Yesterday I pulled my car up to the pump and said to the gas attendant, “Can you fill it with regular, please?” Then I laughed and said, “Gosh, you must hear that a million times a day!”
When he came back to my window, he said, “Do you know what I hear more than that?”
I looked at him curiously.
“I hear, ‘Fill it up regular.’ No please. Most folks don’t say please.”
I said, “Oh my goodness! Well, please and thank you a million times for all the people who forget.”
In the busyness and rush to get places and do things, we sometimes forget our manners. But the truth is, a little bit of gratitude fills us all up.
Whether verbal or written, there’s always room for kindness in our words. If you need website content, newsletters or blog posts that will fuel your business and always be polite and authentic, let’s talk.
Back when I was 7, I fell in love with a goat at the Catskill game farm. We stared into each other’s eyes and I knew we were best friends. My parents had to pry me away. I clung to the fence and cried as they lovingly explained that our brick ranch in suburbia was not agriculturally-zoned. Fine, I huffed! But we need to move to a farm immediately.
At 17, Simon the Shetland Pony had my heart.
On New Year’s Eve 2002, while everyone else was finding cute boys to kiss, I was outside under the bar’s dumpster trying to lure a stray kitten into my purse.
You get it. From donkeys to hummingbirds, animals fill me with joy. (Except for spiders; they fill me with terror.) So, you won’t be surprised that when hubby and I stopped renting and bought
an animal shelter a house of our own, it didn’t take long to find some furry friends to come live with us.
I’m pleased to introduce you to Cannoli. Though she lived in the shelter for 4 years with her siblings, she is turning into a total love-bug with tons of personality. She is currently snoring on the couch in my office. I’m also fostering her sweet sister, Tootsie (the red one), who is available for adoption.
Here’s to infusing more joy into your life this year—in whatever way that means! If doing less writing yourself will increase your joy, I’d love to help.
Why can’t I be blonde?
Covered in stickers and stars, my diary from seventh grade fell to the floor. Inside I discovered pages of nonsense I’d written about my crush, Frankie. I was dismayed because Frankie only liked girls with blonde hair. With my full head of jet-black hair (that happened to be cut like Elvis), our love was obviously not meant to be. But I pined anyway. The anguish!
I laughed so hard while reading. Poor seventh grade me. I didn’t understand the importance of authentic branding! It’s plain as day—Frankie was not an ideal suitor. (Why was I trying to impress a cigarette-smoking, fight-starting 12-year-old anyway?)
Marketing is about impressing the people who will appreciate our extremely hot Elvis haircuts.
Here’s to the wonder of you,