2011 was amazing!

I had record year for travelling: Honolulu, Austin and San Diego with an unscheduled quick sleepover in  Phoenix, Mississauga, Portland and Los Angeles. My travel agent even suggested that it now might be worthwhile to get an air miles card.

I had the opportunity to present at South-by-Southwest (SXSW), the 26th Annual International Technology & Persons with Disabilities Conference (CSUN 2010) and Successful Online Business Conference (SOBCon);

I had the pleasure of meeting new friends and happily reconnecting with old ones.

However, all of this – and more – has left me feeling tired for several months; more than “go have a nap” tired, more like “too tired to fight any more” tired. This may partially explain my four colds in the last four months. (Although coughing for 2-3 weeks per month has done wonders for my abdominal muscles!)

Changes are definitely needed to get my health back, to create some balance, and to feel like a million bucks again.

For the next while, at least, I am committing to a four-hour work day without any crazy deadlines (no matter how urgent clients claim it is). This isn’t as drastic as Tim Ferris’ 4-Hour Workweek. (Is that even possible? Seriously?)

In preparation for keeping me focused and on task, I have created two columns with the question “Am I Doing What I Should Be Doing Now?”. In the “Yes” column, I have listed:

• Client work
• Writing blog posts or other content
• Research
• Webinars
• Relevant Tweet chats
• Marketing activities (if I must)
• Paying bills
• Filing papers
• Bookkeeping
• Packaging books
• Work-related email

In the “No” column:

• Twitter, other than to share posts and other “just can’t wait!” tweets
• Facebook
• Housework
• Personal email
• Google+ without a real purpose

My plan is to work from 10 (realistically) until 2. By focusing on work tasks for four hours, without interruptions, I am hoping that I will be as equally productive as sitting here all day.

I will break for lunch when my stomach tells me it is lunchtime – typically around 2:30. I will hang out with friends and family on Twitter, Facebook and email while eating lunch.

After a reasonable amount of time at the virtual water cooler, I plan on doing something radical: turning off my computer! …and going to do something else. It might be:

• Doing scheduled housework
• Decluttering a specific nook or cranny
• Trying something new in the kitchen (Did I just say that? Publicly? Oops.)
• Napping with my kitty
• Reading a book
• Going out
• Exercising
• Connecting with local friends
• Anything that isn’t on the computer

I might turn on my computer again later in the day; my second book is begging to be written. Or, I might be content doing whatever I am doing and leave it off until the next day.

Sounds like a plan for restoring my health and balance in my life, right?

Feel free to hold me to the “Yes” and “No” lists to help me stay focused and on task. Once I have given this a fair try, I will report on whether a four-hour work day can be as equally productive an all-day shift.

Meanwhile, I would like to wish you health – physical, spiritual, emotional, mental and financial – and hope – hope that tomorrow will be better, or, if today was great, hope that tomorrow is equally as great – for 2012.

Happy New Year to you!

The universal forces are pulling me towards ISAAC  2012 – the 15th Biennial Conference of the International Society for Augmentative and Alternative Communication – to be held in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, July 28 to August 4, 2012.

These forces aren’t only pulling me to attend, but also to present at ISAAC 2012, which only makes sense. There is little point in going all that way only to sit and listen; I might as well contribute to the conversation.

Presenting means first submitting a paper, which isn’t impossible; I submitted a successful proposal for South by Southwest (SXSW) 2010 and a joint paper for the 26th Annual International Technology & Persons with Disabilities Conference (CSUN 2010). However, the catch is that proposals are due the day before Darrell and I leave for Los Angeles to attend BlogWorld 2011. Of course. Completing one trip before even considering the next one is not an option. Obviously that isn’t how universal forces roll.

With those thoughts zinging around in my head, I then began thinking about one of my items on my bucket list…this is where writing down things, publicly, becomes hazardous because people (including yourself) can remind you of it and hold you to it.

The item in question is “climb the stairs at Philadelphia Museum of Art with the spirit of Rocky Balboa". Philadelphia and Pittsburgh are, at least, in the same state; close enough for considering doing both on the same trip.

Crazy?

Perhaps.

But…why not? Life is too precious not to make the most of it!

I keep thinking of small business adviser and speaker Charlie Gilkey’s motto, “Do Epic Shit”. Surely this would qualify.

Philadelphia’s Museum of Art has only 72 steps to conquer! Together, my lifelong friend Karen, my cousin Craig and I climbed 81 stairs before zipping across Robson Square. And that was while I was still recovering from a nasty cold. What is 72 stairs when I have 10 months to prepare? (Any trainers out there?) Eye of the Tiger (song lyrics) will likely be the earworm that kicks my butt until next summer.

Other than devising a way to finance this crazy idea and putting together a support team, one hitch would be a heat wave; mid-summer in Pittsburgh may not be the wisest time of year. For that reason, this idea may need to be rethought.

First things first: submit a successful proposal before November 1st.

Stay tuned…

When many people buy their first home, they add their personal touch soon after moving in, making it feel truly their own.

Other than having my Dad replace the thick carpet with parquet flooring when my Amigo scooter went up in flames, literally, Darrell and I did not do anything to our home to make it truly ours. I didn’t even buy tea towels.

Instead, when we bought our home in May, 2001, we chose to put any extra money on the mortgage, which proved to be a wise move because we then were able to decrease our mortgage payments when Darrell’s position was axed thanks to a change in a government policy.

We lived with the builder’s white paint and the dated wallpaper borders, not quite feeling the place was completely ours (with the bank still as a silent partner).

Last summer, a combination of factors – a bit of extra money, a neighbour who enjoys painting and a few days away in Virginia – allowed my office (actually, the dining room) to be painted.

Wanting to bring the outside inside to give me a cheery workspace, even on dark and gloomy winter days, I chose a bold, very much alive green. Some may call it a lime green.

I love it! I smile every time I see it.

However, the builder’s white and the 1980s wallpaper then became even more dated; even more of an eye sore. But what colour goes with lime green? I have my talents, but interior design isn’t one of them.

After much indecision and driving my husband nuts with umpteen paint chips, we chose Pumpkin Butter. Actually Darrell pointed to it first; a giant leap from his preferred choice of conservative white.

Thanks to our line of credit and our neighbour, the rest of the main living space was painted while we were in Hawaii. Coming home to a freshly painted place and having missed the mess was such a treat!

The Pumpkin Butter is warm and rich. And looks amazing with lime green – at least to my eyes! Who would have figured?

Then, while in Mississauga for my two weeks in CubeLand and with my weekend free, I found myself wandering into Crate & Barrel – a store that we do not have here in the Vancouver area, which might be a good thing.

I was enjoying wandering around, and then I spotted it from across the store: a colour combination of green, orange and purple. Pillows, throws and even tea towels in my colour scheme! I wasn’t crazy after all. I felt vindicated.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) I had absolutely no room for anything extra in my bags for my trip home – not even for the 3-month old Himalayan kitty in the pet store that I fell in love with and that broke my heart to leave behind, but that’s another story.

When I came home, I discovered Crate & Barrel had a website – and that they ship, too, for a price. It made shopping way too easy. The first order was a duvet cover and pillow cases that perfectly matched our lilac/lavender bedroom. And being the Marimekko brand, which reminded me of my time in Finland with my penpal, it held extra meaning. (Sorry, no photos; that’s where I draw the bloggy line.)

Arriving last week in a somewhat battered box, the second order contained the next step in the ongoing makeover.

And the large box means I can pass on a fair number of unneeded items to the thrift store, keeping the clutter at bay.

The cuddly teddy bears on the chair beside the bookcase were replaced with a throw blanket with all of my crazy colours.

The floral sheet covering the couch – which makes washing easier when it gets covered with cat hair – was replaced with a gray flannel one that I had on hand. My Chief Feline Officer insisted on offering her assistance, of course.

With fresh paint and coordinating pillows, this place feels new again. After being here for ten years, our home finally has our own touch. It only shows that makeovers need not occur all at once or be expensive to have an impact.

Faith has given the new couch her paw of approval for cat naps.

All year you have been working hard on a major project. You have been focused, driven and passionate. You have come back after setbacks, and have found creative solutions to imposing barriers.

You have received amazing support from all of those around you.

You can nearly taste your just reward.

With the finish line in sight, you stumble and fall. While down you realize how completely drained and exhausted you are. You pause for a moment and think, “I don’t have any more left. I have given it my all, I have nothing more to give.”

What do you do?

Do you walk away, saying you did you best? That you will try again another time? 

Do you you give into the those naysayers who said that you wouldn’t finish? That you wouldn’t go all of the way?

Do you listen to the nagging little voice that kept saying you wouldn’t make it?

Or…

Do you pick yourself up and dig deeper than you have ever dug before?

Do you find from somewhere, anywhere, some way, any way, to do whatever you need to do?

Do you reach that finish line with your head held high and claim your just reward?

What is your Stanley Cup in your life?

Yesterday I tweeted “Imagine we’re sitting around, chatting. What might you want to ask me?”

Four people welcomed the invitation:

John Foliot asked, “Can you name one thing that often makes you want to “give up”, and one thing that inspires you to “push on”?”

Encounters with people (and systems) who do not see beyond my disability to see my abilities and the real me inside – and there’s still many of them out there – are extremely discouraging and devaluing. I am left feeling what’s the point of trying when my capabilities aren’t validated, aren’t valued.

But then I reconnect with that part deep within myself that doesn’t give up, that keeps going, no matter what. That reconnection might be sparked by listening to one of “my” songs, witnessing someone else struggle and thinking “if they can do that, then I can get through this”, or writing a cathartic blog post and then getting on with it.

Holly Salsman enquired, “What would you say your biggest challenge has been, and your biggest accomplishment?”

Communicating verbally with those unfamiliar with Glenda-ish has always been, and remains, a challenge. A high school counsellor once asked if I would prefer to walk or to talk. My response was immediate: talk. People are so quick to judge one’s cognitive abilities based on her ability to speak; if they don’t understand her speech, they tend to discount her other abilities. I am constantly proving that I am not hearing or cognitively impaired; that I understand and I am capable. The iPad has helped enormously, in some situations, but I am finding it is not the magic bullet every time. Face-to-face communication will likely remain an ongoing challenge through my entire lifetime. Thank goodness for blogging and tweeting!

To date, my biggest accomplishment has been writing and then self-publishing my autobiography I’ll Do It Myself – a project thirty years in the dreaming, researching, planning, learning and creating. Opening the first box and seeing my baby for the first time was such an emotional experience!

However, I sense my ultimate accomplishment is still yet to come. Stay tuned.

The Badass Project queried, “You clearly can do it yourself, but what or who could you not do it without?”

I am extremely fortunate to be surrounded by encouraging, wise, giving, creative people who I can call on when working on a project or when struggling to figure out something. With the list lengthy, the top spot goes to my wonderfully supportive and patient husband Darrell Hyatt. Without him, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

(By the way, I love the mission of The Badass Project! Check it out.)

Karen Putz asked, “What’s on your bucket list?”

Great question. One that made me stop to think. Here’s what comes to mind initially:

• Do the zipline trek at Whistler
• Try sit-skiing
• Climb the stairs at Philadelphia Museum of Art with the spirit of Rocky Balboa
• Transverse the Sydney Bridge in Australia
• Write another book or two
• Get off of social assistance once and for all (in the good way)

No doubt this list will grow with more time and more thought.

Your turn: What would you like to ask? Your question might become fodder for a future post.

Venturing beyond one’s comfort zone leads to experiencing new adventures, discovering new talents or skills, and to meeting new people. Expanding and going beyond one’s comfort zone is one way to truly live life to it’s fullest and to discover one’s full potential and capabilities.

And I am all for it!

But is there a limit to how far one should venture from the point of comfort? Is there a point at which venturing out of bounds is unsafe, unwise? Is that comfort zone there for a reason?

Yes, in recent years, I have found my way to Harpo Studios, ziplined across Robson Square, and toured Washington DC solo. However, in each case, I had taken steps for a successful outcome:

• Using Google Maps at the most detailed level, I studied the route from Hotel 71 to Harpo Studios. I was prepared to abort the trip if I felt unsafe at any point. And, in fact, I did alter my route when the sidewalk became impassable and when the area felt less than desirable.
• When climbing the eighty-one stairs to the zipline, the three of us took our time; I trusted my friends. I also trusted the company running the zipiine; this was their business and they would take all safety measures necessary to protect it. Rationally I knew I was safe, even though I was terrified as I sat down on the platform before leaping off into nothingness.
• Before exploring Washington for four hours, I again studied Google Maps in great detail. And, although I didn’t put my theory to the test, I sensed yelling "Bomb!" would garner much more attention than required.

Despite similar preparation for my last trip, I felt unexplainably uneasy, scared; I even emailed my Mom that I was terrified (not the best thing to say in an email before leaving on a "foreign" trip).

Why did this trip feel so far out of my comfort zone?

I don’t know.

Perhaps it was because I was traveling alone and I realize that, as a woman with a significant physical disability, I am a vulnerable target for an assault. That is my fear, always.

Perhaps it was because the trip was three-legged – from here to Austin to San Diego and back home again – and two of those legs meant changing planes. There was more opportunity for something to go wrong.

Perhaps it was because a friend said she wouldn’t recommend that any woman stay at the motel I had booked. (At the end of my stay she realized she was thinking about the wrong motel).

Perhaps it was because of something else.

I don’t know.

But I had that feeling before I had the accessibility issues in Austin, before I missed my flight and had to unexpectedly spend the night in Phoenix, and before I had to take a taxi alone late at night in an unfamiliar city.

Was my fear my imagination running wild? Or was it trying to tell me something, to protect me from something?

How far can one safely venture from one’s comfort zone?

I am writing this on my iPad, comfy in bed with my kitty Faith curled up beside me.

Why?

Last week our friend was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic and liver cancer. The doctors give him six months.

My heart goes out to him, his wife, his kids and grandkids.

How does one respond to such news? Does one crawl under the covers, thinking what is the point of doing anything? Or does one pack as much as possible into each day to create lasting memories for those left behind? And, if so, where does one even start?

I really don’t know how I’d would respond if I was in his place. And, I guess there is no way of knowing until faced with a similar situation.

I know we are suppose to live each day to it’s fullest as if it was our last. But what does that mean, really? The bills still need paying, the laundry still needs doing, the dishwasher still needs emptying. Surely I wouldn’t do those things if I knew it was my last day.

And that leads to another question: is it better not knowing how long one has? (Of course, the doctors could be wrong.) Does one live more purposefully, more consciously, knowing the end is near? Or is the joy completely drained out with the constant thought “Will this be the last time I do this, I see this. I hold her?” Or does it depend upon how one has lived the rest of his life?

I don’t know, and, perhaps, there is no way to know. Perhaps we are meant to do our best at living each day – whatever our best is, whatever is most meaningful to us, today.

So why am I writing this on my iPad in bed? No, not because I’m depressed and am hiding from the world. But rather I’ve been curious what it’d be like to climb into bed on a cold winter’s day and write without the usual distractions while sitting at my computer.

This morning I thought “why wait till winter?” Today is a good day for writing a post in bed. Without the distractions of checking email and Twitter, I’ve found I’m more focused on my words and my thoughts. And isn’t that what writing is all about? Isn’t that what living a meaningful life – focused on only the task in front of you right now – is all about?

Instead of leaving a comment or tweeting this post, I’d much rather you did something meaningful: go hug your kids – two-legged, four-legged or otherwise; go call that friend you’ve been meaning to call for eons, go write a real letter to a loved one – or whatever is most meaningful to you in this very moment.

I’m going to enjoy my kitty a little longer and read a bit more of Winnie-the-Pooh before jumping up to do the next task on my list.

After much deliberation and agonizing indecision, I have decided not to attend the mega high school reunion tonight. I feel that’s not what I need right at this moment; even using the event as research for an iPad experiment isn’t enough of an enticement.

This evening I’d much rather:

• Plan what needs to happen before I relaunch the Blog Accessibility Mastermind course,
• Choose – or, at least, narrow it done to the our top 3 choices – the colours for Darrell’s office, our bedroom and the ensuite, which will be painted while we are in Vegas,
• Order in Chinese food and play Wii with Darrell – something we haven’t done in months because we’ve been too busy, and then
• Climb into a still-to-be-made clean bed and read the current issue of O Magazine.

That would make for a peaceful, content and satisfying evening for me.

What would make this evening enjoyable and satisfying for you?