I had two different phone calls today.
From two women with totally opposite attitudes to life.
One is a friend.
Of long standing.
Who, in normal parlance, could be considered to have it all.
A successful business she started from scratch.
A loving husband of 34 years. Who is very patient. And tolerant.
Three lovely children. Who have essentially been nurtured by their father.
A beautiful architect designed home on the harbour.
And is well connected in the metropolitan area where she lives and works.
Doors open for her when she knocks.
But she’s a whinger of the highest order.
Everything.
And everyone.
Is all bad.
And nothing is ever good.
But within this morass of doom and gloom, she achieves things.
But it’s painful to listen to her tirades. When I know the outcome will almost always be positive.
She just has this deep need to . . .
. . . complain!
Phone call number 2 was from a customer of long standing.
Who I haven’t heard from in a long time.
Catching up on life between phone calls, her story was truly one of doom and gloom.
But with an unusually happy twist.
Two years ago, her husband and only child, her teenage son, left for a fishing trip.
And died in a car accident on the way.
Not their fault.
After languishing in grief for close to a year, she decided life wasn’t meant to be miserable.
And made some life changing decisions which set her off on a new journey down the yellow brick road called ‘life is to be lived by the living’.
She sold their home.
Too many memories that kept her shackled to her misery.
And decided to become a not quite so grey nomad.
So she could get away from all those well meaning people who talked incessantly about her loss.
And start a new adventure amidst people who know nothing about her.
She bought an all in one car/caravan. Something she could handle by herself. Nothing to inflate. Or deflate when coming and going.
And she’s been on the road for 8 months.
Loving every minute.
And especially loving her new found freedom from sadness.
And all her new ‘roadie’ friends.
She’s truly smitten with the romance of the road.
The reason for her call?
She’s in SA. Dropped in on an old friend.
Noticed they have a ‘gawdawful ironing board cover’.
And is sending them a Fitz Like A Glove™ Ironing Board Cover as a gift.
For their hospitality.
Now I ask you.
Which gal would you like to be a long road trip with?
Attitude is . . .
. . . and always will be . . .
. . .the defining measure of a person.
~Carol Jones, Ironing Diva❤
PS. This Ironing Diva loves people with an unassailable positive attitude.
PPS. I am not only an Ironing Diva. But as one friend says, I am ‘The Queen’ when it comes to ironing.
I Am The Purveyor Of The Tantrum Free Fitz Like A Glove™ Ironing Board Cover And Other Goodies
Made with love and care in RURAL Australia by men and women who have a disability.
It’s not for everyone.
But it’s definitely for you if you’re fussy about the cover you iron on.
And if you love to support Australian made.
And want to put something back into the community when you make a purchase.
The Fitz Like A Glove™ Ironing Board Cover cover has more than 350,000 customers in 29 countries. Because it lives up to its name. It ‘Fitz Like A Glove™’ every time you iron.
And these are the ‘Other Goodies’
Like this post? Share it with your family and friends on . . .
Facebook.
Google+.
LinkedIn.
The share button is at the end of this post.
Have a question? Email me at the bottom of this post.
Or phone me, Carol Jones, in rural Australia on 02 63 588 511.
Photos of my rural property are courtesy of me, Ironing Diva – who is also known as Paddock Paparazzi – and taken at sunrise every morning.
Sunrise. Peeking Through Very Heavy Cloud Cover.
PS. And I have a fabulous newsletter ‘A Smidgen Of Gossip’. This is what a subscriber says about it. “Carol. Just had some time to read it and found that it is, as with everything you do, rather wonderful. A great read. W” You can subscribe to it by clicking this link. It’s FREE! This is not a lifetime commitment. You can Unsubscribe at any time. Don’t miss out. Click this link now!
A Crimson Rosella. In A Blackberry Bush.
