America, the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave, seems to fall short when it comes to taking vacations.  Somehow we aren’t free enough or brave enough to take a real vacation lasting more than six fun-filled, jam-packed days.

I like the European method of just shutting the country down during the summer so people can get the hell out of Dodge and really relax.  We’re talking taking weeks off at one time.  Let’s face it: it takes at least three days to get work out of your head (assuming you left your computer at the office and your Crackberry at home) and stop treating vacation like another item on the to-do list.

So this year I am taking a European Vacation, 24 days in Europe.  Over three weeks without voice mail, email, clients, doing laundry, or feeding the dogs.   Nothing but eating fresh pasta and admiring architechture that is older than our country.  I go limp just thinking about it.

Of course, the US won’t shut down while I’m noshing my way through five countries, so work is already piling up like the proverbial train wreck before departure.  But somehow I will survive the storm before the calm, knowing that regardless of what does or doesn’t get done, I’m outta here in 18 days!

First it was the blog.  Then the Crackberry addiction.  LinkedIn, then Facebook.  And now I’m a Twit.  I’m not sure if I’m keeping up with the times or needing an intervention.  Tonight I sent someone a pecking chicken for their virtual farm, so I think that gives me an answer.

Now it takes all evening just to keep up with my social network.  At least I have one.  Some of them I even know.  I’m not sure how sincere Franchise2Go is about being a follower of my Twitter updates, but at least I have a follower.  I’ve heard you can hire consultants to develop your social network “brand” and grow your friend / follower count.   Go figure…paying someone to find you friends. 

I’m not jumping on that bandwagon, so maybe my blog fans (few but loyal) can sign up to see my “Coaching Tweet of the Day”.  It would sure boost my ego and give Mr. Franchse2Go some competition. 

http://twitter.com/MBACOACH 

We spend a lot of energy on judgment.  Judging others, feeling judged.  Some of us make it our life’s work.  Judgment rarely serves us well, unless we use it as a learning tool, so here is something that may surprise you: 

When we judge by others, we are really covering our own gaps.

Take a moment to think about what consistently sets you off about other people.  Try completing this sentence:  I can’t stand people who… 

…are inconsiderate.   Where do you see yourself as lacking in this area?
…think I am too young/old to do this job.  Maybe you are the one who thinks you are too young/old.
…think they are better than others.   Do you harbor secret thoughts of superiority – or inferiority?
…are really assertive.  Maybe you wish you could be a little more assertive yourself.
…don’t respect me.  Perhaps you don’t respect yourself.

Once you transfer this energy of outward judgment into accepting or improving yourself, you’ll notice something amazing!  The less you negatively judge yourself, the less you will judge others and the less you will feel judged by others.  Maybe there is really something to that Bible scripture, “Judge not, that ye be not judged“

But don’t take my word on it…judge for yourself.

For tips on how to identify and change your inner critic, read Mirror…Mirror.

We did it!  The Pools are debt-free.  Seven months, a hundred brown bag lunches,  and zero impulse buys later, Don and I eliminated twenty-seven thousand dollars of non-mortgage debt and officially live well below our means.

If you read my August 2008 post, you’ll remember my worry-wort mentality around money.  After numerous and ineffective attempts to change this, I figured the only way to lose the ball-and-chain was to always have more than we needed.  While eliminating debt is only the first step on this journey, it has been a fascinating and challenging path so far.  It feels both strange and exhilarating to be excited about our finances when the rest of the country is at the low end of the financial mood scale.

How did we do it?  By finding the difference between what we needed and what we thought we needed and putting the difference towards what we already bought that we thought we needed but probably didn’t.  Creating and following a budget sucks, but that is nothing compared to looking your expenses straight in the eye and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that more goes out than comes in.  This is the real financial crisis in our country.

I went through serious withdrawals.  Like an addict dying for a smoke, I fantasized about shoes, a vacation, new bathroom rugs and a car wash that didn’t require me.  Dining out was burgers on the patio.  Even the dogs were on half-biscuit rations.  Don was a financial trooper but I fell off the wagon a couple of times, usually regarding my two weaknesses: food and garden paraphernalia.  The new rototiller set us back a few weeks but we persevered.  I learned a lot about myself in the process.

So now instead of money controlling me, I control it.  Instead of charge cards (“what’s in your wallet”), we have cash.  Instead of car loans, we have car titles. 

Big thanks to Dave Ramsey’s talk radio show that gave me both strategies and a daily shot of support as I passed up yet another Starbucks.  Keith Chapman, our financial advisor, was a big help on ways to make our money work both harder and smarter in the down market before the market tanked.  That’s twice you’ve saved our financial butts, Keith.  I owe you a piece of Lawry’s famous coconut cream pie.  And I’ll buy!

These days I have been giving lots of thought to how Don and I will fund our retirement.  Obviously our portfolio has taken a hit, although not as much as some thanks to our financial adviser extraordinaire, Keith Chapman.  But the real problem is we can’t make it or save it fast enough to create more than a mac-and-cheese retirement life and I’m more of a sushi kind of gal.  So I’m trying to be creative and come up with additional income streams that will fund unlimited raw fish and a few cool vacations when I’m old and gray (wait…I’m already gray and getting older every day).

It seemed like all the good ideas have been taken, until I noticed yet another drift of dog hair floating across the kitchen floor.  Eureka!  Dog hair!!  Talk about a renewable resource that is not being tapped in to!  The uses for dog hair must be endless.  Someone has already cornered the market on crafts and Martha Stewart has a blog about spnning it!  So it is time to get creative and go for something really new…

• Blow-in insulation.  Non-toxic, unless you are allergic, and then we could use Poodle hair (for a premium charge, of course).  Poodle’s don’t shed, but we could shave them like sheep and it would grow back.
• Toupees (West Highland White Terriors for older balding men) and cancer wigs (Afghan hounds and Irish Setters).
• Garden compost (it does decompose eventually, doesn’t it?).  Not really new but no one is doing it on a big scale.
• Alternative fuel.  If the engineers can figure out how to make a car run on corn, surely they can do the same with dog hair and it won’t take food out of the mouths of starving children in China.
• Flooring.  Compress dog hair into flexible, durable carpet squares.  Good for both indoor and outdoor use.  Available in a wide variety of colors and textures.  Match to your own pet and never see dog hair again!

Please add your own ideas and let’s see if we can get some legs on this thing!   Dreams of patents and residuals are dancing through my head…

This is what you blog about when you don’t know what to blog about!

1. I used to be an automechanic for a Corvette shop.  I rebuilt engines and carburetors, back when cars actually had them.
2. I married mid-term my senior year of highschool, on purpose and I wasn’t pregnant.  What were my parents thinking!
3. My favorite pasttime growing up was hanging upside down.
4. When I was 12, I was denied a career as a guide dog trainer because I was a female.  I guess I showed them!
5. I am a faculty member at a university but have never been enrolled in one.
6. I just hit my seven year anniversary as a yogi – and I still can’t stand on my head.
7. I won an art contest when I was four – and continue to draw at about that same level.
8. I was first chair clarinet in high school. 
9. Yes, I actually made and used computer punch cards in a former work life.
10. I was bitten by a police dog every weekend for a year.
11. I raced on the Indy 500 track, twice.
12. My IQ and my weight are identical.
13. I was addicted to drugs in my 20’s.
14. I was addicted to work in my 30’s.
15. I was addicted to personal growth in my 40’s.
16. I am cultivating a chocolate addiction for my 50’s.
17. 3 years at an inner-city high school left me with a crippling phobia of large, black women that I have recently overcome.
18. My mother used to add rick rack to the bottom of my pants when I grew too much in one year.  At 5′ 10″, I still have a phobia of rick rack.
19. I won a regional square dance competition (while wearing a country skirt, petticoat and silver dance shoes – pictures of which have since been destroyed).
20. With my love of cooking, crafts and gardening, I could easily be content with the job of stay-at-home housewife, if only it paid better.
21. I have an endless supply of empathy for unhappy situations, but I have run out of patience with unhappy people. 
22. I am very shy, and hide it well.
23. I have the largest private collection of blown glass made by three generations of the Lawrence family in Brown County, Indiana.
24. I looked forward to turning 50…until I actually turned 50.
25. My first boyfriend, Mike, wouldn’t let me tell anyone that he was my boyfriend.  It took me a while to figure out, “He’s just not that in to you”.  I’m sure he has since regretted that decision.

Gratitude comes to us at the strangest times, and in unexpected places.  Don father passed away last week, after a long and difficult battle with an aging body.  Sadness and relief partnered together the past few days as the extended family moved from hospital room to funeral home to gravesite to muted gatherings.

Gene was an Army vetran and had a military funeral.  It was almost surreal to drive through the National Cemetary and see the perfectly aligned rows of gray headstones, looking almost like soldiers themselves, standing at attention for eternity.   Thousands of them, hills and valleys full of them.  At that moment, I felt the first twinge.

It has taken almost 50 years for me to recognize that the base of my spine owns the role of emotional barometer.  The pain comes out of nowhere, strong and persistent, my body’s way of feeling what my brain chooses to ignore.  I’ve learned that the faster I recognize the source and just feel it, the sooner I can get that hot poker out of my back.  Brief soul searching during the procession came up dry and I couldn’t figure out what this one was about. 

The answer came with a vengence as the two color guards took the flag from the coffin, folded it with exquisite care, and presented it to Gene’s wife, now his widow.  Without conscious thought, I became her, knowing, “This could have been me.”  This could have been the flag covering my son’s coffin, as it was so many others who didn’t come back from Iraq.  This could have been my unwanted sacrifice to my country.  And for one brief moment it was.  There by the grace of God go I.

And as the tears flowed, the pain left and gratitude was mine.

I have to admit to being a real fan of The Secret, probably watching it six or seven times and hosting two Secret “parties”.  I do believe that most everything is available to us if we are willing to believe that it is available.  But The Secret buzz quickly died down when most of us couldn’t quickly manifest our dreams, or we got distracted by the price of fuel and an overflowing in box.

I also think that the concept was just too big for people to hold on to.  Deeper beliefs often get in the way of the new kid on the block:  “Do I deserve this?”  “I should work hard for what I have.” “Nothing comes easy.”  “You can’t get something for nothing.”  A new belief cannot take hold without the old beliefs accepting it and making room.  So The Secret of universal manifestation slipped off the radar and life went plodding along.

Now let me share something that you can wrap your head around.  Let’s call it the Real Secret.  Rather than a mind-blowing universal concept, the Real Secret is more of a proven law of nature.  Here it is:

You get what you want when you know what you want.

Sounds simple but I see this time and time again.  People that are crystal clear about what they want - see it in great detail, think about it from all angles, remind themselves of it regularly – get what they want.  People that think of their desire in general terms (“I’d like to have more money”), or if some part of them doesn’t want it (“Don’t be so greedy”), won’t get it. 

Here’s why it works.  When your brain is presented with a clear, detailed  message about what you want, and all parts of you are on board with it, your brain will work behind the scenes to make it happen.  It will create solutions, see possibilities, generate energy.  It’s like having a powerful clone of yourself that can work for you when you are too busy to.  What you want will seem to ”manifest” effortlessly, when your brain has actually been working overtime on it.

But don’t take my word for it.  Try it for yourself and tap in to the power of the Real Secret: your brain.

After years of coaching executives to avoid the perils and pitfalls of constant connection, I must confess to joining the Crackberry masses.  The days of 24-hour response time to emails were obviously long gone, not to mention the pitying looks that came my way when I couldn’t access my schedule or pictures of the dog while waiting for an iced tea refill.  So I caved in and went for the Bold.

But even with a Blackberry hanging off my belt and a Garmin on the windshield, I was determined not to let technology dictate my life.  I was never  going to answer a call from the ladies room and I certainly  wasn’t going to fondle the little black box at the dinner table like I had seen so many do.  Watching whole families sit in absolute silence at a restaurant while thumbing texts to their Facebook friends was horrifying to someone who makes a living helping people communicate  better.  The productivity drain of multi-tasking and the social impact of abbreviated, one-way communication were well documented and the Coach was not going to get sucked in. 

Too late.  Somewhere along the line, having access to email and Internet became having to have access.  It began innocently enough, taking the B Box on a walk with the dogs in case the important email I had been expecting came through with good news (it did).   Then it went along on a weekend outing ”in case we needed to look up something on the Internet” (we did).    Today I <gulp> watched myself check email during a meeting and fury set in when I discovered that the pharmacy waiting area wasn’t a hot spot.  It has only been a week and I think I need an intervention.

So I have humbly entered into Step One of the addiction 12-Step model: Admitting to Powerlessness.  The Blackberry has taken me happily down into communication hell and I am looking to my Higher Power to save me from further decline into emoticons and Lingo-land.  But until then, I found this cool feature called “bedside mode”…

I know that I have a cold.  My clients seem to like it though, probably because of the sultry voice and the tendency to listen more than I talk. 

I know that I have only 9 days left to: buy presents, wrap, bake cookies, finish decorating and find holiday spirit.  Looks like it is time to reset expectations, narrow my scope and start delegating to the elves.

I know that I feel amazingly abundant (in between wheezing and coughing).  Chris is back safely in the States, Don is gainfully employed and liking it, our four-month-old Lab is housebroken, and our finances are running opposite to the national economy.

I know that I am in for a long ride on the menopausal roller coaster.  But I have found a silver lining to the extended mental vacation and wacky metabolism:  I can’t remember anything long enough to worry about it and I can eat all the Christmas cookies I want and still be ten pounds underweight. 

I know that the next time I go to the gym I am likely to need a paramedic to get me out again. 

I know that, if I die tomorrow (not, mind you, that I have any goals set around that), people will attend my funeral.  This was not necessarily the case 10 years ago, so I guess I’m on the right track.  Now to fill a stadium…