Summer@Home: What I Learned, Part 2

In addition to what I learned about stuff ... what I could do without, and what I really missed ... I learned a lot about relationships and the people around me.

PART 2: What I learned about relationships

I learned that help can come from places you don't expect. 
There's a clique in my neighborhood. I'm not really "in" it, but I'm not exactly "out" of it either. My kids don't go to the neighborhood elementary school. They don't play tackle football at the local park, which seems to be the thing to do. None of them goes to my church. So I've always kind of skirted the edge of this group of women who have a lot in common with each other, but not necessarily with me. 

But that doesn't mean that when I needed them, they didn't come through. One gave Sandy countless rides to and from football practices. Several ran to the grocery store or would even text me from the store: "I'm here! Do you need anything?" They brought meals and returned books to the library.

One gentleman in the neighborhood — the father of a friend of mine — drove Joshua and Jordan to school for two weeks while Herb was traveling. My across-the-street neighbor and I got to know each other a lot better, and we even did a Bible Study together this summer.

I learned that my neighbors have got my back just because that's who they are. I hope I get to return the favor.

Summer@Home: What I Learned

People keep asking me, "When are you going to write the 'what I learned' blog?" It actually started before the driving restriction ended. They seem eager to hear how I was changed by seven months not being able to drive.

I actually started writing this post a couple of months ago. But I got a ways into it and realized something:

I won't know what I've learned until it's tested.

When you are in school, you can sit in a classroom every day, read the assignments, do the homework. But until the test comes, you can't really separate what you've learned from what you've merely been present for.

It's the same way with my seven months of no driving. I could tell you about the experiences I had while not driving. But I can't really write about what I learned — how it changed me — until I'm back in the driving world. Until it's tested.

There's a part of me that thinks that two weeks in is still too early. I don't yet know what will migrate from short-term to long-term memory. But I'm tired of people asking, so here goes.

I'm not going to explain all of them at once because this would turn into more of a dissertation instead of a blog. So I'm splitting my lessons learned into two groups:
1. My relationship with stuff.
2. My relationships with people.

PART 1: My relationship with stuff.

Summer@Home: How NOT to Run Fast

First of all, I apologize for wimping out. I've stopped counting the days of my Summer@Home because it just served to remind me that there have been too many days between posts.

Which means that I'm not writing enough.

Which means that I'm frittering the summer away this year just like every other frickin' year.

I don't need the guilt, so I stopped counting.

Sue me.

Anyway, one thing I have been doing this summer is attempting to get back into shape. After my little "episodes" got under control and I got my sea legs again, I decided to start running. So, not wanting to take it slowly or anything, I signed up for the Peachtree Road Race.

Life's Little Interruptions

Working from home can be interesting. Particularly on days when the kids are home from school. My husband was supposed to be home from a business trip last night and take off today, but the trip was unexpectedly extended. I didn't send the kids to a friend's house for babysitting because Joshua was too tired this morning.

What now?

Well, deadlines don't change because of business trips and tired kids, so I press on. I thought I would keep a list today of the little things that interrupted my work day. I've never done this before, so it could be interesting. Or boring. Or funny. Or depressing. But you never know until you start.

Ready.
Set.
Go!

Barriers to Entry

If you've ever studied business, you know that one of the things to consider when evaluating a business opportunity is the presence of barriers to entry. The term refers to what possible obstacles stand in the way of the business getting off the ground or gaining market share.

• Is the industry heavily regulated? Big barrier to entry.
• Is there a large financial investment necessary up front for equipment, land, people, etc.? Another barrier to entry.
• Are there already several established, dominant players in the market who could squash you like a bug? (Think John Deere, Microsoft, or Coke.) Yep...another barrier to entry.
• Or do you just need a lawnmower, edger, and a few flyers to put in people's mailboxes? Low barrier to entry.

Some of the barriers to entry aren't physical or financial ... they're mental. And they can be the biggest, hardest ones to overcome.  Those voices inside your head can be pretty loud.

And for me, I can be my own barrier to entry. You see, I'm a list maker. I can procrastinate just about anything away and blame it on a to do list of things that "had" to be done first, before I could even start.

A friend of mine (I use the term loosely ... we've met twice), Jon Acuff, is inspiring me to get over waiting for the perfect moment and simply jump at the first moment. This moment. Because this moment will never come again. And the perfect moment may never come at all.

Sunday Confessional: I'm an Adult Underachiever

"Hi. My name is Marybeth. And I'm an adult underachiever."

"Hi, Marybeth." (You know you thought it, even if you didn't say it.)

If you're reading this, there's a good chance that you know me personally. That's because right now, there aren't a lot of people who read my blog who don't share my last name or DNA.

So if you know me ... if you know my life ... you probably have no idea why I see myself as an underachiever.
 
I'm a wife and mother of four boys. (Many people probably think I should stop there. I truly believe there is a special place in heaven for the mother of boys. It is quiet and clean and full of breakable things and scented candles.)

From Finishing to Halftime

When I started my blog, I called it "Finish Well" because I realized that I'm a great starter and a sucky finisher. I had a gillion unfinished projects and books, and I thought that talking about them publicly might shame me into completing a few.

What I didn't even really consider is why I felt compelled to do this. Was it really just a pile of unfinished books and a cross-stitch Christmas stocking that's been eight years in the making? Or was there something more?

Then I realized it. I'm going through my midlife crisis.

I didn't recognize it, because it didn't look anything like what I thought a midlife crisis should look like.

I didn't buy a little red Corvette. (Though I'll take one if anyone's offering).

I didn't have an affair. (I'm sure Herb is glad to hear that one.)

I didn't have a nervous breakdown. (I have a little, tiny one every day, so no need to go overboard.)

My kids weren't all grown and out of the house. (That's about 12 more years away.)

But apparently the phenomenon isn't all that unusual. After all, Time magazine did a cover article about it in 2005.  (Click here to read it.)

My Facebook Fast

I picked a sucky month to abstain from Facebook.

A really, really, REALLY sucky month.

The Olympics are going on, and I can't post about my very favorite Olympics moment of all time: when Keri Strugg's coach Bela Karolyi carried her to the podium after she tore two ligaments in her leg during her gold medal vault. (So instead, I'll post it here. Ha! Victory.) 

And I wasn't able to check in on Chick-fil-a Appreciation Day. (I was at the location at The Avenues in Cumming with Sandy around 8:30 p.m. in case you care.)

Ur Gramr Sux

OK, so this has nothing to do with Finishing anything, but I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal about how we are becoming a nation of grammatical slackers. Maybe it's just because I was an English minor...maybe it's just because I planned to be a journalist when I grew up...or maybe it's just because my parents were a teacher (Mom) and a journalist then lawyer (Dad), but I grew up not only knowing good grammar, but also knowing the importance of it.

Let me say this once and loudly: Most prospective employers, particularly of professional or service-oriented businesses, will not take you seriously if you cannot write a respectful, grammatically correct cover letter and resume. 

Or at least that's what I used to think.

Reclaiming My Mornings

I'm on vacation right now. I'm spending three weeks of my summer in Maine visiting my husband's home state and many of his relatives. It's kind of a last hurrah because his parents are selling their house here to move closer to us.

Side note: Apparently, Maine ... as a state ... has a short attention span. On the day before the first day of summer, it was about 75 degrees. NOT summer, by my Hotlanta standards. Then, on June 20 ... the first day of summer ... whoa, Nelly! It was 91 degrees. We had three ... count 'em THREE ... days of 80+ degree weather before spring returned and I put on sweaters again. My father-in-law tells the story of a visitor to his medical office who asked a nurse what "Mainers" do in the summer. Her response: "Well, if it happens on a weekend, we have a picnic." Our summer long-weekend happened on a Wednesday - Friday, but we managed to have a picnic anyway.

OK. Back to my purpose in writing this.

I may be on vacation, but I am already dreaming of getting home. Why? Because I'm going to make some fundamental changes about how I spend my time.

You may be asking, "Why, pray tell, would you do that?"

Well, thank you for asking. Because I feel guilty as all get-out. I just finished a teeny-tiny Kindle book called What the Most Successful People Do Before Breakfast. It took all of about two hours to read ... and frankly would have taken less than that if I'd read it in a single sitting ... but it's got my mind churning about all of the time I waste. In a day. In a week. In a year. In the last 40 years.