Fewer Facepalms

Before I go to the grocery store, I make a list. Very rarely I will forget and wander the aisles trying to think of what I was missing at home. Even when I do make a list, I often forget to get one or two things on the list. And when I get home I face palm, remembering some obvious thing I had been telling myself to remember all week but had forgot on the list.

We are still out of toothpaste.

In the rest of my life I have started an analogous habit: setting intentions.

What this means is, as I prepare to do something like have a meeting or set about the business of my day, I try to set an intention. Even if it is blazingly obvious, I can set my intention for myself, “Today I intend to focus on each task one at a time.”

Or if I am scheduling a meeting, I can let everyone know my intention:
“This meeting is to talk about an efficient and graceful solution to our problem.”

As obvious as toothpaste.

But as I discovered from my shopping lists, even the obvious things get forgotten. EVER WHEN I AM TRYING SO HARD TO REMEMBER!

Some things which should not be forgotten get lost.

Putting a little thought into it beforehand helps. And even more than just the tradition agenda, which is a list of items, an intention allows for flavor.

Yes, we want to get this or that thing done. But how do I want to feel about it while we are working on it, and how I want it to look when it is done can be expressed with intentions.

It’s a simple thing, but a little fore thought on that can make a big different.

My intention is to avoid the facepalm.


“Come on Veronica. It’s time to do Khan Academy.”

It’s summer, but I want to keep her brain working. And I know she loves math, so I want to keep her skills sharp. We’re working through the 4th grade lessons.

I know I’m not the only one who is uncomfortable with the way Common Core teaches math. We are having fun with 2-digit multiplication right now, and Sal Khan is gently and carefully teaching 3 different ways to arrive at the answer to 57×65

I can understand that when there are 28 kids in a class, one of those three ways will hopefully catch with all the kids. But I know that my daughter has quickly caught on to the way that *I* learned math, and the way I taught her when we were starting this.

So she is bored to tears when the same exact problem has to be solved two OTHER ways. Except I know that the teacher next year will require her to do homework and answer test question for all three ways.

Her mind is stimulated by the math, and not at all stimulated by the two other ways to find an answer she already knows.

HOWEVER! She does take away another lesson. What she figures out in this moment is that there are multiple ways to solve math problems. So as she waits for Sal Khan to finish his boring explanation of arriving at an answer she is already sitting on, she knows she wants in on the fun.

If HE can figure out two other ways to solve a math problem, what can SHE do?

This causes a problem for me. As she is bored with the regular answer she’s been sitting on for the whole lesson, she pokes and twists the math problem again and tries to see if there is another way to do it.

This is exhausting for all concerned. She doesn’t like being wrong and she lacks the skills to be right.

What happens is her brain starts revving so hard trying to reach for that knowledge that is out of her grasp, she forgets stuff she knows, that 5×6 = 30, not 11

And then she gets so mad at herself for forgetting what she knows she knows. She tries to solve the whole problem in one swoop in her mind.

I had to really pull her up short.

“Solve the problem in front of you!”

There was a lot of shushing, and not now, and don’t ask why happening.

Solve the problem in front of you.

“You know, Veronica, this is something I have trouble with too. You are saying in your mind ‘what if’ and ‘what if’ and ‘what if’ but we can’t solve those things before they happen. And it’s quite likely that most of them won’t happen anyway.”

Hmm. This is a good thing for me to remember. That bridge doesn’t need crossing before I come to it.

Thanks, Sal Khan.

Life Design

I’ve just started reading Tim Ferris’s The Four-Hour Work Week.

I know, it was popular quite a while ago and now might be as dated as Vanilla Ice.

But I picked it up, and am slowly making my way through it.

He says, you may think you want to be a millionaire, but what you really want is to live like a millionaire.

I have a lot of friends who live or aspire to live what is called the “digital nomad” lifestyle. That means, if you have a laptop and Internet you can live anywhere and take advantage of what the world has to offer.

This is not new. That’s what Hemingway and Picasso did in Paris. Paris was super cheap to live in after world war one, and attracted a lot of artists.

People with Internet businesses are finding that they can live much cheaper and better in tropical Asia.

Which is fine, if that is what you enjoy.

My family and I do not want that kind of life. I like having a family, and a community of people right here in my little town.

I have moved a LOT as an adult, and when I moved here I made a conscious choice to stay.

So, if I had all the money in the world, I’m not sure I’d move. And that’s awesome!

I’m not a fan of complacency. But since I’ve found something I really like, I don’t need to change it just because.

I want to live an examined life. I have thought it over, and the benefits of being a digital nomad (as much as I love travel) don’t exceed the value of having my roots where I am.

I have a finite amount of time. How much is not given me to know. But what I have is precious, so I want to do the things I enjoy.

In The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin says that if you are happy, but not aware of how happy you are, you are missing out.

Cherishing the things I’ve chosen is a precious gift. I love my front door, the particular red paint I chose for it. As I acknowledge that happiness, I can relive it every time.

Although I have barely started Ferris’s book, I can see that we agree on some things. Don’t let your assumptions and habits trap you. We are free to design our lives.

But it’s also fine to look at your life and discover you have most of what you want.

That’s a pretty great realization.

she said it

I’ve come back from helping my mother with dad‘s death.

I started my new job at Western University

It was the end of my first day. I was very tired and we had made plans for dinner

It was the end of my first day. I was very tired and we had no plans for dinner

Chris had not one not two but three coupons at Chili’s So we go.

One of them was desert. It was free because it was his birthday last week.

We very seldom get dessert at Chili’s because we are too full but chris and Veronica choose which desert.

She’s very eager to get the cookie sundae. She and daddy dive Into the ice cream

Veronica says “why do I get the distinct impression that you are spoiling me? “

My daughter is well aware that she gets good attention from us, and we delight is giving her things she enjoys



This is me having nothing to say.

You all have been with me a long time, and every week I have something to share with you. My wonderings, my experiences, I put them in order and string together something to share with you all.

Two things happened this last week.

My dad died.

I started a new job.

My father’s death was not sudden. I had been expecting it soon for years, and then in the last 2 months, I had known it was imminent.

When the inevitable happened, I flew to help my mom right away.

Do I have no words to say about my father’s death? Ahh…no. From my phone minutes alone, I have nothing but words. From the middle-of-the-night-can’t-sleep avalanche of thoughts, it seems like an unending spool.

And my new job. I am supposed to help a university with a Center for Innovation. This means I am creating an incubator for new medical technologies to go from an idea to something people can buy.

That means taking big complicated ideas and organizing them, testing and trying stuff to get it right. It means discarding the parts that aren’t right until the final product is something released for public consumption.

I woke this morning, after the sun had barely risen, wondering if it was too early to go to work, and realized with a sinking feeling that I had nothing for my Weekly Wonder.

I wondered if this would be the first time for a rerun, and I was thinking about my eventful week. Putting these two things together.

The weekly wonder is an innovation I release every week for public consumption. I write an original post, growing the idea and pulling it into shape so that it is something I feel that my readers will enjoy. Something that will make your lives better.

I have learned how to find the right-sized idea and wrap words around it so that it can be released and bring light to the world.

I am drowning in thoughts and incomplete ideas about my father’s death. It is not a right sized idea, but it is kind of eclipsing all the other ideas.
And just as I was thinking I’d have to give up on this week’s installment of my beloved Weekly Wonder, I realized I could share with you how I have nothing to say, and what that means.

It’s not that I have nothing to say, it’s that what I have to say is not the right size or ready to light the world.

That happens. Ideas have to be ready. Some sit for a really long time before launching.

But then, as I am finding, even when I thought there wasn’t a thing I could share, inspiration shines through the densest dark and lights our way.

Mining for Happy

Happiness was never something I was supposed to pursue. Happiness was a fortunate side effect of being good.

Being good was the whole point. And if you were good, you might get to be happy.

But happy was something to earn, for sure.

More recently I have learned that happiness is something to be desired in and of itself. Just because.

“Does it make you happy? Then do it!”

See those quote marks? There are to indicate that someone else is saying that. Not me. Even after I was first introduced to the concept of personal happiness, even after it started rolling around in my head.

Not for me. It was someone else who thought of that. Someone else who asked themselves if they were happy.

Personal happiness as a concept might not have penetrated my consciousness if I hadn’t become a parent.

It was very easy to see that I wanted my daughter to be happy. Her personal happiness was something I spent a lot of time nurturing. For her, I could spend time and effort.

For me?

Cinderella’s my girl. Only AFTER I get the drapes and floors done, THEN I could put some time into making a dress for the ball.

I’ve been exploring this idea of personal happiness. Kicking the tires of my previous assumptions.

So yeah, two months ago I lost my job. Boss FIRED me. That was tough. I spend a few weeks right after that dealing with his judgment of me.

Was he right to fire me? Did I deserve to have a job? Perhaps he was right, and I was wrong. Maybe HE saw something I couldn’t, and I was a fool for thinking I had something to offer.

Even as those feelings of judgement washed over me, as I fought to find my way to the truth of the matter, I knew that I did have something to offer. I KNEW it. He was one guy, and he didn’t know everything.

I knew I would keep looking and I would find my spot.

Here’s a beautiful quote:
Faith is the evidence of things not seen.

I had faith.


I had  faith that I would find my spot. I just didn’t see it.

Then I would have not-faith. Doubt? Yeah, that is a good world for it.

But I wanted that job. I did the work to find it, sending applications every day and reaching out to people I knew who might have a job for me.

And I felt like I was stuck on pause.

Can I be happy? I didn’t have the new job. I didn’t have the proof that the guy who fired me was wrong.

I rode the wheel of faith, soaring to the top of feeling confident and happy. Then wheeling down into the depths of doubt and judgement.

Also spending a lot of time in the floaty middle. Not happy, not sad. Just waiting.

That is not the person I usually am. I am kinetic moving forward most of the time. This time though, I felt on pause.

I wanted to be happy. But I couldn’t seem to let myself be happy  until I had the definite job.

As if

new job = happy

There was an equation for happiness, and something had to be on the other side.

Right back to the beginning.

I had to be good, and happy was the side effect.

As I’ve been experimenting with happiness, I am thinking it’s not an equation.

It works better when happiness is its own thing, like an element. Like Gold or Silver.

It can stand on its own, not dependent on conditions. It has a right to stand on its own, not propped up by circumstances

This fifth wheel inside my head though, I might need to drill down a bit deeper to find the ore.

A whole lot of crap has been accumulating, making it hard to get to the gold.

But there’s gold in them there. I am going to go get it.

The Russian Revolution

Veronica is reading Animal Farm for the fourth time.

I read it to her the first time on the anniversary of the forming of the Soviet Union, to give her the basics.

Kid loves to hear us tell her about history, especially at bedtime.

“Mommy, I was thinking you could tell me more about World War 1.”

Chris knows more details, but I am better at making the stories work for her child ears.

Still, we are coming to the end of tales easily told. It was time to move on.

“Veronica, do you know what the Cold War is?”

“Oh yeah, that’s about the Nuclear Bomb!”

Yes, that’s part of it.

I wanted to tell her about current events, most specifically what’s been happening with Korea. That this meeting between North Korea’s president-for-life and American’s president, this one that hasn’t happened yet, is a very significant historical event.

But there’s a lot of ‘splaining to do before we can get to the part about why it is significant.

I made some inroads into why America had trouble trusting Russia after the 2nd world war, which prompted her desire to revisit Animal Farm.

Orwell, you did a good job. It’s a grim story, but very approachable.

Thing is, it’s a very broad allegory. Having written allegories myself, I know how that can be. This character and that has to be fictionalized.

But the characters, all of them, in Animal Farm, have real life counterparts. And the horrors of that story are light compared to the real horrors that were performed by the actual historical figures.

I secured a promise from Veronica that she would listen to the story of what REALLY happened.

But that meant I had to do some homework. I had to go get my facts straight, and I made some notes.

I remember as a teenager in the 80s, the year we studied WW2. At that moment it time, the Cold War was breathing its frosty breath through our daily lives. Russia–the Soviet Union–was the biggest, baddest evil villain ever.

So why didn’t my history class talk about how the Soviet Union was formed? Wasn’t that even MORE important than the terrifying but DEAD Hitler?

The books did not talk about it. And no one could give me a straight answer.

I went to Russia itself before I got an answer. And in the years since, I have pieced it together.

The Soviet Union was very diligent in re-writing history to suit the needs of the current power structure. Communism also had and has a lot of people who want it to succeed. There was a lot of smoke and mirrors to wade through.

This is basically what I explained to Veronica.

Karl Marx was a German man who lived in England during the Industrial Revolution and the heyday of colonialism. At that time, a lot of people were wondering why THEY worked in the factories and were poor, but the people who owned the factories seemed to do no work at all but they made all the money.

This idea was circulating and a lot of people were thinking of ideas of how it could be different. These ideas were known as Communism and Anarchism, which seemed almost the same thing to a lot people at that time.

Karl Marx wrote two books The Communist Manifesto and Das Capital, to explain how Communism should work and would overthrow the current monarchs and rulers of countries.

This completely scared the rulers of the countries who considered their overthrow to be scary Anarchy. Plus the Anarchists were plotting and sometimes succeeding in Assassinations of world leaders.

Very scary.

Someone who looked a lot like those crazy anarchist Communists assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and that started World War 1.

Germany was fighting Russia and England at that time. Russia has a little bit of a revolution in February 1917.

Now, there was this guy called Lenin who had been stirring up communism in Russia, and he had been thrown out of Russia because the Tsar wasn’t happy about it.

He was hiding, and stirring up trouble from far away. But after the February Revolution in Russia Germany helped him get back to Russia to overthrow the current Russian government. By so doing, Germany snuffed out Russian opposition to Germany.

Lenin led the October Revolution of 1917, and that revolution established the communists as the power in Russia.

However, there were a lot of factions and opposing parties even in this communist government.  Power and alliances shifted constantly, and it was very hard to trust anyone.  It was a vicious and bloody power struggle. The entire infrastructure that people relied on to live (food water, fuel to heat their homes) was vanished, and the struggle for power raged on.

Lenin eliminated this by established a one-party system, halting debate. All those who disagreed with his rule were killed or imprisoned during this time known as the Red Terror.

But Lenin could not live forever. There were two people likely to take over after him: Joseph Stalin and Lev Trotsky. Trotsky hung out at this bedside, but Stalin was out solidifying his  own support structure. Lenin is said to have expressed concern about Stalin before his death.

But when Lenin died, Stalin seized power and exiled Trotsky. The merest hint of “Trotskyism” was a death sentence for communist supporters. Stalin would not tolerate any disagreement.

He erased Trotsky from the history books.

There was a plan that started while Lenin was alive to change the farms. Joseph Stalin created a Five-year plan that collectivized the farms in the Soviet Union. Rather than allow people to own land and farm it as they had before, he arranged for all the land to be owned and managed by the state. About 11 million people died, in particular starving to death during this time in 1932-33. Ukrainians suffered the most.

In 1936-38 Stalin ruled over the Great Purges in which Soviet’s records show 1,548-366 people killed, many by gas chambers, which probably inspired the death camps of the Nazis so soon after.

Stalin would not tolerate any disagreement, naming it “Social disorder” and eliminating anyone he suspected.

News of these inconceivable tragedies did not leak. How easy was it to keep the people too afraid to say anything? When death owned the boulevards, it was best to stay quiet.

Great Britain and America did not fully trust Russia, but during World War II, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Russia lost even more lives fighting Germany, an estimated 20 million.

When the Nazis were finally defeated, the Soviet Union spread this one-party “democracy” of communism in what became known as the Eastern Bloc of Europe.

But before World War II ended for America, nuclear weapons were unleashed upon the world. By America, no less. Russia developed nuclear bombs as soon as they possibly could, and that is when this Cold War became a thing.

America and the Communists played the world as a chessboard with smaller countries as pawns. Revolutions and Counter-Revolutions were masterminded from Moscow and D.C.

Both countries were sure that Science and Technology were the answers to being the ultimate authority. And in 1957, the Soviets launched Sputnik, the world-orbiting satellite that inspires me from this distant point in the future, but which scared Americans sleepless at the time.

Which bring us to 61 years ago. And there is still a lot more to explain before I can give the story of Korean the description it deserved.

Thank you for reading this far. It took me a long time to comb out the facts of this part of history, and I know this will give you all something to think about, even if you disagree with my conclusions.

I will say this is the opinion I have formed mostly from novels and my personal experience.  I am an American, and that informs my opinion. I know that there are many things I have not considered and others will have a very different interpretation of events.

These books have informed my opinion:

Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx

Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell

Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Thing Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

Frida (2002 movie)

Animal Farm and 1984 helped to confirm what I had pieced together

A number of English books I read in Russia during my stay by blacklisted American authors that are so obscure to not be google-able

Life finds a Way

Sourdough has always been part of my life. As a person born and raised in Alaska, I have the credentials to call myself a Sourdough. Sourdough was part of the Alaskan gold rush, and people who came over at that time all had sourdough to get them through the winter. It was a nourishing and forgiving food. The starter would be revived with a little warmth water and flour, and make the flour rise into biscuits, bread and pancakes to keep the gold miner alive. An old Sourdough is the word for an experienced Alaskan.

I had made sourdough pancakes, and diverse baked products.

It always confused me to find “Sourdough Bread” in the California bakery section. Except for a slight tangy taste, this bread was indistinguishable from the French loaves beside it, which was the opposite of the tough sourdough I knew from my childhood.

But something made me decide to try making this fancy sourdough bread this weekend.

Have you noticed a new interest in DIY home crafts? The hippies used to do this. I looked up on the Internet how to make ARTISAN sourdough bread.

I wanted my daughter to learn to appreciate the glory of wild yeast sourdough.

So I brought her into the process, having her take a deep sniff of the starter, inhaling the yeasty scent. She saw the first mix, when I took the starter out of the fridge and added it to the flour, water and sugar the night before. Maybe six tiny bubbles decorated the surface of the started.

But in the morning, the whole mess was a foamy mass! Here Veronica got a second noseful, along with a sincere WOW. This was really science. This was alive, and THIS was how the ancient romans made bread.

Just like we were going to!

But oh my lord, this recipe was complicated! It was a three-day project! I had started it the night before but we still had hours and hours of small tasks to complete this artisan frenchy sourdough bread.

First we mix it, and then there were complicated restings, and single kneadings that had to be spaced out by a half hour each time over the course of 3 hours.

I confess, I had better stuff to do. I lost the vision when we stopped to have dinner with Veronica’s Grandma.

After I got her to bed, I looked at this half-tended mass of dough. What had I gotten myself into? Had I ruined this sourdough bread I had talked up so much to my daughter?

Four ingredients:

Sourdough starter




But this frou frou Frenchy bread wanted so much touching and tending! No way a real Sourdough would have put up with this nonsense.

I started at the shaggy risen mass.

No way was I throwing this away! My daughter was going to find out what happened with this project, no matter if it failed.

Besides, THIS was sourdough. Sourdough is tough and it’s alive. It’s forgiving. I narrowed my eyes at it, and gave it a little sprinkle of flour (NOT in the recipe) and began the slow half-hour-at-a-time kneading process the recipe called for.

I cleaned up the kitchen, and tending this dough. Per the fussy recipe, I set it in specially prepared dishes to rest in the fridge overnight and we all got some rest.

In the morning, there was even more fussiness to back the dough blobs. Preheat the pan, then cook it for 20 minutes. Then turn down the heat for ten minutes. THEN take the lid off and cook it for 25 more minutes. Then turn out the loaf and DON’T CUT IT YET!

We must wait again for 2 hours for it to fully be ready.

I only have one pot with a lid that can do this bread baking duty. Veronica woke up at the PERFECT time to see the first loaf be tipped out to cool, and then sit with me through all these dance steps to get the second loaf.

We sat on the kitchen floor and talked about family things. And I looked up at the first loaf that was cooling.

It looked right. I couldn’t know for sure until I cut it open.

“Veronica, knock on the crust. It’s supposed to sound hollow.”

She rapped her knuckles on the hard top, and pulled her hand away with a shocked face.

It HAD made a satisfying hollow thump, but “what’s wrong? Is it too hot still?”

“No, it’s really HARD.”

Yeah, that crust could slow a battering ram.

We cut it open after church, and it was not disappointing. Chris said, “This is not as sour as sourdough from the store”

“That’s because the stuff from the store has nothing to do with sourdough, except maybe some flavoring! THIS is real living sourdough.”

The bread itself was elastic and felt nourishing, just like sourdough does. There is a little something extra happening when life itself, in the form of the wild yeast of sourdough, cooperates with me.

I was so glad that I trusted this living organism sourdough to forgive me for not following the correct procedure from the recipe.

I did what I could, and I didn’t give up. We had a family adventure along the way.

Once again, sourdough is giving me lessons about life and survival. Show up. Keep trying. Do the simple little action, even if it’s not exactly the right time.

It will work out.

A place in History

Two things dominated this weekend:
The Royal Wedding

Cleaning my boudoir

I’d been working so hard on cleaning my boudoir, which is the third bedroom in my little home. I have boxes and boxes of notebooks, and papers and photographs that I had to move in order to paint the walls. The walls had been patched because of having the electrical redone.

So, I had to move them all to paint behind them. And when it came time to put them back, I realized that quite a lot of it could be tossed.

On Friday night, Chris asked me if I was going to watch the royal wedding. I said I didn’t know anything about it. He caught me up on who was marrying whom, and I suddenly realized I knew Rachel, because I had watched Suits for a while.

How cool is that!

So Saturday, as I was staring in dismay at my boxes of everything, I turned on the royal wedding. I was thinking it was good background TV while I sorted through all these things.

I am a notebook person. I had saved all these notes, with anything from grocery lists, to year plans (a LOT of year plans) and the occasional gorgeous poem and short story.

It was for those poems and stories that I never threw the notebooks away.

But there were other papers.

That one time that I was considering suing an employer and had gathered evidence.

Or the notes from a relationship gone bad.

But this WEDDING! The pomp and circumstance that had to be part of a historied monarchy.


To me, it felt incredibly homey. The young bridesmaids and pages, holding the train and following the American soon-to-be Princess through the church.

With the brothers sitting next to each other, waiting for the bride to show up. YES, they are princes. But they were also two brothers who love each other and support each other.

There were all the elements of exactly every ordinary wedding I’ve ever seen. The dress, the little bit of drama. The nervousness, and the absolutely love and support from all the people attending.

I couldn’t tear myself away. Or stop googling all the details.

And, that’s kinda what happens at a family wedding, too. When and aunt or a cousin catches me up on the details of everything that I didn’t know.

What does this have to do with my notebooks?


As I look through all my notebooks, I have to wonder. Do these things matter to anyone else but me?

In that light, it was easy to toss the history of things that had caused pain. The bad job reviews, the old painful relationships.

And as I thought about the rest of these historical artifacts, I wondered who would actually care about all of them.

I flipped through. I remembered and the feelings rushed over me.

Boy, I’m glad I am living the life I am living.

I’m pretty happy with my choices.

Maybe the point of saving all these STUFF was for me to get the value out of reviewing it this time.

It’s easy to toss some of it out. Others are harder.

Like, I wanted to keep some of these things to prove something. That I was RIGHT, or that I DESERVED BETTER.


Watching all those people in the wedding, and feeling what I felt about it (as a stranger, whose only  connection to these people is a shared humanity), I came to the realization that I didn’t need to prove any of that to the people who might read this stuff.

They were family and they already loved me.

I didn’t need to prove I was worthy.

There’s a place for me at this table. So the history that gets in the way of that can be dropped.

Yes Boss


I’m looking for work again, so I’m at home sending applications. It’s lonely work, and this thought is large in my head:

Wouldn’t it be nice to be my own boss?

I’m finding audiobooks from my local library to keep me company while I am alone, working on working. I found one called The Top 10 Distinctions between Bosses and Employees

One of the big distinctions this author points out is that bosses find solutions and employees solve problems.

See, employees have a set of tasks they need to complete. Usually these tasks are well defined. The employee is supposed to figure out how to do those things, and solve any problems in getting them done.

Now, in my last job, I had to supervise big crews of workers. The tasks would be defined and my part was to make sure they were communicated to the crew.

The crew knew how to do each of the things, even though I didn’t.

I couldn’t do their job, but one of the aspects of my job was to make sure that they kept working. With 10 people at a job site, with a week’s worth of work, I’d have to make sure that all 10 people were working on something all the time.

The WORST THING would be to have a person sitting and waiting for something to do.

I’d make sure to walk around and check on what everyone was doing. Not only did I make sure they were doing something right this minute, I’d make sure they knew what to do NEXT. That way they wouldn’t hesitate to move on to the next thing.

If I want to be my own boss, I basically have to do that for myself:

Have a set of things to do, and make sure I keep moving forward on each of the tasks in the most efficient order.

That’s a lot harder.

Having an employee mindset and solving problems means there was someone else who nicely packaged up the problems and gave them to you.

I wish that I had nicely packaged problems for my life, really. This book (which is a lightweight little book) wants to tell me how BOSSES handle that differently.


Basically, the bosses are the ones who create the packaged problems

But, if I am to be my own boss?

I have to be the one deciding the work I need to do and then the one doing it.

It takes a special set of skills to do that.

That little book didn’t talk about that.