After spending three weeks in academia, with no time to read newspapers or watch the news, let alone be active on Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook and such, it’s been interesting getting (slowly) back into the swing of things. Today, in between researching topics on peer-reviewed journals for a paper I have to write, I caught up on some blogs. (Er, can you spell “procrastinate,” class?)

I’ve been neglecting blogs, and not just my own. Looking through my feeds, I see several blogs that have 200 posts I have not read, nor is it likely I will get to them. The ones I do read regularly — and make sure to catch up on during times like this — are written by people I know, feel I know, like and respect, or that make me laugh or are related to work or inspire me. It seems the ones that fall into the category of 200+ unread posts are the ones that just post too darned often. And yes, every day is too often, no matter how brilliant you are.

But having time to write for and read blogs is all a matter of maintaining balance, something my team tackled in a group presentation we had to do last week for the Public Speaking course (go Team 3!). We took the position that cramming the extra 15-20 hours of work that will apparently be required of our BA program is doable. We tried to make it clear, though, that adding extra schoolwork means adjusting time spent elsewhere, not taking away family time or neglecting our health. After all, if Canadians typically watch about 22 hours of TV a week, how difficult can it be to pry ourselves away from the tube and instead hit the books?

By coincidence, one of the blog posts I read today touched on the very topic of balance. The always inspiring Colleen Wainwright, Communicatrix, suggested shared an update to the instruction often given by agencies and independents: “Fast. Good. Cheap. Pick any two.” In other words, if you want it good and you want it tomorrow, be prepared to pay extra for it.

Colleen suggests credits the hilarious David Sedaris (writing in The New Yorker) for the “Four Burner” model worth aspiring to: “Family. Friends. Health. Work. Pick any three.”

The idea is not that you can’t have all four; Colleen says, “it’s that you can’t have an exceptional level of all four at once.” So if you are a workaholic, and your family and friends are important to you, then maybe your health is going to suffer. Or if family is everything, one of the other three is going to get a lot less attention. Or, you’re going to keep juggling all the balls in the air by merely doing the best you can, and that’s fine. Her advice:

“Pick one to hit out of the park or pick a life that lets you gracefully enjoy a bit from the sampler plate of all four. Pick, though. Pick today, and then pick again tomorrow…”

The key here is making it a thoughtful choice.

(In case you’re wondering, the photo above is the bridge in the Japanese garden at Royal Roads University in B.C.)

There are few things more intimidating in the photo world than a passport picture. Maybe it’s because you know it’s going to stick with you for at least five years, and the “neutral” expression you’re supposed to have will actually end up making you look grim and ill. In fact, you’ll look more like a terrorist than ever. And isn’t that just perfect, when everyone at the airport is already so touchy?

My passport expires this fall, so getting my photo taken is on my list of things to do. So I laughed when I found — through the serendipity of the web — this perspective, called Has Anybody Seen My Lost Looks? from Jenny Allen in More Magazine:

“The last time they took your two-by-two inch photo, back in the day, you were OK-looking, even in that ghoulish post office fluorescence. You didn’t think you looked OK at the time, but it turns out you were incorrect. You should have appreciated the medium-attractive looks you had…You could have taken pleasure in them! You could have used them to get people to sleep with you and buy you things!…Particularly in light of recent events. Recent events being that your looks seem to have gone away.”

The hilarious Colleen Wainwright aka Communicatrix also blogged about the endless preparation leading up to getting a passport photo taken, in the hopes of looking OK:

“I’d think about getting my passport photo taken, the first step in crossing ‘Renew (expired) passport’ off my list, and then I’d think, ‘Well, I’ll just wait until…’ Until my hair was freshly colored. Until my hair was having a good day. Until I’d figured out an outfit, and bought some makeup, and had had enough sleep. Until, that is, monkeys flew out of my ass. In formation. Typing Shakespeare.”

You may be wondering what communications has to do with passport photos, and yes, there is a link. I think we see ourselves based in part on the feedback we get. When we don’t get much in the way of positive feedback, we might think it’s because there is nothing good to say. More likely, it’s because others just aren’t thinking about your looks, or maybe they think you don’t need it.

For example, when I was on vacation recently, I met a strong, vibrant 60-something woman who really was beautiful, though perhaps not in the tiny, airbrushed model sense. She was absolutely floored when I told her so.

In the case of your corporate job, others expect you to do good work and you do; most times, they don’t think about complimenting or praising you for it. There’s a reason that employee surveys often show that management (sorry, “leadership” is the current buzzword) is doing a less-than-stellar job of reward and recognition.

So here’s an idea. Let’s all try to compliment people a little more. Express appreciation for work done well, even if you expect it, the person has never done anything BUT good work or it’s part of the job. Recognize when someone has gone out of their way for you.

And if all else fails, take heart that you really don’t look much like your passport photo, especially when you smile. So smile!

A dog-walking buddy (someone encountered while we were both walking our dogs) recently lost one of her dogs to cancer. Holly was just two, really still a puppy, so my friend thought there was lots of time for treatment. There wasn’t. Holly died within two weeks of the cancer diagnosis.

People — mostly those who don’t HAVE a dog — will say, oh, it’s just a dog. But it’s never ‘just a dog’ to someone who has been on the receiving end of the total adoration that is a dog’s bond with his or her human.

When my husband and I finally gave in to the pleading and agreed to get a dog, I seriously thought about how old our youngest son would be when the dog inevitably died, reassuring myself that he’d be old enough to handle it. There was no question that my own ability to handle it would be iffy, at best.

There was a wonderful piece in today’s Toronto Star on losing a dog that eloquently captures how I  know I will feel when Jake dies. Lauren Crothers writes:

“Grieving for a dog is an incredibly profound experience and no easier than the death of a human…While trawling the web for information on the process of euthanasia — so I would know how Murphy was going to die — I came across a comment left by someone along the lines of, ‘Who cares? It’s just a dog.’ It is for fear of this kind of reaction that many dog owners internalize their pain as they grieve. Just because it had four legs, chewed all the baseboards in the kitchen and perked up its ears at the sight of a bone doesn’t make the hurt any easier to bear.”

And later,

“Death is not easy to come to terms with. Losing a best friend is particularly difficult. It is never ‘just a dog.’”

I sent my friend a card to acknowledge her grief; it had a touching photo of an empty collar and leash on the front, which was enough to bring a lump to my own throat. Even though Jake, too, chewed all the baseboards in our kitchen, sheds so much that daily vacuuming is needed to keep the tumbleweeds of fur down, and has had me out walking in rain, snow and sub-zero weather, I know I’ll miss him when it’s his turn to go.

For now, thankfully, it’s just his turn to go for a walk.

Tell me you do this, too — as you flip past the newspaper section containing obituaries, you can’t help but stop and read the ones accompanied by a photo of a young-looking person.

Here’s why I do it. Having lost a few friends to cancer, I feel compelled to find out if that’s what ended the lives of these young people. And so many times the obituary does read that the person died of cancer. Inevitably, it’s after “a long battle” or a “courageous battle” with cancer, or sometimes it’s a “short but courageous battle.” Always a battle; nobody goes gracefully, although sometimes they are said to be “at peace” or “surrounded by loved ones.”

I don’t know why this concept of a battle bugs me, but I’m not alone. An empassioned column about cancer in the New York Times shares that dislike. In “Let’s face it: Words are inadequate,” Dana Jennings writes:

“We like to say that people ‘fight’ cancer because we wrestle fearfully with the notion of ever having the disease. But after staggering through prostate cancer and its treatment — surgery, radiation and hormone therapy — the words ‘fight’ and ‘battle’ make me cringe and bristle…It pays to have a positive outlook, I think, but that in no way translates to ‘fighting’ cancer. Cancer simply is.”

Last fall, after losing another friend to cancer, I wrote a post about how we can support friends who are going through the awful treatment for this disease. Dana says this:

“When I was sickest, most numbed by my treatment, it was more than healing to bask in a friend’s compassionate silence, to receive and give a hug, to be sustained by a genuine smile.”

In the comments to Dana’s post, three of the “top 20 statements people with cancer want the rest of us to know” are these:

• “Telling me to think positively can make me feel worse.”
• “Hearing platitudes or what’s good about cancer can trivialize my feelings.”
• “I need you to listen to me and let me cry.”

His is a touching and heartfelt article; do read it. And let’s not talk about battles any more.

Thanks to Patti Digh and her inspiring 37 Days blog (“What would you be doing today if you only had 37 days to live?”) for pointing me to Dana’s column.

Disaster puts our petty little problems into context, doesn’t it? If you feel inclined to help the people of Haiti struggling after yesterday’s earthquake, here’s a suggestion:

My colleague (through the Halton-Peel Communications Assocation) Marnie Hughes was project coordinator for the International Conference of Healing Hands for Haiti in Toronto last November. She says, “I was fortunate to meet many individuals from Haiti, Canada and the U.S. who have dedicated the past 10 years to providing rehabilitative medicine and education to the disabled of Haiti. After yesterday’s devastating earthquake, what is left of their facility will be put to use helping, where possible, even more vulnerable Haitians. It would mean a great deal if you would consider directing your help to www.healinghandsforhaiti.org. Thank you very much for considering this.”

As always, the American Red Cross and Canadian Red Cross are also providing assistance. And so is Free The Children.

Just a couple of years ago, today would have been a travel day. I’d have my bag packed, a batch of shortbread made, and would be (probably frantically) doing some last-minute work this morning before heading to the airport for a Thursday-to-Sunday pre-Christmas getaway. Destination: Vancouver, and the home of my very best friend from — and the highlight of — my high school days.

Sometimes, between the demands of work and my own family and getting ready for Christmas, it seemed impossible to even think of getting away, but I did. We got ready for Christmas together every year that Dale spent in Vancouver. Usually, we went to pick out a tree together, set it up and decorated it. I made more shortbread with her two daughters. We went Christmas shopping. We made meals, laughed, hung out with her son and daughters, caught up on each other’s lives and laughed some more. Even the mundane chores of life with small children, when they were small, were somehow easier because it was like having two moms in the house.

Well, you know where this is heading. Dale died of multiple myeloma in January, 2005. So I can’t tell you how glad I am that I made a point of visiting every single year, no matter what was going on.

Jean Gogolin, a speechwriter friend met through the serendipity of the Internet, shared in a recent newsletter an interesting perspective on the need for balance in life, contained in a speech by Coca-Cola CEO Bryan Dyson:

“Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them — work, family, health, friends and spirit, and you’re keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls — family, health, friends and spirit — are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. It will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.”

I love that description, and he’s right. Every time I’ve thought “I can’t possibly get away, I’ve got too much work,” but I’ve done it anyway — to visit Dale, to take a one-hour skiing lesson once a week, to help out occasionally in my sons’ classrooms when they were small — the work has been there when I returned, and it got done. And my family, health, friends and spirit have been the better for my choice.

So don’t neglect your work, but make sure it doesn’t cause you to scuff or shatter the other balls in your life.

All the fuss about Tiger Woods this week (who is thankfully no longer the top trending topic on Twitter) just made me think this:

If those who are already gorgeous, thin and rich — like Elin Nordegren and Shania Twain, for American and Canadian examples — are having trouble reaching happily-ever-after, why do so many people hang their hopes on a good life on getting rid of wrinkles, losing 10 pounds and winning the lottery?

Don’t wait to live your life. Go do it now.

I lost another friend last week, this time to inflammatory breast cancer. It’s a particularly nasty form that often comes on suddenly, acting similar to mastitis (also an inflammation, usually related to breastfeeding), and spreads quickly. Her oncologist had only seen 12 cases in his practice, and every one of the women who had it died.

By chance, my husband and I had been in her town three weeks earlier and arranged to visit; two weeks later, she was gone. The funeral was this past weekend. (This is a good time to remind you to hug the people you love every chance you get!)

I recently heard that another friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer; fortunately, not the inflammatory kind. So far, she’s had a lumpectomy, and I will be in touch this week to see where things are at. Two other friends have been through breast cancer treatments and recently passed the magical five-year mark.

So over the years, I’ve been collecting suggestions on how to best support a friend who has cancer. These are some ideas:

Make sure she knows about community support groups. Wellspring is one resource in many Canadian cities that offers workshops and discussions, newsletters, a lending library and a quiet place to meet with other patients and family members who share similar concerns, questions and needs. The one near me has sessions coming up that deal with post-treatment depression and eating well on a budget.

Go online and get informed. One of the first places to look online is a reputable organization like the Canadian Cancer Society. Whether or not your friend goes online, you should, to learn as much as you can.

Get involved, if your friend wants you to. Maybe you can drive your friend to appointments, or sit with her when she’s going through chemo. Find out if she feels like a visitor.

Offer practical help, and be specific. Rather than say, “Let me know if I can help,” say “When can I…” and offer to do something — housekeeping, laundry, shopping, updating other friends on her progress. Bring dinner or goodies you know she likes (call first) but may not feel like making herself; best if it’s something she can freeze and reheat in case someone else has brought something.

Stay in touch. The treatment cycle is long, and people sometimes feel awkward about checking in because they don’t know what to say. (How about just, “I was thinking of you”?) Keep in touch by e-mail. Randomly send a card or flowers to let her know you are thinking of her.

Have you helped support a friend with cancer? What did you do?

Through the serendipity of the web, I somehow came across a blog called 37 Days. Asheville, North Carolina writer Patti Digh asked the question, “What would I be doing today if I only had 37 days to live?” after her stepfather was diagnosed with lung cancer, and died 37 days later.  She later turned the experience into a book, Life is a Verb: 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally.

I just love how she describes its philosophy:

“Life takes action, not wishful thinking. It takes mindfulness and intention. It takes slowing down and saying yes and being generous and being amazed and loving more.”

Hear, hear.

Have you read it? What did you think?

Tired of reading/hearing about all the layoffs, bankruptcies and other bad news filling the media these days? Do something! Here’s Michael Katz’s suggestion: spend your way to an economic boost for your own town.

Michael is “Chief Penguin” (aka president) of Blue Penguin Development and author of the e-newsletter that’s at the top of my “Damn, I wish I wrote that” file. He tells engaging stories that always have a point related to newsletters and building relationships with your customers.

“Here’s the problem,” he says. “Expectation plays a big role in the state of the economy. A good part of our decision to spend money is based on what we think will happen…So we hang onto our money. Even if we still have a job and a paycheck, and even though we understand that by spending less we’re only contributing to the problem.”

His idea is that once a month, on the 20th, we should agree to spend $20 “in the towns where we live and watch as it gives our neighbors (and ourselves) an economic boost.”

Sign up with Michael to receive a reminder every Thursday to go and spend $20. Then, go and spend $20. Really, life is too short not to.