Coming Out of the Blog Closet

In late October, I started blogging as an experiment. I waited until early November before letting a few folks (like my mama) know about it. Now, it’s time to tell some more friends that cheryl can… is open for business. Yes, you heard it right. After almost 19 years of cheryl v.2.0, it’s time for v. 3.0 to appear. You can get the back story by scanning So What? Why Now? and Cheryl Can…

Although I’ll continue my “day job” in 2011, I’m looking for some interesting projects that smart people need help doing. Need background research done on an individual or organization? I can help. Want to build better relationships with your clients? I’ve had a front-row seat watching a master connector. A friend at lunch today said, “I think you’re talking about linking and leveraging,” and that’s a better way to describe at least part of what I want to do rather than my standard response, “I do stuff.” And, yes, I still dream of a day where I can spend much of my time teaching people how to write thank you notes and letters of recommendation—the things that make up Good Home Training, at least in my world.

Over the past six months, I’ve talked to lots of people, read a gazillion articles, filled out official paperwork, and obsessed over details that nobody but me will ever care about. I’m sure none of this will cease in the coming days; I’m just broadening my circle and giving my advisory council a brief break. I won’t (or at least I don’t think I will) bombard my Facebook friends or the few Twitter followers with links every time I post, but one mention on New Year’s Eve seems a low-key way to start getting the word out. I post a couple of times a week on whatever topic strikes my fancy at that moment.

I’m famous for weighing in on challenges that others are facing, usually prefaced with “This advice and $3 will get you a cup of coffee in most places,” so it’s your turn now. What’s the best advice you ever got (or gave) about starting something new? Operators are standing by.

Aunt C's Holiday Games

It must be my event planner tendencies, but I think family Christmas celebrations need to involve some type of hands-on activity beyond eating and tearing wrapping paper.  It’s not a forced march of “Synchronize your watches; we’re playing a game at 4:00p,” but, more often than not, everybody in the house eventually wanders toward the action, and, before you know it, we’re laughing, arguing over the rules, and calling out the cheaters (you’d be surprised at who tries).

My family doesn’t regularly gather around the Scrabble board or play Trivial Pursuit with mad skillz.  If you do, you don’t need this post, so stop reading and come back another day. But, if your family, like mine, has a broad range of ages and interests, then maybe this will spark some ideas for after the presents are opened, the dinner dishes are washed, and you’ve already seen A Charlie Brown Christmas five times this year.

Go simple. Good Baptist girl, I don’t have extensive experience with Hearts, Spades or poker—too many rule permutations—but Phase 10 or Uno brings out the competitive spirit in just about anybody.  Think your grandmother won’t throw down a Skip card?  Oh, yes, she will, and she’ll smile while she’s doing it.  You were never sure where your killer instinct came from; now you know. 

Find something that everybody can play. Yes, you might have to tweak the rules, but when the oldest niece and nephew were young, they started the timer, rolled dice, or partnered with one of the grown-ups. They’re full participants and there’s a great-niece that I hope to put in this year’s rotation.

I took the Northern niece and nephews to the local Wal-Mart in Fordyce (population 4,900) this weekend and they chose Fact or Crap (catchy name, huh?). I was impressed by the way they determined whether it would work for everybody in the house.  SongBurst remains one of my all-time faves—my singing is awful; just ask anybody who knew me in college—but my sister-in-law and I team up and think Vegas is missing out by not calling.  We’re especially proficient with any disco tune.

Listen. Last year, Table Topics triggered stories and dreams I hadn’t heard, even though we’re a family of “sharers.”  Years ago during Scattergories, some topic prompted my grandmother to tell us about living in a boxcar for six weeks after their family farm in the Arkansas Delta was flooded, a story even my mom didn’t know.  During another game, we learned my mother-in-law had dated Don’s dad (Beverly and David’s, too) for only six weeks (!) before she married him.

Be creative.  So, games just won’t work for your family?  Then try something else.  We’ve decorated cookies; refrigerated dough and canned icing work fine with some simple cookie cutters and lots of sprinkles.  Gingerbread kits don’t require any advance prep either and even tweens and teens (and grandparents) end up posing proudly by their creations.  Last year’s limo ride for a night-time tour of the DC monuments isn’t something that we’ll do regularly, but it was a big hit and didn’t cost any more than taking 10 people out for a moderately priced dinner.

I love all things technology about as much as anyone in my generation can, but this is just a gentle reminder that old-school, “high touch” activities can yield some amazing results. Got any special activities that are your family traditions?  Please share with the class.

The Lessons of the Tacky Christmas Cards

I look forward to opening the mail these days since it’s the time o’ holiday cards. I usually start smiling even before I open the card. I guess which ones will have a photo, who will write a family newsletter (I know advice columns say, “Don’t!” but I like them and have been known to write a few myself), which greetings will be funny, which will be serious. And then I put them in a basket (well, they’re currently stacked on the island) and look at them again after the holidays are over. Yes, I save some of the photo cards because it’s fun to see how the “kids of my heart” have changed over the years.

This year, I’m depending on the kindness of family and friends to understand why I’m not reciprocating. But it won’t come as a surprise that I’ve spent some time thinking about the holiday card tradition that we began in 1992. Because I can rationalize just about anything, I’ve decided that the tacky Christmas card legacy taught me some life lessons that will transfer into future engagements with clients.

Be inclusive. Our first photo can only be viewed as a moment of serendipity (or insanity). Celebrating our first anniversary in the Poconos (now, you understand where at least part of “tacky” comes into play), we intended to take a photo somewhere on the grounds of the resort (with BOTH of us involved), but, after Don saw this print, no other option would do. We only bought 25 cards, thinking we'd send them to a select group of family/friends who would appreciate the quirky sense of humor. What we didn't consider was our friends talked to each other; then the phone calls began, “You don’t think I have a sense of humor?” Our entire list got the photo card, no matter the theme, every year after.

Without really thinking, I used the same process announcing this blog, but, post-January 1, I’m putting it on my FB page, sending emails to a broader circle of friends and colleagues, and holding my breath that my page views will increase. There will be some (I’m sure there already are) who wonder why in the world I’m doing a blog. I wonder that myself, but, just maybe, some really interesting projects will come from somebody I never even thought about as a possibility.

Join forces. The card from WKU’s 1999 Homecoming is perhaps my favorite and signaled a turning point in my attitude about the holiday card project. Big Red (the mascot who looks like Schmoo) was scheduled, but the cheerleading squad surrounded us spontaneously—yes, the game was in process and there were 4,000 fans thinking, “Who ARE those people and why are they on the sidelines?”  

I gave up on the argument that people sent photos of their kids, not themselves (!) and we became the dynamic duo, dividing duties based on our strengths. Don was the creative director and logistics planner. I handled the operations/admin side in ordering cards and prepping labels. We tag-teamed the licking and sticking. That’s what I hope happens in at least some of my new projects. I like working with trusted colleagues who do what they say when they say.

 Laugh at yourself. I’m not crazy about looking foolish. But a trip to the Magic Kingdom and a WKU alum who worked in Disney PR could only mean that “another Goofy card from the Collins’s” was our 2003 caption. Instead of the normal gaggle of five-year-olds standing in line for a photo op with the big dog, there we were. The Santa hats were an anomaly in March, but it provided for some smiles from our munchkin compatriots and their parents.

Nothing bad has ever happened when I laughed at myself. I’m sure it’s going to be a necessary tool in my 2011 kit.

Look for opportunities, but always have Plan B. The World Series in St. Louis (2004) card was pure chance—no Santa hats, we asked three strangers to stand with us, a lady we didn’t know snapped the pic, and the Cards lost the series in four (ouch!). The Monkey Business card (2009) was total Plan B when our hot air balloon ride was canceled (twice!). For years, we’ve had a Cheesehead idea in reserve. The hats are still in my possession if you want to borrow them.

cheryl v. 3.0 will be WIDE open to opportunity, but there’s an emergency fund ready in the wings.

The tacky Christmas card tradition may not be your style, but it gives me great memories and, most importantly, impetus for moving forward.  Happy holidays!

Attaboy, Attagirl, Attaway

In the South, you’ll often hear “Attaboy” when someone wants to give encouragement or express admiration (think Friday night football in a small town and you’ll instantly get it). Since I came of age in the ‘70s, I soon adopted “Attagirl” as a companion phrase (yes, I know that “girl” isn’t used by true feminists, but “Attawoman” just doesn’t have the same zing).

“Attaway” is a non sequitur but I can’t resist including it in this “atta” posting. Long before I knew anybody named Attaway (hey, William and Charlotte!), “attaway” was a watchword in my family. My daddy (pronounced so that three syllables are involved) moved me from apartment to apartment to apartment since I couldn’t afford movers. The seminal “attaway” moment came while we were trying to take a bookcase up a flight of stairs in a two-story duplex. I was on the front end of the bookcase and backing up the stairs (my daddy is a smart man) and the move involved the requisite twisting and turning that always occurs when you’re trying to move a five-foot bookcase in a three-foot stairwell. We managed to get about halfway up the stairs and got stuck. We were hot, tired, and completely over this move (when I was a schoolteacher, all of my moves seemed to happen on the hottest day in July and this was no exception). Daddy repeated with increasing intensity, “Attaway, attaway, attaway!!!” Never particularly gifted with spatial problems, I was completely confused. “Whataway do you want me to go?” was the perfect question because everybody in the house (my mom had heard the increasing volume and arrived to supervise or, more likely, referee) collapsed with laughter. These days we thankfully don’t move much furniture, but we begin any similar chore with “Let’s get the attaway direction clear before we even start.”

Ok, back to the original attaboy/attagirl conversation. It’s really just another way to talk about gold stars. Whatever term suits your fancy is the one you should adopt. The important thing is to take action. I recently saw an article about a guy who wrote a thank you note (to somebody for something) every day for a year. He’s written a book, 365 Thank Yous: The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life, that’s scheduled for release at the end of this year AND he’s originally from Cleveland!.

I’m not crazy enough to think folks are going to write a note every single day of the year. Even I’m not that obsessed since I have clients to find in 2011! But I think I’m going to try to write a note, an email, a Facebook post to give somebody a “yeah day” as a young friend called it every week or so. If I meet my goal, 52 people may get a tiny boost. If I fall behind, then whatever number I accomplish will be a good thing.

Wanna take the challenge of the “attaboy/attagirl” with me in 2011? Let’s start!

Giving Good Phone

My phones, business or personal, don’t ring much these days. Why call when you can text, email, tweet, or post on Facebook? Yet, there are still enough times when phone conversations are the best way to get things done so here are a few tips, tricks, and rants.

On the “answering” side (especially if you’re a gatekeeper or a “Kahuna buffer”):

•     Smile when the phone rings even if you don’t recognize the caller ID. Ok, you have permission NOT to smile if it’s an 888, 877, or 800 number. Otherwise, put some joy in your voice. It surprises folks when it sounds like you’re actually glad to hear from them. I know it’s hard when you have a zillion things going on, but just do it. They may be calling with news you really want to hear!

•     Figure out the connection to the caller. Usually, I’m also sitting in front of a computer screen when the phone rings so, if I don’t recognize a caller immediately, I look them up in our office database to see their connection. I’ve also been known to google names that aren’t in the database. It’s surprising (and flattering) to the caller if you’re able to say: “Sure, I know who you are. You did x, y and z.”

•     Find out the purpose of the call. I answered the phone for the Chief for a lot of years and still do if the phone rings and I’m closest to it. In the early days, I could always tell his long-time friends and colleagues …they gave it up without any prodding. The cold callers were the ones who said, “It’s a personal matter” or “He’ll know why I’m calling.” If you’re able to talk about their connection (see above tip) before they get to the purpose of the call, they’re equally apt to tell you more than they had originally intended.

•     Write down every piece of info (including an email address) and repeat it. Assumptions always get me in trouble so write it down and spell it out. Cheryl can be spelled multiple ways and I always say, “Thanks for asking” when somebody asks me to spell it. I like those people!

On the “calling” side (works for both professional and personal calls):

•     Ask if it’s a convenient time for the caller to chat (especially if you’re about to make an ask). It gives the person an out if s/he is swamped and it lets them know that you respect their time.

•     If you get voicemail that says “leave a brief message” then it means “leave a BRIEF message.” Leave your phone number at the beginning of the message AND at the end. Persons who shall remain unnamed have left me messages where I can open the mail, change clothes, start supper and they’ll still be talking. Those stream of consciousness messages don’t mean much so leave your name, number and purpose of call and hang up (this advice is coming from a woman who prefers to use 10 words when one will do so you know I’m serious).

•     Unless you’re the boss (and then you have special dispensation, I suppose) or driving (when you really shouldn’t be making calls anyway), lose the speaker phone. You sound like you’re in a well and there’s the unspoken message that you’re calling somebody who doesn’t really matter because you’re busy, busy, busy with something other than the call. If you’re that busy, then wait to make the call.

•     If you get an assistant on the line, be nice. S/he can make your life pleasant (or miserable). I’m not an assistant these days, but I have a long memory of those folks who were nice to me and, more importantly, those who weren’t. The Chief always knew, usually sooner rather than later, who was nice (and who wasn’t). I’ve been blessed to work in places where hierarchy and caste systems weren’t front and center and I know that’s not always the case in the “real world,” but I’m just sayin’ that’s the way it ought to be.

What other tips and tricks do you use for a phone call? In my book, the phone is part of the “little c” communications toolkit.

PS – And if you’re under the age of 16 and hear, “May I speak to Jane (or Joe)?” Please, please, please (!) say, “This is she (or he)” vs. “This is her/him.” You’ll make a cranky old English teacher happy and, in return, I'll use your lingo when I text you.

The Power of Blue Toes

My latest pedicure involved “Ogre the Top Blue.” Ok, I’m fully cognizant that red needs to be the standard when people can see my toes, but it’s winter, people, I’m wearing socks!

You’re wondering, “What does this have to do with cheryl’s ‘I can help you’ plan?” But, it does…stay with me.

I’m not a risk taker. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty much a big ol’ scaredy cat (see Old Dog, New Tricks for further evidence; yes, I know, I’m mixing metaphors in this graf). I want to be appropriate, but understated, in attire (lots of black in my wardrobe). I want to completely understand the “rules” of any situation. I want to know in advance what’s going to happen and prepare for all scenarios. I often take myself way too seriously and worry entirely too much about what other people think.

For half of the cheryl v. 3.0 business model, these traits are oddly desirable. If I’m going to do behind-the-scenes work, I predict that folks will like that I show up on time, blend in, meet deadlines, don’t cause any drama, and worry about tasks so they don’t have to.

But cautious characteristics don’t work well for selling. I have to listen to what clients think they need, figure out what they’re really saying, and offer solutions for their challenges. I have to prove that I use all these new-fangled communications channels, even though I’m 25 years older than most of the people considered experts. And once I’ve piqued their interest, I have to talk money which considered “bad form” by most Southern ladies although we do love a little drama (and some pocket change).

I need to stop before I hyperventilate. That’s where the blue toes come in. They, along with a few other talismans which shall remain unnamed (although Thelma Houston, queen of the disco era, may well be involved) give me courage.  They remind me that I’m more than a middle-aged suburbanite. They give me confidence that I can put one foot in front of the other on this journey. They make me think of a wonderful day with people I love. They make me smile, never a bad thing when you’re in sales (or so I’m told).

Need your own blue toes? I can get you a deal on the Shrek Forever series of nail colors. Just let me know; they’re magic.

Reign, Rein, or Rain?

In a newsletter distributed to more than 20,000 subscribers,a blurb began: “Searching for a way to reign in a federal deficit that has ballooned to $1.4 trillion, the Obama administration on Monday announced a proposal to freeze the pay of 2.1 million federal employees through 2012.”

I’m not a federal employee so the thought of a frozen paycheck isn’t what sent me over the top. This is the second time in less than a month where I’ve come across confusion over reign, rein, and rain (we learned about homophones in fourth grade). In 1970 (yes, 40 years ago), Fred Gwynne wrote The King Who Rained which is still, by far, the most fun way to figure out the correct usage for words that sound alike but have different meanings. There’s even a short YouTube video if you’re a visual learner.

Here’s a gentle reminder on what word works where:

·          A queen reigns over her subjects, often with a royal wave.

·          A rider reins in his horse or a family reins in spending.

·          Eliza Doolittle sings, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.”

My guess is that most folks use the correct spelling for the stuff that falls from the sky.  It’s trying to be fancy that gets us in trouble with the other two.  In the case of the newsletter, the editor would have been better off thinking about a cowboy (rein) instead of royalty (reign).  Most of those 20,000 readers probably didn’t even notice the error. This cranky old English teacher did.

Ten Gratitudes

Don and I had a tradition of eating fish at McCormick & Schmick’s on the Wednesday night before the Thanksgiving holiday (honestly, I think he actually preferred USAT’s turkey over mine since he seemed to have to work more Thanksgivings than not) where we shared a recap of the things, large and small, we were most grateful for over the past year.

Don’t think that as DINKs (Double Income, No Kids) that we managed elaborate letters/lists of grand documents every single year.  Much depended on work loads and the “busyness” of life (I still remember one year when the reservation kept getting pushed back in 30-minute increments because the Chief’s email wasn’t working—we finally made an 8:30 seating and the Exchange server was working, whoo-hoo!). 

This wasn’t the only time during the year when we were grateful, but it’s a specific moment when we were mindful of the year’s blessings.  Perhaps it’s an understatement to say this has been an especially challenging year, but I’m still thankful (for many things, but here are 10):

• The anonymous person(s) who raked the leaves in the front yard this week.  I don’t know who, but I know that I’m grateful (and Don, who used to shake the leaves off the limbs to be able to rake them, is, too).
• I’m not forced to make any immediate decisions about where I live or what I do.
• Lean Cuisine and NutriSystem dinners which lets me nuke food and not have to think about what I’m eating..
• Colleagues who took up the slack when I couldn’t meet work commitments and didn’t make me feel guilty.
• Friends who call and email to “exchange pleasantries.”
• Family and long-time friends who are my cheerleaders and “think I can” no matter what.
• Sunday School classes of toddlers who make me smile even when I’m sad.
• an iPhone that lets me track Facebook and Twitter and listen to tunes while I’m walking around the neighborhood (as my sole form of exercise).
• Nieces and nephews who call, text, email, paint my toes, and color my hair.
• A husband who thought I was “da bomb” for almost 20 years.  As Christopher Robin said to Pooh: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

Yes, I’m grateful for the blessings of 2010 (call me Pollyanna) and looking forward with great hope to the adventures of 2011.  What about you?

Old Dog, New Tricks

I hate change (almost as much as I dislike conflict, but that’s another post).  I’ve worn the same perfume for more than 30 years (I rationalize that it’s my signature fragrance). I drive the same route to work every day, usually changing lanes at the same place, too. I sit in the same pew at my church with the same folks in front and behind and am discombobulated if we aren’t all in place. I used to include a slide in my Giftedland workshops that said, “The only person who likes change is a wet baby,” and I pretty much believe that.

You’d think I wouldn’t like new things, but I do. I like meeting new people, learning new facts, hearing new songs, trying different restaurants. I’ve even tried a variety of hair colors in the past few years under the tutelage of my fashion-forward niece since after you have no hair, you figure a different color (or three) ain’t no thang.

Am I an oxymoron?  Maybe in other areas of my life, but I handle change—eventually.  By now, family, friends and colleagues know that when change is thrust upon me, I need to vent (perhaps pout), envision all the horrible things that “might” happen, read as much as I can about the implications and pitfalls of said change, and then put my big girl panties on and get on with it.

Everything about this Cheryl v.3.0 thing involves moving beyond my comfort zone. Isn’t that what change involves for everybody?  So, here are three reminders that I’ve been using that may be helpful to you, too:

•     “Be with it.” An incredibly wise friend shared this several years ago and it’s become my mantra, especially over the past year. Take a deep breath and take each hour, each moment as it comes…a cliché? No doubt, but it works.

•     Laugh. Often, hard, and, yes, inappropriately every now and then. Need a pirate joke? I have a million. If you can, choose to laugh inappropriately with the people who love you most, but don’t worry if you slip.  Sometimes you need the laughter more than you need the approval.

•     Celebrate victories, even the smallest ones that don’t make a difference to anyone else. For example, driving in DC has been a major bogeyman for me.  Silly, I know, but this “Little Girl from Little Rock” doesn’t like to drive in the first place and those round-about things so familiar to New Englanders freak me out.  Don’t even start on the logic that Pierre L’Enfant used to lay out the city; I just know you think you’re on H Street and then it’s Pennsylvania Avenue and, OMG, you’re at the White House and they’re going to think I’m a terrorist (I’m getting to the victory, stay with me).  Anyway, I made it to DC (and back) in my own car this week and I’m a happy camper.  No big deal?  Not to you, but it’s a small victory to remember when it’s time to face the next change.

Major life events are often the impetus of change and I’ve seen enough folks come out successfully on the other side to be hopeful that Cheryl 3.0 will emerge, perhaps bloodied but unbowed.  What tips can you share with this old dog learning new tricks?  Let’s talk.

Never Too Old for Gold Stars

When I taught a creative writing class to high school juniors and seniors long ago, journaling was all the rage.  I suppose it was a precursor to blogging  So, of course, daily journal entries were part of my syllabus. My kids (perhaps not the PC term, but that’s how I thought of them) seemed to like it.  They could do up do N private entries where they folded the page of the notebook over and I didn’t read that entry, but I read most of the entries when they turned them in—monthly? Every six or nine weeks? I don’t remember.  Side bar: Multiply those pages by 30 or more students and then go thank a teacher who still “makes” students write.

The truth is, I didn’t mind the workload because the entries provided a window into their lives long before Facebook provided too much information to caring adults.  As a joke, I bought a pack of those gold gummed stars that elementary teachers used when I was in school.  Every now and then I’d stick a star (or two) on an entry that touched me or made me laugh.  When I ran out of stars, I used a purple or blue or green (no red, for this sensitive teacher!) pen and marked the entries.  Sometimes I’d write a comment or “Good!” but usually it was a star (or two or three).

I didn’t think much about using that system (after all, they got credit for writing whether I liked the entries or not) until I noticed one day there was much ado when I returned the journals.  Frantic shuffling of pages, silence, and then more shuffling.  After a bit, “Dude, she gave me three stars!  What did you get?”  “Ms. Evans, you gave Jimmy three stars and I only got two!”

That’s when I realized that the starting line-up of the football team (ok, it was an elective and they thought it was going to be an easy class—WRONG!) thought the gold stars they got in elementary school were still something to cheer about.  These huge hulks who seemed to only care about their Friday scores (on the field and off) were, deep down, excited to know that their journal entries warranted a two- or three-star rating on my highly unscientific scale.

If we’re honest, all of us care about gold stars, but they quit coming, for the most part, after we aren’t kids any longer.  In my tiny corner of the world, I decided that I’d do my best to hand out gold stars whenever I could to folks who are well past the age when it “should” matter.  I haven’t always done a great job, but I still try to tell folks when I see a gold star moment.  Sometimes it makes a difference, sometimes I don’t know.

It’s what I wish the world writ large would do.  Got a gold star to give?  Just do it.  Now.

Learning by Osmosis

Osmosis is one of those words I learned in high school biology class and I can’t say for certain that I’ve ever used it correctly in a sentence, much less understand how it really works, so don’t send your kids over for help with science homework.  I do, however, find that “learning by osmosis” is an important element in my learning portfolio.  Sleeping on a book won’t do it, no matter how appealing that sounds (almost as attractive as the dieting theory that calories don’t count if I’m standing up while I’m eating). 

No, my completely unscientific theory is that you learn things—big and small—when you don’t even mean to.  Or, at least, that’s what happens to me and then I’m delighted, most of the time, when I figure out I really do know what’s going on!

As a kid, we described it as “It just came upon me…”  Picture a 12-year-old at her weekly piano lesson.  I (I mean, “she”) hadn’t practiced much in the prior week so the hardest piece of music was hidden way down in the stack.  Mrs. M looked up from the metronome and said, “Now, let’s try blah, blah, blah.”  I’m not making this up—nine times out of ten, I ploughed right through with fair success; it came upon me.  Note to all current piano students  I am not advocating this protocol because it didn’t work as flawlessly  when I got to college and I struggled with students like me (I mean, “her”) during my itinerate piano teacher days.

I’m an unabashed “inside kind of girl” who likes books, plays, music, you know, “culcha” (aka things I do sitting down).  And then I married a sports editor and moved to Virginia.  In this alien environment, I was now spending early mornings with ESPN’s Sports Center; meeting people who talked about box scores, division rankings, and “magic” numbers; and sitting in stadiums and arenas in cities across the country.  Without paying much attention, I woke up one day reciting the starting five of the ’66 Rupp’s Runts, understanding that Desmond Howard’s 99-yard kickoff return for a touchdown at Super Bowl XXXI gave him a good chance at being MVP, and scoffing at amateurs who didn’t wait until the inning was over before heading to the concourse for ice cream.  In full disclosure, I STILL require multiple explanations of the “magic number” formula but I’ll get there eventually.

Osmosis moments occur professionally, too.  I’ve shared classrooms, offices and open-area spaces.  Even with intense concentration and a solemn vow that I’m not really listening (I don’t eavesdrop, I promise!), I find I’ve learned some really cool things and I have no clue how I did.  I just know I’ll be working along totally focused on the job at hand and I’ll realize hours later I’m reading an article that includes a factoid I heard earlier, usually prefaced by a phrase like....”This is gonna be the next ‘big’ thing” (heard it today, as a matter of fact, and made a connection not long afterward).

Call it exposure, immersion, spidey sense, or something else entirely, but it works.  I’m not that special so I figure osmosis learning happens to everybody, right?

Intellectually Curious or Just Plain Nosy?

Intellectual curiosity is probably just a nice term for nosy, but since I’ve been tagged with that characteristic for most of my life, I’m going with the marketing spin on this one.  Yes, I ask questions, probably too many, but I learn a lot by asking about things I don’t know.

I’ve always loved knowing random “stuff” and that’s only increased over the years.  I found a rationale for my nosiness when I was in grad school (the gifted and talented stint) and heard my grad school advisor  offer advice in the opening assembly of SLUFY (Summer Laureate University for Youth).  Emily said, “Every day when you come to SLUFY, you should make a new friend, learn something new, and ask a good question.”

Her audience back then was students in grades 1-6, but it’s since become one of my personal happiness commandments, and I’ve shared it with a number of young people I care a lot about and their ages range from five months to 21+.  Will they remember it, embrace it?  Don’t know but I do know that my own life has been enriched through observation, conversation, and questions. Thanks to more amazing folks than I can count (some friends, some strangers), I’m the poster child for a liberal arts education (yeah, Hendrix College, even if I did make it through without ever taking a science class).

The power of intellectual curiosity has taken on even more importance because of my opportunity to work with a visionary leader who is truly a gifted kid grown up and a lot of wicked smart people (my Boston buds have the most appropriate adjectives) since the early ‘90s.  They’ve indulged me by “exchanging pleasantries” over the years, all the while teaching me about things that are way beyond any perceived area of expertise or comfort zone that I might claim.

So, what kinds of things have I learned as a result of colleagues and the “kindness of strangers”?  The wonders of technology and what it can do—just ask a programmer what s/he does and then stand back.  I know just enough about the “innards” of technology to be dangerous, but I’m energized by my ability to ask enough conceptual questions for techies to take me seriously.  I’ve toured the underbellies of buildings to look at boilers and HVAC systems and scored directions for installing my own dimmer switch in my dining room chandelier (which I followed successfully!).  I’ve watched the ballets of the tow-truck operator, the mason laying brick, and the tree-trimmer.  I’ve listened and listened and listened (I don’t DO numbers!) to financial explanations and now have a glimmer of understanding of how to plan to take care of myself when I’m in my late 80s.  I’ve taken a page from the strategists as they smoothly navigate tenuous situations and marveled at their prowess. I read stories by gifted writers, no matter the topic, and try to analyze what makes their articles the special ones that make me smile. I still look at the Southern ladies in my life and think, “I want to be them when I grow up.”

Yes, it’s random, but that’s what makes it wonderful.  Nosy?  Maybe, but you can’t argue with “make a new friend, learn something new, and ask a good question”…what have you learned today?

Good Home Training

“Write thank you notes…”  That’s a real conversation-stopper when people ask me what I really want to do in my new business adventure.  As they try to figure out how to say, “Have you lost your mind?” in a tactful way, I assure them I know I can’t make much of a living doing that, but it’s truthfully what I’d enjoy most if money weren’t a consideration.

In the South, we refer to manners as “good home training,”  and thank you notes fall into that category. I know some folks think it’s unnecessary to send a written note if you’ve said thank you when you received the gift, but that’s not me (my mama raised me right).  I’m a crusader with definite “rules” to follow:

•     Handwrite and mail as soon as possible (in my family, you get a special dispensation to use email IF your life is crazy and/or you’re so excited by the kindness that you want the giver to receive immediate acknowledgment.  But, ideally, you should send a quick email of thanks and a written note that comes later).  If time flies, however, remember that it’s NEVER too late to write a note.  In full disclosure, I took notecards on my honeymoon and wrote a few thank you notes.  I don’t expect that level of dedication, but get to them soon!

•     Use personalized stationery.  Yes, it costs a bit more, but you can always ask for it as a gift (for which you’ll need to write a note!).  I have a stock of various styles—monogrammed, first name, last name, etc.  I’m a fan of correspondence cards but that’s because my notes are generally longer than what fits on a foldover note.  Earlier this year, a funeral director told me their sympathy acknowledgment cards were “free” and I could have as many as I wanted.  D’s family howled when I responded (they said with my nose crinkled), “Oh, no, I’ll use my own.”

•     Be as specific as you can about the gift (unless it’s a cash gift, and, even then, a mention about what you plan to do with the money is needed). You can get away with three or four sentences in your note but make sure that you’re specific enough that folks don’t think you copied the same note 47 times (shades of high school graduates cranking out notes).  Any note, even a generic one, is preferable to nothing, but it doesn’t take much to rise above “average”—and does anybody really just want to be “good enough”?

Remember that thank you notes span more than tangible gifts.  Somebody invited you for dinner?  Thank you.  Helped with an errand or chore?  Thank you.  Did a random act of kindness?  Thank you, thank you! 

Attitude of gratitude qualifies as a cliché these days with books, websites, and even a Facebook page, but clichéd or not, taking the time to write a note has always returned more to me than the effort I expended.  No excuses:  It’s a piece of paper, a 44-cent stamp and 10 minutes of your time.

While I may never make a living writing thank you notes (there are such businesses, but I’d have to find a bunch of brides or widows), I’m hoping there are a few people out in the world who would like to have my behind-the-scenes help in cultivating relationships through notes, emails, letters.  We’ll see if there’s a niche for good home training.

Maya Angelou allegedly (I can’t find a credible citation that makes me comfortable) said, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”  Wanna make somebody feel good?  Write them a note right now.

That's not my name

My new adventure needs a name other than Cheryl v. 3.0.  Trusted advisors assure me that whatever name I choose can be adapted or changed (sponsored by those three letters dba), but my perfectionist tendencies are in full bloom over this tiny detail.  Finding something that works for an LLC and a domain, that sounds professional, that is somewhat memorable in a clever kind of way is bothering me way more than it should.

Cheryl & Co. would be perfect but that cookie chick grabbed it years ago and another bakery in Pennsylvania has camped out on cheryl.com. CherylCollins is a person in Canada who uses lower case to spell her name, just like me!  CCollins, LLC is pretty boring and, anyway, it belongs to an airbrush artist.

CherylCanDoThat.com is way long and sounds like it’s an info-mercial or the jingle from Expedia DOT COM.  I’m not certain that CherylCan.com is any better plus the whole aim of my services is (at least for now) helping you achieve your goals (and CherylCanHelp is even kludgier than CherylCanDoThat).  The Collins Group or Collins Associates or some permutation drives me crazy because I keep wanting to think about whether an apostrophe is necessary (see, I’m OCD).

No matter how much I like to believe I’m one-of-a-kind, this exercise underscores that there are lots of women named Cheryl Collins and at least some of them are business owners.  I should have known it was no coincidence when I got another Cheryl Collins’s parking ticket in grad school and I’ve picked up a prescription that belonged to yet another Cheryl Collins in the past six months. 

So, I’m taking a page from the world o’ software geeks and declaring the naming conversation a crowdsourcing initiative.  The rules are pretty simple.  Leave your ideas in the Comments section below or email me directly.  Besides an availability search in Virginia, I have to be able to secure the domain or something that’s close enough to it to make sense. If I pick your name, I’ll provide a really good prize (!) and you’ll have my undying gratitude.

Like the T.S. Eliot poem, “The Naming of Cats,” I’m looking for my “ineffable effable, effanineffable, deep and inscrutable singular Name.”

On your mark, get set, go!  Let the brainstorming begin.

PS – Yes, the title of this post is a tribute to the Ting Tings (I’m attempting to enter the 21^st century with at least part of my musical tastes).

Cheryl can…

“…do anything she sets her mind to do!”  At least that’s what my folks said when Don officially asked for my hand in marriage almost 20 years ago (ok, I was WELL past the age of consent, but that’s the way we roll in the South). 

Despite that ringing endorsement, my drama queen visits late at night when I catalog the lengthy list of all the things I can’t do:  I’m never going to be a doctor or a singer in a rock band or the president of anything other than perhaps fan clubs for my friends’ kids.  It’s equally unlikely that I’m going to run a marathon or jump out of a plane willingly or climb a mountain peak.

But in brief moments of self-reflection, I realize that my passion lies in helping others achieve their dreams and celebrate victories, both big and small, personal and professional.  Essentially, I’m an encourager.  My community of faith calls it the “gift of exhortation” and it took me years to accept/embrace this fancy label.  Yes, I might be seen (here comes the drama queen again) as a Pollyanna with a simplistic view of life who avoids confrontation. That’s probably true, at least part of the time, but you can imagine how excited I was to receive the HBR article, “Just because I’m nice, don’t assume I’m dumb,” from a trusted colleague.

I’m grateful that others bring an equal passion and a battle approach to thorny issues. If they’ll let me, it’s likely I’ll be in the background helping them work on those challenges. I’m quite pleased to encourage the doctor, singer, president and celebrate the accomplishments of the runner, sky diver, climber.  I’ve enthusiastically applauded friends and colleagues who have all those accomplishments in their portfolios even though I don’t and likely never will.

Do anything I set my mind to?  Not so much, but my parents are still right in a big picture sort of way.  For today, my mind is set so that Cheryl can…help with:

-          Practical advice based on proven experiences from working with a lot of really smart people;

-          Behind-the-scenes consulting that keeps the spotlight on the people I work with instead of me;

-          Access to information you don’t currently have in a format that makes sense to you;

-          Help in specific (often obscure) areas since little things make the big difference.

Wherever my new adventure leads, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will be filled with opportunities to help and encourage.  Stay tuned.

So What? Why Now?

I know writers…lots of them.  They are friends and colleagues, not just names on a printed page. They write newspaper articles, books, speeches, columns, blogs, you name it, in high profile venues. Their topics range from philanthropy to sports to health to family.  My favorites (and you know who you are) write on deadlines that I can’t imagine.  But they do it and I still get a thrill when I see a byline or new posting from one of them.

So, you can see my reluctance in starting my own blog and making it available online.  What if somebody reads it?!?  What if I have no “voice” after years of talking about its importance? What if? What if?

Long ago, I worked with gifted students and creative writing was one of the classes I taught.  Donald Graves and William Zinnser were two resources I used in that class and our (yes, I wrote when my students did) journals were early precursors of today’s blogosphere.  I wrote medical update emails for almost four years to keep family and friends updated on the Collins’ health saga.  More recently, I’m enamored by Roy Peter Clark of the Poynter Institute and I get a daily email from Grammar Girl.  Colleagues know me as the “cranky old English teacher” who is distracted/outraged by run-on sentences, misplaced commas, and egregious use of it’s vs. its and a lot as one word rather than two. 

Yet, in January 2011, I’m embarking on a new adventure that I’m calling Cheryl v.3.0.  I can’t advise others on effective use of communications for building relationships if I’m not experimenting with lots of different tools myself.  Well, I could, but that would be disingenuous.

I’m a big believer in the “conversations on paper” approach to writing and know that any “voice” I acquire will be enhanced through your participation.  Chances are high that I’ll never hit the NY Times bestseller list, the pages of USA TODAY, or a Twitterstream with 300K followers.  But I can walk my talk, so I’m taking a deep breath and pressing the publish button…here goes.