God has blessed me with many gifts. Thankfully those gifts include legs. My legs are fully functional in that I can get from point A to B without issue. My gene pool however; did not donate leg length. Vanity forces me to visually extend what my gene pool did not by wearing shoes with heels higher than a flip-flop. This fact does not pose any inconvenience with two regular exceptions: Hiking in the woods and having to remove my shoes at the door of a home I’ve been invited into. While my vanity can remain intact comfortably in the woods, it takes a hit when (as a good and humble house guest) I feel obligated to deposit my lifts at the front door upon…
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Somehow, there is an irony in the fact that you can gauge a personality by a handshake. I believe that a handshake is a barometer of confidence. There are as many variations as people. Limp and loose, exact and firm, clammy and oppressive, combative and intrusive. I’ve yet to shake the hand of a successful woman whose grip is woefully limp and damp. I’ve not shaken the hand of a leader whose effective grip was curtailed by a weak sense of self-worth. This is not to say that an effective handshake signals a healthy ego. Sometimes, we just have to fake it. Whether a social or business environment, a proper handshake will commence an impression. Let’s kick-off our imprint in a positive light! Step…
I don’t love your dog. Before you get your hackles up, let me preface that with a disclaimer. There are pet people and there are non-pet people. My husband and I fall into the latter category. Don’t get me wrong, we love the idea of owning a pet because we like animals. We desperately want to be members of the pet club association and in out hearts, we are. Our last attempt into the prestigious club of dog ownership forced us into our reality. We owned a sweet and lovable bichon who we temporarily lent to my brother while we moved into a new home. Upon return, our sweet, curly, brown bundle returned our love by sprinting to the door and crying for three…
The heavy traffic of wedding season is now upon us. Fond memories of weddings past conjure up images of kisses and toasts. Many times the former is a direct result of the later. Ad nauseum. I have not pinpointed the reason why this bothers me. The reception room is filled with the cheerful clinking of glasses by utensil, groom kisses bride, bride kisses groom. All I can ever think is “please, just let them eat!“. I have no idea where this custom originated but am hoping that it is contained and quickly eradicated the world over. Aside from the dollar-dance, it is the lack of toasting know-how that disgruntles me. Toasting is not unique to weddings of course so the following simple rules apply…
My son was a competitive hockey player from the time he was three until 18 years of age. These years were dedicated to many long hours in ice arenas, camps, private lessons and tournaments. Many thousands of days were spent in the pursuit of his hockey enjoyment. This does not take into account the dollars spent and politics we suffered through. A missing element of instruction was noticed about the time he reached eight years of age. At that age, the youngsters were able to skate independently rather than in packs. They had fully grasped the rules of the game and started to realize the thrill of winning and the glory of individual achievement. As we all know, hockey is a team sport. As…
Last week I performed the professional faux pas of faux pas’s. Let me expound… I work for a large, global firm but have the luxury of working “remotely” (code word for home office). My work days are spent on the phone in conference calls and on the computer conducting all matters of business. My days are long and it is not uncommon for me to feel guilt about having to leave my desk for a restroom break. I’m still working on the work/life balancing act but I digress. Last week while on a conference call with a fellow colleague and a customer, I did it. I committed a whopper of a pecadillo that is still leaving a flush on my face. I unwittingly sent…
myfauxpas 