. Usually out of a box. But there she'd sit for hours sometimes playing. As a kid I remember sitting next to her "helping" her. She never complained, never shoo'd me away. In fact she had a ton of Patience with me. She taught me how to play. I wish I had take a photo of her playing...

Right, so my Ah-Ha moment. I play solitaire on the iPhone now. I'm addicted. I can't help myself. Some games I win, most I don't. I play Canfield Solitaire now, thanks to the MomUnit getting me hooked. It's crack for solitaire players.

As I play Solitaire there comes a point when I think I'm going to lose. My instinct is to quit at that moment. Reshuffle. Start over. A click of the mouse I can begin anew.

I find myself sticking with it though. I keep saying to myself, "The next shuffle might rustle the cards loose. Keep going." And sometimes, miraculously, I win.

My "Ah-Ha moment" was realizing that life is a lot like that. There are times, current time in my life, where I want to quit. Reshuffle the cards. But the smarter side of me says, "keep going. The next round through the cards may work."

I may win some or lose some, but at least I know that I've played the hand I was dealt.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a solitaire game to win.

PS - the phone interview went well. Called back for a face to face on Friday! Glad I didn't reshuffle.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

I have a phone interview today! I love interviewing. Wanna know why? When else do you get to talk to someone seemingly interested in your professional career? Almost never!

Interviewing is an opportunity. It's a chance for me to show someone who doesn't know me at all just what makes Jenn - well, Jenn. What experiences have brought me to their doorstep? What jobs have taught me the way to manage projects successfully? What people have influenced me into who I am today?

In preparing for the phone interview, I, of course, read the job description a million times. I've jotted down a few questions. And me being me, I have prioritized which questions I really want to ask. Some can wait if the interview was successful and I progress. And that got me thinking.

I started thinking how people blow job interviews. I've interviewed a ton of people in my time, and frankly, love it. I should have gone into HR I think. Still I'm amazed what people will tell you in an interview.

Here are a few rules I've put together for myself about interviewing:

Dazzle them, but professionally.
For me the interview is the first impression. It's my one chance to dazzle the interviewer with just how articulate and professional and PM worthy I am. I need to be able to demonstrate what skills I have by examples. Examples people! You can tell someone you know how to manage a successful project, but until you can give an example of a project you managed successfully and WHY it was successful, your words are useless.

Prepare.
I wonder how many people I've asked if they checked out our company's website said No they hadn't. Really? You didn't even bother to take the time to check out the website? That's lazy. I don't think interviewers expect the candidate to know everything there is to know about a company, but at least an overview of understanding what the company does is going to help you.

Honesty.
I'm shocked at how many times someone has told me something they've accomplished in an interview, then couldn't back it up. Being dishonest on your resume and then in an interview is a solid tell of your character. Let's face it, we all want to be better than we are. And that's a good thing. But there's no reason lying about what you've done. As they say somewhere, "The proof is in the pudding." Eventually you'll have to put the money where your mouth was. Honesty is always the way to go. If an interview asks you about "have you ever..." and you haven't. Just explain you haven't, but that you're a quick study and would love a chance to learn more about that. (unless of course you're not a quick study and you can't stand whatever the topic is).

Be genuine.
People can tell when you're not being genuine. If someone tells you part of the job will be to eat a bell pepper every day. And say, hypothetically you hate bell peppers, don't pretend to like bell peppers. Don't pretend. Being who you are will get you farther than pretending to be a bell pepper loving PM. I'm just sayin'.

Be succinct.
For god's sake, don't go into too much detail. You have to go into enough to explain, but the interviewer doesn't need to know every step you took. This of course depends on the question you've been asked. If they've asked you to review your job history, do so succinctly and perhaps adding in tidbits of things you've done that directly relate to the job description. If they ask you for a step by step review of how you set up and manage a project. Then by all means, go step by step. I think you get what I'm saying.

And lastly, interview them.
By all means, ask questions. Especially if you're interviewing with the person who will be your boss. You have to know that you're as compatible with this boss as he/she has to with you. Ask about their managerial style. Ask about team challenges from their perspective, etc. However, be sure you ask relevant questions. For example, your first interview you probably shouldn't ask about vacation benefits. Or whether the employees get free massages every day.

I guess and last lastly, have fun. Don't freak out about an interview. Go in having all the confidence in the world that you can do the job. Sure, you will have to ramp up, but most people do. But know you're background and know what your strengths and weaknesses are. Be prepared to discuss them. But enjoy yourself.

Now if you'll excuse me I have to go prepare more for my phone interview.