Merry Christmas From the Fishers

At the beginning of the holiday season, I had grand plans for fabulous family Christmas cards. Alas, the month got away from me and here I am opting for a digital version. (I’m going to say it’s because I wanted to be green and use less paper, which is partially true.)

So, let me update you on the happenings in our lives over the last year. Clint spent the majority of the year working in Djibuti, Africa, while I held down the fort in South Carolina. It was a challenging year for us and we were thrilled when Clint came home Oct. 1. He has readjusted to life at home, and I had no trouble handing off all sorts of household and parenting duties! Hey, he missed the transition to the toddler bed and potty training, so it’s only fair. I’m grateful to the friends and family members who pitched in over the last year to help me with babysitting.

Clint has headed back to his job as a project manager at Honeywell, where he does IT security for various government clients. I added to my workload at Step Ahead Inc., where we do public relations, social media marketing and Internet marketing. I handle most of the PR accounts and a fair amount of our social media work for businesses. And while there are days when I miss the newspaper business, it’s been fun working in this new field and learning new skills.

I also joined the steering committee of the Charleston Young Professionals, led a couple of discussions at the Center for Women and volunteered with Metanoia to plan its annual holiday Jubilee fundraiser. I marked 15 years as a member of the Society of Professional Journalists (which I admit made me a feel a little old). I’ve been volunteering with the national membership committee and host a monthly podcast called Your SPJ Membership. Who knew a print gal could turn into a radio host?

I started CrossFit classes in July and Clint joined me when he got home. We love it! I never imagined I’d be pumping iron and doing pull-ups!

Over the year, we watched Kate make the transition from “baby” to “toddler” and now to “little girl.” She looks like me and acts like Clint. The poor child is a perfectionist and doesn’t have much patience, having inherited some of our less desirable traits. But on the upside, she’s smart as a whip and keeps us on our toes wondering what she’ll say next. I swear she talks like she’s almost 5 rather than almost 3. She enjoys going to school each day and has Stretch-n-Grow classes each week, where she recently learned to point out her biceps, triceps and abdominals. We’ll be looking into dance and swim classes next year.

We’re happy to be back together for the holidays and look forward to what 2011 will bring.

Here’s wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas and God’s many blessings in the New Year!

Lots of love,
Holly, Clint and Kate

Keep up with the Fishers
Holly: holly@fishers2000.com / 843-991-1689 / www.facebook.com/hollyannfisher
Clint: clint@fishers2000.com / 843-991-1690
Holly’s on Facebook and trying to get Clint there as well. :)

Photo credit: Chris Smith

Marriage is not dead

Everywhere I turn there’s another article, blog post or magazine cover story questioning the importance, relevance or necessity of marriage. Enough!

Just a few months ago, our church did a series called “Love Songs” and the very first sermon was about making a case for marriage. Of the three points, one that truly stuck with me was the fact there are some experiences in life you just won’t have unless you are married. And I don’t mean a wedding or co-signing a mortgage, but the experience of sharing your life with someone. In a marriage, you know your spouse has your back, is committed to you and will be at your side for all those amazing – and not so amazing – times.

Having been married 10 years, I believe can speak with some authority on this subject. I love the fact I often know what my husband is thinking without even looking at him. I love that we share inside jokes and can make each other laugh. Well, you argue, unmarried people make each laugh. True, but our joys, sorrows and special moments run deep. They stem from a connection and a commitment and that – at least to me – makes all those moments extra special. It’s easy to laugh during the good times, but I know my husband will stick with me during the hard times, the times when I’m struggling and not so easy to live with.

Anything worth having takes work. Like your career, raising good children or developing a relationship with God, these don’t just happen. You shoulder a large part of the responsibility and marriage is the same way. It takes some effort but, as our pastor pointed out, it comes with a great benefits package.

A lot to be thankful for

This Thanksgiving I breathe a sigh of grateful relief that I made it through the last year and now have my sweet hubby back home. This time last year, we’d barely started our 11-month separation as he worked in Djibouti, Africa. I am truly thankful we survived.

I am also very grateful to the friends in Charleston who helped me while Clint was gone as well as those who sent words of encouragement from afar. With a 2-year-old, two dogs, a house and a full-time job, I had my hands full. Thank you, friends, for your assistance.

Here’s wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving!

The happiest of reunions

I wore a path in the carpet at the airport. I was nervous, excited and overwhelmed. I was seeing my husband for the first time in 11 months.

When I saw him round the corner and head up the hallway from Terminal A, I had to hold myself back from busting through the “do not enter” security sign. (But I hated to have our reunion spoiled with me in handcuffs and suspected as a possible terrorist.)

I have never hugged someone so tightly. A kiss has never been so sweet. I am so relieved to have my best friend back home.

Vote for me!

I wouldn’t make a great politician – all the campaigning just isn’t my thing. Writing about it as a reporter, sure. Doing it myself, well, not so much. But next weekend, I'll be putting my campaigning hat for my run as at-large director with the Society of Professional Journalists.

As we converge on Las Vegas next week for the national SPJ conference and journalism convention, SPJ chapter delegates will select a new slate of board members.

After serving on the board for six years as a regional director, I took a break to have a baby and just to let someone else have a turn (I have a feeling the folks in my region might have let me stay indefinitely!). This year I decided I was ready to return to board service, but in a different role. So, I’m running for the at-large director’s seat against two other very capable SPJ members.

Why head back to the board table? It’s simple: I really love this organization. I’ve been a member for 15 years and honestly can’t imagine not being a member. It’s a piece of who I am. Just as journalism is a piece of me, so is SPJ.

I'll save the rest of the story for my campaign speech, but wish me luck! Here's a preview of my campaign stickers:

'Excited' barely covers it

To say I’m excited that my husband comes home next week after working 11 months in Africa would be the understatement of the decade. Excited barely scratches the surface of my emotions. Aside from the joy of having help with an independent and headstrong 2 year old, I’m just happy to have my best friend back.

Here are just a few of the many things I’ve missed:
• Someone to roll the garbage can to the curb on Monday mornings.
• Back up in the murder of a particularly large and fast-moving Palmetto Bug.
• A foot warmer when I go to bed with cold feet and am too lazy to get up and find socks.
• A hug when I feel sad, stressed or discouraged.
• Someone to laugh at inside jokes. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen something hilarious that only Clint would find funny.
• In-house tech support. Although I have learned how to install Windows on a new laptop and set up a new wireless router.
• Someone who can make our two Labs mind with the simple snap of his fingers.
• Parenting support and all that goes with it.

I could go on with a list a mile long. But we’ll keep it simple and say I’m excited.

Just call me an athlete

Mention a sporting activity to me and I automatically groan. Please don’t ask me to join the church softball league or an office dodgeball game.

My dislike of sports goes way back. Even as a small child I preferred to stay inside and read books rather than go outside and play, where I might encounter bugs and – horror of horrors – sweat!

I’ll give myself credit for trying over the years. I always wanted to be an athlete, shooting a winning basket or crossing the finish line in a relay race.

A few failed experiments at organized sports:
• Tee-ball: I spent most of my time in the outfield, stepping on ant hills. But, darn, I looked cute in that batting helmet.
• Third grade pee-wee basketball. Let’s just say that wasn’t a very good idea.
• Fourth grade pee-wee cheerleading, which wasn’t too terrible, but based on the fact I’m in my 30s and still can’t do a cartwheel put a damper on my cheerleading career.
• I detested gym class and was one of those poor kids picked last for any team.

By junior high, I’d given up on sports and focused on things I actually enjoyed and could do well, such as music and writing. Plus, I went through a chubby phase and a cheerleading uniform would not have been flattering. In high school, I was thrilled with the fact we only had to take gym class in the ninth grade and then we were released from that mandated torture.

Let me pause here to say I do think children should learn good physical fitness habits, but the way gym class is structured is terrible. But that’s an entirely different blog post I’ll save for another day.

I made one more attempt as an adult to participate in a church volleyball team. I’ll sum that one-game experience up with the fact I don’t really like having a hard ball flying at my face and a resulting criticism from a teammate confirmed the fact I am not good with team sports.

I’ve done much better in recent years with solo workouts at the gym, Pilates classes, biking, hiking or running (that's me at left running a 5k) – activities in which no one depended on me to hit a ball, run a base or hold up a pyramid of humans.

So, I’ve given that sad account to drive home what was a very exciting moment for me a couple weeks ago. I was referred to as an “athlete.”

I’ve started doing CrossFit, a fitness program often used by the military and police academies. It’s different each day – lifting weights, doing pull-ups, running, swinging kettle balls and a variety of other exercises to build strength, stamina and, I hope, the muscles in my arms and stomach. The nice thing is it can be customized for your level.

The trainer and owner of the facility sends out e-mail newsletters and refers to CrossFit participants as “athletes.” And, so, for the first time in my life I’ve decided to claim the title and wear it proudly. By the way, my other big accomplishment is I’m sweating and I don’t even mind.

A happy ending

I really love when people want to know how Clint and I met. If you ask Clint, you’ll get a 45-minute story with lots of detail and a few anecdotes that do not paint such a flattering picture of me. Because Clint isn’t writing this, I’ll spare you the lengthy (although entertaining) story and give you the abbreviated version:

I met Clint when I moved to San Angelo, Texas, to take a job at the newspaper there. I was 22 years old with the ink barely dry on my journalism degree. I was ready to take the on world as a newspaper reporter and visions of a Pulitzer Prize danced in my head.

Clint was living in San Angelo finishing up Air Force ROTC at Angelo State University and taking a few grad classes. He too was armed with a journalism degree and was working part-time at the same newspaper. My first impression when we met was that he was very tall (he is 6’3”) and he had very blue eyes (now I get see those eyes in our daughter).

Let’s just say I thought Clint was a very nice guy but I had no romantic feelings for him at that time. He, on the other hand, thought I was the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on and knew we were destined to be together. You can probably see how differing views can cause some problems.

We’ll jump ahead a bit to when Clint asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner. He picked me up in his then-new Chevy extended cab and off we went to a Chinese restaurant. I really thought we were just going out as friends so I chatted the whole time, totally comfortable and with no first-date jitters (because it wasn’t a “date,” right?).

This went on for quite some time – dinners, a rodeo – all with me just thinking we were friends while Clint was blinded by love. Finally the poor guy had enough and after one of our evenings out, asked just where this thing was headed. I can best describe my reaction as: deer in the headlights.

Understandably disgusted, Clint went off to his home in Arkansas for a visit, ready to write me off and move on to greener pastures. I started to realize I may have done something very stupid.

Fast forward to me coming to my senses and calling Clint to ask if we could get together. I like to this of this next event as truly our first date. He made me dinner (bacon-wrapped shrimp stuffed with cheese and jalapenos and quail – he really went all out) and we sat outside eating and talking. The evening ended with what would be our last first kiss.

The next year we were married. I like to say our relationship had a strange start but a happy ending.

I really can’t imagine my life without Clint. I thank the good Lord that he helped me see the amazing man that was right in front of my face. Like any marriage, ours has had been filled with joy and laughter, tears and heartache. Not every day has been easy, but having a wonderful husband certainly helps pull you through.

OK, so that account may have been a little long, but I can guarantee Clint’s is even longer. Yet, I never tire of hearing that story because I know how it ends.

Happy 10th anniversary to my wonderful husband, friend and partner for life. And thank you for knowing we belonged together even when I didn’t.

Let the countdown begin

We are down to less than three months until Clint is home from Africa. I'm super excited and have added a countdown to my blog (see left). Whoohoo!

One, please

OK, this may sound snarky, but here goes.

I get an e-mail newsletter from WhattoExpect.com, including toddler tips, articles, etc. Today's e-mail included this:

No matter what age your firstborn is, you may be feeling nostalgic for those early infancy days and thinking dreamy thoughts about baby number two.

Clearly, I am atypical because I never feel nostalgic for those early infancy days. I am sorry, but that's just the way it is. I find this a tough concept for many people to understand, hence the odd looks I get when people ask if we're having another child and I say, "No." If you want to have more than one child, that is wonderful for you and I'm thrilled you're happy. Some of us are just one-child kind of people and that's perfectly OK.

OK, end of snarky.

Sweet lessons

As parents, we spend a lot of time teaching our children important life lessons - kindness, generosity, honesty, work ethic. But sometimes - like last night - we have the chance to teach our children about the simple pleasures of life: enjoying the taste of summer corn on the cob.

Having a Wild Hair

My child's hair fits her so well - wild just like she is. She talks nonstop, is fearless and independent - most of that she gets from her Daddy. The hair, well, that's a combination of what my hair looked like when I was that age and the Charleston humidity.

May 3

Here we are again, old friend. We’ve been meeting up for 34 years now. Isn’t it hard to believe? Doesn’t it seem we’ve been doing this for only 25 years or so? I swear, every year your visit comes faster. Sometimes, I welcome it as a time to celebrate, reflect and look ahead. Some years, I review my accomplishments, my friends, my family, my life and feel blessed. Other years, I spend two weeks dreading your arrival, like a house guest whose visit is awkward and embarrassing. I worry I didn’t get enough done since our last visit and vow to check off more to-dos before you come again.

This year, my feelings are mixed. I couldn’t keep you from coming, so I accept your visit and hope it’s a pleasant one. I don’t roll out the red carpet, but I don’t barricade the front door either. I simply welcome you with a cordial smile, a familiarity and a hope we’ll sit together for a few brief hours on this date for many years to come.

Slip into my mind

Wouldn't it be great if we could let another person into our heads for a just a little bit? I know it sure would make it easier to explain why I feel the way I do.

I hate a conversation that ends with:
Person A: Does that make sense?
Person B: Well, not really.

Nothing beats reading

It's Read Across America Day -- and Dr. Suess' birthday. So, in honor, I post this quote from "I Can Read with my Eyes Shut!"

The more that you read,
the more things you will know.
The more that you learn,
the more places you'll go.

Truer words have never been written. There's nothing like the power of books.

Do You Have a Left-Handed Club?

As a lefty, I had to take a moment to read this New York Times article about how more Canadian hockey players are lefty shooters on the ice and more Americans are right-handed shooters.

Here’s one quote from the article: “It’s probably a cultural quirk,” offered Brian Tran, a hockey-playing sales clerk at Cyclone Taylor Sports, a Vancouver hockey store. “Everybody’s doing it one way, so you follow along.”

Interesting.

I’ve been paying attention to my daughter’s holding of Crayons and forks lately to see if she’ll be a righty or a lefty. So far, she tends to favor her right hand. While I hold fast to the fabulous notion left-handed people are incredibly intelligent and creative (it’s totally true!), I have to admit it’s tough being a lefty in a right-handed world.

For those of you who have never had to think about this, here are few examples to help you appreciate the challenges we lefties face:

• Scissors. As a child, I had a pair of lefty scissors, but as I got older, finding adult-sized left-handed scissors was near impossible. I’ve learned to cut with my right hand, which probably explains why I couldn’t cut a straight piece of wrapping paper if my life depended on it.

• Credit card machines. The pens are typically on the right, although now I am pleased to see more with the pen at the top of the machine.

• Doctor’s office clip boards. These are always positioned to the right and often those little pens that are secured to a desk are on the right-hand side. This also applies to a delivery person who hands you a clip board to sign – it’s positioned to the right and you have a help them turn it to the left.

• Notebooks. When you write with your left hand, you bump into the spiral ring on the left-hand side. This is why notepads that open from the top – or legal pads – are a good option for lefties.

• Video cameras. The strap you use when filming is on the right side and the view finder opens on the left. It would really be great if the strap were on the left side so I could hold it in my left hand and be a little more controlled in my shooting.

• Sports. Think golf, shooting a gun, buying a baseball glove (your selection is going to be limited).

• Dining with others. People always want you to sit on the outside of the booth or table so you don’t bump elbows.

• Computers. Like most people, I use a computer mouse with my right hand because as you learn to use a computer, the mouse is always on the right side so you just go with it.

Whether it’s playing hockey or everyday living, we lefties do face some challenges that right-handed people never think about. But, we don’t really mind that much – we’re too busy basking in the glow of our superior creativity and intelligence.

Finding your blogging voice

Finding your own unique blogging voice can be a real challenge. I just wrote a post on our company blog addressing this and offering some tips. Check it out and please share a comment on how you've found your voice.

Hey, check me out in the WSJ

This week I had my 15 minutes of fame when I was included in a story for The Wall Street Journal. I was featured in an online graphic about “How the Great Recession Shaped the U.S. Job Market.” Check it out here. It was part of a larger story both in print and online titled “Even in a Recovery Some Jobs Won’t Return.” Unfortunately, newspaper reporter/editor jobs are among that mix, with the industry having lost more than 73,000 jobs.

And while I think it would have been more fun to have written the story for the WSJ, it also was cool to be included in the article. And maybe I was able to put a human face on the many job losses people have faced over the last couple of years. For so many of us it’s not just about the loss of a paycheck, it’s about the loss of dreams and goals – and that’s truly the greatest tragedy of this recession.

Shifting my spending

As last year’s holiday season rolled around, I set one goal: support more local businesses. A community organization, Lowcountry Local First, promotes buying local and has encouraged consumers to participate in the “10 percent shift” – shifting 10 percent of spending to local businesses. It also hosted a Buy Local Week to promote the idea of buying local.

So as I looked at my holiday shopping list, I wanted to shift more of my spending to small, local businesses. I’m happy to report I was fairly successful. Yes, I still purchased items at Wal-Mart, Target and Amazon.com. But … I also:

• Purchased two toys at Wonder Works just around the corner from my house. They have several of the toys set out for children to play with, which is a great way to see what piqued my daughter’s interest. They also offer layaway and free gift wrapping.

• Bought a gift basket at Ted’s Butcherblock in downtown Charleston, a great little gourmet food and wine store.

• Ordered three sets of cookie tins from Charleston Cookie Co. for my husband’s family in Arkansas and Texas.

• Bought two sweetgrass baskets from the lovely ladies at the Market in downtown Charleston.

All told, I spent more than $200 with local businesses. For the 2010 holiday season, I think I can do even better.

Finding my imagination

As we get older, our capacity for imagination tends to lessen. We live in reality – a world of mortgages, schedules, responsibilities and deadlines. But there is something about having a toddler in your house that helps you see things in a different way.

As Kate and I were eating guacamole the other night, she decided the Tostitos Scoop looked like a crown and started to put it on her head. I laughed and did the same. In fact, it did look like a crown. And so, thanks to my daughter, I occasionally get to take a break from reality and use my imagination.