Welcome to work camp

I think I may not be the only woman who believes she is working too hard.

Every day when the howling dog wakes me up just before 6 a.m. to go out, I think I can't make it through another day of "work camp."

I get up and walk the dog, make the kids lunches, feed the dog, make coffee, wake the kids, nag the kids, make the kids' breakfast, pack their bags, walk them to school, walk home and work for eight hours - with a workout in the middle - then pick up kids, walk them home, help with homework, make dinner, do the dishes, nag the kids, read them a story, put them to bed then work an extra two hours before taking a break to sleep. Oh and I run a second business that I love, so I squeeze that in sometimes.

So what's my problem, you ask?

Well, I could blame my husband, but he seems to be working too., and unable to take my call at the moment.

I think I lack some form of escape. I check my hobbies - shopping and drinking wine - but those don't technically count. So how does one escape?

Vacation is a temporary thing, and I spend my entire vacation worrying about the end of the vacation, so that isn't a real escape. I watch TV shows and those are fun, but again, over before I even get started. How can I/we truly get a break that will be enough?

I think maybe I need to pay more attention and live in the moment. I think this is a skill to develop, and it requires focus....which paradoxically, takes away from the moment.

Then I realize that I need to just put it into perspective. I signed up for all this and I authored the script. I chose two kids, two pets, a renovation, a side job, my own business. I even choose to work out every second day. Well it's not really a choice, but a fear of what will happen if I don't.

I own this schedule. It's my crazy life to manage, and it seems I'll be doing that for the foreseeable future. I can get help and share the load if I speak up, so that might be a route. In the meantime, I need to embrace the moving parts and relish the fact I am needed, and that I keep things moving. Maybe that's what life's all about?

No wait, that's still shopping and wine!

Summer of (no) regret

As I sit looking out my Victorian window in Chester, watching the tanned vacationers pass by in their bathing suits, I wish I could be on vacation for more than a few days. I'm inside working, calling media, writing strategic plans, pitching business. This is good for an entrepreneur at Dunn & Associates Communications and Public Affairs. Make hay while the sun shines and all that. But oh the sun is shining a lot this summer, and it's hard to keep my eyes on the prize.

But what I also realize is that those vacationers are watching the clock and wishing the time wouldn't pass so quickly. Their freedom is limited so they're vacationing with gusto, drinking cocktails, swimming, sailing and looking uber-relaxed....relaxing as hard as they can. 

I suspect they're looking back in at me and wishing they could live here and have a job that would enable them to be in a vacation environment like Chester all the time.

Now the number of vacationers is dwindling. They've all gone back to reality, their kids are set for school, their paperwork is still waiting on their desks. But I'm still here. Still working, but fitting in little patches of vacation where I can - a swim after work, dropping my daughter at sailing lessons, a moonlit walk with the dog along the waterfront. Little breaks with beautiful scenery.

In the long run I win. I get to live in Nova Scotia and own my business with a flexible work schedule. I get to keep what the vacationers experience in a temporary, seasonal way. I don't have to wish for something I don't have. My vacation is what I make it. Now, it must be cocktail time....

Blue jobs

This morning I was commuting to work accompanied by my father and husband, wearing white pants. I should have known at something would go wrong just because I was wearing white pants. Innocently, I accepted a travel mug of coffee. Not a chic travel mug, but a brown plastic Tim Horton's model with a giant base that will not fit any cup holder. You see where this is going...

By about kilometre three, I picked up the mug to sip my coffee elegantly and the coffee slopped out the top and all over my white pant leg. Argh! I'm heading to client meeting, but I figured, they won't care, they probably drink coffee. And the meeting was at a coffee shop too so this was all part of the scene.

The coffee was just drying into a dull brown patches when I heard a whirring noise like when you drive off the road and over the washboard pavement patch designed to wake you up. But I was awake and not veering off the road at that particular point. I looked at my dad, flat tire. S&^%!

We pulled off and my husband and father jumped into action - like they'd been waiting for something like this to happen. Out came the spare, the wrench, the bolts they moved around, read the manual, broke off a portion of the frame by lifting the car in the wrong place. I stood and phoned people, cancelled my meeting, sent e-mails and worried about the cars zooming by. Don't fall into the road Dad, I thought.

Didn't think that about my husband. He doesn't fall or stumble much. I checked.

There's a point to this story. I got to thinking, what would I have done if I were by myself? The answer was "call CAA." My only recourse was to call another man to change the tire and save the day. I realize changing a tire is a job I do not want to do or learn. Much like plumbing, electrical work and changing the seal on a toilet. These are jobs best done by men, in my view. Blue jobs.

But what does this say about Holly Dunn the feminist and 21st century wonder woman? And what hope do women have for equality and power, with people like me segmenting jobs like I do?

I like to think I'm increasing my power by focusing on the jobs I like and those I do well. I can multi-task like an eight-armed juggler. I have a mastery of the English language, and I even enjoy mowing the lawn. I have handled garbage and compost....and do so with increasing regularity.

Do I need to learn to change a tire? Maybe. But in the meantime, I share the load and leave the male species to focus on what it does best, moving heavy objects, changing occasional tires, dissembling and reassembling engines and, of course, listening to crickets....

A crisis worth having

I remember my parents going through mid-life crises and thinking it was all just talk. My father - a social worker - opened a deli and briefly became a real estate agent before returning to social work. My mother completed her bachelor's, and then master's, degree in fine arts. They drove across the continent and stopped eating meat. Nothing drastic, but lots of change. As their kid, I just thought it was mildly interesting, but mostly just something they did as distraction during the brief moments they weren't catering to my every need.

Fortunately, I'm immune to such crises. I have my life completely together and routine is my middle name. Well, I thought so...until I turned 40 myself.  The day I turned 40, my eyesight went down the tubes. I swear it was fine and I could read small print books in dim light until the last day of my 40th year, when I was still 39. Bam! I turned 40 and the letters started swimming like ants crawling on the page. But that's not all...

In my 41st year, I stopped accepting criticism from outside sources. Unless it was legitimate work related critique, I realized that my approach was always valid. I do things for a reason, and those who don't agree just don't understand my reasoning, which is always sound. I think I care less what other people think and am willing to argue for my decisions and actions, because they're based on 40+ years' of experience and "wisdom". Who knew?

Then I became an entrepreneur. I left my salaried job and decided to join my husband to build our own PR agency (www.dunnassociates.ca). Benefits be damned! They're so predictable and stable. I don't need such structure, thought I.

Then we turned to cosmetic changes. The Fall before I turned 41, I cut my hair short. Not just short, but REALLY short. "What do I have to lose," I thought. "I'm already married, it's not like I'm trolling for men....and EVERYONE has long hair....and mine isn't spectacular anyway." So now I'm 41 and shorn, and I look around and notice a LOT of other "middle aged" women are also sporting the same short and sassy look I pursued for its unique-ness. Good decision? The jury is still out on that one, but they say a change is as good as a rest.

I always wanted a dog. But this year that thought became obsession. Starting with some casual research, I quickly reserved a puppy from an upcoming litter and convinced my husband Michael that a dog was an important part of our new life. It took a full Powerpoint presentation, with video, to convert him.

And I didn't just want any dog. I needed a dog we could only get in Ontario. So we followed our new puppy online, and booked a flight. Four days later, two plane rides and six hours in the car and we had our cocker spaniel pup Gus. Now I get up every morning at 5:30 a.m. and walk continuously around the block to point of dizziness. I'm not sure who's training whom, but we have the dog, complete with bags of poop in the back yard and bags of chewed flip flops in the garbage can. Mission accomplished!

So, did I have a mid-life crisis? There was no starting point, or obvious "launch" for the crisis, but it seems it has been happening for several years. Has it been bad? Not at all. A crisis? Hardly. More like a quest for change, improvement, something new and something I've never had. And mostly, the chance to be my own boss and take the driver's seat. I would recommend this type of crisis to anyone.

The ups and downs of being Nova Scotian

There are times when being Nova Scotian can be frustrating, and then there are days when I can hardly contain my excitement. Fortunately, today is one of the exciting days. After two weeks of facilitating consultations on the provincial parks system, I'm reminded this province is full of potential. Not only are we lousy with natural beauty, but we're surrounded by brilliant minds.

In touring the province, I connected with people who can see the future. These were people who visit the outdoors regularly, hike the trails, swim at the beaches and take their kids out to explore nature. They recognize the healthy benefits of peace, connection with trees and general exploration. And they are passionate about this Ocean Playground we all share. The outpouring of ideas and optimism was refreshing and full of promise.

There were pessimists too....and many of them....and they were vocal and spoke in lengthy tirades. There was the sense these people were beaten down from a lifetime of disappointment.  They might have been optimistic and cheerful too at some stage, but mediocrity and not quite getting what they wanted may have turned their ambitions sour.  This pessimism is rampant in Nova Scotia, and might just be getting in the way of success. Their glasses are half empty, and the challenge is to change how the glass is framed to fill it half way instead. Negative thinking can be frustrating to the optimists, but it's part of who we are as a province. My only hope is to do my part to switch the focus.

But today I met with two young brilliant young women with fabulous education, positive attitudes and fresh ideas. They are having trouble connecting with meaningful work, yet they offer boundless workforce potential. The chance to brainstorm about their experiences and how to position themselves in the market was truly exciting. There was so much opportunity, and I would hire them myself given the chance.  I can only hope they will connect with employers who feel the same way.

I adore this province and I intend to be here for the rest of my days. As an entrepreneur, this seems a great place to succeed, working with people I actually like, and having fun while I do it. I'm optimistic, and I raise my half full glass to the other optimists. Let's do our bit to spread the word and fill more glasses as we go.