May 16thThe message in the media says…
TV commercial: a professional woman out in the rain, jumping from umbrella to umbrella (all held by guys that look like businessmen) on her way to her overpriced car, which she arrives at dry. Am I the only one who cringes at the sexism in this simple commercial, that the only way I (as a woman) am going to afford that car is by getting a little help from well-off men? Do people even bother to think about the hidden messages of their commercials when they write them? Whenever I see this commercial I am reminded that the last thing I ever want to do is even consider buying that brand of car. If they think I can’t “make it” as a woman without using men, then eff them and their stupid little car. We live in a different era, folks. Don’t let your sexism or other hidden prejudices cause you to “abercrombie” your client. Don’t kill your client with exclusionary messages. Today, “exclusive” can actually be viewed as exclusionary, and is only attractive to people who don’t matter.
by Ginny OtteMay 15th“Hipness is not a state of mind, it’s a fact of life.”–Cannonball Adderley
One of my all-time favorite poems:
I stay cool, and dig all jive,
That’s the way I stay alive.
My motto,
as I live and learn,
is
Dig and be dug
In return.
(Langston Hughes, “Motto.”)
by Ginny OtteMay 14thYour thought of the day
With all of the other news we’ve had recently, you may have missed a pair of quotes that I would like to point out to you:
“Walking around with hate or misery in your heart is a choice, and we can all find our way to happiness.”– Carmen Blandin Tarleton, who was severely burned over 80% of her body in an industrial lye attack by her ex husband in 2007.
“I get to feel my mother’s skin again. I get to see my mother’s freckles. And through you, I get to see my mother live on.”–Marinda ‘Sunflower’ Righter, daughter of Cheryl Denelli Righter, whose death the day before Valentine’s Day 2013 gave life and hope to five people. After saying this, she kissed and caressed the new face of Carmen Blandin Tarleton.
…remember: walking around with hate or misery in your heart is a choice. And, you CAN choose to not carry that burden. Just ask Carmen.
by Ginny OtteMay 14thA rant about LinkedIn. brace yourself.
Perhaps I do not understand LinkedIn. I have been getting recommendations from people I have worked with and so know the value/quality/success of my work firsthand, and can vouch for it. To those folks: thanks. Compliments not asked for always mean a great deal to me. However the overwhelming recommendations from people are from LinkedIn folks who have never actually worked with me firsthand, and in some cases don’t even know me in real life.
Now I am getting requests for recommendations from people that I do not even know, including a voice coach I have never heard of. Dude, I have never used a voice coach. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Anyone who knows me or has heard me, knows this. My “big Radio Voice” comes from speech therapy provided at a hospital after a massive attack of multiple sclerosis 22 years ago. You’re not that therapist.
Way to go people, you’ve take a professional platform and turned it into Facebook for old guys wearing suits. You may as well ask me to play candy crush.
by Ginny OtteMay 14than idea for scrap fabric…lots and lots of scrap fabric.
No knitting needles? No problem.
by Ginny OtteMay 13thStraighten up and fly right!
One of my new clients, who works to clear IRS liens from your credit score, was telling me about how credit scores can affect your ability to secure employment…and not just employment at secure facilities. How about “just a job selling shoes?” Between follicle hair testing to be a cashier at a grocery store, to credit checks in order to secure a job at a department store, you better straighten up and fly right if you want to get anywhere in today’s world.
by Ginny Otte
May 12thMother’s Day
Looking for a mother’s Day card was difficult this year.
Mom is 82 and frail; these past couple of years I have approached each holiday differently; wanting to hang on to each one, wanting to remember each one as long as I can. Each holiday becomes more meaningful, the older you get.
This past winter I “harassed” her, keeping her busy by bringing yarn and crochet hooks with each visit, asking her to help me crochet granny squares. I regaled my Facebook readers in the weekly visits, with the grumpy Mom comments which were filled with love, the photos of each square she started, and the actual afghan; which now graces my bed. (and just as promised to her each night as I climb under that afghan, I say “good night, Momma,” and will do so every night of my life.)
Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. When I went shopping for Mother’s Day, I didn’t want to get her flowers, as she does not seem to value these kinds of gifts any more; she doesn’t care too much for things that smell pretty, and doesn’t put much import in frilly things. But, she does sit in a wheelchair nearly every waking moment. Recently, I bought a car gel seat for my own comfort and when I used it, I immediately realized that this is far superior to any orthopedic or medical chair cushion she had ever used, so I bought another for her, and this is her present this year. This was a no-brainer.
What was hard, was the card.
The card.
In the card aisle was card after card for Moms that have very young children; for Moms who have young adults as children; for Moms who still live out and about in the world and not in assisted living, in a wheelchair, spending her days in the rec room and wondering if today was the day her daughter was going to visit.
They don’t make a card for that.
They don’t make a card for a daughter to give a mother, when that daughter secretly fears each holiday must be cherished and remembered because it could the last one.
They simply don’t make a card for that.
How can you fit a lifetime of thanks into a card?
How can you say “thank you, Mom,” for being both a mother and a father, after my father died when I was 17?
How can you say “thank you, Mom,” for caring for me when multiple sclerosis took nearly everything I had away from me? For potty training my youngest child when I was too sick to, for taking my three kids to school, and taking me to physical therapy, and making sure I was healthy enough to leave the nest a second time after my disability?
How can you possibly squeeze all that into a Hallmark card?
More importantly, how can you leave the card aisle without sobbing like an idiot when your mother is 82 and frail?
The simple answer is: You can’t.
All you can do is find the best card you can. You sign it, and you give it to the woman that gave you life…and so much more.
Happy Mother’s Day.
by Ginny OtteMay 4thLife and death in the backyard
Abandoned robin nest on my porch.
May 1st(No Title)
by Ginny Otte
Apr 30thDo you “like” it?
Your “likes” can tell a lot more about you than you might think.
by Ginny Otte