Razor-cutting layoffs. Breaking contracts. Combining offices. Consolidating businesses. Declining earnings. Foreclosing mortgages.
The headlines give me headaches.
My day job puts me in the epicenter of the swirl of the financial world. News spinning around the globe has the potential to put me into a downward spiral and true blue funk by dinnertime.
We’re all affected by these events in one way or another. Can’t escape them. No where to hide. The trickle-down effect has monumental implications. One person’s job loss means one neighborhood foreclosure and all of a sudden, your home, thousands of miles away, is devalued. Or the goods and services that you lovingly present to the world have become, on a dime, completely devalued. Practically worthless in our global economy. Your bottom line is now in sight as never before and you, too, question the validity of your livelihood, your prospects for career survival and your long-term outlook for your chosen profession. For just when we thought it was safe to go outside again, we see darkness lurking in every corner. Even attorneys, who reside in one of the very few professions that have always been thought to be recession-proof, are suddenly witnessing massive layoffs and office closings. (See today’s feature article in the Wall Street Journal).
But take heart. There’s always reinvention.
I love the whole concept of reinvention. In fact, I’m not quite sure it’s really fair to call it that. I view it more as “continually striving to become the person who God designed you to become.” Moving toward the Promise Land of flowing milk and honey. Eventually finding and doing that for which you were created. Spending years in jobs and homes and physical locations as training grounds for that which you were really made for. Being placed in circumstances with people who you might find wonderful or irritating as a way to build character. Performing repetitive acts day in and day out not as the fatal end of a life spend in torture, but as preparation for the glorious work you are supposed to be doing as you mature toward your ultimate destiny.
People accuse me of constantly reinventing myself. And I’m always simultaneously amused and flattered by it. Because they mean well. But I view reinvention as a way of continually working on myself. Always stretching. Enduring growing pains along the way which cause me enough discomfort to figure out how best to move forward. How to finally bask in the light of what I was put on earth to do.
One of the best ways to reinvent yourself—to grow into your completed self—is by throwing yourself out there. Fully. Circulating. Of putting yourself in unfamiliar surroundings, talking to unfamiliar people about unfamiliar things. And then walking away, perhaps scratching your head, wondering “What in the heck was that all about?” Last week I allowed myself a one-hour weekday lunch-hour visit to a Jin Shin Jyutsu practitioner for a complimentary treatment. The practitioner is a member of my BNI group, and she offers all members a complimentary one- hour visit. Having no earthly idea what to expect, me being a practicing, very Western Christian with little exposure to Eastern traditions, I was hesitant. Not overly excited about the prospect. Slightly unnerved by it actually. Totally out of my comfort zone. It turned out to be a wonderfully relaxing experience which was honestly exactly what I needed to reduce my level of toxic stress which had been building up in my body over these last, what, eighteen months?
Most people I talk with these days are in dire need of reinvention. Out of work with no idea where to run or how to move forward, they have little comprehension of the why and the how of getting out there moving again. Of circulating among the living. Of going to parties or of actually throwing one of their own. Of accepting luncheon invitations or meeting a friend for morning coffee. Of asking “who do you know?” to mere acquaintances.
I’ve always enjoyed inviting perfect strangers to dinner. Or someone “dangerous” to tea. It’s simultaneously invigorating and wildly uncomfortable. Living in the uncomfortable zone is a whole lot more threatening than playing all the time in the safety zone. Or, as they say: “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.”
Please take a peek at a few of the events in which I’m participating in these next couple of weeks. If you need to reinvent yourself or you just need to get out and meet some new and interesting people, I invite you to circulate with me. Circulating is invigorating. Energizing. It leaves one feeling wildly and optimistically expectant and open to all that one’s mind can imagine and believe.
I hope to bump into you soon!
Blessings,
Carolina
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The 7th F: Why “Find” Should Be One of Your New Year’s Goals
Over the years, as I’ve written out my New Year’s goals, I have usually confined them to easily identifiable chunks, following a simple prescription of “the 6 F’s.” My husband, aiming to simplify-simplify-simplify, keeps it at just that: we have four kids and being Fernandez’s, we are, quite simply, the six F’s. And so we use this as a sort of model for goal-casting. Let me walk you through how we do it.
Faith: We set goals that help us walk a little further down our faith journeys. I wrote a goal of daily reading of the Scriptures, of daily prayer. I also admire the author Eugene Peterson, and I always have a yearly goal of reading more of his work. Perhaps you’ve been yearning to take a class or join a small group of like-minded souls who will come along side you in your faith walk. Commit your faith-based goals to paper.
Family: Developing wonderful families does not happen by chance. It takes insight, thoughtful planning, commitment, time, energy and passion. What simple rituals could you put into place that would enrich your family relationships? Daily walks together? Reading the classics aloud each night? Playing Scrabble together on the weekends? Dinner around the dining room table? An annual ski trip? Summers at the beach? Commitment to your kids’ sports schedules? Sitting with them while they practice the violin?
Friends: What do you need to do to continue your relationships well into your golden years? Do you have long-term friendships? What has kept these friendships alive? Sending birthday gifts and cards? Once-a-year trips together? Shopping? Frequent emails or phone calls? Dinners out? What could you be doing proactively that would ensure that these relationships stay healthy and strong?
Financial: Are you financially independent? If not, what steps should you take in order to move you closer to it? Can you pay down your debt? Look for a sideline job? Re-enter the workforce? Save more? Freeze lifestyle? With most people taking a significant whack to net worth in 2008, we are all thinking about the state of our finances and specifically, what we need to do to regain lost positions.
Fitness: Are you strong? Do your eyes radiate perfect health? Are you flexible? Can you maintain aerobic exercise for twenty minutes seven days a week? Are you committed to an exercise regimen? For how long? Which days of the week?
Fun: Do you look forward to each new day? If not, why not? What do you want to change about your daily existence that would bring more enjoyment to life? Take up painting? See more movies? Read more books? Spend more time with your kids? See more of the world? Give more to philanthropic organizations that bring you joy?
So there you have it. “The 6 F’s.” But the most intriguing “F” to me is the seventh one. “Find.”
Find that for which you were created.
God had a great idea when He created you. He had something in mind for you to do. A reason to put you on this earth. A mission. A purpose. Have you figured it out yet? One of man’s instinctual drivers is to seek that for which he was made.
As you write out your yearly goals, I would encourage you to spend a good deal of time reflecting on just this. It’s not something that most of us can easily or quickly do. For as time passes and we grow up, we soon discover that there are always new things that we are supposed to be doing. When we’re young, we’re supposed to be good students. And perhaps, if we’ve been blessed with giftedness in a specific area, perhaps with athletic prowess or musical or artistic ability, we are of course required to explore it and to use it. But as we get older and assume greater worldly responsibilities to family and kids and career, we often lose sight of what we were put on this earth to do. Meditate on this. Imagine possibilities. Allow yourself to think of the bodacious. Crazy big.
People who habitually write down their goals have a higher probability of achieving them. Study after study has shown this to be true. Commit to writing them down before the week is over. Give yourself the license to enjoy quiet contemplation. As the weeks go on, consistently review these written goals. Make yourself accountable towards achieving them. And, moving forward, watch your dreams unfold.
God bless,
Carolina
Faith: We set goals that help us walk a little further down our faith journeys. I wrote a goal of daily reading of the Scriptures, of daily prayer. I also admire the author Eugene Peterson, and I always have a yearly goal of reading more of his work. Perhaps you’ve been yearning to take a class or join a small group of like-minded souls who will come along side you in your faith walk. Commit your faith-based goals to paper.
Family: Developing wonderful families does not happen by chance. It takes insight, thoughtful planning, commitment, time, energy and passion. What simple rituals could you put into place that would enrich your family relationships? Daily walks together? Reading the classics aloud each night? Playing Scrabble together on the weekends? Dinner around the dining room table? An annual ski trip? Summers at the beach? Commitment to your kids’ sports schedules? Sitting with them while they practice the violin?
Friends: What do you need to do to continue your relationships well into your golden years? Do you have long-term friendships? What has kept these friendships alive? Sending birthday gifts and cards? Once-a-year trips together? Shopping? Frequent emails or phone calls? Dinners out? What could you be doing proactively that would ensure that these relationships stay healthy and strong?
Financial: Are you financially independent? If not, what steps should you take in order to move you closer to it? Can you pay down your debt? Look for a sideline job? Re-enter the workforce? Save more? Freeze lifestyle? With most people taking a significant whack to net worth in 2008, we are all thinking about the state of our finances and specifically, what we need to do to regain lost positions.
Fitness: Are you strong? Do your eyes radiate perfect health? Are you flexible? Can you maintain aerobic exercise for twenty minutes seven days a week? Are you committed to an exercise regimen? For how long? Which days of the week?
Fun: Do you look forward to each new day? If not, why not? What do you want to change about your daily existence that would bring more enjoyment to life? Take up painting? See more movies? Read more books? Spend more time with your kids? See more of the world? Give more to philanthropic organizations that bring you joy?
So there you have it. “The 6 F’s.” But the most intriguing “F” to me is the seventh one. “Find.”
Find that for which you were created.
God had a great idea when He created you. He had something in mind for you to do. A reason to put you on this earth. A mission. A purpose. Have you figured it out yet? One of man’s instinctual drivers is to seek that for which he was made.
As you write out your yearly goals, I would encourage you to spend a good deal of time reflecting on just this. It’s not something that most of us can easily or quickly do. For as time passes and we grow up, we soon discover that there are always new things that we are supposed to be doing. When we’re young, we’re supposed to be good students. And perhaps, if we’ve been blessed with giftedness in a specific area, perhaps with athletic prowess or musical or artistic ability, we are of course required to explore it and to use it. But as we get older and assume greater worldly responsibilities to family and kids and career, we often lose sight of what we were put on this earth to do. Meditate on this. Imagine possibilities. Allow yourself to think of the bodacious. Crazy big.
People who habitually write down their goals have a higher probability of achieving them. Study after study has shown this to be true. Commit to writing them down before the week is over. Give yourself the license to enjoy quiet contemplation. As the weeks go on, consistently review these written goals. Make yourself accountable towards achieving them. And, moving forward, watch your dreams unfold.
God bless,
Carolina
Stretch Forth Thy Hand
Last night I held what will be the first of more than a dozen country French-style diners in my home to support local charitable organizations. From Habitat for Humanity to the arts organizations which enrich our area, these “dining for dollars” events were first conceived as a way to reach beyond the normal boundaries of a book.
I had this idea that my book, ground-breaking in the sense that it was the first of its kind to address a highly-niched area of interior design, Country French Kitchens could be used for a greater good. That although it is certainly lovely and serves as both a widely-read reference book for design professionals and artists, as well as a book for renovators, remodelers, design-book addicts and Francophiles, that perhaps it could be used in a way to expand the boundaries. That it could be an engine-driver for philanthropy.
More than a dozen of these dinners have been bid on at local live auctions, held at yearly galas, and have brought in somewhere in the neighborhood of $30,000 for philanthropic endeavors of all kinds. And that’s a really neat thing.
Last night’s dinner was one of two that were the result of a bidding war between two friends. They each hit their bidding limit and, each hating to lose, asked me if I would do two dinners instead. Because it raised double the amount of money for the charity, I gladly obliged. The other winning bidder will come with her guests next Saturday.
I headed for the grocer straight from my early morning tennis game. My preference is to support locally-owned merchants who carry locally-grown produce. Ah! What a delightful Saturday morning ritual this has become for me. Fully–awakened by a solid hour-and-a-half of chasing down tennis balls, along with a thermos of downed hot coffee, I always arrive at the grocery store early enough to avoid all crowds.
Scanning the bakery isles left me with only a French baguette, which would be used a few hours later for sopping up a fabulous feast of fresh mussels in white wine sauce.
The gourmet cheese isle was full of delicacies. My personal favorite, a Danish bleu, was swept up for the planned endive salad with roasted walnuts and pears, which, when drizzled with a homemade emulsion, would prove to be the perfect precursor to the entree.
It was on to the fresh produce isle, where it was time to pick up the most aromatic herbs I could find. Sprigs of thyme, rosemary and flat-leaf parsley would all find their way into my shopping cart. Rosemary would coat the roasted, buttery cashews which, served hot, would greet my guests upon their arrival; thyme and parsley would work itself into the boiling broth of chicken stock and white wine where the mussels quickly cooked. Fresh Brussels sprouts, sautéed in my giant copper pan, proved earthy and nutty, and oh-so-flavorful with a few pieces of thick-cut bacon added for good measure (is there anything that isn’t made wonderful with the addition of a little bacon?)
The dairy isle held heavy cream, a required mainstay in my crème brulee. That, along with real unsalted butter and high-quality, extra virgin olive oil, provide all of the fat one’s diet requires (along with real ice cream of course). No artificial ingredients in diary allowed!
A bone-in veal loin was cut by the butcher. Oh my goodness was it divine! Hearty and flavorful, with a sauce whisked with chicken broth and the bits from the bottom of the pan (among others) gave it the soothing quality for which I was striving (and my body craved.)
Speaking of soothing: there’s just nothing like crème brulee for that final spoonful. My fourteen-year-old son loved using the kitchen torch to give each individual serving that fabulous crusty top; his reward was two servings instead of one and mine was watching him gobble it up with pure delight.
I confess to being a lousy Monday-to-Friday cook. Work gets in my way. As does my long commute, football carpool and frankly, physical and mental weariness at the end of most days. Weekdays find us “catch as catch can.” Grazing. Noshing on naked deli meats and cheeses. Nuts and fruits. Raw veggies or good organic soups, even though they usually come from a can. Pitiful as it might sound, it remains my weekday dinner MO.
So when the luxury of a weekend day comes when I have nothing else to do but prepare for a dinner party, I find it—surprisingly—absolutely delightful. I love primping my house: fluffing the pillows on the sofas and lighting the candle in their sconces; arranging flowers into a container and re-arranging chairs around the dining room table; polishing the silver and ironing the linens; pre-heating my oven and warming up my heart for service to others.
Entertaining requires a focus on others. And away from self. For it is such a time-consuming process that all thoughts of self must be essentially abandoned. No time for a manicure if the hors d’ oeuvres must be prepared pronto. Forget worrying about dressing like a glamour-puss when you’ll be popping your head into and out of a hot oven and thrusting your arms into sinks of sudsy water. Throw away those spike heels for a decent pair of ballet flats as you’ll be on your legs for a good eight hours or so.
Entertaining requires lifting your spirits in order to lift those of your guests. It means taking your mind off your troubles and seeking to make everyone around you at ease. Of laughing, of extending, of reaching beyond your comfort zone when breaking bread with complete strangers whom you have worked for since dawn in order to create an evening to remember.
“Be careful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” This is the Old Testament verse from the Bible which I have personally claimed as my command for hospitality. Interesting or surprising at it may be, after all the groceries have been procured and put away, after all the dishes have been prepared and consumed, and after all the dishes have been washed and dried and put back in their place, it is always—always!—me, the entertainer, who has received the richest blessing. To fill the stomach of a friend or a stranger, to serve in the humblest of ways, brings the mightiest of rewards.
It is my hope this week that you might outstretch your hand to someone who could use a dose of nourishment. Bodily or otherwise. For by nourishing, you will be nourished. In the exhaustion of the aftermath of your evening, you will find refreshment of soul. And when you awaken in the morning, you will be at peace with the world.
Sending to you all blessings on your week,
Carolina
I had this idea that my book, ground-breaking in the sense that it was the first of its kind to address a highly-niched area of interior design, Country French Kitchens could be used for a greater good. That although it is certainly lovely and serves as both a widely-read reference book for design professionals and artists, as well as a book for renovators, remodelers, design-book addicts and Francophiles, that perhaps it could be used in a way to expand the boundaries. That it could be an engine-driver for philanthropy.
More than a dozen of these dinners have been bid on at local live auctions, held at yearly galas, and have brought in somewhere in the neighborhood of $30,000 for philanthropic endeavors of all kinds. And that’s a really neat thing.
Last night’s dinner was one of two that were the result of a bidding war between two friends. They each hit their bidding limit and, each hating to lose, asked me if I would do two dinners instead. Because it raised double the amount of money for the charity, I gladly obliged. The other winning bidder will come with her guests next Saturday.
I headed for the grocer straight from my early morning tennis game. My preference is to support locally-owned merchants who carry locally-grown produce. Ah! What a delightful Saturday morning ritual this has become for me. Fully–awakened by a solid hour-and-a-half of chasing down tennis balls, along with a thermos of downed hot coffee, I always arrive at the grocery store early enough to avoid all crowds.
Scanning the bakery isles left me with only a French baguette, which would be used a few hours later for sopping up a fabulous feast of fresh mussels in white wine sauce.
The gourmet cheese isle was full of delicacies. My personal favorite, a Danish bleu, was swept up for the planned endive salad with roasted walnuts and pears, which, when drizzled with a homemade emulsion, would prove to be the perfect precursor to the entree.
It was on to the fresh produce isle, where it was time to pick up the most aromatic herbs I could find. Sprigs of thyme, rosemary and flat-leaf parsley would all find their way into my shopping cart. Rosemary would coat the roasted, buttery cashews which, served hot, would greet my guests upon their arrival; thyme and parsley would work itself into the boiling broth of chicken stock and white wine where the mussels quickly cooked. Fresh Brussels sprouts, sautéed in my giant copper pan, proved earthy and nutty, and oh-so-flavorful with a few pieces of thick-cut bacon added for good measure (is there anything that isn’t made wonderful with the addition of a little bacon?)
The dairy isle held heavy cream, a required mainstay in my crème brulee. That, along with real unsalted butter and high-quality, extra virgin olive oil, provide all of the fat one’s diet requires (along with real ice cream of course). No artificial ingredients in diary allowed!
A bone-in veal loin was cut by the butcher. Oh my goodness was it divine! Hearty and flavorful, with a sauce whisked with chicken broth and the bits from the bottom of the pan (among others) gave it the soothing quality for which I was striving (and my body craved.)
Speaking of soothing: there’s just nothing like crème brulee for that final spoonful. My fourteen-year-old son loved using the kitchen torch to give each individual serving that fabulous crusty top; his reward was two servings instead of one and mine was watching him gobble it up with pure delight.
I confess to being a lousy Monday-to-Friday cook. Work gets in my way. As does my long commute, football carpool and frankly, physical and mental weariness at the end of most days. Weekdays find us “catch as catch can.” Grazing. Noshing on naked deli meats and cheeses. Nuts and fruits. Raw veggies or good organic soups, even though they usually come from a can. Pitiful as it might sound, it remains my weekday dinner MO.
So when the luxury of a weekend day comes when I have nothing else to do but prepare for a dinner party, I find it—surprisingly—absolutely delightful. I love primping my house: fluffing the pillows on the sofas and lighting the candle in their sconces; arranging flowers into a container and re-arranging chairs around the dining room table; polishing the silver and ironing the linens; pre-heating my oven and warming up my heart for service to others.
Entertaining requires a focus on others. And away from self. For it is such a time-consuming process that all thoughts of self must be essentially abandoned. No time for a manicure if the hors d’ oeuvres must be prepared pronto. Forget worrying about dressing like a glamour-puss when you’ll be popping your head into and out of a hot oven and thrusting your arms into sinks of sudsy water. Throw away those spike heels for a decent pair of ballet flats as you’ll be on your legs for a good eight hours or so.
Entertaining requires lifting your spirits in order to lift those of your guests. It means taking your mind off your troubles and seeking to make everyone around you at ease. Of laughing, of extending, of reaching beyond your comfort zone when breaking bread with complete strangers whom you have worked for since dawn in order to create an evening to remember.
“Be careful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” This is the Old Testament verse from the Bible which I have personally claimed as my command for hospitality. Interesting or surprising at it may be, after all the groceries have been procured and put away, after all the dishes have been prepared and consumed, and after all the dishes have been washed and dried and put back in their place, it is always—always!—me, the entertainer, who has received the richest blessing. To fill the stomach of a friend or a stranger, to serve in the humblest of ways, brings the mightiest of rewards.
It is my hope this week that you might outstretch your hand to someone who could use a dose of nourishment. Bodily or otherwise. For by nourishing, you will be nourished. In the exhaustion of the aftermath of your evening, you will find refreshment of soul. And when you awaken in the morning, you will be at peace with the world.
Sending to you all blessings on your week,
Carolina
The Cupcake Index
We’ve used indices for about one hundred years to measure the strength of the economy. Bullish and bearish sentiment indices on the S&P 500. The Dow Jones Industrial average. Net buyers to net sellers. The Consumer Price Index. Producer Price Index.
And then there are the more subjective indices. The Hemline Index, which uses the relative skirt length to kneecap in determining direction of the capital markets. The Lipstick Index, which measures purchases of small indulgences as a reflection of consumer buy-in, or of the pent-up demand for luxury when one is least able to afford it on a grander scale.
I propose we add another relevant and clearly revealing economic index: The Cupcake Index. For not only in times of economic uncertainty but in times of economic prosperity, cupcakes provide the immediate gratification that people all over the world need.
And we especially need them now. Small enough in which to indulge without gnashing your will-powerless teeth with guilt. Tidy enough to embrace without leaving too many crumbs as out-of-the-office-for-a-quick-cupcake-fix evidence of breaking-the-diet-and-taking-a-work-break-all-at-the-same-time. Sweet enough to inject that required afternoon shot of sugar to the brain. Inexpensive enough to justify when most other discretionary longings are on indefinite freeze.
But alas, cupcakes provide one more element which practically requires them to receive an index all their own: they propel everyone higher on the happiness scale. And God only knows how we all need to inject more happiness into our lives. Cupcakes, while perfectly glorious eaten in private, are particularly satisfying while shared. Unlike an entire cake which, let’s face it, represents a wholehearted commitment (of inviting the neighbors over for an hour and putting up a pot of coffee), cupcakes can be noshed on with or without beverage of choice. Gulped down within a few minutes. Walking, standing or sitting at a cupcaketerie with a friend. A lone cupcake—vanilla, chocolate or ohmygosh red velvet—topped with buttercream icing cut in half and shared with two forks, is perhaps the single best remedy for a global economic recession. And moving higher on that happiness scale.
And I’m not alone. The New York Times feature story “Will Cupcakes Be the Next Krispy Kreme?” prompted blog responses from readers across the country. Turns out: people are mad for cupcakes. They’re clearly here to stay. Having taken the Big Apple by storm, lines wrap around the corner at the now famous Magnolia’s Bakery. Its third store just opened, competing head-on with Crumbs and Cupcake Café, among others. And while sales figures are hard to pin down, it’s clear that entrepreneurs are committed to elevating the previously lowly school-kids treat to connoisseur status. And heck: at $3 per, this is not exactly an every day treat. If one were to chart the Cupcake Index, I presume the line would be upward sloping to the right. With bullish indicators.
I would advise that as you move forward through these grayest of days: days of political and economic uncertainty, days when we clearly don’t know whether our favorite auto maker will survive the end of the fiscal year or find itself on the auction block, days when you’re not sure where or for how long you will be employed, that you treat yourself and a friend to a cupcake. To a forced break from the madness. To meaningful conversation. To creating a business relationship or continuing a personal friendship. To two forks and two coffees. To creating a distinct memory.
Oh, sweet cupcake. The cure for all of life’s worries. May an index be created just for you.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
And then there are the more subjective indices. The Hemline Index, which uses the relative skirt length to kneecap in determining direction of the capital markets. The Lipstick Index, which measures purchases of small indulgences as a reflection of consumer buy-in, or of the pent-up demand for luxury when one is least able to afford it on a grander scale.
I propose we add another relevant and clearly revealing economic index: The Cupcake Index. For not only in times of economic uncertainty but in times of economic prosperity, cupcakes provide the immediate gratification that people all over the world need.
And we especially need them now. Small enough in which to indulge without gnashing your will-powerless teeth with guilt. Tidy enough to embrace without leaving too many crumbs as out-of-the-office-for-a-quick-cupcake-fix evidence of breaking-the-diet-and-taking-a-work-break-all-at-the-same-time. Sweet enough to inject that required afternoon shot of sugar to the brain. Inexpensive enough to justify when most other discretionary longings are on indefinite freeze.
But alas, cupcakes provide one more element which practically requires them to receive an index all their own: they propel everyone higher on the happiness scale. And God only knows how we all need to inject more happiness into our lives. Cupcakes, while perfectly glorious eaten in private, are particularly satisfying while shared. Unlike an entire cake which, let’s face it, represents a wholehearted commitment (of inviting the neighbors over for an hour and putting up a pot of coffee), cupcakes can be noshed on with or without beverage of choice. Gulped down within a few minutes. Walking, standing or sitting at a cupcaketerie with a friend. A lone cupcake—vanilla, chocolate or ohmygosh red velvet—topped with buttercream icing cut in half and shared with two forks, is perhaps the single best remedy for a global economic recession. And moving higher on that happiness scale.
And I’m not alone. The New York Times feature story “Will Cupcakes Be the Next Krispy Kreme?” prompted blog responses from readers across the country. Turns out: people are mad for cupcakes. They’re clearly here to stay. Having taken the Big Apple by storm, lines wrap around the corner at the now famous Magnolia’s Bakery. Its third store just opened, competing head-on with Crumbs and Cupcake Café, among others. And while sales figures are hard to pin down, it’s clear that entrepreneurs are committed to elevating the previously lowly school-kids treat to connoisseur status. And heck: at $3 per, this is not exactly an every day treat. If one were to chart the Cupcake Index, I presume the line would be upward sloping to the right. With bullish indicators.
I would advise that as you move forward through these grayest of days: days of political and economic uncertainty, days when we clearly don’t know whether our favorite auto maker will survive the end of the fiscal year or find itself on the auction block, days when you’re not sure where or for how long you will be employed, that you treat yourself and a friend to a cupcake. To a forced break from the madness. To meaningful conversation. To creating a business relationship or continuing a personal friendship. To two forks and two coffees. To creating a distinct memory.
Oh, sweet cupcake. The cure for all of life’s worries. May an index be created just for you.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Savoring the Fruit
Observing my kids over these past twentysomething years has found me many days scratching my head. These envelope-pushing-willful-behaving-socially-flying creatures that I could not in my wildest imagination conceive when I was a teen several decades ago, have left me positively bewildered on more occasions than I can count on my elbows-fingers-knees-and-toes.
And then, some days, everything about them seems golden.
I enjoyed that wonderfully-blissful refreshing shower of abundance this past week. Our second son, who is a plebe at the United States Naval Academy, tried out and passed the first round of competitive entry into a combat squad he hopes to be a part of, and called us as we were trying to fall asleep to tell us the good news.
The very next day, we got a call from our oldest son telling us the great news that he got accepted for the hoped-for part-time job teaching inner-city middle schoolers English and Math, while simultaneously studying through his senior year of college, working as a lab assistant, preparing for the GRE and applying to grad schools.
One day later, our daughter’s photo showed up in our small town newspaper, showing her digging a volleyball during one of their varsity games; our youngest son’s football plays were highlighted in the same newspaper in an article featuring eighth grade sports.
It was a good week. I beamed ear to ear with joy at their accomplishments and felt my heart take a literal leap.
More than twenty years ago, when I voluntarily derailed out of my corporate career on Wall Street to enter into the whole new world of at-home motherhood with back-to-back pregnancies and a wardrobe of maternity clothes (that became my permanent wardrobe for nearly a decade), I had no idea how the seeds we planted would sprout. Many, many times it seemed as though the seeds were thrown into frozen soil. The terrible two’s never lasted for just the second year of life, but stretched well into the “terrific” three’s and tug-of-war four’s. The “golden years” of five and six (or so I remember our pediatrician calling them that) never seemed particularly easy either. During middle school, I faced many days when I wasn’t quite sure I was going to make it. Head-scratching indeed.
And then somehow, with that mysterious unseen alchemy of sunshine, water and several spikes of high-packed vitamins, those seeds took root and one day, taking us all quite by surprise, sprouted. They grew and they grew. Trunks came up too. And became shockingly hardy. And then the trees bore fruit. Plump, juicy, savory fruit.
We happy parents are not bragging nor boasting. No. We’re simply delighted that our kids’ wings have taken hold and, sturdy and strong, have lifted them to heights not particularly on our horizons and directions never programmed into our mental GPS’s.
These past few weeks have left me facing dizzying news in the capital markets, disequilibrium with these historically unprecedented times and frustration with the irrational and illogical unfoldings on the financial and political scenes. If you are feeling the same way, try to take some time out to look for slivers of light. For moonbeams in parenting. Positive energy in your workspace. Words of encouragement from your colleagues.
I sense an overall edginess in our nation. An uneasiness with things on multiples fronts. My friends report difficulty sleeping. Worrying about their futures.
Looking for progress—large or small—is one of the joys of investing time and talent into other people. Of working with them to use their gifts and talents for the betterment of the world.
As you move forward these next few weeks, take a deep breath. Or two. And try to take time to savor the fruit. Juicy fruit is your sweet reward.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
And then, some days, everything about them seems golden.
I enjoyed that wonderfully-blissful refreshing shower of abundance this past week. Our second son, who is a plebe at the United States Naval Academy, tried out and passed the first round of competitive entry into a combat squad he hopes to be a part of, and called us as we were trying to fall asleep to tell us the good news.
The very next day, we got a call from our oldest son telling us the great news that he got accepted for the hoped-for part-time job teaching inner-city middle schoolers English and Math, while simultaneously studying through his senior year of college, working as a lab assistant, preparing for the GRE and applying to grad schools.
One day later, our daughter’s photo showed up in our small town newspaper, showing her digging a volleyball during one of their varsity games; our youngest son’s football plays were highlighted in the same newspaper in an article featuring eighth grade sports.
It was a good week. I beamed ear to ear with joy at their accomplishments and felt my heart take a literal leap.
More than twenty years ago, when I voluntarily derailed out of my corporate career on Wall Street to enter into the whole new world of at-home motherhood with back-to-back pregnancies and a wardrobe of maternity clothes (that became my permanent wardrobe for nearly a decade), I had no idea how the seeds we planted would sprout. Many, many times it seemed as though the seeds were thrown into frozen soil. The terrible two’s never lasted for just the second year of life, but stretched well into the “terrific” three’s and tug-of-war four’s. The “golden years” of five and six (or so I remember our pediatrician calling them that) never seemed particularly easy either. During middle school, I faced many days when I wasn’t quite sure I was going to make it. Head-scratching indeed.
And then somehow, with that mysterious unseen alchemy of sunshine, water and several spikes of high-packed vitamins, those seeds took root and one day, taking us all quite by surprise, sprouted. They grew and they grew. Trunks came up too. And became shockingly hardy. And then the trees bore fruit. Plump, juicy, savory fruit.
We happy parents are not bragging nor boasting. No. We’re simply delighted that our kids’ wings have taken hold and, sturdy and strong, have lifted them to heights not particularly on our horizons and directions never programmed into our mental GPS’s.
These past few weeks have left me facing dizzying news in the capital markets, disequilibrium with these historically unprecedented times and frustration with the irrational and illogical unfoldings on the financial and political scenes. If you are feeling the same way, try to take some time out to look for slivers of light. For moonbeams in parenting. Positive energy in your workspace. Words of encouragement from your colleagues.
I sense an overall edginess in our nation. An uneasiness with things on multiples fronts. My friends report difficulty sleeping. Worrying about their futures.
Looking for progress—large or small—is one of the joys of investing time and talent into other people. Of working with them to use their gifts and talents for the betterment of the world.
As you move forward these next few weeks, take a deep breath. Or two. And try to take time to savor the fruit. Juicy fruit is your sweet reward.
Blessings on your week,
Carolina
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Surprised by Joy…in Vermont
You only have a few weeks—or days—left to find joie in fall’s foliage. While you might be witnessing it in your own neighborhood, or perhaps have even driven somewhere close to home to see it in all of its glory, I can practically guarantee that you will not fully experience it unless you visit Vermont,
I traveled there a couple weekends ago when I took my daughter college-shopping throughout New England. As if the trees on the drive through Connecticut and Massachusetts weren’t breathtakingly gorgeous enough, with their brilliant golds and burnished reds, they left me practically gasping for air once we crossed the line into Vermont.
I can’t say that I’ve ever really traveled much throughout Vermont. A couple of ski trips there in the dead of winter were wonderful in their ski-resort campyness and exhilaratingly crisp still air (not to mention competitive downhill runs.) But fall in Vermont? Oh my goodness……
Tourists come from across the country and indeed, around the world, to visit Vermont in the fall. I’ve read about this for years of course. Always wanted to see if it’s what it’s cracked up to be.
It is. Trust me. Go see for yourself. Here’s what we did:
Burlington. We visited UVM, or Universitas Virdis Montis, the University of the Green Mountains. Set against the backdrop of Lake Champlain, between the Adirondack and Green Mountains, it is, without a doubt, one of the prettiest university towns in the country. Walk Church Street and take a peek inside the funky clothing stores, high end April Cornell, the candy shop (try the homemade dark chocolate bark studded with almonds!) and the chock-full-of-great-finds women’s consignment store. I picked up a Ralph Lauren cabled cotton sweater in the United States Naval Academy yellow for fall football game good cheer. It was a veritable steal! Eat outside at Leunig’s Bistro (115 Church Street). Authentic French bistro with inspiring food and charming décor. We had a perfect dining experience during our one night in Burlington, and my daughter and I created a lifelong memory there. A terrific escape.
Middlebury. Home to nationally-ranked liberal arts Middlebury College, this tiny town is as quaint as they come, being settled right after the end of the Revolutionary War. Downtown streets are lined with expensive boutiques and coffee shops, which are all within a short walking distance to the fabulous Middlebury Inn. If you get the opportunity to travel to Vermont, please call well ahead for a reservation, and try to stay at the Inn. Otherwise, you’ll be forced to stay at either a Bed & Breakfast (of which there are plenty) or drive, as we did, in the middle of the night in search of the last remaining room within a one-hundred mile radius of the town.
Killington. We wound up spending the night at Summit Lodge here, a ski lodge the sight of which was the prettiest one for sore eyes we could recall in recent memory. Having reserved a room at a B & B twenty minutes outside of Middlebury College, only to arrive to an empty house in the middle of nowhere (that might be where that Middlebury name thing comes from) with no locks on the room doors, no locks on the front door and not one person or dog in sight (leaving my sixteen-year-old daughter who had seen far too many horror movies in her short little life scared out of her mind at the thought of spending the night there). Our night at the lodge in Killington worked out just fine. Dated but charming in its campy simplicity and full of roaming Bernese Mountain dogs, the beds are warm, the food is hot and homemade and its in a well-situated spot in the green state.
Woodstock. Driving from Killington towards Boston, to continue our college tour schedule, we passed, quite unexpectedly, through Woodstock. My daughter had just fallen asleep, but had it been otherwise, I would have jabbed her ribs with my elbow and made her get up and walk around the town with me. It was as good as Vermont gets. The Woodstock Inn is picture perfect with white picket fence and symmetrical Colonial architecture. If I had been better prepared, I would have reserved a room here and spent the entire weekend strolling through this town. My jaw stayed open as I wove through its few narrow streets. Perfect shops and perfect homes line perfect streets. If most of Vermont strikes you as too “Vermonty,” then this town is for you. Plan a visit here for next year; I’ll be booking my room this week for ’09. It was crawling with tourists by 9:30 on Sunday morning before anything even opened.
Quechee. The home of Simon Pearce Glassware in the Historic Mill. A destination of its own. Travel to Vermont just to visit the restaurant and shop. Watch the potter at his wheel, take videos by the water wheel and dine in the renowned restaurant. A short drive from Woodstock and one which you will cherish for years to come! Simon’s hand blown glassware has been on my radar for more than twenty years and I am still kicking myself that I did not start collecting it back then when I had the chance to buy it wholesale. I can’t touch it now (except the the “seconds” pile.) Fabulous wedding registry and corporate gift center too.
If October is one of your favorite months, as it is mine, enjoy the way the earth laughs out loud during its next few remaining days ahead. And if you are fortunate enough to be able to afford the time away, make it an escape to Vermont. It is one of creation’s true masterpieces.
Until next week, all blessings,
Carolina
I traveled there a couple weekends ago when I took my daughter college-shopping throughout New England. As if the trees on the drive through Connecticut and Massachusetts weren’t breathtakingly gorgeous enough, with their brilliant golds and burnished reds, they left me practically gasping for air once we crossed the line into Vermont.
I can’t say that I’ve ever really traveled much throughout Vermont. A couple of ski trips there in the dead of winter were wonderful in their ski-resort campyness and exhilaratingly crisp still air (not to mention competitive downhill runs.) But fall in Vermont? Oh my goodness……
Tourists come from across the country and indeed, around the world, to visit Vermont in the fall. I’ve read about this for years of course. Always wanted to see if it’s what it’s cracked up to be.
It is. Trust me. Go see for yourself. Here’s what we did:
Burlington. We visited UVM, or Universitas Virdis Montis, the University of the Green Mountains. Set against the backdrop of Lake Champlain, between the Adirondack and Green Mountains, it is, without a doubt, one of the prettiest university towns in the country. Walk Church Street and take a peek inside the funky clothing stores, high end April Cornell, the candy shop (try the homemade dark chocolate bark studded with almonds!) and the chock-full-of-great-finds women’s consignment store. I picked up a Ralph Lauren cabled cotton sweater in the United States Naval Academy yellow for fall football game good cheer. It was a veritable steal! Eat outside at Leunig’s Bistro (115 Church Street). Authentic French bistro with inspiring food and charming décor. We had a perfect dining experience during our one night in Burlington, and my daughter and I created a lifelong memory there. A terrific escape.
Middlebury. Home to nationally-ranked liberal arts Middlebury College, this tiny town is as quaint as they come, being settled right after the end of the Revolutionary War. Downtown streets are lined with expensive boutiques and coffee shops, which are all within a short walking distance to the fabulous Middlebury Inn. If you get the opportunity to travel to Vermont, please call well ahead for a reservation, and try to stay at the Inn. Otherwise, you’ll be forced to stay at either a Bed & Breakfast (of which there are plenty) or drive, as we did, in the middle of the night in search of the last remaining room within a one-hundred mile radius of the town.
Killington. We wound up spending the night at Summit Lodge here, a ski lodge the sight of which was the prettiest one for sore eyes we could recall in recent memory. Having reserved a room at a B & B twenty minutes outside of Middlebury College, only to arrive to an empty house in the middle of nowhere (that might be where that Middlebury name thing comes from) with no locks on the room doors, no locks on the front door and not one person or dog in sight (leaving my sixteen-year-old daughter who had seen far too many horror movies in her short little life scared out of her mind at the thought of spending the night there). Our night at the lodge in Killington worked out just fine. Dated but charming in its campy simplicity and full of roaming Bernese Mountain dogs, the beds are warm, the food is hot and homemade and its in a well-situated spot in the green state.
Woodstock. Driving from Killington towards Boston, to continue our college tour schedule, we passed, quite unexpectedly, through Woodstock. My daughter had just fallen asleep, but had it been otherwise, I would have jabbed her ribs with my elbow and made her get up and walk around the town with me. It was as good as Vermont gets. The Woodstock Inn is picture perfect with white picket fence and symmetrical Colonial architecture. If I had been better prepared, I would have reserved a room here and spent the entire weekend strolling through this town. My jaw stayed open as I wove through its few narrow streets. Perfect shops and perfect homes line perfect streets. If most of Vermont strikes you as too “Vermonty,” then this town is for you. Plan a visit here for next year; I’ll be booking my room this week for ’09. It was crawling with tourists by 9:30 on Sunday morning before anything even opened.
Quechee. The home of Simon Pearce Glassware in the Historic Mill. A destination of its own. Travel to Vermont just to visit the restaurant and shop. Watch the potter at his wheel, take videos by the water wheel and dine in the renowned restaurant. A short drive from Woodstock and one which you will cherish for years to come! Simon’s hand blown glassware has been on my radar for more than twenty years and I am still kicking myself that I did not start collecting it back then when I had the chance to buy it wholesale. I can’t touch it now (except the the “seconds” pile.) Fabulous wedding registry and corporate gift center too.
If October is one of your favorite months, as it is mine, enjoy the way the earth laughs out loud during its next few remaining days ahead. And if you are fortunate enough to be able to afford the time away, make it an escape to Vermont. It is one of creation’s true masterpieces.
Until next week, all blessings,
Carolina
Sunday, September 21, 2008
How To Cope When Life Comes At You
My friend, Hattie, corrected me once when I complained about being stressed out from over-extending myself. “Darling,” she gently scolded, “don’t say that. It’s negative. Just admit that life is coming at you.”
Such was this past week. I witnessed things as never before professionally. Many of its events were historically unprecedented. I sat at my kitchen table early Saturday morning with a piping hot cup of joe, staring into space, needing the time to just sit and sip in silence. It was my simple kitchen table that served as the shock absorber on life’s past five bumpy days.
We all need coping mechanisms for when life comes at us. Be it a health scare or a horrifying diagnosis, loss of job or loss of spouse, wayward child or ailing elderly parent, when life comes at us hard, we need to sort things out. My strategies:
Crack of dawn exercise. My morning swims keep me sane. Long and private, wonderfully monotonous in the repetitive motions of a swimmer’s stroke, they free my mind to focus on the task or problem at hand. I solve most of life’s urgent dilemmas in the pool. Most of my articles and books are composed while swimming, sorting it all out in the water, and simply putting my thoughts down on my laptop later.
Protein at breakfast. Two hard-boiled eggs are one of life’s simplest remedies. With a little salt and pepper. Get that protein in and get it now. You can nosh on emergency dark chocolate a couple hours later.
Water and coffee by day. Drink organic. As much as required. With a little real cream. No sugar. No chemicals. No diet sodas. No sodas at all. Just the real stuff. (It puts hair on your chest.)
Radio during your commute. And by day. No TV. (Save that for just before bedtime.) And no fluff. (Just give us the facts please.)
Wear high heels and your favorite clothing. You’ll walk taller. And feel better.
Get mani-pedi’s in advance of tough weeks. In happy colors. Bright pink usually does the trick.
Deal with your hair . Add more highlights. (Don’t ask me why. Platinum just works.)
Walk the stairs or around the block. Running up a couple flights instead of taking the elevator will give you the mid-day rush of oxygen that your brain needs as well as five minutes of thinking time.
Keep a cool head. Realizing that you can only do your very best will be a huge step towards framing your anxiety. You can’t control the world; it’s going to spin well beyond your grasp. You can only control how you respond to events. Calm, cool and collected are usually the passwords here.
Employ a diligent work ethic. Time spent at the water cooler is time spent away from the task at hand. Plan your work and (faithfully, cheerfully) work your plan.
Maintain your calendar. Keep your appointments, dropping only the optional ones and keeping all of the others. The world will still spin on its axis. People need to see you. And you them.
Get some sleep. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night, tempted to check email and turn on the news, I force myself back to sleep, knowing that I need physical fortification.
Pray. And allow others to pray for you. As they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. One of my clients told me she wakes up at three every morning and prays for me; another prayed with me on the phone on Friday, when life came at me especially hard.
Take the weekends off. Do all the stuff that keeps your household running smoothly. Like laundry. I visited the shoe cobbler with a couple pair of shoes needing attention; the flooring contractor to return unused wood; the grocer to stock up both pantry and fridge. As much as my brain told me to haul my body up to my study to immerse myself in my newest book project, my mind hadn’t yet caught up with last week. I needed quiet time. And I allowed the drive time running errands to be just that. No radio. No ipod. Just me and my mind and the gorgeous Connecticut countryside. Time to reflect on the fragility of life.
Go solo when need be. Stay in. I skipped a concert I was supposed to go to Saturday night. Couldn’t quite deal with people or crowds. Cooked dinner for me and my hubby and loved cocooning inside my own home. Phoned our sons who are away in college and enjoyed more than ever hearing their voices.
I enjoyed my family and my church today. I taught my three year-olds in cherub choir. Watched my son play football. Spent some time in the fresh air.
Shakespeare said that life holds more tragedy than comedy. Whether or not that’s true, we’ll never know. But we know for certain that life holds both. And requires, from each of us, mechanisms for coping when life comes at us.
As you witnessed history this past week when life came at you to one degree or another, I hope you dealt with it graciously. And I pray you will stay connected and will share its lessons with those whom you most love.
Blessings,
Carolina
Such was this past week. I witnessed things as never before professionally. Many of its events were historically unprecedented. I sat at my kitchen table early Saturday morning with a piping hot cup of joe, staring into space, needing the time to just sit and sip in silence. It was my simple kitchen table that served as the shock absorber on life’s past five bumpy days.
We all need coping mechanisms for when life comes at us. Be it a health scare or a horrifying diagnosis, loss of job or loss of spouse, wayward child or ailing elderly parent, when life comes at us hard, we need to sort things out. My strategies:
Crack of dawn exercise. My morning swims keep me sane. Long and private, wonderfully monotonous in the repetitive motions of a swimmer’s stroke, they free my mind to focus on the task or problem at hand. I solve most of life’s urgent dilemmas in the pool. Most of my articles and books are composed while swimming, sorting it all out in the water, and simply putting my thoughts down on my laptop later.
Protein at breakfast. Two hard-boiled eggs are one of life’s simplest remedies. With a little salt and pepper. Get that protein in and get it now. You can nosh on emergency dark chocolate a couple hours later.
Water and coffee by day. Drink organic. As much as required. With a little real cream. No sugar. No chemicals. No diet sodas. No sodas at all. Just the real stuff. (It puts hair on your chest.)
Radio during your commute. And by day. No TV. (Save that for just before bedtime.) And no fluff. (Just give us the facts please.)
Wear high heels and your favorite clothing. You’ll walk taller. And feel better.
Get mani-pedi’s in advance of tough weeks. In happy colors. Bright pink usually does the trick.
Deal with your hair . Add more highlights. (Don’t ask me why. Platinum just works.)
Walk the stairs or around the block. Running up a couple flights instead of taking the elevator will give you the mid-day rush of oxygen that your brain needs as well as five minutes of thinking time.
Keep a cool head. Realizing that you can only do your very best will be a huge step towards framing your anxiety. You can’t control the world; it’s going to spin well beyond your grasp. You can only control how you respond to events. Calm, cool and collected are usually the passwords here.
Employ a diligent work ethic. Time spent at the water cooler is time spent away from the task at hand. Plan your work and (faithfully, cheerfully) work your plan.
Maintain your calendar. Keep your appointments, dropping only the optional ones and keeping all of the others. The world will still spin on its axis. People need to see you. And you them.
Get some sleep. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night, tempted to check email and turn on the news, I force myself back to sleep, knowing that I need physical fortification.
Pray. And allow others to pray for you. As they say, there are no atheists in foxholes. One of my clients told me she wakes up at three every morning and prays for me; another prayed with me on the phone on Friday, when life came at me especially hard.
Take the weekends off. Do all the stuff that keeps your household running smoothly. Like laundry. I visited the shoe cobbler with a couple pair of shoes needing attention; the flooring contractor to return unused wood; the grocer to stock up both pantry and fridge. As much as my brain told me to haul my body up to my study to immerse myself in my newest book project, my mind hadn’t yet caught up with last week. I needed quiet time. And I allowed the drive time running errands to be just that. No radio. No ipod. Just me and my mind and the gorgeous Connecticut countryside. Time to reflect on the fragility of life.
Go solo when need be. Stay in. I skipped a concert I was supposed to go to Saturday night. Couldn’t quite deal with people or crowds. Cooked dinner for me and my hubby and loved cocooning inside my own home. Phoned our sons who are away in college and enjoyed more than ever hearing their voices.
I enjoyed my family and my church today. I taught my three year-olds in cherub choir. Watched my son play football. Spent some time in the fresh air.
Shakespeare said that life holds more tragedy than comedy. Whether or not that’s true, we’ll never know. But we know for certain that life holds both. And requires, from each of us, mechanisms for coping when life comes at us.
As you witnessed history this past week when life came at you to one degree or another, I hope you dealt with it graciously. And I pray you will stay connected and will share its lessons with those whom you most love.
Blessings,
Carolina
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