Valentine’s Day can be lonely for single people. I know, I have been single since 1998. It seems every place I turn; I’m reminded that I have no one special in my life. Radio ads, TV ads, billboards, newspapers, and magazines each telling me I’m alone and somehow that’s bad. Would I like a special man in my life? Of course, but so far it hasn’t happened. Although I have developed a rather unique reputation. An associate of mine introduced me saying, “This is the gal I was telling you about. She has the worse dating stories of anyone I’ve ever met.” (See previous blog entry for details.) Not exactly the introduction I want.
So here I sit on February 14, writing this blog instead of snuggling with a man. This is where I have to choose not to allow negative thoughts and ideas to make me blue. When I was married, I used to hate Valentine’s Day. Holidays and vacations were the worse days of the year for me. I bring this up because so often we idealize everyone else’s lives. We assume every couple is having a greeting card moment when many of them aren’t. Just because we don’t see it, doesn’t mean everyone else is celebrating.
I wish I could tell you being single never gets be down, but it does. I struggle in this area. Today, I made the choice to focus on how much better being single is than being unhappily married. Yes, I’m home alone, but I’m here watching the Olympics and eating from a box of chocolates. Just because they are heart shaped, doesn’t mean I can’t buy them for myself. I can honestly say I haven’t had a bad day because I chose not to wallow in self pity and instead remembered how happy and blessed I am. I really do have a great life filled with plenty of people who love and care about me. If all the hype about Heart Day is breaking your heart, just think how many people all over the world would gladly trade places with you.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Scarlet NoHaira
As Valentine’s Day approaches, I’m reflecting on my dating successes or lack thereof. I’m quoting a segment from chapter 9 of my book Operation Attitude. I received my final divorce decree while I was battling breast cancer and bald. Probably not the best way to start, but I thought I’d try. I asked friends if they knew any men who wanted to date a bald chick. Sadly, I found no single men with a bald fetish. So poor little Scarlet NoHaira was forced to wait to reenter the dating scene. When I finished treatment and had grown a respectable amount of hair, I began dating. I think I’d rather face chemotherapy again.
I originally thought I would not encumber my dating experience by setting unrealistic standards. I would give everyone a chance. Shortly after, I got to know a man from church. He was significantly older, a theme I’ve found throughout dating. It seems men only want to date much younger women. The man bagged groceries at the supermarket. He was illiterate. He came to the church office for help. I wrote addresses on his envelopes for mailing. He asked me out. I decided to set at least a minimum standard for dating: the men had to be literate.
I joined a Catholic singles Bible study in a large affluent church. I assumed the potential would be greater in that environment. Wrong. I met another older gentleman there. He offered, unsolicited, the following information: He lives in a small rural community on several acres. He mows his grass in a loincloth. He does not believe in banks and has no checking account. He doesn’t use natural gas and rarely uses electricity. He cuts his own firewood and kills or grows his own food. He also states, without prompting, because no one would ask such a thing, he doesn’t use toilet paper; he uses cornhusks. I have sensitive skin and only use premium TP brands. He invited me to his farm for a home-caught and cooked meal. I kindly declined and decided I need a new dating standard: the men must be literate and must use toilet paper.
The first time I met another semi-attractive man, he described in detail how he stole motorcycles. He was apparently good at stealing, because he’d never been caught. He told me at the end of our casual dinner I was “cute enough” to call again. OK, so I needed a new, new standard: the men must be literate, must use toilet paper, and must be law abiding.
Not too long after that, I met another diamond in the rough. This man spent over an hour describing his LSD trips. How he thought he was flying, how he nearly jumped out a window, and how he thought his hand was on fire. This news may surprise you, but I didn’t ask how to steal motorcycles or what acid-induced hallucinations were like. Yet similar to the thief above, the druggie chose to reveal this information the first time we met. Those were their put-your-best-foot-forward topics of conversation. Can you imagine what they could be hiding? Time to set a new, new, new standard: no illiterates, no TP substitutes, no grand larceny, and no illegal drug use.
I briefly tried an online Christian dating service. A man from India began e-mailing me. Logistics aside, he stated he was a Catholic priest. Obviously he was not too knowledgeable about Catholicism, because he didn’t realize priests took vows of celibacy. Time for a new, new, new, new standard: no illiteracy, no cornhusks, no outstanding warrants, no illegal drug use, and no broken vows, real or fabricated. Although I’m no longer Scarlet NoHaira, I’m still single. I know it’s because I’m way too picky.
I originally thought I would not encumber my dating experience by setting unrealistic standards. I would give everyone a chance. Shortly after, I got to know a man from church. He was significantly older, a theme I’ve found throughout dating. It seems men only want to date much younger women. The man bagged groceries at the supermarket. He was illiterate. He came to the church office for help. I wrote addresses on his envelopes for mailing. He asked me out. I decided to set at least a minimum standard for dating: the men had to be literate.
I joined a Catholic singles Bible study in a large affluent church. I assumed the potential would be greater in that environment. Wrong. I met another older gentleman there. He offered, unsolicited, the following information: He lives in a small rural community on several acres. He mows his grass in a loincloth. He does not believe in banks and has no checking account. He doesn’t use natural gas and rarely uses electricity. He cuts his own firewood and kills or grows his own food. He also states, without prompting, because no one would ask such a thing, he doesn’t use toilet paper; he uses cornhusks. I have sensitive skin and only use premium TP brands. He invited me to his farm for a home-caught and cooked meal. I kindly declined and decided I need a new dating standard: the men must be literate and must use toilet paper.
The first time I met another semi-attractive man, he described in detail how he stole motorcycles. He was apparently good at stealing, because he’d never been caught. He told me at the end of our casual dinner I was “cute enough” to call again. OK, so I needed a new, new standard: the men must be literate, must use toilet paper, and must be law abiding.
Not too long after that, I met another diamond in the rough. This man spent over an hour describing his LSD trips. How he thought he was flying, how he nearly jumped out a window, and how he thought his hand was on fire. This news may surprise you, but I didn’t ask how to steal motorcycles or what acid-induced hallucinations were like. Yet similar to the thief above, the druggie chose to reveal this information the first time we met. Those were their put-your-best-foot-forward topics of conversation. Can you imagine what they could be hiding? Time to set a new, new, new standard: no illiterates, no TP substitutes, no grand larceny, and no illegal drug use.
I briefly tried an online Christian dating service. A man from India began e-mailing me. Logistics aside, he stated he was a Catholic priest. Obviously he was not too knowledgeable about Catholicism, because he didn’t realize priests took vows of celibacy. Time for a new, new, new, new standard: no illiteracy, no cornhusks, no outstanding warrants, no illegal drug use, and no broken vows, real or fabricated. Although I’m no longer Scarlet NoHaira, I’m still single. I know it’s because I’m way too picky.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Mlking the Joy in Life
We all want to milk the joy out of life. Imagine your mind as a glass of milk. Every second of your life adds another drop to the glass. There are three colors of experiences and thoughts that can be added to the glass.
Neutral or white thoughts; those are the normal everyday actions that aren’t charged with negative or positive emotions. This is what makes up large chunks of our lives.
Red thoughts are wonderful, positive, cheerful or happy thoughts. If we have mostly neutral or white thoughts mixed with red ones, we will go through life with rose colored glasses.
Blue thoughts are negative, sick, angry, destructive or unhappy ones. When we experience these thoughts or actions, we feel blue. Negative or blue moments add stress and pain to our lives.
All of our glasses of milk start out as shades of white. Then each new experience and thought adds a drop of white, red or blue to the glass. White for neutral experiences, red for positive ones and blue for negative ones. It doesn’t take too many red thoughts and experiences to turn our white milk pink. That’s why most children run around with rose-colored glasses. One tiny drop of red, like an empty box to play with, colors the day pink.
We all have red and blue EXPERIENCES; those drops of life we often can’t control and do color our outlook. However, our THOUGHTS add equally to the milk and we can control those. Remember every second puts another drop into the glass. Let’s say we get cut off in traffic. That experience takes 10 seconds so it only adds a tiny bit of blue into the glass. Now let’s say you rant on and on about the jerk who cut you off. You yell and scream at them and are angry all the way home. Then tell your friend about it on the phone. It takes an hour before you forget about the traffic incident. You have taken what lasted 10 seconds or added 10 drops of blue and turned that into 360 blue drops, number of seconds in an hour. You could have had 10 drops of blue and 350 drops of white or neutral experiences. You could have had a pale blue hour that would easily be tinted by the white and red from the rest of the day to keep you in a dusty rose mood. Instead you have dark blue that is more difficult to tint rose coloed. Remember only 10 of the 360 drops in your glass were out of your control. Take control of those 350 moments and you’ll be a much happier individual.
I've been through a divorce, cancer, going back to school, single parenting, financial insecurity and many other challenges. There were tons of moments that were out of my control, but over and over I’m amazed at how much I let them cloud the parts of the day I did and do have control over. Worry, fear, reflecting back about what others did or didn’t do, these are all nonproductive and pour tons of blue into our life's glass. The more you think about any issue, focus on it, and talk about it with others, the more blue you are adding to your glass. And the more blue you add to your glass, the less rose-colored your outlook will be.
No matter what is happening in your life, pick up the red dye and squeeze it in the glass. You can add red by counting your blessings, laughing with people, focusing on happy memories, dreaming about a wonderful future, anything that makes you feel good. Think about the good things that happened today, yesterday, last week and will be happening in the future. Practice taking control of your thoughts and you can increase your joy.
Get a large glass container, milk and some red and blue dye. Spend a few days adding milk for neutral experiences and thoughts, red for positive ones and blue for negative ones. See how much more rose colored your glass is when you don't dwell on the negatives and focus on the positives.
Neutral or white thoughts; those are the normal everyday actions that aren’t charged with negative or positive emotions. This is what makes up large chunks of our lives.
Red thoughts are wonderful, positive, cheerful or happy thoughts. If we have mostly neutral or white thoughts mixed with red ones, we will go through life with rose colored glasses.
Blue thoughts are negative, sick, angry, destructive or unhappy ones. When we experience these thoughts or actions, we feel blue. Negative or blue moments add stress and pain to our lives.
All of our glasses of milk start out as shades of white. Then each new experience and thought adds a drop of white, red or blue to the glass. White for neutral experiences, red for positive ones and blue for negative ones. It doesn’t take too many red thoughts and experiences to turn our white milk pink. That’s why most children run around with rose-colored glasses. One tiny drop of red, like an empty box to play with, colors the day pink.
We all have red and blue EXPERIENCES; those drops of life we often can’t control and do color our outlook. However, our THOUGHTS add equally to the milk and we can control those. Remember every second puts another drop into the glass. Let’s say we get cut off in traffic. That experience takes 10 seconds so it only adds a tiny bit of blue into the glass. Now let’s say you rant on and on about the jerk who cut you off. You yell and scream at them and are angry all the way home. Then tell your friend about it on the phone. It takes an hour before you forget about the traffic incident. You have taken what lasted 10 seconds or added 10 drops of blue and turned that into 360 blue drops, number of seconds in an hour. You could have had 10 drops of blue and 350 drops of white or neutral experiences. You could have had a pale blue hour that would easily be tinted by the white and red from the rest of the day to keep you in a dusty rose mood. Instead you have dark blue that is more difficult to tint rose coloed. Remember only 10 of the 360 drops in your glass were out of your control. Take control of those 350 moments and you’ll be a much happier individual.
I've been through a divorce, cancer, going back to school, single parenting, financial insecurity and many other challenges. There were tons of moments that were out of my control, but over and over I’m amazed at how much I let them cloud the parts of the day I did and do have control over. Worry, fear, reflecting back about what others did or didn’t do, these are all nonproductive and pour tons of blue into our life's glass. The more you think about any issue, focus on it, and talk about it with others, the more blue you are adding to your glass. And the more blue you add to your glass, the less rose-colored your outlook will be.
No matter what is happening in your life, pick up the red dye and squeeze it in the glass. You can add red by counting your blessings, laughing with people, focusing on happy memories, dreaming about a wonderful future, anything that makes you feel good. Think about the good things that happened today, yesterday, last week and will be happening in the future. Practice taking control of your thoughts and you can increase your joy.
Get a large glass container, milk and some red and blue dye. Spend a few days adding milk for neutral experiences and thoughts, red for positive ones and blue for negative ones. See how much more rose colored your glass is when you don't dwell on the negatives and focus on the positives.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Max
This has been a sad week. I put my dog to sleep on Saturday. He was old and it was time, but I’m still grieving. I’ve been reflecting on how much Max or as I often called him, Poochy, added to my family’s lives. For the most part, Max was my dog. He slept in my room, I walked him, and he followed me around. He was a 65 pound lab chow mix and made me feel safer in the house by myself.
Max had all the humans so well trained. Whenever I brushed my teeth, he barked until he got a treat. He was Pavlov's dog drooling at the site of my toothbrush. However, I was equally trained and produced his chicken treat each time he barked. So he learned to bark whenever the water ran in that sink. Translation: when in the master bath, if I didn't want to be barked at, I had to go down the hall and use the kids’ bathroom to wash my hands. Okay, now how ridiculous is that? To appease my dog, I went to a different bathroom to wash my hands. As I write this, I realize I don't sound too bright.
The kids and I were also trained doormen; opening and closing the back door on demand. We were “terrible” pet owners and slipped food under the table when Max begged. I would often purchase special bones at the meat counter just for Max. In theory, the dog didn't get on the furniture. That was the theory. Whenever I left, Max immediately got on the couch. I also have fond memories of him crawling on all four paws for her royal snottiness, my cat Snowball. I cat never deigned to interact with the dog, but he consistently tried. I have so many fond memories of Max. Yesterday I started down the hall to wash my hands before catching myself. Instead of wallowing in my grief, I’m choosing to count the joy and blessings Poochy provided us over the years.
Max had all the humans so well trained. Whenever I brushed my teeth, he barked until he got a treat. He was Pavlov's dog drooling at the site of my toothbrush. However, I was equally trained and produced his chicken treat each time he barked. So he learned to bark whenever the water ran in that sink. Translation: when in the master bath, if I didn't want to be barked at, I had to go down the hall and use the kids’ bathroom to wash my hands. Okay, now how ridiculous is that? To appease my dog, I went to a different bathroom to wash my hands. As I write this, I realize I don't sound too bright.
The kids and I were also trained doormen; opening and closing the back door on demand. We were “terrible” pet owners and slipped food under the table when Max begged. I would often purchase special bones at the meat counter just for Max. In theory, the dog didn't get on the furniture. That was the theory. Whenever I left, Max immediately got on the couch. I also have fond memories of him crawling on all four paws for her royal snottiness, my cat Snowball. I cat never deigned to interact with the dog, but he consistently tried. I have so many fond memories of Max. Yesterday I started down the hall to wash my hands before catching myself. Instead of wallowing in my grief, I’m choosing to count the joy and blessings Poochy provided us over the years.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Measuring Success
How we decide to measure success is a huge factor in determining if we feel good about ourselves. I had surgery on Sept 30, 2009. Once I was semi recovered, I started exercising again. My goal was to do something every other day, which I hadn’t been doing before. Not an hour every other day, just something. I wanted to establish the habit of getting up and exercising regularly. I read it can take 60 days for a habit to be ingrained. My ultimate goal is to do 30 minutes of aerobic exercise three days a week and yoga class on the weekends. I started out slow and it has been slow going ever since. Unfortunately, I have been unable to build up much speed or endurance on the treadmill. I keep getting leg cramps and am either forced to slow down or stop and stretch. It those don’t work, I spend my workout time with a massage ball working the Charlie horses out of my calves and thighs.
Last fall, just before surgery, the pharmacy informed me my thyroid medication had been discontinued. I was required to try a new medication. Last week I had a follow up blood test for the new medication. The nurse called saying my TSH level should be 4 or below and mine was above 32. The exhaustion and muscle cramps I was blaming on menopause has been caused by my thyroid levels being way off.
Even before I had that eye opening bit of news, I had been feeling successful about my exercise regiment. Not because I was doing what I’d hope, but because I was tracking and celebrating my successes. I am amazed at how often we track to feel like a failure. Since I started tracking, I was writing on my calendar how many minutes and the maximum speed I achieved on the treadmill. At the end of the month, I chose to measure success based ONLY on the number of days I did something. In October, 10 out of 31 days or 32% of the days I exercised; in November 19 of 31 days or 63%; and in December 17 of 31 days or 55% of the days I exercised. I pitched my 2009 calendar and carried over only the days I worked out. When I look back, I see success and that keeps me continuing forward.
This month I have been on the treadmill six times. Only once did I make it the 30 minutes. One day I only made it 7 minutes. If I focus on that, I would feel like a failure. Instead, I’m proud of myself for getting up 12 out of 17 days so far in January. No one wants to continue to feel like a failure. If I had been looking at my 7 minute days, I would have quit. Because I only counted the number of days I tried, I felt successful. Feeling successful makes us feel good and we continue things that make us feel good. To build your self esteem, build on your successes and that will bring you greater joy.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
Last fall, just before surgery, the pharmacy informed me my thyroid medication had been discontinued. I was required to try a new medication. Last week I had a follow up blood test for the new medication. The nurse called saying my TSH level should be 4 or below and mine was above 32. The exhaustion and muscle cramps I was blaming on menopause has been caused by my thyroid levels being way off.
Even before I had that eye opening bit of news, I had been feeling successful about my exercise regiment. Not because I was doing what I’d hope, but because I was tracking and celebrating my successes. I am amazed at how often we track to feel like a failure. Since I started tracking, I was writing on my calendar how many minutes and the maximum speed I achieved on the treadmill. At the end of the month, I chose to measure success based ONLY on the number of days I did something. In October, 10 out of 31 days or 32% of the days I exercised; in November 19 of 31 days or 63%; and in December 17 of 31 days or 55% of the days I exercised. I pitched my 2009 calendar and carried over only the days I worked out. When I look back, I see success and that keeps me continuing forward.
This month I have been on the treadmill six times. Only once did I make it the 30 minutes. One day I only made it 7 minutes. If I focus on that, I would feel like a failure. Instead, I’m proud of myself for getting up 12 out of 17 days so far in January. No one wants to continue to feel like a failure. If I had been looking at my 7 minute days, I would have quit. Because I only counted the number of days I tried, I felt successful. Feeling successful makes us feel good and we continue things that make us feel good. To build your self esteem, build on your successes and that will bring you greater joy.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
Thursday, January 14, 2010
No Daily Blogging for Me
I will not be blogging daily. I often do not have the time. I will sometimes catch up on the weekends. I don't have to blog every day. There is no reason why I need to put that stress on myself. To my knowledge there is no blog god out there ready to ZAP me if I don't write daily.
One of the secrets of being happy and positive is not putting extra pressure on ourselves. I'm amazed at how often we do this. Give yourself permission not to do everything and do lots of things less than perfectly. Good enough is often perfect if it keeps you calm and peaceful instead of pushed and stressed. I assure you, your family and friends would rather have you relaxed than everything perfect.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
One of the secrets of being happy and positive is not putting extra pressure on ourselves. I'm amazed at how often we do this. Give yourself permission not to do everything and do lots of things less than perfectly. Good enough is often perfect if it keeps you calm and peaceful instead of pushed and stressed. I assure you, your family and friends would rather have you relaxed than everything perfect.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
Monday, January 11, 2010
DMV
Ahh Mondays, you gotta love 'em. Today I woke up eager to begin blogging. Apparently fate decided I needed plenty to write about. I have a new voice recognition program. My plan was to walk on the treadmill and dictate my blog. Except the dictation program that worked perfectly on Sunday, decided not to work on Monday. I ended up with an exercise in futility, dictating nothing and doing only doing 15 minutes on the treadmill. So I started today with two choices. I could be proud of myself for doing 15 minutes of walking and give myself an E for effort or be upset that I didn't have time for thirty.
The highlight of the day was dealing with the DMV. Unbeknownst to me, my saga started in 2006. On another freezing cold day, in February of 2006, our old Windstar die a slow and painful death after years of faithful service. My car taxes were due in July of 2006. At that point, I informed the DMV I no longer owned the Windstar. In theory, I pay taxes and fees on the Concorde I did own. I put the sticker on my license plate like a good little tax-paying citizen. I drove blissfully along for another year and again renewed my tags. In 2008, I was pulled over by an officer stating he had run my plates and it appeared I had stolen my tags. I had to take a half day off work and prove I'd paid for the tags on the Concorde. At that time, I was assured there was a glitch in the computer and everything had been fixed.
Fast forward to December 2008, My son, Will, got stopped twice right before Christmas for not having current tags. Last week I called state and spent about 30 minutes having them research my problem. The clerk told me, she could see I had paid the taxes for the Concorde, but the county had issued the tags since 2006 on the old license for the Windstar. I asked if she could just mail me the corrected registration and tags. She informed me they had to be picked up in person at the DMV. I gave Will a notarized letter stating he could act as my power of attorney at the DMV. And thank goodness I did. Because then he got to spend three hours in the DMV and I only had to spend an hour on the phone. Let's face it, kid time is more expendable than adult time.
The long and short of it is Will had to give the DMV almost $300 and after more time on the phone I will get a refund for all but about $75. I think most of us can relate to bureaucratic frustrations. But this is where choice comes in. In the great scheme of things, a few hours spent dealing with the DMV isn't a big deal. And that's what I choose to focus on. When I got off the phone, I just wanted to cry. $75 is still $75 when money is tight. I spent about 10 minutes calming myself down and remembering to put the $75 in perspective. I reminded myself to be thankful that at least the gentleman at the DMV didn't charge me a penalty for my late "taxes" and was willing to issue the partial refund. I believe those are the keys to put things in perspective; focus on what went right and remember the long term. Minor frustrations only ruin my whole day if I let them.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
The highlight of the day was dealing with the DMV. Unbeknownst to me, my saga started in 2006. On another freezing cold day, in February of 2006, our old Windstar die a slow and painful death after years of faithful service. My car taxes were due in July of 2006. At that point, I informed the DMV I no longer owned the Windstar. In theory, I pay taxes and fees on the Concorde I did own. I put the sticker on my license plate like a good little tax-paying citizen. I drove blissfully along for another year and again renewed my tags. In 2008, I was pulled over by an officer stating he had run my plates and it appeared I had stolen my tags. I had to take a half day off work and prove I'd paid for the tags on the Concorde. At that time, I was assured there was a glitch in the computer and everything had been fixed.
Fast forward to December 2008, My son, Will, got stopped twice right before Christmas for not having current tags. Last week I called state and spent about 30 minutes having them research my problem. The clerk told me, she could see I had paid the taxes for the Concorde, but the county had issued the tags since 2006 on the old license for the Windstar. I asked if she could just mail me the corrected registration and tags. She informed me they had to be picked up in person at the DMV. I gave Will a notarized letter stating he could act as my power of attorney at the DMV. And thank goodness I did. Because then he got to spend three hours in the DMV and I only had to spend an hour on the phone. Let's face it, kid time is more expendable than adult time.
The long and short of it is Will had to give the DMV almost $300 and after more time on the phone I will get a refund for all but about $75. I think most of us can relate to bureaucratic frustrations. But this is where choice comes in. In the great scheme of things, a few hours spent dealing with the DMV isn't a big deal. And that's what I choose to focus on. When I got off the phone, I just wanted to cry. $75 is still $75 when money is tight. I spent about 10 minutes calming myself down and remembering to put the $75 in perspective. I reminded myself to be thankful that at least the gentleman at the DMV didn't charge me a penalty for my late "taxes" and was willing to issue the partial refund. I believe those are the keys to put things in perspective; focus on what went right and remember the long term. Minor frustrations only ruin my whole day if I let them.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Day 1
Today I am posting my first blog about using humor and a positive attitude to face life's ongoing challenges. I have struggled through being bald from cancer; the joys and trials of single parenting; working full-time while going back to school; financial frustrations; a messy divorce; and worst of all, the horrors of dating. I am amazed at how often minor irritations; past history; and worrying all negatively affect the quality of my life. The number one lesson I’ve learned is being positive isn't something I obtain and then have. Having a positive attitude is a day to day, moment to moment, choice. Like a pro athlete, I have to constantly train my thoughts to remain positive. And like the athlete, I have to accept that I will have bad days, injuries, and setbacks. The only way I can fail, is to quit. I am constantly reminding myself to focus on my blessings and keep perspective on my challenges. I have written a book, Operation Attitude, and speak on this topic. My goal is to help both myself and you the reader to remain upbeat and positive. I hope you can laugh with me as I slip and slide over one banana peels of life.
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
My book Operation Attitude is available at: http://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/ItemDetail.aspx?bookid=62520
Or check out my webpage at: www.HumorFightingCancer.com
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