This morning there was a note on the computer table:

"MOM

Proofread essay -- conclusion ideas?
Laundry
Optometrist appt.

Any time you can in between work sessions.

PLEASE

THANKS"

It was signed by #2 son. Yesterday when he got home (he and his dad arrive home at the same time, usually about an hour before I'm ready to quit working), he started in asking me to do these things and bringing up various questions, and I think I was not useful. I started with the absent though pleasant response, and then when he was more insistent I said things like, "What?" and made some slight efforts to pay attention, and then when he continued, I got cross.

Yesterday I went to the gym, did my blogs, went to meet with a new client, got back to find messages from several other clients (one signed the contract so I'll be writing her website this week, one has gone viral so I'm trying to help her take advantge of it but she seems to be on a cruise still, stuff like that), quickly responded so I could get out to the web design class, and then came home to try to finish up my Dark Art Lite people before rehearsal.

As it happened, there was no rehearsal. I sat down with the menfolks and watched a movie. #2 son did not broach the subject of laundry and optometrists again, though.

I will try, today, to do the things on his list and to finish work about when they get home, but I honestly don't see why they can't just pretend that I'm in a Cone of Silence for a while in the afternoons.

The web design class was interesting. It was in the art department, but they're going to code their designs, which I wasn't expecting. I didn't want to spoil the experience of asking a client questions, so I didn't volunteer much, just answered what they asked. But I did mention a couple of things about usability and search. Their teacher had been reading a book on search engine optimization, and said there were people called "search engine optimists." I think that's a great name for practitioners of the Dark Art.

Now, getting to the class required walking up hundreds of stairs, first from the parking lot to the main level of the campus and then to the third floor of the art building. I had to stop and catch my breath. I also found that 30 minutes on the treadmill at 3.2 for speed and 3.5 for incline felt like a serious workout. I have clearly become a lot less fit as I've turned into a computer guy. I think it's reversible, though.  Back to the gym this morning.

Michael Pollan, one of the most elegant popular science writers around, advises that we eat real food, mostly from plants. No huge surprise there, right?

But then he goes on to tell some surprising things. For example, did you know that in 1973, food processing companies lobbied successfully to remove the law that required them to label fake foods as "imitation"? Or that the causal connection between saturated fat and heart disease is actually only provable as a connection between meat-eating and heart disease, but the meat industry managed to get the claims changed to focus on a nutrient instead of the food they produce?

So far, the book is on economics, marketing, and the power of language to alter our view of reality, all interesting topics to me.

I did eat mostly real food from plants for breakfast and lunch, but then I made a practice cake. It was a disappointment.

It was supposed to be a lovely spice cake with caramel glaze and bourbon-laced whipped cream, not to mention pretty sugar snowflakes. The picture in the cookbook was just so gorgeous you wouldn't believe it.

I decided that even though I don't have any bourbon, the Grand Marnier from last year would work for the practice, measured out two tablespoons of it, sprinkled unflavored gelatin onto it, and went on to the other steps.

When I turned back to the gelatin, it was as solid as plastic. I put it in the microwave and warmed it up -- and within seconds it boiled over and made sparks. I tried to beat it into cream and sugar as instructed, but it was just like trying to beat cream with rubber bands in it.

I gave up on that. In the course of trying, though, I burnt the edges of the cake. I performed a crust-ectomy and carried on. I frosted the cake with caramel frosting to hide the evidence of the burn and the lack of whipped cream filling.

On to the snowflakes. The snowflakes are supposed to encircle the sides of the cake, with the cream showing through like snow behind them.I had some caramel candy coating on hand, so I made caramel snowflakes, just for the practice. It sounded like simple geometry. It is not that easy. My snowflakes look like some kind of weird fungus. I stopped with three. it seemed senseless to continue. I stuck them into a puff of plain whipped cream.

It's not the same.

It also didn't taste particularly delicious. Since it was such an unsuccessful attempt on my part, I hesitate to blame the recipe, but I don't foresee using it for Thanksgiving. I may learn to make those snowflakes properly, though, and  use the decorating idea. I may try the recipe again, too, with closer attention to accuracy. The cream filling might be essential to the effect of this cake.

I was at church yesterday from 8:00 to 2:00. Nonetheless, I got the grocery shopping done, and laundry, did a quick site fix for Client #3, and completed level one of the Rosetta Stone French course. Today I have two meetings and lots of work to do, but I am going to hit the gym first.

It used to be that I could get up in the morning and do a few hours' work and then go to the gym. It was a nice break in the day, and I could get back to work refreshed. It has become obvious that this approach no longer works for me, however logical it may seem. I think part of this is because I'm sharing the car with #1 son, and part is probably the class I'm teaching. But they do say that whether people exercise or not is less about motivation than about problem-solving skills. 

So I am changing my schedule. Breakfast, now. Happy Monday to you all!

My pastor called me yesterday to ask about the job at the Medical School. I haven't heard from them yet, which I assume means that they decided to offer the position to someone else. Possibly they haven't told me so yet because they're waiting for that person to accept or decline, and they want to keep their options open a bit longer.

I haven't been thinking about it much because I have new clients and new potential clients and other interesting things going on. This week, I have three meetings to discuss websites, and I'll be adding another if a contract is signed. Plus the classes and rehearsals, of course. Some of you knew me when having more than one appointment of any kind in a week made it a rough week for me. Now I'm looking forward to these meetings, even if they are unbillable. I have enough billable hours this week to enjoy my marketing efforts.

I'm also on the front page of Google for all sorts of searches. You know how I like that.

Yesterday was another gorgeous fall day, and I should have spent it hiking or cleaning my house or making #1 son's shirt or something productive like that, but I didn't. For some reason, I was tired and snappish. So I spent the day lounging on the sofa, reading novels and doing a meager amount of knitting. I talked with my daughters, went to the post office, caught up on filing, did laundry... no cooking or baking or scrubbing or anything energetic like that. 

I did occasionally think about work, specifically the business systems I need to get into place, and I actually had a request for a free site analysis, so of course I did that. But my husband lit the fire and I mostly lolled around. I feel better today.

After church, I hope I'll do the grocery shopping and clean house. Maybe figure out what I'm cooking for Thanksgiving. A practice cake may be in order.

My pastor told me that he knows what it's like to be unsettled in your life. He gets sent on to a new place every few years, after all. "You have to act like you're staying where you are forever," he said. "Otherwise you can't be effective." It is possible that he was talking about his hope that I'll agree to head the worship ministry team, but I think it applies to Thanksgiving. And to building up my freelance business, and possibly even to buying the software I need.

I spent the first three months of my time as an independent SEO professional thinking of myself as an unemployed person who happened to work a lot, and the next three months thinking of myself as a freelance, but if I don't head down to the Medical School, I think I may be ready to accept the notion of myself as owning a business.

In the meantime, I think clothing is called for. Even though I wear a robe in church, I fear that having my jammies peeking out from under it would cause comment.

The concert was good. The first item on the program was a Bach cantata. I snuck into the balcony, where they were allowing people in black carrying music scores to hang out and listen. I sat with the Mathematician. He told me his wife and kids were there. One of my kids was singing, and indeed standing next to him to do so. We updated one another on our other kids. I told him that I had invited my husband to come to the concert, but he had declined.

"I've only seen your husband once."
"At the wedding?"
"Right. If it hadn't been for that, I wouldn't believe that you had a husband. I'd think you made him up to keep men from hitting on you."

I've known the Mathematician for fifteen or twenty years. We often sing together. We've carpooled. We've been in Sunday School together, on committees together. I can't decide whether it's sad that he has only ever seen my husband once or not. It does suggest that we don't socialize much together, but I already knew that, I think.

#1 son and I walked away from the concert in that mild euphoria you get after a successful performance. We ran into a friend of his.

"D'you see the concert?"
"Yeah! Man, it was epic!"
"Yeah! Epic music!"
"What you doing tonight?"
"I'm going to the girls' house."
"Sweet!"
"Wanna come? Call me."
"K." pause, then to me "Hi."
"Oh -- sorry, man , this is my mom."
"It's all good."

Young people today use really short sentences. However, they made up for it with expansive gestures.

If you think you're a young person and a counterexample, you're not. 20 is old.

I'm very late updating this morning. If I'm part of your regular morning round of blogs, you might suspect that I slept in.

Would that it were so! Instead, I woke up with a blog post for my professional blog in my head, so I had to write that instead. I have to catch up with my various blogs in general today, and I also have some press releases to write, and preparation for my meetings on Monday and Tuesday.

However, I also plan to take a walk today, and a nap. I've got a performance tonight. I'm just in the chorus, so it's not a huge big deal, but I want to make a positive contribution, and also I'll be standing for a couple of hours, so I want to go in there feeling good.

We had a good rehearsal last night. There were moments, as for example when the conductor turned to the organist a few bars into the first movement and said, "We're playing... the Faure." We don't know what the organist had on his mind, of course, but the Bach piece doesn't begin with massive bass bowing and a baritone solo, so it was clearly something other than the actual music going on around him.

The violin soloist was incredible. I was sitting where I could only see her hair, which was cut short like glossy black fur, but it's a good thing that the altos only sing two bars in the "Sanctus" movement, or I might well have missed entrances because I was just listening to her. Wow.

After the rehearsal, we went outside and watched the Slow Dancing. It is very cool, and you should click on the link and watch the video. Then imagine how impressive it is when it's gigantic. We are one of very few places who are getting the opportunity to experience this installation -- the Lincoln Center is one, and Los Angeles and Venice have alos gotten turns. If you know what a small town I live in, you will be flabbergasted that we got to have this marvellous thing going on here. If you live here, then get on down to the Arts Center tonight, first for our concert and then for the Slow Dancing. It does move very slowly, so you might want to take a picnic and have it on the lawn. Then listen to the Faure.

Then, if you want to, you can still bar-hop down the street if that's what you usually do on Friday nights, and you won't have missed anything.

Yesterday was another excellent workday. I have in fact been having nothing but excellent workdays lately. I even got paid yesterday. When you work freelance, you don't just have a regular payday. You have all these invoices out, and people pay you at their convenience or according to their accounting schedule, so receiving actual money happens randomly, like just suddenly getting money in the mail or having it appear in your bank account.

I bet that people with a better accounting mindset than I don't see it that way. They probably know what's coming in and go match it up with the invoice number and stuff like that, whereas I just say to myself, "Money just arrived at my bank! How cool is that!"

Also, I find that my name is on the front page of Google for "SEO[my town]," and you know that the whole moving up Google thing is just like a video game for me. And also my candidate won, which hasn't happened in a while, let me tell you, so I was just totally enjoying myself. I did quantities of computer work, suffered through Pilates, opened the store and continued doing quantities of computer work, graded papers, and offered a little mild assistance to customers. I arranged for someone to take my place leading the study group, sent in my apologies for missing bell practice, saw the last customer out, and closed up shop at 6:00.

As I reached my car, my phone rang. #2 son wanted the car to get to work. I got home and found that no one had done anything about dinner, with 30 minutes remaining till #2 had to leave for work, and 45 till choir. I raced around getting skillet lasagna going while my husband complained about coming layoffs and #1 son asked about a thesis and citations for his paper and #2 son complained that I (I?) hadn't yet sent the application fee for his college app and my husband asked repeatedly whether I taken care of his insurance re-enrollment. Dinner wasn't ready before #2 son had to leave, and his work clothes were still in the dryer.

"I put them in the washer before I left for work. How many hours have you been home?" That was me. I also suggested that someone else could have started dinner. They didn't see my point.

"If you want me to make dinner," my husband said helpfully, "you have to leave something to cook on the counter."

And that's the problem, really. I have three intelligent, competent men or nearly men in my household, and none of them can take responsibility for the least little household thing. How would these guys manage if I moved away from them for a couple of months? I asked them that, and #2 son reminded me that he planned to come with me.

I was late to choir. At one point we had the following discussion:

Me: "Chemist, do you want to take that higher note at the divisi?"
Chemist: "I'ts only one note. It doesn't matter."
Me: "I don't mind taking it, I just thought we could decide who would."
Chemist: "It's only one note. It's not like it's a whole line. It doesn't matter."
Me: "It matters to me. I'll take it."
Chemist: "It's only one note. It doesn't matter."
Me: "It's kind of you to indulge me in this."

I returned home from choir to find panicky messages from a retail client. I'ver been getting a lot of panicky messages from the retail clients, actually, but this one wanted me to explain why her sales were down. They are ten times what they were last year for the same month, but they are indeed down from last month. I'm an SEO, not a magician who can shield her from the global economic downturn, much as I would like to, so I didn't have a great answer. I scoured her Analytics and sent off an email with embedded chart. Meanwhile, someone was messaging me at Facebook with an apparent invitation to go sing in St. Louis, and the screen was going blank repeatedly. In the midst of all this, #2 daughter IMed me with her current frustrations about her bf, and The Computer Guy weighed in with a request for numbers.

"It's good that you wrote me," he said. "I was trying to decide how to reply to your last email." Then we went right into the numbers.

For some reason --possibly the way the screen kept blanking out as the wind howled outside -- I felt as though I had missed something. Which last email? What needed figuring out? I didn't enquire, being as how I had to do some quick calculation and estimation. Fortunately, I had some data on which to base these calculations, but unfortunately it is sort of higgeldy-piggeldy in an assortment of client files. I've been meaning to organize this in order to have it at my fingertips instead of having to race around when asked and pretend to have it at my fingertips. In my haste and distractedness I also included some levity in my response along with the numbers. The Computer Guy preserved an austere silence, which is what he does when I stray from seriousness. Though of course it is impossible, in email, to distinguish between austere silence and diligent plugging in of numbers.

All this was followed by a refreshing five hours of sleep.

It is possible that yesterday just had too much stuff in it for one day. Today I have to finish grading papers and get a couple of writing applications in, teach class, and then go to the store, where I can do the blog posts and stuff. There is a dress rehearsal beginning 30 minutes after I need  to close the store, and I have to pick #1 son up for that, and also someone at some point has to pick up his tux. Probably I will have to do that.

Somewhere in there I need to get to the gym, as well. It seems unlikely.

I have a book I want to tell you about. Tomorrow is an at-home day, so it might happen then.

I know some of my readers are Republicans, and they are probably feeling sad today, thinking that an amoral socialist will be taking office soon in place of their beloved president who has made the world a safer place, left no child behind, and brought peace and prosperity to the nation, so I won't be in your face celebratory or anything, but personally I'm feeling at least slightly hopeful.

Those of us who voted for President-elect Obama can without fear of depressing the others further have a little quiet exultation, and a T-shirt saying "Yes, we did" would also be okay, it seems to me.

Mr. McCain's concession speech was gracious, except for the part where he suggested that it was basically African-Americans who had voted for Obama, but he probably did his best.

#2 son volunteered at the polling place yesterday, asking all the newly arrived voters for ID. "I was hoping for a riot," he said with apparent seriousness while describing his day. In fact, he only had a couple of incidents. First, a friend of the family arrived wearing an Obama button and had to be asked to remove it.

"I didn't know there'd be bouncers," she grumbled.

And then there was an old gentleman with a walker who, when asked to show his ID, riposted, "What are you supposed to be?" as though it were still Hallowe'en.

I think the idea was to keep people from getting to the front of the line and realizing with anger that they had forgotten their ID, and to help people find the right line to stand in.

#1 son voted in the primaries, but this was his first election. He wasn't on the list. It was okay -- it was one of the usual name confusions that are a regular part of our lives -- but I was glad I was there. He is the kind who would, once they said he wasn't on the list, have given up and gone home.

I'll be down at Client #3's place of business again today. Yesterday, following my class and a productive meeting with The Computer Guy, I went there and got busy on some press releases. My own website is solidly #1 at Google for my name now, so I can hold my head up among my fellow SEOs again and start working on other keywords. I'm working on two websites right now, one with The Computer Guy and the other in an interesting arrangement.

It's the second of the three pro bono sites I agreed to do back in August, and it's related to the university. Yesterday, the guy who teaches web design there asked if I'd let his class take it on as a project. Since there's no paying client involved, I agreed. This means that I'll get to see some different approaches (different from mine and The Computer Guy's, that is) to the client interview when I go to their class on Monday, and I'll also get to see 17 different responses to that interview. I figure I'll learn some things about web design as well. I'll probably also be a less frustrating client than most would be for the students.

What I need to do right now is to pack a lunch and get to the gym and thence to the workplace.

Where I can probably celebrate pretty openly. Dance of joy, even, perhaps.

We had a good rehearsal last night. The director spoke to us lovingly. Really, he did.

"I love you guys."

We had all four choirs participating in the Requiem there, so we had about 200 voices. It sounded pretty good, too. The choir room is too small for this kind of affair, so we were in the band room, in chairs flat on the floor, those of us in the back trying to see him as best we could.  There was absolutely nothing erotic about the experience.

As we moved through the rehearsal, though, I kept hearing overtones in the director's words. I think it's because once you hear a single overtone, you can't stop hearing them. Even if they aren't there.

"Let me see your bright eyes."

"Bounce with me a little."

"Give me bright sparkling eyes."

"Don't rush, tenors. It'll be more beautiful if you don't hurry."

After working on a line with the altos, "Okay, gentlemen, they're ready for you."

"Breathe together."

Yes, well, in combination with his serene face and suave voice, these words, while I couldn't seem to quit hearing sexy overtones, were quite inspiring.

The young voices were with us. I assume they were the ones inspiring the cute language. I don't think this director has ever asked us in the Master Chorale to bounce with him, or to give him our bright sparkling eyes, either. I like the sound you get with both young and mature voices together. The tenors, especially, sounded completely different with the students mixed in. On the "Agnus Dei," they sounded like angels. It was hard to believe that those same youths would, in an hour or two, be doing things like wolfing down pizza and tossing beer cans at each other and swearing.

 Maybe they don't do that. My own son doesn't act like a lout very much, at least not when I'm around.

Yesterday was another perfect workday. I did stuff for the Aussies, met with a new client, wrote blogs, went to lunch with Janalisa, had a couple of electronic meetings with web designers, did stuff for Clients #3 and 4, and got carte blanche for one of the pro bono sites which has been hanging fire for months. It was fun. I like the variety and flexibility.

Today I have class, and a meeting with The Computer Guy, and then I'm going to mind Client #3's place of business for a few days.

Here's what I'm not doing: getting to the gym or even taking walks, eating right, sleeping enough.

Regardless of what happens with the Medical School, there has to be a point at which I get back to having a normal life. Maybe I'm fooling myself and I never did have a normal life, but it seems to me that once upon a time I had healthy habits and got a lot more needlework done and wasn't always in a rush.

Vote today, fellow Americans. If you are not a white male landowner, then someone in the past suffered for your right to vote. Honor their memories by taking the time to vote today.

My special-ordered buttons arrived at last and I finished Erin. Today I have low-key meetings, so I'm wearing it.

This is, I think, my longest-running WIP ever.

I met a woman last night who was described as having computer skills and wanting to freelance. I had a moment of wild hope that she would be someone who could do little coding things for me. For example, I have a client right now who needs PDF file links moved from a subtle little link on an inside page to a bold award-like starburst sort of thing on the homepage. I could do that myself, but it would take me too long to be worth asking the client to pay for, compared with a skillful person. This kind of thing often happens. So I get involved in pleadings with the webmasters.

Let me end the suspense by informing you that my hopes were dashed. I had to come home and beg The Computer Guy to do it. He agreed to have a look and consider it, saying, "Usually there is a 'reason' that a webmaster is slow to act on maintenance requests." Whether this was a scolding about my frequent whining about webmasters' unresponsiveness, following the current custom of using quotation marks for emphasis or something, or an agreement that those "reasons" are a disguise for bloody-mindedness, I cannot say.

In any case, this woman has been unemployed for two months. She wants to work on a freelance basis from her home with her computer skills, and of course I can attest to the fact that it is possible to make a living that way. I asked what she had done in the way of work toward this goal. I prodded a bit, actually. At one point, she shed a few tears. I wasn't trying to be mean. I just couldn't tell from what she was saying either what her skills were, exactly, or what she had done to try to find work with them.

What it boiled down to was that she had done two online applications. That's all. She hadn't gotten a website up, made business cards, walked her portfolio around, or indeed done anything besides visiting websites and yearning.

Now, in this woman's mind, she had been looking for work for two months, and hadn't been able to find anything. To my mind, she hadn't started yet. Chanthaboune has done 50 applications, and has set herself a goal of making 10 more contacts a day until she finds work. I bet that many of the people who stay out of work for a long time are making that error. Not all of them, I'm sure. There are lots of factors. But it seems as though maybe someone needs to say to jobhunters, "See, you have to apply for lots of stuff, and ask everyone you know if they have heard of any job openings."

The woman sighed, when we finished our conversation, "Oh, well, I had hoped you'd have some magic words."

"Get yourself a website, go to Brainbench and get certification for your skills, and apply for lots of stuff," I said briskly. "Those are my magic words."

It is possible that my disappointment over her not being good with code made me be brisker than I should have been.

I have a meeting with a new client today, and possibly volunteer work and lunch with Janalisa, if I can get the plans firmed up. Grading of papers and a rehearsal, too. I've already done my oDesk hours this morning -- though unfortunately the oDesk monitor thingie froze after 50 minutes. I didn't know that till I went, at the end of my two hours, to check the work diary. This is somewhat distressing. I may just add the time in as offline time and send an explanation to the client -- they can see that I did more than 50 minutes of work. However, the rule is that they only have to pay for what's monitored, and I should have paid attention to it myself. Speaking of which, I must also get my invoices out.  And I have blogs to write. All in all, a frolicsome day.

Yesterday, #2 daughter went back to the big city, The Empress and That Man came to visit, I did the grocery shopping, and #1 daughter arrived.

So I didn't clean house or work or make things, but instead spent the day in conversation. I spoke to my girls frankly about the men they're dating, they gave me firm talks about my and each other's job situations, and we discussed the global economy, personality types and learning styles, and technology. That Man and The Empress and I shared job hunt stories. She's been enjoying being a lady of leisure, but is ready now to return to the work world, and is getting herself used to the thought that she may need to do accounting.

Later in the evening, we played Scrabble, and #1 daughter and her daddy sat down for a heart to heart.

He doesn't sound nearly as positive about the idea of moving when he talks to her as when he talks to me.

We changed our clocks. Well, not the physical clocks. The computer clocks changed, and that's where I get the time. The other people in the house have alarm clocks, though, and we have a clock in the kitchen and one in the car and one in a bathroom. These will get changed gradually over the course of the day or week, and we'll all be confused for a while, catching sight of a clock and wondering whether it has been changed or not. I find the time changes disorienting, for some reason.

Possibly because I don't go around and change all the clocks the way I'm supposed to.

Among the discussions yesterday was the question of whether it is possible to change from being an introvert to an extrovert.

We know someone who believes that he has done so. However, knowing this person's character, we are inclined to think that he has actually just made a successful effort to develop extremely good social skills. We question whether the I/E distinction is fluid.

However, I know that I've had difficulty in the past placing people, including myself, on the I/E continuum.

Part of that is because there are two kinds of people in the world: those who think there are two kinds of people, and those who don't. I don't.

#2 daughter is an obvious E. She's highly gregarious, makes friends easily, and doesn't like being alone. #2 son, also, never met a stranger, has been conspicuous for his leadership skills since the of three, and turns on the TV for company if there are fewer than four people in the room. My #1s are shy, make friends but don't necessarily want to spend all their time with those friends, and hole up in their rooms sometimes. I'm talkative, enjoy being with people, make acquaintances easily though I don't rush into friendships, and like being alone.

Of course, I'm almost never alone IRL, so I could be wrong about that.

But it seems to me that I am less clear a case than my kids. I once read a description of the I/E distinction that phrased it less in terms of what you like and more in terms of what gives you energy. If being with people is tiring and you have to have solitude to recharge, then you're an I. If you get together with other people for energy and inspiration, then you're an E. In those terms, I think I'm an E. My perfect workdays, after all, include a class or a meeting or some Instant Messenger time.

If you think of it in that way, then you could choose to be a funloving, friendly, gregarious I or a contemplative self-sufficient E. I don't think you can really change the predilection, though.

And hey, my site just hit #1 at Google for my name.