Book Review: Grandma Knows the F-Word
 Ted Shredd knows FUN. In his delightful book, Grandma Knows the F-Word, Ted shares the wisdom, wit, fun and frivolity he has learned in his over 15 years of research. This book is full of crazy cartoons, perky puns, inspiring ideas, and Ted’s wild and wacky wit. It’s an easy read, and you don’t have to read it all at one sitting. Each chapter is just a few pages long, but full of substance. Ted leads the reader through an understanding of why we stop having fun, to why we continue to leave fun out of our lives, to what we can do to change all that. This was a difficult book for me to find on Amazon; there was only one USED copy and it was being offered at over $89.00! Thank goodness Ted sells it on his web-site (for a lot less than $89.00). You can learn more about Ted and what he offers by visiting: http://www.discoverfun.comI recommend this book highly and give it four giggles out of five! 
Janice's Story
 Hello everyone, Well, I did it - I ran the Vancouver Marathon and I finished in 3:39 and some change. I'd like to share with you what this experience was like for me. On Marathon day, people in purple t-shirts lined the start line, the walkers at 6:30 am and the Marathoners at 7. I was surprised by the amount of purple I saw out there, many with photographs of and letters from people pinned to their TNT jerseys. At one point, I came upon a woman running slowly on the sidelines. You can tell humble runners by their propensity to stay to the right. In my experience these are the best-paced runners, allowing nothing to distract them from their inner rhythm, they almost always finish strong and sane. This woman was wearing the purple TNT jersey, so I was going to do my little shoulder-touch thing as I passed her, a sort of "go team" gesture. But then I saw the picture pinned to her back. It was a 2 year old wearing a big floppy rainbow coloured hat and a huge grin. Across the top of the photo were the words: "I'm running for my son Austin." Although my pace was quite a bit faster than hers, I couldn't pass for a bit. I was scared to touch her and give her my jaunty thumbs up as I went by. I still don't know why. I just felt so grateful to be able to contribute in some way to creating hope. I know there are people alive today because they survived Cancer. I know that they survived because we have found some ways of killing off the cells and keeping the body alive. We are learning more about curing and healing all the time. So, if the money we raised goes to give hope that Austin will see another year, or another 10, or live to adulthood, to me it's worth it. I did end up touching her shoulder lightly as I passed. I made sure my cheeks were dry and that I smiled and looked her in the eye as I did. I know that I am not immune to being in her shoes, or her son's, and I think it's important to keep everyone "inside the circle" even when they are probably experiencing things we hope to never have to endure. But - here's my confession: I hate fund raising. I don't like asking people for money because I know that they either already give far more than their share or they feel resentful about constantly being approached for cash for this that and the other. How much can we give to a million good causes before we all just cry enough?! I feel the same, believe me, I'm on every stupid list for helping kids on the planet and I get tired of saying: no, I'm sorry, I gave. But...I believe in the law of increments. That's why I love the marathon. The law of increments says a little adds up. You cannot run a marathon without learning, submitting to this law. You can only increase a little at a time, or you will become injured. You cannot "give till it hurts" in a marathon, (for long) because you will end up losing more than you gain. You must build in tiny steps, carefully measured increases until you can go the distance. It works every time. That's why I'm taking these last two weeks for a final push. I'm sending this email to everyone I know, hoping you will give just a tiny bit via the link at the end of this email. The cost of a Starbuck's latte, or a movie rental...something you will hardly notice and that won't hurt a bit. It will add up to a large cheque for a researcher just waiting for the money to go one step further in a clinical trial; it will become hope for someone like Austin. I want Austin to learn to read, to have a first day at school, to spend more time in the baby jogger with Mom. For those of you who know me, you will be concerned that this is going to be a habit...I'm sorry to say, it won't. I found the experience of fund raising for TNT inspiring and wonderful...but it really wrecked me. I give on my own, I give what I can, but I give because I feel so lucky in my life, and so confused that others have to face terrible struggles. But, I am not at a place where I am comfortable asking for money from people, reminding them how lucky they are to be able to work, to live, to go outside and not think - how much longer? Or, will this drug work? I don't like to remind people of sad things all the time. I'm sorry to be knocking on your door, but I made a promise to the picture on that woman's back. So, I humbly ask for a "painless" amount from you now, and I won't ask again. I will continue (god willing) to run my little races and try my best to give what I can. But, I'm not a great fund raiser because I have a hard time making the "ask." Nathan and I have offered a marathon-building program for anyone interested in running any race, triathlon, or duathlon - as a thank you gift for a donation. All you have to do is email livingston.nat@gmail.com or directinprint@telus.net and we'll interview you and create a program for whatever you want to acheive. If you have a race you'd like to participate in, and you want to a program to improve your PR or try something new, we would be happy to set you up on one. We'll even show you what local races are available for you to enter. You don't have to be in shape! Which is the wonderful thing about TNT - most participants start out in average to poor condition and not only raise funds throughout their training, they discover a lifestyle they never thought possible. Anyone can run a marathon. Anyone of us can survive cancer. It's forward motion, one step at a time. One last picture - at mile 20 I saw a man with MS, or some sort of neuromuscular condition that obviously made walking a bit complicated. He was loping along at a solid pace, accommodating for his condition, but moving strongly forward. I have seen the elites racing like they plan on dying right after the finish line, but this man truly was running as if it was the last one he would ever do. It may, or it may not have been. But that kind of strength makes you humble and awed. Thank God I'm a mid-packer, or surely I'd miss seeing these courageous people. Seeing people struggling to just do their best, drawing on all their resources has made me love people so much. We are at our best when we stive and I want to give to those who strive quietly, far from the cheering bystanders, to live. Thank you for giving what you can to this cause. Please forward this email to anyone you like. With love, Janice ============================================ You can give online at the link below and a tax refundable receipt will be sent to you. http://www.active.com/donate/tntvan/tntvanJBennet
Mollys Story
 What an inspiring story. When we think we have problems..... Meet Molly. She's a gray speckled pony who was abandoned by her owners when Katrina hit southern Louisiana, USA . She spent weeks on her own before finally being rescued and taken to a farm where abandoned animals were stockpiled. While there, she was attacked by a pit bull terrier, and almost died. Her gnawed right front leg became infected and her vet went to LSU for help. But LSU was overwhelmed, and this pony was a welfare case. You know how that goes. But after surgeon Rustin Moore met Molly, he changed his mind. He saw how the pony was careful to lie down on different sides so she didn't seem to get sores, and how she allowed people to handle her. She protected her injured leg. She constantly shifted her weight, and didn't overload her good leg. She was a smart pony with a serious survival ethic. Moore agreed to remove her leg below the knee and a temporary artificial limb was built. Molly walked out of the clinic and her story really begins there.  "This was the right horse and the right owner," Moore insists. Molly happened to be a one-in-a-million patient. She's tough as nails, but sweet, and she was willing to cope with pain. She made it obvious she understood (that) she was in trouble. The other important factor, according to Moore, is having a truly committed and compliant owner who is dedicated to providing the daily care required over the lifetime of the horse. Molly's story turns into a parable for life in post-Katrina Louisiana. The little pony gained weight, her mane felt a comb. A human prosthesis designer built her a leg. The prosthetic has given Molly a whole new life, Allison Barca DVM, Molly's regular vet, reports. And she asks for it! She will put her little limb out, and come to you and let you know that she wants you to put it on. Sometimes she wants you to take it off too." And sometimes, Molly gets away from Barca. "It can be pretty bad when you can't catch a three-legged horse," she laughs.  Most important of all, Molly has a job now. Kay, the rescue farm owner, started taking Molly to shelters, hospitals, nursing homes, rehabilitation centers. Anywhere she thought that people needed hope. Wherever Molly went, she showed people her pluck. She inspired people. And she had a good time doing it. "It's obvious to me that Molly had a bigger role to play in life", Moore said, "She survived the hurricane, she survived a horrible injury, and now she is giving hope to others.""She's not back to normal," Barca concluded, "but she's going to be better. To me, she could be a symbol for New Orleans itself." This is Molly's most recent prosthesis. The bottom photo shows the ground surface that she stands on, which a smiley face has embossed in it. Wherever Molly goes, she leaves a smiley hoof print behind!
Lorie’s Story
I met a young lady recently who told me the most amazing story – and it was so inspiring, I asked her if I could share it with you, my readers. Lorie is a single mom who has gone through a lot lately, and it’s more than most of us would even want to contemplate. She was diagnosed with cervical cancer and boy, did that ever change her priorities! Lorie had what would seem to be the perfect life – the perfect marriage, the perfect house, the perfect children. Two beautiful girls who are smart, well rounded, athletic, and she is very proud of them both. Her husband and she were known for being in the right social circles, gave wonderful dinner parties, had loads of friends, etc., etc, blah, blah, blah. But Lorie’s life wasn’t really all that perfect. You see, she was putting on a front most of the time – doing what was expected of her and keeping the real core of herself hidden from view. Even her husband didn’t know who she really was. Oh perhaps he did in the beginning; but Lorie had been married for over 18 years, and as parts of her personality showed up that he didn’t like, she just put them away, so to speak. And over the years, she kinda forgot who she was too! But the day she came home from receiving the doctor’s diagnosis changed all that. When Lorie told her husband about her condition and the required treatment program her doctor had recommended, his only question was “When can we have sex?” When she needed cuddling, and hope all he could think of was his own needs. And Lorie got it! She couldn’t even answer him; she was so stunned by his thoughtlessness, his insensitivity that she just rolled over to her own side of the bed and began to think about her life. She thought about all the times she had put aside her own needs for his (is this resonating with any of you?) and all the times that she had squashed her own desires to play, to be silly, to enjoy life so that she could put on the face he wanted the world to see. And Lorie decided to take back her life. In just a few short months, Lorie and her husband were going their own separate ways; her cancer was caught in time and treated successfully. Lorie began to introduce the real her to friends and family, and not surprisingly, was not always welcomed. Even one of her daughters rejected her and chose to stay with the insensitive husband. But Lorie pressed on. When I met her, she and her husband had been separated for three years, she had enjoyed a steamy affair with a gorgeous young man from the other side of the border, had released her inhibitions and found the playful side of her which had attracted a whole new set of friends. Lorie had just rented her condo and was moving to California to explore a new life, a new career, and give expression to the woman who had been hidden for all those years. I congratulated her and asked her to keep in touch – her life is now much richer, fuller, more fun and everything is falling into place for her. I can’t wait to hear how things turn out in sunny LA!
Guilty Pleasures without the Guilt
If I had a dime for every friend who told me she couldn't enjoy something fun because she'd feel guilty, I'd be a millionairess by now! What is it with women? They can't have fun without feeling like they are doing something wrong?!?!?! Many of my clients tell me the same thing -- I suggest they go have a massage, and they say "Oh, no, I couldn't do that -- it would cost too much!" Or I say, why don't you take the weekend and go visit a friend, and they reply "Well what about the laundry, the meals, and the shopping?" And some of them even say, "Well, no; I couldn't go do something fun, because then my husband would have to stay home, miss his golf game, and look after the kids!" Can you believe that? I mean -- really!!! Men are OK to have fun, but we aren't? What kind of message is that sending to the Universe. My friend Lacey is a perfect example. She's working on two important projects (simultaneously), looking after a 1-year-old, trying to upgrade her education, and keeping house, etc. So, is it any wonder that she needs a break now and then? She finds herself in tears a lot; wonders why she's having difficulty coping, beating herself up for not being on top of everything, and probably not sleeping well. She's certainly not eating well; when one of us reminds her that she needs to have some protein more than once a day, she says, "Oh, yeah; l forgot!" Lacey is a perfect candidate for our 3-3-3 program. In this program we introduce the notion that you need to plan on doing three FUN things each month. Then, after that has become a habit, we suggest you try to do three FUN things each week. And -- you guessed it -- once you've mastered that idea, we look for you to bring three FUN things into your life (and the life of your family) each day. That's not such an unreasonable idea, you know! One of my favourite new books is by Ted Schredd; it’s called Grandma knows the “F” word, and it’s every bit as outrageous as you might think, but not in the same way. You see, the F-word that Grandma knows is “FUN”. When you think about the fact that children laugh more than 400 times each day, we adults should certainly consider laughing with our families, and our friends at least THREE times per day -- don'tcha think?!? Jan Jantzen, the Women's Entrepreneurial Guru suggests that every business woman plan on ONE FULL day of FUN every week. She suggests that on your planned FUN day, you have no business contact whatsoever, no e-mails, no phone calls. Just you and your FUN time. I know; some of you are cringing at that notion! But honestly, you'll be surprised at how much more refreshed and energized you'll be! You'll have more desire to be with your family; more creativity to bring to the table, and more willingness to be open to the demands of a busy woman's life. If this is something you think might help you, but it scares the you-know-what out of you, give us a call, and one of our coaches will be happy to get you started on the right track to enjoying a few of those Guilty Pleasures without the guilt!
The Sandpiper
by Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.
I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world
begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something
and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.
"Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.
"I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.
"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand"
That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.
A sandpiper glided by.
"That's a joy," the child said.
"It's a what?"
"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."
The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself,
hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed
completely out of balance.
"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.
"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."
"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."
"Hi, Wendy."
She giggled. "You're funny," she said.
In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.
Her musical giggle followed me.
"Come again, Mr. P," she called. " We'll have another happy day."
The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings,
and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out
of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.
The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was
chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.
"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.
"I don't know. You say."
"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.
The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."
"Then let's just walk."
Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face.
"Where do you live?" I asked.
"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.
Strange, I thought, in winter.
"Where do you go to school?"
"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."
She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was
on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day.
Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.
Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no
mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt
like demanding she keep her child at home.
"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd
rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.
"Why?" she asked.
I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought,
My God, why was I saying this to a little child?
"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day"
"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"
"Did it hurt?" she inquired.
"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.
"When she died?"
"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding,
wrapped up in myself. I strode off.
A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.
Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up
to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking
young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.
"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today
and wondered where she was."
"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much.
I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance,
please, accept my apologies."
"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing
that I meant what I had just said.
"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia.
Maybe she didn't tell you."
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.
"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no.
She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.
But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left
something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"
I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young
woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold
childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach,
a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:
A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love
opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,
I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little
picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year
of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.
A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand
-- who taught me the gift of love.
NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20
years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder
to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.
The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas
can make us lose focus abou t what is truly important
or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.
This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,
take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.
This comes from someone's heart, and is read with many
and now I share it with you...
May God Bless everyone who receives this! There are NO coincidences!
Everything that happens to us happens for a reason. Never brush aside
anyone as insignificant. Who knows what they can teach us?
I wish for you, a sandpiper.
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