See you next fall

January 1st and I have what you might call a tumultuous relationship. Oh sure, I'm always happy when it comes around, but then something inevitably happens to break the mood.

For example last New Year's Day, I found myself in the ER with my blood pressure somewhere between steam coming out of a pressure cooker and a lovely hillside view. That was because at the time, I'd been prescribed a new med which, come to find out, funny thing, I was deathly allergic to. Doctors, amIrite?

Anyway, this new year the tradition continued. We got home from a lovely time at our annual January 1st brunch with the usual suspects. I was in the kitchen by the fabulous new farmer's sink we put in during our remodel a couple years ago, and turned around to walk back into the living room.

Unbeknownced to me, my teeny, tiny, virtually invisible 90-lb. German Shepherd had stealthily snuck up behind me and was standing there. When I turned to go, I went ass-over-teakettle (hence the picture) into a wall, the refrigerator and finally landed face down on the kitchen floor like a bag of rocks.

Physical comedy was never my strong suit.

My son happened to be sitting in a chair that faces our open kitchen and saw the entire event. He quickly came over to ask if I was ok, which I was. Besides my knee, arm, back and cheek, the only thing that was injured was my pride. And my until then perfect tour en l'air (look it up).

So bruised but undaunted, I continue into the new year with a brand new resolution—to try to be more careful and aware of my surroundings every January 1st.

And look both ways while crossing the kitchen.

Clocked out

My pal Rich Siegel at Round Seventeen wrote a great post about the expectation of you working late if you work at Chiat. Which, if you've ever worked there, know is absolutely true.

But it's not only true of them.

Here's the thing: if I'd wanted to keep doctors hours, I would've been a doctor. Which would've made my parents very happy. Then, I wouldn't have had to explain what I do over and over to them. They never understood. Many times I don't either.

I didn't become a doctor for many reasons. One of which was that I didn't want to be on call at all hours of the night. I think it came right below "I'm not smart enough," "I'm not doing prostate exams," and "Who'd be stupid enough to have me as their doctor?"

I've been working on a major automotive client which shall go nameless - Toyota - that I've worked on before and enjoy.

Only this time I've been doing it through a small, virtual marketing agency that I've never worked at before. The experience has been something short of pleasant (except for the checks: that part's been very pleasant).

For some odd reason, this company is under the mistaken notion I'm on call 24/7, just waiting for their last minute copy changes. Which usually come after their last minute change in direction. The other night, I had no less than eight emails from them that arrived between 1 a.m. and 3:30 a.m.

I didn't read them until I woke up around 7 a.m. And I'm pretty sure if they'd taken a breath and thought about it, they'd have realized those emails didn't need to be sent in the middle of the night. No action was going to be taken on them (certainly not by me), and they could've gotten a good nights sleep (always thinking of others - it's my curse).

My friend Janice used to have this sign in her office:

I think I've found the Christmas card I'm sending to agencies this year.