Writing Exercise Submissions: A Future Free of Fear

The writing exercise I posted on Sunday came from Day Three of the Twenty-one Day Consciousness Cleanse. I've been working through this book for about a week, now.

When I was telling someone about the book, recently, she asked , jokingly, if it was like the Twenty-one Day Colon Cleanse.

I replied, “Yes, but without the diarrhea.”

Actually, it wouldn’t be hard to compare the two concepts. In both instances, the idea is to clean out the old in order to more easily absorb what’s coming in. Debbie Ford describes the purpose of the consciousness cleanse as emptying the vessel we bring to God. Spirit can only fill the space we bring. If we only have a thimble-sized gap to fill, that’s all the God we get. Purging the resentments and unresolved conflicts and emotions inside us is the way to create that space.

All of the old emotions and experiences we have refused to acknowledge and work through are debris which fill up the container we each carry with us. By looking at our feelings – identifying them, allowing them, and then turning them over to our higher power to hold for us – we not only gain the wisdom and lessons of each experience, we also make more room for God and connection in our lives.

The writing exercise was:

Write a short story about your life free from the toxicity of your past. Allow yourself to dream an easy, carefree future filled with fun and frolic. Be creative as you describe you walk, your sense of well-being, and your deep gratitude for life. Give yourself the gift of dreaming a new future.

I received one submission, this week, from Gail at “Know Your Its”

Here is Gail’s entry:

As I look back over my life I can honestly say that each experience is part of the fabric of my design. For years I tried to deny parts of my tapestry, going to great lengths to rid myself of myself. Over time I came to realize that each square of my life's tapestry has purpose, meaning, and value despite its, at times, harsh, very harsh truth. I no longer see any of my past as toxic because to do so would mean I am toxic and I am not. In order to love ALL of myself I had to accept my past as part of me, not all of me, but part. Blended with so many other life-giving experiences. Today, I can honestly say I have arrived. I am at a time in my life where I am preserving all of my world as it is - I have no great goals or projects to complete. That is not to say that I am not open to learning new things and experiencing more of life, but rather I am content in my place,my space, my world which includes all of my past, all of me. I have surrendered to my truth, embraced my past, and I am in charge now, not it. There is nothing to run from or hide from or deny - and no desire to separate myself from myself. I am whole. Amen.

Thank you Gail! I can see the hope and peace of your future. I know you are already finding it, in the present. I especially love the line "trying to rid myself of myself". That's a great way to describe the impossible task we set out for ourselves when we deny our experiences and emotions.

Here is what I wrote:

My past is a gift. Every experience I’ve had has made me who I am, right now, and I feel like a gift: to the world; to God; to those I love; and to myself.

I’m a gift waiting to be opened by those people I’ve yet to know – and they are gifts to me. Knowing this, I can walk confidently into new relationships, waiting to see what we bring to each other. Every relationship will bring me something. Those that bring love enrich my spirit. Those that bring conflict teach me about myself and the nature of all things. Those that bring me both are the greatest teachers of all.

I’ve expressed, acknowledged and walked through all of the old experiences and feelings. I’ve surrendered to them and then surrendered them to God. In so doing, I’ve gained the wisdom I was meant to gain and now I have room for so much more to come my way. Because I no longer judge fear as cowardly, tears as childish or anger as wrong, I can feel each emotion as it comes up. Because there is nothing left inside to be triggered, I am not overwhelmed by my feelings and pass through them easily, confident that I will come out the other side with more understanding and new growth. Because I allow myself to know sadness, fear and anger I can easily find the other side of each of these emotions – Joy, peace, and gratitude.

There is so much room inside me, that I am open to each experience in a new way. I am present to the moment, taking in the sights and smells and other physical sensations right along with the feelings they bring with them. The more connected I am to life experiences, the more connected I feel to who I really am. My true nature - the spiritual being inside this body – is consistently awake and connected to the great power of the universe.

*****

Writing Exercise Submissions: Random Topic Stories

Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday, as promised. Thank you to Desiree and Gail for their really wonderful submissions to this rather difficult writing exercise. For this exercise, we randomly chose from lists of topics which included what would happen to whom, and when, and where the story was to happen. To read the entire exercise, CLICK HERE.

Submission One:

He had just turned 94 years old. His routine was still the same simple tasks; get up, eat, take a crap (hopefully), shower, shave and walk to the corner to wait for the bus. Today was quite muggy but that's to be expected in early summer. He adjusted his red bow tie as he sat in the glass enclosure waiting...

Mrs Jenkins arrived as she always does, with her stockings rolled below her knees, scuffling along in her orthopedic shoes, sporting her bright blue hat with the peacock feather. We nodded and smiled, then she bent own and kissed me on the forehead.

"It's my birthday, Mrs Jenkins."

"Oh Mr Sawyer, Happy Birthday." She kissed me square on the mouth, 'mwah'!!

We waited patiently and then, right on time, the bus arrived. We sauntered over and carefully climbed aboard, stopping to drop our coins in to the slot.

"Oh let me pay Mr Sawyer - it's my birthday gift to you."

"Why thank you Mrs Jenkins, I accept your generosity."

We smiled and found our seats, across the aisle from one another. The bus drove off and I saw Mrs Jenkins close her eyes and surrender to the rhythm of the bus. I did the same. And then I heard a weird sound - like indoor thunder - and I realized it was me, passing gas!! I was so embarassed - and hoped no one noticed although based on what I heard that was probably not the case.

Mrs Jenkins was jolted awake and looked over at me and said, "Mr Sawyer, are you allright?"

"Better now Mrs Jenkins, better now"

We both laughed heartily and Mrs Jenkins sang "Happy Birthday" to me, and the entire bus joined in!

*

Thank you Gail! That left me with a smile on my face. I can just see the two old dears. :-) I want to say that when I receive these in the comments, there are never any paragraph breaks, so I insert them as I see fit. I hope this hasn't thrown off the pace of your piece.

*****

Submission Two:

It's a perfect, early Summer's morning. The sky is clear and the birds have just set up their chorus to greet Meg as she reaches over to switch off her alarm. Even though she got to bed later than she'd planned last night, she's feeling bright and ready to face the day. She doesn't always feel as enthusiastic on a winter's morning when the weather is cold and bleak at this time.

Being a fire-fighter is a new adventure for her. It was only recently that her local Fire and Rescue Department voted to enlist their first three trainee women. Meg has always been fit, having participated in several of her school's sports' teams. At first, she'd toyed with the idea of being either a physiotherapist or a veterinary surgeon, but mathematics was not her strong point and so her applications for both were tossed out. She took a year off to travel the world, on a hugely confining budget, but came back to her hometown eager to set down her roots and to do something worthwhile for her community. When the option of fire-fighting came up, she jumped at it.

Meg has been in training for six months now and is loving it. Today is going to signal a significant turning point in her career, but she is as yet unaware of this. Cheerfully, she leaps into the shower and emerges feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. She grabs her bag as she hurriedly exits the door, but forgets to pick up her whistle, which she must wear at all times.

She has barely touched base at the Fire Department Headquarters when the alarm bell sounds. Pete has a debilitating migraine and it is decided that novice Meg should take his place with the crew going out now. She excitedly scrambles aboard and before she has even had time to think, they are racing off to the newly opened shopping mall a few blocks away. Apparently, a fire broke out in one of the eateries, presumed to have been caused by a gas leak.

This early in the day, there are fortunately few shoppers about, but they need to make sure the fire does not spread and that no one is trapped. When they arrive at the scene, it's all systems go. Meg is tasked with going through the shops and passageways closest to where the fire errupted, while the longest serving members are assigned the more hazardous task of putting out the fire and ensuring no one is unnecessarily injured. Meg heads straight indoors and follows her prescribed drill, heart pounding with the first surge of adrenalin. This is her first time 'going solo' and, although a little nervous, she's feeling confident in the knowledge that her routines are now well-established habits.

She reaches for her whistle and then suddenly realises her error. It's still hanging on the hook beside the frontdoor! Without her whistle to alert anyone who might be unaware of the fire, she realises she has made a grave error. She cannot run back outside to ask her supervisor for a spare as time is crucial. She has to face the smokey passageways without her trusty whistle. Not only is it crucial in alerting her colleagues of her whereabouts, but it is often the only thing that can save the day when someone is trapped. In a building of this size, shouting at the top of your lungs is ill-advised.

Apart from the real danger of inhaling too much smoke yourself, it uses up vital oxygen supplies. You need to get in and get out as quickly as possible, but having ensured you've covered all areas. This is where the whistle really comes into play.

*

Thank you Desiree... I want to know what happens next? I hope she makes it out of the fire....

 

*****

And finally, my submission:

She pulled her ragged shawl tighter around her small shoulders against the early morning chill. A sharp pain sang out on the back of her upper arm. Sitting on the damp ground, she brushed at the thorns and sticks that fairly covered the coarse cloth of her shabby clothes. Having removed as much of the forest from her garments as was possible, she warmed her bare feet, first one and then the other, in her hands. Touching a tender cut on her cheek, she scowled at the memory of the men who’d chased her through the darkness, the night before, forcing her to crawl into thick brambles to hide.

It was a savory scent that had brought her to so much trouble. She’d followed it for a long way, as it wafted on the wind’s waves, the familiar fragrance bringing back lovely memories…. the soft touch of her mother’s hand... a warm fire behind them and a bowl of lamb stew on the table in front of them… she could almost taste the chunks of meat and bits of onion and carrot and - oh potatoes… yes, there had always been potatoes and the yeasty taste of hot rolls, fresh from the oven… the large form of her father smearing slabs of butter across his bread before making it disappear under his dark mustache.

But that was before her father – a distant memory – had gone off to war, and the influenza had taken her mother away. Her throat was clenched with grief, but her endless hunger drove her on towards the wonderful smell of food and a little cottage, at the edge of the woods.

Through an open window, she’d seen a loaf of fresh, hot bread, still steaming, on a table. No thoughts, just an instinctual force had driven her towards the food. She’d tried to grab the bread through the window, but her arm was too short. So, she’d climbed up on the sill, and just before she had the bread in her hands, she’d toppled inside the cottage, landing hard on the wood floor.

She’d wanted to cry out, but voices and movement in the other room filled her with panic. Quickly, she’d found her feet and started towards the window, grabbing the bread almost as an afterthought. Diving out the window, she’d thought she was free until strong hands seized her ankles. The only way free was to squirm out of her shoes and run barefoot into the woods. Her shoes – the lovely red shoes which had belonged to her mother – were gone.

There had not been time to grieve that loss.

Wait! Stop!

She’d run, shoving pieces of the bread into her mouth as she went, ensuring that she would at least get to eat it before she was caught. The brambles had saved her from being caught, and given her cover while she scarfed down the rest of the bread.

It had been delicious, and worth it, and now she would live to see another day. She got up and walked carefully across the leafy ground, towards the edge of the woods. Her feet were bruised, cut, and still chilled to the bone. She peeked out from behind an enormous oak tree. There was the cottage. There was no sign of the men.

Sticking to the edge of the tree-line, she made her way past the cottage, keeping a watchful eye out in case the men returned. The wonderful fullness of the night before was already wearing off. If she’d known she wouldn’t be caught, she’d have saved some of the bread for morning. She began to watch the ground for the signs of morel mushrooms or a wild strawberry. A little bit of red, up ahead, caught her attention and she hurried towards it, and could hardly believe what she saw.

There, at the edge of the woods, were her mother’s red shoes. They’d been cleaned and left there with a note. She put the shoes on, tying them tight as they were too large for her small feet, and then studied the note for a moment before putting it in her pocket and heading towards the cottage.

She wiped her dirty face with her hands, and brushed her fingers through her scraggly hair before knocking on the door. When the door opened, she turned her face up and there he was. His mustache was a little gray, now, but his eyes were exactly the same as they’d been the last time she’d seem him.

Her father swept her up in his arms, sobbing with joy and relief. He told her he’d returned from the war, had found out that his wife had been taken by the influenza and had been searching for his little daughter, ever since. He’d been in the cottage, speaking with the owners, asking if they had seen or heard of an orphaned eight-year-old girl in the area at the exact moment she had fallen onto the kitchen floor.

*****

Thanks  for submitting, you two. If anyone else wants to try it, you can read the original exercise and post your story in the comments. It was fun, and it was a much needed distraction for me this morning.

Now I need to take a shower and head out to my appointment with C. I'm nervous. It's kept me up the last couple of nights. I'll let you know how it goes.

*

Writing Exercise: Short Story

This week's writing exercise is a short story idea which I believe will be fun and challenging. I hope you enjoy it!

Read and do each step before going on to the next one:



Step One:


Decide if your main character will be male or female.

 

Step two:


Write down four numbers between one and five.  

(You can repeat numbers – for instance, I had my daughter choose the numbers for me, and she chose 4, 1, 2, 4.)


(Don't scroll down until you have your four numbers.)






Step Three:


The numbers you wrote will correspond to the four lists, below. (Your first number corresponds to list one, your second number to list two, and so on.)



The first list tells who your main character is.

1. a new parent
2. a fire-fighter
3. an alien from outer space
4. a homeless child
5. a 94-year-old

The second list tells where the story takes place:

1. a National Forest
2. an expensive restaurant
3. a shopping mall
4. the porch of an old farmhouse
5. on a bus

The third list tells when the story takes place.


1. during a fire
2. a hundred years ago
3. late at night
4. during a big thunderstorm
5. in early Summer

The fourth list tells what is on the main character's mind:

1. has lost something important
2. has an important decision to make
3. has just heard a secret
4. has been accused of something
5. something embarrassing has just happened

My choices were female and 4, 1, 2, 4, so my story is going to be about a homeless girl in a National Forest a hundred years ago, and she has been accused of something.


Submit your story in the comment box. (If it’s too long, you may have to submit it in two or more parts.)

I will post the submissions, along with my own, on Wednesday. I’m extending an extra day because it people sometimes need more time and I don’t want you to feel rushed.


I look forward to reading the entries... have fun!

Writing Exercise Submissions: Earliest Memory

I got one, awesome response to Sunday's writing exercise. This week's assignment was to write about a your earliest childhood memory, and to do so in first person, present tense.

Gails entry made me want to pick her up and hold her, myself. I'm glad for the resolution:

Posted by Gail

I am so scared to get up on that wooden box. I am just three years old after all. I see the other little girls giggling at me. I feel different because I am chubby. I love my long wavy hair and rosy cheeks and blue eyes and my Mommy always tells me how pretty I am. Still, I am scared to get measured for my dance costume - a grass skirt to sing a Hawaiian song while I do my tap dance.

The sewing lady called me over, "Gail, it's your turn, c'mon now".

I am chin down and eyes down as I scuff over to the wooden box. I get up on it and I feel sick to my tummy. I feel the tape measure go around my middle and she says "I will have to sew two grass skirts together for her - I don't have one large enough"

I hear all the girls laughing and tears fall down my face. I jump off the box and run outside the dance studio.

Miss Connie, my dance teacher, comes after me. She holds me until my Mommy comes for me. I feel so sad and hurt.

Then, at the recital, I get to do the last dance with Miss Connie on stage - she says I am the best and most beautiful dancer in the class. The other girls aren't laughing at me now.

My entry is from a time when I was fifteen months old. My father left home for a year when I was three months old. He had traveled around the world by himself, leaving my mother home with me, and my two older siblings who were nine and ten when he left. My earliest memory is of his homecoming:

Mommy moved my crib into the big kids’ room. Maybe she will move it back in her room when she’s done vacuuming. I stay on the couch when she vacuums. I even jumped on the couch and she doesn’t get mad cause she so ‘cited. My brother and sister are ‘cited, too. They say Daddy is coming home. I don’t know what that means but it makes me feel ‘cited too. I sing and it sounds good with the vacuum.

Mommy says don’t take my toys out now. The ‘partment’s all clean. I run up and down the long hall in my black shiny shoes. They make a good noise on the wood floor. Mommy is cooking food and I smell it. It makes me hungry be we can't eat til Daddy comes home. That's what she said. I sing a song about Daddy coming home. 

A man comes to the door.

He doesn’t ring the bell, he just comes in.

I stop singing. 

He’s very tall.

I stand behind Mommy.

Mommy hugs the man. My sister and brother hug him, too and Mommy wants me to hug him but I stay hidden behind her. I hang tight to her leg, and look at my shiny shoes.

The man is pulling me off of Mommy’s leg. He’s very strong. I squirm to get away, but he picks me up anyway. I yell and squirm. His face is very close to mine. He is smiling but I’m afraid.

I want my Mommy.

I start to cry.

The man looks angry. He puts me down and lets go fast. 

I fall with a thump on my bottom. I reach up for Mommy to pick me up.

She is looking at the man and doesn't see me.

 *****

Thanks, Gail, for your submission!

There won't be a writing exercise this coming weekend, but I will return to it the following week (June 26th).

Off now to do Wedding errands... what an exciting week!

Earliest Memory Writing Exercise

I'm excited about this week's exercise! The assignment is to write about your earliest memory, and this exercise calls for you to write in first person and present tense. So, if your memory comes from age three, you should write it from the perspective of a three year old telling you what they are doing right now.

Example: I'm going downstairs to find my tricycle. Mommy is holding my hand. I'm glad because I don't like going down these stairs by myself.

Writing a memory in present tense can be a very powerful experience. Sometimes, I've found that I relive the emotions attached the memory, so be prepared for this possibility. I've also found that processing memories in this way helps me not only identify but also move through the emotions from the past. One of the most interesting thing I've found about processing old memories in any way is that while the memory itself becomes more ingrained, it helps to dissolve the negative emotions (fear, anger, shame) and at the same time strengthen the positive ones (like connection, love, pride). I believe it comes from experiencing the child-emotions in an adult way, but that is only my own thoughts.

I hope you enjoy this week's exercise. Post your submission in the comments. I will remove the comments as they come in, and then put up all submissions along with minei, n a new post, on Tuesday.

*****

Interesting link for those with DID:
Brain Differences in DID/MPD patients
Any idea what the implications are?

writing Exercise Submissions - Relationship Comparison

This week's writing suggestion was a little complicated. Maybe that's why there was only one submission, besides mine. Thank you Menancy for posting your well-though-out submission.

This exercise was to be done in two parts - the first part was to be written before seeing what part two would bring. I found this somewhere on the web about a week ago, and that's when I wrote mine.

Part one is to write  about another person. It could be anyone as long as it's someone who is in your life right now. This should only be one to three paragraphs long, and should include your first impression of the person -  what drew you to this relationship in the first place as well as how the person makes you feel, now. Also include defining traits about the person - physical, emotional, spiritual, mental - and any little quirks that stand out.

Part two: Using what you wrote in the first part, compare the other person to yourself. Looking at the traits you listed, are there any traits you have in common? Are there any which you wish you had? Are there any which you used to have but don't anymore - and are these things you miss or are glad you've overcome? Has anything rubbed off from them to you, or from you to them?

The idea is to look at how your relationships help you grow. There is a school of thought that each relationship we have is there for a purpose, that we are constantly learning and teaching important lessons in every ongoing relationship. People come into our lives and some stay for a brief time, others stay for a long time, but always, there is a reason. What lessons are you learning and teaching in the relationship with the person you chose? Are you allowing the lesson to unfold or walking through life without noticing the important things going on around you?

Here is Menancy's submission:

My first impression: I thought this person was nice enough, but a little ‘flaky’, off the wall. It was hard to know exactly from where they were coming. I thought they like to talk a lot. At the same time, the advice made sense and seemed the right thing to do.

What drew me to the relationship: Well, the first time I saw her was with my husband to learn to parent an “adult child”. Of course, going together did not last, because there is “nothing wrong with him and he does not need help.” So, I continued to go. And I started talking about myself and some of my problems. I don’t know…I just kept going back. I was afraid. I did not want to trust another therapist again. It was like she “knew” me. She was very knowledgeable in many aspects of healing. She was/is intriguing. She is of Native American Heritage. She has been through a lot of pain.

How I feel now: I grew to trust her enough to stop seeing my other therapist. I still vacillate between trusting and not trusting. However, I have not been seeing her for that long and it surprises me that I trust her as much as I do. She believes that we all have different parts of the self. She has done a lot of work on her own issues, especially in psychodrama. I admire her tenacity. She is truly a “Warrior”. She is a very strong advocate for ALL women.

COMPARISON: Well, now here is a surprise!! I am certainly a little ‘flaky’ and off the wall. I too believe that we have different parts of the self. I have done twenty two years of therapy, so I have worked a lot on my issues also.

There are so many characteristics I admire in her and would love to have just a few of them. She is self-sufficient. She supports herself now. She is creating a new life for herself, without her husband. She is not afraid to be her own person. She tells it like it is.

Because of her situation (which I cannot divulge) I was able to ask forgiveness from her for things in the past that I could not go back and ask for from the people that I had covertly hurt. This touched her more than I ever would have imagined. Her eyes had tears in them. She thanked me and told me that I was wise and that “I got it”. Me--wise? Unimaginable!!!

I have allowed her to open my mind about so many different philosophies and healing techniques. The list seems endless!

Wow Shen, this was awesome. Thank you so much. An eye-opener for me!!!!

(You are so welcome, and I'm really glad if it was helpful :-))

And here is my submission. (I doubt it’s a surprise to anyone here that I chose C for this writing exercise.)

Part One:

My first impression of her:

She was both strong and gentle. She was confident, but far from arrogant. She was several inches shorter and about ten years older than I am. She also exuded empathy. This was almost too much for me… almost. For someone like me who has a hard time trusting, that kind of sympathetic attention was overwhelming, at first, but this is also a big piece of what kept me coming back. The other thing that most impressed me was her stillness. I’ve rarely been in close contact with someone who can be so calm. She listened intently, with interest, seeming to hear every word I said.

Now, I still feel heard, but I also feel known, understood and safe because I know her. I feel as if I can handle things because I know I don’t have to do them alone until I’m ready. I have come to understand that the stillness comes from her strong spiritual connection. She seems to be connected all the time, which is something I’m learning from being with her.

In thinking about quirks, two things come to mind. I smile as I picture her pulling her large bag behind her. She has one of those bags on wheels and it’s always overflowing with stuff. Sometimes she has cut flowers from her garden on top, or fruit or a plastic bottle of some kind of healthy beverage. The other thing is her sudden laugh, which has surprised me on more than one occasion.

 Part Two:

Wow, this is going to be hard.

Strong but gentle? Yes. I think I am those things. I can be very strong when I need to be – I’ve gone through some tough stuff and I can be strong, but I think I’m also gentle.

Confident? Not so much… although that is getting better.

As I said, I’m much taller than she is.

I think of myself as being sympathetic.

I can be a good listener, but only when I’m not lost in my own stuff. I would like to be more like her in that sense.

The stillness… that is something I’m working towards, but I don’t believe I can claim that trait as mine.

What of mine has rubbed off on her? That’s hard. I know there are things I’ve written which she has asked to give to other clients… I doubt it is anything new to her, but sometimes I can say things in a way that makes it understood. Once, she gave me something I’d written about a year earlier. That was funny. She said she didn’t remember where she got it but she thought it would help me. It was the piece I wrote called “Step Zero”. I looked at it and told her I’d written something by that name, once… and then I said, “This is it.”

But a lot of her is rubbing off on me. I have gained so much from her, but the biggest piece is the spiritual one. While I needed (and still need) a lot of help getting through my issues from the past, the biggest gift she’s given me is letting me understand that God is not just for other people. I didn’t believe that… I really thought it was not for me, and knowing it’s okay to have that connection and that it’s always there has changed my perception of just about everything.

*****

Whew, I got it posted before Tuesday is over. I'm going to be back to more regular blogging soon. The wedding countdown is at eleven days... after that, I should have more time to focus on all the things I've been putting off.

Another Writing Exercise

Things are busy and there is chaos around me and inside me, but I'm making it through. My daughter's wedding is less than two weeks away now and I've gotten to the dreaded part which I was hoping I would not get to - the place where I know I will be glad when it's over. I'm sure it will be fun and emotional and memorable but also just more than I can take in a lot of ways. I am working to get to a place where I don't get so emotionally overwhelmed.

I have asked C if I can get any extra appointments in the next couple of weeks. I know I could use them. She's so busy now that I hate to even ask because I have such a feeling of rejection when she tells me she doesn't have anything open, and that's the answer I've gotten each time I've asked in the last several months.

But I asked anyway, so I guess I'll see what comes of it.

Regardless of all the rest, I am going to post a writing assignment today. It's something I came across on a website a couple of weeks ago, and I couldn't even tell you where I saw it anymore, but it stuck in my mind... and so here it is.


Part One of this week's assignment is to write  about another person. This can be anyone you actually know - a relative, a friend, a teacher, a co-worker, a spiritual advisor or guide (Minister, Rabbi, Shaman, etc.) a therapist, sponsor, or life coach, or anyone else as long as it is someone who is in your life right now.

This should only be one to three paragraphs long. Include your first impression of the person -  what drew you to this relationship in the first place as well as how the person makes you feel, now. Also include defining traits about the person - physical, emotional, spiritual, mental - and any little quirks that stand out.

Write this part of the assignment before reading the second part. No cheating! It will take the fun out of it if you read ahead, so go write!





Part Two:





Using what you wrote in the first part, compare the other person to yourself. Looking at the traits you listed, are there any traits you have in common? Are there any which you wish you had? Are there any which you used to have but don't anymore - and are these things you miss or are glad you've overcome? Has anything rubbed off from them to you, or from you to them?


The idea is to look at how your relationships help you grow. There is a school of thought that each relationship we have is there for a purpose, that we are constantly learning and teaching important lessons in every ongoing relationship. People come into our lives and some stay for a brief time, others stay for a long time, but always, there is a reason. What lessons are you learning and teaching in the relationship with the person you chose? Are you allowing the lesson to unfold or walking through life without noticing the important things going on around you?

Have fun! I can't wait to read them... Post your responses in the comments. I will remove them and post all submissions in a new post on Tuesday.

Buzzword Writing Exercise Submissions

I was struggling yesterday, and so I didn't get a post up. I'm still struggling but I'm making myself do what I need to do, so that's an improvement. There are still things I'm avoiding and I still feel very overwhelmed, but the hopelessness is a little less intense, today.


Anyway, Here are the submissions to Sunday's writing exercise. The assignment was:

Think about what you are most striving to learn, do, complete, or accomplish, at this time of your life. It can be a life-long goal or a simple daily task. Come up with a word or short phrase to sum this up. This word or phrase becomes your “Buzz Word.” Write the “buzz word” on a piece of paper. Next, write one sentence beginning with each letter in your "buzz word".

And here are the submissions:




ClinicallyClueless said: "Here is a quick one on my goal of becoming a psychologist."

Prepare for GRE
Stay focused on my goal to earn my doctorate
Yes, I can!! Yes, I will!!
Choose to just be me
Husband and my therapist are 100% behind me
Other people's responses are not a relection of my self worth
Let go of eating disorder
Other people's responses are not a refection of my ability to succeed
Gary, my T, believes that I will sail through school and make a great psychologist
Increase my EGO strength
Stay committed to therapy and getting better
Therapy will help me meet my goal

Gail chose SELF PRESERVE as her buzz word.

S - IT IS IMPORTANT TOS TAY TRUE TO MY VALUES
E - EXERCISE IS FREEING AND REMINDS ME OF MY STRENGTH
L - LAUGHTER IS A MUCH NEEDED EXPERIENCE AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE
F - FORGIVENESS IS CLEANSING AND LIFTS BURDEN AND BAGGAGE
P - PRAYING IS HUMBLING AS IT TESTS FAITH AND PATIENCE
R - REMEMBERING DAYS GONE BY IS BITTERSWEET
E - EXCITEMENT FOR LIFE IS A REAL MOOD UPLIFTER.
S - SADNESS IS A PART OF LIFE. IT ENHANCES THE HAPPIER TIMES.
E - ENERGY EBBS AND FLOWS.
R - RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS DO MATTER
V - VACATION FROM ROUTINES HELP RESTORE BALANCE AND SANITY
E - EVERY DAY IS AN OPPORTUNITY TO LOVE, AND LOVE MORE.

Dawn said, "I was kind of stretching it a bit finding a word to begin some of my sentences!" (I hear that, Dawn! It wasn't easy...  but it seems you did very well.) Her buzz word is PHOTOGRAPHY
Photos, as a means of expressing oneself, has always fascinated me.
However, I have never explored this interest much.
Opening my camera's manual and studying it would help!
Taking a photography class is something I would like to do.
Often, I look to nature for inspiration.
Good photos are sometimes subjective to a person's interest.
Recognizing what makes a good photograph is something I would like to learn.
Attracting people's interest in my photographs would be cool.
Panoramic photos are interesting to me.
Hopefully I'll make the time to explore this interest.
Yellow is a pretty color in photographs.

Desiree  had a free-and-easy approach to this exercise. (I love that - nice when we can cut loose and have fun). She decided to use Buzzword as her buzzword, only she did it backwards. Here's her explanation and submission:

"OK, Shen! Slept on it...still BLANK! So, what does that mean? I am a 56 year old woman, living my life without a BUZZ WORD! Does this mean I'm directionless? (OK, I just used the 'd' in "word"...perhaps I'll continue in this vein, going backwards through the letters that make up buzz word...my word can be "drow zzub" :) So, continuing now, with 'r'...am I guilty of...
Rarely taking the time to ponder my situation?
Or am I so caught up in the moment, that I give little thought to yesterday or tomorrow?
Would that seem to be a good enough explanation?
Cheating now, I'm combining the two 'z's...ZZ is an acronymn for sleep...perhaps I'm passing through life too drowsily?
Until you prodded me into being aware?
Bingo! That's it...I need to make time to focus on the areas I still need to develop! :)

Although this started out as a bit tongue-in-cheek, Shen, it seems the old saying 'never a truer word than one spoken in jest' may well apply! I really did try to come up with something profound and meaningful to dispel any notions that I might just be simple-minded, but at the moment, my days are taken up with puppies and I don't seem able to think beyond their next meal or my next trip into the garden to clean up after them ;)

Maybe this was my 'wakeup call' to remind me that I need to be more balanced? Not to become so immersed in the here and now, but stretch my mind to think about what comes afterwards? After all, these puppies are going to grow up, just as my children did and then I have to find other things to fill the gaps...I think you've got me on to something here, Shen ;
Either way, I had fun not complying strictly with the rules of this exercise!

From middle child I received this submission about the Buzzword Clean house.

Cancel extra magazines.
Learn to keep busy.
Eat three meals a day.
Appreciate what I have.
Notice how good I feel when something is clean.

Honor my husband by keeping a nice house.
Observe his reaction to what I have done.
Understand that this mess depresses me.
Serve the Lord with gladness.
Enter into a clean home.

And finally, here's mine. Originally, I was going to write about Forgiveness. I even had it roughed out, but I felt like shifting that just a little bit to “self forgiveness” because of how this week has gone.

Shame is an out-of-control vehicle with no one at the wheel.

Erratically, it overwhelms me and sweeps me away.

Love myself?

Fear and anger come together.

Floundering, I think about how easy it is to be gentle when it’s someone else.

Overwhelming hopelessness, a traveling companion I thought I’d left behind, once again joins the wild ride.

Reaching out to others for help, I await responses I can already predict.

Giving in to worthlessness is more than I can stand, so I hide from it all.

I need to do something, but I can’t make myself do anything.

Vacantl.y I check my email, again and again and again.

Eventually, gentle replies appear but they can't ease the angst.

Nothing seems to help.

Each word and phrase I read I could have written myself because I've had the answer all along.

Sneaking a look at the little child inside, I know she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.

Slowly, I acknowledge the truth: Accepting all that I am is the only escape.

That's it for this week. Thank you all for the great submissions - wonderful distractions and each one a reflection of an individual I feel privileged to know.

I have a lot of other stuff I want to post... but I haven't been very productive this week. It's bound to get better.

Sunday's Writing Exercise: Buzz Word

It's Sunday, again! Here's this week's writing exercise:

Think about what you are most striving to learn, do, complete, or accomplish, at this time of your life. It can be a life-long goal or a simple daily task. What one word or short phrase best describes this important part of your life? This word or phrase becomes your “Buzz Word.”

Write the “buzz word” on a piece of paper. Next, write one sentence beginning with each letter in your "buzz word". For instance, if you were to write, “Learn to Cook”, you would have a total of eleven sentences. The first one might be “Learning to prepare better meals for my family is really important to me.” The second one might be, “Every day I struggle with what to make for dinner.” The third could be, “An important aspect of this is the sense of accomplishment I get when I can put a meal in front of my kids that they’ll actually eat.”

The fourth sentence would start with R, the fifth with N and the sixth with T… and so on.

One thing I’ve found in attempting this exercise is that in putting a restraint on the words I can use, I’m more aware of what I want to convey. Maybe it’s just that I have to think more about how to construct the sentence in a way that works, or maybe my mind is actually more able to let the other thoughts come through when I’m not focused on them so directly.

Entries can be made by submitting your writing in a comment to this post. I'll delete the comments and put them all up together in another post on Tuesday.

I hope you can have some fun with it!

Writing Exercise: The Golden Key

As you may have noticed, I never got a writing exercise up yesterday. I had such a nice Mother's Day I just never had time to stop in here. I hope you also enjoyed a lovely weekend.

Most likely, if you grew up in an English-speaking country, you've heard of Grimm's Fairy Tales. In fact, a little research just informed me that the stories written by the brothers Grimm (and by others using the famous name, later,) are now read and enjoyed in over 160 languages.

It's widely known that the many of the stories the brothers wrote were already in circulation through word-of-mouth, in one form or another. One such story is The Golden Key.

This story has bothered me since the first time I came across it. Apparently the story came to the brothers Grimm from a German story. In that story, a small piece of red fur is found in a treasure chest, and very abruptly, the story ends there with the line, "If the piece of fur had been any longer, this story would have been." How frustrating for a child to have such an engaging start end with such suddenness!

So - here is the Grimm version of the story. My request for this week is to write a proper ending for this enchanting start:

The Golden Key

In the winter time, when deep snow lay on the ground, a poor boy was forced to go out to fetch wood.  When he had gathered it together, and packed it, he wished, as he was so frozen with cold, not to go home at once, but to light a fire and warm himself a little.

So he scraped away the snow, and as he was clearing the ground for the fire he found a tiny golden key.  Hereupon he thought that where the key was, the lock must be also, and dug in the ground until he found an iron chest.

 "If the key does but fit it!"  thought he; "no doubt there are precious things in that little box." 

He searched, but no keyhole was there.  At last he discovered one, but so small that it was hardly visible.  He tried it, and was very surprised when the key fitted it exactly.

 The next (and final) line, as it stands, says simply that wonderful things were found in the box. Nothing more. That, in my opinion, is no way to end a story!

Where does your imagination take you? What does he find in the box? Try to keep your answer under two hundred words, and post it as a comment (which I will remove when I see it). I'll post the submissions on Wed, this week, since I am posting this so late.

Eight Word Poetry

This week's writing exercise was to write eight word poems. inspired by three images. I thought this was really a fun one, and the entries were all great to read. Some were more like poignant captions, others were poetic snippets.

Here are the results: 

Mama's here
My son.
Always near
Sleepy one.
~Dawn


Sad baby.
Afghan.
 Needs love.
Looks sick.
Hug.   

~Middle Child

It's just not fair,
 I'm still so small!

~Desiree

Mommy,
Where are you
I need you.

~Interruption

I really don't like waiting for my food.
~Gail


Sometimes life is expressed in tears.
I'm alive.
~Shen

Emotions weathered.
I don't belong.
Trapped and tethered.
~Dawn


 Reindeer by water.
Where did you come from?  

~Middle Child

No one told me about beaches back home!

~Desiree

Misplaced,
Lost,
Sacrifice,
Run you are in danger.
~Interruption

How the heck did I end up here?
~Gail


Wait...
What's this? 
Santa?
This snow is hot!
~Shen

Spirits soar,

Carefree fun,

Simple times

Being young.

 ~Dawn

 Jump into the desert.
Don't fall off.
Bounce.

~Middle Child

See me jump.

This is so much fun!

~Desiree

Which one of you 'innocents' is the prisoner?
~Interruption


I hope I don't bounce off this trampolene.
~Gail


Interested
Invited
Included
Joining in
Jumping high
Joyful
~Shen

Eight Word Poem

This week's writing prompt: Look at the images below (one at a time) and grab the first thing that comes to mind when you see them. Write your thoughts and feelings for each of the three images, using only eight words for each one.

1

2

3

I'll post my reactions and yours, on Tuesday

Writing Excercise Submissions: Animal Stories

This week's writing suggestion was in honor of my black lab, Jake, who met his end this past Saturday. I asked to hear stories of how an animal has changed your life.


Submitted by Desiree:

My obvious choice would have been to write about Romeo, since it's only been a week and a bit since we lost him. However, as he was really my daughter's pup, I am rather going to write about Tessa, who we had to have euthenased a year ago (May 5th 2010).

Every single dog we've had the privilege of sharing our lives with has been special. Each, totally unique. Each, irreplacable. Tessa, however, possessed something even more profound in her makeup. In every way, she was the very best of everything 'human' We could see her thinking things through! She really understood! Her eyes were deep pools of love and she held you with her gaze. She was a large German Shepherd and was an outstanding guard dog, but, to us, she was as placid as a kitten. She was exceptionally gentle and trusting and never ever snapped or snarled at us, or grabbed anything we offered her. I trusted her with my life.

She took on the role of foster mother to both Bonny (now 10) and Heathcliff (now 6), raising them as though they were her own pups. She shepherded and watched them closely through to adulthood and beyond. In return they both loved her and bowed to her authority. We found this remarkable, because when we got her as a puppy, our then German Shepherd (also spayed, bitch) Ziggy who was 7 at the time, wanted to have nothing to do with her! They eventually became good friends, but Ziggy really gave Tessa a raw deal as a puppy.

Tessa, on the other hand, was quite amazing. She taught the others to play with a ball, she showed endless patience playing tug the rope with them and allowed them to cuddle and snuggle to their heart's content. When they were doing anything not permissible, she would growl at them or nudge them away and they'd learn so quickly from her. We were constantly marvelling at how much she taught them and how fair she was with them. She really doted on them and always wore what can only be described as the most beautiful smile. The only time she 'sulked' was when we went out and left them behind. Then she would truly give us the cold shoulder and turn her gaze away from us. She forgave us instantly when we returned though and always held up a paw in greeting. She used to sit just like a human, with her bum on the top step and her back legs sticking out from underneath, while she supported herself firmly with her front legs on the step below.

She loved her meals, her bath time, being brushed and petted. She loved being in the garden, smelling the flowers, watching the birds, bees and bugs...truly! She was like putty in our hands despite her size and strength and yet, in an instant, she could turn into a fierce looking guard dog if anyone came near our gate. She was regarded with respect by all who met her and she was extemely discerning when it came to choosing who she felt worthy of befriending. Some were accepted quite quickly, whilst others were never accepted by her and we always said she knew who could be trusted. I reckon she was spot on every time, too!

When I was sad, she would come over and nuzzle me and stay firmly by my side. We spent lots of time gardening together. She was always with me and always made me feel so very safe. Sadly, she suffered a stroke and was unable to move on her final day with us. We had to allow her to be put out of her suffering and insisted our vet come to the house so we could let her go in her own familiar environment with us right beside her. It was one of the hardest things we'd had to do, but we knew that it was the kindest thing we could do for her at that stage. I truly thought I'd never recover from the shock of losing her (she was 12.5 years), but we had no option but to move on for the sake of Bonny and Heathcliff, who were also grieving. We got Toby, another German Shepherd (our first male Shepherd) the same week Tessa died and knew she would have approved. Raising Toby helped us come to terms with her death and helped Bonny and Heathcliff over their own grief.

As with Ziggy, we had Tessa cremated and both of their ashes were scattered in the raised flowerbed beside our frontdoor. The plants grow lush and are permanent fixtures reminding us daily of our two wonderful, irreplacable dogs.

*****

Submitted by Ivory:

I had a small gray poodle. Nickie was a lively, ball-chasing crazy dog - and she loved me. During some of my darkest hours, she would jump onto my lap and lay her head on my chest and look into my face as if she wanted to console me. She would do anything for me, including allowing our cockatiel to climb up and preen on her back as she lay snoozing in front of the heater vent. She also climbed up onto the back of my chair one evening and lay her head on my shoulder and watched me crying as I tried desperately to keep her newborn tiny puppy alive. Nickie taught me what my mother did not: complete and unconditional acceptance and love.

*****

Submitted by Paul:

When I was about 10, I did not have much going on that was positive in my life. But one day I found this abandoned kitten. A tabby. Perhaps he (or she) was not a kitten. He was a bit older than a kitten. But I never really had any contact with cats before so I did not know what to make of him.

It was as if everything in my life had changed. Immediately I knew I wanted to keep him in secret. So, I stowed him away under our back porch and snuck money from where my Dad kept his wallet, walked to the store, and bought cat food.

This went on for days. It was a very new feeling for me to know what it was like to care for another being. And care for that kitten I did. I cannot remember for how long I cared for him. I think it was only a few days. And I do not remember too much about it all, only that I know it was hugely important for me.

Here is where my memory becomes rather vague. One day I came home from school and the kitten was gone. I cannot remember what my mother told me. I think she either told me he ran away or that his owner came to retrieve him.

I wish I could tell you how I felt. I would like to think I was devastated. But I cannot remember. The memory is too faded or has always been too compartmentalized.

At some point, and this is also not very clear, I think many years later, I asked my mother about that cat. I seem to recall that she confided in me that the kitten escaped and got run over by a car in front of our house. I seem to remember this because she made it clear that she was worried that I would come home from school before the animal control officer came to remove it. Yet again, my reaction is not known to me.

I only have the vaguest sense that it was very important to me. He was my kitten. My life was changed. It was all better. Then that was taken away.

*****

And my entry, which I'm only writing now because something interesting happened this morning. I opened the deck door and stepped outside. Bonnie and Clyde, three-year-old beagle/terrier mix siblings, ran across the wood and leaped over the steps to the yard, in their usual, playful race. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smell of the imminent Spring shower and the warm breeze on my face.

What happened next seems, for wont of a better word, miraculous. I didn't try to visualize anything, so what I saw came as a surprise.

Behind my closed eyes, I saw Jake and he was in a full-out run. He was moving through a high, green field near a rushing stream. He splashed into the water, swam a bit in it's depths, and then climbed easily onto the bank. A cloud of droplets flew from him as he shook off the water with mighty strength. His tail wagged in a way I haven't seen in far too long.

His mouth was open, his tongue out. He looked at me with bright eyes and a joy that came to me in waves, engulfing me.

When I opened my eyes, I had tears on my face.

I want to believe it's real. I want to believe this vision came to me from a place where he can run boundlessly without fatigue or pain . So many times in the last six or eight months I've seen his legs moving in a stiff running motion while he slept the last of his life away. I know this is what he wanted more than anything. Please, let it be true.

Writing Exercise - Finish This Story

For this week's writing exercise, I wrote the beginning of a story and those who felt so inclined wrote then ending.

I got four submissions and I was blown away! These are really fun to read - hope you enjoy them, too.

Here is the beginning of the story:

I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I opened the front door. I was heading outside to retrieve the newspaper, hoping that this would be the day I wouldn't have to pull it out of the flower bed next to the driveway. The sun was still low in the sky, so I squinted as I searched with my eyes.

Ah, good! It's Right on the edge of the pavement.

Luckily, I looked down at the stoop before stepping outside. There, right where I was about to step, was a small, red, paper bag. I shifted my footing and then squatted down to look at it more closely.

The top was stapled shut and a note, written in red ink on a 3x5 index card, was taped to the side.

And the four endings, in the order they were received:

Submitted by Gail:

........at first I thought it was an anthrax thing or some other terrorist threat via a bag of whatever. I quickly dismissed that as I did a sort of reality check where-in I thought, who would send anthrax to me in a brown paper bag with a note on an index card?

Duh, no-one!

I stared at the bag, and saw that the name on the outside said -Gail-Anne', few people referred to me that way, and one in particular I had searched for and longed for, for many a year. She was my best friend, I loved her truly and we survived a war of all wars 17 years ago as victims of the church leaders and their betrayals of all things sacred. It was the only time in my life I ever thought I could "be" with a woman as my life's partner and we loved each other so much.

At the end of the saga of betrayals she simply left and never looked back - never said goodbye she was just gone. I ached for a long time. As time passed I began to look for her and eventually, via all the social networks found her and emailed her, she did not reply. A few years later, I emailed again, and after several more years and one more email she replied. It didn't resolve much although she finally said she was sorry for leaving as she did and for hurting me but it was the only way she could deal with all that happened. I begged her to meet with me but she refused.

I looked at the brown paper bag and in my heart I knew it was her. I picked the bag and held it. I stared at my name "Gail-Anne" and gently pulled apart the stapled bag. Inside was an envelope, plain white - sealed - I pulled it out and opened it. A few words on un-lined paper "please meet me at our spot, this Friday at 6:00 - bring cigarettes" Love, Janet-Marie.

I sunk to the ground sobbing - a flood of emotion rushed in and I felt all the love again - I began to cry and sob uncontrollably.

And so the day came, I brought cigarettes and coffee too, I went to our spot on the hospital grounds - I saw her so small and fragile in the car. I got out and leaned on her door - I felt the window come down and her hand touched my side - she began to squeeze and grab - I backed away and opened her door - she leaped out and fell in to me and I In to her - it was invasive and desperate and long over due...... we held on for dear life. I had the bag in my pocket, I reached back and pulled it out and said - "I got your note"....we both laughed heartily and leaned back on to the car and lit a cigarette..................and just smiled, each with a tear rolling down our faces for all that was........

Submitted by Middle Child:

Red. My favorite color. Something about this unsettled me.

I picked up the bag and also retrieved my paper. Inside, I went to the kitchen, opened the blinds and grabbed a cup of coffee. Staring at the bag on the table, I thought I noticed a faint, familiar scent. Couldn't quite put my finger on what it was exactly, but I liked it. Then there was the way my name was written on the card. It sent chills down my spine.

I went out to the patio to have a smoke and try to get my emotions under control. Breathing deeply of the sea air, I looked out into the horizon. No one ever understood how I could bear living here. It is too sad, they said. You cannot heal here. I could not tell them they knew nothing of love. I have lived here for 35 years and I can't imagine living anywhere else. I have my writing and my two pups. Enough, I said to myself.

My curiosity overcame my fear so I went inside to open the bag. Inside was a tiny plain box. My hands shook as I removed it from the bag. I took a deep breath and opened it.

I froze in amazement. Picking up the tiny gold ring I was thinking....it couldn't be. Thirty-five years ago -to the day-I had lost it and my new husband when our boat capsized out in the lake. I couldn't entertain the thought that it might be a prank but still, I needed to be sure. I looked inside the simple band and there was the inscription, "Always"

Submitted by Life of a Middle Aged Student:

My heart fluttered as I slowly bent down to pick up the paper bag, I had no idea who would have left something for me, other then the person who delivered my paper or the mail person. I wanted this moment to last for as long as I could, so I decided that I would open the bag before seeing what was written on the card.

Ever so gently I pulled the staples out of the bag and slowly separated the sides of the bag. Inside I could see the one Beany Baby that I had always wanted, the angel one with the halo. Within an instant my sister came to my mind, but just as quick as her face came to my mind, is when I remembered that it would have been her 50th birthday.

A tear appeared just as the memory of her passing had. Now curiosity hit me hard, because I thought she was the only person who would have known I always wanted that Beany Baby. Now having that urge to know, I quickly remembered that card that was attached and turned the bag so as I could read it. In my sister's hand writing it said, "Though it is my birthday, I know you would have wanted to be with me, but I have sent this bear to you, to let you know, I am here and always will be."

With tears running down my face so hard and fierce I turned the card over and in her writing was this message. "Make sure this is delivered on my birthday (date inserted here) to the one person who knew me best and loved me anyway." it was followed by my address.

Submitted by Desiree:

I had no idea who had left the package on my doorstep, or if it was meant for me, so, stooping low I picked it up. I wasn't wearing my reading glasses and couldn't make out the message. I placed it carefully on the patio table before retracing my steps back inside to collect my specs. I thought I'd grab my coffee at the same time, then I could sip it while reading the newspaper headlines and examining the contents of the little red package.

The message on the card attached to the outside was simple: "Pay it forward!" it said. Huh? What did that mean I wondered, as I gingerly undid the staples and peeped inside.
There was a beautiful, handmade, gossamer teabag filled with an assortment of dried leaves and flowers. I smelt it. Gorgeous! Jasmine, rose, orange blossom and subtle herbal notes. Instead of a string tag, it was tied together with a pretty ribbon. There was something else inside the bag. Two delicious-looking homemade shortbread hearts with half of each side dipped in chocolate. These were tastefully wrapped in cellophane and tied with a piece of the same ribbon as the teabag. Still wondering what this could mean, I tipped the bag upside down and a sprinkling of little hearts, and dainty butterfly and bird shapes fluttered lightly on to the table like confetti. There was also a little handwritten note instructing me to make a cup of tea, in my favourite china and to sip it slowly, savouring all the fragrances while nibbling slowly on the two biscuits. The note told me to imagine myself enveloped by love and to do one unsolicited kindness for a stranger within the next day or two in order to "Pay it forward!"

*****

I have some more writing to do, myself, now. Two things have been going on in my life which are making me fairly crazy, at the moment. (making me crazy is a turn of phrase some might use with much less truth)

So - I will likely be putting up another post, in a little while.

Thanks again to those who participated. I needed a distraction this week and you provided a wonderful one!