The Nightly Collapse

I did it again. I do it every night. And every night I try to talk myself out of it. In four brief seconds from the time I close the kids’ bedroom door to the time I round the corner and reach the guest bed, I manage an entire conversation with myself arguing for and against the urge to collapse on the bed.

The conversation goes something like this: “Do NOT lie down on the bed. You have WAY too much to do.” “But I have to. I’m SOOO tired. Who cares anyway? This is ridiculous. Nobody in their right mind would be working these kind of hours.” “You have to get to work. You’ve already outlined tonight’s work for Client X. If you don’t do it tonight, you’ll start out tomorrow behind.” “Client X doesn’t care anyway. What’s one more day?” “Fine, lie down then. Just do it. Then see how you feel.”

And I almost always feel worse. Then I lie there and continue the conversation with myself about which housekeeping chores can wait ‘til tomorrow and which ones I will hate myself for leaving undone. If I am really on top of things, I will have already picked up the living room disaster, cleaned the kitchen, and folded the laundry. But unfortunately, that day would be an exception to the rule.

At just 7:30pm, or sometimes as late as 8:30, I already feel as though I’ve been hit by a train. By the time I get the kids in the bed to stay, I’m too tired to think about anything, much less do anything. So when I see the big white bed calling, I just cannot resist the urge to lie down. It doesn’t help that it is two feet away from the computer desk. I almost always intend to sit down in the desk chair, but I seldom actually make it that far. Two feet is a lot to ask after all that I go through in a day’s time.

But on the average night, I talk myself into getting up, fixing a cup of hot chocolate or tea, and settling down to a nice evening of computer radiation. And I’m always glad I did. The late night work really keeps me going. And indeed the very occasion to choose whether or not I work is a blessing in and of itself. I mean, really. I don’t have to do any of this. My clients don’t mind waiting for me. (If they did, they wouldn’t hire me in the first place.) I could just sit and watch TV if I really wanted to. Or not.

I Am Not a Nerd

Nov, 24 2007
By Heather Kate
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I’m not your stereotypical nerd. I don’t wear funny glasses (unless my contacts are bothering me). I don’t know much about computers (except how to hand-code websites and integrate them into content management systems). And I do not own pocket-protectors (I don’t need them since I have a Blackberry.)

In fact, most of the time I feel pretty dumb. Like when I have to sync my ipod or reset the wireless router. Those are tasks that totally escape me when it finally comes time to do them again. And what is up with the Apple wireless mouse? It won’t work if you drop it and the batteries shake a little. You have to open it up and stick ‘em back in right.

Being the non-nerd that I am, I, along with my math-genius husband, became dumbfounded when the mouse stopped working the other night. We both thought it was the crazy computer. It was comPLETELY unresponsive. Finally we had to shut the thing down with the little power button and start it back up again. That didn’t work. We tried it again holding down a command key or something, and that didn’t work either. Finally, we got just the right combination of buttons to get the computer to spring back to life, and it completely lost all memory of my email accounts and the several hundred fairly-important email messages contained therein. The dock also forgot my favorite programs, although all of the files on my desktop are still present and all of my personal settings remain the same throughout the computer. Craziest thing!

We did, finally, figure out that the MOUSE was the source of the frustration, but NOT soon enough to get all of that mail back. I mean, where in the world is it? I have no idea what I’m doing working with this big honkin’ iMac (Fuji), but this is one of those times I’m questioning my platform-switch. For the first time in three months, since Fuji entered the family, have I looked back at my PC (Dell) with fond admiration. Dell’s getting a little up in years, and he just couldn’t handle the stress I put him through on a weekly basis. Other than the uncomfortable mouse incident, Fuji has treated me very well in my graphic pursuits. Well, except for the eye-strain issue.

Are there any correct ergonomics for working in front of a 24-inch sunlamp? Even after dimming the screen, boosting my chair up, and scooting back a little, my eyes have to squint to survive the rays. You know, I hadn’t thought about sunglasses, but that might be a good option. Then I DEFinitely won’t be a sterotypical nerd.

An Empty Egg Carton

I usually don’t think anything about an empty egg carton. I just throw it in the trash can. Unless, of course, it is handed to me by my 2 1/2-year-old daughter on the cosmetic aisle of Wal-mart.

I knew better than to go to the zoo in the first place. I’ve had grocery-shopping on my to-do list for three solid days now. I had planned to go by Tuesday at the latest, so that I could avoid all the idiots that wait until the last minute to buy the ingredients for their Thanksgiving Day feasts. But, as usual, I, being the chief idiot, put it off until 7:00pm on Turkey Day Eve. Not just that, but I waited until my husband went on an all-day deer-hunt so that I could take my wild hoodlums with me just before bedtime.

Procrastination at It’s Finest

For three days I’ve been trying to make my menu and grocery list, complete with the ingredients to make a broccoli and squash casserole and pecan pie to take to our friends’ house for the big meal. Somehow I have misplaced the latest issue of Southern Living, which has FIVE pecan pie recipes from which I had planned to choose. Perhaps it got lost when Bill and I moved every single item in our house for a grand two-day carpet cleaning episode, which we have put off for…well…I’m too embarrassed to admit how long. Those two days, which would be…yes…THIS week, have gotten my brain so turned upside down that I haven’t been able to think straight. I still haven’t unpacked all the goods I had packed up for the open house party last Sunday, either. So by the time I dug my way to the top of the furniture pile, it was already the day before Thanksgiving, and I still hadn’t finished the grocery list, much less done the dirty deed itself.

I spent the entire day poring over recipes and looking through the cabinets, in between child-rearing and house-keeping duties nonetheless, and finally, by noon, had a list I could shop from. I thought surely Bill would be home soon after, so I put Hunter down for a nap thinking I could go with just one child in tow. My phone was not getting any service for some crazy reason, so I couldn’t receive any text messages from Bill that let me know he was going to be out until after dark. By dinnertime I realized I would have to take both kids with me AFTER dinner to the craziest place on the face of the earth at the worst possible moment in time. After all, I had computer work to do as soon as I put them to bed. I couldn’t put it off any later.

Where’s My List?

We suited up in our winter gear, because our 80-degree days dropped to the 30s with wind yesterday. With surprising happiness, we bee-bopped our way merrily into the store armed with a buggy and a two-column shopping…”um…has anybody seen my list?” I asked, digging in pockets and through my tiny purse. Surely not. Surely on the most important grocery run of the year I did not leave my list at home. At this hour. And with these kids. And after I spent an entire day working on this LIST. But no list. And as chicken as I am, I was more willing to brave the grocery store with nothing but my failing memory than to journey back out into the blasting cold with my little ones to see if I left it in the car.

Two aisles down, my phone started ringing calypso music, and I thanked God that Bill would care enough to call me at such a moment. Before I told him of the list issue he had already offered to come help me! A few minutes later, Bill showed up with the list, took Will and headed off to pick up his share of groceries. Hunter and I kept on pushing our way through the masses, grateful to not have an extra body hanging off the buggy. After rescuing the coffee can just before the grounds hit the floor and grabbing the nearly-opened breadcrumbs amidst the stifled laughs of other grocery-shoppers, I was ready to pull my hair out by the time I headed across to pick up some Dimetapp.

Where are the Eggs?

On the way back to the register, I had the bright idea to grab a lip pencil since mine seems to have disappeared, even though I had no idea what color to get. I was just celebrating my ability to choose a neutral color in record time when Hunter handed me the empty carton of eggs. Oh…m’gosh. “WHERE are the eggs?” Hunter just looked at me curiously and leaned over to show me all the eggs in the buggy. I was so not happy to see egg running down all over my gigantic buggy full of holiday groceries. So many times I have moved and moved and moved again the egg carton. EVERY shopping trip. EVERY week. I keep on moving the eggs to keep them out of Hunter’s reach and still have them high enough to not get squished so as to avoid such a situation, and the night of all nights–the NIGHT before Thanksgiving–Hunter dumps 18 eggs all over my buggy.

Wipe, Clunk.

When I lugged us up to the checkout, the checkout lady saw my carton and immediately handed me a plastic bag and a roll of paper towels. Do you think she’s seen that happen before? Bill and I each took turns picking up each item, one a time, and wiping it off before placing it on the conveyor belt. Wipe, clunk. Wipe, clunk. “No, Hunter you can’t have the goldfishies.” Wipe, clunk. “Will, put down the flashlight. No, you can’t have a car. We don’t need toys, we just spent five billion dollars on groceries. Besides, Santa is coming soon. Let’s ask him for that.” Wipe, clunk.

And then it all had to be toted into the house and find a home after being disinfected. At bedtime.

Bell-bottom Blues

Nov, 13 2007
By Heather Kate
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There are things in life that are worse than shopping for new jeans. But not very many. I can’t believe I actually looked forward to getting a new pair of jeans today. I know I’ve been jeans-shopping in the past few years; I have at least 25 pairs hanging in my closet. But today’s experience was so miserable that I felt like it was the first time in 10 years.

I’m not exactly sure how I cannot fit into any of my four different size choices already in my closet, while the pair I bought is right smack in the middle of all of those sizes. I guess it’s a combination of outdated styles paired with the shrinkage factor that makes my nose wrinkle when I’m standing so hopelessly in the middle of my closet. That, and the fact that my body got rearranged after birthing two children. I really was quite satisfied with it before.

So I brought my little stash of cash to the city with the plan to buy one pair of jeans, one pair of shoes, and a silver necklace. I had secretly hoped to have a little left over to either buy another one of the aforementioned items, or even to stick back in my Macbook Pro savings envelope, which yet remains empty. After one look at the low-rise cuts in the juniors’ section, I headed straight back out of the department store and into my second favorite clothier–Ann Taylor. (My first favorite is Harold’s, which I just realized this summer.) I was a little sticker-shocked at nearly a hundred bucks a pair, but I had the cash, and I was desperate for some good-fitting jeans. But no such luck. The only cut I liked this go round was the only one they didn’t have in my size. Bummer.

If I had had all day, I would have just enjoyed the adventure of hunting for a stylish cut of denim that fit my body and my pocketbook. But no–I had my little ring-tale-tooter slinging raisins everywhere and swinging the DoodlePro around the wheels of the stroller. And not to mention a husband and son wondering around the mall and coming back in FORTY-FIVE minutes. That’s not even long enough to make it to the dressing room with an armload of jeans while wielding an umbrella stroller and swatting a two-year-old one-handed!

So I slapped back on the flared jeans I was wearing from my college days and headed back down to the women’s section of the department store. I am a woman, after all. Seeing the word Missy on my clothing gives me cold chills, but hey–my hips aren’t exactly the junior version they once were. Once I got there, I immediately felt panic creeping up my middle. There were no less than 200 different styles to choose from, none of them familiar to me. Why had I not just journeyed down to my tried and true Gap, or hopped in the car for Old Navy? But no–thirty minutes left, and still no boots or silver necklace either. It was do or die.

Fifteen pairs of jeans later I finally put on one that fit the bill, and you’ll never believe how much they were–$35!! I have NEVER. I just knew I’d have enough left for at least two pairs of shoes. The rest of the shopping trip went really down hill, since my narrow, painful feet usually require mountain-sized piles of empty shoe boxes, shoe stuffing scattered everywhere, and one or maybe two frustrated salesmen. And I had only 10 minutes left. After a whirlwind of shoe-shopping, I proceeded to buy the most expensive pair of shoes I have EVER owned.

Given enough time, I could have shopped around town and bought three good pairs of shoes for that. But also given that I had 10 minutes before I left civilization again, I chose to purchase the really nice shoes that FIT, rather than go home with nothing but money. What good is it laying in an envelope anyway? So I was really grateful for those thirty-five-dollar jeans. The price made the experience a little less painful.

Digital Organization

A couple of days ago I blogged about my weekly planning system. I really love paper, and I like that I can see it without logging in to anything. My biggest gripe about it, though, is that you can’t delete it and start over if it gets messy. You have to re-write it. At least I do. No amount of pencil-erasing would get it for me. Once the list gets messy, I completely re-make it so my brain stays clear of distractions. On a day with lots of unexpected tasks, I’ll easily end up with three brand new to-do lists before my head hits the pillow.

Backpack

So it makes sense that I, being so digital and all, would want to organize my life online. And I do, to some extent. My most used digital tool for organization is Backpack, published by 37signals. (I’ve blogged about this before, and I’d like to just be linking to my first post about it, but that is one that is stuck in that nice little zipped up file on my desktop from my WordPress blog.) BackPack is an online service that provides a central place to create and store to-do lists, files (my favorite), notes, pictures, you name it. You can create several pages, depending on which plan you subscribe to, and you can even share any of your pages with specific people.

Pages

I create pages based on special projects, web clients, or events that need to be organized. On client pages, I can share the page with the client, and we can share files back and forth that we are working on for the project. My dad and I frequently meet each other at my Backpack page to exchange files quickly instead of emailing them. And I love being able to sit down at the laptop away from home without worrying which file for the project is where. It’s like having a thumb drive, without the thumb drive. File storage is one of my favorite things about Backpack.

Writeboards

Another useful tool on Backpack is the writeboard. A writeboard is a collaborative tool that multiple people can use to post their ideas on the same topic. It looks sort of like a whiteboard, which one of my friends actually calls it all the time, and when several users work on a writeboard, it tracks changes that were made by each user. My local Southern Living at Home team uses a writeboard to keep up with our party schedules. We each update the writeboard when we schedule a party, documenting the date, consultant, hostess and her circle of friends or workplace. That way we know if one of us has a party with a teacher at one school in a particular week, we should try not to schedule a party with another teacher at that same school during the same week. The writeboard is a great way for us to all have successful businesses without feeling like we’re in each other’s way.

Simplicity

Backpack has been an essential part of my journey toward simplifying my life. Keeping all of my to-do lists in once place has eliminated the need for sticky notes all over my desk and kitchen. The software is extremely easy to use, even for the computer novice. I whole-heartedly recommend that you try Backpack for your own organization. Be sure to enter my referrer code: BPSMZSM. Once you do, let me know what you like best about it.

A Week in Advance

People often ask me how I do everything I do. Usually, I answer with something silly, like, “I don’t sleep much,” “I never watch TV,” or “My house doesn’t stay very clean.” But really, I get plenty of sleep, and while I don’t watch much TV at all, my house is relatively clean and neat most of the time. While I was talking with a friend this week, I realized how indeed I do fit everything in.

Planning

Planning. A week in advance. I have my clipboard I made with bright red and creamy white patterned Stampin’ Up papers stuck to my refrigerator door. On the clipboard is a stack of papers that I created with lined sections for each day of the week. On Sunday evening, I make a list of everything I want to accomplish in a week. Everything from housecleaning chores to errands to web work to Southern Living at Home calls to music class planning to waxing my eyebrows–everything makes it on the list.

Thinking

Then I logically think through each day of the week and decide where each task will fit in the best. For each day, I write each task in the order I will attempt to accomplish it. I consider such things as how long the task will take, whether or not I can do it with kids around, and whether there is a specific place in the schedule it can slide without affecting the rest of the schedule. I waste very little time.

Multi-tasking

Most days I have a task or two, like menu- and grocery-list-making, that I keep handy for when I’m waiting in the pick-up line at school or in a drive-through line. Some days you might even find me studying my Spanish verbs at a time like that. All of my little chores I squeeze into tight little time spaces so that no time goes unused. For instance, I usually clean my bathroom counter, mirror and toilet once or twice a week while the kids play in the tub after I bathe them.

Monthly Planning

When it comes to work tasks, like SLAH parties and web or writing clients, I actually plan the work out a month in advance. I grab my little party calendar and evaluate each week, setting reasonable goals for each job and jotting down one or two specific tasks to work on each day to accomplish the big goal(s) for that job during that month. Right now, I already have my work planned through the end of November, and while I haven’t planned out December yet, I already know which project I plan to work on.

Flexibility

Of course, life seldom goes how I actually plan it, and a billion extra tasks get added in each day on the spur of the moment. But if I don’t have a plan for how to attack life head-on, I could never run two businesses and a household, teach a music class, and still enjoy my time with my husband and children. The plan works, most of the time, and I LOVE crossing things off that list as I do them. By the end of the week, though, I have to transfer my to-do list to my little spiral notebook that goes everywhere, because the list gets too messy for me to think straight anymore.

Digital Tools

While I love my paper system and couldn’t live without it, I also use some digital tools alongside it to help me manage all the details. I’ll write about those later this week. In the meanwhile, I’ve got some planning to do!

The First Winter

I saw a red tree today. You may find it funny for me to mention that on a crisp November day. But in a place where trees are too scarce to mention, finding one with leaves other than green ones is a rare and special treat. I had almost forgotten it was fall. Every now and then, we have a nice cool day smushed up in between a hot one and a freezing one. And today was one of those days. It has taken me several years to get used to the fact that there can actually be a place in the world that is completely void of some of my favorite things in life–a long stretch of cool fall weather, brilliant displays of colorful trees in October, and crunchy paths to kick through in November.

Haul It In

At first I was fooled by the town’s disguise. As soon as Wal-mart puts out Christmas candy, everyone starts dumping truckloads of hay bails, pumpkins, and scarecrows all over their front lawns. I thought, “How charming! The people are so into fall!” But I soon realized the hard and ugly truth: the only way we will ever see fall color is to buy it and haul it in. We go straight from hundred-degree weather morning, noon and night to 30s and 40s in the mornings. No kidding. In two weeks time we’re boxing up the shorts and donning flannel. And that’s why I’ve begun to call fall in the southwest The First Winter. The few leaves that we do have go into shock the first morning they wake up frozen, and instead of morphing us into what the rest of the world calls autumn, they turn brown and jump off the trees. You will find a token Japanese Maple or two as you drive down Main Street, but really you have to kind of stare pretty hard and squint your eyes to get any real “fall color” to pop out of the landscape.

But at least we have the pumpkins. The First Winter, where we wake up to frozen windshields but bask in the afternoon sun, sort of breaks us in for the harder Second Winter, where frostbite threatens at the very thought of setting foot outdoors. I shudder at the thought of what is quickly approaching. I guess I should be relishing in this colorless fall after all.

Heather Kate Officially Launches

Nov, 10 2007
By Heather Kate
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It’s been a LONG time in coming, but HeatherKate.com is officially LIVE. I’m finally back to the blogoshpere, and this time hopefully to stay. If you haven’t seen the new site, take a minute to check it out. Today is a brand new day in my web-life.

I can hear you asking now–”Who the heck is Heather Kate?” Well, it’s me–the Heather you know turned officially insane by mommy-hood, moonlight web-designing, small-town isolation, or maybe a combination of them all. Whatever I am, and whoever I have become, I am enjoying life like crazy, and I’m basking in the complexity of my simple life.

What are you talking about?

Ahhhh…simple. Yes, the idealistic resolution I made in January…was it two years ago? If you’re one of my blogging friends, you probably remember the journey to simplify my life. I’m not on that journey any more. I made a decision plain and SIMPLE. Life is TOO MUCH fun to not enjoy it to the fullest. I’m livin’ big and livin’ loud (at least when I’m singing in my car), and I’m simply doing whatever the Lord leads me to do. And right now, he has led me to be, um…UNsimple.

So. Here we are, with this brand new website. “Where are all the archived journal entries? The categories all seem to be empty!!” you’re saying. They are all bundled up in one cute little tar.gz file that I have absolutely no idea what to do with. I have built this site into Expression Engine, which I’m loving, but I have yet to figure out exactly how to merge a WordPress blog into my EE blog. But have no fear, Heather Kate is here! If I didn’t know what HTML and CSS and FTP and domains and hosting were four years ago, I can figger this one out too!

And with that, I’ve got some blogging to do! Catch ya later!