Mom in Milwaukee

Thank God Mom came out to Milwaukee. It was the first visit I've had in over a year where I wasn't on massive amounts of pain pills pre and post back surgery. Needless-to-say, hanging out with Mom is a lot more fun when you are lucid.

We had a mission: find an age appropriate professional wardrobe. Remember I'm now in a job where the professed dress code policy is "business casual," but everyone wears suits or at least blazers on Fridays. The last time I really had to play dress-up for a job was years ago. I mean, perhaps a decade ago. When I first became a therapist, I was fortunate to have my parents support to purchase a suit. At age 22 I needed that adult costume while people sat on my couch and poured their hearts out to me all the while I'm thinking, "Man, this person needs a therapist...oh my God, I AM the therapist!!!." The costume gave me a bit of confidence to really believe in myself.

When I got into medical social work, I realized the emergency department was NOT the place for suits. Somehow "dry clean only" doesn't really work with body fluids from sick kids. All of a sudden my J Crew chinos were considered upscale. There were several shifts when I went to work in one outfit and came home in scrubs after an unfortunate patient encounter. I was also a bit of a rebel by wearing open toe shoes and skirts. In hind sight, while I may have looked fabulous running to medical codes, it was pretty stupid to be in a trauma room with my little piggies vulnerable. Thank God I never got a needle puncture or something like that falling from the suture tray.

As I ventured into administration I kept my wardrobe of chinos and flouncy skirts. Now I just looked hip. Anthropologie was my go-to for fun dress up clothes that were age appropriate. Besides, everyone at the hospital knew me. It wasn't like I had to prove myself or fit into an unknown culture. I could pull off Anthropologie in my late 20's. There are still some pieces I can pull off in my 30's, but it certainly doesn't fit my current professional culture.

So like I said, Mom's visit had a purpose and a true mission. She is the one who I trust going into the dressing room with me and being 100% honest. I think the hardest part of looking for professional clothes is to not look old ladyish or too dowdy. I can't believe it, but we started at Talbots. This was the store just mere years ago I would pass mumbling something about conservative ladies with white hair and ugly scarves as "accessories." The sales lady, who may have just passed legal drinking age was about as dumb and as engaging as a floor mop. "I brung you more pants to try." Brung? Yeah, perhaps she would have been better off at Forever 21 not Talbots. It seriously took my Mom to go outside the dressing room to break up the conversation about church service and inform them we were here to spend money for a new wardrobe. They sent a more senior sales person in to assist.

As we were putting things on hold, another shopper stopped me and asked if I was starting a new job. I told her I had and needed to fit into the culture. Turns out she also worked in hospital administration. She left us with some great parting words of advice, "Always dress better than is expected." She also inquired if I had a teenager because they could be handy in helping select things that were age appropriate. I had to stop for a moment. Oh my God, I guess I AM old enough to have a teenager and yet I don't even have a baby yet! Good Lord that was a shocker.

After guzzling some cider at Alterra we ventured into Ann Taylor. Holy Batman, the 80's are back! Slouchy ankle boots? Skinny belts cinching over sized cardigan sweaters? I have a mantra: if you've already lived through the trend, you are too old to repeat it. There were a couple of tops that literally looked cross between what Laura Ingalls wore on Little House on the Prairie and a blouse I wore in the 2nd grade for class photos. While I found some good staples like blazers on sale I passed on the neon jelly bracelets. Just kidding. There weren't any jelly bracelets, but maybe they will debut with the holiday dresses! Just the fashion accessory you need for your office Christmas party!!

After 3.5 hours of power shopping we were starving so lunch at some ubiquitous American restaurant chain seemed quite reasonable. We went back for some of the clothes at Talbots. I have to tell you, spending money is exhausting. It's emotionally draining. I was pretty catatonic by the time we got home.

Having Mom around for a week was a lot of fun. We got to play tourist in our own town by going to a Fish Fry, seeing a play downtown, moseying around the old German section of town, and going on a distillery tour. There were several things we couldn't fit in, but there is always next time.

And yes, for the record, I actually bought a scarf but completely drew the line at broaches. Hey, I still have my standards.

Explicating Illusions

I have to keep reminding myself that I'm only on my third week of exploring this new role. Most of the time it feels as though I've been in the system for at least three months. The learning curve is large, but not in the way I thought it would be. Thank God I have my org development skills to really observe and diagnose what is going on in the institution.

Organizational culture is a funny thing. It is defined by the behaviors and customs that are normal for that group. It also may not exactly match what is written down in policy and procedures. I have become a sponge and cryptographer. Things are not always what they appear to be. For example, although the dress policy states that it is "business casual" most of the successful leaders wear suits or at least a blazer on "casual Friday." Although chinos may be acceptable, they are the bare minimum for professional standards. I had one person complain to me that someone had the audacity to wear corduroy pants.

Another example of cultural norms is that everyone leaves their doors open. Shutting an office door is a huge no-no. It sends the message that you are unavailable and not a team player. So privacy is compromised and what should be confidential conversations are usually held in public, but in a whisper. That alone doesn't exactly build trust. In fact, in my opinion it pretty much destroys it. Seeing that this is the norm, it is also not a surprise to know that direct feedback is rare. A team mate could be flailing in his or her performance, but no one wants to be rude and tell them why. Instead I get the feeling that it is perceived to be the kinder and gentler approach to just let them drown and fail in silence. I find this to be a bit appalling. So as I have taken the helm, I rather violated my own code of "observation only for three months." I actually gave feedback to both the person who was drowning in oblivion and the hierarchy about my conversation. I'd like to think that by taking that risk I showed I was a pretty trustworthy person. Well, either that or I just shot myself in the foot politically.

The term, "silos," was first introduced to me when I worked at another hospital years ago. It was a buzz word in most management book best sellers at the time. It's a catchy term for really saying, "you guys aren't playing nicely in the sandbox together, " or, "you have no idea who is in the sandbox with you." Comparing what I knew then to what I know now, there never was a silo problem in that particular hospital. All of the departments worked well together, but it gave a burning platform for change and the new leader to look very important. I can honestly say I now know what a silo problem actually looks like: team members who have no idea why they are in the same department and do not know how to access each other's talents. I'm working on that.

Then there is the generational gap fun. Gen X'ers (1960 - 1977ish) are now a large part of the workforce who are still reporting or colleagues with the Baby Boomers (1945-1959). Baby Boomers are all about company loyalty, getting that gold watch at retirement, and putting in long hours. Gen X'ers are more about home/work balance. Their attitude is, "why should you care if I'm here from 9-5 or 7-3 as long as my work is getting done and my objectives are getting met?" Baby Boomers see putting in more than the expected hours as a badge of honor. They truly expect a warm body to be available consistently during prescribed work hours regardless of the output. It's a bit of a nightmare to manage and negotiate expectations when the culture appears to be all open-door, but is really managed in whispers.

There is a long way to go with this organization, but I'm energized by the challenges. Let's hope they are willing to take a breath of fresh air.

So Far...

Here's what I know after my first day of work:

1) I share my office with the person who used to hold my position and I now supervise. Uncomfortable? No! What would give you that idea?

2) Virtual New Employee Orientation is a lot quicker than going in person. You can just fast forward through the slides demonstrating what sexual harassment is and why it's bad. I used to teach this class so I think I've got the scoop.

3) My boss is awesome.

4) I'm exhausted.

5) My office needs some serious decorating.

6) This whole carpool thing with J is barely squeaking by. I waited an hour for him to finish that whole pesky thing we call "patient care."

7) High heels are overrated.

8) Did I mention I'm exhausted? With blisters from those stupid high heels.

9) Badge photos always look terrible.

10) Even though I'm not clinical, I still got a pager within 10 minutes of me walking through the door. And here I thought I was free from that PTSD beeper sounds.

Rebirth

Three years ago this month I started a new job in a new city with an old sinking feeling.

I knew the job wasn't a good fit for me and yet I was enamored by the flattery of pursuit and nice salary. I tried to convince myself that it would be a "learning opportunity" even before I set foot into the building. I would expand my skill set. I could influence change. These are the lies I told myself as I sat in the 1970's wood paneled executive boardroom complete with office furniture that were hand-me-downs from the public school system. Every morning I would attempt to psych myself up for another day of cheer leading the disenfranchised staff, policing those who were skimming by, and deciphering the mixed messages from a messed up dual reporting system of divas who fed off of drama.

Looking back, there were two bright spots to my role: the CEO (whom I never really got to interact with but highly respected) and the office staff (who were jovial and made me feel welcomed). It was the longest 7 months of my life. When I accidentally quit during a meeting with the divas by blurting out, "I can't do this anymore," it felt as though the weight of the world lifted off of my chest. This unhappy journey was never going to have a happy ending. Intuitively I knew it from day one and yet I never fully listened.

I did gain something from this chapter of my life. It proved to be an amazing learning opportunity, but in a way I didn't expect. It confirmed I belonged in healthcare. That is where my heart resides. I confirmed my identity that I was an unconventional social worker. I confirmed my skill set as a leader of systems change. These were all things I already knew in my soul, but sometimes a little reassurance isn't so bad. I also learned the valuable lesson of happiness - don't settle for anything less.

I've been wrestling the demons of my past and old scripts that were shaped by this one work nightmare. The intensity of self-examination has increased this past week as I gear up to start another new position. However, I do have something now I didn't have before: clarity.

Once I quit, I renewed. I renewed a vision for myself based on my preferences, my style, and my ideals. I knew I wanted to be an organizational development consultant in healthcare. There is something about walking into a hospital for me that energizes me. I love the culture. I love the challenges. I love the humanity. I also love solving systems problems, working with teams, coaching leaders, navigating complex political systems, and focusing on the patient.

Last year I was one of two finalists for what appeared to be my dream job. It was at a prestigious healthcare institution under the OD department. However, my job would have been focused mostly on training. I didn't mind training. I was good at curriculum development, but what I dread is the monotony and boredom of doing the same thing over and over again. This is what this job would have been. It consisted of overhauling new employee orientation and implementing it...then repeat over and over again. I convinced myself it was a step in the right direction. It was a foot in the door. I could prove myself and then show them what my true skill set was. Again, I was telling the same lies to myself to see what I wanted to see and not what truly existed. I knew I wouldn't be happy there with the role they were filling. They wanted a trainer, not an organizational consultant. I didn't get the job and was very angry for a long time. I displaced my anger, my disappointment, and my perception of failure. It was yet another opportunity for me to really look at what the Universe was telling me.

I began to refine my professional vision and looked for opportunities to advance my dream. Call it synchronicity, karma, or just plain luck, but I found a graduate school program that seemed to speak to my soul. Within days of the deadline for application for admission, I sent off my information and was accepted.

I remember first meeting my classmates and professors. When asked what I wanted to do with this degree I was confident in my response: I knew I wanted to be a healthcare organizational development consultant. There was no one like me in the small class of 12. Some were already Senior VP's of international businesses. Others worked in foreign fields of bioengineering or retail. Every textbook was like drinking from a well after eating sand. Every project I did for my second masters was focused on my dream. My intention was set and I thank God my professors and team mates accepted my unconventional approach.

After graduating, my husband and I moved to a city where we knew no one. There were no ties, leads, or networks for support. I was intimidated by this at first given that somewhere around 80% of all jobs are landed through networking, not blind resume submissions. Weeks into settling into our new city, we were invited to a Sunday brunch for J's department. There I had a connecting conversation with one of J's colleagues. Like me, he was unconventional in his chosen profession and shared a passion for change. As the dialogue progressed we both became quite animated. The conversation ended with a request for my CV. I emailed it off without a second thought. As the weeks progressed, I actually embraced the idea of being the domestic spouse for the first time in my life. It was literally one day after J and I had this conversation about our new relationship roles did my phone start ringing off the hook. Ironic that once I let go of my intensity, my intention manifested.

I believe that once you set your intention, the Universe will conspire to make it happen. Tomorrow is the manifestation of this case-in-point. Tomorrow I step back into the world of a 40+ hour work week. I have the leadership component, the healthcare component, the systems perspective component, and mentoring component. I am officially a healthcare organizational development program manager.

"Projects"

I'm finding that the more you look at a house, the more "projects" you begin to see. It's a little like falling down the rabbits hole, to be perfectly honest. Folks I can officially say with confidence that the honeymoon phase of home ownership is over.

During the past three weeks I've pretty much lived on Angie's List and the phone. Angie's List is a pretty big operation here in the Midwest and I've found it to be quite helpful. Of course I do my part and review the businesses I've used. I give a lot more credence to reports written in the past 6 months than those from 2 years ago. I will say it bugs me that I pay for the service. A pesky $9 gets automatically withdrawn every month. This being said it does work in my favor when I call a company and let them know I got their name off of the list.

The home problems began one morning when my husband neglected to tell me that the hot water handle on our tub fell off. I came home from an interview to find it sitting on the side of the tub. Here's the kicky part: it apparently has fallen off in the past because it was GLUE GUNNED back on. Yes, you can see the glue they used to get the handle back on the stem. You know a simple hex wrench would have worked to tighten it back on, but apparently - and this is hard to fathom - I am more adept in tools than the yahoos who owned the house when it happened.

So, apparently we needed a plumber. I began the search. One guy who came highly recommended passed the job off to a buddy of his who is a handy man. The handy man came within the hour but admitted that plumbing wasn't his strong suit. At least he acknowledged that before attempting anything. He said we just needed a replacement part and he could take care of it for about a buck seventy-five. Sounds good, right? Well, knowing my husband and his fondness for being thorough, I called another plumbing operation who sent out a master plumber for an estimate. He said the whole kit and caboodle needed to be replaced which would run me about $200-$300 just for the parts and an additional $850 for the labor. I'm no mathematician, but there is a LARGE difference between this guy and the handyman.

We mentioned this to some neighbors of ours who are both architects and hobbies include things like Habitat for Humanity. Right now they are in the process of building a garage. I mean, pouring the concrete themselves, framing, installing windows, electricity, roofing and siding the sucker. Ed, out of the kindness of his own heart, said he would come take a look.

In the meantime I also wanted to get the opinion of our gutters. It's rather generous for me to actually call them "gutters" because really they are more like waterfalls over the edge. Here I'm thinking we just need to adjust the slope and clean them out. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Two companies come by and give comparable bids both showing me how these are the original gutters made of steel, well beyond their lifespan, and the best thing we could do is replace the whole system in aluminum. And we're on a time deadline as winter is coming. The old owners disclosed there was some ice damming, but we didn't realize the extent of the problem. The good news is the roof is great, but we may have some apron issues (whatever that means) in a particular section. Now I have tried to sit down with J to go through the bids but he'd much rather do practically anything else than discuss expenses for home improvement issues. So this project is on hold for now.

In addition to the landscaping project mentioned in my previous post, we have an arborist coming to look at the giant silver maple. Who knows when he/she will show up. And, just to be completely thorough, we had the insulation guys come this morning for a bid. See, the ice damming is caused by heat getting trapped in this particular section of the roof and then compounded by the gutter issue.

Tom, the insulation guy, came and gave me a true education about insulation. Hell, I had no idea what a R19 vs a R38 rating was. I can honestly say I do now. I also learned that spiders will build their webs where drafts are because that's where the bugs are. Interesting, eh? Who knew? While getting up in the attic, we needed to pull down the medicine chest in the upstairs bathroom. (Don't ask, it's just an odd old house.) Getting it back on was another matter.

Have I mentioned my husband's love affair with molly bolts? All I can say is thank God he has this odd infatuation because we're going to need it. The previous dumb-asses used dinky plastic anchors which pull right out of the drywall. I'm surprised that the medicine chest hasn't fallen yet. Let's just say it is happy in it's safe resting place on the floor right now.

I'm truly impressed with J's fearlessness when it comes to home improvements. We also had a lovely leaking cold water handle in the downstairs bathroom sink. This Saturday he consulted the Big Orange Home Depot Bible of Repairs and went to down dismantling things. It was a little surprising for me when I turned on the water and nothing came out. That's how I learned he had turned off the water main. We also learned that we have iron pipes. IRON. With severe atherosclerosis (aka, deposits making the hole very narrow for water to travel through). Not much we can do about that but eventually replace all of the pipes in the house - God help us. J was highly successful in fixing the sink.

However it does make me very very scared about the other house we own. Here we are thousands of miles away and the 1922 bungalow is just sitting there with renters. What home improvement projects lie in wait for us there?

Naked Ladies Kiss Me Over The Garden Gate

I feel like a student in Professor Snape's Potions class.

This morning I had a landscape artist come out to evaluate our new back yard. I'm normally quite handy with a trowel and trusty weeder, but in this back yard I'm pretty stuck. The first thing the landscaper said was, "Oh my dear, you don't have a back yard with a tree. You have a tree for your back yard." She's not kidding. Apparently this Silver Maple of ours is very very old. The bad news is they also have a relatively short life span compared to say an Elm. We also have a wild Mulberry tree which I thought was a kind of Oak. See? Mulberry tree, not Mulberry bush. Goes to show you what I know about this yard and how ill informed those nursery rhymes are.

The whole reason I had this person come out was to evaluate if they could till the soil for us to seed grass specific to shady areas. Not so much. Maples are also fastidious in their root structure by spreading out and only goes 2 - 3 feet deep. No tilling for us. Because the root structure is so close to the top it will leach all nutrients and water so this explains why our grass looks the way it does: clumps sparsely dispersed in clay dirt. Awesome. Her solution was to just put mulch down. This sounds like a terrible idea to me. A brown yard? Well, I guess that's what we have now so perhaps its not that bad of an alternative. The only prayer we have of doing grass is just putting top soil down - a lot of top soil - and seeding it with fescue, not rye. I learned more about grass root structure today than I thought I would ever learn. Rye is the main grass of all that sod people use. Fescue doesn't have a matrix root system. It's just one solitary blade per seed.

As I was getting more and more dejected about our options for the yard, the landscaper picked up on my mood and went to the truck to get her encyclopedias of botanical species. I was highly relieved to learn that my options were more than just hostas and ferns. Our conversation went something like this:

"So the horny toadalis is fantastic with it's feathery plumes, that is unless you want to get the limnanthus sacquaguia, otherwise known as Puffy Faces. As you can see it's broad leaf structure would be a nice contrast to the Mugwort with it's variegated leaf. I would steer clear of the hemlock, besides it's not indigenous to this area."

"What about this pretty purple flower?" I said pointing to the day lily looking bloom.

"Oh no, dear! Climaxius Epictus, or Man's Folly, will not grow in climate zone 5, which as you know we are right on the border of 4 and 5. But this lovely Witches Death would suit that corner nicely with fall blooms or the Snake Weed. I might consider planting the Japanese Blood Grass over there but it needs moist soil so perhaps the Viking Ship Heucharella. That one is a native plant. "

"What about hydrangeas? My husband loves the purple flowers."

The landscaper scrunches up her face to show her disgust. "If I see anymore of that Russian Sage and bourgeois yellow day lily I will just scream. Those hydrangeas were all the rage years ago. A burning bush might be a good alternative."

I'm guessing that is a solid "No" from her on the hydrangeas.

"But there's no accounting for taste, I suppose. Now these would be lovely by the rocks." She said pointing to a familiar plant on the page.

"Oh! You mean Lady in the Bathtubs!"

Double blink through her spectacles and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why would you call Bleeding Hearts, 'Lady in the Bathtubs?'"

"Because my grandmother grew them and if you pick off the blossom, turn it upside down and open it slightly it looks like a Victorian woman in a bathtub."

"Haven't tried that. And look at all these Rhododendrons in your yard! I'm surprised they've lasted this long with such an alkaline soil. Comes from the limestone. You must use quick lime once a year to keep them happy. My goodness, you can see these people had no idea about plants putting this peony in the shady corner. It is most certainly unhappy. And we must trim back these yews. Why on earth they would plant these here? I should also mention that we need to get a jump on this otherwise we'll have to wait until the last hard freeze of winter. That typically is May 15th."

Excuse me? May 15th? Did she really just say "hard frost" "typical" and "May 15th" in one sentence? Oh. My. God. How am I going to survive winter?

The conversation went on for 2 hours for a 20 x 20 space and I'm being generous with those measurements. Some of the names of these plants were absolutely ridiculous. Inky Fingers? Red Hot Poker? Scotch Broom? Love Lies Bleeding? Naked Ladies? Kiss Me Over The Garden Gate? Digitalis - otherwise known to me as the main ingredient for heart medication. Witch Hazel - which grows in the shade by the way. I vetoed the Hemlock for the record. Murphy, our second Scottie, ate some wild Hemlock and hallucinated. He landed in the doggy hospital overnight while his psychedelic trip wore off. One of my big requirements for the yard is nothing can be poisonous. I'm also against prickly plants.

In the middle of all this the movers show up to remove all of our boxes and packing material for a small fee, of course. They were exceptionally early. It took them about 10 minutes to remove the remnants of our two months of unpacking. As I drew up the check, the movers and landscape artist were in a battle about what to do with the mulberry tree.

"My wife makes jam with the mulberries."

"The berries also make a lovely wine, that is if you can get the berries before the birds. However, this one is a volunteer."

"Volunteer?" Man, am I glad the mover asked this question.

"Yes, it was a noxious weed that they let grow. However, it's not thriving and nor should it being in so much shade. Best to rid the yard of it before it becomes a larger problem."

"I'd rather have the wine than the jam, personally." Said the mover.

As for me and the rest of my morning, I've had 3 phone calls from the company for follow up and the landscaper came back for a second look at the Maple.

"They're notorious for dropping branches, these Silver Maples."

No kidding. I could have told you that looking at all of the limbs scattered across the yard from Sunday's storm. Rocket science.

"You need to call the tree people and point out the missing bark on the underside of that limb. Could be a bad sign that might call for the tree to come down which would be thousands upon thousands of dollars. Besides, it would alter my design plans then with more sun in the yard. Yes, yes, you need to call the tree people." And with that she handed me a sticky note with a name and phone number.

Inspired Completion

Last night my husband and I ventured away from our usual fanfare of animation movies and actually saw something with REAL people in it. We've been trying to see this particular movie for a couple of months now, but life gets in the way. Whether it's a good dining experience that takes 2 hours longer than anticipated or a family having to discuss treatment options for their loved ones, we just seem to miss all intended shows. Not yesterday. We actually made it to see "Julie and Julia."

I had particular interest in this movie as one of my dearest friends, "Martha," sent me the book a few years ago. I enjoyed the read while simultaneously thinking, "Good Lord this woman is mad trying to do 500+ FRENCH recipes in 365 days." But, she did it. On that level, it was quite inspirational for me. Like Julie Powell, I have a predisposition for starting things and not quite getting them completed. Take the quilt in my mother's basement for example. It's been resting there nicely for about 6ish years. Or my novel(s). Yes, potential plural on that, folks. I have somewhere around 3 novels on my computer. It was highly reassuring to hear from another dear friend that a lot of her set aside writing time was spent deleting what she already wrote. That is where I get in trouble with that project. Playing editor and author at the same time is highly unproductive. So at least Julie Powell succeeded in finishing something with a self-imposed deadline.

Don't get me wrong; I make deadlines, but typically these are deadlines that are externally imposed. I wouldn't have two advanced degrees without deadlines in place. But I play head games with myself (to my downfall) and see how I can rationalize skirting deadlines I make for myself. If you need any help in understanding how my brain works, just look for a post a few back about me with unstructured time.

I have to say I quite enjoyed the movie even if I left feeling quite hungry. All of a sudden I felt inspired to make boeuf bourguignon. I already know how to make it, but I've never done it the Julia Child way. Turns out I wasn't the only one inspired for French cuisine after seeing this movie. Mom told me that a few Sundays back they decided to embark on Julia's Duck with Cherry Sauce. Mind you the book in all of it's genius actually does teach you the art of French cooking in steps if you actually followed the steps in sequential order. However, Dad apparently decided to skip steps 1-4 where you first learn how to even roast a duck to making one with extravagant cherry reduction. He probably used the cherry pitter he inherited when his Mom died. I'm guessing here - we haven't talked in months so this is all extrapolated from my daily talks with Mom. She said it was amazing although they washed every pot and pan about 3x minimum during the 6 hours or whatever it took to make the dish.

J started thinking about making Coq au Vin this evening. Again, it's not complicated just time consuming. He also wanted to clean the house and plant somewhere close to 500+ bulbs in the backyard. I have a feeling we won't be dining on any pearl onions and succulent chicken this evening given the fact he's still in his pj's surfing the net. As for me, I'm going to go outside and find my trowel to lavish the last day of summer up here in the midwestern north. Getting those bulbs planted by sundown will be almost equivalent to making all those recipes within one year.