And WE get a recognized marriage! And YOU! And YOU! AND YOU! WE ALL GET A RECOGNIZED MARRIAGE! YEA!!! And I’m really glad my expat friends can now move to America with their spouses if they wish!! Continue reading
My bosses were so excited to have me back at the office after my vacation, they immediately booked me on a last-minute business trip to Italy. I’m now at the airport watching the planes come and go before I leave.
Meanwhile, Martin, Syenna, and the kids spent the day at a chocolate factory.
This summer shows no sign of slowing down!
The moon, Jupiter, Venus, and Venice in the lower right. Continue reading
A coworker just came up and asked quietly, “Can I borrow some of your alcohol?”
As I slowly leaned over to my bottom drawer, he goes, “No. This one,” and then took two squirts from my hand sanitizer.
Truth? I have rubbing alcohol in there with a first aid kit. But I like to keep them guessing.
My boss made a comment about the locks being removed from the Paris bridge.Word on the street is that a section fell into the river, narrowly missing a boat. I think that’s the safety issue officials are using to remove the locks.
Of course, I spoke up to share my thoughts on the whole thing, praising the decision to remove the locks, and speaking how ridiculous it is for couples to do that. It’s so gross. Many locks are rusting, and gunk collects on them. I am not a fan of the practice and am glad they are being removed. Peace & love to all those who left a lock, but Martin and I just went with tattoos instead.
(You know where this is going, right?)
My boss smiled and was like, “Yeah. My wife and I have a lock on there.”
It’s my last full week at work, which means free lunch from those who are going to miss me!
Man, I’m going to miss this food. But even more, I’m going to miss these wonderful, brilliant, hilarious, and thoughtful coworkers who are going to miss me, too.
[dropcap style=”color: #9b9b9b;”]I [/dropcap] took my mother to work with me earlier this week. She commuted with me via car, Metro subway, and taxi, got to sit in my office, shake hands with my supervisor, chit-chat with my coworkers, and take in the view of the Capitol Building from the top floor. She also met up with one of her childhood friends from her small Texas hometown. They first met in first grade and stayed classmates all through high school. Now, her friend works just two blocks away from my office, one of the folks responsible for the Capitol Dome restoration.
Small world, right?
Frankly, I think there should be a National Take Your Parent to Work day, just like the day for children, but for the ones who raised you. (After I typed that, I googled it. It’s an actual thing for millenials.) I think my mother got a kick out of seeing what it is I do, where I spend my hours, how frenetic the pace here is in Washington DC.
I made plans with her to do it again with my new job in Germany. 🙂
My mother and I were going through my closet, and as she pulls out one of my print shirts, I said, “I bought that before realizing it’s a little too old-lady for me.”
And she goes, “Sweetie, you’re over 30 now. I think it’s just fine.”
[dropcap style=”color: #9b9b9b;”]I[/dropcap] bumped into Paul — a good friend and former colleague of mine — while attending a social media summit at the Eisenhower Executive Office Building at the White House earlier today.
Paul and I worked together for a few years at the Pentagon, when I was still active duty in the Air Force and he was a contractor. After my deployment, and after senior leadership realized that an Airman *could* blog about her deployment and not ruin the military, I was put on the team (which included Paul and my girl Moe, and JV, and others) that ultimately wrote the first policy on social media for the Department of Defense.
These days, the both of us work for the same department (but different agencies), so it’s not too unusual to cross paths. This time, it was at an event with a bunch of other federal workers from across the government, all who specialize in the communications, data, and information career fields.
There were three panels of speakers, all professional communicators, who shared some success stories and lessons learned from their sites and organizations. It was a great opportunity to meet others in the field and put some faces with the names I see in emails and various correspondence across the Internets.
My dad has said more than once that he always hesitates before telling people what it is that I do. Of course, he hesitated over the past year when my department was in the news all the time for a certain website and all that jazz.
“Why can’t you work at NASA?” he’s asked. “People know what happens at NASA. I wouldn’t have to explain.”
But he also admits he isn’t really sure how to explain what I do because public affairs specialist can mean a lot of things.
Each time he says that, I remind him he wouldn’t be wrong to just call me a professional communicator. I take official information and I relay it to the public in a variety of ways.
There’s a little bit of marketing. A little bit of PR. A lot of program management. A lot of writing. A lot of multimedia. Sometimes traditional media. And as the summit summarized today, social media and data, too.
All for the government.
And always for the people.
And most of the time, I work with some really awesome people like Paul.
And sometimes I get to take pictures like this one …
1:14 a.m. – I’m not the only night owl around here.
I messed with my coworkers again this morning by showing up earlier than I normally do. I normally work later hours, so there’s always a glance at the clock, and a check of the watches in case their time is wrong. Ha!
This happened yesterday.
I work on the same floor as the Secretary of HHS, and she’s hosting a brown bag lunch for HHS interns in the formal reception room, which means the hallways are filled with anxious young adults eager to make good impressions.
It was hard to miss them as I raced to the elevators to get lunch, barely making it to the closing doors in time. But I stuck my arm in, the doors slid open, and I jumped inside. I don’t know if it was my badge, or the bags under my eyes, the way I lean in, or the gray hair, but the six interns inside the elevator suddenly went quiet and stood up a little straighter as I made eye contact.
“So, these elevators have sensors?” one girl finally asked. I turned and answered, “Oh, yes. These will open for you. The Metro, though? Those doors don’t have sensors, and they WILL amputate your leg.”
This was met by polite giggles and nodding of heads.
The elevator reached our cafeteria, and I nodded at them as I stepped out first. Just as I turned the corner out of eyesight, though, I heard another girl cautiously ask, “Um, has that really happened? Will the Metro REALLY amputate your leg?”