I heard a great motivational speaker last night. His presentation was wonderful which made up for the fact that it was a black tie event that required me to find and don a pair of panty hose. Am I the only one who thinks of sausage when I squeeze those things up and around my midsection? Keith Harrell travels the country, talking about attitude and how it affects our whole being. I’ve sat through many a motivational/leadership presentation, and this guy was one of the best I’ve ever heard. He hammered away at the idea that we control ourselves, and if we allow someone else’s negative thoughts to weaken our performance or destroy our self confidence and happiness, it’s our own fault. It’s pretty much the same principle I had discussed earlier in the day at a support group meeting, so I was all Stuart Smalley by about ten o’clock last night. And when I got up this morning I was ready to put into play Mr. Harrell’s rule about not letting someone or something steal my joy. That was a little harder than I thought it would be. The joy thieves were everywhere.
-The silver Buick clogging up the left lane on the way to work-joy stealer. Again. What’s with that broad? Oops! Maybe I stole HER joy.
-iPod tuner out of reach on the floor of the car-another joy stealer.
-Lack of time to snag my Friday sausage biscuit on the way to work, leaving me with oatmeal instead-jumbo joy stealer.
-Only one cherry in my mid-morning fruit cocktail snack-Petty larceny. The quality of fruit cocktail is judged on the number of cherries in the can, you know.
-Bank balance even though it was payday-First degree felon. Thank you broken stove and busted radiator.
-Cranky clerk at drive thru window-Jumbo value sized joy thief.
-Unfinished project that will still be waiting on me when I get back to work Monday-HUGE joy stealer.
-And see this? This is the last of thirteen gazillion plants we got at the funeral home when Hubby’s grandma died several years ago. We’ve managed to kill the rest of them, and he really wants to keep this one alive. We don’t have a good place for it in our house, so each winter I take it from our deck and bring it to work where I have to remember to water the dadburn thing for about six months. This plant? J-O-Y-S-T-E-A-L-E-R. It saps the happy right out of me to look at that thing every day all day long worrying about whether or not I’ve killed it yet.
But ya’ know what? None of it fazed me much today. I managed to let all of that little stuff slide right by me. I managed to stay in good spirits by keeping Mr. Harrell’s pearls of wisdom in mind. Hmm. Maybe he’s right. This might work. We’ll see. The real test has just gotten underway. That’s right. Family. Can I make it throughout the rest of the evening without letting those potential happiness thieves rob me blind? It all depends on how hormonal Teen Angel is and whether or not she finishes her chores. Moody sixteen year old daughter? Persistent Felony Offender. Of course, she's also the biggest source of joy in my life.
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