Munchkins

6:25 AM

Full day ahead.

(Moving branches, spraying for apple cedar rust, meeting with two potential customers, table building, and who knows what else…

I just stumbled across this  short clip (again) and it set a good tone for the  day.

Especially his story about the munchkins and their little flippers.

You’ll have to excuse me.

Still need to make my bed. 😉 DM

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Speak Life

Quick story from this morning….

Number one son and I were in Muscatine the last couple of days doing repairs on a turn of the century house.  Place had been converted into a group home and was in need of some TLC.   First thing that struck me when we got to the job was the  neighborhood.  Lots of large older homes, that in their day would have been something to see.  Second thing that struck me was the couple next door. The two of them, ( I’m guessing, mid 70’s) were hard at it.  She had a dew-rag on her head, and he had one of those floppy safari hats.   Their house sat back further from the street than the rest of the houses on the block and it  (the house) looked like it could be on the cover of a magazine.  A part of me wanted to tell them how nice their place looked, but I didn’t want to come across as some nut-case, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

This morning on the way back to Muscatine, the guy on the radio was talking about the power of our words.  Our words have the power to  build up, and tear down, and to look for opportunities to encourage.

So, that little thought was rolling around in my head  as I was finishing up.  I spotted the neighbor lady bringing a garbage can out to the street, so I thought, what the heck. I told her good morning.   Then I told her  how much I had admired the way they kept their place up.  She in turn complimented me on how nice the newly painted front and back porch looked on the house we were working on.  We  talked for 30 seconds, but that’s all it took.

That little ditty they taught you when you were a kid about “sticks and stones can break your bones, but word can never harm you.”

That’s a bunch of BS.  (BS stands for Bad Stuff in German.)

I have a  friend who will occasionally say to me “Speak life.” 

I like it.

I think it’s a spin off from the phrase “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.”

Do I do this perfectly?  Nada.

Especially at home.

Well, I better call it a day. Later! DM

 

 

The Man from the lobby

I had an hour to kill.

Decided to sit in the hotel lobby and people watch.  I was in town to give another presentation of a book I had gotten published the year before.

Then I saw him.   A man who had attended a previous presentation I had given 6 months before.  Felt a low-grade panic settle in my gut.  All I knew about the man was he too was an author.  Pretty sure he was a college professor.  My biggest concern was a good portion of my presentation would be similar to the one he had heard 6 months before.

Dang.

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I’m one of those people who when faced with a fear, 9 times out of 10 I will got after it head on, rather than stew.   I decided to head to the conference room early and re-introduce myself to the man from the  lobby.

He wasn’t hard to find.  He was sitting close to the front, right behind my table.  I walked up to him, and said I remembered him from before.  He instantly lit up. I put one knee down on the carpet, next to the table, and confessed to him, much of what he would hear  this afternoon was probably going to sound familiar.  I’ll never forget what he told me.

” You need to make sure you tell the story you told before, the one about the feedback you’d received on your rough draft. Bill So and So and I talked about that after your presentation.  That was so powerful.”

I looked him in the eyes, and thanked him profusely…for you see, the last time I had given my presentation, I had vented to the assembled.  I had gotten off my notes and shared some behind the scene angst on the writing of my book.  I questioned the wisdom of doing that at the time.  Come to find out, this seasoned author, this man from the lobby,  had been touched by that story, as much, if not more, than by my book.

We never know, do we.

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If you’re a long time reader, you may remember.  I’d written the introduction and first chapter to a book.  Shared it with someone I used to get together with on a regular basis, who had had several things published and seems to know what he was talking about when giving feedback.  Well, his feedback, while well meaning, was brutal.  I ended up second guessing myself to the point, the book project was shelved from 2008 until 2015…

7 years.

Then after 7 years, I still had this book rumbling around in my head.  The internal pressure began to build.  Those of you that have to write know what I’m talking about.

I had to get it out.

Even if it didn’t  measure up.

So in 2015 I wrote  the rough draft.

Then in 2016 I got it published.

 

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Here is an excerpt from my favorite writing mentor Brenda Ueland from her book If You Want To Write:

“How does the creative impulse die in us?  The English teacher who wrote fiercely on the margin of your theme in blue pencil: “Trite, rewrite, helped to kill it.  Critics kill it, your family.  Families are great murderers of the creative impulse, particularly husbands. Older brothers sneer at younger brothers and kill it.  There is that American pastime known as “Kidding” – with the result that everyone is ashamed and hangdog about showing the slightest enthusiasm or passion or sincere feeling about anything….

You have noticed how teachers, critics, parents, and other know-it-alls, when they see you have written something, become at once long-nosed and finicking and go through it gingerly sniffing out the flaws. AHA! a misspelled word! as though Shakespeare could spell! As though spelling, grammar and what you learn in a book about rhetoric has anything to do with freedom and imagination….

And so no wonder you don’t write and put it off month after month, decade after decade.  For when you write, if it is to be any good at all, you must feel free, free and not anxious.  The only good teachers for you are those friends who love you, who think you are interesting, or very important, or wonderfully funny; whose attitude is: Tell me more.  Tell me all you can.  I want to understand more about everything you feel and know….Let more come out….

Yes, I hate orthodox criticism.  I don’t mean great criticism, like that of Matthew Arnold and others, but the usual small niggling, fussy-mussy criticism, which thinks it can improve people by telling them when they are wrong, and results only in putting them in straitjackets of hesitancy and self-consciousness, and weazening all vision and bravery.

I hate it not so much for my own account, for I have learned at last not to let it balk me.  But I hate it because of the potentially shining, gentle, gifted people of all ages that it snuffs out every year.  It is a murderer of talent.  And because the most modest and sensitive people are the most talented, having the most imagination and sympathy, these are the very first to get killed off.  It is the brutal egotist that survive…

…. and so now you will begin to work on your writing.  Remember these things. …Work with all your intelligence and love.  Work freely and rollickingly as though you were talking to a friend who loves you.   Mentally (at least three or four times a day) thumb your nose at all know-it-alls, jeerers, critics, doubters…”

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Well, time to get to work.  🙂 Later! DM

 

Assertiveness Training

Wanted to share with you the latest 16 second assertiveness training exercise I came across.

Watch it daily, preferably  several times a day until it begins to seep into the soft tissue of your brain.

Don’t argue with me, just do it. 😉

For me, watching someone role model a behavior sticks better than just reading it out of a book…

Would love to hear your stories about standing your ground in the face of overwhelming odds.

Here’s that clip:

I know you probably think I am joking, but I am  not.

Have a good weekend! DM

Jitters

I found myself sitting at the head table this past Sunday afternoon with an executive director and her staff, for a 50th anniversary celebration.  I had been invited to do a 30 minute presentation as part of their program.

As I was working on my salad, I  heard the snippet of a conversation, between the director and one of the staff…

“You’ll do fine! A little nervousness is normal.”

Since the director and I were in the same boat, (both experiencing “pre-presentation” jitters) I joined the conversation.

A little background….

I am not one of those people who loves the limelight.  Just the opposite.  I prefer the back row.  (That way I can quietly slip out if I need to use the little boys’ room.)

I’ve mentioned portions of my  story before  but when I was  22, I realized   shyness  low self-esteem was hamstringing my life on multiple fronts.

 I was sick and tired of it.

On a  lark I stopped by the office of a friend who also happened to be a nun trained in social work.  (She seemed like a safe person.)

I looked across the desk,  told her my story and said, “Can you help me?  Do you have any suggestions?”

(She did.)

And over the course of time, (we’re talking months/ not 30 minutes)  little by little,  large chunks of my inner crap  began to be dealt with.

No  Kristina I have not arrived. 😉

I have lost track of the number of times now I have spoken in public, in various settings…at least a couple of hundred.  To this day however, I still experience  jitters every time.

There are lots of helpful books, articles, courses, etc. on public speaking, dealing with anxiety in front of a crowd, low self-esteem, yada, yada,  so rather than just regurgitate  10 suggestions you can pick up in a workshop, I wanted to give you a glimpse into what was going on in little old me this past Sunday afternoon.

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Two  images were playing nonstop  on the  screen of my mind…

The first clip was an Olympic wrestler I saw several years ago on TV.  As the camera man panned the event, he stopped on a wrestler, sprawled out on his back, taking a nap.  I can still remember the commentator talking about it.  In just a few minutes, this wrestler was going to be center  stage vying for an Olympic metal, and yet there he was, asleep.  He was in the zone.  He had tuned out all of the distractions and found his happy place (my words now/ not the TV commentator.) 😉

SO..whenever I find myself in the final  hours leading up to something that is giving me jitters, I think of that wrestler.

The second thing playing on the screen was even more powerful….and this one wasn’t “playing” as much as it just was….

The tiger that lives inside of me

photo compliments of google

I sensed this tiger pacing back and forth.  Last Sunday was the most pronounced I’ve ever felt it.  It was like he was pacing back and forth in my mind. Ever few minutes  he would shove his shoulder against the door of the cage to see if it was still locked.

He wanted out.

I rarely give a presentation on anything unless I’m feeling passionate about the subject.

So Sunday afternoon, after an introduction, I got out of my seat, walked up to the podium….

and out jumped the tiger.

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They say speaking in public is a common fear. Do you have it? Have you done it ? (spoke in public) Tell me about it.

 

 

 

 

I’m not sure it is worth noting….but I then again, I think it is. :-)

I needed to stop yesterday morning for fuel before heading out-of-town to install some laminate flooring. Typical small town mom and pop convenience store during early morning  rush.  People in a hurry.   Grabbing a few lottery tickets, a pack of smokes…..fuel…. the regulars…and then there was me.

There was a momentary break in the flow of customers.  Two girls working behind the counter.  One stepped into the kitchen area to do something…the second young lady…well, I was struck by two things she did.

First..she was humming a song.

Secondly..she sort of skipped/ (danced?) over to the cash register to ring me up.

It wasn’t contrived.

You could feel her cheerful energy even before acknowledging me as her next customer.

It was refreshing.  Encounter someone with a little splash of  (not sure what to call it?).

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We were out-of-town last weekend.  Took a road trip to visit daughter # three and help re-roof her house.  While I was up on the roof, doing some bonding and having quality time with my son-in-law and a few of his friends,  Mrs DM headed up town to do some retail therapy with our daughter.   One of their stops was a place called the “Weigh and Pay”   I’ve never been there.  Discount/ second-hand store kind of place.  One of my daughter’s favorite places to find a bargain.  Daughter was laughing and bantering with  the cashier, who obviously knew daughter.  Wife was next in line,  Wife quietly leans in and whispers to the cashier, “She is my sunshine.”

Clerk (large African-American woman) cracks a big smile, and  tells my wife…“I know what you mean!   I just love her spirit!”

(If you’re a long time reader, you have heard me brag about this daughter before. When she worked @ the local Subway, people would come in and request a song.   I am not kidding you.

Heck, I could tell you stories from all  of our kids lives when it comes to this stuff.  Cool thing is, it has absolutely nothing to do with money, status, or education.  You can’t buy it.  It flows from their hearts.

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I do know these people are a blessing to encounter.

Saying goodby after the 2017 roofing party

Two things….help me out with a name for what I’m trying to articulate.

Secondly, Is there anybody in your life who has a little bit of whatever I’m talking about?   Doesn’t mean they don’t have their off days.  Maybe it’s the post-mistress at your local post office…or a waitress or bartender @ one of your regular stops… Maybe it’s your car mechanic, or your sister-in-law, or one of your kids… Maybe it’s you?   Tell me a story (or three.)  DM

Felons and farmboys

Call me crazy, but two of my favorite people groups to hire from are farm boys and felons.

Yes you have to be a little careful with the 2nd group, but in my line of work (construction)  it helps to have a little “fire”/ passion/get to it-ness  (is that a word?)

We had a new guy helping us out yesterday on a roof tear off from the  later category.  (The homeowner hired him directly because my crew is a little short handed)

He’s got a new baby. Trying to make something of his life.  Has what look like quite a few gang tattoos.  He did a pretty good job hanging in there.

At some point he mentioned being a felon, “Having done some crazy @#it when he was younger.”

I asked him how old he was?

25

I smiled and told him what my dad  would say.

Dad likes to say, “The human brain doesn’t really mature until you are 25.”  (I think it is a Dr Phil-ism)

My new co-worker looked at me and said,”That is correct, I would tend to agree with him.”

A couple of you regulars probably remember the story of Johnny, (the guy who stabbed me with the sawzall a few years back).

 Here’s a link to that story.  

I intended to write about working with a felon this morning but in re-reading that older post, it says what I wanted to say…

Well, I need to get ready for work.

I’ll leave you with a song I like to listen to once in a while that helps me stay in touch with my farmboy roots… 😉  Later! DM