When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.
Ernest Hemingway (1899 - 1961)



I have a big mouth.

I talk too much. I've always suspected it. Sometimes felt self-conscious about it. Now have proof that it's true. I am surpriesd I have any friends. Hell, I am surprised I am married.

I bought a little handheld voice recorder for interviews. My job is to ask the questions. That's it. But I find it is downright PAINFUL to listen to the recorded interviews (when transcripting to paper). I am sick of hearing my own voice. Worse yet, I bet the interviewee is sick of hearing my voice. YIKES. And I say 'Oh, Yeah' a lot. Not really valley girl, but more like that lady cop voice from the movie 'Fargo'. All nasely and uber-Canadian.



When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.
Ernest Hemingway (1899 - 1961)



I am going to go out on a limb and say it verges on annoying. (Fight the urge to reassure me that it isn't true, people)

We've all had the experience. Participating in a conversation with one person or a small group of people, where one person dominates the conversation. You know... The super loud, over bearing, highly opinionated, self-righteous meathead you fanticize about saying 'shut up' to...

It's me. (*sniff)

Definition of Self-discovery: The act or process of achieving understanding or knowledge of oneself. The problem with self-discovery is that it is one of those things that is only useful if you plan on using the new knowledge constructively.

Example:
I talk too much.
I will try to talk less.
I won't speak out of turn (HA.
I will voice my opinion only when asked. (Yeah, right.)
I will become a someone who is seen and not heard. AAAAAAAAAHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA
(You have to know me to appreciate that roaring laughter fully



Listen. Do not have an opinion while you listen because frankly, your opinion doesn't hold much water outside of Your Universe. Just listen. Listen until their brain has been twisted like a dripping towel and what they have to say is all over the floor. Hugh Elliott, Standing Room Only weblog, 02-14-2003



I remember being a young girl, maybe 8 or 9, and visiting with my Great Gramma Mimi. We'd go to visit her and I'd hang on the arms of her big blue easy chair and talk with her. She had the puffiest little old lady feet, and carried her black heavy purse, that had a brass clasp, everywhere (even while sitting in the living room). And I can remember the way she smelled. A good, powdery Gramma smell. She used the milky pink face powder in the little brown compact.

Anyways, she told me this story about when I was born. She told me that I was one of the very few brand new babies that her husband, my Great Grandpa Willard, had ever seen. She said that after he saw me, only hours old (maybe a few days) he told her, "one day you're gonna hear from that girl." I don't remember ever knowing him, he died after I turned one.

That's the whole story I remember. I didn't even know what he meant. Maybe I just cried a lot! I just remember thinking that I had a reputation to live up to. Funny that I would be able to associate the story to the self-discovery. Amazing how little things shape who we become.

I have always remembered that. And I remember thinking that it meant he could see something in me that I couldn't. But you have to know the direction my life has gone. I've always been completely satisfied to be in the public eye. I am an entertainer by nature. I will say just about anything for a laugh. I am a singer. Now I write. And share my opinions with others. Could it be more appropos?

I am committed to talking less, and listening more.



A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but after a while he gets to know something.
Wilson Mizner (1876 - 1933)



My husband is going to laugh his ASS off when he reads this.

Lucie Konnik is a wife, mother of four and grandmother. I don't know how old she is, but I would guess between 55 - 65. She looks good. It's tough to make a judgement on her age. She has golden hair, almost the color of wheat. Laughing eyes. She's tall and strong and has a brilliant sense of humour. She is also a wonderful story-teller. She is positive. Complimentary. Kind. And proud of her family and her life. She came to Canada from Holland many years ago, but has a thick accent (she might laugh at that - I think its thick).

Lucie called me yesterday morning before eight o'clock. She didn't get me on the line and left a voice-mail message. Something along the lines of, "I woke up this morning and went for my walk, and suddenly my story, my breast cancer story, was there to tell. So I rushed home and began writing, and it just flowed out of me onto paper. I hope you might be able to take it and use it in October's issue."

October's issue is already at the printer. It will be ready in a few days. I called her back.

"Lucie, we're too late to include it, but could I still take it and keep it until next year, for the next breast cancer issue?" Yes, she agreed that would be fine, but needed to re-write it so that it was fit for me to read.

About 4:30pm my phone rang again, only I was in the grocery store, so I turned the ringer off and let the message pick it up. When I checked it only a few minutes later, it was Lucie.

"Kim, I've re-written the story, but if you don't come get it tonight, I may not give it to you." She didn't need to explain that to me. I 'got' the need to hand it over to someone else right away or she might change her mind and stow it away somewhere instead. Hide it from others eyes. Or worse, destroy it.

I called her right back. "I am just leaving the parking lot of the grocery store... I will be to your house in five minutes."

She handed me a sealed envelope. We chatted in the sunshine for a couple of minutes, shared a laugh or two and talked about the importance of me taking her story. She was grateful. Maybe even relieved.

October's magazine has a huge feature on breast cancer. I am sorry Lucie's story didn't make it into the issue, so I decided to place it here, for many to read.

MAMMOGRAM
Lucie-Konnik

Nothing to it.
Done it many times before.
I laugh, breast cancer is not in my family.
After it is done, I wait for the results.
Now I am told, that I have to go back.
Another screening.
Waiting again, what is going on?
We have to do an ultrasound, they say.
Are you kidding me?
There is no breast cancer in my family.
Machines, needles, doctors appointments.
My life's a mess.
This is not happening.
Decisions have to be made.
I feel so lonely, so helpless.
What is the right decision?
Nobody seems to know.
Surgery has to be done.
The doctor is wonderful, she feels like a friend.
I need this compassion so desperately.
Everything is done now.
Healing process is to start.
It feels so strange.
I cannot take it all in.
Flowers. Cards. Comfort.
Love from family and friends.
Still my brain is not getting used to it.
It is telling me it is just surgery.
Slowly I come back to reality.
My breast is gone. There is a scar there.
I look at it.
Someday's I smile, I cry, I scream with anger.
How dare this stupid thing insdie my breast take over my life?
Grateful, I survived all this.
Thankful for all the wonderful people.
Doctors, nurses, homecare, family, friends.
Months later.
Sometimes still angry, scared, questions,
Will it come back?
I have learned so much about myself.
In a strange way, I learned that cancer can be a blessing.
I am a woman, strong and ready for the future.
Today is today. Nothing else counts.
(copyright 2007 Lucie-Konnik)

A YEAR AFTER SURGERY
Lucie-Konnik

Waiting room.
Women sitting in a row.
Television going, everyone staring without taking it in.
My name is called.
Going to that dreadful room.
Undressing, not saying much.
'It is a bit uncomfortable,' she says.
Machine presses my breast.
'You can go now,' she says.
Back to the waiting room I go.
Staring into space, mind going crazy.
'You can leave,' she says.
I jump up, and want to scream!
I am free to go!
'You come back now,' she says, 'In a year.'
A year. A wonderful year.
Back to my house, husband, children, grandchildren.
Full with daily problems.
But I am back to live.
In a year, she said.
You have to come back.
I take it.
I feel like a butterfly.
(copyright 2007 Lucie-Konnik)


My love to you, Lucie.

(Sent to me this morning from Mac Anderson's Simple Truths Newsletter)

Dear Kim,

Now, if I were to tell you to really succeed in life you’ll need to get a second job, you’d probably say... “Mac has lost it!” But that’s exactly what I’m saying, but....it’s a little different than you might expect.

Please enjoy one of my 28 “lessons learned” from... You Can’t Send a Duck to Eagle School.

To Life,

Mac Anderson
Founder, Simple Truths


*Get a Second Job
(Excerpt from You Can’t Send a Duck to Eagle School)


You may have heard the quote...“The speed of the leader will determine the rate of the pack.” Well here’s another one for you...“The attitude of the leader will determine the attitude of the pack.”

Because I’m the founder of Successories ®, some people think that this guy probably never has a negative thought. How wrong they would be! Like every human being, I have doubts, fears, and disappointments in my life. As a leader, however, we must manage our attitudes. Do we need to be perfect? Of course not. But, we can never underestimate the influence that our actions and our attitudes will have on our team. Churchill said,

“The price of LEADERSHIP is RESPONSIBILITY.”

...and part of that responsibility is to STAY POSITIVE whether you feel like it or not.

MANAGING YOUR ATTITUDE IS A VERY PERSONAL THING. However, for me, one of the most important factors is exercise. My attitude and my energy levels are directly tied to exercise. I can be doing everything else right, but without regular exercise I can feel my attitude “heading south”.

I’ve got a friend who is 65 but looks like he’s 55. I saw him the other day and said, “Tony, you look great.” He said, “I feel great! I got a second job.” I said, “A second job?

"I thought your import business was doing well.” He said, “It is. My second job is on the treadmill from 6-7 every morning. When I started looking at it as a second job, I showed up whether I wanted to or not!” He said, “The pay is lousy, but the benefits to my health and my attitude are priceless!”

Exercise, more than anything, is a “stress buster”. And, don’t kid yourself, stress is a killer. In fact the World Health Organization estimates that 80% of all illnesses are directly or indirectly caused by stress. Therefore, if you’re not proactive in busting stress, it’s very likely to come back and bust you!


You Can't Send a Duck to Eagle School
Hardcover, 126 pages, 6.75" square
By Mac Anderson

Best Selling Author, Mac Anderson, shares 30 years of "lessons learned" as a successful entrepreneur. And he presents these "nuggets" in a way you'll never forget.

This great little book has 28 chapters, and listed below is just a sampling:

• Change is Good... You Go First
• Burning Brightly Without Burning Out
• The Road to Success is Not Always a Road
• Make Your Brand Stand for Something
• Forget Real Good... Remember Feel Good
• Attitude isn't Everything, but it's Pretty Darn Close
• If You Chase Two Rabbits, Both Will Escape
• Leadership Would be Easy if it Wasn't for People

The article above was excerpted from the book "You Can't Send A Duck To Eagle School" by Mac Anderson. It is reprinted here with permission. You may share this story as long as you do not edit the content; leave the links and this resource box intact. www.SimpleTruths.com



I LOVE IT WHEN THIS HAPPENS FOR ME. I'm ready to give it another go.
Sorry for the crappy attitude break... I'll try not to let it happen again.
Keep truckin' sistah.

I am miserable with myself.

Between yesterday and today (brunch at mom's and the leftovers for lunch today) I've eaten five gigantic pieces of carrot cake with cream cheese icing.

I haven't went running since Sunday (last - this means its day 8 - no exercise) which means I am pulling my own hair out. Literally. My chin has a blind zit that feels like a pin is poking me when I touch it (and isn't that just like a blind zit... it begs... squeeze the hell out of me... oh look at the pretty red dot that takes ten days to disappear)

Sugar and lack of exercise. Who knew? That is my fatal combination. Mentally, I mean.

You want to see me crash and burn out? Give me tons of sugar and very little water and zero exercise. It's like my brain totally closes up shop and leaves town on vacation.

I am moody, exhausted, irritable, negative, anxious, worrysome, headachy. Zitty.

So I am off to bed, determined to start fresh tomorrow.

What makes me so weak? When I know what brings me down, what makes me sick and tired... why do I even go there? Is it that I am human? Is it that I am simply weak? For months now, as in over a year now, I have been diligent about getting plenty of exercise and eating right. I have felt as though I am on cloud nine physically. Tip top shape.

Until the last two months. Slowly but surely, I can feel myself weakening. Summer started it. Less routine, more holiday food. Less exercise, more lethargy. More sugar. Less vegetables.

And here I am. Pudgy. Puffy. Stiff neck. Sore throat. Droopy eyes. Tired mind.

Why do I let myself backslide? I abhor that about me. (Geez Kim, why don't you just kick the crap out of yourself when you're down

It irritates me that tomorrow I must start again. From the beginning. Cause I'll have to start slow and pick up speed (running) and I'll have to wean myself off the sugar (I swear it's an addiction - and I've fallen off the wagon) and it will take weeks before my pants fit better.

Let's hope my mood perks up in a couple of days. I can hardly stand myself.

That's it. I am a total psychopath.

I feel like a slipped off the very fine parenting tightwire I was walking this morning and plummetted to an ill-behaved, gruesome death of my rationale. I waved and shook my arms and hands over my head. I am pretty sure my head spun around once or twice. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I may have even barked. At the very least, growled low in my throat.

What brought it on?

(sung to the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas)
Six days left til dad is home...
Five hours of sleep!
Four cranky kids,
three mornings of back-to-school,
second day of my period,
a-and wuh-uh-uhne b-i-itchy moooom.

'I don't want to wear pants or long sleeves today.'
'I want to wear the capri pants I wore yesterday and the day before.'
'I don't want to brush my teeth.'
'I don't like these socks, they make my toes feel funny.'
'I don't like turkey or ham sandwiches. (IT IS DAY 3 OF 200 SCHOOL DAYS)
'I don't want my hair in a ponytail.'
'I need you to sign these eleven permission slips.' (Why didn't you ask me last night, when you were in a lump on the couch, instead of this morning, huffing and puffing because you want to leave right NOW
'I need you to pay my $253 in school fees before they give me any of my text books.'
'I need $20 right now for my CTS fees.'
'My sweater is NOT on inside out.'

I am a complete failure. Okay - I FEEL like a failure today.

Nothing wrecks my day faster than beginning my day by feeling frustrated and irritated with my children.

I can't imagine it sets their day off right either.

"Yippee! It's my first day of Kindergarten! Mom just ripped my big brother a new one, made my seven year old sister cry and tore out 327 of my cute little blond hairs while making an impatient pony-tail! Woo-hoo. I'm the luckiest kid in the world!!"

It is just one of those days.

We're ALL over-tired. Starting back to classes is stressful and exhausting, for everyone. Meeting teachers, finding friends and where you belong. New expectations and routines. Internal 'summer holiday' clocks are still keeping kids up at night, and early morning alarm clocks are screeching at them to get out of bed.

Then mom screeches at them until they leave the house.

'Come on, get up, it's 7:10.'
'No, you can't go barefoot in school.'
'But you have to wear your hair out of your eyes, you won't be able to see the board.'
'I can't send peanut butter to school.'
'You need something in your lunch besides snacks.'
'What are you going to take for a drink?'
'Did you take your medicine this morning?'
'The sheets I signed are already in your backpack.'
'I don't care if you are meeting Chelsey at 7:55, take a minute to gather a decent lunch.'
'I will stop in and pay your fees this morning.'
'Did you eat chocolate mini muffins for breakfast? Oh, that's the way for your body to function at its best...'
'Please hurry and eat your cereal.'
'Come get your hair combed.'
'Go brush your teeth.'
'Make sure your lights are off downstairs.'
'For the sixth time, GET YOUR SHOES ON and WAIT AT THE DOOR!'

While all are harmless enough questions, as a reader, be grateful you didn't get them YELLED at you by Sargeant Slaughter this morning.

MOVE YOUR ASS, SOLDIER.
QUIT YER CRYING - GO! GO! GO!
DO YOU HEAR WHAT I AM TELLING YOU?! I SAID YER MOMMA LOVES YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY!
AND DON"T YOU FORGET IT.

Not too mention you don't get the full effect of furrowed eyebrows and scowl on my face. And the huffs and puffs.

So the rest of my work day will go something like this:

Re-hash the entire morning over and over in my head on high volume with intense visual.
Repeatedly tell myself what a horrible mother I am and binge on the chocolate mini muffins in the cupboard.
Work and feel sorry for myself.
Work and feel sorry for my kids.


We're all only human. They're tired. I'm tired. When they get home after school, I will ask about their day and we'll hug and have a snuggle. I'll apologize for starting the day off so wrong and ask for better cooperation to make the mornings go smoother. They'll try harder for the rest of the day to get their chores done and help clean up the dishes. We'll plan to make lunches the night before, and plan to pick out our clothes so we're ready to go. We'll all fall into bed tonight needing 11 hours of uninterrupted dreamland.

And tomorrow morning, with good intentions, we'll all try to get it right.
Well, at least for the first seven minutes of the day.