I am about three and a half months into the new job–14 weeks and going on 15, to be more precise–and April has been the busiest yet. The good news is that our office is running really well, and we’ve been notching a few big wins as we go. This week we wrapped up our employee giving campaign, and we hosted our spring donor event.
The spring donor event was decidedly different–we changed up a lot of things that had traditionally been done year after year: the menu, the decor, the music. Tradition is important, and I was admittedly a bit nervous about what might happen if we messed with it.
But our team of folks really came through. The food, handpicked by our event organizer, was by all accounts very good. (We used Langtree Catering and Events, and they really pulled it off.) The decor was a step away from the “fish fry” model we’ve used and leaned toward a more business banquet appearance. We used a college band to provide the music, and they had several inquiries about other gigs by the end of the night. We slightly improved the beer and wine offerings, and we included a 20-minute program in the middle of everything, which was well received. Continue reading “While I’m waiting for the computer to finish downloading software”
Somewhere along the way I determined that I ought to write letters to you guys every few years on your birthdays, and just this week I was trying to figure out if this was your year.
It couldn’t be, I thought, because surely it wasn’t that long ago that I’d sat down to write a note to you. But I was wrong.
It’s very much possible that this is the last letter that I write to you that’s an open letter–one that I publish on my silly little online journal–in part because, only recently, you’ve seemed to understand that there’s a world wide web that sees so many of the things we capture with our little metal and glass phones and upload through the thin air. It caught me by surprise when I snapped a picture of you, a fun one, I thought, and you looked at it and told me not to put it on Facebook.
Your laughter spun time into a dervish, and here we are. A year old.
My dear Annie Elizabeth, you deserve to hear this from me.
As it turns out, somewhere between two and three children was the time it took to make these little videos, these little poems about your getting older. It’s not that we didn’t take ten thousand pictures—we did—it’s just that you turned out to be the tipping point in time.