If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts.
-The Counting Crows

When I moved in to my most recent apartment, I bought myself a lot of really nifty small appliances — a rice cooker big enough to also be a slow cooker, a bread machine, a shiny red toaster oven that reheats pizza like a dream, a food processor. I use them to varying degrees (I have bread in the freezer right now that I baked a few days ago, but the food processor gathers dust until I need shredded carrots), but I love them all to bits.

The one thing we had when I was a kid that I didn’t buy was an electric wok. Despite being very midwestern white folk, my mom had this great big green-enameled electric wok that she used to make us stir fry this and that, usually chicken and broccoli and carrots. I don’t think she even went so far as to use soy sauce, just the usual sort of spices she used in everything else, but it was a favorite meal of mine anyway.

So, my birthday’s coming up, and usually she sends me money, which I fritter away on things like eating out and iTunes music. This time, when she asked me what I wanted, those old ghosts of meals past bobbed up and I said I wanted an electric wok. I figured, she knew what hers did back ages ago, so she’d be better at choosing one that I would.

Let me tell you, I was so right.

I got it in the mail the day before yesterday and joyfully unpacked it, having been warned to expect a box from Best Buy. It was way, way snazzier than I remember.

It’s huge, for one thing — as big now as I remember the old one being, which means it’s probably a lot bigger, given I was 12 at the time. It’s sturdy and well-built and I can even wash everything but the detachable cord, so I can’t accidentally ruin it with misplaced suds.

Yesterday was our local farmer’s market so I loaded up on veggies and locally made curried tofu, and tonight (because after all that veggie shopping, pancakes were required last night… okay, and time for the wok parts to dry thoroughly) I finally broke it out. One cubed eggplant. One big bundle of rough-chopped broccoli. Some random things from cupboards for spicing and cooking (chicken stock ice cubes, oil, soy sauce, more curry, etc), and some chopped garlic & cilantro, and we were in business.

It’s nothing at all like my mother ever made, but it makes me remember helping in the kitchen and being happy with what was for dinner, and I love this first, haunted meal from my new toy.

Thanks, Mom!

On the face of it, dyeing one’s hair (especially as much hair as I have) is frivolous and vain, and an utter waste of money.

But dyeing my hair is a little like sprucing up my website — people who’d grown accustomed to one thing sit up and take notice again. Random strangers smiled at me on the street, and I realized I was smiling first. People I barely knew stopped me to compliment me on the new look.

Then I took it up a notch, and added nail polish. I love the way painted nails look, even though they chip pretty much instantaneously for me, I love to see them tapping away at keyboards and doing the most mundane of tasks.

In the end, all this vanity has given me something I needed a dose of — confidence.

Marketing materials can be the same way. If you love your business cards, if you’re thrilled with your website, then you’ll hand people your card with a big grin and say, “visit my site!” That confidence shows, and your prospect is excited to see whatever it is you’re so proud of. But if you don’t like what you’ve got, then you’ll be apologetic or reluctant, and that sends a message to the potential clients or customers that even you aren’t confident in your product or service.

So, next time you find yourself hesitating as you hand over your card, ask yourself — is it time for a marketing material makeover?