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Two Dorks in Tahoe: Scenes from this Weekend

Ok, so I need to do work that actually pays today. So I thought I would submit some vignettes from my weekend with b-friend in Tahoe. Thanks to the cool chick who lent me her house. You know who you are ;)

Don't Hate Us Because We're Over 30

Got an interesting comment from Manu the other day, which she sent after reading my post, "Accepting Men in the Flesh."

I saw Sleepless in Seattle earlier in the day and this post reminded me of what the men in the movie kept saying..."it's harder for a woman in her 40s to find a man than it is for a person to be hit by a terrorist." (I know... old movie)

What you said about organic relationships and something I've been mulling over in the past makes me wonder... isn't college the perfect time to get into a long term relationship? The longer you stay single the tougher it gets. My female friends who found 'the one' while they were still in their early 20s...I find them SOOO lucky! And then there's one that decided to wait, refused a guy who was a couple of years younger and then eventually married at 30 with someone five years younger. A decision she now lives to regret.

Seriously, do you know anyone who waited till their 30's and got into a long lasting relationship with 'the one'?"

I wrote back:

I" hope so! I met my S.O. at 28, but didn't date him till I was 30, and he had just turned 26. Now I'm 33, he's 28. I hope he's it."

10 Things to Do/Places to Visit while waiting for Dell Technical Support.

This list has been inspired by Jean, who thought to write to me while Waiting for Godot, or Dell Technical Support:

...The automated voice let me know that it may be 10 minutes for me to reach a technician.  It's now been 55 minutes and climbing.  While I was listening to the automated voice and annoying hold music, I realized that it may be quicker if I just contact them online.  Not one support area is working!  I've tried to log in, and it offers me an apology for not letting me in.  What is going on?!  It's amazing how quickly I could reach someone when I wanted to originally BUY the computer.  Now that I've purchased it and the 30 day trial period is up,  ... And to think, I paid for extra years of this "service."  I give up.  I'm hanging up and trying another day.  Please wish me luck!  Thanks for "listening."

Don't mention it Jean. I want the next time that you call Dell to be as productive as possible. We also want to spare your loved ones from talking you off the ledge. Here are some ideas of things to do/places to go while you wait for Dell Technical Support.

Introducing The Joy of Six

Extra, extra!: My mother has migrated from my comments section to her own blog!

Behold The Joy of Six: Joy being my mother's name and the general feelings of elation she tends to evoke in people. Six being some OCD tendency she decided to share with me when creating the blog. I just don't know if I could have helped her put it together if she'd called it The Joy of Sex. What is it about not being able to fathom the act between your parents that made you possible?

Yep, come one come all. Come in and sit down in my Mom's massaging Barcalounger. Don't get up! She'll bring you a pop and some pizza rolls--you just make yourself comfortable.

Warning: Bring some tissue. People wonder how it is that I can cry during episodes of Monk. It's genetic. We ooze emotion. And she's got particularly strong Emotional Odor (E.O.) You just walk near this woman and get misty. Maybe you shouldn't read her at work, or read her right before reading Scoble--it would just kill the mood.

Joy Des Jardins

The Confidante

This week has been particularly Mom-ridden, so many comments and notes from bloggers referring to her, or starting their notes with, "I spoke to your Mom, today..."

Do I mind that half my traffic are fans of my Mom? No. In fact I should probably start tagging her to get more page views, though I'm not sure how to categorize her: under Saints? Midwestern Wonders? Stay-at-Home Feminist s(SAHFs)? Does it surprise me that people connect with her from areas of my life that I never imagined? God no. Though now I have to fess up to my secret weapon against much of the nastiness in this world. The meanies who have tried to undermine me; the bosses who didn't appreciate me; the bad boyfriends. I now have to reveal my source, if you will, my confidante. The person who hears it first, unedited, in its whiny, unprocessed form, then is the first to provide accolades when it hits the blog in saner fashion, as if hearing it for the first time.

Living Without a Net: An Odyssey into Self-Employment (Part XIX): On Self-Sabotage

I met with a friend today--a professional coach I hadn't seen in a couple of years. The last time we spoke was during a coaching session. I had just entered a job I knew I hated but convinced myself I needed to get to the next stage of my life. I was hoping she would provide me with reasons why I needed to stay the course, and she did, which cemented my belief that I wasn't on the right course. In the end, I suppose, we all really know what we want but we need to be presented with alternatives and get thoroughly disgusted before we move on.

"I didn't know what you should do at that time," my friend admitted to me today. "I just took your current possibility into real terms and helped you flesh it out."

A few years earlier, she had talked me out of going to business school--well, sort of. She simply asked me questions that brought to light the absurd reasons behind my decision to apply. Somehow, I believed that by gaining credibility in the business world, I would magically get to jump off the business track and do what I really loved--write, speak, travel, and read The New Yorker during the day. I imagined that the dynamic was similar to how celebrities can suddenly become Unicef ambassadors, restaurateurs, Presidents, or proselytizers of Scientology by virtue of their success at the box office. Perhaps, if I got really good at something I didn't care so much about, I could hop over unquestioningly to what I loved and not be hurt. A quick lateral leap, versus a long, laborious, and potentially unsuccessful climb. Hell, it worked, sort of, with men: If I didn't act like I wanted a career, it might just start noticing me. It might just ask me out.

Blog Branding and Lost Junk in the Trunk: Snippets from 35,000 Feet

I wrote this stuff while hallucinating on the flight back from New York. I was in one of those jet-lagged, insomniac states where fully realized thoughts are not possible, but I could still make out bits of pieces of things that happened during the week.

Allow me to share...

Life After BlogHer '05 (Part II)

The environment at my sister's place is decidedly different. For one thing, she has space. And there is a child running around. My sister and I are the same age, and judging by the woman at the drycleaner who asked me how my little girl was doing, we must still look an awful lot alike. And yet psychographically we're opposites. Earlier in the week kids from down the street streamed into the house for a play date. Some friends are staying at my sister's as well--they announced last night that they just got pregnant. I fear the pheromones. Fear that they will infiltrate my system.

Conversations ensue that I cannot participate in: (In the Toureg, driving home from Whole Foods: Brother in law speaking to his pal) "So, Jeff, think you're gonna spring for the Bugaboo?"

"A grand seems pretty steep compared to the others."

I think to myself, who would name a car a Bugaboo? But as I continue to listen, I realize they are talking about strollers.

(Sister, on the phone with her friend, who just called.) "Hi Hun, how's it going? ... You need what? ... When? ... Oh no problem; we're having dinner over here, but I'll just give you a quick prick." (Hanging up the phone). "Selma's on fertility treatments and needs a shot, like, now. We'll just duck out and be back in a minute."

When did my sister become comfortable with plunging a needle in someone's ass? When did she memorize every song in Really Rosie? Where have I been all this time, not even thinking about what it might be like to be a mother? So many women have made this choice without question. Women with lives.

I think of the women from social services who come to the house because my sister fears my niece's speech is delayed. They give her things and see what she tries to do with them. She can put beads on a string, but not say two words in tandem. They say she's a smart girl but is simply not ready to speak functionally. I wonder why they can't come back to the house and sit around me with their clipboards and throw scenarios at me, determine why I'm delayed at motherhood.

I imagine the session: One hands me a breast pump: "Do you know what this is, Jory? What do you think of when you hold it?"

"Pain. I think of pain."

Another one says, can you repeat after me? ... "episiotomy," "five a.m. feedings," "good school district" ...   

I stand there with my mouth open while they take notes. Each word in itself means nothing, but together the phrases are unspeakable.

One asks me: What would you do if you had no choice? Would it kill ya?

I look at her and say, "No, I suppose it wouldn't."

Another looks up from her clipboard and says: Is it really all about YOU? No one else? What else do you plan to leave with this world? A freaking blog?

I insist: "No! I'm not a bad person! I want to leave much more than I started with!"

"Then why haven't you even THOUGHT of having a kid?"

"I have! I have! But she's not just a regular old kid."

One of them clucks her tongue: "Oh, it's a girl is it?"

"Yes, and she looks just like me. She is me; I expect the same things from her. And she's just a little kid!"

"Get over yourself!" One of them yells at me, marking up her clipboard furiously. "Quit thinking you're doing the world such favors."

I close Outlook, then power down the computer. Baby steps.

Life After BlogHer '05 (Part I)

Beth wrote me a sweet note after I popped in for a brief hello at the weekly blogger meeting at Harvard's Berkman Center and saw her. She mentioned that she'd heard the interview I did with Ponzi at BlogHer on the event. (I come after the Technology BOF).

I'm still here on the East Coast, hanging at my sister's near Boston. I've spent the week at my sister's among laypeople, non-bloggers who wondered why I couldn't put the laptop down for a second. They like to laugh at me while I talk with self-importance about blogging like I've discovered salt. I made some allusion to the power of having a voice in the blogosphere, prompting my brother in law to retort, "Ah I feel the blog is strong inside you." I can feel his restraint--they'll wait until the retreat to the bedroom to laugh at me unabashedly.

After all, the last time I used words like transformed I worked at a Dot Com. I realize I need this--reminders that an offline world exists, and that my niece has just stolen a red marker from the grown up drawer and colored all over herself. I was supposed to be watching her, and spending quality time with the child. But then I heard the all too familiar chime of fresh email arriving in my inbox and had to jump back on to Technorati.

I yelled over to my sister and brother in law: "Hey you guys--listen to me! I did an interview." Ponzi had just asked me, in the podcast, how I'd become involved in the event. I turned up the volume to hear my response:

"...It's amazing how this thing has grown!" I said. "It just went from a snow ball to...like...an ICE BALL."

"Wow, that sounds appealing," my sister said.

I think I meant to say the event had snowballed. My description made rigor mortis sound more auspicious.

Reading others' accounts of BlogHer has been ultimately more satisfying than listening to my own.

BlogHer Wrap-Up: The Six-Hour Flight Edition

It had been 36 hours since BlogHer. I was at the airport, standing in line for coffee, when the phone rang. It was Lisa Stone. I had sanctioned myself from speaking with her or Elisa for at least 24 hours and thought against calling either of them last night. If we were all going to detox from living on our cell phones and computers and talking BlogHer I had to be respectful of boundaries.

But, hey, she called first.

"This a good time?" she asked.

I was juggling two pieces of luggage, balancing a coffee, and fishing for change to give the cashier. I sensed the people behind me were annoyed.

"Totally." I said. "What's up?"

It was time to dish, to start to process all that had gone on that Saturday, stuff that we were too busy or frazzled to actually absorb at the BlogHer conference.

"How are you feeling today?" Lisa asked, meaning, "How'd you think it went?"

"I feel amazing."

"Yeah?"

"Yep...you?"

"Me too."

As we started to discuss the day (Lisa never got a BlogHer/Google tote bag!) a theme arose. Sure, there'd be plenty of logistical details to hash out in an official post mortem (cough cough, wireless connection). But all we could think to talk about were the PEOPLE we met, the QUALITY of the discussion. It occurred to me, for all the planning to make the conference go off without a hitch, the real success was in the energy of the attendees. They generated the content, the conversations, the connections. All we had to do is make sure they had a place to do these things.

Don't get me wrong--the details were necessary, but what really differentiated the conference for me was observing this community take care of itself, entertain itself, educate itself, promote itself, and--when necessary--laugh at itself.

I've been writing about the Power of the X Chromosome, which I define as qualities unique to women that cultivate effective leadership when used to their potential. I think that these qualities--communication, connectedness, humilty--were in play all weekend. (And may I add that it was exhibited as strongly with our male BlogHers, all of whom seemed to "get"--or at the very least, be in awe of--the powerful dynamic generated in TechMart.)

Let me drill down a bit and go through my experience of the weekend, if for any other reason, before I forget it.