The STUFF Sisters

Unemployable

I have reached an age where I know for a fact that technology is outpacing me. As my husband and sister read this, they are cackling because I am the least tech-savvy and tech-interested person in their families.

I have mentioned to friends and strangers that one of the deep-seated reasons I support the Women’s Employment Network is because I am convinced that I am going to have to utilize their amazing services if this dream business I share with my sister ever fails. The main reasons: I really don’t know how to make a PowerPoint display, and I can get easily tripped up on implementing calculations in Excel. Clearly, I will need to be trained for today’s workforce.

Unemployable in today’s society. That’s me.

Thank the goddess I am an entrepreneur.

September starts our busiest four months of the year at STUFF. Right now, I am buried up to my eyeballs in paper, cardboard, pricing labels and spreadsheets. Casey, my partner in crime, is buried in artist product, display ideas, and training of current employees and possible new hires. It is a killer month that we love…and live through.

Last month in New York, on our morning walk to work, I saw two men sorting – by color! – empty glass bottles. The street on which they had set up shop was closed due to the construction of a new subway stop. They had found a tree for shade and were color-sorting glass and stacking it. The sound of their endeavors caught me first and found me fumbling for my camera. Not only were they helping to save the planet, they were working quickly and efficiently in a makeshift work environment. What the end result of their work was, I do not know and did not ask.

My mind raced to these images yesterday when I had set up a work station for myself on three cardboard boxes right outside my office door and was holding the papers from blowing in the fan with a tack into the cardboard. An hour later, I thought of those men as my sister climbed the stairs with her hand drill, cell phone, stuffed file folder, and cup of iced coffee. She, too, was setting up shop and getting to work where she needed to be, which was not at her desk.

She amazed me because she had brought her phone to work. Mine? Well, mine was way over there next to the keyboard of my computer, being charged. Someone had forgotten to charge it over night. Understandable. She must have been really busy.

p.s. These men had me mesmerized. Look at how tidy their work space is. The boxes are lined up perfectly and practically squared to the curb. Right there on 35th Street just west of 9th Avenue.

Resolutions

New Year’s resolutions have never held an allure for me. I don’t make them. Never have. I can’t imagine that, after several months of revelry and celebration …

New Year’s resolutions have never held an allure for me. I don’t make them. Never have. I can’t imagine that, after several months of revelry and celebration, you will change all your behaviors in the turn of a calendar page; that just seems far fetched. Un-doable. Heck, it’s ripe for failure, and who needs that?

For the past 10 years, the month of August has found me battling desires to change due to travel. My family has our vacation in early August, and somewhere during those two weeks of slower pace and solace I find myself thinking about how I will change my ways when I get home. The ideas range from speed-of-life to intake-of-food to time-spent-relaxing during the rest of the year.

This year I actually pondered the fact that I do not own casual clothes. I have the clothes I work in and the clothes I exercise in, but I do not own sweatpants or whatever it is that people lounge in at home after a long day…clothes you could actually answer the door in (and they wouldn’t be your PJs). I also reached deep into the bottom of my psyche and discovered that basically I am either moving or at a full stop. As in: I work and play in one set of clothes, and, when it is time to read and sleep, I am in pajamas – fully showered and ready to sleep. There is no in between for me. I spent days thinking about this in the quiet of my chair on the beach and on the patio. It was easy to do in a swimsuit or a sarong. Nothing to bind me too tightly.

Usually soon after returning from Florida, I travel to New York every August with my sister for business. I love New York. Deeply. It does not scare me with its noise, scale or vibrancy. It does not make me feel un-cool for not living there. It does not make me feel lessened. However, it does make me want to go home and live a fuller life. It makes me want to walk to work and shop for groceries in smaller batches. It makes me yearn for public transportation and bakeries.

And then the month is over. So far, I have not hunted down new clothes for relaxing. Vacation is well over, and the bra is back on. I have not walked to work one time. We are shopping for groceries in smaller batches, but probably because grocery shopping has somehow become one of my least favorite things. I have not ridden the bus to work, because it doesn’t seem to want to take the route to drop my son at school, swing by Office Depot, and possibly run by the coffee shop to replace the iced tea I left sitting on the counter at home in my rush and bustle. The beautiful part of all of this is that my rich, full life is still just that. And, not having attempted actual and broadly stated resolutions, I have not failed at them.

That leaves bakeries.

p.s. Plant photos were captured in August in New York, Kentucky, Tennessee and Florida. I imagine that their resolutions were to bloom and grow. Right where they are.

shufords 2 — One of my favorite photos from vacation. The vine is clearly looking to block the drive thru…making us all slow down.

Business or Pleasure?

Last week, my sister and I traveled to New York City for a business trip.

Last week, my sister and I traveled to New York City for a business trip. Business travel is different from pleasure travel. Pleasure travel has a certain speed to it, usually relaxed. However, when we travel to New York, it is hard to tell the difference because we love the city so much. We keep a rapid and packed schedule, but we find time to enjoy the tiny, minute and forgotten pieces of the Big Apple while taking in all the big, loud and spectacular.

When I got home, I was sent a survey from a hotel chain that my husband and I use and for which we collect points. One of the questions was something along the lines of, “How often do you stay overnight for business and how much for pleasure?”

Another great building facade in the middle of a block.

I was stymied only in that I count New York as both – in the same trip! – and there was no check box for that.

My favorite neon on the trip, as seen in the mirror.

Enjoy these photos. Of course we had fun, but we’ve been mixing business with pleasure for so long it’s a blurry mess in our heads.

Our "desk" in the hotel lobby. — Our “desk” in the hotel lobby.

Have a great week.

Addiction and Plastic

There are many things I have slowly given up over time. Diet Coke. Peanut M&Ms. High fructose corn syrup. Some have been easy to let go of, and others, well, others can haunt me and rear their ugly little addicting heads. It is still hard not to want an icy Diet Coke at the movie theater, and I will be honest: I haven’t completely kicked the M&Ms. A bowl of the colorful happiness at a party will find my hand. However, I no longer purchase these items for personal consumption.

I digress. This story was to be about my current fascination with Iced Black Tea from Starbucks and my reuse of their trenta-sized cup. I believe reuse is the best of “The Three R’s” – reduce, reuse and recycle. If you are already reducing your usage, then reusing what you do have before recycling it is the pinnacle, for me anyway.

My husband and I have been recycling in our home for over 20 years. When we bought our first “home”, our loft downtown, one of the first things we designed into the kitchen was our recycling center. I have written previous blogs about our recycling commitment at home, my business has a full page on our website dedicated to our Green Policies, and – again last week – my husband and I drove our recycling through seven states to be able to get it into the correct bin. I like to think our fervor makes us committed to the cause, not crazy. Fine line, I suppose.

My new love – addiction, if you must – of iced black tea is probably the caffeine. I have never been a coffee drinker, but I did consume gallons of Diet Coke for years and years. It propelled me through my career in politics and pushed me right into entrepreneurship with my sister.

A year ago, I felt like I needed a little something to jump start my day again, with Diet Coke now 10 years behind me. At first I thought it was mental – this is my response to most things bordering on addiction – and that I needed to ignore it and move along. And I did just that for years. I have always had a lifelong love of iced water – and continue to drink major amounts of it daily – but it just seemed like my taste buds and my energy system wanted more.

But how do I balance my desire to save Mother Earth by consuming less while ordering iced teas in plastic cups? Even the little #6 in the cutie triangle telling me the cup was recyclable didn’t make my use of it justified. I need to use less plastic everyday. Every. Single. Day.

Then I found out I could re-use my cup at Starbucks – and they will give you money off for doing so! – and that changed everything. I am currently reusing a cup I got four weeks ago. My promise to Starbucks and my local barista is that I will not let the cup get junky looking or stained. I rinse it constantly and wash it occasionally, and I am still reusing the original lid and straw. (I even put my own iced tea from home in it when time is of the essence.)

I have managed to find a way to manage my current addiction with my desire to be one of the people to slowly change the world.

It took me a while. But I got there.

p.s. When ordering iced black tea in the South – let’s say on vacation driving through Florida, Georgia and Tennessee – be prepared to answer the question, “Do you want it sweetened?” more than once. They really, really love their sweet tea and looked at me like the Yankee I am when my answer was repeatedly, “No thank you.”

p.s.s. You can only reuse your cup if you go to a counter at Starbucks. My advice: don’t attempt this move when they are super-swamped. I am not a “rush hour” tea drinker, so this has worked out for me really, really well.

Just Google It

This vacation found my husband and me on a two-day car trip to get to our destination and a subsequent two days to get back. My husband’s phone makes it so easy to “google” the best. This time, the search results were delicious.

This vacation found my husband and me on a two-day car trip to get to our destination and a subsequent two days to get back. I like car trips. I learned a long time ago that trips are about the journey AND the destination.

Inside Champy's in Chattanooga, TN. — Inside Champy’s in Chattanooga, TN.

I have never been good about pre-planning meals on the road. Since becoming a parent, the best I have ever done is pack picnics to either eat in the car at 80 miles per hour or consume at state rest stops, which are still my preferred places to relieve myself and stretch my legs en route. (Gas stations gross me out, and fast food joints are no longer places we frequent.)

Shuford's in Chattanooga, TN. — Shuford’s in Chattanooga, TN.

This trip, we planned where we would be sleeping in advance, but food didn’t make it onto the itinerary. Being terribly busy before we left is my only excuse. However, my husband’s Internet access through his phone makes it so easy to “google” phrases like the following:

“best fried chicken chattanooga” and “best BBQ chattanooga”

The vine can't read! — The vine can’t read!

I then continue to fly down the interstates and he reads the results. Our only other requirement is that the joints we pick are locally owned, but that can be discerned when you click on their websites, which we highly recommend. This time, the search results were delicious. On the way down to Florida, we at the “best fried chicken” in Chattanooga at Champy’s and, two weeks later, on our 27th wedding anniversary, we ate the “best BBQ” in Chattanooga at Shuford’s on our way home.

The self-serve tea at Shuford's. Yep. I like mine "un". Sweetened, that is. — The self-serve tea at Shuford’s. Yep. I like mine “un”. Sweetened, that is.

I am sharing a few pictures here, but the shots of our actual BBQ does not do the food justice. I am a die-hard BBQ fan – raised religiously by devout BBQ parents – and swear by Kansas City style BBQ and our sauces. However, the pork sandwich I had at Shuford’s was the best pork I have ever eaten. Smoked to perfection – no nasty liquid smoke – and lightly sauced. It was served “southern” style with the cole slaw on the softest bun imaginable. That is a combo I like, and the ratio was perfect. (My husband is such a pig he had to follow up his pulled pork sandwich with a beef brisket number, and he sang its praises as well. Brisket is hard to do well.)

My sandwich at Shuford's — My sandwich at Shuford’s

My husband's. — My husband’s sandwich #1.

I did not take food shots of our fried chicken at Champy’s. I’m not a huge fan of taking pictures of my food, and was so blown away by the authenticity of our surroundings and the local flavor of the joint that I didn’t stop to point the camera at our plates. However, the really fun aspect of Champy’s is that they serve 40-ounce ice cold beers in bottles and, if you are a regular, you pull down your jumbo coozie cover from the clotheslines full of them throughout the restaurant. Most of them had been customized for the customer – by the customer! – and yours is waiting there when you return. Charming. (I was delighted by my petite 12 oz. Miller Lite sans coozie.)

My mother raised us to “get off the interstate” whenever we can because that’s where the magic lies. We were hell-bent for the beach, so the interstate was our speedy route this time. My advice? Choose great locally-owned food joints off the interstate and let your data package be your guide.

p.s. Click on the links to learn more about these great American restaurants. They both had friendly staff, and neither place will let you down. I promise.

Pretty much my favorite sign at Shuford's. — Pretty much my favorite sign at Shuford’s.

The Mother Lode

Our son returns Monday from a three week trip to China. Since he was small, I have jumped upon his times away from home as perfect chances for me to tidy up his things. A few days ago, I hit the motherlode.

Our son returns today from a three week trip to China. He loves to travel, and this trip, with his aunts, cousins and uncles, has been no different. We have Skyped with him three times, but only two really count due to a rural location for him and a bad Internet during one session. (It was like talking to Neil Armstrong on the moon!) He has sent a few emails from his aunt’s computer, but mostly it has been radio silence from him.

His smiles on the phone screen have been radiant as he shares stories and jokes. Pixelated conversations are hard, and when he tried to show us photographs on his camera through the computer call, it was all blurry.

Time is flying by for this kid, our only child. His last two years of high school start in a month, he got his first “real” job this summer, he now plans his own volunteering, he is learning to drive, and three weeks of travel away from us had him smiling on Skype two days ago.

Since he was small, I have jumped upon his times away from home as perfect chances for me to tidy up his things. He does a pretty good job of keeping his things in order, but the crevices, containers and dump bins need the occasional scrubbing.

A few days ago, I hit the mother lode. In the “Potential To Make The Mom Cry” category, this find was in the Top Five. Squirreled way in the bottom of a drawer were his business cards. The business cards he made for himself when he must have been five years old.

I remember the day he came home from visiting my mother and had the paint samples in his tiny hands. They had been to Home Depot, and he had scored a few freebies in the paint department. I remember remarking about them and asking what he was going to do with them – and why there were so many. I probably sprinkled in a little bit of “waste” and “these things cost money,” and then we moved on. I never saw them again after that discussion.

In my mind’s eye, I can see him in his little denim overalls and bright T-shirt reaching for the ones he liked best. Taking a moment to choose correctly. Possibly being limited by what he could reach. Maybe asking for help. He is still a child that loves all colors, and I can imagine this whole process was magical.

I took pictures of each of the cards today, and, when I loaded them onto the computer, I stopped to look at them all. To mourn the passing of his little script forced from pudgy hands. To grieve the little bit of tongue he stuck out past his lips while accomplishing difficult tasks. What struck me deeply was how, on each card, he played with the graphic design. I noticed how each card is different while the copy is almost the same. Initials vs. full name? Three initials or four? The battle was most likely epic with his tongue taking most of the punishment.

To this mom, the discovery in my own home was perfect. Just what I needed to remind me that, since he was born, he has been moving away from us. He has been moving towards new adventures. New places. New people.

And on this day, with this collection of evidence, I realized he was moving toward a career even at five years old. He even took the time to make business cards.

p.s. A few years ago I cleaned a closet in his room while he was away. Click here to see what happened.

Healthy Summer Cold Treats

I don’t know about you, but getting enough liquid in my child during the hot, hot, hot summer days can be a challenge. I have tried many tricks, but

I don’t know about you, but getting enough liquid in my child during the hot, hot, hot summer days can be a challenge. I have tried many tricks, but this one works the best. I make homemade jumbo popsicles with a variety of juices and other drinks.

At home we have a nifty popsicle maker thingy, but we are on vacation this week and I had to improvise.

What I discovered, is she likes the jumbo ones more than the little ones I make at home. I like it because she gets more hydration each time and my favorite part is that I used handy kitchen items everyone has on hand (no fancy gizzmos or special clean-up and storage).

Pursue good stuff this summer…

These photos were taken by me – Casey Simmons – “on location” on Anna Maria Island, Florida.

Sometime

Several years ago, we stayed home from Spring Break. Actually, our little family has seldom traveled at Spring Break in the 13+ years it has been an option. Time of year, maybe. Lack of funds, probably. It always sounds great, and I talk a lot about it after Christmas, but all the plans peter out as March arrives.

So that year, I spiced up our Kansas City staycation by looking at the list my son and I had been compiling on a notepad in the car of all the places about which I had said, over his lifetime spent in the back seat, “Yeah sweetie. That’s X. We’ll go there sometime,” or, “Oh. I’ve always loved that place. We’ll go there sometime,” and, “Wow. I used to take your Aunt Lindsay and Robin Parks there when they were little like you. I’ll take you there sometime.”

On that staycation we slept late, ate lunch at restaurants new and old, and visited places that we had never been with our son. Browne’s Deli, John Wornall Home, Kearney House Museum, Thomas Hart Benton Home Museum. We did it all. The list was depleted. My husband and I were able to work in fits and starts during that week, and, when the break was over, we all felt like we’d really been somewhere and seen lots of new things. Because we had.

Currently, our son is traveling in China with my husband’s family and we (my husband and me) are in our home alone – with the dog, of course – for three weeks. We both have loads of work to accomplish but have much more flexibility to get it all done without the pull towards wanting to be with our son. Given his busy teenage existence – work, volunteering and goofing off – our times as a threesome have little footing in his regimen this summer.

While he is gone we are having a “foodcation”. Our son has been gone for 6 days, and not one meal has been prepared in the home. I am not a breakfast eater, and lunch is easily acquired from the huge bowl of organic fruit in the kitchen and hurriedly stashed in my bag as I wing out the door for work.

But dinner is another matter. My husband and I had a list much like the “Sometime” list my son and I kept in the car. This list has been growing on my husband’s cell phone/electronic notepad and includes places new and old. We don’t really dine out all that much, and this has been a real treat. So far, mostly dinner. A few lunches.

One of our lunch adventure was to Werner’s in Mission. We sat outside and had a great conversation with one outstanding staff member who was working the grill. She spoke of the butcher and the sausage maker. She mentioned her work and how she hand ties sausages and does additional duty cooking them outside over the grill. She explained to me what the different sausages were on the grill and, in particular, why one was so darned pale. (That was the German bratwurst. It isn’t made from cured or smoked meat.) Inside, one woman behind the counter made our sandwiches from scratch on soft bread and another woman checked us out on an oldish cash register.

Tonight we are off to another restaurant with good friends. A place we haven’t been. An adventure.

Sometime is now.

Note: All photos above are from our time at Werner’s.

Natural State

Yesterday I re-entered my natural state. I woke up, left my pajamas on the hook, and took off into a world I love. The one where my swimsuit is the main mode of clothing.

Several weeks ago, my best friend texted and briefly stated that she had just encountered the smell of Coppertone and was transported back to our summers as pre-teens, teens, co-eds, working women, young mothers and working mothers. I have never known a summer without the brown bottle. And anything banana-flavored has never touched my skin. I don’t even like banana candy, although I like bananas.

My dermatologist and I look at my largest organ in depth every year. My addiction to the sun has lessened as my age has increased. However, my yearning to live full days in Lycra and spandex fully coated in Coppertone has not abated. Good thing we’re supposed to wear sunscreen in the shade.

I live my dream every summer vacation by waking much as I did yesterday: shedding my PJs for my swimsuit and then spending the day moving through activities lightly clothed. A worn-in Oxford cloth dress shirt with the arms rolled way up is my ultimate cover-up. In our little corner of Florida, this passes as more than acceptable for restaurant dining. I shower long after the sun has gone down and move swiftly back into my cotton sleepwear. Never a bra or panties in sight. Never a long sleeve, hem or button to fence me in. Although, I do admit to window shopping on my favorite 7 best websites to buy sheer and see through lingerie but only at night when I couldn’t sleep, in bed, waiting for sleep.

She took me to the pool yesterday, my best friend, for the first time this year. This may well be a record. So late in “the season” for my inaugural walk into cool water. I am grateful and happy for her invitation, and the lingering aroma of our amazing friendship was with us the whole time. In my pool bag. Just waiting for me to un-cap it and let the memories overwhelm me.

Every boat dock, sun deck, beach chair, over-sized towel and speedboat returned to me. Every sun hat, pair of sunglasses, T-shirt, flip-flop and tote roared at me. My newborn son seeing pool water three months after his birth. My Dad skiing behind our boat. My Mom judging our dives from the edge of our pool. My sister holding her breath and my hands while we attempted “butt bumpers” for the one millionth time.

All this in one little bottle.

p.s. I mean no disrespect to anyone who wears Banana Boat lotions or eats those delightful banana flavored Laffy Taffy.

coppertone girl — This is the little girl I grew up with.

Sweet Liberty

Our family has always been partial to holidays. Birthdays, too. We celebrate, but not over-the-top crazy celebrations. Simple seems to rule the days. Have a Happy 4th.

Our family has always been partial to holidays. Birthdays, too. We celebrate, but not over-the-top crazy celebrations. Simple seems to rule the days.

July 4th is a good case in point. When we were growing up, the 4th was a day to swim and barbeque. When our parents owned a boat, we swam in a lake. When we had a pool in the back yard, we cooled off in chlorine. The meals themselves were from our grill but are forgettable in their simplicity. But the dessert was always something that included whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries. In a pattern – possibly a flag – or jumbled together in a trifle. Cake was part of it. Or home made ice cream. Red, white and blue.

This photo of our mother shows her on a 4th of July probably 20+ years ago. Our parents had separated, and she decided to take us all down to the deck on the back of her office near 25th and Holmes so we could watch the fireworks that would burst over Union Station. It was a wonderful night, and we all remember it. Not only was she dressed for the occasion with suitable head attire, she was dressed in white with red toenails and blue sandals. Red, white and blue. But the dessert that night, served after take out from Gates Bar-B-Q, was a three layer cake. When you sliced it, it revealed the flag. Not to scale, but to perfection.

Throughout the years she has been known to quote the Constitution while holding a jumbo sparkler in the darkening gloam of night. She has decorated our childhood homes with all forms of US flags. “Don’t Tread on Me” was always a favorite, and a reproduction of an early flag by Betsy Ross was good for feminist conversation.

Mothers give us much. This one, however, gave us never-ending lessons in freedom and justice. She didn’t so much wrap it in the flag as hand it to us gently and tell us to be careful.

Have a Happy 4th, and enjoy your red, white and blue.