On Friday I had a conversation with a business associate.

Out of the blue, he asked my astrological sign.

I laughed to myself remembering the pick-up line of the 80's.


"That doesn't surprise me".

"Okay, I'll give. Why?"

He went on in a rather pathetic excuse for an explanation saying that I have a "sting" to my business persona.


He said that I am constantly speaking about excellence, doing the best we can do, and working with honor.

"So where does the sting come in?" I asked.

He stumbled around his words, tripping here and there, and basically said that he feels "stung" when talking with me because I have high standards ... and he feels sometimes he cannot live up to these standards.

He said he does not want to disappoint me.

I began to think about his words.

He's right, you know.

I do set high standards for myself. I believe that "settling" is not an option; I work diligently towards excellence. I believe that if you do something, always - - - without fail - - - do it with a dedication that produces your very best effort.

I have been accused of being a perfectionist.

I do not agree with that statement because my faith tells me only one human walked this earth in perfection. That does not, however, preclude me from striving towards excellence.

I work hard to do things right the first time. I make an effort to be proactive in business anticipating the roadblocks and hurdles to avert failure rather than being forced to be reactive to a disaster that a wee bit of planning and forethought could have avoided.

Within these parameters that I have set for myself is the underlying constant goal of sweet aspirations. I believe you can get the job done with diligence, honor and integrity but without forsaking the gentle spirit of sweetness and decency.

As such, when this young man said that I have a "sting" to my business persona, I felt sad. Had I let my tenacity towards excellence become demanding?

He assured me that I had not. He assured me that I was always kind, motivating, and uplifting.

Sure, I realize that I place high expectations in the people around me.


Why not?

For goodness sake, I have too much faith in them to expect nothing but their very best. If you expect little, you get little. If you expect great things ... you will get great things. I believe that everyone has the ability to succeed at being their very best.

I was grateful for the discussion because it reminded me that kindness is strength and a virtue. Too many people assume being sweet and kind is a form of weakness.

Excellence comes in many forms: a desire to do one's best, to soothe a wounded soul, to make someone laugh. These are powerful tools.

I do not believe in astrology.

But I am grateful for the conversation it started.

So ... maybe those smooth talkers back in the 80's who were cruising the clubs and asking, "Hey baby, what's your sign?" ... well, maybe they knew something, eh?

What's Your Sign?          
[12:30am MST] [Permalink]


Geez. It has been two months since I last visited the empty halls of sweetaspirations.com.

Every now and then I will look at my browser bookmarks to visit sites I have enjoyed in the past and I find that there are people who just continue year after year to consistently write and post and blog and tweet and plurk and so on.

They Facebook and MySpace (which apparently have become verbs).

Where do they find the time?

Or something to write about?

I find myself composing mental journal entries while driving in the car after something I have seen or heard or done has amused, angered or surprised me.

But seldom do these Pulitzer Prize winning journal posts even make it past the car door! I turn the key, the engine shuts off and with it goes all recollection of turned phrases and waxing poetic.

I also realize that as I age, my compositions are less lyrical and more curmudgeonette (the fairer sex version).

I guess the rose colored glasses of my sweet aspirations are tarnishing with age and perhaps losing some of their luster.

Maybe it is a sign of the times: recession equals stress, stress becomes sleeplessness, sleeplessness results in cranky ... and finally, cranky is the precursor to curmudgeonette.

For example:

This afternoon, whilst shopping at Whole Foods, it took all possible bridling of my tongue and tempered restraint not to lash out verbally at a small boy who was literally threatening his mother because she would not buy him two boxes of raspberry Hamantaschen.

I was so embarrassed for her, I actually found myself looking the other way.

When I was a wee girlie (back when Christ was still swaddled in lamb's wool) ... if I had raised a stink in a store, my mother would not have been embarrassed in the least to haul off and smack me right across the arse.

Even as a child, I respected just the thought of getting swatted ... and as such, never earned such action.

Would I have been more tolerant of this child and his mother thirty years ago when my body ached less and my mind wasn't racing with things to accomplish before I draw my last breath?

The truth is, I have no clue.

Because back then I would have been busy looking at the men, flirting and preening, full of self absorption ... and would not have given the child's actions a moment's thought.

Time marches on.

Even online.

[3:00pm MST] [Permalink]

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