You can pick your friends ...

Those of you with whom I've worked and played over the years know that I'm way curious about how we create great places to work and play. 

How is it that some newsrooms, some newspapers, are so much smarter than others? If we could create the perfect place to work, would we?

So I stumbled, I mean totally randomly stumbled, upon Kurt Deutscher's observations today. Had to share: Choosing a new hire? Ask a two-year-old.

Meet my pal, Sandy Mandala

One of my inspirations for this blog is the work of a friend who'd been building a significant repository of thought and observations over at his blog.

I'd give you a link to it, but that'd unravel the story.

It was a job blog, but it was a love blog, too. Love of life, love of selected family members, love of music -- all laid out there for us like so many good-looking snacks at a casual cocktail party. I never really wanted all of his posts on my plate, they didn't all resonate with me, but I was pretty satisfied with most of them. Reading what he wrote made me laugh, made me think, made me cry, made me want to do more with my life. (The best blogs do, don't they? Here's one: And she sings, too!)

On days when things were just too crazy and we wouldn't have a chance to talk, it was nice to have sort of a surreal connection to him through his blog. New posts, old posts, it didn't really matter. Just knowing he was there, wondering what he was thinking, wondering what I'd think about what he was thinking, was ... nice. 

Comforting. Inspiring. 

"Mmmm, I wish I'd written that." Or "Geez, why didn't I go to that concert?" Or "Stacking rocks? Who stacks rocks?"

And then one day -- poof! He nuked it.

I'll let him decide whether to tell you why. It is, after all, his story.

I'm out of town and his blog freaking disappears.

I was at 5,000 feet where the air is thinner anyway, but g-sus, something about not having that connection left me so short of breath, so baffled, so ... adrift.

A couple of days later, I'm in the local art museum gift shop with friends. My girlbuddy A.C., a Zen sort from way back, has discovered this fabulous toy. Except it's better than a toy. It's like a Japanese/Chinese Etch-A-Sketch. She's "painting" on a flat white surface with a brush. It's actually a brush dipped in water, and her creation goes on in black. It's soothing and beautiful -- but after a couple of minutes, it disappears. Evaporates! Poof! Totally transitory!

We don't give enough credence to the transitory nature of this medium. Poof! It could be gone tomorrow. Maybe it should be. Maybe my friend is on to something.

All I can say is, Google caching rocks. 

My turn

I get so flustered when people ask me questions. It's just not my nature; I'm usually not on the receiving end of questioning.
"What's your favorite book? What are your favorite movies?" Geeeez, I don't know. There are so many.
And then I started thinking about it last night.
What HAVE I read lately?
I just can't sit still that long.
I can't even sit still to get through the freaking Sunday Times.
What is wrong with me, that I can't focus and enjoy reading for more than five minutes at a shot?
I'll blame the speed-reading nature of my job.
Which depresses me even further.

So, here's a question for you.
I live across the street from a gloriously smooth and well-maintained bike/hike trail along the Genesee River. I'm thinking about buying some inline skates to sate my off-season skating jones.
What do I need to know about inline skating? Do I really need that package of wrist/elbow/knee pads that Dick's Sporting Goods sells for $30? Are my odds of falling on my ass greater than if I were skating on ice? And how the heck do you stop? Same way as on normal skates?

I'll let you know how it goes. Photos possible.