Inquiring minds want to know

http://www.nataliedee.com 

Since I started teleworking in March, and especially after my move to Albert Lea three rent checks ago, I’ve been asked a lot of questions about telework. Primarily, if I like it and "isn’t it lonely?".

My answer to the former is I love it – I have three days a week when I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to wear, I don’t have to put on make-up or fix my hair (unless there’s a video call). I can work wearing sweats and t-shirt and all of my meetings take place at my desk, so I’m never late.

I do tend to laugh when they ask if it’s lonely. “Well, you live alone. Don’t you feel isolated?” 

Sorry, no, I actually kinda like it. I know people think because I’m outgoing and social and all that that I crave being physically around others. Honestly, not so much. Oh, sure, people are mostly okay, but a few of them can get annoying (and they know who they are).

When I was a little kid, my mom would put me in my playpen alone and I kept myself entertained for hours. The playpen was next to a big picture window and when it was dark outside, the legend goes, I would start to play with the cutest little girl in the window (early onset of narcissism) 

Then there’s my track record as a roommate. While no one has told me directly, I know I suck at it. And you can't ask any of my former roommates because none have kept in touch.

Except my sisters - they have to keep in touch with me. My sister Sue, who was my roommate for the first 12 years of my life, would tell you that I was a bit of a slob and that she refused to make my side of the bed. ('I’m getting back in there later, why make the bed?') My sister Chris was my roomie for a few months in late 2004 and she would just tell you that I was never home.

Isolated? Maybe when I lived in Rochester because I didn’t know as many people to socialize with after spending the day teleworking, but Albert Lea is the exact opposite. (Thank you Circle of Friends!)

Sadly, this week has not been a good telework week. Mostly because I haven’t been able to telework! I’ve had to go into the office FOUR DAYS IN ROW. I’ve been working on a video project and it’s tough to shoot video when you’re not physically there. 

You can’t imagine how exhausting this has been. I’ve had to figure out what to wear each day and I think I’m almost out of outfits. And don't forget having to do my hair and make-up. My cohort who has been on camera has the advantage of getting to wear the same outfit three days in a row for continuity. Lucky duck.

Going home

I'm ready to challenge Thomas Wolfe and prove him wrong. "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood." Just watch me.

Back in March, I wrote a post about the six week telework pilot that allowed me to work from home half time. It's been a great experience and while I haven't yet met with my boss to confirm that we're going to continue this arrangement, she also hasn't given me any sign that this experiment didn't work.

At the end of that blog post, I mentioned that the ability to telework half time would allow me to live anywhere I want. As the month of April started, I received a letter from the landlord that told me that the rent was going up and I had to let them know by May 1st if I was renewing my lease for another year.

Time to make a decision.

Time to stop telling friends that I'm thinking about it and take the step forward. I haven't been thinking about this in a vacuum; I've heard opinions from lots of different people.

I know there are some, possibly related to me, that may think it's slightly nuts of me to do this.  (and they wouldn't use the term 'slightly' to describe how nuts they think I am) I listened to my brother-in-law Paul and his thoughts about making the move. The practicality of winter driving and the fact that my car is nearing the end of the forcibly extended life and that I was going to need something dependable sooner rather than later.

There was  an article in the March 2013 issue of Real Simple magazine entitled "back where I belong" by Rod Dreher, that brought home the decision I had ahead of me.

The author shares the story of how he ended up moving from big town Philadelphia back to his hometown after being away for years. The sad twist to the story is that he only realized the value of small town life when his sister, who had always lived in their hometown, passed away from cancer. He saw, during the months leading up to her death, how the community showered love and compassion on her.

But, it was the conversation with my friend Jessie that helped me get right with myself for this decision and realize it's a no-brainer. Jessie and I don't get to see each other a lot, but when we do, we often act as sounding boards to each other.  We met Sunday night at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis for dinner and a play.

Her one simple question, "what is your circle of friends like in Rochester," showed the reality of my life. Socially, besides my family here, it's very limited. I have friends here, but not 'hanging-out-friends.'

"And," she continued, "it's not like your family is going to stop inviting you to hang out if you move to Albert Lea." I hope not, Sunday dinners at the Knutson's is one of my favorite parts of the week. Being closer to family here in Rochester than I have in the past 20 years has been outstanding. It's the best part of living here.

Then Jessie followed up with, "what is your circle of friends like in Albert Lea?" I smiled, then smirked. When thinking of my Albert Lea friends, the phrase 'circle of friends' is usually capitalized to "Circle of Friends." In the 22+ years since I've been gone, those friendships have remained strong and have even grown.

Way back in 1988, Jessie and I met and became friends in Albert Lea during a community theater production of "Anything Goes."  When I mentioned to her how I knew it wouldn't be long before I was back at the theater and singing at church, she smiled and said, "you're going back to Albert Lea. It's a no-brainer."

"I'm going back to Albert Lea," I said calmly. Then it became, "Oh my God, I'm moving back to Albert Lea."

But I'm not thinking of it as moving to Albert Lea as much I think of it as I'm going home.

Shortest Commute I've Ever Had

Couple of weeks back I wrote about my "experiment" of dumping cable TV and only having Apple TV. After six weeks, it's going okay. Not sure I'm cut out for doing this permanently, but worth giving it a try. 

My next experiment starts tomorrow when I start a six week pilot of part-time telework. I guess Mayo Clinic has decided not to add any more office space in downtown Rochester. Some department are making it optional, while other areas are downsizing their work space footprint and having only drop-down space for when staff has to be on campus. 

Public Affairs is just starting to get into telework with a handful of people opting in. When it became an option, a very large and very bright light bulb went on in my head. If I were to telework, I could live anywhere I wanted. And where I've been wanting to live, for let's say the last 20 years, is Albert Lea. 

When I moved to the Twin Cities in 1991, it was supposed to have been temporary, at least it was in my mind. I'm pretty sure that I went home every weekend I could. By the time I purchased my condo in '97, I had come to the realization that I might never be moving back to home, so I should find a more permanent home. I just couldn't imagine an scenario where I could live in Albert Lea and still work in my chosen career (nonprofit management) and be able to pay my bills. 

Back to the whole telework pilot...

My ideal set-up is what we're going to be piloting - I'll work Monday, Tuesday and every other Wednesday "in office" and then Thursday, Friday and the other Wednesdays from home. So much of what I do can be done at home, in the comfort of my sweats. When I've worked from home before, those days turn out to be highly productive because I'm not racing off to a meeting or getting distracted by other conversations, etc. I know that I'll never be a 100 percent work-from-home person as I need the human interaction, but I think I'll like doing this on a regular schedule. 

After the six weeks are up, my manager and I will evaluate the pilot and make the decision if telework becomes a permanent plan or not. If it does, then I'll have to make the decision of where I will live come this July 1 - Rochester or Albert Lea or ???

Training for the Crane

I'm pretty sure I'm borderline certifiable. And I'm pretty sure most of my co-workers are thinking I've crossed that border.

One of my more recent work assignments is the communications plan around the many construction projects happening at Saint Marys Hospital.  At one of the first meetings, the conversation turned to construction cranes since Benike Construction would be erecting two cranes to help with the projects.

Somehow, I'm sure without fully engaging my brain in the conversation, I perked-up and volunteered to do a video on the cranes, including going up in one.

I don't have a fear of heights, so I didn't think it would be that big of deal. Everyone at the meeting kept asking, "are you sure?" (Actually, they are still asking the question)

At a later meeting, while we were outside by the cranes, I realized that there isn't an elevator that will take me up to the top of the crane. In order to get to the top, I will need to CLIMB the crane.  I'm not sure of the exact height, but it clears the 10th floor of Mary Brigh by about 10/15 feet. Let's just say, it's about 12 stories tall.

Now, it's not about the height, but about the climb up. I'm not in shape to do this. To climb up, you're inside the crane structure and you climb a ladder then it comes to a landing and then you climb another ladder and so on.  In other words, it's both upper and lower body strength. And you have to climb down, too.

I wouldn't be alone. The safety director from Benike would be climbing right behind me. I jokingly said, "to catch me when I fall?"

"No, to talk you down when you freeze half-way up."

"Okay. That makes sense, I guess." 

Last week, the Rochester Fire Department did a training exercise on one of the cranes and I went to watch them. They climbed the tower in teams of two and it took them about 15 minutes to get to the top. I would guess that same climb will take me about 30 minutes, or 45 minutes if I add in time for the panic attacks.

Right now, I'm planning on sometime in June to do the climb. I may back out and I know that no one would think less of me if I do. But it's sort of a challenge, too. And I like challenges.

Computerless

I finally have an absolutely legitimate excuse for this lapse in blogging. My home computer died. 

It had been acting funky for awhile, but shortly after New Year's, it stopped working. I kept pushing the power button, but nothing would happen. It had done this a couple of times before, but would eventually come back to life. After two days of trying different configurations, I accepted the fact it wasn't coming back. 

My first instinct was to head to Best Buy and get a new one. But the reality of my budget was saying no. And dang it all, why did I decide to stop using my credit cards as my New Year's resolution? UGH! Cuz you know that Best Buy always has some six months/no interest deal going on. 

Second instinct - take the computer in to Best Buy and drop it off with the Geek Squad. I'm pretty sure it's the starter that's shot, but I'm not as smart about the inside workings of a computer as I should be.  I took the cover off the computer and gave it a gander, but seriously, what was I expecting to see?  I've been a huge fan of the Geek Squad for years - even before they sold out to BB - but it costs about $80 just for them to tell you what's wrong with it. 

There are OTHER computer repair places in Rochester, but I have to get some recommendations from the locals before I trust someone.

So how have I managed to last this long without my home computer? Surprisingly well. I've used Carbonite back-ups for the last three or four years. Through that service, I have a complete back-up of my computer's hard drive available to me online. All my pictures, all my music, etc. Yippee!

And it's not like I don't have access to other devices. I have my work computers, my iPad, my iPhone-turned-iTouch, and my crappy Android phone that I regret buying.  Plus I have a netbook computer that I've hooked up to my big monitor, keyboard, mouse and printer so they don't get dusty.  It really looks stupid and I'm not using it, but I set it up JUST in case.

So that's my goal for next week: Take my computer somewhere for evaluation. Find out if it can be fixed or if we have to take it out back and shoot it.

If Tim Tebow can pray for a touchdown, is it wrong to start a Novena for my computer? And who exactly is the patron saint of computers?

Jealous, a bit

It's been almost a year since I started my job here at Mayo Clinic and moved to the Rochester area. Shortly after moving, I put my condo on the market, knowing that I will have to do a short sale since the condo market had tanked.

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I was thrilled in May when I finally had an offer and the Realtor (Brian) sent stacks and stacks of paperwork to the bank for processing the sale.  Brian told me that it usually takes about six to eight weeks before we would hear back from the bank with the answer. However, Brian had worked with this bank a lot and they had been getting the paperwork through at a much faster pace. Great news!

At the same time, two of my co-workers here at Mayo were also in the process of selling their homes. Since I knew the stress of waiting, I wasn't even sure I should mention my news. Jessie' townhome had been on the market since January or so and wasn't getting much activity while Alicia had just put her home on the market. Soon after my offer, Alicia got one and we were keeping our fingers crossed for Jessie.

A big surprise came at the end of July when I learned that the bank had lost all my paperwork and NOTHING on the sale of the house had been processed. Then we had to stress that the buyer might not be willing to wait to do the process ALL over again. The frosting on the cake: I received notice of pending foreclosure! (Bank: Short sale? What short sale?)

For two weeks, Brian struggled to get things straighten out with the bank. Even faxes were getting misplaced. Most of the month of August has been spent trying to get everything back on track and moving forward.

Good news arrived for Jessie in the month of August. She got an offer on her house and the buyers wanted to take possession within 2 weeks! Today, she's out of the office, at the closing. Alicia's closing is tomorrow.  I will admit that I'm a bit jealous.

Okay, a lot jealous.

I knew what I was getting into when I started this journey, especially considering the economy and the housing market. I am also completely aware that there are so many short sales and foreclosures going on that the people at the bank processing those stacks and stacks of paperwork are over-whelmed. I just wish it wasn't my paperwork that they had to misplace.

You might be surprised to hear me say that the people that I've talked with at the bank have been awesome, polite and understanding. Vice versa, I've decided that there's no reason for me to treat them poorly; as individuals, it's not their fault.

You may have noticed that I haven't mentioned the bank. I could use social media lambaste them, but why bother? They've treated me like a nameless faceless person. I think I'll do the same back to them.

How to back up a trailer

There are skills, every day skills, that our parents have taught us to make sure that we are self-reliant adults when they finally send us out into the cruel, harsh world.  Some of these skills are universal such as how to change a tire, how to read a map, how to swim, how to sew a button and how to parallel park a car. 

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One skills that I'm glad that my dad taught me was how to drive a standard transmission. It amazes me that more people don't know how to do that. My dad gave me one or two lessons and then handed me the keys to our 1970 Ford Maverick. It wasn't 'four on the floor,' but 'three on the tree.' By the time I had access to the car, my three older sibs had already driven it, so shifting really only required the use of two fingers to change gears.

This past month, I have found that I lack a skill that would be extremely helpful to have. And I've learned that many of my girlfriends also lack this skill. For some reason, I've never been taught how to back up a trailer. Granted, I never needed to know how to back up a trailer until this past month, but that's besides the point.  

This past month has been all about moving. Moving into my new place, moving stuff to storage and moving stuff out of my Saint Paul condo. My brother-in-law Paul has a nice sized trailer and was letting me use it.  And as long as I didn't have to back it up, it wasn't a problem. Except there were going to be times when I would have to back it up. 

The first day of moving into my new place, I had the trailer filled with boxes and stuff to be moved into the new locale. I was on my own that day and I was going to have to back up the trailer eventually.  I made arrangements with my nephew to stop by at a pre-arranged time to back it up.  About 30 minutes prior to his scheduled arrival, I sent him a text telling him that he wasn't needed, I was able to turn the trailer around. 

It's important to notice that I said I turned the trailer around and not that I backed it up. There's an open field next to my new place and instead of having to back it out, I could just turn the trailer around by driving through the field. 

This past Sunday, my sister Sue and I were going to be taking the final trip up to the Saint Paul condo to get move out a few remaining pieces of furniture. We wouldn't need the big trailer, we could use an old van from Paul's business. The night before, Paul asked Sue what we were moving and then reminded her that the van had shelves! We would have to use the trailer. Sue doesn't know how to back up a trailer either.

Big points to my brother-in-law; Sunday morning, he checked the Northern Tool + Equipment website and found a solution. (Kudos to Northern Tool + Equipment for being open by 9 a.m. on Sunday morning) He got a swivel wheel for the hitch and a trailer dolly.  Once we got to our location, we unhooked the empty trailer from the SUV and then hooked the dolly to the trailer and Sue and I (okay, mostly Sue because I was giving directions) were able to turn the trailer around, re-hook it up to the SUV and we no longer needed to have the skills to back-up the trailer. 

I still would like to learn how to do it, there's just no rush right now.  

I would also like to have a standard transmission in my next car. I miss that clutch!

Recycling Convert

I am a late bloomer baby boomer ... okay, not really, it just sounded fun to say.  

Start again ...

I am a baby boomer born on the cusp of Gen X . The recycling movement really came into being during my college years and I remember recycling aluminum cans and later newspapers. 

I'll be honest, I've never been a good recycler, mostly because recycling bins always took up too much space in my traditionally small apartment/condo. I would recycle cans and newspapers since it never seemed a hassle to organize and recycle them. 

The condo complex where I lived in Saint Paul made it pretty easy to recycle with several labeled bins alongside our garages, but I was still only doing the cans and newspapers until my niece Kelly lived me for a summer. Kelly is a Gen Y kid and recycling to her is an expectation and just a part of keeping a home. She got my recycling going that summer, but the habit didn't stick. 

In my defense, I do use those reusable shopping bags. I just always forget to bring them in when I go to the store. 

In the last 10 months, while living with my sister and her family, I caught the recycling bug because Dodge County, where they live, makes recycling as easy as falling off a log. You don't have to separate your recyclables; they let you mix them together! (thus less space) One of the cabinets in their kitchen island is set up to hold two recycling bins, so you just have to dump things in there. Eazy peezy. 

So, now I've moved into my new digs in swanky NW Rochester. It's a newer building and is managed by a reputable company here in Rochester (Paramark). So, I was more than a bit surprised when I inquired where the recycling area is, only to be told that there isn't one. I was so stunned that I asked the question a second time because I was SURE that the manager had just misunderstood my question.

I'm not sure what was more unexpected - that there isn't any recycling at an apartment complex or that I was disappointed in the fact that there isn't any recycling at my new home. 

For the last two weeks, a good part of my living room had been taken over by a growing stack of flattened cardboard boxes that I had planned to put in the complex's recycling area. I had also started putting my cans, newspapers and plastic bottles into bags for recycling. Here I was all ready to be responsible and I got shot down.

With a new, and highly unusual, determination, I used the Google to look up "recycling in Olmsted County Minnesota." I found a recycling center on the other side of town where you can bring your recycling, they just can't be mixed together.  Okay, I can live with that. 

So last night, I loaded up my car with that stack of cardboard and the bags of newspapers and cans, ready for my first of many trips to the recycling center.  This morning, before going to work, I drove across town and went through the recycling drive-thru, with its several, clearly-marked bins for the various materials. I unloaded my stuff and drove on to work feeling highly satisfied and a bit smug.

I've also started thinking about how I can set up sorting bins in my new place ... When did I become a tree hugger? 

Maybe I am a late-bloomer, baby boomer after all.

Failure

I'm trying to be positive here, but the first four days living in my new abode have not gone smoothly. Packing and unpacking and organizing was the easy part. Each day I've faced one failure after another and I'm beginning to think I may be cursed or something. 

It started on Saturday with the installation of DirecTV. I've had DirecTV for years and I love it. I got a great deal with upgrades and an internet bundle because of the move and I was feeling a tiny bit smug with not having to use the dreaded Charter Communications. The installer was coming between 8 and noon Saturday morning. I called DirecTV at 11:50 am because I hadn't heard anything. Seems the installer was lost. 

When he arrived, I showed him the deck where the dish would have to sit because of the restrictions of the apartment management company. He was quick to point out that I had a western exposure and not a "clear view of the southern sky." He wasn't going to be able to install it and I was now without television service. 

At least I wouldn't have to pay a cancellation fee to DirecTV because there was no way they could get service. On Sunday, DirecTV called to tell me that they have to send a technician out to my place to verify that they couldn't put a dish up before they would cancel my contract. "They'll call you to schedule a time." Seriously? I am not waiting for someone to show up when you just have to look at my deck from the outside and you can see the problem. I still haven't heard from the technician and DirecTV still hasn't confirmed the cancellation of my account. 

And now I'm feeling bad for telling the people at Charter to take a hike; I would have to grovel now to get cable service. 

The second part of my DirecTV bundle was Qwest Internet service and that would start on Monday. I called Qwest on Monday because I hadn't received my information and they told me that UPS was delivering my modem that day. Strange, I told them that I didn't need a modem since I already had one. The service was to be switched on Monday at 5 p.m., but I wouldn't get the modem until Tuesday afternoon (I had to reschedule the UPS delivery). 

There are seven combination phone/cable jacks in the condo; two in each room and one in the kitchen.  I followed the installation directions step-by-step, but it wasn't working. I called Qwest customer service and they were no help. They didn't know which jack was the one that was activated; I would have to check all of them. Customer service asked me what time it was - I said 5:50 p.m. "Oh, maybe the service isn't on yet. If you wait an hour or so, then try again." Their records said that my service was to be turned on at 5 pm on Tuesday not Monday. And it didn't say which time zone for that 5 pm. 

I checked all the jacks and then waited two hours and tried them all again. No luck. I called Qwest Customer Service a second time. They said that since I don't have regular phone service (who does anymore?), they couldn't tell me what the issue was. They would be happy to send a technician out and check the outside lines to see what the issue is. If they couldn't determine the issue on the outside, they would need to come in and check the inside wiring for "a nominal fee of $85." 

I laughed out loud and repeated what she said back to her - "a nominal fee of $85!? Forget it! Cancel my order. I'll ship you back the modem tomorrow." Oh, no, I would have to call a different number in the morning to cancel the order. UGH!!

I'll also have to call the Charter Communications guy and find out if they would add Internet service to my cable TV order.  Grovel, grovel...

The 800-pound squirrel in the room

www.nataliedee.com

I'm in the midst of an adventure that I less-than-lovingly call The Never-Ending Move.  This past weekend, I was finally able to move into my new apartment in NW Rochester.  It has not been an easy move and it has certainly not been a very well organized move.

Since I started my job in Rochester and put my Saint Paul condo on the market last fall, my worldly goods have been scattered to various locations.  In this case, various locations means three locations - a storage unit in Albert Lea, my sister's place in Mantorville and the Saint Paul condo.

I wish I could say that there was a thoughtful and organized plan behind it all, but there wasn't.  I took whatever I thought I couldn't live without to my sister's; put whatever seemed to be clutter at the condo in storage and left the rest in Saint Paul.

Now it's time to bring everything back together and I can honestly tell you, I'm a mess. The condo is a mess and I have no idea where anything is right now.

Two weeks ago, I packed up a few things from the Saint Paul condo (enough to fill the PT Cruiser) and then last weekend, we grabbed several boxes and pieces of furniture from the storage unit and put them into a trailer. I spent many hours last week, organizing my belongings at my sisters and prepared for the move.

Saturday morning, I unloaded the trailer into my garage and started moving things into the new place.  Since I was on my own on Saturday, I would carry up a couple of boxes and then unpack them before I go back down for another load.

Sunday was designated for moving the furniture and belongings from my sister's place. Due to unfortunate circumstances, my sister Sue and my nephew Riley had to help me move. Riley and his baseball team were supposed to be playing in the state tournament, but didn't make the final cut, so instead Sue and Riley got to help me move. (I swear I did not pray for that to happen, but I was thankful for the help)

In about 90 minutes, we got all the boxes into the apartment and got the bed set up. After that I sent Sue and Riley on their way (to Flapdoddles).

That's when the 800 pound squirrel broke into my house.

There must have been 50 boxes scattered between the kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom and office (oh, and the closets). Logically, you would take a box, unpack it, put things away and move on to the next box.

Logically isn't an adverb used for most people with ADD, at least not in the face of mountains of boxes. Here's an example of how my "unpacking" went yesterday.

Unpacking a box with clothing, I decide to sort them into two piles: stuff I can wear and stuff I wish I could still wear (wink, wink).
     'Oh, I should put these into another tub to put back into storage...'

I realize there is empty tub in the bedroom and wander in there to get it. I spot a box with stuff for the bathroom and stop to pick it up and take it into the bathroom, where I unpack it.

Then I go back into the bedroom where I found the box and start to sort the socks before I put them into the dresser. As I'm doing that, I notice that I haven't found the pillows for my bed yet and go back out into the living room to find the pillows, only to notice that I never got the tub for the "non-fitting" clothes. 

At this rate, I might be unpacked by Labor Day.

Moves in the field

The month of July will be all about moves.

The move into my new apartment.  The move into my new office. And, most importantly, the move OUT of my condo when (keeping my fingers crossed) the bank approves the sale.

The office move will be the simple part, at least for me. The move was at my request as I realized that my great experiment was not a success. Our division of Mayo Clinic Public Affairs decided to have a collaborative space for those people working on our intranet team.  This is an open space with six cubes, three offices with doors but no ceiling, and a meeting space that I call the penalty box, not because it is for bad kids, but because it is an glass enclosed meeting space.

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I was one of the six people to share the cube area and although I was concerned how someone with ADD was going to do in a situation ripe with distractions, I said I would give it a shot. I gave it about five months and I told my manager that I need to get into one of the empty offices that has a door but no ceiling. The move is scheduled for next Friday, July 8th.

Also scheduled for next Friday, July 8th is the start of the lease for my new apartment. And I'm extremely unorganized for this move. There's an excuse a reason for that - I'm not sure where half my stuff is. Some things are still in the condo in Saint Paul. There's lots of stuff in storage in Albert Lea. And finally, there's a boatload of stuff crammed into my bedroom in the basement of my sister's house (with a small amount of overflow into the garage).

There's also the issue of I'm not sure what I can get into the new place. It's a bit smaller than the Saint Paul condo and I'm sure that my sectional will not fit. 

Unless I break it up into three pieces. 

It's a nice sectional and it's paid for. It's neutral in color and it's paid for. I would also have to find a way to get it from Saint Paul to Rochester - requiring both a vehicle large enough to carry it and strong persons to carry it down one flight of stairs (There's a sleeper in one part), put it in the truck and then carry it up the steps to the new place. I may have to pay out some $$ and get my friends at College Muscle Movers (LOVE THESE GUYS) to help out.

And then there's the need to call 1-800-GOT-JUNK to take care of the various items I have been trying to pretend didn't exist by storing them in the garage in Saint Paul.

I thought I would be able to get rid of my storage unit in Albert Lea when I found a new place, but there are several pieces of furniture that are either going to have to stay in storage or get put into storage (the dining room table & chairs, Mom's old buffet, the cedar chest).

I'm going to have to spend my 4th of July weekend thinking about this and that is just going to hurt my head. Maybe margaritas will help.

(my apologies to my skating friends who thought the title of his post meant that I was going to talk about skating. Really just wanted to get you to read my blog - I'm evil and manipulative that way)

Volunteering for fun work stuff

One of my co-workers was going off on vacation for a week or so and needed help covering a couple of her projects, so I volunteered. Now, don't go thinking I'm noble and nice or anything (because we know better than that!), but the assignment screamed fun to me, so I raised my hand so quickly I think I created a sonic boom.

The project was a video production that had a couple of shoots happening during her time off, but the shoot scheduled for a Sunday afternoon was my motivating factor. The producer and videographer wanted to get up to the top of the Plummer Building to shoot b-roll of the Mayo Clinic campus and the surrounding area. Besides being an amazingly beautiful 1928 wonder, the top of the Plummer Building also houses the Mayo Clinic carillon. And there was a carillon concert that day!

One of the 56 bells

If you look closely at the picture of the upper part of the Plummer Building (top right photo), the carillon is housed in the top part with the long "windows" (that aren't really windows as much as they are openings for the sound to go out). 

We didn't stay up on the deck for the concert as we didn't bring our earplugs. Jeff, the carillon player, is actually right next to the bells, but in a glass-enclosed booth. (Check out the YouTube video all about the carillon)

Nice photo of Old Glory without a telephoto lens

Besides having the opportunity to see the bells and the carillon up close, I was able to go out on the walkway that surrounds the tower. By sheer chance, I had my camera with me and captured some fun shots.

This used to be the Rochester Library, now it's the Mayo Medical School

The walkway around the building

You don't really have a view of NW Rochester since the beautiful Gonda building blocks your sight line

Looking directly down to the Children's Fountain below

Minnesota doesn't have scary gargoyles; we're too nice for that

If you're ever in Rochester, be sure to visit the Plummer Building. You might not be able to visit the top of the building, but the architecture is splendiferous. (used the thesaurus)

Technically, the doors are always open, although you can't always get in. The picture to the right is one of the massive doors to the Plummer Building that have only been closed a few times in the building's history. The last time was September 11, 2001.

The building also has a couple of historical suites you can visit that tell not only the story of the Mayo Clinic, but of the amazing doctor who helped to design the building. (Yes, Dr. Henry Plummer - one of the founding doctors - helped to design the building that bears his name.)

Stars on my ceiling

I am thrilled to say that I have an offer on my condo! It sucks that it is going to be a short sale, but at least it will be one less thing hanging over my head. If you're not familiar with a short sale, it's when what you owe is higher than what the property is valued at. Think of my mortgage as Shaquille O'Neal and the selling price as Kristin Chenoweth. 

www.nataliedee.com

I had a training conference this past weekend in Bloomington, so I stayed at the condo. It hasn't felt like my place since I moved most of my stuff out last fall. However, I realized that there are going to be some parts of living at that place that I will miss. 

The kitchen is huge and not galley-like. There is even space for my solid oak dining room table. I'll miss the character of my kitchen with its wine theme. I love the walls in the kitchen because I "mudded" them and they look very old world Italian-villa-like. I also have great memories of mudding the walls with two of my dear choir friends, Terri and Lisa. 

I will not miss the pink counter tops in the kitchen or the 1980s mauve carpet that covers the majority of the floors. 

I will not miss the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the living room. Yes, the mirrors made the room appear bigger but I really didn't enjoy when I was appearing bigger. The truth is over-rated. 

I think the one thing I will miss the most are the stars that I painted on my bedroom ceiling with glow-in-the-dark paint. It was supposed to duplicate the stars in the sky during the Winter. I painted them on the ceiling in about 1998 and they still shine as brightly as the day I painted them. I won't be able to duplicate this in my new place since I'll be renting. It was always kind of comforting to feel like you're sleeping under the stars without that pesky nature ruining it. 

I may not be able to paint stars on my ceiling, but I can see the real stars outside of the cities. There's just no duplicating that. Even with glow-in-the-dark paint.

The Golden Squirrel Award Rides Again

Distracted doesn't even begin to cover my life in the past six weeks.  There's been plenty of travel for work and skating along with some rather challenging life decisions that have kept me away from the blog. 

There is one thing that I know about myself; when my life is feeling out of control, I don't write or journal anything and that creates this vortex of not writing and not feeling in control that goes on incessantly.  I need to have the Moonstruck Cher slap me and tell me to "snap out of it!" 

So I'm back to start writing again. I have to - this is like therapy for me. 

My diet is totally off track and I haven't been working out. I'm running out of clothing that fits and I don't want to buy larger sizes (because I'll only be wearing them a short time because my diet starts tomorrow! - Ha!).

The biggest distraction has been my search for housing. I made the decision a couple of months ago that I had to move out of my sister's basement before I was a size 20. I blame her great cooking and the endless supply of Little Debbie Nutty Bars.  

I haven't had to do an apartment search for many years and I had never done one outside of the metro area. I was spoiled by the abundance of apartments in the Twin Cities area and the guidebooks that help you find them. The Rochester area lacks both. 

I started with an Internet search and found out that "luxury" means expensive and small, but with underground, heated parking.  I already knew from my years on St. Paul's Grand Avenue that "classic" means it's an old apartment with several coats of paint covering all light switches and outlets. 

I toured three beautiful luxury townhome rentals, all out of my price range, but so convenient to work that I was trying to rationalize signing a lease.  One of the three advertised "resort-style living" with lots and lot amenities at top dollar.

I started contacting realtors to see if they had properties that had been on the market and not moving that they might want to rent out. My brother-in-law has connections in the construction industry because of his plumbing business. He checked with a couple of his buddies and found me a two bedroom townhouse for $725 a month! Wow! It was a 55+ community, but they had some flexibility.  Unfortunately, when I drove past the place, there was a LARGE banner on the side of the garage that read "Elderly Rental Townhomes." Elderly??!! Who is doing their marketing? I know 90-year-olds who don't want to be called "elderly." Crossed that one off my list. 

Then a co-worker suggested searching for property management companies.  I did and I found all new places not on any other lists. I found a house three block from the office that was a bit higher in price, but what I would save on parking and gas easily made up the difference.  There was also a beautiful classic apartment five blocks away from the office that had hardwood floors and parking included, but neither the house or the classic apartment had a washer/dryer in the unit. Deal breaker!

And none of the place I had looked at allowed dogs. Cats were fine, but dogs weren't allowed. I don't have a dog, but I want to get one.  I don't understand why cats are allowed when they stink up the inside of a place and dogs generally don't. (news alert: I'm not a cat person)

Finally, I found a two-bedroom condo for rent that is on the bus line, has a washer/dryer in the unit, attached heated garage and allows dogs. I found out today that they accepted my application and starting July 8th, I will have a new home! Yeah!!!

So now this distraction is done and the new "getting ready to move" distraction will start. 

And oh, yes, that little detail of selling my St. Paul condo...

Getting A New Driver's License Can Be Traumatic

 

 

I'm alive and I'm back to blogging. I haven't been sick, just crazy-busy. And frustrated with a computer not working right. It took the highly technical knowledge of the Geek Squad to get my home desktop fixed. The inside of the CPU was so dusty, that the system was over-heating and shutting down to protect itself.

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The State of Minnesota sent me an early birthday card two months ago, informing me that my driver's license would be expiring on my birthday. Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal. Normally is not a word that I would use to describe anything in my life these days.

When you go in to renew your driver's license, you have to provide them with your current address. Since I'm not actively residing in my St. Paul condo and having all my mail forwarded, I couldn't use the St. Paul address. But I really didn't want to use my sister's address since this is a temporary situation. So I kept putting it off. Not that I had any expectation that within a month I would be living somewhere else, but it was the "I-don't-want-to-think-about-it" way of dealing with decision making.

I had a short "Harry Potter" moment when I thought about listing my address as "bedroom in the basement, 16 Privet Lane, Mantorville."

Finally my birthday arrived and my license would be expired the next day. My niece, Casey, had told me how to find the license place in historical downtown Mantorville. So did I go and do it that day? Nope. I blew it off.

I figured I would do it later that week over lunch; since I work downtown Rochester, I could just walk over to the Government Center. So did I do that? Nope. Too busy and/or too lazy.

It was going on a week overdue and I was feeling the additional pressure that my license tags would also be expiring at the end of March.

I was saved by serendipity (not to be confused with dippity-do). As it happened, I had to go to Albert Lea (my hometown) to do videotape an interview for work. Since I had free time prior to the interview and I knew WHERE to go in Albert Lea (having renewed my license there many times), I would do during that trip.

Only they tore down the newer part of the old courthouse and built a newer newer section. So I had to wander around the building to find the license renewal division. Luckily, the county register is the same person as when I got my original driver's license, so I knew who to write the check out to. Yee Haw. 

So now I have my new drivers license with the appropriate lie about my weight and my Mantorville address. I'll get a new one as soon as I land in a more permanent place. I'm sure I won't be living in the bedroom in the basement forever. Although I might stick around for part of the summer to enjoy the pool in the back yard...It's a dip I will do. :)

My love/hate relationship with flying

I've been a bad blogger...

Can't believe I haven't posted in almost a month. I won't use the lame excuse that I've been so busy because the truth is, I just haven't had the inspiration to write. Happens to everyone. Might happen again.

But a blogger friend of mine recently said on her blog that she needs to get away from the "I must post something" attitude and realized that she only has to post when she has something to say.  Honestly, why should I waste people's time just because I think that I'm witty and amusing? 

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Well, I'm back in the saddle and I've been flying more lately. I'm always excited to fly somewhere since I get to see friends or attend an event, but the reality is that flying can be exhausting when you have to worry about catching flights (not to mention catching germs) and getting up really, really early to catch morning flights.By the time I get home from a trip, I look like I was riding on the outside of the plane.

www.nataliedee.com

I had my first trip flying out of the Rochester International Airport and it was SO different from flying out of MSP.  Parking at the Rochester airport is $8.00 a day with the maximum of $48 weekly. My parking at MSP was $48 this past weekend.  Rochester has four gates and MSP has 117 gates. When I flew out of Rochester, my time from parking my car, walking into the building, checking in and then going through security and walking to my gate was almost ten minutes. It takes me ten minutes to find a place to park at MSP. I'm just sayin'...

On my flight in January, I learned a new term, "Lap Child." I guess Delta is trying to condense what they have to say. So instead of saying "if you are traveling with a child who sits on your lap.." they have taken to referring to a lap child. It just sounded strange. 

I also learned that when booking flights, be sure to give yourself enough time between flights if you're making a connection at someplace like, say, O'Hare! My return flight home from Detroit connected in Chicago and I had only 30 minutes between the flights. I got a bit panicked when I realized that there was a good chance that I would not make the connection and it was the last flight out of Chicago to Rochester. For my own mental health, I got an earlier flight.

This weekend on my United flight to Albany, NY via Chicago, I was thrilled to learn that United Airlines serves Coke products. When I asked for ice for my Diet Coke, I was informed, "we won't have any ice until we get to Chicago."  Really?  We just left Minneapolis with sub-zero temps and you couldn't get any ice there? 

I have one more flight this month to Cleveland. Hopefully, I won't have to worry about the lack of ice because I'm pretty sure it will be tough to get the ice through security.

What is normal?

I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. 

I'm waiting for the moment when I start feeling normal again.  Normal might be the wrong descriptor.  (I've never felt "normal" in my life and I'm okay with that.) I'm trying to figure out my new routine and feel settled. 

There's always a transition time with a new job and this transition could take months. Maybe years. I'm getting assignments for projects, but then face the reality that I have no idea who I have to contact or what resources I have.  Genelle is a dream of an administrative support and her knowledge is great, but I've always been a person who likes to figure things out for myself.  That independence could be hurting my productivity and it's time to change. 

But my lack of routine extends beyond the job. I'm living with my sister and brother-in-law and while they are incredibly welcoming, it's still not my home.  I'm a guest, but not really. Most guests don't get their own garage door opener.

This past weekend, I was up in the Cities and stayed at my condo. Except it didn't feel like my condo.  Some of my stuff is there, but a friend has moved in with some of her own furniture, so it looks a bit different. One moment that was most "out-of-body" happened when I walked into the bedroom closet and it was full of someone else's clothing. 

I'm stuck between two worlds. The condo isn't on the market yet, but will be very soon. It could be months before it sells and I'll be living in this limbo until then. 

I guess I have to put on my big girl pants (what the hell does that mean anyway?) and create my own normal. 

I'll start by setting a couple of goal for this week. Today, I brought my lunch instead of eating out. (Cuz I bought a very cool new neoprene lunch bag)

www.nataliedee.com

Tomorrow is my wellness evaluation at the Dan Abrahamson Healthy Living Center and I'm going to get back to working out.

Normal will be whatever I decide it is.

Everything I've Learned...so far

It's the end of Week 4 of my great Mayo Clinic experiment experience.

It doesn't seem like I've been here for a month, but I've already received two paychecks, so it must be true.

I've already made my first mistake (the first of many, no doubt) and the place is still standing. I've been told not to worry, you won't break Mayo. 

Yesterday, Deb (another public affairs newbie) and I finished our first very big project and handed it over to leadership. Let me re-phrase that, Deb and I finished phase one of our first very big project, because we're sure that after the Monday meeting, where it is being reviewed, there will be more to do.

I got my official Mayo Clinic business cards yesterday and when looking at them today, I nearly hyperventilated (and thought I had made my second Mayo Clinic mistake). My phone number had the wrong prefix! How could I have screwed that up? I went to see Genelle (my AWESOME support person) with my head hanging down. She didn't laugh (out loud) at me as she explained that the prefix on the card was correct for external callers and the prefix that I had been telling people is the internal exchange only. "Oh... excuse me, I need to go change the signature on my emails..." 

While I'm adjusting to my little corner of Mayo Clinic, I am constantly in awe of what I see and hear happening all around me. Did you see the story of the Canadian woman who had cancer and to save her life, the Mayo surgeons cut her in half, removed the cancerous areas and then put her back together?

Then there is the first clinical Hand Transplant Program in the United States here at Mayo. Imagine the soldiers who have lost their hands due to IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan having the option to receive a new hand via transplant.

What I have figured out so far...

• I have the subway system about 90% figured out
• I have learned that no meetings start on time unless you're late for them
• Where I can get Diet Coke on a Pepsi campus
• I've learned that "We take out our own garbage" is not a euphemism - we actually have to take out our own garbage
• I managed to get a Mac assigned to me - now I just need it to have network access
• I found the list of "unwritten rules" online (technically that would make them written...)
• I still have no clue as to how to work my pager or voice mail
• The acronyms used here are the biggest challenge for new people - I can't assume a Mayo acronym is the same as a real world acronym
• and best of all, I can use the "I'm new" qualifier for two to three years

As for the pager, I was given sage advice from my seasoned co-workers: Gather all the newbies together and page each other until you figure it all out.

Now I just have to find the directions on how to turn the pager on...