Putting a Price on my Head

Ahhh... What a wonderful thing the current economy is. It has opened up all sorts of new possibilities for so many people, myself included. Today I got to experience yet another of those.

I've been offered (or at least "informational interviewed for") a new freelance gig. It would be about 15 to 20 hours per week for at least the next 6 to 8 weeks. I could do it without leaving my current part-time job. And it would still allow me evenings and weekends as my own time -- either to look for other work or to actually attempt a social life ("attempt" being an operative word on my current income).

The job would be kind of a cross between website copywriting and project management. It's a fairly exciting project, actually, with a lot of ins and outs and a lot of autonomy. The subject matter is totally up my alley. Heck. If all goes well, it could even extend beyond the end of the currently planned timeframe.

Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? Well, here's the deal: I know plenty of people who work in the industry as copywriters, designers, project managers, and the like. And I know that the average per hour rates could -- at least before these fun economic times -- run anywhere from a bare minimum of $25/hour up into the $100s/hour. This job? Well... This job's pay rate makes that bare minimum looks like it's wearing an Armani suit. Granted, it's more than my currently hourly rate, but nowhere near what I know the job should be paying.

When I mentioned what would be considered "standard" rates to the person in charge, the response was: "Well. I guess I could just go to one of the colleges and get someone who can work for minimum wage." When I cautioned that that might not be the wisest choice, the answer was: "I guess I could just write it myself. I mean... that would be a lot cheaper."

I'm a member of a couple of different groups of freelance writers and creative types, and I know that everyone has been through this. We all hear the same thing: Clients who feel there's no reason to hire a professional writer, designer, editor, whatever, because "anyone can do it."

** Sorry. I need to continue this rant for just a moment longer. If you'd prefer, join us after the next set of asterisks. **

Why is it that someone with 6 years of college for Writing gets the "anyone can do that" response, when all through those 6 years other people wanted me to write their papers?

Why do people pay $150 to accountants with a certificate from a 6-week course (or less) to do their taxes, when all that is is basic math, but still won't pay a living wage for the person who has literally decades of education and experience in writing in the field?

I'm more than happy to pay an expert "Drain Guy" to come out to fix the drain because I know he can do it right, do it well, and do it quickly -- why don't people hire creative types in the same way?

** End -- at least for now -- of this rant **

sigh

Right now, unfortunately, even at about 1/3 the going rate for copywriters, it would be income. And income sounds really good.

** Spellcheck fun, Day 2 ** Spellcheck is still having issues with the word "professional." Today it also highlighted "possibilities." Oh. And since it really wants me to make "timeframe" two words, I hit the suggestions button and it gave me two options for "timeframe": "time frame" or "dimorphism." Dimorphism? What the heck is that? ** End spellcheck fun, Day 2 **

And Introducing...

I have realized that there is a very good chance that some of you would enjoy some of the other blogs which I read. They're always listed along the side of my posts, but that doesn't mean that you ever read them. And you really should read them. (Since the links are in the left margin, I'm not linking to them in this post.)

If you're interested in food, you've got a few nice options. You've got someone writing from her Manhattan kitchen in Smitten Kitchen, someone in the middle of an acreage in The Spiced Life, and someone right here in the Twin Cities in Culinary in the Desert.

There's also a professional chef currently in New York City who writes Ms. Glaze's Pommes d'Amour (if you go back a-ways, you can find her stories from her time in Paris, as well). And finally a blog which is a cross between food and humor in Cake Wrecks.

If you're interested in following author Neil Gaiman, well, you can check out his eponymous Neil Gaiman's Journal.

For someone who critiques the ridiculosity of jewelry design, you can check out Perhaps I Should Be Working.

The two which are currently my favorites, though, are NajMania and Tiz and Ass. NajMania comes to us from someone I went to college with, who now lives in Fargo, North Dakota, with her husband and their four boys. The stories are written from the heart, and often make me laugh from the belly.

Almost diametrically opposed to the family-friendly NajMania is the rather more risque Tiz and Ass. Both have heart and soul, but... wow... so different.

Tiz and Ass follows the musings of a friend of mine who is a working actress out of New York City. "Miz Tiz" (as she sometimes signs herself) writes her tales of heartbreak and belly laughs partially as therapy and partially as a wonderful way to keep the world in touch with her.

Please take the time to check out these various blogs. They're a lot of fun.

And, if you do, come back here afterward and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from all of you!

** Odd sidenote ** I decided I'd try spellchecking this post. I knew many of the blog titles would get highlighted. But it also highlighted "professional" and "diametrically" -- each of which is spelled correctly. How can I be sure they are correct? Because the spell check suggestions gave me the current spellings. Odd, no? ** End Odd sidenote **

Not Taken for "Granite"

I have to say that I had a great day, today. I spent the middle portion of the day hanging out with someone I have know for... well... more than half my life.

The person in question is my friend Cindy, whom I met during my first semester in college. We've stayed in touch ever since. Although we've never lived close to each other after going our separate ways back in 1989, lots of phonecalls and letters and emails have kept us close.

And although my visits out to Idaho to see Cindy and her family have been pretty seldom (I think I've been out there twice?), I'm very lucky that she comes back to Minnesota from time to time to visit her family.

So, today, I met up with Cindy and her two kids in Stillwater (where Christopher is from), and we enjoyed some time talking while the kids played at the Teddy Bear Park. From there, we wandered down to Main Street, where we picked up lunch and picnicked on the grass near the St. Croix River. Much to the joy of Cindy's 3-year-old son, we even got to watch the lift bridge (there's a picture of it on the Stillwater site) get raised to allow for passage of one of the paddle wheel cruises to go through.

Walking back along the street, we did a little shopping before taking the kids back to the park to play (and get worn out) before Cindy packed up for another 90-minute-or-so drive.

The entire time we were together, we talked. From the time we met up, to the time they drove away. We talked about family. We talked about work. We talked about the weather. We talked about... well... everything.

And, unlike the granite teddy bears in the center of the park, I never plan to take this relationship for granted.

Sunday Quickie

Just a quick comment about last night to wrap up the three-day weekend.

While we were in South Dakota, I let Christopher in on the fact that one of my favorite kinds of "fireworks" is the smoke bomb. Just the nice, simple, no frills, colored-smoke producer. You light it. It sparks a little. It sends plumes of blue, red, pink, white, orange, green, purple, or yellow smoke into the air. And, while we were at my folks', Christopher found some large smoke bombs (about 6 inches long and an inch or so across), that go for about 10 times as long as the little balls you usually find.

On the way back to the Cities, we stopped at one of the big fireworks stores outside of Sioux Falls and found more of those long lasting smoke bombs, as well as a few "fountain" type fireworks and a few sparkly-spinner-y things.

Then, yesterday, as the sun was going down, we headed out to the driveway and lit things off. The fountains were sparkly. The spinners spun. The smoke bombs were incredible. And it was just for us.

As much as I enjoy the big she-bangs that you can find either on TV or in the middle of thousands of people, I really don't think any of those can beat a private showing.

Celebrating in the American Way.

Although today Christopher and I have absolutely no plans (what with shooting off fireworks last Saturday and all), we did have some friends over for a cookout-y meal last night. And it dawned on me, as I looked at the food on the table, that this is a very odd holiday when it comes to All Things American -- especially where the food is concerned.

You see, Thanksgiving -- as far as the food and tradition are concerned -- is truly the quintessentially North American holiday. After all, as far as I know, only Canada and the US have them. And, Thanksgiving -- at least in the States -- has at its center foods which can really only be found here (like Turkey and Pumpkin Pie). On the other hand, the food on the Fourth of July is usually much more... well... international. Sure, there are the stand-bys, like burgers on the grill or Jell-o salads, but you never know what else will be on the table. For instance...

We started the evening with a homemade Lavender Lemonade (Christopher combined a few recipes he's found and came up with something amazing), which was served along with our appetizers: Guacamole and Chips on one side of the table, Fresh Vegetarian Thai Spring Rolls on the other.

After the lemonade was gone, we moved on to Lime Sorbet and Coke "floats" (although the sorbet sank, so "float" may not be the right word), some with Rum, some without.

When I headed outside to drop the Hamburgers on the grill, they were accompanied by Zucchini and, eventually, Asparagus (the latter two, once grilled, were tossed with lemon juice, salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper... yum.) -- and a couple of Tofu dogs, as well. Back inside, we were met with a Bok Choy salad and a Chickpea and Couscous salad (with some kind of cheese and veggies in it -- it was really good).

Palates were cleansed with slices of Watermelon, and we finished the evening with both a Strawberry/Rhubarb pie and a frozen Key Lime pie -- both with a lightly sweetened homemade whipped cream.

Maybe that's what makes the Fourth so American, though: The fact that the foods come from all over, yet fit together to make a wonderful meal. Great American Melting Pot, indeed.

Oh. And as a bonus, I found this amazing (-ly silly) video (sorry... haven't figured out how to embed a video directly into my blog, so you'll have to click through to it.) while reading someone else's blog this morning. Oddly enough, it also makes me kind of proud to be an American (and it has fewer calories than most of what I ate, yesterday).

Reunion Tips

For those of you who may be going to reunions this weekend over the Fourth of July, I thought I'd offer you a few tips I picked up last weekend:

1) If someone walks up to you and says "What are you up to these days?" Don't respond with a sneer, saying "The same thing I've been doing for the past 10 years." Instead, assume that the question was meant as an ice breaker. Even if you say the same thing, say it with a smile.

2) It's probably not the best way to make friends (even with your relatives) by walking up and saying "You've got a lot more grey than you used to." You might mean it as a cute, friendly way to say hello, but it's probably not going to taken that way.

3) Try to get where-ever you need to be on time. Not too late. Not too early. On time is a really good time to get there.

4) Whether or not you bring something really should be based on your host. You've still got a day or two. Why not call and ask? (If your hosts say "No. Don't bring anything." Feel free to bring a bottle of wine, something nifty for them to use after you leave, or some already-in-a-vase flowers. Or, even better, just bring a fabulous attitude and a desire to help out. Even if your host says they don't need anything, I don't know any host who doesn't like offers of help.)

5) Although a little alcohol may make reunions easier for some, too much alcohol is, simply, too much alcohol. Know your limits. Stick to them. And stay away from small children, grills, automobiles, and fireworks if you over-imbibe.

6) Smile for the pictures (even if you don't want to), take the time to say "hi" to everyone (even if you don't know them), and enjoy yourself (even if it's in spite of yourself).

Happy Family Reunion! May all the fireworks be pretty.

Further Reun-ing

Okay... Okay... Okay... So yesterday's post may have been a little on the overdramatic side. I get it. Mind you, I don't apologize for it, but I get it.

In deference to that opinion, I hereby give you the following snapshots from the long weekend. (No. They're not actual snapshots. They're written things. I have no digital camera, remember?)

1) It was really green back home -- That may sound strange to some people (like, for instance, Christopher, who got very tired of me pointing out the windows and saying "Wow. It's SO green!" and "There's not supposed to be water standing there." and various other brilliant comments on the drive home), but SouthEast South Dakota is, usually, beginning the seasonal slide to golden/brown this time of year. As you might have guessed, though, it was lush and green and gorgeous. We didn't even have to worry about starting the yard on fire when we were setting of fireworks on Saturday night.

2) Leaving home, for me, isn't as easy as it used to be -- Don't get me wrong. I was exhausted after the weekend. Christopher had been trying to get me to slow down for about half of Saturday and all of Sunday morning, while I was moving from one meal to the next, setting up and clearing away and figuring what needed to be done. But I feel like I've done that forever in my parents' house, and so it's nothing new. Even so, when I go home these days, it's usually just me and my parents -- sometimes with Christopher along for the ride. This time, with 15 people at dinner on Friday and lunch on Saturday, then 40+ people for "snacks" on Saturday afternoon and 30-ish people for brunch on Sunday, well... it kept me on my toes. And, yes, I fully admit that the quiet of the car-ride back to Minneapolis was a nice change of pace. (I've gotten very used to living a fairly quiet life -- or at least a semi-quiet one.) And I think I was ready to head out. But it was still hard to say good-bye to everyone on Sunday. I guess that's one of those "wistful" situations, where the happy and the sad all join together and make you notice the passage of time.

3) Fireworks are really cool. A tad scary. But mostly really cool -- You see, in South Dakota, all sorts of things that go boom and whizz and shreee-pow are legal and useable. And in my home town, you can shoot them off right outside your door from June 27th until July 5th. Which is what we did after the big reunion dinner on Saturday night. My two brothers-in-law had purchased various stashes of sparking, flashing, exploding and/or spinning gadgetry which took about 45 minutes to get through. We set up in the street about a quarter block from home (too many trees in our yard), with spectators (mostly family) in lawn chairs or on the sidewalk, and various cousins (first-cousins-once-removed, mainly) helped to light them off. There were things that went way up in the air, things that stayed on the ground, and things that were full of (good) surprises. All of which were accompanied by the requisite Oooohs and Aaahhhs. A lot may have changed over the years, but shooting off Fourth of July Fireworks (even a week early) took me right back to my Grandma's backyard when I was a kid. Only this time I didn't blow up any crab apples, and the "whizz-bangs" didn't burn a hole in anyone's blanket.

And, well, that's pretty much what the weekend was like. At least in my three snapshots. :-)

** Oh. In case I haven't mentioned it, lately, I'm from here. **