YOU ARE HERE. When I selected an alternative music radio station recently and didn't know any of the songs, I dismissed it. Then, I watched this year's Golden Globe award show and realized I recognized only a few presenters. That's when I knew it was true; I was officially out of touch with pop culture. This wouldn't have happened in my 20s, when I knew every song, show, celebrity, and scandal that the media offered.

"Does getting old start with not keeping up with trends?" I wondered. Hadn't I recently found myself wondering how people could call that rap stuff music? When was the last time I bought new clothes, anyway? Was this the dreaded sign I was officially middle aged?"

It's not difficult to see where raising two girls while pursuing a career, caring for a spouse and cleaning the house doesn't leave much time for new shows, tunes, or, the latest anything. Changes in my life, though, have made me look around. I'm working a less demanding work schedule right now so I suddenly have more free time. My girls are older, too, and don't demand my constant companionship. How am I going to spend this new-found time?

Am I going to spend it catching up on missed flicks? Good reads? Reconnecting with friends? Developing my freelance business? Getting in shape? All of the above? I'm definitely on an unexpected journey and all I know is where I've been. I imagine one of those mall signs before me announcing "YOU ARE HERE". I guess that's where the journey starts: "Here" - right where I'm supposed to be.

"Mommy, are you mad at us?"

My daughter asked me the question slowly, her eyes studying my face, her mouth in a half smile.
Her question caught me off guard. I had been aware of the tense sound in my voice that morning and my lack of patience with the girls as they dawdled, I mean, made their way toward the closet to gather up coats and hats before leaving for school. I knew I wasn’t mad at them but I began to reflect on my mood. Hadn’t I wondered to myself why the girls weren’t moving faster? When my youngest had asked me to help her brush her teeth, didn’t I say no? Wasn’t I anxious to get them to school so I could be alone?

I apologized to my daughter and reassured her that I wasn’t mad at all at her or her sister.

"I think I’m a little cranky today," I said, apologizing for my tone and offering the excuse that I had stayed up too late the night before. I also thanked her for asking the question and let her know how good it was to know she could speak up and express what she was thinking. That made her smile. I was relieved.

After bringing them to school I came home and thought more about what had transpired that morning. Then, I listened to my thoughts for what I realized was the first time in days. Still searching for a full-time position and also dealing with my new "single-mom" status, I realized that I had begun to spend too much time worrying and too little time taking proper care of myself. And it was beginning to show. My daughter’s question drew my attention to the reality that it was time for me to re-focus and re-prioritize.

It’s been two weeks since my daughter’s simple question and, after making some changes, I’m already seeing results. I’m eating better, exercising more, sleeping longer, and yes … worrying less, thanks to a simple question from one very good listener.

I went to a job interview this week for a position at Harlequin Enterprises and I think I blew it. I know I rambled too much, perhaps came across as too intellectual for the position, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t always answer the question that was actually asked. In fact, halfway through some of my answers I realized I had already forgotten what was asked.

I am not good at interviews and even overdosing on coffee prior to this interview didn’t help. Neither did the fact that I had to interview with three people at once. As soon as the interview started I found I was so nervous that I forgot everything I’d ever accomplished. I became pre-occupied with giving everyone enough eye contact and wondering if I had provided enough information. I even worried that I looked too desperate for the job. "Do they like me?" "Why isn't that person smiling very much?" I just couldn't stay focused on selling myself.When the interview was over I really couldn’t tell if I had done well or poorly. All I knew was that I was disappointed in myself for not synching the job and let myself have a good cry over it on the way home.

Along the way I picked up my daughters at their daycare, and as we drove to the house my oldest daughter said, "mom?" She said the word with special emphasis because she had, just two days earlier, decided to call me mom instead of mommy and was still getting used to saying the word.

"Yes, honey?" I asked.

"Did you get the job?" Her kind voice was such a welcome sound after all my self-doubt.

"I don’t know if I got the job," I told her, "but I did my best."

And you know, I guess I did do my best - my honest, rambling, desperate, nervous best. If I don’t get the job I will be very disappointed and may even spend a day imagining a big "L" on my forehead. There could even be some tears. Then, I’ll hear the sweet voices of my daughters and be so thankful, once again, for the amazing job I already do have: being their mom(my). No other job compares.

Just do it! Through countless bus terminal posters, T.V. ads and larger-than-life billboards Nike has been issuing this command for years. And for years I’ve tried to ignore it. Just do it? Do what, I’ve wondered - get more sleep? Already working full time and raising two children I wondered what more I could fit into my day. I put the slogan into the same category as another annoying, but memorable marketing campaign. Does anyone else remember, "Where’s the beef"?

The other day I saw a magazine ad with the familiar "Just do it!" slogan and realized, for the first time, the wisdom in those words because this fall I made a decision to "just do" something and am still amazed at the results. It was something simple, really, but it taught me an important lesson: If you just do it - it will be done! I think I finally get what Nike has been saying all along.

Like many moms and homeowners, I had begun to have trouble with clutter and was feeling overwhelmed even thinking about how to tame the beast. How to tackle it all? Where to start? There was that horrendous mess called the basement, not to mention the mishmash called the kitchen junk drawer. And what about all those photos that needed organization. Oh, and those toys I thought I could fix. Honestly, the list felt endless. I just didn’t know where to start, so, I didn’t.

What changed? One day I made a list of all areas in need of un-cluttering and what items I thought would help me turn the mess into order. I thought about the organization aids I’d seen in stores and realized I would benefit from purchasing some plastic - as in plastic bins for children’s school art, stackable shelves for beads and craft supplies, inserts for drawers, photo boxes with note cards for organizing photos by year. I didn’t plan it all out but just went out and "did it", buying one drawer insert for the kitchen junk drawer. I fixed the junk drawer and then weekend by weekend, over the period of two months, bought all the plastic I needed to get my many jobs done or at least just started. The solution to my problem was so inexpensive, too (in total I spend only $70.00). Now that I’ve started, I wonder why I didn’t start sooner?

I tackled the kitchen junk drawer first and my plan was simple and worked perfectly. I only kept what would fit into the areas provided by the insert and threw the rest away. My family still comments on how great it is to be able to find what they need in there without pricking their fingers on rogue tacks. I have to agree with them.

When I finished the drawer I was amazed not only at how organized and clean it looked but how relieved I felt that it was done. Since then I’ve completed several de-cluttering tasks and I’m noticing how much more relaxed I feel being at home. I’ve also realized that with a clutter-free environment I have more mental and even physical energy (isn’t that funny how the two usually go to together) to direct at interests like writing or my new one - water colour painting). After some soul searching, some tasks, like fixing those broken toys, I finally decided not to do, after all. Fact is, the items weren’t expensive and the children had already forgotten all about them. It just didn’t make sense to spend any more time worrying about them, so out they went. Talk about relief!

I’m not finished with the organization projects (I know it will take a while to finish sorting my photos and re-organizing the basement, for example) but I’m actively working toward my goal, which is for every drawer and closet to contain just items we use or need, nothing more. I have set aside two bins, one for keepsakes and the other I’ve labelled "decision box" for items I’m not quite ready to throw out. It is nice to know that these kinds of items can be stored out of the way and that I no longer have to look at them every day. If, in a few months I haven’t thought about the items in the decision box - out they will go. Throw them out just like that? Why not? All I have to do is ‘just do it’ - and then it will be done!

Just do it really works. Thanks Nike. Who knows maybe tomorrow I’ll even do sit-ups!

Trying to write a writing-related, October-themed essay in Canada is an interesting exercise. We celebrate two holidays in October, and, although they both in their own way herald the beginning of the holiday season for Canadians, they couldn’t have any less in common with each other. Halfway through the month we stop to spend the day with our families and friends to enjoy a sumptuous, traditional meal of turkey with all the trimmings and, more important, to reflect on the many reasons we have to be thankful. Then a few weeks later we smear cotton cobwebs by our front doors, hang ghosts and goblins from our trees and hide eerie, fright-inducing, motion-activated scream devices in our foyers. In other words, for Canadians, October is one emotional, frenetic, roller coaster ride.

Writing can be like that. The very process of putting one’s thoughts together and writing them down (or keying them in) bring highs and lows, rewarding the writer with moments of both thankfulness and fear; thankfulness that the particular piece was completed, fear that in it we’ve revealed too much or that it won’t be understood or accepted. The truth is, if you want to write you will find yourself occasionally riding an emotional roller coaster. October seems the perfect month, then, to think about why we write and why we should.

There are many motivations for writing. For some it is to satisfy a longing for expression. Others write private reflections in journals as a way to understand and learn from their experiences. For some it is simply a way to make money. Whatever the motivation, writing serves many purposes: to inform or teach, to remind or re-create, to help or heal. Whatever the motivation, there is a joy and a confidence that result from allowing yourself the freedom to organize thoughts and write them down.
These, on their own, make writing a worthwhile endeavor, but there is another benefit to writing. Sometimes what is created in the writing process becomes more than the mere collection of thoughts and words. It become something that can touch or even change someone’s life - including the writer’s own.

I truly believe that writing can benefit everyone and even more important, that everyone can write. Each of us has a story to tell and a perspective that is unique. Through each others’ writing we can learn so much about each other, and ourselves.

I encourage everyone to begin a writing journey this October by taking some time to reflect on the themes of thanksgiving and fear. For what are you thankful? Fearful? Why? Could you be more thankful? Less fearful? How? Perhaps you can start with a personal journal where you can begin to keep a collection of your own moments of thankfulness, fear or inspiration. Try your hand at writing poetry. Begin to write with no theme in mind and see where that leads you.

It’s true that writing can sometimes make you feel like you are on a roller coaster but I can promise you that it’s a ride that’s worth it.

Copyright © 2005 Pamela Hamilton

Sunlight spilled into the jade bowl, giving it an almost iridescent glow. Out the window I could see the school across the field and the men replacing shingles on Mary’s house next door. They made a game of aiming the pieces toward the industrial garbage bin positioned halfway down her driveway. Even with the window shut I could hear them shouting "two points" and "he shoots he scores" every time a shingle made it in. Occasionally, a piece would ricochet off the edge of the container and land on Mary’s favourite Pilgrim roses. They didn’t seem to care, if they even noticed at all.

At just the right time
I’ve been thinking about our pea tree and remembering one day this past Spring. There were 27 buds on the tree that day in the beginning of May and I was amazed to see the little buds emerging from what had previously been thin, bare branches. I had just studied those branches a few days earlier and had seen no signs of buds. Apparently the past six sunny days had delivered just right amount of sun needed to coax those little buds forth from the bark that had appeared lifeless until today. I called my daughters over and showed them the tiny evidences of new life.

My girls wanted to know if it was the sun that had encouraged the buds to surface? I explained that there were many events during the previous seasons that had helped these buds to form.

For example, I explained how the harsh, cold rains of November had played their part by providing adequate water necessary for proper cell development when Spring thaw arrived. The long winter, too, had contributed, and without the deep chill of winter the tree might have begun to bud too early only to have its tender shoots die when colder winter temperatures arrived.

To us it certainly looked as if those buds had just appeared but truth is, they wouldn’t have appeared at all had the tree not been subjected to some harsh weather and bitter cold temperatures.

Yesterday, I remembered that conversion when admiring our pea tree, with it’s intertwining branches now displaying their dense, green foliage. You see, yesterday I was let go from my job of 4 ½ years and I feel somewhat like that tree in November when it was being pelted by stinging, chilling rain.

Being let go from a job hurts and this could be difficult time, however, I know Spring will come and that this is a necessary part of preparing me for new growth. I have a lot of work to do to prepare for my job search but I have no doubt that eventually there are going to be new buds in my life and they are going to be beautiful.

Wide Brush Painting
If you had asked me a month ago if I thought "Women in Business" was offering topics that were of interest to as wide a variety of women as possible I would have confidently answered YES! After all, I've been working in business for over 15 years and have interacted with women involved in many different careers. I’ve known a gymnastics school owner, freelance artists and writers, theatre company owner, teachers, professors, nurses, doctors, administrative assistants, sales representatives, receptionists, customer service representatives and even presidents. If anyone had a healthy world view it was me. Was I wrong!

That was a month ago, before I met such amazing people as Nancy Baird (HVAC Technician), Angie Kelly (Electrician), Jenn Beaupre (Cabinetamaker Co-op Student), Sarah Lord (Construction Craft Worker), Cathy Corrigan (Plumber) and Kathy Anyan (Chef) - six women working in various skilled trades in Durham Region, Ontario, whose stories will appear as part of a poster campaign "Divas of the Trades" to be launched in November 2005 by the Durham Region Local Training Board.

You see, I was hired to interview these women and write up their individual stories about how they ended up working in their chosen trades. What an interesting and eye opening experience it has been for me.

I’ve learned that for all my “experience” I was oblivious to an entire segment of working women. I was painting with a wide brush and not capturing the true picture at all.

Fact is, there are so many jobs women are tackling in the trades. They are excelling as electricians, HVACs, carpenters, plumbers, chefs, cabinet makers and the list just goes on. There is a wealth of non-traditional jobs for women. (This list shows some examples of these). Trades work is an area wide open for women and these jobs offer excellent earning potential and the potential for real job satisfaction. Who knew?

Imagine not having to endure office politics or concern yourself with having the right fashion each morning. What about not having to fight the traffic only to arrive at work and stare at your cubicle walls for the rest of the day. Women in trades just don’t have these concerns and at the end of the day they know exactly what they’ve accomplished through their own labour and with their own hands.

There is a time and place for painting with a wide brush, like when you are working on a canvas with oil paint or acrylics but you need to be able to get at the details if you want to present the full picture.

What I’ve learned from these women is that women’s work shouldn’t be stereotyped. The experiences and stories of these trades women are as valuable as those of the rest of us who, like me, do sit in cubicles all day. We are all working women and are striving to make valuable contributions no matter what careers we are involved in.

These are some of the reasons why we at All Things Girl have changed the name of this section from “Women in Business” to "On the Job". We want all of you - administrative assistants, managers, presidents, stay-at-home moms, teachers, professors, writers, students, doctors, as well as carpenters, HVACs, plumbers, chefs, dental technicians and electricians - to feel welcome in this section and hopefully find stories and topics that will bring you back.

(NOTE: This is an article soon to be published in the August '05 issue of All Things Girl which will be available online Aug. 1 at www.allthingsgirl.com).

My Gift From the Sea
Today it is the music that I notice most. The repetitive, almost echoing chords answering each other as one wave and then another reaches the shore. It is a symphony that never rests yet the more I listen the more rested I become. There are other sounds, too, like those of the seagulls announcing a dropped cracker or a lunch bag left open, their voices like squeals of delight. Look, a treasure". That’s what I imagine they are calling out. "Look, look."

Children are laughing, too. Without even opening my eyes I can hear their smiles. "I’m going to run in now," one child promises another. "Me too", the other yells back, into a sea-scented breeze that carries the laughter beyond me. "Look at my castle", another child announces proudly. "That’s amazing, sweetie", answers a light-hearted mother.

I am conscious of the song of the sea, the scented air, the heat of the sun on my skin and laughter that hints of a joy that others, too, feel here.

Suddenly the unfinished projects left on my desk at work along with unmet deadlines seem as meaningless as my fretting over what to wear last week or what I’d talk about at the dinner party.

Today I’ve reconnected with a joyful simplicity I want to hold on to. It’s as if the waves have changed me, softened me, like they did to the piece of sea glass that washed up onto shore near my foot this morning - my gift from the sea.

"The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should be empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea." -- Anne Morrow Lindberg, Gift From the Sea

All Things Girl (www.allthingsgirl.com) (June/July 2005 issue) launches tomorrow! I am psyched about this one more than any other because it's my first issue as Editor of the Women in Business Section. I also have contributions in many of the other sections. I've been able to see how the ezine is put together using movable type software by a special group of women (including myself :-) who live on different continents! I've seen the issue behind the scenes and it's one of the best. Lots of great content in every section. Enjoy the issue and I hope to get some feedback on the Women in Business Section!

This moment. When a co-worker retired 2 years ago we all wished him well and sent him off with a wonderful parting gift; two tickets to Paris – one for himself and one for his wife. He and his wife had other travel plans, too, including a Hawaiian cruise and a trip to Japan.

He had been a Manager who worked long hours and whose wife stayed at home. He sometimes mentioned that he felt guilty for always working. He also talked about how he looked forward to spending more time with his wife and seeing the world together with her. About one month after his retirement she died of a massive stroke.

I had never met her but her death impacted me all the same and looking back, I know it was her death that prompted me to begin to live my life differently.

Chores. Failures. Time passing.
Seasons ending. The way something was said.

Before her death I’d say these were the things in life of which I was most aware. I was constantly playing catch up and working to get to a place where I could finally enjoy life – but somehow I never seemed to reach that place. I felt like my life had been put on hold years before.

Her death prompted an interval of soul searching for me and I soon realized that had it been me – had I suddenly died that night – I would not have been able to say I had lived life to the fullest. This was my wake-up call. And I listened.

I began to look at life through the eyes of my daughters, then ages 5 and 3 ½. Like them, I played more and worried less. Mostly, I stopped waiting for the future to arrive and started living now. Truth is, as her death made me keenly aware, I wasn’t guaranteed a future but I realized I had something even more precious – this moment – and I am so thankful for it.

Playing. Laughter. How good sunshine feels.
Spontaneity. Honesty. That I opened my eyes this morning.

Today, these are the things in life of which I am most aware and I live moment by moment appreciating each one that has been given to me.

And now, on a hot, summer day when the sprinkler is on – I kick off my shoes, run through it and laugh – just like my children.

The Talk On Mother’s Day it finally happened, my 7-year-old daughter and I had ‘the talk’. Mind you it was a scaled down, age-appropriate version of ‘the talk’ but that didn’t make a difference to me. It was still new territory and even with the scaled-down version I had trouble getting the words out.

“Do you get a baby just because you hope for one?” my daughter asked. I thought of a girlfriend who had tried for years, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant and answered, “no, honey, it involves more than that”. For such a simple question there was so much to explain. I didn’t say any more but stopped there, wondering just how much information I should share. I decided that it would be best to let her prompt me if she wanted to talk about it more.

Through the rear view mirror I could see that she was concentrating on a thought and assumed she was either thinking about my answer or coming up with more questions. Then she smiled, her eyes sparkling, and I sensed another question was heading my way. I had the feeling this one was going to be more difficult than the first.

“Does getting a baby have to do with “the sexy”? she asked, now beaming with a devilish grin. This wasn’t just a question it was a whopper.

I was glad I was driving so she couldn’t see my eyes grow big. ‘The what?’ I wanted to say it out loud but was afraid I’d embarrass her. I’d never heard the phrase “the sexy” before and wondered if maybe that’s what they called it now. I thought back to a conversation we had shared about a boy in daycare who had referred to one of the older girls as “sexy” and how I had told her that it wasn’t appropriate for him to have said that. She could have heard the word “sex” somewhere and had gotten the two words confused. After all, “sex” is close to “sexy”, sometimes even in real life. I had no idea where “the” came from.

I was lost in thought over what else she might have heard at daycare when I heard her repeat the question. “Does it involve the sexy?”

I didn’t know what to address first - her phrase “the sexy” or the question, itself. I decided to ignore the phrase for now. I simply answered “yes, honey, it does.” There, I’d said it.
“Oh!” she gushed. I had just confirmed her suspicion. She continued with other questions, like “do only grownups do the sexy?”, and “have you and daddy done the sexy?, and “does it involve getting naked?”

This can’t be happening, I thought. Wasn’t “the talk” something mom’s gave their pre-teens? I thought that I’d have at least five more years to prepare for it. I mean, I can barely explain digestion let alone “the sexy”. But just as strong as my desire to change the subject was my realization that this was an opportunity to open a dialogue about sex, myself, before she learned about it from her friends or a school health teacher. It was also a chance to demonstrate to my daughter that she could talk to me about anything. ANYTHING. This was an important moment, indeed.

I took a deep breath, reminded myself that honesty is the best policy and answered her questions without pausing, in case I lost my nerve. “Yes, mommy and daddy have done the sexy…It is only for grownups...It involves getting naked.” When I finished talking I could see that she was thinking about what I had said. After a few minutes, to my surprise, she commented “that’s why you have to be married to have a baby, because the mommy and daddy see each other’s nakedness” (actually nakedudity, as we call in our house). Good, I thought, she connected the whole thing with marriage. Whew!

Then she counted up the number of children in our family and said, “that means you and daddy had the sexy two times and Rachael’s mom and dad had it three times.” Rachael is her best friend whose mom just had a baby. “Yes, honey, that’s true”, I answered, smiling at her comment; two times - if she only knew!

That was the end of her questions and I was relieved there weren’t more. I felt like I did when I had just finished jogging a short distance after not exercising for a while: This had been a good first run but I was glad it was over. I didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts but decided I should close the topic for now, telling her there was more I wanted to talk to her about, but not today, and that we’d continue the conversation another time. I added that I’d always be there to answer her questions. “Ok, thanks mommy”, she said, sounding happy with that.

I don’t know what I had been picturing but it certainly wasn’t having “the talk” with a 7-year-old girl, but I admit I was pleased with how it went. I was also amazed at my daughter’s openness and that she felt comfortable enough to ask me these things at all. At seven I was too timid to ask even simple questions and here she was courageously asking the big ones.

You come to motherhood carrying both the good memories and the scars from your own childhood. You’re determined to do some things the same and some things differently – without knowing what ‘differently’ really entails. For me, ‘differently’ meant creating an environment where my daughters would have the confidence to speak their minds on matters big or small and to ask questions - about anything. After “the talk” ended and as I finished the drive home, it dawned on me that somehow I actually had accomplished that and I couldn’t help but feel proud - of my daughter and myself.

When I got to work on the Monday after Mother’s Day a co-worker asked me how my Mother’s Day was. I thought back to “the talk” and my daughter’s courageous questions and answered, “it was amazing.”

Just like motherhood.

The Laws of Physics and Changing Your Life
All shoplifters will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No speeding.
No parking without a permit.
Curb your dog.
No littering.
No loitering.

Laws like these are part of our collective experience. Although we sometimes have to make more of a conscious effort to obey them, like when we are driving and choose to obey the speed, we accept them regardless of whether or not we are conscious of their direct influence in our lives. We see laws as an acceptable consequence of living in a civil society and know they ultimately bring order to the society in which we live.

What about the laws we can’t see, like the laws of physics? What influence do they have on us and what principles can we learn from them? I’ve been thinking about physics lately because I read it is the World Year of Physics 2005 (for more information visit http://www.physics2005.org/). When I first discovered it I thought, The World Year of What? I didn’t know a celebration of Physics even existed. Then I started to read a little about physics and this physicist guy named Sir Isaac Newton, and about his Laws of Motion and I was hooked.

Did you know that every time you get up from a chair, pick up a book or do something as simple as moving your pen you are demonstrating Newton’s First Law of Motion? In this First Law Newton states that if there is no net force acting on an object then the object will remain at a constant velocity. If that velocity is zero then the object remains at rest. You might know it better as “an object at rest tends to stay at rest”. Newton was apparently describing me. When I’m at rest I tend to stay at rest for as long as I can. (and hit the snooze button to make sure I don’t stay at rest for too long).

This First Law of Motion basically says that objects tend to keep on doing what they're doing. In fact, says Newton, it is the natural tendency of objects to resist changes in their state of motion. He called this tendency inertia. Say it with me: INERTIA: the tendency to resist changes. I think we’ve all been there. I also think Newton was on to something big.

We typically blame our inaction on many things, such as being tired, not feeling motivated, or whatever we can think of (or whomever we can blame) at the moment. After reading about inertia, though, I think we should place blame where it belongs - on good old, constant, inertia.

Listen to how these excuses sound if we blame inertia: “I’d go for a walk with you but I’ve got this inertia and won’t be able to make it today .” “I’d really like to take that course but I don’t see how I can with all this inertia going on.” “I can’t invite them over. I’ve had inertia all week and the apartment is a mess.” You see, we’re not lazy, tired or unmotivated to change our lives: we are under the influence of inertia. The good news is that there is a remedy for inertia and it’s called net force.

Inanimate objects have it so easy. All an inanimate object has to do is sit there and wait for something to come in contact with it (net force) for it to be set in motion (for example, think of a tennis ball being sent over the net by a racquet). We humans, on the other hand, don’t have it so easy. There is no racquet that is going to propel us into the futures we imagine. For us it is our body that acts as the net force that gets us in motion and moves us in a particular direction, one anti-inertia net force step at a time. Every time we choose to move our bodies we are, quite literally, forces to be reckoned with - or more accurately - net forces to be reckoned with.

In honor of The World Year of Physics 2005 I am proposing that we become net forces in our own lives, get our bodies into motion, start moving in the direction we want to go and living like it’s the first day of the rest of our awesome lives!

After all, what have we got to lose but a little inertia!

Coffee on the roof of my car
It was like I had trained for this even all my life. I had 30 minutes to pick up some much-needed socks for my daughters at Zeller’s, return videos to the nearby Blockbuster, pick up a few dollar store loot bag goodies for my 5 yr.-old’s birthday party, drop by the bank machine and most importantly pick up a large, double double at Tim Horton’s. This was today’s lunch time sprint and I was ready. Of course I didn’t build in time for actually eating any lunch - the coffee would have to.

Twenty-eight minutes later I returned to my car, having completed all my tasks in record time, my heart still racing from my store-to-store sprinting. I admit that I felt a little smug at my accomplishment and relieved I had gotten everything done.

Back inside the car, bags strewn carelessly beside me in the passenger seat, I began backing out of the parking spot when I noticed a guy looking at me. He was a full row away but it was clear he was definitely staring at me. I gathered up my courage and looked in his direction and he didn’t look away. "OK, this isn’t all in my head," I thought, quickly looking away from him to begin, again, to back out my car.

I was curious to see if he was still looking but wondered why he would be. Not only was I wearing no makeup, but I was also in my least favorite, slightly frumpy pants outfit so I knew I couldn't be attracting attention with my fashion sense. It’s not that I wanted this stranger to be interested in me, either. Truth is I really only want my husband of 14 years to notice me, which he still does, even when I’m without makeup and in my least favorite, slightly frumpy pants outfit. I wondered what other reason for there could be for this guy’s attention.

I fought the urge to look over at him again, deciding to just look behind me and continue backing out. When I swung my head around, though, I couldn’t ignore the fact that this guy was now waving both arms in the air, forming the letter X above his head as his arms crossed and uncrossed. OK, he had my attention. I opened my passenger window and leaned toward it. He began pointing toward my car and yelling loudly, "your coffee is on the roof of your car!"

I laughed, returning a loud and heart-felt "Thank you!" before retrieving my beloved coffee from the roof, taking a big gulp and driving off. Heading back to the office, I chuckled and shook my head every time I pictured myself driving away with my coffee on my roof - and the awful splat I would have heard eventually.

I was still proud of my lunchtime performance but had to laugh that for all my planning (and smugness) I still left my coffee on the roof of my car. I found myself thinking about how during a day you can experience both moments of accomplishment and failure, success and embarrassment, frustration and exhilaration. Even when your plan seems to be working perfectly, something can still go wrong. That’s just life - real life.

Even with 15 years of experience working in graphic design, marketing communications, publishing and, at one time, running my own book layout freelance business, I am still learning, growing, striving, achieving - and making mistakes. I’m a woman involved in the world of business but mostly I’m a woman in the business of living. Aren’t we all?

As the new Editor for the Women in Business I want to make sure everyone feels welcome in this section. Women in Business is for real women, like you and me. It’s for women who are working - at a career or at home, with children or without, who wear several hats in a day or just one, who have dreams, are pursuing passions and endeavoring to make a better life for themselves and those around them. I’m not perfect but I’m striving to be the best I can be in all areas of my life - my real life. There are failures but also successes and I know I can accomplish great things every day. I just have to check the roof of my car every now and then.

He found our room on day four at five in the morning, our beach towels hanging side by side along the balcony railing, his guide. I heard the knock and sat up in my bed, surprised that I was the only one that had heard it. I should have gotten my mother but instead tiptoed to the door and peered through the peep hole. On the other side, his body distorted as if he were standing in front of a fun house mirror, was my dad, behind him the a of bright pink and orange just rising over the horizon. I told my dad later how we would have missed the sunrise had he arrived any later.

I stepped out and hugged him and told him everyone was still asleep so opened up two beach chairs and there we sat watching the sunrise and eating freshly baked Boston cream donuts. It could have been the onrush of sugar or the exhilaration of sunrise, but I thought at that moment that this was one of the most special mornings of my life and that I’d never forget sharing that with him. I also felt a little smug knowing that non only did my sisters miss the sunrise but that I had gotten first pick of the donuts. Dad told me he would be staying until tomorrow morning and that we were all going to go out for dinner that night. He even told me that if I thought I was ready he’d take me on the roller coaster at the pier.

I told him everything we’d done up until his arrival and he listened to every word, never yawning once and I thought that maybe he had really missed me. I started to feel sleepy by the time I got to day four after what felt like an hour of continuous talking. He heard all the details - the story about the sand crabs we had caught and how if you dug quickly in sand a wave had just soaked that air bubbles would appear indicating sand crabs were somewhere not too far below. He heard about Arielle’s sun blisters and how Lee thought she was too cool to hang out with her sisters. He heard about the stuffed animal I won at the arcade and that I suspected that mom had actually bought it but didn’t want to tell me because I had cried so hard when I hadn’t won anything yet. I didn’t tell him about mom’s plastic orange or that she sneaked out to the ice machine at night. Dad didn’t say much. He mostly listened, his eyebrows raised as he nodded, smiling.

He did ask me about mom but I only said that she was fine and wouldn’t she be happy to see him. I doubted it even as I spoke it but nevertheless secretly hoped that it would somehow be true, that she really would be happy to see him. I wondered if he would really be sleeping in the same bed as her but kept the thought to myself.

Everyone eventually woke up, the sunrise replaced by the already hot sun brightening the hotel room through the thin line where the curtains were parted. One by one, first Arielle, then Lee, then mom, came out to see dad. Arielle actually cried she was so happy. Seeing her cry made me cry, too, and I made sure my dad saw my tears before I wiped them away on my beach towel. Dad got teary, too, and I knew for sure he had really missed us. Lee had already gone back into the room so she missed the tears. She was too cool for us or tears, apparently. Mom saw the tears but wasn’t moved, herself. She did kiss my dad on the lips, though. It looked to me like they puckered up as hard as they could so that when they actually kissed they would still be far apart. I liked seeing them kiss, anyway, and I was certain she was happy that he had arrived.