For the Love of Geese

For the last two years I've dedicated most of my time to launching a business. I wanted to start a company for two reasons: First, being 6'2, the clothing options are pretty sparse. I believed I could do better. Second, I wanted Julie and Katie to be able to fulfill their dreams.

Julie is my sister-in-law. The mother of Grace, one of my nieces whom I adore. Only, when you ask Grace her name, she says, "Geese," because at age 2, she hasn't quite mastered the letter "r." Julie had a career for many years before becoming a stay-at-home mom. I sense Julie misses her professional self but doesn't want Grace in daycare. So, she's put her career goals on hold until Grace is a little older.

Katie is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We met at basketball practice when we were 14. She's an accountant, and I love her like a sister. Katie has two sweet, sweet kiddos. Each day, she gets them dressed, fed and to daycare before 8 a.m., so she can be at her desk on time. She gives the company nine good hours, picks up the kids, feeds them, bathes them, reads to them, only to do it all over again the next day. I'm exhausted just writing about it. I truly don't know how she does it with a smile on her face. And, she always has a smile.

I love and admire Julie and Katie but I don't want to be faced with their decision: Stay home and put the career goals on hold or continue working and find the best sitter. The truth is, I'm not sure if I'll have children. But if I do, I want the best of both worlds: the ability to decide where I spend my time that day, whether it's with my children or at the office. And, since the lottery isn't working out for me, there was only one way to make it possible: become my own boss.

A lot of entrepreneurs gauge their success on achieving financial goals. We're a little different at KAT. I'll know the company has made it when Katie is working from home to balance our books, and Julie is on staff and able to bring Grace to the office when she needs to. They'll both be fulfilling their dreams as involved moms, while applying their professional experience at a company dedicated to helping women feel good about themselves.

I can't think of a better example to set for my special Geese.

Bravo, Tim Gunn

Dear Tim Gunn,
I really want to be your friend. Is that too forward? I watch your show on Bravo and can't help but think, I want to be his friend. I NEED to be Tim's friend.

Each week, you take a fashion lost soul under your wing and transform them into style divas. You connect them to life coaches, runway coaches and make-up artists. Last night at dinner, I practiced my runway walk through the restaurant just like you instructed in episode two. I swear, heads turned. You see, I'm listening! Isn't that an important quality in a friend?

I vowed to no longer take part in the "slobification of America," as you call it. No more going to the grocery store in gym clothes for me. No, sir! And, now that it's fall, I'm going through my closet and sorting things into four piles: keep, donate, mend and discard.

I'm working hard to get you to notice me, Tim.

Call me. Please.

On My Mind

There are a few things I need to get off my chest.

First, if another celeb lectures me about limiting my carbon footprint, I'll scream. Since when did one week's training at "Inside the Actor's Studio" make you a scientist? Save the lecture. We all need to do our part. Let's start with Leo getting rid of his Hummer.

Second, an area shock jock about sent me over the edge the other day. During his drive-time program he announced any woman who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton in the "upcoming" election should be ashamed of herself. I hope you'll forgive me for voting based on the issues rather than the plumbing below the belt.

Third, corn. Does anyone else worry about eating this vegetable that can also be used to fuel our cars? So, I can put it in my car to make it go AND I can put it in my stomach? Hmm. No thanks.

Finally, file this under things I need to let go of. I think band class is sexist. Or, at least ten years ago (alright, 15 years), when I took it it was. I was excited to play the trumpet, the sax or the drums. What did I get stuck with? The flute. Who played the aforementioned? The boys. Well, you know how this story goes. Since I was given no good reason for not being able to play what I wanted, I rejected it. The result? An "F" in the class. How's that for maturity? (Now that I'm starting my own company, I prefer to think of it as entrepreneurial spirit.)

Thanks for listening.

I Lost My Appetite

I live downtown. And, every urban dweller faces one uncomfortable truth: At some point, you will be asked by a homeless person for money. On the spot, you're forced to decide if you help someone get their next meal.

I recently faced a situation like this that left me steaming. While driving on a city street to dinner, I saw a man standing on a corner with a sign that read, "Hungry, please help." As a person who literally can't go two hours without eating, signs like these haunt me. I can't imagine going days without food.

But, it's what I saw next that made me lose my appetite.

The light turned green and the small pick-up truck in front of me pulled to the side of where the man was standing. The "hungry man" took his sign, threw it in the back of the truck and they sped away.

Here's an idea: If you're hungry, sell the truck. It's not even a buck to ride the bus.

But, he's not starving. Begging for money is his day job. And, while most Americans go to work to pay their bills, this man takes advantage of human decency.

There are millions of people in our country of abundance who work long hours (at legitimate jobs) and still struggle to put food on the table. And, this man was making a game of it. He's giving those who truly are in need a bad rap.

Confession time: When I see a person asking for money, I immediately start assessing. In our parking lot, a man once asked me for bus fare. Since he was wearing a gold necklace, I told him no.

This week, a woman standing on the corner not far from my house had a sign asking for money for food. Two reasons made me tell her no. First, from that corner, you can literally see the neighborhood soup kitchen. If you're really hungry, you don't need my money. You can walk up the hill and eat for free. Second, she had an eye patch. On a snap judgement I decided it was fake. While her clothes were disheveled, she wasn't filthy. And, the patch, it was stark white and new.

It embarrasses me to admit I make these snap decisions. But I also balance those thoughts with, what if that was your dad? Or, as a person of faith, what if that was Jesus? Well heck, then I'd give him my wallet and the keys to my car.

So, what's the solution? How do I help the working poor and not feel like I'm being scammed? I've considered offering granola bars. I've heard the idea of giving McDonald's gift certificates so they have to be used for food. After the pick-up truck incident, I decided to take a bag of groceries to the local food pantry once a month. I can have confidence I'm helping the working poor and not those just working the system. After all, the working poor don't have time to stand on the corner begging for money. Because, well, they're working.

Michael and LL: Own up

Two things drive me crazy about Hollywood: Celebs who aren't accountable for their actions. And, stars who testify before Congress. (Really? We couldn't find anyone more credible then a guy who plays a doctor on TV? Let me guess, he stayed at a Holiday Inn last night, right?)

Today class, we're focusing on stars who have no sense of accountability.

Let's start with everyone's favorite friend, Michael Moore. (Or, "Michael S'more" as I like to call him.) Up front, let me say that I haven't seen "Sicko" and I have no plans to. But I take issue with a 400 lb. man complaining about our nation's health care system. Yo, Mike, you want better health care? Put the Cheetos down and pick the dumbbells up. I definitely don't support a national health care system where my tax dollars are used to compensate your bad eating habits. Better health care starts with the person you see in the mirror.

Next, Lindsey Lohan. She's 21, has two DUIs and is facing her second stint in rehab. Lindsey, at this pace, what will you have to look forward to in your 30s? After being pulled over Tuesday night for driving under the influence, police found a white powdery substance. I'm going to guess it wasn't anthrax. Soon after, LL sent a letter to a Hollywood reporter stating the cocaine wasn't hers and someone put it in her pocket.

Linz, (can I call you Linz?) here's the deal: I know Hollywood is a magical place but cocaine doesn't just magically appear in your possession. People (read: addicts) put it there. You only get one body and you're putting some nasty stuff in yours. Stop boozing. Stop stoning. Start loving yourself.

Finally, I'd like to spotlight a refreshing change from an unlikely source. I never thought I'd cite NY Gov. Elliot Spitzer as a good example of anything...but I'm doing it. His administration was called under fire for its questionable tactics to discredit a rival senator. It's yet to be determined the Gov's role in all this but I have to give him props for his initial response. He said he had no knowledge of the alleged events (we'll see -- he's rumored to be a micro manager), apologized and took responsibility for the actions of his staff.

Elliot, I think you're shady and it's doubtful we'll ever exchange Christmas cards but I give you props for at least publicly acknowledging your team did something wrong and taking responsibility for it.

Gayle and Oprah would be proud

I just returned from a trip to Galena, IL. Not your typical Summer vacation hot spot but this was not your typical trip. Each year, all the chicks on my mom's side meet for a weekend of girl power.


Now, before you make some snide comment about the Oxygen network, consider the brain power in the room. There were two small business owners, a lobbyist, a nurse and educators. I assure, you there were no pillow fights.


Was there People magazine? Sure. (And, US and In Touch....) Was there wine? Lots. But more importantly, there was great, intelligent discussion. Last year's hot topic was No Child Left Behind. This year, it was Hillary Clinton. Not exactly your typical sewing circle, eh?


They have a fabulous winery in Galena where we sat for hours and talked. My mom shared what it was like to beat breast cancer. My cousin shared how hard being a new mom has been. My aunt talked about the impact she's making as a woman in her male-dominated field. And, me? I just soaked in the greatness and said a prayer of thanks for these positive influencers in my life.

Confessions

I was raised Catholic so naturally, I have an abnormal amount of guilt. I was taught to attend Confession and get all those little white lies off my chest. But, I despised Confession as a child and only went once. (Strange though, I always made it to Communion where there was food and wine...)

But for some odd reason, I've never been able to shake my need to tell people when I've done something wrong. So, if you who thought today's blog was a review of Usher's album, "Confessions," you're in for a surprise. Mass is in session.

Here's a summary of my latest doozies:

Confession 1: I layout in the sun. I like it. I only use SPF 4. And, it's tanning oil. I side with my sister-in-law on this one who says, "tanned fat always looks better than white fat." Preach on, Julie.

Confession 2: Today, I didn't workout. And, I didn't have a reason. I just slept in. For those of you thinking, "get a grip," allow me to put this into perspective. Last night, I had TWO bowls of chips.

Confession 3: I have a new (bad) habit of telling people they're boring. The other day in a client meeting I blurted, "This is boring." This was met with some puzzled looks and then thankfully, laughter. Here's a tip: Telling your client they're boring is not a blueprint for success.

Confession 4: I read People magazine. And US Weekly. And OK! And In Touch. But, I don't read Star magazine or The Enquirer. Come on, even I have standards. Everyone knows those two magazines are just lies anyway.

Confession 5: I hate the show "Seinfeld." Here's the deal George and Elaine, if I want to hear someone whine, I'll listen to myself. While everyone else laughs at "no soup for you," I just stare at the TV and think, "those are really bad outfits."

Sigh. It feels great to get that off my chest. I think I'll bury a statue of a saint upside down in the backyard, say the Lord's prayer, a few Hail Mary's and call it good.