Return of the Business Sandra

Late last night Howard and I found ourselves tangled in a conversation which lasted almost an hour. We were both tired, emotions were a bit raw. He was frustrated that I had been drifting. I was sad that my calm happiness had resulted in stress for others. Howard was actively worried about the upcoming pre-order. My brain kept circling in sadness and mucking around in emotions.

Then in the space of three sentences, I found myself shifting from analyzing emotional motivations to listing off merchandise things and why I thought that we would be fine despite the specific sources of Howard’s concerns. The business manager in my brain came out of whatever dark closet in which she’s been buried and she took control of the conversation. Within five minutes Howard was feeling calmer, I had a list of things to do today, and the world seemed upside right again.

I have to remember that while it is important for me to acknowledge and experience the touchy-feely parts of my psyche, there is something to be said for that strong part of me who just gets stuff done. I’m going to have a busy few days and I need my business brain to handle them. However in the quiet moments when the work is all done, I also need to figure out what impelled me to bury that part of myself for two weeks. Vacations are allowed and important, but this wasn’t a declared vacation, it was more an unannounced abdication.

My brain gets weirder the more I pay attention to the stuff it does.

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Wake Up Call

This morning Howard broached the subject of the family schedule, pointing out that we’re all sleeping in until 9am. If I don’t get up in the morning, no one else does either. His point was that while this is lovely and relaxing, it is not a great way to be focused or get stuff done.

My initial reaction was along the lines of: The schedule is not broken. I’m getting stuff done. I’ve been happy and relaxed. You’re telling me that my relaxation breaks everything else and I am doomed to self-sacrificing misery forever.
Then I cried. It was very like a toddler crying because someone took away a toy.

Once I attained a less over-reactive mind state I realized that perhaps I might still have some issues regarding life balance and making space for the things I want. The last couple of weeks have been pretty much me doing stuff I want to do, all day long. It was lovely, but I am not an island. I am part of a household and as such my wants do not always get to come first. They can’t always come last, which is what I’ve done to myself for months on end and why my inner child had a tantrum this morning, but there needs to be a balance so that our family routines are working for everyone.

I am most productive creatively before noon. I’ve been sleeping away half of my productive morning hours. Everyone in the family depends upon me to get moving and set the tone for the day. That pattern may need to change so that I can sometimes sleep in without disrupting everyone, but we need to start from a working pattern in order to structure change. This means that I’m going to have to start fighting the flow and trying to redirect it instead of just floating along. Sigh. Drifting was so lovely.

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Summer Blogging

Blogging in the summer is hard. I’m not sure why exactly. I used to think it was because I was always busy in the summer. But so far this summer I’ve not been run-around-in-a-panic, million-things-to-do busy. True, I’ve been editing-multiple-hours-per-day busy, but that is different. Somehow the more laid back, kids-at-home-all-day vibe of summer is just less conducive to the percolation of blog entries. Apparently it is very conducive of hyphenated sentences as nouns or adjectives. Yup. I’m making up rules as I write again. Whee.

I’m not feeling particularly stress about the fact that I’m likely to miss blogging some days over the next couple of months. That happens. Also I’m so very pleased with my writing productivity on other projects. When I switch to drafting fiction rather than editing non-fiction I’ll probably have more bloggish thoughts rattling around in the edges of my brain.

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Audit Day at Tayler Corporation

The text on my phone said UTAH DEPT WORK, so I answered it. That was how I discovered that our business had been randomly selected to be audited by the Utah Department of Workforce Services. They wanted to check our finances to ensure that we were paying necessary unemployment insurance on all our employees. The woman on the other end of the line was very pleasant. She introduced herself as Jan and explained the process we’d go through. She even cracked a conversationally-appropriate joke. We set up an appointment for the following week.

I used to live in terror of audits. I feared that the IRS would swoop down on us, tell me that I was doing all of the accounting wrong, and then demand lots of money which we couldn’t afford to pay. My fears were born of my inexperience at accounting. I’d learned it all on-the-job. I’d made huge organizational tangles and then had to untangle them. Those fears only faded after years of annual tax visits with a certified accountant who assured me that my bookkeeping was just fine. It was a measure of my acquired confidence that the word “audit” did not send me into a panic attack.

Jan sent an email with a full list of the things she needed to see for the year 2010: payroll records, w-2s, w-3s, 940 & 941 forms, 1099 forms, income tax returns, a check register, and a general ledger. I scanned the list and knew exactly what each item was, where it was filed, or how I could make my accounting software spit it out for me. Collecting everything would have taken less than an hour, except that the general ledger was 378 pages long and took a while to print.

On the appointed day, Jan arrived at my house. She entered with a pleasant air of competence. I had no doubt that she was fully capable of getting hard-nosed if she needed to be, but she was starting at friendly and hoping to stay there. We sat at my kitchen table. Jan pulled out her computer and began setting up. She apologized because she was wearing a bracelet with a bell on it.

“It looked so cute and pretty when I bought it. I had no idea that the sound was going to drive me crazy.” Jan held up the tiny bell so I could see it. “I’m going to have to get wire cutters and clip it off.”

“We have wire cutters!” announced Gleek, who’d been attracted by the jingling noise. Gleek darted to the garage and fetched the clippers. So I clipped the bell off the bracelet, and Jan gave the bell to Gleek who ran off happily. Jan and I smiled at each other and the real work began.

There was a little awkwardness at first. I knew I needed to be available to answer questions for Jan, but mostly she just needed to look at the papers I provided. I didn’t want to hover, but I couldn’t leave the room. After about 10 minutes I found a good solution and used the time to hand sew some of Link’s scout badges onto his bandoleer. Jan and I chatted a little as she worked. She was interested in Howard’s job as a cartoonist.

“I admire creative people.” Jan said. “I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler.”

Some of our discussions were more to the point. I explained why we pay Travis Walton, that he is a professional artist with his own business and he contracts work from lots of different people. This satisfied her that he was in fact a contractor rather than someone who should be treated as an employee. Several other names came up and I explained who they were and what we had paid them to do. I was honest in my replies. Not only is honesty the best policy, but this was a chance for me to make sure that my definition of “employee” matched the state definition. Jan was never accusatory in her questions, she just needed to sort information appropriately.

“That’s it.” Jan said as she closed her computer. “I’ll write up your report and send you a copy via email. It’ll all be zeros, because you’re good.”

Howard happened to be in the room to hear this announcement. He asked, “Out of curiosity, on a scale of one to ten, how did we do on providing the information you needed?”

“With one being the hardest and ten being the easiest, I’d say you guys were an eleven.” Jan answered with a smile. Then with a little prodding from us she told a couple of stories about difficult cases. She told outlines only, without names or identifying details. She left us with a card and encouraged us to call her if we have any questions about state tax laws. Then she walked out the door less than 45 minutes after she walked in.

The whole experience was interesting and pleasant. It was nice to be reassured that we are, in fact, running our business correctly. However even if we’d been making mistakes, Jan would have been happy to help us sort them out. This is the auditors job: to make sure things are being done properly and, if they aren’t, assist in getting things corrected. An individual auditor may be grouchy, cross, or on a power trip; but their intended purpose is to help, not to punish. I don’t want to be audited, but I’m not afraid anymore. This audit did cost me a few hours of time, but on the whole the process was interesting and pleasant rather than otherwise.

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Deliberate Infliction of Boredom

This week I have decided to force my 13 year old son, Link, to be bored. He is probably the lowest maintenance of my kids. If I stock the freezer with frozen pizza and give him free reign on the video games, he won’t bother me for a week. However this parenting thing is not about figuring out how to get the kids to stop bothering me. It is my job to occasionally force my kids into learning and growing even when what they really want is to be happy and relax. Since summer began, my son has spent 90% of his waking hours attached to various forms of electronic entertainment. I like video games. I think they can be educational. However a healthy person is balanced among many pursuits rather than just one. The trouble is that when Link is detached from electronics, he doesn’t really have anything else to do. He wanders around aimlessly and pesters me to know when he can play a video game again.

A week ago I took Link camping. While we were there, his electronic game habit was assisted by my dad who passed around his iPad and Nintendo DS3. However there were only two devices, lots of cousins, and limited battery life. Link had to go for hours on end with no electronics. At first he sat or wandered aimlessly and I spent some time thinking about what could entertain him. However I was feeling lethargic and I began to be curious. Bored children get creative. They think up stuff to do. This is one of the inherent risks of boredom and why parents spend so much time and money to make sure their kids are entertained. I began to wonder what Link would discover to entertain himself. After wandering aimlessly most of that first day, he began to participate. He helped build a fort. He went on a hike or two. He played cards with cousins. He returned to the electronics as often as possible, but even separate from them he managed to have a good time.

We came back from camping and the old pattern returned full-force. If I want Link to have some non-electronics-related hobbies (and I think he will be a happier person his whole life if he does have some) then I have to limit the electronics time. I have to let him be bored for hours every single day until he starts to get creative about avoiding boredom. It is going to be work both for me and for him, but work is necessary to accomplishment.

To be fair, I’m going to apply the same limitations on the kids and on myself. We could all use a little more boredom and the resultant creativity.

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A Father’s Day Story

“Do I have to?” Whispered Patch to me from his seat next to me on the chapel bench.

“Yes.” I said back.

“I don’t want to.” He pleaded.

“Get up there and sing for your Dad.” I answered.

Howard probably didn’t much care whether his son got up to sing with the other kids at church, but I cared. I’d failed in the “planning for Father’s Day” department and figured the least I could do was nudge Patch into singing.

Patch put down his notepad and pencil, then trudged his way up to the front and into the back row of kids. He stood there scowling as hard as he could. Next to me on the bench, Howard started shaking with suppressed laughter. The music started and fifty young voices began a sweet song about how important fathers are. Patch glowered silently. He looked over at Howard and I to make sure we could see his glower. I do not know what expression Howard was wearing, but the moment Patch caught sight of it, the glower shattered as a giggling smile broke through. Patch valiantly attempted to formulate a new scowl, but any time he looked at his dad a smile would escape suppression. Howard, for his part, leaned and peeked around the backs of the folks in front of us so that Patch could always see his face. Also, I’m pretty sure he pulled out his full arsenal of silly faces. It didn’t take long for Patch to give up scowling.

When all the other kids were done singing and shuffled off to their seats, Patch came back to us smiling and hugged Howard for a long time.

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New Projects and Old Fatigue

Last night three ideas, which I have had kicking around in my head for years, stood up and told that they belong together. Obviously. Sure enough they fit together quite beautifully. So now I have the setting, characters, and themes for a book. I can’t start writing it yet, because the book has the barest wisps of what may eventually be a plot. This means that part of me wants to drop everything else and study plotting so that I can write this shiny new book. I can’t drop everything else. This shiny new idea has to get in line. It has to wait for available creative time after I finish this last revision on Stepping Stones. It also needs to wait until after the inevitable influx of creative tasks which accompany opening pre-orders. I’ll be called upon to design post cards, prints, and business cards. These things will require me to blow the dust off of my graphic design books. After all that, I will be able to tackle plotting.

Even at the same time that part of my brain is burbling with excitement about projects, another part is very tired and would really like to go watch some TV now.

“Must we learn new things?” It asks. “I’m tired of learning new things.”

“Yay, new things!” shouts the other part.

The co-existence of these two mind states defies logic, and yet here I am.

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Musing upon Someday

Yesterday I was in the middle of the second hour of my writing time (with one more hour before I would let myself call it quits for the day), when I laughed out loud at what I was reading. My current writing project is a final tweak-things-into-place revision of Stepping Stones before I submit the thing to a contest and send out the next round of queries. What I read was an essay I wrote in the fall of 2007 in which I lamented how so many of my friends were able to spend hours per day on writing. They could make writing take a central position in their lives and at that time I could not. I found peace with my frustration by talking about how things have times and seasons in our lives, and that someday I would have time to devote hours per day to writing tasks. I have been dwelling in “someday” unawares.

I sat back and thought about it. I am actually dwelling in many “somedays” this week. I’m not chasing toddlers. My kids have been getting up and doing their chores without much argument. We’ve got a pre-order opening soon. These are all good things that in days past I looked forward to with anticipation. I still have somedays ahead of me, of course. It is good for me to be dreaming of something better, so long as the dreams propel me forward without making me bitter about today. I’m also aware that this week is a bubble of time in which most of my things are going well. Two weeks from now I doubt I’ll have time to write for 2-3 hours in a day. By August I certainly won’t have that time. Then I’ll once again dream that someday I’ll have more time to write. Somewhere beyond that, I’ll once again discover myself dwelling in someday. Times and seasons really do make a difference in my life.

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More Summery Thoughts

Kiki and Howard are the ones working hard this week. Kiki is finishing up her Driver’s Ed class which includes two hours of range time and three hours of class time every day. On top of that she is taking an independent study science class and she is working on art projects. Howard is trying to work high-speed to build the buffer up in advance of the coming conventions. He wants to get 2-3 weeks of comics done for each week between now and August 1st. I’m working too. The majority of my hours are filled with necessary things. I run the business, manage the house, write, and care for the kids. Very little of my time is wasted, yet I feel like I’m moseying along. This week I’m completely lacking the must-go-fast vibe. I sometimes feel guilty about that when Howard comes home in a cloud of didn’t-work-hard-enough-today despair. Yet I think my relaxation is necessary in the short term. I need a few weeks of mosey so that when must-go-fast returns I will have the strength to do it. I expect it to return full-force one week from Monday when we open pre-orders.

Some of the moseying-along feeling in our house may be due to the fact that we exchanged Gleek for one of my nephews. She is having a rural-Idaho adventure at my brother’s house, while Nephew is here in suburbia with us. Nephew’s presence is new and interesting to my boys. He falls between them in age and the three of them play together for hours without conflict. My house has been quiet all week long, except for those times when the boys play a video game or watch a movie. Even when they are not quiet, it is not the sort of noisy which requires any intervention. It is lovely and I miss my Gleek. I miss her a lot. She called me today because she was sad and not feeling well. We only talked for a couple of minutes. It was enough for me to tell that mostly she’s having a great time. There are chickens! and Bunnies! and Cats! and dirt for digging! It made me realize how much my girl would love to live in a place with bigger boundaries and more independence. I’ll have to provide more of those for her when she gets back.

We need to figure out a way for Howard to have a lull. He needs a month when he can just work calmly and happily without feeling rushed. I’ve been scrambling to try to arrange it for almost two years now, it hasn’t quite happened yet. I have my eye on fall. He gets to go to a writer’s retreat then, and I really hope that it will be rejuvenating for him. I hope that my writing can begin to earn income, so that he doesn’t have to push so hard all the time.

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Summer Afternoons

Summer afternoons exist outside of measurement by clocks. They commence sometime around lunch and continue to exist until dinner. The surest way for me to miss a scheduled appointment is to place it in the middle of a summer afternoon. I would feel bad about this, except somehow it is hard to dredge up a proper load of guilt and anxiety when the kids are out back running through the sprinklers while eating popsicles.

Unfortunately summer evenings are less timeless. Clocks tick and chime to remind me that it is now 9 pm and many of the things I intended to accomplish remain incomplete. In the evening, when the warm summer sun has vanished, I calculate and plan. I revise lists. I promise myself to work harder because the tasks really do need to get done. But since it is already 9 pm, it really is too late to get started. Bedtime is near and I should unwind for sleep. The lists are made and I’ll get right on them in the morning.

Summer morning defies alarm clocks. We are free from the relentless march of school schedules and I find myself sleeping until I am done. Being rested is good, but when I finally get moving on the day I have a mere two or three hours before I find myself once again in the midst of a summer afternoon. So I slide through days or a week, attempting to be focused and not quite managing it. At the moment this is fine. I’m in a business lull which was extended because we delayed the opening of pre-orders by two weeks. I have to trust that the necessary energy and drive will be available when I need it again. For now, I need to hand out another round of popsicles and spend some time outdoors.

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