FreshTalk

Several people have asked for my opinion of Ooma since I made the switch from a popular VOIP service. In general ... I am in love. In fact, even the little musical dial tone makes me feel happy. Pathetic, I know. But it's the little things in life!! Okay, details.

First, get the Ooma Telo. It has more capabilities than the Ooma Hub - especially for integration with Google Voice.

Setup - Setup was easy and I was up and running in less than 15 minutes. But, on the day that I installed my unit, the Ooma telephone number database was having trouble. So, I had to call Customer Care to set up my phone number. I chose to use a temporary number before committing to porting our home phone number from Vonage. After a week of using the service, I was hooked and began the process of porting our home number - it took about three weeks and finalized without a hitch. Until the number ported, I had to maintain our other VOIP service to "hold" our number for the porting process. A slight hassle, but the end was worth it. Also, make sure you setup your system properly - modem-Ooma-router. The Ooma Telo needs to be first on the connections with your modem to maximize their voice compression and adaptive redundancy technology.

Web Interface - The My Ooma site is awesome. It has a great user interface. Very easy to use for managing your account.

Phones - When we set up our old VOIP account, a friend fixed the telephone wiring in our house so that all of the phone jacks in the house would be active. With the VOIP service, we plugged the phone cord from their adapter device into a wall outlet in the room and then hooked up our cordless phone system with the base in the kitchen. The Ooma Telo works the same way. If your home wiring is setup like that, you can use the same sort of setup. Otherwise, you can hook your phone directly to the Ooma Telo.

Ooma Handset - Reviews are mixed. Cool factor is an instant second line with the Ooma handset - just pick it up while another phone is in use and you're supposed to get a dial tone. Negative reviews complain about a three-second lag in getting a dial tone and complaints about the LCD screen being dark. I returned my Ooma Handset because I didn't see the value over our existing phone system. I don't call other Ooma handset users, so I don't benefit from the digital quality and we simplly don't have the need for an instant second line - given the dominant use of our cell phones. The Ooma line is primarily used for my home office.

Call Clarity - I am very impressed. Call clarity is excellent. No matter what data I have running on my line, callers can hear me and I can hear them. Perfectly. On our old VOIP account, I was having terrible problems whenever my backups were running on my work laptop. Upstream data was clogging the line and people on the other end of the phone couldn't hear anything I said. When trying to solve this problem, the VOIP service and our cable internet company pointed fingers at each other. Then the cable company had the nerve to tell me that the firmware on my phones was the problem. Ummm ... my house phones don't have firmware upgrades available. We bought them in 2001? Anyway, with the Ooma Telo, data on my internet line no longer interferes with call clarity.

Ooma Premier - I don't see a way to NOT have this service. If you want conference call capabilities, Google Voice integration and other services like enhanced caller ID and their nifty 911 notification option (you can get text messages anytime someone dials 911 from your Ooma phone system) ... you have to have Ooma Premier. I think it's worth the $10/month. Far cheaper than other phone service options and you get SO MUCH MORE.

Voicemail - the Telo's voicemail system works fine, if you want an answering machine. I tested it a few times but really don't have much use for it over my Google Voice account.

Contacts - You can manage your phone's contact list online. You can also import from Google or other csv files. Neat feature if you use an Ooma Handset, otherwise useless. Note: When I imported my Google contacts, it only imported a random 118 of them, many others were missing. If you make changes to your Google contacts in Google and then want to update your Ooma contacts, you must first delete your existing Ooma contacts and then re-import your Google contacts all over. Otherwise, you end up with duplicates. And, the import process does not maintain any Labels/Groups you setup in Google for your contacts. You have to setup "new" groups in your Ooma Contacts account. There are very limited editing/control options on the My Ooma site for managing contacts. The Contacts tool is listed in Beta, so maybe more functionality will come later. For now, I am not using this feature.

Google Voice - If you follow the instructions here, GV will integrate seamlessly. Now, a few caveats. 1) I don't use Call Screening or the Listen In feature because my GV number serves as my office phone number. I'm pretty sure my boss wouldn't appreciate my use of these features. So, I had to configure my Ooma settings accordingly. As such, I can't attest to the associated functionality on the Ooma Telo but assume they work great since everything else does. 2) With the GV transcription e-mails and alerts on my Android phone, I have no use for listening to voicemail on my Ooma Telo device. However, I have tested it and it does work. Neat feature, just not one I see myself using. 3) I have my home phone number setup to multi ring my GV number. This ensures that I get all of my work calls on my cell phone when I'm away from the house. (Gosh I love my GV account!!)

Another thing to note about the GV Extensions. You might think, hey - if you're not going to use those features, why not just have your Ooma multi ring your home and GV number? Well, when the calls come in, the Ooma Telo voicemail picks up before GV voicemail. So, you lose the GV voicemail system. If you simply forward your home phone number to your GV number, the home phone does not ring when either number is called - even if it's setup on GV. So, you really have to use the GV Extensions and set it up exactly as they tell you in the article cited above. And, if you play with your settings, you have to give the system a few minutes to catch up. Immediately testing these options will give you false results and confuse your GV number and the Ooma Telo. You'll get phones ringing off the hook and the wrong voicemail box picking it up.

And - very cool features to have all outbound calls show your GV number on the caller ID or select to use your home number/GV number on a per call basis. My only concern about having my GV number as my outbound number has to do with calling 911. I can't find any documentation that says my GV number will be associated with our home address. So, I have not enabled this feature.

Ooma Mobile App - The app costs $10 and then you have to pay for minutes used. So not worth it, unless you travel out of the country.

Home Security Systems - A brief word about home security systems. Many of these systems require the use of a land line telephone. Before switching to any VOIP service check with your security company to ensure compatibility. In addition to some of the traditional companies, new online-only security companies like Next Alarm are emerging. If you choose a new security company, be sure to research their reputation to ensure they will meet your needs.

Overall, I'm extremely happy with my Ooma. For less than $15/month, you can't go wrong. And, for me as a heavy Google Voice user, the Ooma is an incredible companion device that has changed the way I use my "land line" phone.

--- Feb. 25 2009 ---

While trying to come up with topics to write about for this blog, it quickly became apparent that I should have a topic titled, "My friend Murphy." It seems that good ol' Murphy has a way of showing up in my life when I least expect him, when I least need him or when I apparently just need a good story to tell. Such was the case in September 2004 ...

It started off like a typical Saturday morning. My husband - let's call him Clark Kent - and I were enjoying a few extra hours of sleep and my 7-year-old cat was curled up next to me enjoying some snuggle time. But as we all began to stir from our slumber, we heard ... the noise. A scratching sound, somewhere in our room. Listening more carefully it became obvious that the sound was on my side of the room. Was it in the wall? Was it a Palmetto Bug? Something bigger? A lizard?

Given our uncertainty about the source of the scratching, we thought it best to lock the cat out of the bedroom while we investigated. You see, my dear Shelby is an expert hunter and he would certainly chase after anything we found, and neither one of us was in the mood to clean up lizard guts off our cream colored carpet.

With the cat safely out of the room, we began narrowing in on the source. It wasn't under the bed. It wasn't behind the laundry basket. It wasn't outside the window. But maybe ... yes. The noise was coming from under my nightstand.

Before we moved the nightstand to reveal the source of the scratching, Clark thought it would be good to have something to trap and catch the culprit. If it was a lizard, it would move pretty quickly and we didn't want to spend the day chasing it around our room. While AJ fetched the small plastic garbage can from our bathroom, I pulled the bed away from the wall to allow a second access point to my nightstand which was located almost in the corner of the room.

When he returned, Clark told me to move the nightstand slowly so he could watch for our visitor and capture it. As I started shifting the nightstand away from the wall, AJ's face paled and he sternly, yet quietly said, "Stop. Don't move. Don't speak."

Frozen in fear of what I couldn't see, I stared blankly at him.

"I want you to very carefully push the nightstand back against the wall so there is no gap."

Once this was done, I fearfully asked him what he had seen.

"A tail. A big, furry tail."

And with that, the scratching intensified.

While Clark secured the nightstand, I called our friendly Orkin man for assistance.

Upon his arrival, the Orkin man and my husband disappeared behind our closed bedroom door to meet our unwanted guest. A few minutes later, the Orkin man emerged with a squirrel securely held between the tongs of his "capture tool."

A squirrel? You've got to be kidding me!

Apparently, the squirrel had found its way into our house on Friday morning when Clark had the garage open. While Clark was outside, he had left the interior door to the house open into the garage. The squirrel, who we believe had been hit by a car, was seeking a quiet corner to die and found its way into our garage. While the door to the house was open, it had managed to find its way across the short hallway into our bedroom.

When I arrived home on Friday night, I noticed a number of strange dirt marks on our bedroom carpet, in our closet and in the master bath. I thought the cat had been sick or had gotten into my plants. I was perplexed by the mess, but cleaned it up and never gave it a second thought. Suddenly the dirt had a source - it was from the squirrel's travels throughout the day on Friday.

The most amazing thing about the squirrel's 24 hours in our house is the fact that our cat never seemed to know it was there. The cat and the squirrel had been alone in the house together all day on Friday. Surely if Shelby had found the squirrel, there would have been a fight. Thankfully, at that time, Shelby had been spending his days in the sunny windows on the other side of the house. Aside from sleeping in the same room on Friday night, the two never crossed paths.

March 21, 1997-Dec. 23, 2011

Today my family said goodbye to a dear friend, a kitty who has been an important thread in the fabric of our family since before we were a family. Here is just a small tribute from his Mommy’s heart. He will be dearly missed.

For the second time in just a few short years, I am faced with making a difficult decision. The first scenario was far more personal, and one I always thought that if presented with, my decision would be swift and without question. Until this week, my thoughts on the current dilemma were equally simple: My decision should be easy. The logic infallible. But, as I face the life or death of my dear Shelby – a 14.5 year old tabby cat who has developed intestinal cancer – I realize that all matters of the heart requiring hard decisions are never easy, and never meet your expectations when it comes to how you thought you'd handle said situation. Choices come with consequences. Good, and bad.

Two weeks ago we started chemotherapy, as a means to say, "at least we gave it a shot." But as I watch my thinning Kitty, Kitty spending most of his time sleeping or staring into space, I can't help but remember the precociously adorable little kitten that loved to dart out from under furniture or hanging clothes to attack my ankles. I remember his hunter skills and how quickly he trapped and injured the giant roach in my bedroom closet and then proceeded to torture the insect as it tried to escape his catch and release game. (You can bet the apartment manager got a phone call during this game!) And I remember the tender moments, late at night when I needed a friend, and he was there to stare at me as if listening intently to my every word – ready to give sage advice, or, well, a head butt or a tongue bath.

Of course, he is a cat. And so there were the times when, for example, he would sit in the living room with his back to me, as if to say, "Woman! I am tired of waiting on you. It's bedtime and I simply will not indulge you in any more attention until you go to bed."

These days, it's me looking for him at bedtime … and again in the morning, wondering if he passed during the night. The quiet and still kitty who was first fixated on the fleece blanket covering our couch and then my daughter’s bed is not the same kitty I've known for so many years. We have our tender moments, but his playful spirit is muted.

Growing Together

It amazes me how the relationships forged between people and their pets become undeniable. If you've ever had a cat or a dog, you understand this bond. Our pets are not just animals, they are family members we care for – or, in some cases, who care for us in ways people cannot.

My Shelby and I set off on this grand journey together when he was just a kitten. We moved from southeast Mississippi to Charleston, SC, ready to build my career and embrace the second half of my 20s. Together we went through loves and heartaches and moves from apartments to houses. When I married, the military took my husband away for months at a time. And so, Shelby was my constant companion – sitting on his scratching post next to the couch watching tv with me or snuggled up on my bed for many a lonely night. He was a silent partner bearing witness to my changing life, an ear that never tired of hearing my stories, a kitty offering what seemed like endless affection and purrs.

A "cool cat," he never made much fuss. Not too finicky, often exhibiting dog-like qualities, most everyone who got to know him thought he was "cool." Except, well, one particular roommate. You see, dear Shelby was also a good judge of character and he knew before me that this roommate was "crazy." He'd stalk her around the apartment and terrorize her while I was at work. But this was part of his protective personality.

My Shelby only needed to hear me holler in any way that resembled pain or fear, and he'd dart to my side, ready to defend me – even if it was just a tickle fight with my husband. Shelby's protective nature was something I relished. How cool is it that my cat is a Guard Kitty? This was all well and good, though, until our son was born. It took Shelby a day or two after we came home from the hospital to realize that the baby's cries were just what babies do, and not cries for help. Unfortunately my husband's scratched and bitten leg was the initiating element in this understanding. "Trish? I think we have a problem!" were the words yelled from the baby's bedroom.

And then there was the time his guard-like skills were not so observational. An injured squirrel made its way into our house, wandering around our master bedroom and bath all day while we were at work. As Shelby slept by my side that night, the squirrel found its way under my nightstand, where it set about to die – until we heard its scratching motions early the next morning. Oblivious to the intruder that had shared the house with him the previous day, Shelby sat straight up in bed that morning looking as confused as we were to the source of the sounds. Perhaps he was only good at protecting during "active attacks" and not pending ones ...

My Kitty, Kitty and I "grew up" together. Me growing from a post-college 25-year-old trying to find her passion into a working professional, and finally coming into my own as a "grown up" with family. He from a wee kitten I found under the house where I worked into a mature and wise cat, carefully watching over his domain from the top of the cat tree in the corner – always on alert, always cautious. We learned a lot from each other, we learned a lot together.

Companions for Life

It wasn't until he was 7 that we brought another kitty into the house. Afraid he'd reject her, we took every precaution at their introduction. But Shelby's heart prevailed and proved our fears unwarranted. In fact, the two quickly became inseparable, balancing each other's personality in a perfect ying and yang. I worry for the profound absence that will be felt in Clio's life without Shelby. She will surely be lost without her lifetime partner.

My sweet kitty, my "cool" cat has had a full life. He's never been sick and through all of our moves from Mississippi to South Carolina to New York and back south, he's never been lost. A good hider, yes. But never lost. He's been faithful and loyal, sweet and kind. Patient to a fault. And so this cancer that ravaged his frail body is also ravaging our hearts.

During this last week, I’ve known when I looked into his eyes that he saw his fate. Yet every night he faithfully jumped up on my bed to curl up literally on my chest so we could feel each other's heart beat and sleep most of the night nose-to-nose. While cats may not be able to speak, I’ve heard his words completely. "Thank you for our time, I'm ready to go. But don't forget, I love you."

** This is a cross post from the SodexoCareers blog **

"Why do they want to get rid of you?"

This was my mother’s reaction to my first Talent Review meeting with my supervisor. Each year, Sodexo managers meet with their direct reports to talk about their professional interests and goals. The conversation focuses on the employee’s skills, possible advancement opportunities within the company and the skills needed to be able to successfully compete for those positions.

The outcome of this meeting is a plan that includes classes and/or conferences and seminars – along with other key directives – that will help the employee prepare for his or her next career move within the company. For instance, opportunities for job shadowing and mentoring are offered. And, stretch assignments can be assigned to help build leadership or technical skills. What a great way to really learn, hands-on!

But, my mom is a Baby Boomer. She’s retiring this year after working the same job for nearly 40 years. Like others in her generation, she values hard work and her job has defined much of her adult life. In fact, when she submitted her retirement papers she said to me, “What will I do? I’ve never not worked.”

For me, as a Gen Xer with Gen Y tendencies, I’ve held several different jobs over the past 20 years – each progressing me forward in my search for the best fit. Along the way I’ve gained valuable skills and sought the company where I felt at home, where I could grow my career while caring for my family, a place that would value my skills yet help me achieve a greater work-family balance.

At Sodexo, I have seemingly found a great fit. Not only am I fortunate enough to work from home and avoid all the stress of my former commute, but my boss is keenly interested in recognizing my skills and my potential. She wants to see me succeed and plays an active role in pushing me towards my potential.

Throughout my mom’s career she has had good bosses and bad. She’s had some encourage her interests in taking college courses and others who have questioned her every move. It’s no surprise that she’s developed an instinct to question authority when changes are encouraged or, often, insisted upon in her role. After all, there could be some motive behind those actions.

So when I explained to my mom that the Talent Review process is actually an extremely positive and proactive approach towards managing my career, she felt a little better. I clarified for her that our conversation about other possible positions in the company is not intended as a means to “get rid of me,” but more of a development tool to find the path for my future career.

Still, she’s my mom. And she worries. And I often sigh into the phone, “Mom, everything is fine. Stop worrying!” But, one day, I’m sure I’ll have the same conversation with my children who will tell me not to worry. Just don’t tell my mom. In the meantime, I feel optimistic about my future at Sodexo – knowing that my options are nearly limitless. 

** This is a cross post from the SodexoCareers blog **

Halloween is quickly becoming a favorite holiday in our house. We have a 5-year-old little boy and an almost 3-year-old little girl. They love to dress up. In fact, my son’s police costume from last year has yet to see the eternal graveyard of the closet. It’s a good thing I bought it a size too big!

While costumes are fun, they can foreshadow unforeseen opportunity. In college, I held several part-time jobs to earn enough money to pay my phone bill and car insurance, and to have some extra money for the weekends. One of those jobs was monitoring sports study halls – my job was to make sure the students assigned to my room were present and they did their homework. I also provided some tutoring help.

Each night I received my student roster from another proctor who monitored a study hall in a room just down the hall from mine. John was a few years older, and I thought he was sooo cute. But I was shy. And I got nervous each night just collecting my roster from him.

Then came Halloween. With some quick thinking, and encouragement from friends, I pulled together a Little Red Riding Hood costume with a modest red dress, a cape and a picnic basket. I baked some chocolate chip cookies and headed off for study hall – my heart pounding the whole time.

When I walked in the door, I immediately wanted to leave. All the boys in the room started snickering. John simply smiled and accepted the cookies. Looking back, I think he knew about my “secret” crush. But he was a gentleman, and ever gracious. While his interests were elsewhere, he never made me feel bad and we worked together quite well for the rest of the school year.

After college, I did some temp work and landed a four-month position as a receptionist for an insurance company. The agents at the office loved Halloween and everyone dressed up for the “big day.” So, I pulled out the old red dress and arrived at work with a basket full of cookies. I was a very popular receptionist that day, refusing to give out my cookie recipe.

Over the coming weeks, I experimented with other recipes for baked goods to bring to the office. Before long, I had several requests for cakes that people wanted to bring home for the holidays. It seemed my love for baking might actually be something lucrative!

But, life takes you down many paths. My love for baking is still just that, a love. Still, I have grand dreams for a bakery. I’ve even designed the logo. Who would have thought a simple Halloween costume would ignite a passion and possible career opportunity? What costume will you wear this year? Does it offer insight into your future career?

When I was little, there was a girl down the street who was much older – probably all of 17 years old. I remember watching her walk up and down the street with her "grown up" friends, yearning to be so grown up and to ride the school bus just like she did. But, those days quickly came and went, and before long I even had my very own driver’s license and could drive myself to school.

But as time went by, the yearning changed. After 16, I desperately wanted to be 21. As one of the youngest in my college class, it seemed I was destined to miss out on hanging out at the bars and clubs where my friends were every weekend. Before long, 21 also came and went. So did 25.

Turning 30 wasn't really a big deal. While it seemed like a giant leap into an era that was certainly expected to be more grown up than my 20s, I simply didn't feel all that grown up yet. Although, I did note that the number of colleagues who were "39 and holding" seemed to be growing. Still, 39? Ahh! That still seemed a lifetime away.

This weekend, I turned 39.

I’m not sure I’ll have anniversaries of my 39^th birthday as so many others do; mostly because age really hasn't bothered me. In fact, it's always been just a number silently following along with the passing of the years. At various points in time, I even had to do the math to figure out my age when asked. It just wasn’t a top priority for me to remember.

Still, as 39 has become a reality, it means that 40 isn't that far away. And how is it possible that this "middle age" era has crept up on me when all this time I thought I was still somewhere around 25?

Age is a funny thing. Some people have full blown anxiety attacks over the numbers as they get larger. Others, like my husband, simply never thought they’d ever be "this old." They’ve become so good at living life in the moment, that they couldn't visualize getting older.

For me? While my mind continues to feel quite young, my body is slowly dropping hints that 25 really was a long time ago. But I welcome the coming of the years. Each one brings new experiences – from getting married to having children and watching them grow, to changes in my career and personal growth opportunities. For me, age is not so much about a number – but more about living life.

I can't say I've ever been very spontaneous. Nor have I run with reckless abandon into nearly anything in my life. (Just ask my close friends who have seen the spreadsheets detailing the options related to many of the big purchases and decisions in my life!) But looking at 39 and realizing that 40 and all those other "big" numbers are getting closer, I see this as a time to really embrace life and all that it has to offer.

39 and holding? I don’t think so. Bring on the years and the experiences yet to come. While I may not welcome the wrinkles or the creaking of my bones, the best of life is yet to come!

With school starting up over the next few weeks for many of us, I thought this was a fun post to move here.

--- March 30, 2010 ---

I grew up on the same street as our elementary school. This was both a blessing and a curse - as there were no excuses for being late, but we also had access to a fully equipped playground nearly any time we wanted.

From the swings to the monkey bars to the giant metal slide that burned our legs under the summer sun, we'd spend hours running, jumping and making up games. We made friends. We laughed. And above all, we didn't think about homework or any other chores that had to be done. We simply had fun.

I was reminded of these days when I dropped off my son at his nursery school this morning. In the cool spring air that promised to warm later in the day, the squeals and cheers that came from just 12 children on the playground echoed against memories from days long ago gone.

In my mind I can still hear the melodious roar of recess at my elementary school. In fact, anytime you're on our street during lunch you can hear the waves of chatter punctuated with screams and squeals of delight rolling through the air nearly a block away.

Lunch time is far less exciting these days. There are no games, no thrills to see who can swing the highest and no acrobatics on the pull-up bar or the make-shift balance beam. Instead, lunch is usually rushed in an attempt to get back to work and complete one more task.

I wonder what the impact would be on our day, on our mood, on our productivity - if we did something fun for lunch instead of downing a sandwich at our desk or racing in and out of a restaurant that promises a meal in under 30 minutes.

As our days continue to warm into summer, I challenge you to go to recess. Get outside. Go for a walk. Maybe even find a playground and sit on a swing. Who knows what the impact might be on the rest of your day.

I've decided it's time to dust off the keyboard and breathe new life into my blog; it's been stagnant for far too long. To get things started, I thought I'd migrate some older posts from a long-ago abandoned blog here, to my FreshTalk Posterous blog. I hope you enjoy them!

--- June 9, 2009 ---

When I pulled up to my son's daycare this morning, he immediately started bouncing in his seat, pointed out the window and began chanting, "Mr. Mike!! It’s Mr. Mike!!" I looked around, trying to find the source of my child's excitement and saw the maintenance man walking around the outside of the building, a ladder over his shoulder. As we walked up to the building hand-in-hand, my son beamed at me as though he was about to introduce me to his best friend.

What is it about school custodians that excite young children so much? I remember when I was young, our elementary school’s janitor was a hero - a legend who could fix nearly any problem, or at least that's what we thought when we looked up at him. Spilled your lunch? Mr. Davonski could clean it up. Broken chair? Mr. Davonski had a replacement. Fight in the hall? Mr. Davonski (and the gym teacher) would break it up. Need to learn a lesson about doing the right thing? Mr. Davonski had a story or a chore to help you along. Need a friend to let you back into the building because you forgot your book bag? Again, Mr. Davonski.

As we got older and moved on to junior high, it was the lunch lady who became our hero. For me, it turns out, the lunch lady was Mr. Davonski's wife. And boy did we all love her on pizza Fridays! She kept us well fed and sometimes gave us a little extra just to be nice.

The interesting thing that happens, though, is that as we get older we lose our fascination with those who provide some of these basic services. We get lulled into a state of expectation and often don't notice when these people are there, only when they're not. We take them for granted and often forget to say thank you.

My parents worked hard to teach us about values and earning your way up the corporate ladder, so to speak. When money got tight, my dad took on odd jobs - one of which was the custodian for our church. Since mom worked evenings, dad had to bring me and my sister with him on his cleaning night. Rather than let us play out on the church's playground, we were given tasks to complete: dust the pews, clean the little windows on the interior doors and clean the bathrooms. Of course dad was also the grand inspector when we were through. But each week we dutifully completed our tasks with hopes for a stop at 7-eleven on the way home for a slurpee.

Helping dad clean the church taught us that no task is beneath us, and that when times get tough we all have to chip in. We also learned that the volume dial on the church organ is a very important knob not to touch. But, as long as my sister and I made it through the night without arguing, my dad always made a point to thank us for doing our part.

These days many of us find ourselves racing through our day just hoping to make it out alive. Budgets are tighter than ever, we're taking on more responsibilities and the higher ups expect us to get it all done, on time and under budget. We're lucky to connect with our colleagues, let alone even notice those who support us by providing a clean office, a safe parking lot, bottles of water for the cooler and snacks in the machines.

My days are often spent hunched over a keyboard with my face fixated on the monitor – oblivious to those wandering the halls around me. But today I got to leave a little early thanks to our summer flex schedule. So I raced to my son's daycare, anxious to spend a few extra minutes with him. As I stepped out of the car, I heard the hum of a lawn mower. Walking up to the toddler playground, I watched as five little people raced back and forth along the fence while Mr. Mike expertly maneuvered his ride-on mower around the fence. As I got closer, I heard the chorus cheering, "Mr. Mike!! Mr. Mike!!"

I wonder what the world would be like if we all did a little more cheering for the heroes in our workplaces. Surely there are days Mr. Mike dreads having to get on that mower. But I'm willing to bet those beaming faces of adoration and the accompanying chorus make his day just a little brighter.

I went shopping last night to find the "perfect" outfit for an upcoming event. As I floated through the departments selecting numerous items to try on, I didn't look at a single price tag. After all, almost everything was on sale and I had a 20 percent off coupon. I didn't feel my usual need to price check each item before taking it off the rack, and strictly based my decisions on each item's appearance. After a trip to the dressing room with arms heavily laden, I finally settled on a pants set and a skirt that I just loved. The skirt was perfect.

After handing my selections to the sales clerk, I proudly passed my coupon to her expecting that I'd get a great deal. Instead, she squarely looked at me and said, "Oh, these items here don't qualify for the coupon." Of course they don't. "And, you do realize they're not on sale? This item here costs ..." You're kidding me, right? As I stood there in shock, blankly looking at the sales clerk, this little voice piped up in my head, "You know you want that skirt. You fell in love with it the moment you saw it. It's perfect ..." With a deep breath and a hard swallow, I handed over my credit card, silently muttering to that voice in my head, "I've never spent that much money on a single item before!" Still, when I got home and tried everything on for my husband, he affirmed my decision. "That looks nice. The skirt is perfect."

Sometimes, maybe special events do justify shopping with reckless abandon. Once in a while.

I borrowed my husband's GPS to help me get to a meeting last night. When I noticed on the way home that it stated I should arrive at 8:48 p.m., I had this urge to see if I could beat the clock, prove the GPS wrong. Surely I could get home before then, right? About an hour into my trip, a little construction and traffic had me lagging by two whole minutes. But once the road opened up, I shaved those two plus another three minutes off my trip. Certainly not a record-breaking race, but I was winning right? Then two stop lights near our house took away all the glory. I got home at 8:49. Do you ever try to beat the GPS?