Monthly Archives: January 2012

“I build the tower the people like, everybody come” – Rodia

by The Totefish Blog

“Some of the people, they say ‘What is he doing?’ “

Sam Rodia’s recycled metal sculpture, Watts Towers holds incredible relevance and inspiration not just for the L.A. native or So. Cal tourist, but for the self-doubting entrepreneur.  It is a reminder that to build something new takes time, energy and a lot of cement to make the pieces stick.

Despite calling Los Angeles my home for fourteen years, I only learned  this week about the Watts Tower during a parking-lot conversation at my children’s school (Moms gossiping about field-trips and fundraisers).  Yesterday, I mentioned it to my husband. “Watts What?” he said.  This Sunday, we found the address and piled into the car.

Watts Towers is, for lack of a more creative description, an urban, Gaudi-esque sculpture designed out of broken tile & glass, encrusted plaster and metal spires in a triangle-shaped plot of land in South Los Angeles.   It was started in the 1920s by Sam Rodia, an Italian immigrant and took 34 years to complete.  Once finished, Rodia deeded the property to his neighbor and moved away.  It resembles a ship.  There’s a locked fence around it and admission is $7 for adults, free for kids.  Tours are given on the half-hour.

It is wonderful.

While the structure was impressive (Rodia built it alone & without any scaffolding, cranes or support wires) and the design was fun (mosaics made of broken ceramic bowl rims and beer bottle bottoms are always a kick), it was Rodia’s words that resonated most profoundly for me.  He was an uneducated man.  He spoke in grammatically incorrect sentences.  He kicked me in my Sunday pants.

“Some of the people, they thinkin’ I was crazy”

You see, Saturday nights have suddenly become my depot for depression. They are my nights of insecurity and self-doubt.  In the quiet that comes after the busyness of a long week of work and parenting, I suddenly question my ability to start a business successfully.  Did I make the right decisions this week?  Did I set the engineers on the right path?  What about my marketing strategy?  What if I’m wrong and no one wants to use Totefish?  What am I doing?!?!

Then suddenly – miraculously –  today, I stumble upon Watts Towers.  What began as an educational, cultural trip for the kids turned into a personal lesson for me.  Watts Tower is a testament to individual initiative and vision.  It is a reminder that sometimes, you have to go out into your backyard and start building the towers, bottle-by-bottle, brick-by-brick, regardless of what your neighbors say.  You can’t be afraid of doing something different.  You can’t be afraid of climbing to the top without a net.

You just have to build it.  If it’s good, the people will come.

“And some people, they say ‘He’s gonna do something.’ “

Help! I can’t stop changing my blog themes

by The Totefish Blog

It’s an obsession.  It’s procrastination.  It’s all I’ve accomplished today.

Themes (for my friends who aren’t knee-deep in blogging) are the pre-set templates for the blog format.  They make the blog look like the blog.  Headers, footers, color palettes, photo placement, text font.  WORDPRESS has a bunch of these for your picking and you can try them all, with just a click of your thumb.  It’s like going into an ice-cream shop and sampling each of the 33 flavors.  Unfortunately, the calorie-count (in lost work hours) is obscene.

I’m new to blogging.  Sure, technically I “created” this blog in September (right after I bought the URL for my start-up) but I wrote my first boring post in October, and its duller follow-up in November.  Truth is, I had no idea how one used a blog, let alone why.  All I knew was people were using “blog” as a verb and every business had a link to theirs on their website.  I found WORDPRESS by googling the word “blog.”  They were giving them away free.  I named mine “totefish” (’cause that’s my clever company name) and checked it off my To Do list.

Don’t get me wrong.  I wasn’t a total pop-culture, tech idiot (although I do believe in the Big Brother conspiracy theories about the inner-workings of Facebook).  I was aware that there had been a social media explosion while I was picking up the newspaper from my wet lawn.  Eventually, I even bought an I-phone (as the world’s most expensive distraction tool for my kids at restaurants).  But once I committed our own personal money to building an internet company, I was deep into social media.

I opened a Facebook account.  I synced a Google work calendar to my I-phone.   I learned it wasn’t cool to say “Linked ‘N.”  Tech childs’ play.  As I said to my mother (who shuts her cellphone off after she leaves you a message because she doesn’t want her battery to run low), “I should have majored in Computer Science.  I did go to LOGO computer camp in the second grade, didn’t I?”

But blogging… I just couldn’t wrap my head around it.  If a blog was filled with news, then why not call it a newspaper?  If someone’s looking for a recipe, don’t they just go to Epicurious.com?  Blogs were like a foreign exchange student. Pretty to look at it and although I’m smiling & nodding… I haven’t a  clue what they’re saying.

A tag is different than a category which is different from a menu which does or does not need a label but should contain a link with a feedback loop that, I think someone said was called a pingback although maybe that’s a piggyback, as in pretending to like someone else’s blog just so you can pimp their subscribers for your blog, which would give you a higher chance of getting your blog on someone else’s blogroll, which makes that flat little bar graph below your browser bar grow high and jagged.

I took me two days to figure out how to upload my gravatar image.  I begrudgingly posted a blog in December.  I had 3 followers.  My husband.  My CTO.  And me.

Well, well, well.  Every new challenge has a learning curve.  Practice makes perfect.  If life gives you lemons.  Blah, blah, blah.

I finally cracked the nut.

The theory: Blogging is the way of giving yourself that magazine column you always wanted to write but couldn’t get hired for.  Write what you care about.  See if anyone cares to read it.  Easy.

The specifics: Tags = Keywords.  Categories = Files.  Links = Shortcuts to a Website. Blogrolls = Recommended Reading.  Widgets = Additional Features (or “Bells & Whistles”).  Dashboard = The charts that show you if anyone cares about you or your writing.  Menu = Still trying to figure that out.

All this heightened knowledge got me back on the blog train.  I started writing about… me.  As I grew up as a blogger (you’d be surprised who quickly one moves from baby to toddler in 5 posts), my old blog title didn’t work.  Totefish.  That’s my business idea, not my blog.  But what about the 55 friends I’d forced to subscribe to Totefish?  Would they be totally disoriented if I suddenly, without warning, changed to “Canyon Woman:  Hear Me Blog”?  Fans, even if gathered hostage-style, need respect.

I worked an hour or two on title hybrids.  I took photos of the sky outside and downloaded 12 different treetop versions.  I whipped that color-wheel until I found the perfect shade of grey-green.  I “previewed” every theme until the lines blurred between “The Linen” and the “Twenty-12″.  The clock struck 3, my kids barreled through the side door and I activated this theme.  Not a (wasted) moment too soon.  Who cares that I didn’t work all day?!  I run tbe company.  Can’t fire myself, now can I?

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(1 hour later)

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I’m back.  I’m just thinking that maybe I should change the photo?  Or the small tag line under the big title.  I mean, do you think it’s weird that I mentioned my label maker rather my husband?   Maybe I should splurge for a Premium Theme.  Something with pre-tabs already designed in it for my category sections.  Or, I should leave it alone, right?

Oh my God.  I’m a WordPress Theme Junkie.

Make it stop.

Trapping Happiness: It’s an elusive cat

by The Totefish Blog

Last night, I finally read the last chapter of Daniel Pink’s “Drive” (I typically can’t put a book back on the shelf until I’ve read the whole damn thing, even if reading the book is akin to plucking my stray eyebrow hairs with dull tweezers.  I’m half-Italian.  My eyebrows are bushy.)  This is my gift to you.   I’m going to save you 3+ hours of your life and tell you the secret to happiness.  (Don’t get me wrong –  I liked the content of “Drive.”  It just should have been edited down to a 4-page article rather than a full-length book.)

In the last three pages of the book’s main section, Pink refers to a study that asked college graduates about their life goals as they left the university.  Here’s the excerpt:

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“Some of the students [had what sociologists call] ‘extrinsic aspirations’ – for instance, to become wealthy or to achieve fame – what we might call ‘profit goals.’  Others had ‘intrinsic aspirations’ – to help others improve their lives, to learn, and to grow – or what we might think of as ‘purpose goals.’  

After these students had been out in the real world for between one and two years, the researchers tracked them down to see how they were faring.  The people who’d had purpose goals and felt they were attaining them reported higher levels of satisfaction and subjective well-being than when they were in college, and quite low levels of anxiety and depression.  That’s probably no surprise.  They’d set a personally meaningful goal and felt they were reaching it.  In that situation, most of us would likely feel pretty good, too. 

But the results for people with profit goals were more complicated.  Those who said they were attaining their goals – accumulating wealth, winning acclaim – reported levels of satisfaction, self-esteem, and positive affect no higher than when they were students.  In other words, they’d reached their goals, but it didn’t make them any happier.  What’s more, graduates with profit goals showed increases in anxiety, depression, and other negative indicators – again, even though they were attaining their goals.” 

The findings suggest that even when we do get what we want, its’ not always what we need.  ’People who are very high in extrinsic goals for wealth are more likely to attain that wealth, but they’re still unhappy.’ “ 

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What does this mean for me?

In the context of Pink’s whole book, it means not only will I have more natural “drive” (motivation, commitment to getting the task done, and heightened creativity & quality output) if I’m autonomous in my job and if I have the opportunity to master my skills… but it turns out, I should be doing something that’s “bigger than myself.”

I can handle that, right?

I mean, it’s not that I say, “My goal is to make one billion dollars!”  That would be… ridiculous.

But okay yes, I do (publicly) say, “My goal is to be successful.  I want to build a huge internet company!  I want my kids to succeed in whatever they do.”

Hmmmm.

Maybe that’s my dirty little lie… I mean, secret… of (not) balancing work and family.

Despite my attempts otherwise, my daily “life goals” are extrinsically-directed.  Earn paycheck for first time in 8 years.  Build successful company.  Raise independent children.  Profits?  For sure!

And since I’m on a “honest-roll,” I’ll admit that I don’t have alot of daily purpose goals either.  Pack waste-free lunch for kids by 7 am.  Help K study for (and get good grade) on math test.  Post witty blog.  Give notes to web designer about company website.  The list goes on-and-on.

They’re not (totally) obnoxious goals.   Some may even consider them efficient.  Responsible.  Mature.  But yeah, I see it now.  They are externally-focused.  They are “results-driven.”  And sure, my husband might say that I’m “anxious.”  But I want HAPPINESS, damn it!

So, fine.  I’ll add it to my To Do List as soon as I’m done with this blog.

#52.)  ”Find new set of new meaningful life goals.  Incorporate into daily and long-term plans.”

Smelly Water Business

by The Totefish Blog

The sweet smell of success

My kids made $33 selling smelly water today.

Yup.  You read it right.  A little bit of garden hose water, grapefruit pulp, rosemary twigs, some grass ends and some mis-guided dirt, in used Pellegrino bottles decorated with colored masking tape.  They made $33, selling 4 bottles.

I couldn’t make it up even if I wanted to.

K & L & their best friend (our next door neighbor’s kid) came up with the idea when one of them accidentally smooshed a grapefruit that had fallen off our neighbor’s tree onto our property while playing a game of “spy and seek.”  Somehow, the squished fruit turned into a their first “business idea.”

I swear, I had nothing to do with any of it.

They filled empty water bottles (including a large 2-Gallon jug with a crushed cap) with their proprietary mixture of “good smelling stuff” and decorated them with copious amounts of colored masking tape, used in a design pattern of their choice.  K made two bottles because “she was quicker with the tape” than the boys.

“Mom, can we sell these at the end of the driveway?  To the bikers?”

On Sundays, our street is popular with bicycle teams who use the gradual canyon slope as a warm-up fo their 30+ mile rides.   I’d like to say my first response was, “Wow, I’m so proud of your industry and creativity, kids”  but instead, I shook my head and said, “You can’t sell those to people to drink.”  I’m no fool.  We have a lot of friends who are lawyers.  They laughed at me.

“Mom, you can’t drink them.  You’re supposed to put it on your table.  To make the room smell good,” K said, as if she was talking to a young child.  She unscrewed a top.  ”Smell!”

I leaned in.  It smelled like grapefruit and rosemary.  Refreshing.  Earthy.  Not half-bad.

Like the typical type-A mom I am, I quickly sussed out that this was the BEST teaching opportunity I could have ever stumbled upon.  This was a chance for my kids to learn, first-hand, some lessons about hard work, perseverance and yes… disappointment.  You see, sometimes I fear my children have it too easy.  It’s the plight of child-rearing on the westside of Los Angeles.  I worry that maybe my kids don’t really understand how hard it is to make it in the world or how lucky they are that their father has had such (atypical) career success.   Well.  What a wonderful opportunity for a friendly dose of reality, don’t you think?  What kid hasn’t learned a valuable lesson from a lemonade stand and a fluke rain storm?

“Good Luck,” I said.  And off they ran to the driveway’s edge.

I went into the kitchen to make lunch.  I figured they’d need some PB&Js for sustenance since they were in for a long afternoon sitting behind a table.  But before I could unscrew the jar top, a pretty blond woman caught my eye outside the window.  She was standing in front of the kids’ table, inspecting their bottles (You should know, we live on a street  that is not known for its close camaraderie.  We don’t have sidewalks.  We don’t have a community crime watch.  We don’t even know the names of the neighbors who live catty-corner to us).  Needless to say, I didn’t recognize the leggy blond so I headed up the driveway to check things out.  But by the time I got there, the blond lady was already in her car, pulling away from the curb.   L came running towards me with a $5 bill held out in his hand.  ”Some lady bought K’s for $4 and gave us a $1 extra!  She said it’s a tip!  What’s a tip?”

The kids were beaming.  I congratulated them.  Then, in the gentlest of voices, I tried to tell them that it was an anomaly.  Usually drivers don’t pull over their cars for waving kids, then spend $5 on a used bottle of dirty water.  But my cautionary words fell on deaf ears.  They were already flapping their arms, trying to flag down their next car.  I went back inside the house.

Less than 10 minutes later, the kids came barreling into the house, screaming.  ”A lady just gave us $20.  For the big one.”  $20?  For a crushed bottle of herb water?   Are you kidding me?  Who does that?!

You get how the rest of the story goes.

The kids unloaded the last two bottles on two other random, kind-hearted, deep-pocketed people driving down our canyon road.  I didn’t bother with any more speeches.   I mean, really.  $33 for 4 bottles of smelly water?!   Some people are just born natural entrepreneurs.

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Lessons my kids learned today:

1.)  ”Having a business is fun”

2.)  ”Ladies will pay a lot of money for things that smell nice”

3.)  ”Oh man.  If we had made a 100 bottles, we would have thousands of dollars right now.”

______________________________

Lessons I learned today:

1.)  We live in a much wealthier part of town than I thought

2.)  Doing well in business is as much about the product as it is the sales team

3.)  My constant discussions around “the business” have infiltrated my children’s life.   I should watch what I say more closely.

4.)  I’ll never pass another kid-run lemonade stand without stopping

5.)  I’m going to use my children to promote Totefish, for sure

But I Don’t Want to Live on a Farm!

by The Totefish Blog

I had my first “start-up Freakout” tonight and although I suspect it is the first in a long line of freak-outs (caused by my decision to start a company), I’m just suprised it came when it did.  10 pm on a Saturday night.   We’d just been on a great family outing to see “TinTin” and eat mongolian beef at PF Changs.  I was in”relax mode.”

Here’s the backstory.  I discovered Penelope Trunk’s blog this week and quickly became addicted.  I’ve stayed up late the last two nights catching up on her last three+ years of blogs.  Tonight, after the kids went to bed, my husband and I settled in on the couch to read.  I read the first two chapters of “Digital Impact” and then, rewarded myself  with a little bit of the P-Trunk.  Well, well, well.  Caution to anyone in the fragile state of starting a business.  Don’t read the content under the “StartUps” section.  It’s as uplifting as a visit to the urologist.

It appears that my future includes the following:

I’ll run out of money.  I’ll fight with my co-founders.  I’ll spend too much time on planes.  I won’t get real respect from Silicon Valley.  I’ll miss major milestones in my kids lives.  I’ll get a divorce.  I’ll move to a farm in Wisconsin.

If I hadn’t sworn off alcohol as my new year’s weight-loss short-cut, I’d be passed out in my own vodka-stained vomit instead of writing this blog.  What was I thinking?!?

I suspect there’s both some truth in Penelope’s take on start-ups.  It’s stressful.  It’s overwhelming.  There’s always more work to be done.  4 out of every 5 start-ups fail.  But what else am I going to do with myself?  I’ve always wanted to build something.   I like making things better.  I like To Do lists.  But I also really like my husband and reading books to my kids and shopping for cage-free eggs at WholeFoods.

Oh, how I hope Penelope has it wrong.

‘Cause I don’t want to live on a farm in Wisconsin.

Christmas Lights In January

by The Totefish Blog

My “New & Improved” 2012 desktop

I’ve become that house.  The one that still has its Christmas lights hanging on January 20th.  Actually, I’ve become that woman.  The one who appears to be operating under the direction of a water-soaked manual.  This morning, I drove the kids to the bus-stop wearing my pajamas.  Threw on a pair of sneakers and my husband’s sweatshirt and a gathered my hair in a pony-tail, as if I was going to workout.  Let’s be clear here.  The only “Breakfast of Champions” occurring in my life is two cups of a coffee and a multi-vitamin.  The vitamin, I usually defer until lunch.

For as long as I can remember, I criticized others who didn’t run their lives orderly.   Yes.  I was totally arrogant and dismissive of those who couldn’t manage the details of their family life in an elegant, organized fashion.  Kid bikes strewn around the front yard?  Line them up in descending order of size along the driveway’s edge.  Not sure what to serve for dinner?  Pound some cage-free poultry and schnitzel that breast with organic breadcrumbs.  Have a kid’s birthday party to attend on the weekend?  Shop a week early for a theme-gift.  Garage overflowing with camping gear, thrift-shop giveaways, beach toys and baby keepsakes (you know, memories to pass on your future grandchildren)?  Buy some Sterlite 64 gallon boxes, grab your label maker and line them up alphabetically along the rafter shelf.

Yes.  It’s true.

I used to be that woman.

How things have changed since I’ve started Totefish.   There are NOT enough hours in the day to start a company, raise a family and organize life to the standards of the DIY network (or any Martha Stewart-inspired website designed with a letter-pressed, lower-case font).  The challenges of balancing work and family are difficult enough without keeping to a standard that is picture-ready, magazine-worthy and presentable to visitors who drop in unannounced.  Thankfully, the tradition of “I just dropped by because I was in the neighborhood” doesn’t exist in our neck of Los Angeles.

There are hand-smudges on every wall.  Shoes are strewn under most couches.  Piles of laundered clothes rest not in drawers but on side-tables, so close – but yet too far – from their home in the closet.  The freezer is stocked with chicken nuggets and tater tots.  The Netflix movie hasn’t been returned in over two months.  I can’t see the bottom on my inbox (let alone the wood surface of my desk).   The paint is peeling on the wooden house shingles.  A badminton birdie is wedged in the storm drain.  Dive toys litter the bottom of the deep end of the pool (leftover from an unseasonably warm weekend in November).  The front-porch light is burned out.   An undelivered Christmas present sits on the floor of the passenger car seat (it’s for the owner of the dry-cleaner…)   Things just aren’t pretty anymore.

My life has taken a new turn.  In the past, I concentrated on either just work (in my post-college years) or just family (for the last eight years).  But now, I have two priorities — Family & Work.  The tension is there and the struggle for balance is constant.  The only way to accomplish it is by letting go of everything else.

So, I apologize to all those people who I so callously dismissed as lazy, unorganized, unfocused or mis-managed… and I join them in letting the lights hang.  Sure, I can “have it all” so long as “all” no longer includes hand-made party invitations, book shelves arranged by the colors of the rainbow or customized photo books highlighting each family vacation.  How’s that for a New Years resolution, 20 days into the fray?!

Now, I’m got to get back to work on Totefish ’cause in a few hours, I’ll have to change out of these ‘jams and pick up the kids from school.