Groundhog Day

Last Friday when I got out of bed I was most of the way across the room when I realized I wasn't limping. "It's been six weeks," I said to my husband. "I'm not limping. I guess I'm done."

They tell you it takes about six weeks to recover from total hip replacement surgery. And on day 42 sure enough I walked cane-free.

What I don't know is how long it takes to recover mentally.

The past couple of months I've been telling myself, come February I gotta get back to work.

As I eased back last week (didn't want to pop out of the ground suddenly today) I did some writing and editing for friends and clients (my "day job"), glazed a kiln-full of pots and sold four (my new craft business), and thought about what needs to be done next for 3D Radio (my entrepreneurial exploit into consumer electronics and the raison d'etre for this blog).

But haven't done a damn thing yet except launch Blogger. My shadow indicates six more weeks of procrastination ...

Talking heads

I'm not the CEO of a household-name consumer electronics gotta-have-it device company, yet. So I spend a lot of time drinking a lot of decaf (and the occasional half-caf) with a lot of other CEO wannabes in a lot of our fair city's coffee shops. There's at least two on every block, and very few are Starbucks.


Some people call this networking. Some call them meetings. As in your cell phone rings while you're showing your fellow wannabe the latest widget on your web site, and you answer it with, "Can I call you back? I'm in a meeting."


I calls it like I sees it -- my daily or twice daily or even three times a day constitutional.


Often these get-togethers are a dud. You know everyone in the room, you've heard their story a dozen times, you've opened your contact database to them on more than one occasion.


But sometimes you hit pay dirt.


Boulder Open Coffee Club meets every other Tuesday at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m. (half-caf definitely in order) at a fine establishment called The Cup.


I didn't recognize him at first, because it's probably been a year since we've talked. But he came up to me after all the newbies had introduced themselves and the "cocktail party" segment of the club began. I didn't even recognize his name, but that's not surprising given the mid-life syndrome more and more of us succumb to every day, CRS (can't remember shit).


But once he mentioned his former company's name -- a local consumer electronics firm that has hit the big time -- it all fell into place. "You are somebody I really need to talk to," I cried. "I'm so glad you recognized me."


He gave me his new card with his new 411, and I promised to set up a coffee meeting pronto.