 In accounting, reconciliation brings peace - numbers align, accounts settle, and everything balances out. But in my personal life, one line item continues to throw my ledgers off: pollen.
Spring usually signals a lighter workload in accounting. After the chaotic close of year-end and the first-quarter crunch, there’s a sigh of relief, until I step outside. That sigh is quickly followed by a cough. Or, in my son’s case, multiple sneezes! Over the last few weeks, I’ve been bouncing between the pediatrician and allergist more than I’ve been reconciling bank accounts. My son, who plays soccer with all the energy of a year-end close, has been benched not by a rival team, but by Georgia’s infamous yellow haze. Unlike a spreadsheet, pollen doesn’t come with filters, formulas, or clear variances from year to year. It just piles on, unpredictably. I didn’t budget for this season’s allergy injections or the unplanned pharmacy runs. So now, I’m drafting a new plan - one with nightly antihistamines, neti pots, humidifiers, and a line item for sanity. Spring is supposed to bring balance, but this year, it brought imbalance to our noses, throats, and calendar. And while I may never fully reconcile the pollen count, I’m working on a streamlined solution to survive this unreconcilable season - with minimal visits to the doctor and maximum relief for my favorite goalie and defense.
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 What’s that one dish you’re absolutely great at? You know, the one you’d confidently enter into any cooking contest because it wins, hands down, every time. The dish that’s so good, your family and friends beg you to make it even when it’s not the holidays. The recipe so iconic it’s practically your culinary legacy, the one you’re ready to pass down to your kids as a family heirloom.
For me, I’ve perfected a recipe so essential, so irreplaceable, that no family function is complete without it. Holiday? Birthday? Random Tuesday pop-up dinner? I’ve got it covered. Every year, the family group chat buzzes with assignments to avoid duplicating dishes. Auntie's got the banana pudding, one of Uncle's desert is a given, and Cousin’s bringing his famous giblet gravy. And then, there’s me. What’s my contribution, you ask? The Utensils! Yes, you read that right. Festive plates, the clear top-of-the-line forks, large cups, and napkins. The unsung heroes of every meal. Let’s face it: without my perfectly curated selection of disposable dinnerware, the rest of the meal doesn’t stand a chance. You can’t eat mac and cheese with your hands (well, not gracefully). You can’t savor banana pudding without a spoon. And you definitely can’t enjoy Cousin’s gravy without a plate to catch it. I take my role seriously. Picking the right plates? A delicate balance of sturdiness and style. Napkins? Always two-ply; I’m not about to let my family suffer through flimsy one-ply disasters. Cups? Don’t even get me started. This isn’t just a contribution, it’s an art form. I may not be whipping up gourmet dishes, but my utensils are the foundation of every successful meal. And if that’s not something to be proud of, I don’t know what is. After all, what’s a family feast without the tools to enjoy it? So, while others leave a legacy of recipes, I leave a legacy of functionality. And trust me, no one’s ever complained (while exiting with the to-go plates). Bon appétit!  For the past five or six months, I've been purging a storage filled with thirty years of memories. It's strange how uncovering items from the past has felt like meeting old friends, reuniting with people, and reliving memories I thought were tucked away for good. My storage space has been like a time capsule of forgotten books; at one time, I was an avid reader, but now, I rely on Audible. If someone suggests a book, I head to Audible before even considering Amazon. And despite my attempts at decluttering, I can’t seem to part with these books, read or unread, autographed or not. They hold memories I can't replace.
Then there are the college papers, even textbooks, that I once thought would be lifetime references, this was long before I could just look things up on the Internet. But perhaps my most cherished find is a small book by Iyanla Vanzant called Acts of Faith. For years, I've set the goal of reading the Bible in a year, but my focus tends to drift. Still, I won’t give up, it remains something I truly want to accomplish. Instead, Acts of Faith is something I can turn to daily, and each time, its message feels fresh, like an “aha” moment. Somehow, each reading reveals something new, a wisdom that resonates differently over time. This rediscovery of the old reminds me of how our professional skills are often revisited in new ways. Sometimes, an old method or idea suddenly feels relevant again or becomes the missing piece in tackling a current challenge. Sometimes, our goals get set aside, left on a shelf like an unread book. But there comes a time when we can pull them back down, revisit them, and use them in a new way—reshaping them for a different time and a better opportunity. What’s old can always be new again. Sometimes, it’s just about seeing it through new prescription glasses or even after a little corrective eye surgery.  As the end of the year approaches, my annual ritual of verifying names and addresses for W-2 and 1099 forms kicks into high gear. Every year, without fail, there’s someone who disputes the spelling of their own name—even though they may have entered it themselves in the HR system. 🤭 And then, there are the folks who “forget” to update their addresses, leaving me chasing down corrections. What should be a quick task always stretches into a marathon of updates, phone calls, and emails.
Today, to get me started, I stopped by my favorite fast-food spot for breakfast. Predictably, when they asked for my name, my simple “Veronica” usually somehow morphs into “Victoria,” “Vanessa,” or “Valerie.” Occasionally, they get it right, but then the spelling goes astray. Thankfully, these minor slip-ups don’t end up on critical documents like the W-2s I’m preparing. So, as we dive into W-2 and 1099 season, here’s a small request: give us grace for the occasional spelling mishap, we’ve done our due diligence. And if you’re one of those folks with an email address like “MoneyMaker2020” or “Cowgirl1996”—clearly a Cowboys fan who wants to reminds us of their last Super Bowl win. Or maybe you have since moved on to a more professional address, please, help us out by adding your real name in the signature! It’s the little things that make a big difference, especially when it’s for something as official as tax documents. I may be particularly sensitive to this topic because, after all, I gave my son a name that’s only four letters long: Evan. I figured fewer letters would mean fewer ways for people to get it wrong… although, somehow, it still translates to Ethan every time. So I tried, right? I may have been a little luckier with his first name, but the last name—now that was out of my control. One out of two isn’t so bad, right? As an accountant and a mom of a preteen, there are moments when both roles overlap in the most unexpected ways. Take, for example, Hurricane Helene. Just like in accounting, where we’re constantly managing unexpected financial storms, being a parent means preparing for unpredictable moments, especially with a growing, active son. When a storm hits, whether it’s managing financial reconciliations or guiding my son through the chaos of school closures and power outages, the principles remain the same: stay calm, have a plan, and adapt quickly. In accounting, much like in parenting, forecasting can only go so far, there are always variables out of our control. Hurricane Helene served as a reminder of the importance of balance. Just as I help my clients weather financial uncertainties, I also guide my son through life's storms with patience and understanding. Both roles require adaptability, problem-solving, and a lot of patience. And, of course, knowing when to take shelter, when to push forward, and rebuild. Wishing for the safety of everyone and the swift restoration of even more.  |
AuthorMeet Veronica, the voice behind "The Calculated Mind". She's the Beethoven of balance sheets, orchestrating harmonies between assets and liabilities with a symphony of spreadsheets. Veronica's love for excelling (and Excel) knows no bounds. In her world, numbers don't just add up; they tell tales of triumph and learning. Join her as she turns ledgers and balance sheets into compeling tales of fiscal adventure! Archives
April 2025
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