Salute to Secretaries

© Dashk | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Dashk | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Offices aren’t what they used to be. When I was a kid, my dad–and everybody else’s dad that I knew–had a secretary. She was always very nice and had candy on her desk, plus she answered his phone, ran his errands, kept his calendar and knew where he was all the time, even when my mom had no idea.

When I got older and got cubicled for the first time, I discovered that these secretaries weren’t just the ones who knew where the bosses were all the time, they were the ones who knew how to make the coffee, operate the copy machine, send a fax or find an extra large paper clip. They also knew when the boss was in a good mood and was likely to say “yes” to a day off, and even more importantly, when the boss was in a bad mood and was likely to bite your head off if you asked him to hold the elevator. Secretaries had super powers like eyes in the backs of their heads, and ears that could hear through walls. They could make appointments appear or disappear with a flick of their pen, and make or break your career with the raise of an eyebrow.

My boss called his secretary his “work spouse,” which was a pretty apt description. He would have been literally lost without her–she printed up a color-coded itinerary (“don’t forget to go potty and eat lunch”) and driving directions for him every day. Now, a whole generation of these Wonder Women seems to be lost. I’m guessing they’ve discovered they have the power of invisibility.

According to the International Association of Administrative Professionals (IAAP), there are more than 4.1 million administrative assistants and secretaries in the United States, but I defy you to find one anywhere but on school campuses.

Call an office today and you’re lucky to get a real live person to answer the phone, let alone a real live person that resides in the same country, let alone the same building, as the person you’re trying to reach. And as to knowing the boss’s whereabouts: good luck. You can try her cell phone, pager, emailing or texting her, but if she doesn’t answer, there’s nothing you can do but sit there in limbo and wonder if she’s mad at you or just taking a day off.

We used to have Secretaries Day, where everyone in the office chipped in for flowers and took our Gal Friday out for their annual lunch. That’s all over with now. Secretaries, where they still exist, have been transformed from the Target to the Tiffany’s of office professionals.

In fact, it’s hard to find anyone who’s not in the White House Cabinet that calls themselves secretaries. The politically correct term is “Administrative Professionals,” with this entire week designated to wine and dine them and generally try to bribe them into making sure your career stays on track.

According the IAAP, there’s been a ginormous evolution in clerical duties in the past 20 years. Where secretaries once took phone messages (remember those little pink slips of paper?), now they “coordinate communications.”

Technology has taken over so many of the tasks that secretaries used to do; we’re now up to Office Assistant version 3.3. Secretaries used to take dictation and shorthand, then type memos and letters. Now they’ve mastered integrated computer software applications and use the work “task” as a verb.

Whereas before we always knew they could do the boss’s job blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs, now they actually do the boss’s job.

How do you show your appreciation for these unsung someones who run the show? As far as gifts go, forget the candy and the flowers. IAAP’s advice is a presentation from a motivational speaker or a membership in a professional organization, or–get this–a computer hardware/software upgrade. You call that a gift? I say nothing says “thank you” better than cold, hard cash–and pick up your own dry cleaning this week.

What’s your take on secretaries? Send me a memo, or better yet, have your people email my people at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 27, 2007

My 100th Column

Leslie was very young when she wrote her first column! Image © Daviddomi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Leslie was very young when she wrote her first column! Image © Daviddomi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Writing 100 columns sounds like a big deal, doesn’t it? You’d think my editor would have thrown me a party or at least bought me a candy bar or something.

I started writing this column right after Koss started kindergarten. When he had his 100th day of kindergarten, they had a big celebration and all of the kids had to bring in 100 of something. Most of the children brought in buttons or pennies or crayons or fish crackers–you know, kid stuff.

As an overambitious first-time kindergarten mom who really needed to impress the teacher, I had the brilliant idea that we bring in a jar filled with 100 wishes. Of course I didn’t realize at the time that Koss only had the attention span to make about 47 wishes, and 23 of those were to have another one of the cookies I used to bribe him to focus on the remaining 69 wishes.

Despite all the duplicate wishes, I eagerly anticipated my gold star from his teacher, who would surely be blown away by our creativity.

Instead she tactfully suggested that perhaps I was giving my son too much sugar, and that his attention span might improve if he expanded his vegetable repertoire beyond potato chips and French fries.

I’ve learned a lot since then. Don’t ever let you kid tell his teacher what he really eats for dinner, for starters. And don’t ever start work on a class project until you’ve had at least one glass of wine.

I’ve learned a little bit about column-writing too. For example, even if I had learned 100 things since I started writing this column, I would never have enough space to include them here. Besides, 100 is an even number, and if there’s one rule I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that odd numbers are funnier than even numbers. My husband told me so. He also seems to think the number 69 is a lot funnier that 67 or 65 for some reason.

Writing this column has really done a lot to deepen my relationship with my husband. Now, instead of crying or throwing things when we fight, I get out my notepad and start taking revenge, I mean, ahem, taking notes.

And when my son does something horribly embarrassing or cute, I get out my camera and my notepad, and sometimes my tape recorder too.

My parents didn’t realize it, but when I started tape recording their childhood stories last weekend, it wasn’t just for the family archives. You never know where you might find new material.

Another great thing I’ve learned is that when you’re writing a column about your life, everything you do can be considered working.

“Why are you napping, Leslie? It’s the middle of the day.”

It’s work. I’m writing a column about napping.

“Why are you shopping/drinking/staring at your navel in the middle of the day?”

I’m working of course. There’s never a minute for myself, I just work, work, work, even when I’m sleeping I work. It’s 25/7 around here.

Apparently writing all of those columns hasn’t done anything to improve my math skills.

This is actually my 101st column. I realized that at some point last week, but I wanted to write about spring break, so I fudged it a little bit.

See, unlike my other job–as a reporter, where you have to pay special attention to things like truth and accuracy–you get to fudge a little when you’re a columnist. So when I tell you that this is my 101st column that doesn’t mean it’s my 101st column for THIS paper; I worked for another paper before this. And it wasn’t my fault they went out of business–although it might have helped if THAT editor had thrown me a party.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 13, 2007

My Gym Diary

© Tadija | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Tadija | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

The Weight Watchers theory is that writing down what you eat can make you lose weight, so I decided to keep a going-to-the-gym-diary to help me get in better shape. Here is what happened my first seven (non-consecutive) days at the gym.

Day 1- Feel That Credit Card Burn

Like most new endeavors, getting in shape takes motivation, determination, commitment, and cold, hard cash. I want to change my life, so buying the “lifetime gym membership”–where I pay $45 a month for the rest of my life, regardless of whether I ever break a sweat–seems like a really good idea.

I’ll also need new shoes, socks, a gym bag, sweats, a heart rate monitor, water bottle, an iPod and a lifetime subscription to “Ahnold Magazine” to get started on my journey.

No wonder all these people are wiping off their equipment with $20 bills. I guess that’s the price you pay to get in shape.

Day 2 – Just Do It

There’s nothing like new shoes to put a spring in my step. I drive the 12 blocks from my house to the gym, then circle around the lot 17 times before parking 3 blocks away. I’m exhausted before I set foot in the door.

I see some moms I know from school and end up chatting for an hour, while I occasionally look appreciatively at the equipment. If you’re at the gym, does that time count as a workout? I decide that it does and feel a little superior as I leave and notice the same three cars from an hour and a half ago still waiting for parking.

Day 3 – Checking Things Out

I go up to the weight room to look around. The grunting, the cyborg noises and the mirrors all bring back horror movie flashbacks and the armpit-vomit smell reminds me of my college dorm. Maybe I’ll try the cardio machines.

I’m still learning to use the equipment, so I peek over at Skinny Sally’s control panel to see what level and program she’s using on the elliptical machine. Of course I’m not very subtle and almost lose my balance trying to crane my neck for a better view. Must be the traction on my new shoes!

She gives me a dirty, sweaty, scary stare and quickly throws her towel over the lit up panel. Meow! It’s not like I was snooping in her purse, and why is it filled with ex-lax and breath mints?

Day 4 – Not Checking Things Out

I can’t stand it any longer. My bladder’s about to burst like a wicked rhinoceros. I force myself to go into the locker room to pee. As I wash my hands, I try to avoid making eye contact with Skinny Sally, who is completely nude except for her hair dryer, and now friendly as can be.

I sit down on a bench to compose myself.

When I look up, there’s a 95-year-old naked woman, Wrinkled Rhonda, two inches away from my face.

Day 5 – Real Time Versus Gym Time

I keep switching treadmills, but they are all defective. There’s no way I’ve only been working out for 17 minutes. It’s been at least an hour. I try to focus on what I’ll write my column about next week. If I’m thinking about work, can I bill for my time? I would call my accountant, but the gym has gotten very strict about enforcing their no cell phone policy on the gym floor and in the locker rooms–and I don’t have an accountant. Earlier today, Wrinkled Rhonda was naked in the hallway, taking a call from her great great great great grandson.

Day 6 – Power Reading

I have an epiphany. If you read while you’re on the treadmill, the time goes by faster. I should be reading War and Peace for my book club, but Bolkonski and Tolstoy are a lot less compelling than finding out what’s going on with Carmen Electra and Joan Jett.

Is reading the “National Enquirer” at the gym the same as reading it in the grocery store? I’m pretty sure that as long as you read it standing up, then it doesn’t have any calories.

Day 7 — Look Out

I’ve discovered something else about reading at the gym. I can’t read with my glasses and I can’t see other people without them. This is good and bad. My sister still hasn’t forgiven me for not recognizing her the other day. Give me a break. She was pretty sweaty, and very blurry.

On the other hand, if I don’t make eye contact with my high school homecoming date over there on the elliptical machine, maybe he won’t recognize me. Of course I’m twice the woman I was back then–hence the gym membership–so there’s no way he’d recognize me.

I remember from theatre arts that if you’re backstage and you can’t see the audience, they can’t see you either. I wonder if this is how it works at the gym? Maybe I should just take off my glasses when I look at the scale and forget about the gym completely.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound March 30, 2007

The Amazing Adventures of Danger Boy and Wimpy Mom

© Kapu | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Kapu | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I stared up at Koss in amazement, as he confidently donned his bike helmet and harness to climb Gibraltar Rock. He looked so little, just a wisp of a boy, yet so excited and sure of himself. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Then I looked down at Rattlesnake Canyon 150 feet below, and almost lost my footing–and my lunch.

What kind of nut job mom lets their seven-year-old kid climb a mountain? Yet, there I was, terrified and shaking, watching from the side of the road. My Little Danger Boy was about to try rock climbing for the first time, with only a rope, a helmet and a harness to protect him from harm.

It was all his teacher’s fault. Teacher Danger Boy is an avid rock climber, and he promised the kids he would take them climbing as a belated Christmas gift. Talk about the gift that keeps on giving–grey hairs. Now it was time for him to “pay up on his promise,” and I was a wreck.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the mountain. It’s been well documented that I’m not exactly the queen of all things daring and dangerous. My fears are completely rational. When I was 16 years old I took a 25-foot spill down a cliff onto the beach, and therefore all cliffs–even biggish sand dunes–are extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.

OK, I was wearing flip-flops and was too busy flirting with the boy I was with to pay attention to my footing, but that doesn’t change the fact that all cliffs–and even biggish sand dunes–are extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.

But see, Big Danger Boy (a.k.a. my husband Zak) was off on a dangerous “mancation” of his own that day, kayaking down boulder-filled rivers, drinking way too much and supervising a bunch of Neanderthals wobbling their way through a testosterone- and alcohol-fueled makeshift firewalk.

Since Zak was unavailable, I had to be there to “supervise” Koss’s rock climbing adventure. I warned his teacher that I would be watching from the side of the road. Unfortunately, Teacher Danger Boy didn’t pick up on the massive waves of “please don’t make me come and watch this” vibes I was sending his way, and said it would be just fine for me to watch from afar. I could have strangled him with my bare hands, but Koss really wanted to go, and his Wimpy Mom just didn’t have the heart to say no.

Clearly I was the one that needed a helmet to protect me from the blow to the head I must have suffered that got me to edge of this cliff (if 20 feet away is still “edge”).

I flashed back to Big Danger Boy’s skydiving adventure a few years back. I spent what should have been a lovely Saturday with my nerves shot, chained to the telephone. I could have killed him when he came back with a house full of pumped-up revelers, complaining of groin pain.

This time there was stomach pain (mine) as I grabbed my camera with one hand and a tree to steady myself with the other. I don’t even like writing about this, it just wigs me out again. If I could have sent him up there with full body armor and a hovering helicopter I would have, but all I could do at that point was cross my white knuckles, fingers, toes, and eyes and watch from afar as Koss climbed up that mountain like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Through the zoom lens of my camera I could see the huge smile on his face when he got to the top. He was so pumped up and proud of himself. For a split second I thought that maybe I wasn’t such a Wimpy Mom after all.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on June 8, 2007

My Destination Vacation

© Dushenina | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Dushenina | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

While most of Santa Barbara was schussing down the slopes at Mammoth or slathering on the sunscreen in Hawaii, I spent my spring break on a guilt trip, once again. I’m a creature of habit and guilt trips are definitely my vacation destination of choice.

Well, not exactly “choice.”

I’d rather be drinking upside down margaritas in Mexico, or yachting in Europe without a care in the world, but given my current bank account, that wasn’t going to be happening this year–again. Like most other creative types who feel incredibly lucky just to be able to eke out a living without selling their souls, when there’s work to be had, I have to work.

Last week just happened to be one of those weeks. It also just happened to be the first week of Koss’s spring break. Yes, that wasn’t a typo. The FIRST week of his spring break. Apparently the families in our school district worked so hard for the three months after our three-week winter break that they need a two-week spring break to oh, say, ski in Mammoth or sun in Hawaii.

Not that I’m bitter or anything. If I could afford to take FIVE weeks off in the middle of the school year and go somewhere glamorous, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m sure if I left out enough bowls of cereal, the kid would be fine.

Instead, I sent my son to camp, where he golfed, bowled, fished, hiked, learned a few swear words, and had a marvelous time. I, of course, felt incredibly guilty.

Despite the fact that I take my son to school every day, spend a ridiculous amount of time volunteering at his school when I should be working, then pick my son up from that same school every single day, have a semi-nutritious snack waiting for him in the car, and am always there after school to help him with his homework, schedule play dates, play handball, and take him to soccer/basketball/baseball/whatever else is in season practice–if I spend even a small part of his school breaks working, I feel guilty. If I spend a large part of those breaks working, I feel really guilty.

And if, as was the case last week, I spend a part of those school breaks actually taking a break for myself, say by putting him in camp all day while I do some writing and then go to the movies, I feel really, really guilty. Especially when my husband surprises me and says he wants to go to the movies one night during the week. Do I admit that I’ve actually already seen everything worth seeing? Then I’ll feel really guilty since he’s the one who’s been working full time while I’m doing full time chauffer/ part time career thing from home, which is actually harder, I know, because I’ve worked full time before when he stayed at home, but I feel guilty saying that because I know he’d switch positions with me in a heartbeat if I’d let him.

It’s a vicious cycle. But I’m comforted to know that I’m not the only woman who was raised on a diet of guilt (though mine was well seasoned with plenty of humor, I should add, so that I won’t feel too guilty when my mother reads this). A recent article in the Washington Post told the story of a woman in Virginia who felt so guilty about leaving her family in the evening that she almost missed out on an interesting lecture–titled “Mommy Guilt.”

Honey, I feel your pain, but I’ve decided to play through it anyway.

Rather than guilt tripping about my need to have a little bit of time to myself–and taking it anyway–I’m going to make friends with my guilt and take it on a few more outings this week. You won’t see us on the slopes, unfortunately, but maybe you’ll see us at the movies.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound April 6, 2007

Education 101

Are Santa Barbara Schools Making the Grade?

Education 101, story from Santa Barbara Magazine

Education 101, from Santa Barbara Magazine

Education 101, from Santa Barbara Magazine

For better or worse, the days when parents would simply whisk their children off to the nearest school are long gone. Discussions of “where are you sending your child?” dominate local parks, pediatrician’s offices and preschool playgrounds. While there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all approach to education, luckily we have lots of options in Santa Barbara. In general, our schools are getting better too–a concerted effort is underway to narrow the achievement gap between middle- to upper-class and low-income students. “Our schools are improving,” according to experts including longtime local educator Gerrie Fausett, the current superintendent of the Hope School District and former principal of Santa Barbara Junior High and Washington Elementary School on the Mesa. She says that schools are “doing a better job educating our students, and have particularly improved in their work with students that are not meeting academic expectations. The improvements and the dedication to making sure that kids are learning what they need to learn are moving forward.” Continue reading

Mating in the Millennium

Stuart Miles (Freedigitalphotos.net)

Stuart Miles (Freedigitalphotos.net)

The singles scene is changing fast.

Leslie Dinaberg tags along to dig up the dish on blind dating — 21st-century style.

MAN SEEKING WOMAN: Funny guy with killer body and money to burn seeks woman who doesn’t believe everything she reads.

Eye catching ad, isn’t it? It should be. That’s the online dating promo for professional online personal ad writer Evan Marc Katz, founder of e-cyrano.com, just one of the many Web sites for people who are looking for love in all kinds of interesting places. Continue reading

Life lessons

Courtesy Photo

Courtesy Photo

For some it’s all about the sweets, but the practical experience of selling can turn a girl into one smart cookie

Along with the taste of Thin Mints, Samoas and Tag-a-longs, local Girl Scouts are also savoring the sweet smell of success while learning how to set goals, be persistent, organize their schedules and other valuable skills.

“I don’t really have a secret; my mom and I, we just go everywhere, door to door (selling cookies),” said Tiondra Flynn, an 8th grader at Carpinteria Middle School who is one of the top sellers in the area. “Last year I made a goal for myself of 2,000 boxes and I’m at 2,002 right now.”

Goal setting is one of the most important skills learned selling cookies. “(They ask themselves) what do I need to do to accomplish an end result benefit? It might be the reward (that motivates the girls) but to get there requires specific behavior,” said Jeff Blackman, author of five books for sales professionals, including the recent Amazon bestseller Stop Whining, Start Selling.

The girls set pretty high goals and figure out very creative ways of reaching them, said Mary Hernandez of the local Girl Scouts of Tres Condados Council. “If they don’t reach that goal that’s another life lesson.”

The girls and adult volunteers select all of the incentives; they’re not preplanned, said Hernandez.

Last year Valerie Vampola sold more than 1,000 boxes and earned a free week at summer camp. “I want to see if I can do it again,” said the St. Raphael School 7th grader.

“They give us prizes for every hundred (boxes) or so, but if we reach 1,000 we get to go to Camp Tecuya for free. I’ve been going for like five years, it’s a really cool place,” said Flynn.

Along with summer camp, t-shirts, backpacks and beach towels can be earned. Some of the girls are motivated by college scholarships. “The reason why I’m still selling cookies, they have a scholarship program. If I’m a Girl Scout all the way through high school, I get a scholarship of 35 cents per box,” said Flynn, who said she’s really fond of animals and someday wants to train killer whales “like they do at Sea World.”

“By setting goals you give yourself a road map of what to follow rather than aimlessly pursuing the task,” said Maura Schreier-Fleming, president of Best@selling.

It’s important to set realistic goals, said Steve Waterhouse, president of the Waterhouse Group. And also to have a process tied to that goal. The girls should figure out how many houses to visit if they want to sell a certain number of cookies. “If you want to sell 50 boxes you can’t go out for just half an hour.”

While some pros said persistence is critical, Jacques Werth, author of High Probability Selling, disagrees. “We’ve studied what the top sales people do in 23 different industries on three continents. You shouldn’t spend more than one minute with people who don’t want to buy,” said Werth. “It’s all about dealing with people on the basis of mutual trust and respect. When you refuse to take no for an answer that’s not showing respect.”

“I’ve definitely learned how to take a no for answer,” said Flynn, who’s been in scouting for almost eight years. “If they just say ‘no,’ then I just say ‘thanks,’ then I just leave. When I was first starting out as a Brownie, I didn’t understand why they didn’t want any. I would be like ‘Oh, how come?’ ”

“In reality, getting a NO from a prospect is just as valuable as a YES. … Because while you are wasting your time hounding someone to get them to buy, Lord knows how many prospects, who would be much easier to sell, are getting away from you?” said Jim Labadie, owner of Howtogetmoreclients.com.

“(You have to) not be afraid to ask people. You never know who will buy and who won’t,” said Vampola. “And then sometimes if they say no, sometimes I try to encourage them to buy.”

Parental support is an important ingredient in the girl’s success. “My parents help me out. They bring (sign-up) sheets to their jobs and I go door to door, and then when cookies are finally out I try to go to booth sales as often as I can and stay there as much time as I can,” said Vampola, whose mother Irma is her troop leader and father Mark is the cookie chairman as well as the booth chairman for the region.

Flynn’s mother Pete is also her troop leader and an expert in the up-sell technique, according to her daughter. “If they give us $20, she’ll say ‘you can buy five with that’ rather than immediately giving them change,” said Flynn.

Another technique that works well for Girls Scouts is called “assumptive selling.” When author Blackman’s daughter Brittney was about 7 or 8, their town endured a really cold winter, and it was tough to sell cookies door to door. Rather than give up, Brittney simply picked up the phone and called every single person who bought from her the previous year. Her pitch: “Would you like to order the same number of boxes as last year or should I put you down for even more?”

Sounds like one smart cookie indeed.

Originally published in South Coast Beacon

Bungalow Haven

mapWhat started out as a simple opportunity to socialize with neighbors and get to know a little more about American bungalow style architecture and restoration has quickly morphed the Bungalow Haven Neighborhood Association into a vibrant, politically active neighborhood watchdog group.

Bungalow Haven was formed about two years ago by neighbors Dee Duncan and her husband Steve Dowty, and Judy and Sayre Macneil.

“The original intent was social,” said Cheri Rae, another member of the association. Rae said the group has a couple of hundred members representing about 125 households and meets once a month at Duncan and Dowty’s home. They also have an active email list and several subcommittees, including a political action committee that is currently reviewing its position on the proposed development of the former St. Francis Medical Center property.

The Bungalow Haven neighborhood — roughly bounded by Alta Vista, Laguna, Anapamu and Micheltorena streets — began to mobilize when they learned of a plan to construct 18 new units on the 1400 block of Laguna Street and relocate five bungalows. The project — developed by Capital Pacific Holding LLC and designed by architect Detlev Peikert — was well underway before the neighbors really became aware of it. However, at least in part from their efforts (including numerous appearances before the planning commission and the architectural board of review) the project has been scaled back to retain three of the existing bungalows on the property, along with plans to build the 15 new units in craftsman style rather than the originally planned red tile roofs.

“We’ve shown up 50 at a time and I think that was part of why we’ve been so successful. People were so amazed to see such a large bunch of people who were very articulate,” said Rae, who has been sharing strategies with other neighborhood associations.

Mike Jogoleff, who has lived in Bungalow Haven since childhood, fears continued encroachment by developers would ruin the neighborhood’s character. “If somebody’s working against us like these big development companies, they just come in and screw everybody,” he said.

One of the steps the neighborhood association is taking to prevent more “condo mania” is working to establish Bungalow Haven as a Historic Landmark District. Regarding the Laguna Street project, Rae said, “… we’ve all had a steep learning curve on what the rules are, and we want to prevent it from ever happening again.”

To obtain historic status, the group must first finish a neighborhood survey cataloguing the historic elements throughout the approximately 300 homes in the neighborhood. “We’re modeling our approach on the El Pueblo Viejo and the Brinkerhoff Districts. They are (the) only two historic districts in the town so far, so we’re doing the same thing that they did,” she said.

Rae admitted, “It’s a little ironic when we say with disdain, ‘they’re putting in million dollar condos’ when our houses are creeping up toward million dollar houses. It’s just (that) what you get for your money is not stucco and brand-new efficient appliances, but you get some charm.”

Jogoleff is also keenly aware that the working-class neighborhood he grew up in has changed. ” As my neighbor says, the people that buy our houses are not going to be painters and teachers. It’s going to be lawyers, doctors, accountants.”

While development projects have been catalysts, they aren’t the primary reason for the group. “The group is to preserve this style of life, simple and kind of a calmer way of life. None of us chose to go live in a tract house in Goleta. That’s just not what we wanted. … We’re not out there recruiting members. … The whole idea is for peaceful coexistence and neighborhood protection,” Rae said.

“We’re not anti-development … it’s just within reason and it’s within scale and size and having respect for the neighborhoods that are already here. It makes no sense whatsoever to develop for new people who come in when you ignore the neighbors that are already here and have built Santa Barbara to be what it is. … We feel like we’re part of the fabric of this town and we want to be able to stay here and not be run out because we can’t have the kind of life that we want to have here,” Rae said.

Originally published in South Coast Beacon

A girlfriend’s guide to Santa Barbara parenting

Rachael Steidl (courtesy photo)

Rachael Steidl (courtesy photo)

A Web site devoted just to harried parents offers information 24/7

Many stay-at-home moms dream of starting a business, but Rachael Steidl actually went out and did it. Working from 8 p.m. until midnight most nights, and squeezing in an additional 20 hours a week when her three daughters are otherwise occupied, Santa Barbara Parent Source (SBParent.com) has become an indispensable resource for parents just a year after launching.

Part Internet portal and part bulletin board, the site is a centralized place for all things related to parenting in Santa Barbara. Need an activity for your son’s birthday? There are two pages of listings, with descriptions, contact information and links to Web sites. That’s in addition to resource links for catering, invitations, locations, party coordinators and supplies, plus tips on gift ideas and thank you notes.

Want the skinny on camp signups? It’s all there, as is information on taxes, a calendar of kid-related events and a whole lot more. Parents want bullet points, said Steidl.

“As a mom … I’m tired of looking in phone books and just getting a name and a number,” she said. “I want information.”

Steidl said she first thought about writing a book of resources for parents, but abandoned the idea. Things change too quickly.

“I literally update stuff every single day on the Web site,” she said. “The other thing (that makes the Web ideal) is parents look for information at the most random times. You’ve got one parent who’s looking for preschool a month before they need it, and you’ve got one parent looking while they’re pregnant.

“What I’ve told businesses from the get-go is that people need to have this information year round, so that they know that they can find the information anytime they feel like going and looking for it.”

The site is supported 100 percent by advertising, which keeps it free to parents.

“What I really try to encourage businesses to do, and some have been very supportive of this, is that by listing on the site you’re giving parents choices,” she said. “You may not need the business, but there’s parents who want to know about your program and may not be talking to the right people to find out about it.”

The company also publishes an e-newsletter twice a month, which Steidl said is catching on quickly. In addition to listing upcoming events, the newsletter features articles of interest to parents and philanthropic opportunities for families. Giving back to the community is an important value for Steidl. Recently she co-sponsored the first annual Mother’s Day 5K and Family Festival, in partnership with Jamie Allison from Moms in Motion, and part of the proceeds went to Domestic Violence Solutions.

“Both Jamie and I share a very similar philosophy to support moms and women and taking care of themselves and staying connected with people,” she said.

To connect with Steidl and Santa Barbara Parent Source visit www.sbparent.com or call 448.2426.

Originally published in South Coast Beacon (2005)