Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

Slow Down

On grateful.org they pose a question a day in a community space. One that I thought about from multiple angles: "Where, or when, could I create a bit of space to truly slow down?"

Photo of yellow diamond-shaped traffic sign with text SLOW DOWN. Sign is against a clear blue sky.


"Truly slowing down" may or may not be a desirable goal. I can read this question multiple ways.

Slow down: Don't be so hard on yourself for not getting 5,247 things done every day. 

I've gotten much better at that with age. Even if I had an empty in-box when I stop working tonight, more would show up tomorrow. There is no "done", there is doing and being.

Slow down: Don't try to multitask. 

My brain works well when I have many plates spinning and I enjoy that feeling of being able to shift from one topic to the next to the next (which is what's really happening when people say they're multitasking; we're actually processing in serial, not parallel). Each serves to cross-fertilize with the others. But they need time for that fertilization process.

Slow down: Don't over-commit or sign up for things you don't really want to do. 

OK, yes, I could work on this a bit and say "enough" when my plate is as full as I want it to be. When I do that I feel both guilt and relief. I remind myself the answer isn't just "no" to this, it's "yes" to something else.

Slow down: Giving your best doesn't require giving your everything.

In my younger years I sometimes burned the candle at both ends and from the middle and loved the intensity even if it wore me out at times. As a result of that investment (and recognizing that I have privilege that contributed as well) I’ve been able to build a career that means I don’t have to run at quite the same pace but I still feel the intensity and commitment.

Slow down: Don't work all the time. 

I'm very good at having real weekends. I read, I go for a long walk with my sweet husband to downtown, we might decide to go out for lunch, I might do a big cooking extravaganza, which is one of my favorite activities. Ditto for real evenings; when I sign off at the end of the workday I'm off and I ask my staff to do the same.

Slow down: Pay attention. 

I've had mindfulness practices in one form or another for years now. All of them embed some form of "pay attention". I can take a brisk walk for the health benefits of active movement and pay attention to the shapes and colors of fall leaves, the flash of white on a dove's back as it takes flight to join the whole flock of them that likes to roost in a tall pine tree I can see out my kitchen window, the sound of the frog that croaks somewhere in a neighbor's yard, the colors of the flowers my neighbor at the corner carefully selects so we have beauty all season long, the two-tone whistle of a bird I have yet to identify.

I can talk with my sweetheart or my daughters and make sure I'm really paying attention, not listening with half an ear while I work on something else. 

I can savor and appreciate the flavors of foods I'm eating or the aroma of something I'm cooking.

Slow down: Remember to breathe.

On my desk I keep a rock I found on one of my walks. It has three sides visible when it sits on its flat bottom side. On each of these I've written one word: Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Some days when I feel as if I haven't really done that, I pick it up and hold it for a couple of full, slow breaths.

Slow down: Make room for slow.

Related reading

Walking in March: Of Woods and Work

My February walk in the rain forest at Lake Quinault involved soaring trees, mosses, quiet trails, and the sound of water. And guess what—I have all those within a 15-minute walk from my front door. 
Photo looking up through a circle of tall evergreens at blue sky overhead

Well, technically not the rain forest label. But we're fortunate to have found a house very near Squaxin Park, which offers up over 300 acres of woods, a mile of shoreline, and trails that wind through and connect to offer any number of ways to wander.

Back up over two years ago to when we still lived in Seattle, in a corner of the Top Hat neighborhood with no sidewalks, no big natural park within an easy walking distance. 

Photo at the junction of two paths in the woods coming together at a V. Large ferns cluster at the base of the tree trunks. When the pandemic struck the state of Washington before any other state, our governor and the state agency I work for responded swiftly. In my journal I noted March 10, 2020, as the first day of 100% working from home. 

In those early days as we pivoted to the online work world we needed to figure out ways to stay connected and stay up to date on the unfolding emergency. Our leadership instituted a weekly call for senior managers. Each call ended with encouragement to make sure we were taking care of ourselves and our coworkers while we continued to serve the people of Washington under enormous strains and shifts. The call often ended with the words, "Be kind. Be kind to yourself, be kind to others."

One of the ways I found to do this was to make that particular meeting a walking meeting. Now, usually a walking meeting involves walking and talking with other people. I had those other people with me via the headset I wore as I walked laps around the outside of our house, carrying my phone so it could count my steps.

This got me moving if I'd been sitting or standing too long in one place, staring at the screen and typing typing typing. It also made me a much better meeting participant. Why? Because while I was walking and listening I was only walking and listening. I wasn't reading and answering email with half an ear attuned to the meeting. I wasn't trying to multitask, which isn't even a real capability of the human brain. I was being kind to myself.

Photo of a small water feature made of wood and stone with water falling into a small basin. Evergreen trees, shrubs, and other undergrowth stand behind it.[Side note on my various forms of privilege that show up in this story, including my ability to buy these homes: I fully recognized then and know that my ability to stay home, warm, fed, and powered relied on the work of thousands of people who kept going into workplaces, being exposed to a virus we didn't understand for which we had no vaccine, and dying at higher rates than those of in these white-collar desk jobs. It still does, they still are, they still do, and I don't forget that.]

Just over three years later teleworking is still my daily reality. Our agency goal is to maintain a high percentage of teleworking so those of us whose jobs lend themselves to that format continue to reduce those vehicle miles traveled by not traveling them at all. I could go into the office occasionally if I wanted to, but the building is mostly empty; it doesn't have the "juice" of those chance hallway conversations that enrich our work by giving us a new idea or an insight into a different way of thinking about what we do.

Photo of a large tree in front of which a plywood stand holds a beige rotary phone mounted vertically and a sheet of paper that explains the phone. At the foot of the pole holding the phone, a thick scattering of rose petals and a variety of small objects cover the ground. Walking meetings are also still part of my work life. I select a meeting that doesn't require me to view a lot of slides on screen, although I can actually look at those on my phone if I need to. I put on that headset and head out the door. Within a few blocks I'm in the woods, listening with focused attention to the meeting content and resting my screen-worn eyes with the trees overhead, the water below the little footbridge, the offerings people leave at the Telephone of the Winds in memory of loved ones who have died.

Another way I make walking part of my work life while being kind to myself: Occasionally on a lunch break I put on a podcast and head for those woods. Listening to smart people interviewing interesting guests on a variety of topics yields some of those insights, those new ways of approaching a topic or a scenario that I might have gained from a hallway conversation. I listen to some that are quite obviously "about" work, in that they focus on transportation. Others that aren't transportation-focused stimulate my brain with new knowledge. I'm stepping away from that direct task focus and giving myself permission to let an idea or a question simmer a while before coming back to pin it down. 

This time of stepping away is a critical part of brain work. Einstein is famously said to have come up with the Theory of Relativity while riding his bicycle.* The movement of my body through space and my brain coming along for the ride may not yield world-changing science, but it makes me feel better, think better, live better. I'm balanced between woods and work.

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.  
— Albert Einstein

Related listening
Don't tell the hosts, but I don't listen to every episode of every podcast I'm subscribed to. This list is a sampling; over the years I've subscribed to others and the list is ever-evolving. What am I missing that you think is a must-listen, and why do you think that? What makes it a good companion for a walk?
*Snopes says there's no attribution for this Einstein statement about coming up with the Theory of Relativity while riding his bicycle. But the American Museum of Natural History included it in their Einstein exhibit so I'm going with them. Their description of how the insight ties to riding a bike makes sense to me: "No matter how fast Einstein rides his bike, the light coming from his headlight always moves at the same speed." Snopes says the statement about how life is like riding a bicycle is a paraphrase of something he wrote in a letter to his son Eduard dated Feb. 5, 1940.


2022 in Review: Blogging and a Bit More

2022 was a pretty quiet year in my blogging life until the last few weeks. I lost my writing mojo in 2020 when the world went dark, other than the writing I needed to do for work, and only this fall and winter did I start making an effort to write again. 

We still have a global pandemic and people still die from COVID-19 and its Greek-numbered variants. I've been vaxxed, vaxxed again, boosted, boosted, variant-boosted, and I still mask in crowds, stores, and mass-transit settings. The number of people doing the same has dwindled; sometimes I'm the only person wearing a mask. 

I'm fortunate to have a job that lets me telework 100%. I do travel a bit, eat occasionally in restaurants, shop in stores (masked), and occasionally have a social life with people I know are vaccinated and maintaining precautions. We kept up the grocery online order/pick-up habit because dang, that's lower stress than going into a store full of lots of people coughing, especially this time of year with the "tripledemic" in the news (COVID-19, flu, respiratory syncytial virus, with that last one usually only producing mild cold-like symptoms but breaking out much more seriously this year, especially in children). 

I haven't had COVID-19 yet that I know of. (I do have my suspicions about a few days of feeling under the weather during which I kept testing negative after attending a big conference and receiving a lot of texts and emails from people I'd talked with saying they had tested positive.) Nor have I had the flu, a cold, or any other contagious respiratory illness. Masks are awesome.

You would think that with all this non-social time on my hands I would have done more writing. It's been more like "what do we binge next?" at our house, to be honest, plus a lot of books read. At any rate, here's 2022's short list:

In May I tried to plan ahead for a special round-number birthday celebration: Counting up the Years. This was a lot of fun, coming up with things I could do that don't all cost money; instead they cost the far more rare and precious elements of time and attention. 

As part of my job, I get to coordinate with the office of Washington Gov. Jay Inslee on the proclamation for Bike Month. I wrote Bike Everywhere Month Rolls in May for the WSDOT Blog to share that—especially happy to do that in the year in which the Washington state legislature passed the historic Move Ahead Washington package with record-breaking levels of investment in active transportation and public transportation and dedicated future funding from a new carbon tax. That same package included a directive to WSDOT, where I work, to apply Complete Streets principles on all our projects, which is game-changing in a way that adds to the value of those new investments.

Both my long list of fun ideas and my bike riding took a turn for the worse September 1 when this happened: Broken Wrist, Dang It! No Riding for a While.

Revisiting my bike blog revealed I had a problem numbering in the tens of thousands that required drastic action in subscriber management: So long, spammers (with apologies to real people). [Honestly, this one isn't worth reading; noting it only in the spirit of full disclosure of lessons learned.]

I was delighted to write State Active Transportation Plan receives multiple awards for the WSDOT Blog. The plan my team worked on starting in late 2018 got slowed by the pandemic, and became final toward the end of December 2021. Over the course of 2022 the plan won state, regional, and national awards. And for an extra dose of woohoo, the new Move Ahead Washington transportation investment package wrote the plan into state law as a resource for identifying gaps in walk/bike/roll networks to prioritize for investment.

In November when things got weird with Twitter, its potential demise looming, I grabbed the archive of the many faces of Tiggs in The Kitten Chronicles, Year One, The Kitten Chronicles, Year Two, and The Kitten Chronicles, Year Three. I share a picture or funny story every so often, adding to a thread I started the day we brought him home. He can be a real poophead sometimes—ask me about the holes he's eaten into a lot of good merino wool clothing—but he's also brought joy.

Now I was on a roll and Twitter was still there to inspire a bike blog post: What’s in a Name? Acoustic or Analog, Regular or Traditional Bicycle*. (But just in case, I started up a Mastodon account, @BarbChamberlain@toot.community.)

I rolled right into wanting to do something to reflect on the National Day of Mourning (labeled Thanksgiving on the federal holiday calendar) and Native American Heritage Day and compiled a post I've had in the back of my mind for a couple of years now: “We Are Still Here”: Indigenous-focused Bicycle Programs.

I treat that long four-day weekend (since I get those days off) as a chance to do cooking that takes time, although I don't try to get an entire fancy meal on the table in one fell swoop. Thus I dove into Vegan Cranberry Caramelized Red Onion Orange Chutney Recipe Experimentation.

My morning routine includes reading poetry. Along the way I've encountered more than one poem that somehow involves bicycles. Hence, “I think/therefore/I ride.” A Bike Rack of Bicycle Poems. Like the Kitten Chronicles, that started as a Twitter thread. I invited suggestions, which yielded some of the poems in my post, and I'm continuing the thread so I expect another post in the future. I started a second thread of transportation poems and that's likely to result in a post as well.

Watching TV with my sweetie, a reference to the Internet of Things sparked some wordplay. We agreed that An Alphabet of Things seemed possible, and a while later I put it together with some of our thoughts and only one bit of research (to find the X word).

As the year drew to a close, I marked the winter solstice during my morning poetry-reading time, which led to Winter Solstice Readings.

My relationship with resolutions has varied over the years. This year I'm making it both fun and easy by thinking in terms of "joy snacks" in Commitment, Bite-Sized and Tasty. To help people get rolling by bike (or some other climate-friendly mode) whether or not they're "resolution types", I rounded up my blog posts over the years that discuss forming new habits, tracking/not tracking your riding, and the nature of commitment in New Year, New Mode(s).

The last day of the year held so many simple pleasures—joy snacks:

  • went for a long walk with my sweetheart on what proved to be a sunny, beautiful day after a week of rain, to downtown Olympia for a coffee date and a stop at Peacock Vintage; 
  • rode Zelda the e-bike on my first bike ride since breaking my wrist, woohoo!; 
  • baked a delicious vegan dish, a tofu/caramelized onion/mushroom filling in a pie dish lined with thin slices of yam; 
  • sewed trim onto the hem of a coat that Tiggs had chewed a hole in, hiding the mended spot and making the coat wearable;
  • did yoga, making today one of my "triathlons" (walk 5,000 steps or more, ride my bike, and do yoga all in a day); 
  • finished this blog post; and
  • enjoyed red wine and delicious chocolate at the end of the day while relaxing on the sofa.
A very satisfying way to close out 2022 indeed.




Changing Again:

“Everything changes and nothing stands still.”

Heraclitus summed it up nicely, don’t you think? (You remember him--the Greek philosopher who said, "You can never step in the same river twice."

Three and a half years ago I made a big leap. From Spokane to Seattle, from the security of work as a public employee to the responsibility of leading a nonprofit, from a city where it felt as if my network gave me one and a half degrees of separation from everyone in town to a major metropolitan area known for its “freeze” reception.

And it all worked out just fine.

The move: First to a borrowed condo in the heart of downtown, situated right on the duck boat tour route and they play the same song at the same point Every. Single. Time. But we could walk to Pike Place Market, bike along Elliott Bay Trail through the Myrtle Edwards Sculpture Park, and find good coffee on every corner. (It’s Seattle, after all.)

Next, north to a Lake City rental on a little side street near a park. Walking distance to great falafel and sushi, express bus service or an hour’s bike ride to downtown. Nothing special but a really functional layout when it was just the two of us. When we had all four of our adult-sized children with us and one bathroom, not so much.

This summer we bought a house in an untrendy neighborhood near White Center. “Untrendy” can be translated as  “within our price range in a crazed red-hot real estate market.” Great house, great layout, great yard, and three whole bathrooms. (You can come home now, kids.) I shortened my bike ride to work, with the bonus that 6 of the 8 miles are on either a separated path or a bike lane with sidewalk option. We still have access to restaurants with cuisines from around the world, we’re only two miles from my older brother and his wife, and we have easy access to the highway connections and airport I need for work travel.

The job—big change again. When I came to the Bicycle Alliance of Washington as executive director we had a great track record that was relatively unknown beyond the circle of people who watch bike advocacy closely.

We’d led work in Olympia for nearly 3 decades, producing a dozen laws for safety, education, and enforcement. Our communication work hadn’t kept up with our policy work, and I set out to change that.

We stepped up our social media game big time. Today we have over four times as many Facebook followers and nearly 10 times as many Twitter followers, with high engagement on both fronts. We increased our blog content production, giving us more to share on social media, and saw the results in our site traffic. And we rebranded to become Washington Bikes, an action-oriented and easily remembered name that lends itself to all kinds of programs within our mission. As we liked to tell people, "When our work succeeds, Washington Bikes."

The effort to build a large and engaged following paid off time and again as we worked for even more policy wins. Each year we achieved a new high in state funding for biking and walking. We passed policy bills. We expanded the base of support for bike investments by positioning bike travel and tourism as economic development assets, particularly for small towns and rural regions that need it most.

When it came time for the state to put together a transportation revenue package, we had enough legislative support in both houses and on both sides of the aisle to see bike/walk investments actually increase during the final negotiations, to end at around half a billion over the next 16 years--the biggest investment in state history. That’s Billion with a B. That revenue package then faced the threat of executive action that would strip our dollars. We led a bold campaign with the help of the allies we’d been partnering with to shape and spread our message framing, and we won.

Alongside this effort we were engaged in exciting conversations about the possibility of merging with Cascade Bicycle Club. They focus on the most populous region of the state with a larger staff than ours, making them a significant partner in many ways. Their executive director Elizabeth Kiker, who came to Seattle the year after I did, became a friend and colleague right from the start. 

The discussions over the course of the summer and fall hinged on whether their board and staff understood what it meant to us to be the statewide bike nonprofit—not just in Olympia, but around the state, connecting with, seeding, and supporting local advocacy efforts that lay the foundation for legislative success. We articulated and discussed what matters most in our work and saw how much alignment our missions already had, along with the increased efficiencies we could gain from a merger. 

Ultimately both boards voted in favor of the merger on December 8. The Cascade board embraces the Washington Bikes mission, staff members look forward to learning what it will mean for their work as it evolves, and we’ll be able to do more over the long run for the people who care about better bicycling and safer streets. Together we constitute the nation's largest bike nonprofit.

So on January 1, 2016, I’ll no longer be the executive director of Washington Bikes. The name still exists, and I’ll serve as Chief Strategic Officer for both Washington Bikes and Cascade Bicycle Club. Our stellar statewide policy director, Blake Trask, will become Senior Director of Policy for both entities, aligning advocacy work in the Puget Sound with state work. 

I’ll continue to lead communications, with the exciting new challenge of shaping two brands that need to be complementary and connected and with more staff to support the effort. As the statewide ambassador of the merged organization I'll keep working to strengthen the relationships we have with groups and individuals all around Washington. And in this first critical year of the merged organization I'll be stewarding the history and vision of our organization as we blend our programs with Cascade's and plan together for what the future will look like.

As for the network I had in Spokane, it’s still there. It’s been extended to include friends from Bellingham to Port Angeles to Wenatchee to Vancouver to Tri-Cities to Pullman, and even beyond that, to Texas, California, New York, Georgia, Iowa, Florida, Oregon, Idaho. It doesn’t feel quite the same as seeing the same faces every month at a meeting of Greater Spokane Incorporated or welcoming city, state, and federal officials to an event for WSU Spokane, but it has its own rewards. 

With my change in duties and the larger organizational infrastructure to work with, I’ll finally have time to pursue some of my interests outside work that have been shelved while I focused intensely on extending our presence. That will further enrich my circle of friends and connections. I expect continued opportunities for professional growth at the same time I restore some much-needed balance.

The past three years have held changes and challenges. Beyond those listed here, to list just a few: 

My children have matured to become young adults. Eldest Daughter lives and works in Spokane, Second Daughter lives in New York while she attends college and pursues her musical theater ambitions, and my husband's two teenagers are with us on a schedule constrained by school and other obligations so we're practically empty-nesters much of the time, except when we're not. 

My dad died just a few months after we moved to Seattle; my mom died a year ago just after Mother's Day; my husband’s father died unexpectedly later that summer. 

In May of this year my husband crashed during a race and broke multiple facial bones (with full recovery), I had a heart health scare that turned out to be nothing (but boy, is it ever expensive to figure out "nothing"). 

To quote another wise sage, Roseanna Roseannadanna, "It's always something. If it isn't one thing, it's another."


And now it's time for another thing.

Tab Set: What I'm Reading

When I'm online I make heavy use of the CTRL-Click feature. If you hold the CTRL key when you click on a link, that link opens in its own tab rather than taking you away from the page you're on. This inevitably means that in any given day I spawn a lot of open tabs of articles I mean to get around to reading.

Given my varied interests and the kinds of things my friends and other contacts share in social media, that leaves me with quite the eclectic mix. I share today's tabs in hopes that you'll find something to amuse, stimulate, or inspire in some way.

  • How to Make Your Own Laundry Detergent: I've been meaning to do this for years. In fact, I bought the ingredients in Spokane before we moved--18 months ago. So it's high time and the fact that we're almost out of laundry detergent prompted me to go look this up. Did you know that gallon for gallon, liquid detergent costs more than gasoline? I'm on it.
  • Everyday Rider: Riding Out Your Period: On the Bicycling Magazine blog by my friend Elly Blue.
  • You're Not as Visible On a Bike at Night as You Think, New Study Shows: From BikePortland, a piece I looked up to share with Elly (although she lives there so I imagine she's seen it) for a discussion on Facebook about things she could write about in her column for Bicycling.
  • The Anthropology of Walking: Has me thinking about how my bike-riding patterns might fit into the findings of a study of foragers and reflecting on my reading of Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.
  • This Is Love: A very sweet cartoon strip on overcoming hurts to your heart and loving again, which someone shared on Facebook and I reshared. This illustrates what my Sweet Hubs did for me.
  • Which Musical Should You Star In? I don't take every quiz that crosses my path, but with Second Daughter now a sophomore majoring in musical theater I had to take this one. ("Rent," for the record. Also, if I were a Star Wars character I'd be Yoda, and I scored 87 out of 100 on "Are You a Millennial?")
  • Tsunami House by Designs Northwest Architects Stands Strong in the Face of Tidal Waves: I'd move into this gorgeous Camano Island house in a heartbeat--never mind the tsunamis. Sweet Hubs and I have agreed that we like a bit of the industrial (despite the fact that I've picked older/historic houses for the last two purchased) and want a certain Zen minimalism when we finally settle somewhere other than a rental. Since moving to Seattle we've lived in downtown and in Northeast Seattle and I'd like to check out more neighborhoods before deciding.
  • The Nonprofit Weekly Roundup: Secrets, Emals, and Tips for Better Donor Retention in 2014: I work at a nonprofit. 'Nuff said.
  • The Role of Brand in the Nonprofit Sector: Since we changed our name November 2013 to Washington Bikes (formerly Bicycle Alliance of Washington) I think about this a lot. This piece from the Stanford Social Innovation Review popped up in social media somewhere.
  • Demystifying Scaling, Part I: Another piece from the Stanford Social Innovation Review I'm reading because as a statewide organization with a small staff, Washington Bikes has to be smart in how we scale our work for maximum impact and effectiveness. We'll be adding a new staff position in Spokane soon (geographical scaling) and are exploring some technology innovations that could help us reach more people.
That should represent sufficient randomness. And now, off to ride my bike. The sun is shining and the birds at the feeders look pretty happy.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes


(Not all the lyrics fit my point--it's the refrain I was going for.)

We’re creatures of habit. We floss daily—or we don’t. We sleep on the same side of the bed every night. We buy the same brand of cereal or variety of fruit over and over. When a kid does something we hear our parents’ phrases come out of our mouths even though we swore we’d never do that.

We tend to take the same route to work every day. Although I’d argue that riding a bike frees the mind so I’m less likely to get stuck in that particular rut, I do park in the same spot in the bike rack every day. When I had to change “my” spot because someone else was getting there before me and using it, I felt the mental wrench. Now my “new” spot is “my” spot and I don’t even look at the other one. So we can change.

What would it take for you to make radical changes in your life? To develop all-new routines and relationships?

While I wasn’t looking to shake things up dramatically, that's what the next phase of my life holds, at least for a while.

Given the chance of a lifetime to pursue a long-held dream—to run an organization doing something I believe in passionately—I’ve accepted the position of executive director of the Bicycle Alliance of Washington. With headquarters in Seattle. And I start in four weeks. The professional opportunity excites me and offers a great challenge, coming as it does at a critical time for active transportation because of the cuts in federal funding. 

There are losses as well as gains, of course. This post isn't about the sad parts of moving, like leaving my best friend and my older daughter (Skype! Text! Facebook! Maybe even actual phone calls!) and my work and colleagues at WSU Spokane. I haven't had to do those things yet so that will hit more as the departure date draws closer.

Instead it's about the chance to reshape some other elements in my life, which is giving me a charge I hadn’t expected as Eric and I pack up the house. For example:

I get to walk away from every decorating decision I’ve ever made! We’re going to rent our house furnished rather than try to sell it in this market and initially will live in a small furnished condo belonging to my brother and his wife while we look for a permanent place.

We’ll put a few pieces into storage, but only a few. When we settle I can change everything: color schemes, style (such as it was), the overall mish-mash of things from my childhood and pieces I’ve acquired through more than one marriage and move.

I will finally acknowledge that certain craft projects will never come to fruition. I already gave away two big bags of leftover yarn that will go to a high school knitting club. I have 5 yards of a beautiful lightweight wool herringbone that I snagged when I cleaned out my parents’ house—in 2001! After more than a decade I’m clearly not going to whip up a fabulous suit the way I thought I would and I’m giving it to a friend. I bought candle-making supplies, did it a few times, wasn’t all that great at creating candles that would burn down consistently, and am giving those away.

I’m not getting rid of my grandmother's knitting needles or my mom's sewing machine, mind you. I’m just getting rid of the flotsam and jetsam of projects both finished and abandoned.

How old are those spices anyway? I love to cook so over the years I have accumulated many a jar of something used once, then filed alphabetically in my spice drawer. At some point in 2008 I started writing the month and year of purchase on the tops of the lids so at least I know just how stale most of that drawerfull is. I’m going to pitch everything older than 2011 since they all smell roughly the same and presumably would impart no flavor to the dish.

Where did all these dishes come from? I’m not quite clear on how I ended up owning five glass pie pans but I know I’ve never baked more than three pies at a time. I bet I could make perfectly good layer cakes with  a set of nine-inch pans or a set of ten-inch, but I've never needed both at the same time. And so on through utensils, pots, pans, knives, and everything else in an  over-stocked kitchen.

Many of my books deserve new readers. This actually started 6 years ago when we moved out of a 5,000-square-foot house with lots of built-in bookshelves and wall space for even more. The house we moved into has less wall space and only a few built-in shelves.

At that time I set free quite a few books to find new homes and acquired a whopping credit at Auntie’s in return. The inevitable result of that, of course, was that the stacks of books crept back up. I now own a Kindle to reduce my carbon footprint and am going to keep only a few special volumes. (The signed copy of Joyride by Mia Birk goes to Seattle with me, of course.)

Style purge! This one is trickier. I’m changing to a different climate and my sweaters will come in handy. But anything I’ve been keeping with the thought that it’s perfectly good and surely I’ll wear it one of these days is going away. I've been shopping for bike-friendly fashion for a long time so no big adjustment is needed there.

So there you have it. I'm packing, sorting, dumping, and giving things to friends; visiting favorite places one more time; tying up loose ends on work projects; and looking down the road and around the bend to something new. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-changes indeed!

Related Reading
Your Turn
  • If you cleaned as if you were moving, what would you get rid of?
  • What are you waiting for?

Real-time reviews of job applicants, or, I can be brutally honest. Just watch.

What are we really thinking when we read your job application? For my stream of consciousness on applicants for a reasonably senior level communications job at a public research university, I share the tweets I sent out while reviewing 61 job applications.

For advice on applying for a public-sector communications job at lengths much greater than 140 characters, see Public sector communications jobs 101.

These are listed in the order in which I tweeted them, top to bottom. This is the reverse of the way you would read them if you scrolled back through my profile on that fine, fine day filled with so much joy at the incredible credentials and mad job-applying skills on parade. Thank heavens for coffee.
  • Apparently it bears repeating: When filling out job app/writing cover ltr/updating resume, PROOFREAD. Espec for comm job. Gee whiz.
  • If your cover ltr tells me "I am an experience communications professional" I don't believe you.
  • Job hunters: Don't use grandiose language. 10 years does not="vast experience". It=delusions of grandeur.
  • When applying for ANY job in public sector make sure you address EVERY component of job descrip in yr application.
  • Why? At WSU we use numerical ranking/scoring sheet. I can't give you points if you don't tell me what you can do/have done.
  • Another public-sector job hunting tip: Find & interview someone who has position like what you're applying for. Really. Trust me.
  • Another job hunting tip: Don't use "insider" acronyms. Forces me to search to figure out what you're talking about. This makes me cranky.
  • Job hunting tip: If job app form asks "reason for leaving" & you leave it blank, I can only speculate, & I have a healthy imagination.
  • Job hunters: Use typefaces/fonts consistently on your resume. Please. & logical page breaks/header placement while you're at it.
  • Job hunters: Do not get "creative" with punctuation. Using / as a separator all over your resume? Annoying.
  • Job hunters: Love it love love it when your cover ltr blows me away. It is not just a transmittal & your resume won't do all the work.
  • Job hunters in communications: We teach architecture @WSUSpokane. You are not a conversation architect. Trust me on this.
  • Re last tweet: I tend to take exception to trendy jargony buzzwordy stuff in job applications. Maybe you noticed.
  • Job hunters: Personally, I wouldn't put "conflicts w/supervisor" as reason for leaving a job. That spells Trouble with a capital T.
  • Job hunters: Don't forget to change "career objective" so it actually matches position you're applying for....
  • Job hunters: You have many fine professional qualities. Emphasize those. They're relevant. It's just great that you're "fun-loving"...
  • Job hunters: Use standard typefaces. Otherwise your accomplishments print out in Courier. Looks old-fashioned.
  • Job hunters: Detail on job app form doesn't eliminate need for detail in resume. You're making me look 2 places to understand yr career
  • Job hunters: The passive voice is to be avoided.
  • Job hunters: Surprise! Leaving dates off resume to disguise short stints doesn't work if we also have you fill out job app form.
  • Job hunters: If you say "freelancer" provide DETAIL: types of clients/projects/tasks/outcomes. Otherwise freelancer=unemployed.
  • Job hunters: Assume you won't get chance to "expand on resume in person." We need to know you can do job BEFORE interview. Ltr/resume=ALL


Public sector communications job applications 101

Young job seekers get advised by their teachers to do “informational interviews” to gain an understanding of job opportunities and expectations at a given workplace (and, secretly, in hopes of being top of mind if an opening comes up, which only works if you stay in touch following said interview).

I always make myself available for these. I like sharing what I’ve learned (hence my addiction to Twitter, the ultimate sharing/learning space) and it makes for good karma. I work in a mid-sized city with approximately one and one-half degrees of separation and just about everyone in my profession knows everyone else, so it really does help people plug into the network of communications/PR/marketing folks.

Based on what I’ve seen serving on quite a few search committees in the public sector, the informational-interview advice applies to everyone, not just those wet-behind-the-ears recent grads. 

This is particularly true for people seeking to move from the private sector into the public sector, or from a profession they believe is related to the position for which they are applying. The assumptions some of you make—honestly!

I offer some basics here for your consideration. In another post I share some quite flippant remarks from the trenches tweeted in real time while I plowed through 61 applications in a row, fortified by coffee.

Understand the job. Interview people doing the same thing or similar work, and people in the agency or institution you want to work for. If you can interview someone who left the job, even better.

Understand the field. Especially if you seek to make a change, you need to prove how your past experience prepares you for new responsibilities and challenges. I see this omission a lot in people working in the media who want to move into PR: “I dealt with people in positions like this one, so I know what your job entails.”

Really? Well, I’ve dealt with my doctor so that means I know how to perform surgery. I’ve dealt with my kid’s teacher so that means I know how to manage a room full of hormone-ridden, anxious teenagers. 

Prove it, because honestly, that’s a really insulting statement. How does “I’ve watched you on TV so I know how to be a reporter” feel? (Yes, your work in the media is good preparation. You just have to show you understand in what ways it was preparation for this job.)

Understand the process. What are their hiring and screening procedures? Ask. Someone will tell you. Timelines can be really, really l-o-n-g. . . .

Follow the process. We have to treat everyone going through it the same way so it doesn’t pay to try to end-run it. Remember, most hiring committees are looking for the fastest possible way to winnow the pile, and throwing out people who disregard procedures (especially for a job in the procedure-heavy public sector) is a really fast way to do so.

Understand the position description (PD). Every element is in there for a reason. Sometimes the reasons were created by the last person in the position not performing as expected and the PD was updated to compensate.

Understand the job of the reviewer. Address every element of the PD in your application. We don’t guess, we don’t read between the lines, we don’t give a lot of points for creativity if your creativity fails to help us understand your qualifications.

Understand reality and demonstrate your firm grip on it. Don’t use superlatives or grandiose language. One application referred to “my vast experience.” This “vast experience” consisted of 10 years in a related field, but not doing anything like what the position called for. This is not vast experience, this is delusions of grandeur.

Proofread, people, proofread! Really. Truly. When the first sentence of the cover letter starts out “I am an experience communications professional” I know you’re not. When you go on to use the word “experience” again in that sentence, I know you’re not a very good writer, either.

If you get the interview, ask the names and titles of those you will be meeting with. This is generally not secret information.

Prepare for the interview. Do some research. Come prepared to connect with the interviewers as individuals (just not in a creepy stalkerish way). Understand where they fit in the organization and how they will (or won’t) work on a regular basis with the position you want. This will frame their questions and how they process your answers. Hey, you may even be able to speak directly to something you know interests that person (hint: I like and utilize social media).

Prepare some more for the interview. Come prepared to demonstrate that you have connected already with the institution. I still recall years ago when an internal candidate seeking a promotion flunked my question, which was to talk about the degrees offered by the unit in which she worked.

How many times have people demonstrated that they haven’t even bothered to read the website? I’ve lost count. It may be out of date (extra points if you recognize this possibility and look around for other sources and you won't believe the points I give if you demonstrate you looked in social networks) but it’s the public face. Use it.

Goes without saying, but I’m sayin’ it: Treat everyone—everyone—with respect and courtesy. One of my favorite little tricks (now you know) is to make sure we include someone with the title of Administrative Assistant in the interview. If you ignore this person repeatedly, or always and only address your answers to the highest title in the room, you’ve blown it.

In higher ed and I’m sure in many other public agencies, departmental secretaries are your best friends and story ideas and resources come from people throughout the entire organizational food chain. If you don’t get that (and if you’re that much of a snob), so long.

For a blow-me-away bonus round, send thank-you notes. Handwritten. Personally addressed to individuals you met. This happens so rarely it almost brings tears to my eyes, and it definitely brings a smile to my face. An e-mail thank is better than nothing. If you do that, please for heaven’s sake take the extra 120 seconds it requires to send individual emails rather than a bulk email to the entire committee.

This isn't everything but believe me, if you follow this checklist you are miles ahead of most of the applicants.

Special PS for "senior" communications practitioners: If you don't think you need to learn anything about this new-fangled social media fad because you have decades of vast experience, think again.

Social media: Drinking from the firehose, being the ocean

Over a year ago I read three questions from @RickButts on Twitter. To experience them the way I did, scrolling back through a few pages of tweets that came up while I was catching up on blog posts in my Google Reader feeds, you have to see them in reverse order, last one first:
  • Do we REALLY need all the new resources that provide useful information - when it comes as interruption to our goals?
  • By this I mean higher thinking vs over-focusing on trivial to useless information?
  • Do you think reading Twitter stream every day makes you smarter or dumber?
The same day, I read a blog post from Zen Habits on the six gifts we can give our loved ones of presence, love, compassion, voice, healthy lifestyle, and belief in them (don’t just read the list of words here—go read the post. Just don’t forget to come back).

The combination of these two inputs made me think about the amount and type of input I receive—and what my output looks like.


Am I present in these spaces, as well as for my family? If not, I shouldn’t waste my time and yours. But it’s really, really tough to be present—in the sense of being mindful and aware—in the online medium that invites you every nano-second to click away to another bright, shiny new toy.

You only learn social media by doing: reading and commenting on blog posts, setting up a Facebook page and finding friends, starting a blog (which I did with no clear idea of its voice or purpose—definitely something to do differently the next time), creating a Twitter account/finding people to follow/attracting followers.

This is professional development for me, keeping up on the latest communication tools. Doing all this as an individual let me learn before applying the lessons to my institution so the mistakes are in my name, not theirs.

Drinking from a firehose is time-consuming. There’s just no way to accomplish this in a standard 40-hour work week; I spend plenty of late nights and weekends. As I noted a year ago, I tend to take on an overload when I plunge into something anyway.

I’ve brought that same intensity to my social media explorations. I didn’t just focus on the main channel, whatever that might be—Facebook? Blog? Twitter? I checked out all the tributaries with the same gusto. Or, you might say, I flitted like a hummingbird from flower to flower, sipping sipping sipping (although the attraction to shiny new objects makes me more magpie than hummingbird).

The learning experience has been great. I’ve used the lessons for work—we won an award for my use of the Twitter account @WSUSpokane as an identity-building tool and I was named a Senior Fellow of the Society for New Communications Research. I’ve also built some online presence for the volunteer organizations I love like Bike to Work Spokane. I became an invited blogger—love the sound of that—on Cycling Spokane. I now speak regularly at local and regional conferences on Twitter and other uses of social media. I even got interviewed on Gov 2.0 radio.

In the year since I read those tweets and that post, the reasons to be thoughtful about inputs and outputs have only increased. 
  • I’ve subscribed to and unsubscribed from quite a few blogs, seeking the right mix of creative inspiration, fresh insights, and a manageable Google Reader queue. 
  • I’ve scrubbed the list of people I follow on Twitter several times and finally instituted a comprehensive use of lists to help me remember why I wanted to follow a particular account in the first place. (I don't use utilities like Tweetdeck to organize--I prefer to view Twitter as a river flowing by and sip from the stream as I have time.)
  • I keep making another run at using LinkedIn more effectively to find resources and connect with people—I know it has value I haven’t found because I haven’t put in the time. 
  • One of these days maybe I’ll really start utilizing LaunchPadINW, the local social network.
What I’m trying to do in all these spaces is be more thoughtful about whether I’m truly adding value when I tweet or post versus just distributing random mist. A sense that I’m adding value will keep the firehose manageable for me.

Mindfulness is the secret. The tweets that just pop out like a flood—say, when I’m live-tweeting a conference—aren’t mindful ones. If I’m making a conscious decision about whether or not to subscribe, follow or tweet, it will mean I’m aware and present in the moment. That will slow me down.

This question of value will continue to grow in importance for all of us as the volume just continues to increase. Otherwise how will our little drops of water jump out above the torrent and get noticed?

Bearing in mind, that is, that our sense of being separate droplets is an illusion. We’re all the ocean.

Snow Day

A snow day starts early.

My job includes managing emergency communications, so if there’s any question that we might shut down, I get a call around 4:30 a.m. from the calm-voiced Jon, director of facilities.

He’s always apologetic about having to wake me, and remarkably cheerful given the cold darkness outside and the fact that he’s been up far longer than I.

Between the two of us, we work through the list of factors to consider. How is the plowing going for city streets and for campus parking lots, and what are the campus conditions? What are the other colleges and universities doing? Major school districts in our area? Are city officials asking people to stay off the streets and drive only if absolutely necessary, and what’s the forecast?

It’s a pretty human process, with no cut and dried way to decide, but we eventually come up with something, always erring on the side of safety. We confer with the equally calm-voiced HR director Diane to make sure we're wording things right per university policies.

If we actually close, that means no one goes to work. No one.

No one to plow the sidewalks and parking lots. No one to keep the computers and phone lines working. No one to see that the HVAC keeps the buildings from freezing.

So we don’t CLOSE close. If we decide we should minimize travel to campus, we suspend operations, a decision the chancellor makes after considering our recommendation.

When we suspend operations, we don't hold classes and only “essential” personnel report to campus. When we used that term in our campus communications in the heavy snows earlier this year, people had to ask whether they were essential.

Kind of humbling to find out you aren’t, but you don’t actually want to be essential—not on a snow day. If you’re non-essential you don’t have to venture out into the conditions that officials are defining as too dangerous for travel.

If you’re me, on the other hand, in my essential role….

Actually, I don’t have to venture forth. I count on those essential IT folks to keep the systems working that allow me to put the word out.

Recorded phone message, web site alert page updated and then linked in color-coded text from the home page, emails to campus listservs because quite a few staff check their work email from home, a notice on the portal system that people use to access official records and information, emails to media followed by phone calls, and now Twitter and a note posted on the wall of our Facebook page and sent out to our fans.

(By the way, it’s the same whether or not we suspend operations. If we’re open for business as usual, people need to know that too. )

After I push our announcement out as many ways as possible, I monitor the TV broadcasts and check media web sites to see if they’re using what we sent, and post a comment if I can find someplace to do it that will be visible and informative.

(Sidebar question: Why isn't there one specific place for official representatives to log in and post our info, alphabetically by agency? The school districts have that.)

Because I have the laptop open and I’m connected to my work desktop, I end up dealing with old stuff from my in-box for longer than I realize in my too-early-morning daze.

Eventually I realize I’ve been up for over 3 hours. I’m doing things that are neither urgent nor important, I have a headache because I haven’t had coffee but I shouldn’t at this point, and there’s nothing more to do in this “emergency.”

After that, I go back to bed for a while before I get up, pop open the laptop again, and settle in for a quiet day of work and watching the weather in case we have to do it all over again the next day.
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