Desert Island

booksEver been asked what you would take if stranded on a desert island? I’ve not been sure, or whom I would choose to speak with—if that were the question, any person living or dead.

After too long a stretch without downtime—me time—No work, no urgent household repairs, nor pressing relationship projects (like collecting free firewood together), I’ve missed books! 

This past year my go-to source has been the convenience of Amazon Kindle, yet I haven’t spent the price of a physical book for a one-time through ethereal read very often. When the $1.99 special suits my fancy, I do enjoy it. But I have a lot of books. I’ve emptied my library more times than I can remember, yet still have shelves and shelves of books. There must be a reason I’m dusting them!

I recently reread one by Maya Angelou. I started rereading one by William Safire, given to us by our next door neighbors as we were getting ready to move to Sedona in 2002. Interesting, but incisive critiques on word use isn’t a page-turner for me. I picked up one by Anna Quindlen, a good reread, story intrigue and short chapters.

I love losing myself in a book I cannot put down, whether novel or true. I confess at this point in my life I don’t need it to be a stay-up-all-nighter. But I’d still like it to feel that way.

If everything in my life were suddenly lost, without splitting hairs over the list, and home and spouse being unredeemable, I think I would miss books the most.

What is your desert island love or vice? [please use the comments box below]

 

 

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When Down is Up

I signed out of my home office at 4:30 Friday and haven’t looked back. Not that that is huge, because it was only 26 hours ago. But I often “check in” to see whether anything is going tipsy with one of the employees, something I can sort out by paying attention to recent emails. Not this time.

I finished rereading A Song Flung Up to Heaven, by Maya Angelou, before I even caught up on the last week’s small town newspapers. I practiced the second lesson in an email drawing class I signed up for. Pulled some weeds. Raked up the weeds I pulled from the shoulder of the street last week.

Dug rocks away from a pink Butterfly Guara that came up in the drainage ditch in the spring. Put it in a pot where it will get watered regularly. (I hope it lives. Digging up a shrub in bloom at noon is not the best for the plant, but it was good for me to get to something I’d wanted to do for months.)

Diced, chopped and made a wholesome sandwich spread for lunch. Then fell asleep on the sofa with the remaining newspaper section. I felt drugged. (Too much mayo?)

Rousing my morbid body, I went outside to snip pods off the desert willow (first time I’d seen four pods on one stem!). Wandered about pulling the tallest weeds until 3:00, the time I told Ellen I would play Quirkle with her.

The job—the one in the home office—has been amazing. The ‘empire’ has almost doubled in the last few months. My work has more than doubled. I don’t mind having ‘more than I can do’ because I’m brilliant with focus, priorities and meeting the first deadline first. I even reached out to another staffer for help with a few hours’ end-of-the-month task.

But today felt like the first time in months I hadn’t been checking every few hours whether something had gone amiss, or whether I’d overlooked a deadline.

I sorted several dresser drawers with things to pack away and to give away. Even sanded and waxed the drawers to work better. When I needed allergy spray, it was exactly where I expected it to be though I hadn’t seen it for months.

Order uplifts me. Cleanliness more so.

I feel boosted, rested, empowered, back into my own life rather than my bosses’ lives, however nice they are. I can go-go-go-go with the best of them, or perhaps the second best at this point in my life. I’ve practiced to do by will what I could not do if left to my innate view of self.  (The downside to that, if you’re wondering, is injuries that would not have occurred had I not attempted feats beyond my body’s capacity—but look what I’ve accomplished!)

It’s been a long time, months, since I devoted a day or more to myself and self-interests. I don’t know whether straightening up my office will become part of this three-day weekend. It might not—too mental. I want to get rid of stuff, including the weeds that covered the ground during this monsoon season.

But whether all the weeds get sorted, or half the clothes on hangers get donated, books will be read, games played, soaks taken and rolling over the rail to get to the side of the escalator going up is a given.

 

 

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Cost is Not Bad

No Free LunchI’m not fond of the aphorism There’s no such thing as a free lunch, because it is usually delivered as a bucket of cold water to drown a flicker of hope.

But it’s true. Everything costs something. The price only seems free when what we trade is given willingly and considered of little value or infinite supply.

That fishbowl you put your name and address into for a free T-shirt? How many pieces of mail—or email—did you subsequently receive to pay for that freebie? (I added a “W” as a middle initial once when purchasing something online. Every month I get recyclables in my mail box addressed to “Lin W. Ennis.”)

There are many ways to protect yourself online, such as one-time use email addresses, but that is not the theme of this peeve.

Have you considered the costs of friendship? If you never have time to go out together shopping, to a movie or gallery, or for a meal or drink, how available can you expect that friend to be? Friends, similar to spouses or lovers, require you to “put out.” You’re probably better off not thinking of it as pay-for-play, but as an investment.

Here are a few other examples of things that seem free but to my opinion are not:

 
FREEBIE
COST
free soda refills empty calories
second helpings more calories than you need
free movie tickets two hours of your time (and taste in film?)
free online samples pay shipping and join subscription
free dessert cost you your commitment

 

 

I’d like to hear from you in the comments. I’m sure we are bombarded daily in more ways than we realize.

But just because it isn’t free, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it!

 

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Linny's AvatarI haven’t written or blogged regularly in so long, I contemplated letting all my websites go when malware recently forced an error that required resetting almost everything and spending a few hundred dollars to upgrade security. In short, the Google gods sent me into a black hole.

All URLs now beginning with https:// instead of http:// is sort of like giving a merchant the three-digit code off the back of your credit card because that makes the 16-digit number, expiration date and matching zipcode more secure—until another security upgrade is required for your credit card or your website or turning on your dishwasher.

The question was, Should Lin Ennis, who once had millions of search result in .19 seconds, disappear entirely from the world wide web? Maintaining a personal identity on the web is almost as obscure as cryogenics. Don’t want to freeze my body and come back in the future as myself, or as anyone else for that matter, so I’d better get in line with this security thing and keep my presence here, at least a little bit.

The tools with which I was familiar are now different. WordPress has probably released 20 updates since I was last here. Layout themes are more complex. The article syndicators that hosted my writings have disappeared. My books are all but out-of-print. My knowledge of how to build an authority site is not appreciated by my boss or my lover, so why syndicate articles anyway?

I just cannot completely let go of myself. I’d like to get my food blog back up and running. Sometimes I just want to cook and write about it. Or discover a new vegetable and see whether it has a following. I’m not selling anything. I might if there were a market fort common sense. Or logic. Or insight.

I’ll have to figure out the 2018 equivalent of Feedburner and a dozen other utilities Google absorbed; otherwise, no one will even know this is here except me.

If by chance you, a person, is reading this, please let me know I have a reach of 1 or 2 or …

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Speak Boldly

September 6, 2024: I finally made peace with spending hundreds of dollars to secure my three websites. Now I’m opening each page or post to put the image back it. Though the Twenty Ten theme may not be the most dependable, it has what I want right now: a header image, a menu, and a list of recent posts.

August 30, 2018: This used to be my front page, a page I haven’t changed in YEARS. I may come back to edit its content to be current. Meanwhile, I need a new front page with fresh content.

Edit

Read, write and shoot is my communication passion—the passion for gathering information and distributing information, in words, pictures, word-pictures. I love to make complex things simple, make the crooked straight, support people in understanding what they’re interested in. That’s one of those things I’d do even if I didn’t get paid. How do I know? I do it all the time!

I stood in the haircare aisle of a store when a woman a few feet away seemed confused over which hairspray to buy. I shared enthusiastically about a recent product discovery.

I purchased an anniversary dinner at a business that assembled homemade gourmet entrees, froze them, and sold them as heat-and-eat. Business was slow even the second time I shopped there. I suggested a few proven marketing techniques. Gratis. Did not ask a fee. Didn’t matter. They didn’t do any of them and folded within a few months.

I often ask myself, “Would people implement a strategy if I charged thousands of dollars for it? Would they see their need clearly enough to pay thousands of dollars?

I have talked – and written – all my life. I cannot think of a time when I didn’t like to put ideas into words and thoughts onto paper. Now my considerations are given wings of ether and fly by email or hover on a website. My mother, literary herself, used to quip:

I have a pencil. I’m a writer.

I have word processing software, and I’m not afraid to use it!

I’m infrequently eloquent, but I’m always clear. OK, sometimes I am eloquent. And occasionally I muddle a sentence.

Besides writing and the business of marketing what I write (and writing to market what I’ve written), I also love nature—plants and animals. Looking at beautiful things or cute or striking animals calms me and raises my happiness level. That’s another topic to pour into a fountain of words.

Books

I write non-fiction: how-to books—because I love explaining complex ideas in simple language. It bugs me that cities and corporations and emperors and people full of themselves pontificate and make simple things sound complex. Plain English please, without your internal secret language—jargon—which I perceive as disrespectful of the audience to whom these bamboozling words are directed.

The first book I wrote was a training manual for Ventura Publisher, an early desktop publishing software that was sophisticated and complex. The woman who hired me to write it appreciated the work, which she sold to the state of Illinois, but she wanted it divided into two parts, and paid me $750 per volume. She charged the state twice that. That was around 1988.

By 2001, I had been using the Internet in business seven years. My first “email marketing” (to a list) campaign had been launched on Christmas Eve of 1998. I had phenomenal response rates, hovering around 21 percent gross, that is, without subtracting for bounces, non deliverables, out-of-offices and the rest. Had I counted the responses against the received emails, the response percentage would have been much higher.

I was also training a team of entrepreneurs how to present their products and services long-distance, that is, by telephone and email. Most followed the company line of talking about stability, longevity, partners, etc., to the exclusion or at best delay of speaking to what the prospect was looking for: rapid weight loss, fresher air, cleaner water, greater vitality…

Email Marketer’s Cookbook

When I asked distributors to tell me why a client should enroll with them, i.e., their unique selling proposition (USP), they either said the wrong thing (corporate description drivel) or had nothing at all to say. When I asked who their target customer was, they said “everybody.” When I asked what was special about them as a team leader, they usually drew a deficit card and went to jail paying a $200 fine as they passed Go.

So I wrote a workbook. It taught marketing principles, then inquired to not only engage the readers but also to get them to answer questions about themselves and their products or services and company. All of this they wrote into the blank lines in the workbook. My intent was to trick them into spilling the beans of the correct things to say in a marketing situation, but I had to include the crap they were dying to tell everyone even though it usually cost them the sale. They needed to pour it all out and get it off their chests.

As the workbook led them to the point of crafting their emails, it listed page a paragraph numbers for them to copy from, thus selectively pulling information together in the best order for convincing  another to join it.

Your patience prevents my listing all of the critical elements that support a successful email campaign with high conversion rates. My first two rules are, and these are inviolable…

  1. Get attention. Be daring or dramatic or sympathetic or unexpected or something – almost anything – that will make a person stop and read your subject line, then read your first sentence. That sentence has only one purpose: to make them read the next. And so on.
  2. Do not offend. It is stunning how many off- and on-line business insult – or neglect – their prospects from the outset. Do not patronize, ignore or any of a hundred other actions that could offend. I stopped at a fruit stand today that said Ripe NOW, Organic fruit. I parked and walked into what appeared to be a compound with several building surrounding a grassy yard dotted with fruit trees of many varieties. There was no sign which building to go to. I walked amongst the trees. No fruit was ripe. A young woman appeared and when questioned, said Come back in a week. There was no way those knobs of chlorophyll would be fruit in a week. She said “Let me go get the king for you.” I told her if the fruit wasn’t ripe, she shouldn’t bother. As small a thing as inaccurate, and then inadequate, signage steals people’s time and their hope for a succulent pear or sweet-tart plum. Categorically making your life more important than your customers’ is offensive. Don’t do that.
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Professional Writing

From the March 11, 2016 obituary I read today in the Red Rock News:

His father Joe Lee McCoy was killed in a logging accident prior to his birth.

And that, my friends, is why the world needs professional writers.

The possessive pronoun “his” refers back to the last person mentioned—Joe Lee McCoy. How could the poor man be killed before he was even born?

Not to disparage the bereaved, but to illustrate a point with facts, I post this not only because it made me laugh, but also because it is one of the most common errors made in writing. To avoid making the same error, fix your eyes on the pronoun, in this case his, and move them left until they reach a noun—McCoy.

If you aren’t sure, hire a professional.

sig

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Love Is a Choice

Antique_Die_Cut_ValentineIn the movie The Choice, where “each small decision leads to the next small decision” and cumulatively make a life, decisions are presented as a provocative philosophical theme. How does a person marry one person instead of another? Little choices that make first a trend, perhaps, then all together make a life.

 

Then there are the really big decisions. Not decisions about buying a new truck or rebuilding the old one. Not decisions like how much medical care to choose for yourself or your spouse in a crisis. Really BIG decisions, like how much are you going to love your special someone today?

  • What difficult thing will you handle so he or she won’t have to?
  • What can you give of yourself to bring your lover more joy?
  • What if tonight were your last night on earth together? would you dance? caress? argue? watch TV alone?

How about the biggest decision of all? How hard will you love this person? And for how long? How many days? How many days even if you don’t feel the same appreciation washing back your way? Is today one of those days you will love harder, love more?

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Gardening Episode

A variety of desert rose bush

A variety of desert rose bush

I don’t recall the name of this little bush producing rose-colored flowers. It is a rose, non-thorny variety. Prefers full-sun and I planted it under a tree. It seems too large to move now.

When I clean the pond, foreground not pictured, I sweep part of the water toward this little garden. The “rose” seems to respond with more and larger blossoms. The Nierembergia enjoys the extra water, too, especially the white one behind the purple, as it seems a bit more delicate that its purple robed cousin.

I could add more outlets to the drip system, but then what would I do with the pond water when it needs to be exchanged for clean?

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How to Put in Your Own Drip System—or Not

Black Oak, Arizona Native TreeWe planted an oak tree this week, an Emory Oak (black oak), native to this area though not common until one reaches higher elevations. Since I want to water it, I encircled it with a few plants I thought might look good at its almost evergreen base. When new oak leaves begin to emerge in the spring, the old-timers turn yellow and fall off. They are pretty small for raking…welcome to desert and near desert plants. (The smaller the leaves, the greater the water conservation.)

Nearby, I had a small flower bed–natives and Iris–that I watered by hand, and a few large ceramic pots. All need to be on a mechanized watering system due to my tendency to overestimate what I can accomplish in a day. Long lists, happy completions, and some tasks pushed forward. (Plants are not always pleasant about that decision.)

A year ago, I hired a local green thumb to come over, walk my property and advise me. She recommended a hybridized drip system. I’d put off installing a drip system, because I did not want to pay a crew to dig 10 inch deep trenches all over my yard and then I would have to decide which “zones’ needed more or less water. Too expensive and too hard. Martine suggested I put in strips of irrigation tubing with quick release connectors. Very easy to do.

I had three zones or areas to water, so I purchased three hose-end timers. Nothing complicated to put on the hose bib (faucet). Just screw them onto the hose before the quick connector, and when the water is on, turn the timer to 15 minutes, an hour, or whatever you need. In my setup, by the time I walked each garden area checking for leaks, sprung emitters, or other anomalies, and returned to the beginning, it was time to turn that one off.

Tying in the oak tree and adjacent flower beds required expanding the irrigation system. By now, I had two quick connects in the north back yard, so I considered which one would be simplest to expand—expansion requiring a length of larger tubing buried underground to carry life-giving water to the plant beds. The existing garden I chose was a bit farther away, but somehow more logical for the task. You see, as water travels down a line, the flow can become weaker, foot traffic can endanger the line, animal attacks on near-surface water carriers…all must be considered.

What makes these decisions easy is understanding I will in all likelihood be again learning by doing, that is, trial and error, which exponentially sweetens life. That is, the less fear one has about doing something wrong—anything and everything—the more happily one journeys.

Please post your questions below. I’m in complete and total gardening mode.

By the way, I probably don’t have answers to your questions—just more questions. Thanks for helping to figure this out together.

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Preparing for Rotator Cuff Surgery, Part 2

preparing for rotater cuff surgery learn to brush your teeth with the other handPart 1 of preparing for rotator cuff surgery focused on assembling conveniences to make life with one good arm—usually not your dominate appendage—more manageable. Part 2 is about preparing yourself.

Resilience

Continue to do all you can to boost your immune system. You’ll be asked to stop taking all your vitamins and herbals a week before surgery, so do not delay in loading up to safe levels prior to that.

Keep up with your exercises. Your large arm muscles are not the issue–it’s the tiny little bits in your shoulders that usually do not get enough of the right kind of attention. T’s and Y’s with light-to-very-light weights are good for this. By all means, get some help. For large muscles, work on chest and back.

Get the knots out. If you have a big aching lump in your upper back like I did, I recommend the Body Back Buddy, similar to a Theracane, but better, in my opinion. Massage is a good idea, too.

Observation

You’ll probably be surprised at all the things you do every day, all day long, that rely almost exclusively on the mobility of the arm that is about to go under the knife. Over a period of days, think through and plan how you are going to maintain those functions—either independently or with someone’s help—with your repaired shoulder and arm in a bulky sling (picture holding a 2 pound loaf of bread under you arm and if you drop it you will die).

Practice

Now comes the fun part. Start doing everything possible with the arm that will be free after surgery. For example, shower and wash your hair using only your left hand. Can you also dry yourself with your designated arm hanging loosely at your side? (I finally found gathering the end of a towel in one hand and throwing it over my back like a switch swatting flies works pretty well. Just make sure you have lots of clearance so you aren’t sweeping bathroom breakables onto the floor.) Of course, you will not be able to shower for two weeks, but this is one of the easiest areas to begin practicing.

I focused on personal hygiene, because that is something most of us do entirely by ourselves all the time, whether or not we live alone. Someone else may be willing to slice up a salad for you, but they are less likely to want to wash and dry you, do your hair (and may be less skilled at it) and pull up your britches after you use the toilet.

Bathing

I quickly learned I preferred to sponge myself off than to have my partner do it. Reason is, it’s like being a passenger in a car—you get jostled much more than when you’re the one holding the wheel. The unexpected movements of my body made me anxious about moving the shoulder too much (not in the sling for bathing) or flat out pain. And as I said in Part 1, use wipes every chance you get so there is less to do at the sink at bath time.

After a few days, I had to have a bath. I put a face towel on the edge of the tub, had Ellen help me lower my arm to the floor outside the tub, and put my armpit on the little towel. (You cannot lift your arm even 3 inches of its own volition the first week out.) I soaked and read a magazine article.

By the second week, I was able to hold my elbow to my side, at a right angle, and sit all the way into the tub, washing with only my left hand. It is absolutely critical that the stitches not get wet, because that is the leading cause of post surgical infection!

Hair Washing

When we bought the house, I had a high-arching faucet put in the lavatory. The plumber had so much trouble with it, he did his best to talk me into a “normal” fixture, but I knew I would occasionally want to wash my hair in the sink rather than in the shower. Never truer than after the shoulder surgery!

I opened the drawer beside the lavatory and laid a bath towel across it for quick application after the wash and rinse is complete. You cannot stand up before grabbing a towel—water will drip down to your shoulder. Still bent over and dripping, you turn toward the towel, pull it up over your head with your free arm, and cradle the excess around your neck to protect your stitches from water.

By my second week, I was able to turn over to my knees in the tub and dunk my head, one side at a time, into the bath water and wash hair—being careful to go directly to the towel without raising my head! Think of this: washing your hair in bath water, you will need less product for styling, because it won’t be “too clean” to style.

Hair Styling

I had a heckuva a time learning to put product on my hair using only one hand, because how do we do it? We dispense it into one hand, rub our hands together, then with both hands evenly apply the product. Ellen did my hair for me a few times, but I teased her that she was having a great joke at my expense. I tried three different gels, and found one that works with one hand with a drop or two of water added.

Styling was hard for me because I use a brush to lift my hair, and the dryer to curve the hair over the brush. Air drying doesn’t work for hair as fine and thin as mine. I took new tactics with one-handed drying, being more precise with the tool, and for a few days now have been able to leave the house looking respectable on my own. Guys, you’re lucky.

Grooming

Whether you wear makeup, trim your mustache or wax your own eyebrows, start practicing with what will become your only free hand for six weeks so when you goof it up, you can fix it with your other hand. I learned to apply makeup with my left hand. It doesn’t always come out well, especially lipstick, but that was true when I had two hands!

This is important, because you’re wearing clothes a size or two too large for you, and you have a giant black cast strapped to your side. You want to do what you can to attract attention to your face and feel like you’re not the centerpiece of a pity party.

Preparing for the Weeks Ahead

It seemed important to me to reduce the amount of work I would need to do the first couple weeks after surgery. I cooked up a big pot of vegetable stew. I make a pot of chili. I made a bunch of freezable sandwiches to take to work for lunch.

I finished the grapefruit, because whether you dig with a grapefruit spoon or peel and section, you cannot do either with only one hand.

I also changed light bulbs, scrubbed the bathtub, added some tweaks to the flower garden drip system and a dozen more things I knew no one else could or would do. Tightened the loose magnets on the kitchen cupboards, for example.

Cut, Clip, Remove

  • Get your hair cut shorter if that will make it more manageable for 6 weeks
  • Trim and file your finger and toenails—I used this as a fun mani-pedi opp with a girlfriend
  • Shave anything that could benefit from that

Abandon

Give up stuff you will not be able to easily continue with one hand, no matter how virtuous. The day before my surgery, I put the last jar of food scraps into the composting bin. The bin requires two strong arms and hands to open. Just not gonna compost for another month.

Became lax on recycling. Pulling (and pushing) are two activities you should not be doing with a torn rotater cuff. Don’t struggle to pull that molded plastic off the cardboard packaging. Some of it just has to go like it is or go to garbage.

The grounds are going to fade. For me, my excuse is It’s fall anyway, and the gardens are beginning to stop blooming, die back and go into winter mode. Truth is, with proper watering and deadheading, I could get two more weeks of lushness out of my summer’s project. While I can still do a bit of maintenance, and I love it, I’ve cut myself some slack, bearing in mind the fatigue of pain, and the extra long time it takes to do absolutely anything else—even putting the silverware away out of the dishwasher!

The Sling

I’d like to make a video of how to wear and put on/take off the sling, but I’m not yet clear on how to film this while demonstrating. And do we use audio or not? I used to do a lot of video editing, adding pointers and text, but do I remember how to do that? Is that software on my current computer, and do I have the time and energy?

Cross your fingers!

Odds and Ends

  • give up on the idea of wearing a bra
  • pullovers are difficult—you must not raise your arm, so skip them!
  • no zippers!
  • buy spray on deodorant
  • buy premade salads and other prepared foods—you don’t want to become a junkaholic, but most anything you can eat will sustain life for six weeks—I had to give up chef knives (which I love) because I’m no good with them in my left hand, but I have some serrated things from a store demo that will get me through a tomato or a bunch of fresh Swiss chard from my neighbor’s back yard.

Your comments below will help this post gain traction online so others who search—like I did!—can find some practical, no-nonsense ideas to help them through torn rotator cuff surgery. And please forward. Thank you.

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