Good for a Laugh

My mom sent me a Herman cartoon that she cut out of the paper. It's a picture of one old guy in a suit sitting in an executive chair across a desk from another old guy in a suit. Old guy #2 is wearing a spotted, tall party hat with the big fringe around the bottom, and it's tilting slightly to one side. He's saying, "I always wear my lucky hat for job interviews."

My mom wrote a note on the edge of the cartoon: Erin--This may be why you never get the job.

I laughed out loud, and every time I look at it, it makes me smile. It was a welcome light note in a week of bad news, bronchitis, and bumming out. The lesson? Never, ever lose your sense of humor.

Complicated Schmomplicated

I volunteer for four organizations: the Women's Foundation of Colorado, Smart-Girl, Denver Kids, and the Women'sVision Foundation. I love it. It's a lot of work, but it's the right kind of work. The kind that makes me feel like I make a difference in the world. Like I'm using my skills in a meaningful way. I'm meant to do it. It's a core part of my being.

And the funny thing is, the more I do it, the more of those "Aha!" moments I have--the moments where I see how one concept relates to another, understand how important a new idea is, or see why it was so serendipitous that I introduced those two people to each other. When I explained this to a friend, he said those kinds of realizations seem to make things more complicated for him. And that's when I realized that I live for those moments. To me, "complicated" means interesting, challenging, and stimulating. The more complicated, the better.

My life is rich with complications.

How Do You Cycle?

Today I paid 75 cents more to buy a used book than I could have paid to buy the same book brand new. One less new book purchased is less raw materials and energy used to produce it. What would have been better is if I had shopped at the local used bookstore and found a copy there. That way, the carbon footprint would have been smaller because the book wouldn't have to be shipped to me. I'd also be supporting the local economy with my purchase and the 12.2% sales tax rate I pay for the privilege of buying goods in my town.

I'm also starting to keep non-recyclable plastic bottle lids. I know I'll be able to figure out a way to make them into cool jewelry if I put some creative energy into it. This is known as upcycling--taking something that would otherwise be thrown away and giving it new life.

We took our old electronic equipment to be harvested for parts instead of dumping it. We paid a small fee.

I made a bulletin board out of old champagne corks.

I recycle every scrap of paper, cardboard, and paperboard along with the plastics and glass that my recycle company will take. I'm considering starting to collect the plastics they won't take so that we can drop them off at a recycling plant where they're a little more enlightened.

A friend uses a dry-erase board rather than paper to take notes for something that he needs to remember only temporarily. This is an example of a practice known as precycling--figuring out how to do something differently so that you don't unnecessarily waste a resource in the first place.

Another friend is going to put a flagstone patio in her back yard. She listed her grass on Freecycle.com, and within a week, a guy came to cut her 100 square feet of sod and take it away. She got her flagstones from another friend who had taken out his patio.

What ideas and practices have you incorporated into your life that contribute to sustainability?

Everyone's a Poet

Gary and I celebrated our fifteenth wedding anniversary this year with a poetry date at Bear Creek Lake Park. We ate a gourmet picnic lunch, read poetry, and went for a walk on one of the many trails. Listening to the birds and cicadas was heaven.

One of the books I had checked out from the library was Pizza, Pigs, and Poetry: How to Write a Poem, an entertaining book written by our nation's first Children's Poet Laureate, Jack Prelutsky. Not only did I laugh out loud a few times, I got so tickled I snorted. Perhaps the pigs in the poems had an effect on me.

Mr. Prelutsky has lots of good advice about how to write poetry, even if you're not part of his target audience. Though I've heard it before, it stuck with me this time: Write what you know.

it's still summer

the rain comes

nights are cool, cooler

than the weeks before

the air is chill

with wet

I shiver

anticipating fall and

slipping a sweater

over my head

smelling woodsmoke and

damp leaves

Making Change One Student at a Time

I taught the Financial Management and Fundraising class for the second time at the University of Denver's Graduate School of Social Work this month. It was an "intensive" version of the class. What is normally 33 hours of instruction over 11 weeks was crammed into 24 hours on two Fridays and two Saturdays. Oh, and did I mention that I adopted new textbooks?

After researching new developments in the field, reading the textbooks, redoing my lecture notes and lesson plans in their entirety, and planning the class exercises and handouts, I was ready. I didn't really know what to expect, though, and I was dubious about teaching the course in this format. I wasn't sure how much the students could really absorb in such a short amount of time. They'd have to learn a new language. I'd have to build their skills in reading and interpreting financial statementes, creating budgets, and evaluating development marketing collateral. It was a tall order.

We outdid ourselves. The students were committed, energetic, and smart. I chose the right things to focus on and the right way to teach them. I saw their confidence grow. I got goosebumps at least a dozen times--that's what happens when I'm 100% in the moment and making a connection with the students. I fell in love with teaching all over again. It was amazing.

I'll be grading assignments for the next three weeks, and I can't wait to see how they apply what they learned to the nonprofit organizations they're interested in. I am empowering them to make change, and I am honored to have the opportunity.

My Fan Club

I have a little ritual when I go on an interview. I picture my friends, family, and supporters sitting around me. They don't speak. They just sit quietly and read the newspaper or calmly watch the proceedings. Once in a while, one of them catches my eye and smiles at me or gives an approving nod.

It's my fan club--they're only in my imagination when I'm in an interview, but they're very solid in real life. And boy howdy, am I grateful for them.

For years, some members of the club have proudly and loudly proclaimed that they'd vote for me for president of the United States if I ran. The first time someone said that to me, I was more than a little surprised. Me? The president? That's when I realized I have what they call moxie. Personality. Verve. Spirit. Courage. Know-how. Energy. Initiative. And all of that translates into the ability to inspire, lead, and push the envelope.

I know that I will put my moxie to use in a nonprofit organization again. The universe is, for now, teaching me humility and patience. I thought I had learned those lessons, but I am happy and willing to be a student once more. As long as I have my fan club by my side.

Reflections on Communing with Nature

Bug spray on top of sweat on top of dirt on top of sunscreen on top of sweat on top of bug spray—a modern girl surviving in the forest

There is absolutely nothing like the constant sound of a babbling brook to set your mind at ease.

When I was a kid, I climbed huge boulders on the sides of mountains and threw rocks in streams to see how deep they were. I still do that.

It takes a few days of being away from civilization for the mind to quiet itself.

We have some things to learn from dogs, like when to lie on the dirt and take naps in the sun.

In the mountains, you must be prepared for fifty degrees of temperature change in one day. In July. No kidding. Really.

“Three-season tent” really means “You’re going to freeze, so you better have a really good sleeping bag and a hat.”

Flexibility and balance come in handy when putting on your long underwear while standing on the tops of your shoes.

Wildflowers are the best, most beautiful flowers of all.

Impressions from a Forest

“Is it sad to camp in a grove of dead trees?” I ask.

“No,” he says, and he means it.

We think we see a specimen of the dreaded pine beetle, the one that’s done the dastardly deed. Whatever it is, it flies with its legs hanging straight down like one of those spacecraft on My Favorite Martian. Its antennae are a little bit longer than its body—creepy--and they remind me of curved, serrated knives. A whole lot of weird in a small package.

One lands on the table next to me. I slide my pen tip up under its head to see what it will do. I don’t really want to share the table with it, but I don’t want to hurt it either. I am in its space after all. Nothing happens. I slide the pen out. I think. It waits. I wait.

I slide the pen back over to its side of the table and gently touch one of its front legs. OK, that did it. It leaves, but it doesn’t just fly away like any other self-respecting bug. It takes a few slow steps toward the edge of the table and then lifts its wings and launches itself in the air, flying in its awkward, slow way over to the next little stand of almost-dead trees.

I guess we know who’s king of this jungle.

How Sustainable Are We?

Do you think about sustainability? I do--for nonprofit organizations, animal life, plants, and yes, my lifestyle. I live in a beautiful suburban neighborhood in a little 60s ranch house with big trees and a garden I've spent seven years creating. In Mexico, eight family members would live with me. We'd raise some of our own food on the land. I buy cooked, sliced chicken at Costco that comes in a plastic resealable bag that isn't recyclable. But it's convenient.

I also think about privilege (race, religion, gender, socioeconomic class, heterosexuality, gender role identification, education, body shape/size... the list goes on and on) and how it affects sustainability. Clearly, those who have privilege get to make the rules at the expense of the have-nots, even if that means we ruin it for others. Throwing away trash, throwing away recyclables, throwing away productivity, throwing away people.

Oh, I do "my part"--don't get me wrong. I recycle more than I throw away. I buy used cars. I shop at the thrift store and get perfectly usable stuff for $3.50 instead of $35.00. I check out books at the library rather than buying new ones. With my money and my time, I support nonprofits that promote economic self-sufficiency and sustainability for women and girls. I make changes in my language to change perceptions about those who do not have privilege.

But my part seems so, so tiny.

Peace on the Plains

Over the Memorial Day weekend, Gary and I went birding on the plains east of Denver. I know, I know--it's kind of strange to spend a beautiful sunny day out on the windy prairie in the middle of nowhere. But we have a knack for picking trips that place us exactly where no one else is. And it was the right choice.

Driving on highways and dirt roads that ascend into the great big empty blue sky was pretty close to Nirvana for me. We added at least a dozen birds to our life list and saw environments and bird behavior that we'd never seen before. We glassed pronghorns that were watching us from miles away. We talked about everything and nothing. My thoughts were clear and sharp and then altogether gone.

Our last stop was the Ramah Reservoir, which you would never find unless you were looking really, really hard for it. As we drove up, I was thinking plains + water = trillions of mosquitos, right? But there was a stiff breeze, and I didn't see them at all. We stepped down from the parking area about two feet to start walking toward the lake, and I was immediately enveloped by a hum so loud and so big I felt like I had walked into an alternate universe. There they were. If a bird would fly with his mouth open, he'd have his dinner in thirty seconds flat.

The prairie wind drove pioneer women insane, and after having spent a day out there, I could see why. It's relentless, and it blows dirt into every crevice. But it also keeps away the bugs.