Category Archives: Uncategorized

Starstruck

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JayBaerFrom what I’ve heard, even the most popular movie stars turn bashful when they meet somebody whose work they admire. At least that’s what I’ll keep telling myself after sharing a silent flight with one of my own industry celebs.

I was boarding my flight in Chicago bound for Social Media Marketing World in San Diego, so I knew there was a pretty good chance that somebody on that flight was headed to the same destination. As I approached my cabin, there he was in the front row with his trendy black glasses and striped socks. I knew it was Jay Baer and I wanted soooo badly to let him know how much I was looking forward to hearing him speak the following day. As fortune would have it, the line halted and I was directly in front of him for a good 90 seconds. I whispered a few introductions in my head and they all sounded like stuttering gibberish, so I proceeded to my seat.

Kicking myself from the epic fail, I chose to share my experience with my Twitter followers, who I knew would understand the magnitude of my shame:

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Jessica Tiede @tiedejess Apr 7
Pretty sure I’m on a flight with @jaybaer but I’m too dorky to say hi. #smmw13

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I waited for a little empathy, but instead received the following in return:

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Austin Rogerson @austinrogerson 7 Apr
Make moves #jealousofyou “@tiedejess: Pretty sure I’m on a flight with @jaybaer but I’m too dorky to say hi. #smmw13”

MonikaRun @monikarun 7 Apr
@tiedejess @jaybaer ha! I love that you will tweet that, but won’t say hi in person. The joys of social media. #smmw13

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Did I just get called out for being lame?! Oh yeah, I got called out alright. Not cool. I needed to turn this day or ship or plane around and not let that happen again. I vowed to throw that shy girl back into my luggage and get my social on for the next three days. Couldn’t be happier that I did.

That night at the first networking event of the week, I introduced myself to more than a few social celebs, Jay Baer included. We talked, we drank, we danced…okay, maybe we just shook hands and I snagged a photo…but I overcame the bashful and was happier for it.

The silliness of it all is certainly not lost on me. I realize that these are just people with great ideas doing what I do, but doing it better and probably having done it longer than me. Doesn’t mean that there isn’t possibly maybe perhaps just one person out there who thinks I’m that cool too. Is there somebody out there who thinks I’m that cool? Don’t be shy now…speak up! Just kidding. Not really.

My second favorite thing about these three amazing days was knowing that I had made new friends and mentors who I could actually tap on the virtual shoulder and ask questions. Experts in the vast world of social media are willing to share what they know and spread the word. They are approachable and they are teachers.

My first favorite thing about these amazing three days was the tweet I received on the second day:

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Jay Baer @jaybaer 8 Apr
@tiedejess Drinks on me next plane!

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#boom

13.1 x 5 digital resources

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walk

Triumph after a long walk. Here’s looking toward a victorious run!

Rule of thumb: Don’t post anything on Twitter that isn’t for public consumption. It wasn’t technically a secret, but I hadn’t really started telling many of my friends and colleagues. Now if I had posted it on Facebook, that’s a different story — there are definitely no secrets on Facebook and we all know it. But a couple of Twitter shout-outs here and there have officially let the cat out of the bag…I am training for my first half marathon.

People run marathons all of the time, so this is not front page news . But I am not a runner. I bike. I hike. I kayak. I do not run. The idea came to me a few months ago while lamenting a milestone birthday that is approaching in April. I need to turn back time in a non-Benjamin Button type of way. How about run a marathon? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Half a marathon? Maybe. And so began my Google search for gadgets, online support, and mobile running apps.

  1. My first stop was Digital Running Club. I don’t know who these people are, but they know their stuff. I printed out their training program and started tweeting them for encouragement and advice. They never fail to reply, even when I accuse them of trying to kill me.
  2. Accountability is huge when you set any type of goal, so I brought the @MadisonMarathon Twitter team into the mix and proclaimed my intent to run the Madison Half Marathon on Memorial Day weekend 2013. Now they are expecting me to show up and I will be there.
  3. I also used my new aspiration as an excuse to buy myself a FitBit. Do you have one of these? They are way too much fun. It tracks my steps, the number of floors I climb, my calories burned and it syncs with MyFitnessPal.com to monitor my food intake and nutritional requirements. It will even monitor my sleeping efficiency by telling me how many times I woke up throughout a night.
  4. I’m still searching for a great mobile app that I can use for that day when the ice melts and I can leave the treadmill behind in favor of the streets. I’m looking for an app that will regularly speak to me and tell me how far and how fast I’ve traveled. An occasional “Lookin’ good, hot stuff!” would also be welcome. Shoot me some ideas!
  5. There are so many wonderful resources online for starting any new hobby. I have tapped into the expertise of RunningDivaMom about problems like running boredom…something I struggle with on a regular basis. Her inspirational posts keep me moving even when I’d rather stop.

These resources are great, but nothing can do the work for me. I’m almost halfway through my training program and I’ve endured both a hip injury and back pain that set me back at least a week for each. Now my body is adjusting and things are looking up. Remember that accountability issue? Well, now that I’ve truly gone public there is only one thing left to do. I’ve gotta run!

Lessons from a woman and her tools

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remodelI’m talking about real tools here. Man tools. There is an immediate rush of authority when you put your hands around a tool and with the push of a button realize that you could literally lose a limb if you slip. Sounds a little sadistic, but it’s actually very empowering for a woman whose previous power tool experience was limited to the dust buster and a steamer vac.

I got an early jump on two New Year’s Resolutions this year — remodel the bathroom and learn something new. Got my money’s worth out of that second one as I actually learned a few things about tools, men and anatomy.

1) Men keep us out of the garage because they don’t want us to know how fun it is to play with tools! The stiff backs and the sore knees are just a ruse to earn sympathy and a cold beer at the day’s end.

2) Don’t tell your Facebook friends that you need an “axe” to start demolition. It’s called a sledgehammer.

3) It’s not cool to get caught washing the crowbar with dish soap and hot water. No matter how sticky and gross it is, let it be.

4) While not very creative, the Sawzall is the most aptly named tool in the shed.

5) There is a muscle in your arm called the flexi carpi ulnaris. After swinging a hammer at wall and floor tile for several hours, this muscle gets very angry.

The bathroom demolition is now complete and the rebuilding has begun. As much as I enjoyed my day letting off steam by busting through old pink tiles, my manicure is a mess. I’ve decided to leave the drywall hanging and plumbing to my husband. I’ll be back when it’s time to choose a paint color and provide direction about where to hang the towel bar. That’s right, I’m a Foreman. On second thought, make that a Forewoman.

A lesson in Pokémon

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Noah’s homemade Pokémon cards.

My son is six years old and last week he developed a fascination for Pokémon trading cards. It came out of nowhere for us. Since the first day of school, our dinner conversations have revolved around Ninjago and Beyblade®. I know that Pokémon has been around for 15+ years, but I’ve just never understood the appeal. Have you seen these characters?! They look like a science project gone incredibly wrong…disgusting little alien bug monsters with names like Metachomp and Spineboil. Don’t trade your cards, kiddos, just give them away and never look back!

With a little influence from a group of kids at school, Noah decided that Pokémon was the key to recess entertainment. He had no cards to trade, however, and he never asked us to buy him a pack of cards. Instead, he sat down one night and started making his own Pokémon trading cards. He meticulously cut out rectangles of cardstock paper and he drew ugly creatures on each and every card. He gave them all names and assigned them each a super power. He made 37 cards! The next day, Noah came home from school and tearfully told his daddy that nobody wanted to trade with his homemade cards. In fact, the other kids called his cards “fake” and “stupid.” He was crushed, but I was truly annihilated as my heart broke for him.

Yesterday morning the mailman delivered 50 perfectly branded Pokémon cards, courtesy of my husband and a $7.00 eBay shopping spree. The cards went out to dinner with us last night. They were carefully placed on Noah’s headboard before bed. They almost went to church with us this morning. They’ve been sorted and counted and admired more than my Coach purse. Tomorrow they will make their first-grade recess debut.

What about the 37 homemade cards? Those will be stored away in Noah’s keepsake box and one day I will tell him the story of a little boy with creativity for miles and I hope he will be just as proud of those homemade cards as he was last week. Should we have bought him branded cards to make up for his disappointment? I have no frickin’ idea. Do I care? Not really.

Is this camping?

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I didn’t camp much as a child. My only real memory of camping was a weekend with Uncle Ed and Auntie Rita at a Yogi Bear’s Jellystone campground where my dad accidentally pitched our tent on top of a spider’s nest. In his defense, we arrived in the dark and had just narrowly escaped a group of angry pre-teens who didn’t appreciate our station wagon headlights shining on their outdoor Yogi movie.

I camped in a tent once or twice with my husband and spent one entire evening shaking through a severe lightening storm waiting for a tree to crush my skull. While admittedly not a huge fan of the tent camping, I love all that goes along with the full camping experience…hiking, biking, kayaking, bonfires, s’mores, Toby Keith, and Tanqueray. I wanted it all, and so began our camping evolution.

The tent retired into the basement and we bought a pop-up camper. Had some good times in that old Dutchman and even camped into Month 8 of my first pregnancy. God bless the Luggable Loo. A couple years went by and we splurged on a used hard-sided camper, which we still own today. We’ve blown all four tires, almost lost a side wall on the Interstate, smashed a window and cracked a water pipe. Time for an upgrade?

While a friend might (and does) argue that dining in supper clubs and having a private bathroom is not camping, it suits me just fine. That said, this past weekend when we took our not-so-trusty old camper to northern Wisconsin with the kiddos, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we have evolved a little too far.

What do you think? Too much?!

Lost & Found

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I am not a lucky traveler. Usually it’s not my fault. Sometimes the landing gear won’t retract. Sometimes there is a smoke smell in the cockpit. Sometimes there is too much wind in Chicago. I can’t control these things. Yesterday was different. Yesterday I was a moron.

THURSDAY, JULY 12
7:00am. Checked out of my room in sunny Miami, left my suitcase with the bellman, walked to Starbucks for a much-needed jolt before a four-hour meeting.

7:15am. While paying for Venti Skinny Caramel Macchiato, I discovered that my AMEX and driver’s license were not in my wallet. Panicked knowing that I was flying home in a few hours.

7:30am. Provided hotel security guard with a good laugh when I asked if anybody had returned a driver’s license and American Express card. “Good luck, Lady.”

7:40am. Pulled suitcase back from bellman, opened it in the lobby and gently felt for the plastic while praying that my unmentionables didn’t fall out in front of hotel guests and far too many colleagues.

7:45am. Called my husband on his way to work, begged him to turn around and go home for my passport and e-mail a copy to me at the hotel.

8:30am. Stepped out of meeting to retrieve my passport copy and also request a copy of driver’s license from the DMV. Cancelled AMEX. Hotel Business Center rocks.

11:30am. Copy of driver’s license never arrived. DMV sucks.

11:45am. Slipped out of sandals and retraced my steps on a crowded beach thinking that just maybe the items fell out of my pocket on a walk the previous night.

12:00pm. Boarded shuttle to airport armed only with passport copy, bank statement copy, and debit cards.

12:30pm. Stepped up to the American Airlines counter, explained my situation and handed my passport copy to the ticket agent. “I don’t see a reservation for you, Miss Adsit.” Miss Adsit?! I haven’t been Miss Adsit for over eight years. I guess that was the last time I needed my passport. My passport sucks.

1:00pm. Entered into a private interrogation with an unfriendly TSA agent. What is your current address? What is the address where you lived nine years ago? What is the make and model of your current vehicle? What is the make and model of your previous vehicle? What is your husband’s name? What is your husband’s birth date? What was the date of your last menstrual cycle? Oh never mind, that was my doctor.

1:30pm. All questions answered correctly except the one from me…how the pickle do YOU know all of that information about ME?!

3:30pm. Boarded plane to Chicago. Asleep before take-off.

6:50pm. Boarded plane to Madison.

9:30pm. Boarded Tempur-Pedic® Memory Foam mattress.

FRIDAY, JULY 13
5:00pm. Quickly unpacked and tossed clothes from suitcase to laundry chute.

5:05pm. AMEX and driver’s license fly out together almost hitting me in the face.

I suck.

Dripping with diamonds

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Last weekend the Queen of England celebrated her Diamond Jubilee, celebrating 60 years as Monarch. Last weekend, my Auntie Roma and Uncle Gil celebrated their 60th Diamond Wedding Anniversary and some might say that Queen Roma has enjoyed her reign as well. While they do bear partial resemblance to Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip (see photo), they also have a true partnership that has worked and endured the test of time.

There are few occasions in which I would be willing to sit in the third row of my own minivan while my husband drives to Milwaukee with my mom, dad, brother, and sister-in-law. A party to commemorate 60 years of marriage is one them. As an added bonus, I was literally the third youngest person in the room, beaten in youth only by my second cousins. If I had been feeling a little down about my next milestone birthday, this was the place to make me feel like a teenager again!

On Sunday morning in the afterglow of supper club heaven, I started thinking about what it means to be married for 60 years. How did they do it? What is their secret? I surely wanted to know, so I asked and this is what they told me:

  1. Faith in God
  2. Respect for each other
  3. Common interests like snow skiing, water skiing, traveling, music, enjoying social activities
  4. Keeping marriage vows, including two vow renewals in the Fern Grotto in Hawaii
  5. A good sense of humor

Maybe these five things aren’t actually big secrets. After all, I have watched this duo exhibit these qualities for my entire life. Although, I was never invited to Hawaii. What gives, Auntie Roma?!

Congratulations on your special anniversary and thank you for sharing it with us. ♥

My trash = your treasure, I

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Just one of the many tables filled with toys.

More than two full racks of clothes for kids organized by size and season!

Garage sale season has officially arrived as evidenced by the slew of signs on every corner in my small town. Do you love them or hate them? Do you find them dirty or intriguing? Do you stretch your neck when driving by in hopes of spotting that Blatz Beer sign you’ve been missing since you were 17? Or do you avoid them altogether for fear of finding that creepy plush Ronald McDonald doll that your mom taunted you with for years?

This very weekend I am playing hostess to the most epic of all Tiede garage sales. I have teetered down the attic steps with arms full of boxes, I have climbed up from the basement dragging comforters, luggage and home decor galore. But mostly, I have shed tears sorting through toys and clothes that my children have outgrown. As I mentioned in a previous blog, I welcome the maturing of my kids. I am not crying because they’ve outgrown the beautiful dresses and coolest toys ever. I’m crying because I’m cheap and I can’t believe we paid $25 for the Zhu Zhu Pet and Fun House that Noah played with for five minutes and now we’ll be lucky to sell for $2.00.

I’m so cheap, in fact, that I refuse to pay for a classified ad in the local newspaper. Do you know the going rate for classified ads? It costs $16 for 10 words and 60¢ for each additional word.  I can’t even get my street address and hours of operation in the ad for under $20 and that doesn’t allow me to begin describing the sheer awesomeness of my garage sale!

Then I remembered that I AM A DIGTAL MARKETER. I am a blogger. I am a tweeter. I am a Facebooker. I use Craig’s List. And I pin pins on Pinterest!

So I present to you, my faithful readers, a brazen and bold digital plug for the sale of my Tiede Treasures:

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

This Thursday beginning at 4:30pm sharp, you are all invited to attend the garage sale to end all garage sales. There will be more toys than FAO Schwartz. There will be baby essentials like wipe warmers, bouncy seats, and changing pads. There will be racks of clothes organized on hangers by size and season. There will be nursing pajamas with only minor Lansinoh stains…c’mon ladies, don’t judge — you know it’s inevitable. There will be a pink motorized jeep for your little princess. There will be an infant carrier for your newborn bundle of joy. There will be a Kelty backpack for your slightly older bundle of joy. There will be a One Step Ahead Sit n Stand stroller for your second bundle of joy. There will be home decor that I can no longer bear to look at on my walls and shelves, but there’s no shame in admitting that you can’t live without them. There will be beauty supplies. There will be one kick-ass pair of boots. There will be an interview-ready suit that I clearly don’t need because my job rocks. There will be kitchen rugs. There will be bathroom rugs. There will be shower curtains. Hey! I just realized that you can redecorate your entire bathroom at my garage sale!

Stop by and check out all of the goodies you will find in my garage and on my driveway this weekend. The children are not for sale, but almost everything else you see can be yours for a small price. The sale of my husband is negotiable.

Lia, my bringer of good news

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This morning at approximately 12:38am my precious baby girl turned three years old. Like most parents, my husband and I enjoy reminiscing about that perfect day when baby Lia came into our lives. Oh wait, did I say perfect?! Crying, screaming, cursing, bleeding…maybe not so perfect. But damn, she was the most beautiful baby girl I had ever laid eyes on. Still is.

While I have cherished (almost) every stage of Lia’s three years, I don’t relate to those parents who struggle to accept the reality that their babies grow more independent with each passing day. In fact, I welcome the independence. When we had finally chosen a name for our unborn baby girl, we considered three spellings: Leah, Lea, and Lia. Our online research revealed that the first two had meanings associated with weary and dependent. The latter meant bringer of good news. Not much deliberation needed after that little discovery! Lia was the clear winner and this girl could never be mistaken for either weary or dependent! It was an added bonus that Lia was the Italian spelling for my favorite name and a special tribute to my ancestry.

Yes, there are certainly times when I love a good snuggle in the glider singing “You are my Sunshine” to this baby girl of mine. But better yet, I love when she sings it right back to me. Or she sings new songs that she learned at childcare. Or she tells me that I’m her very best friend. Or she puts her jacket on without my help. Or she blows her nose. Or she climbs up to the table without a boost. Or she picks up her toys. Or she makes a new friend. Or she tinkles in the toilet. Or she eats a cheeseburger instead of a cheese sandwich. Or she slips on her own shoes. Or she slips on my shoes. Or she pedals her tricycle. Or she washes her hands. Or she turns off her bedroom light. Or she pumps her legs on the swings. Or she tells me that her tummy hurts rather than making me guess. Or she puts her dirty clothes down the laundry chute. Or she calls me pretty. Or she does a perfect forward roll in tumbling class. Or she prefers walking to being carried. Or she tells her brother that Olivia is better than Sponge Bob. Or she kisses her dolls goodnight. Or my all-time personal favorite…she says, “I love you mommy!”

Happy Birthday to my one and only baby girl. May you grow big and strong, but always need your mommy for the most important days and moments in your life.

Laughing at technology (failure)

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Sometimes I laugh at inappropriate times. I’ve been known to get a case of the giggles in the middle of the night when I recall something that happened to me during the day. Or in a crowded movie theater when everybody else is silent. Or in this morning’s instance, the giggles came in the middle of a church hymn. It wasn’t my first time giggling in church. When I was younger, my brother had a habit of leaning over and whispering things in my ear during a long Catholic Homily that would make me giggle until tears rolled down my cheeks.

What made me giggle in church this morning? A mere 10-second glitch in technology. You see, my church prides itself in the audio visual features of a “hands-free service.” This includes a Madonna-style headset for the pastor and no more thumbing through a 600-page hymnal to find the right song. Now the lyrics are projected on a large screen for all to see and sing along. Today in the middle of Here I am, Lord the screen went dark for 10 seconds. For those 10 seconds, Here I am sounded like a remix of the kindergarten choir and gasps of uh oh’s. The man in front of me almost dropped his glasses while fumbling to find the thick green song book.  A baby cried. Looks of panic were exchanged. I giggled. The projector lights came back on and everybody relaxed. I was still giggling.

Technology is awesome, but every single day it fails somewhere in the world. Why are we so shocked and unprepared when it happens? My day job revolves around using new technologies to convey a message, strengthen a brand, and ultimately to make money for the company. But you can’t rely only on the technology because it’s just not a sure thing. You can spend $25K on a cool Flash video for your website and then find out that Flash technology will no longer be supported by any mobile operating systems. Oh wait, that did happen!

You need to be an innovative thinker and not just a user of innovation. Be smart, be creative, and be flexible. You never know when the screen will go dark in church or the DVR will malfunction and you’re forced to pull yourself away from the television and into a book, a board game, or maybe a puzzle. No batteries required.