tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4881107669536029052024-03-05T17:10:27.840+00:00Brighter Mind Brighter LifeLife Lessons from a Self Help AddictAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-21361365190816866262016-03-24T14:22:00.000+00:002016-03-24T14:22:26.642+00:00Breathe<br />
"We're all going to die. We don't get much say over how or when. But we do get to decide how we're going to live.<br />
<br />
So do it. Decide. Is this the life you want to live? Is this the person you want to love? Is this the best you can be? Can you be stronger? Kinder? More compassionate?<br />
<br />
Decide. Breathe in. Breathe out. And decide."<br />
<br />
- extract from Grey's Anatomy<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nbVTZ4ZHQ223aWb29zVUgGr6ilwvO5r5OCU4lO03hKVdlSxibMmHrt_LuiynaQLZAMCNxyB6xWxW-XeeV7lLT7JAjf1PXI6mzJrtksKAjuasrWkDZvR2aN6y6Fuxr_SLIme5GDHwVI8/s1600/learning-to-breathe-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nbVTZ4ZHQ223aWb29zVUgGr6ilwvO5r5OCU4lO03hKVdlSxibMmHrt_LuiynaQLZAMCNxyB6xWxW-XeeV7lLT7JAjf1PXI6mzJrtksKAjuasrWkDZvR2aN6y6Fuxr_SLIme5GDHwVI8/s320/learning-to-breathe-pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-83939233824006149932016-03-24T13:33:00.000+00:002016-03-24T13:33:44.433+00:00I'm FINE<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><em>Definition of Fine: </em>F**ked Up. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional</strong>.</span><br />
<br />
I have realised that for most of my life I have been striving for perfection and have been constantly disappointed. I live in a world of 'it will be better when....' but even when 'when' comes over the horizon I have already moved on. I have spent my life telling people, and myself, that I am FINE, whilst thinking that fine wasn't a great state to be in.<br />
<br />
Until now. Because by accepting that f***ed up, insecure, neurotic and emotional is good enough, I feel a weight coming off me. <strong></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
I'm human!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wUbAzLqduTncw3sOyi_olkLunP-eSe4mNVAo9ZsqJonlNhP0l0l38RhuoP5EvaSvYVCWCcSnq4vUXEAnGliwrtseOL_CyR4qI6G1jdbSQQoQPle2i_98mmDiVudQZSS38qPwIt9gsys/s1600/Animal+I%2527m+fine+the+rest+of+you+need+therapy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wUbAzLqduTncw3sOyi_olkLunP-eSe4mNVAo9ZsqJonlNhP0l0l38RhuoP5EvaSvYVCWCcSnq4vUXEAnGliwrtseOL_CyR4qI6G1jdbSQQoQPle2i_98mmDiVudQZSS38qPwIt9gsys/s320/Animal+I%2527m+fine+the+rest+of+you+need+therapy+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-67122502888697495712016-03-24T13:08:00.000+00:002016-03-24T13:08:27.612+00:00Back to the futureYou may have noticed I haven't posted in a while - a long while in fact. This wasn't a conscious decision, but rather a change in circumstances which took me down a different path and disconnected me from my road less travelled. At the height of my blogging my unconscious mind was continually feeding me new titles and new content that I couldn't wait to share. Suddenly I had rejoined the old path where the road felt long and weary and the overgrowth cut out the light.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDaEQGXk5cCHDZ9ipRkG_cjNd3NJBYLZY2dmuTDY4tUK5YUcgnwvbdECh__L5fLv682P1WftkcCBy_4C6XQYFLslNVVWbiPO8CH0NpwbphpUMjvwYKZ23ug15QMa05-DYon04ezu_nvE/s1600/IMG_0307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDaEQGXk5cCHDZ9ipRkG_cjNd3NJBYLZY2dmuTDY4tUK5YUcgnwvbdECh__L5fLv682P1WftkcCBy_4C6XQYFLslNVVWbiPO8CH0NpwbphpUMjvwYKZ23ug15QMa05-DYon04ezu_nvE/s320/IMG_0307.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
But enough is enough. The universe is conspiring once again to push me towards the light of my own path and I'm feeling inspired. I'm lacing up my boots, gripping my walking poles and stepping back to the future with new insights and new learnings. <br />
<br />
It's good to be back.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-0ywUnSe76YiM-T4-63sQ7H2VBqFFX4iT27K7V9DKUb9lEKQkckyRWWN-hiMWr89tAUNjk3zQZL8ZfXgxmrEd1oyVMsuzLKLpaHPajKe6guZhlLN2HcRZvPMy40-M8cpJ-JxMhS1Hc0/s1600/tree-in-field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="92" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH-0ywUnSe76YiM-T4-63sQ7H2VBqFFX4iT27K7V9DKUb9lEKQkckyRWWN-hiMWr89tAUNjk3zQZL8ZfXgxmrEd1oyVMsuzLKLpaHPajKe6guZhlLN2HcRZvPMy40-M8cpJ-JxMhS1Hc0/s640/tree-in-field.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-29958707261255324552011-11-14T16:19:00.000+00:002011-11-14T16:19:15.190+00:00Who am I?<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">I am your greatest companion. I am your greatest helper or heaviest burden. I will push you onwards or drag you down to failure. I am completely at your command. Half the things you do you might just as well as turn over to me and I will be able to do them quickly and correctly.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">I am easily managed - you must merely be firm with me. Show me exactly how you want something done and after a few lessons I will do it automatically. I am the servant of all great individuals and, alas, of all failures as well. Those who are great, I have made great. Those who are failures, I have made failures.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">I am not a machine, though I work with all the precision of a machine plus the intelligence of a human. You may run me for profit or run me for ruin - it makes no difference to me.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">Take me, train me, be firm with me, and I will place the world at your feet. Be easy with me and I will destroy you.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Who am I?</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">I am Habit.</span></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVz0s-9ASdo_RmkHqkLmBRM3jplCsanjFTa3j7Q5KPpJ9Xp5xxSxSpCTEU2G4M5O1E-aRX3VpQEO2ZoNPt9HfpZqTN5xM3vqQRXFqfsk0p7I2sTb7XqqV2HWIr-svYXLzqkgty7Ub3yc8/s1600/BrighterMind_247-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVz0s-9ASdo_RmkHqkLmBRM3jplCsanjFTa3j7Q5KPpJ9Xp5xxSxSpCTEU2G4M5O1E-aRX3VpQEO2ZoNPt9HfpZqTN5xM3vqQRXFqfsk0p7I2sTb7XqqV2HWIr-svYXLzqkgty7Ub3yc8/s320/BrighterMind_247-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-84011439569635234022011-10-26T12:51:00.002+01:002011-10-26T12:55:40.730+01:00Life should NOT be ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><blockquote class="tr_bq"><blockquote class="tr_bq"><div><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">... a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - glass of Sauvignon Blanc in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming</span> </span></blockquote><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;"><strong>WOO-HOO, what a ride!!!!</strong></span></div></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinntiqMCw37kg806z9u4X1UHsc4Q9hh1KSK4IH9s58VuFg9-kkZTQCYZ5izqaoBpDxiNXNDZQq6Lq-F1FU82wd4I0eedmd5KZgJL7hRc3Gb4LqP0m8408rdQtAXerDKm7EExO2Bdp5Ow4/s1600/Sliding-Down-the-Banister-penguins-of-madagascar-19231377-794-579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinntiqMCw37kg806z9u4X1UHsc4Q9hh1KSK4IH9s58VuFg9-kkZTQCYZ5izqaoBpDxiNXNDZQq6Lq-F1FU82wd4I0eedmd5KZgJL7hRc3Gb4LqP0m8408rdQtAXerDKm7EExO2Bdp5Ow4/s400/Sliding-Down-the-Banister-penguins-of-madagascar-19231377-794-579.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0Edinburgh EH2 3JP, UK55.9535472 -3.202516800000012255.9508622 -3.2083028000000122 55.9562322 -3.1967308000000121tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-24458993261880559432011-09-23T16:03:00.000+01:002011-09-23T16:03:01.236+01:00The End of the Affair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay, I admit it. I have been having an affair.</span></div><br />
I never thought I was capable of that kind of behaviour but it sort of just happened, and before I knew it, I was completely swept off my feet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-vov4rJ8V_n6yvaI9cyr7VXsONSSLWExddc2UzKRokXrQ7OKGolJS3bBa7t6IQjZUNc93J_fIUNMemKOGFN9-dUnBH7l8ULzb2pL3BGr_PeCYbvMVlGdmA4kDPe8IyHVTeS_PL9teug/s1600/affair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-vov4rJ8V_n6yvaI9cyr7VXsONSSLWExddc2UzKRokXrQ7OKGolJS3bBa7t6IQjZUNc93J_fIUNMemKOGFN9-dUnBH7l8ULzb2pL3BGr_PeCYbvMVlGdmA4kDPe8IyHVTeS_PL9teug/s320/affair.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>At first my husband was oblivious to the situation but it was the little changes in my behaviour that alerted him to the fact. Suddenly I was in a good mood all the time. Nothing bothered me. I felt good and I looked good because I was singing on the inside.<br />
<br />
And then there were the trips away. A few days here, a week there. All in the guise of business.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I have lived the last five years in limbo, torn between a life I know and another life that fills me with joy and possibilities.<br />
<br />
You may be wondering how my husband dealt with it. Well, in a strange way he benefitted from my affair and so he chose to ignore it in the hope that one day it would come to an end.<br />
<br />
You see, my affair was not with another person. It was with a place.<br />
<br />
I have written about Mallorca before. About going there after an absence of seventeen years and feeling like I had come home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9D3cW49gbQRKQmYNfGXg-SAap6DpmU2FCVApFXnxfO11VZnrpsfQx5eqOHaduWVqyuO_Uwu2rtyPFCYiT5iLVSTo5z2m1VWOqYV89QUiAgZGAQexHDvMAemhgwns_pReD8rh4kFLbVhU/s1600/floating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9D3cW49gbQRKQmYNfGXg-SAap6DpmU2FCVApFXnxfO11VZnrpsfQx5eqOHaduWVqyuO_Uwu2rtyPFCYiT5iLVSTo5z2m1VWOqYV89QUiAgZGAQexHDvMAemhgwns_pReD8rh4kFLbVhU/s200/floating.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I feel a special kind of happiness and contentment deep within when I am there. Something that I haven't felt anywhere else.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
But last October we went to Florida after an absence of five years, and as I looked around at my family's happy faces, it dawned on me that this was <em><strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">their</span></strong> </em>ideal holiday spot.<br />
<br />
They had supported me over the years and enjoyed Mallorca, but here in Florida I could practically hear their hearts singing in their chests and I knew that enough was enough.<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong> It was time to cut the strings.</strong></span><br />
<br />
And so, we didn't go to Mallorca this year. We went to Tenerife. The apartment was lovely, the pool quiet, the weather hot, the food good. All the ingredients for a perfect holiday.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFApC4euSFfRrjND6aboVgZhfcMa96SubTgVpT61ZNaRDS7ercgHPaYenMlkztflQNUdvAQvkMmQScpGqzg39Ov7i2FFOeI2_PvUFh93rJ0g3xaZWyzU6lNmX05DAdyGyU4Aa52KGhVks/s1600/No+music+no+life" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFApC4euSFfRrjND6aboVgZhfcMa96SubTgVpT61ZNaRDS7ercgHPaYenMlkztflQNUdvAQvkMmQScpGqzg39Ov7i2FFOeI2_PvUFh93rJ0g3xaZWyzU6lNmX05DAdyGyU4Aa52KGhVks/s320/No+music+no+life" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Only, it wasn't Mallorca. Or Florida. And try as we might, I didn't hear anyone's hearts singing or even mildly humming.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And yet, I sat there with no yearnings for Mallorca. Yes, we'll go back again sometime but that all consuming passion is gone. <span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>I am finally over the affair.</strong></span><br />
<br />
Florida, on the other hand, is calling from somewhere deep within. A slight longing for the golf, the shopping, the people. The parks, the rodeo, the margarita 2 for 1 happy hours. Ruby Tuesdays, The Steak 'n' Ale, BJ's.<br />
<br />
Mmmm. I'm beginning to sing just thinking about it.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong><span style="color: magenta;">Only this time I won't be alone in my infatuation.</span></strong></span></span> <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-30532098900198911922011-09-22T15:12:00.000+01:002011-09-22T15:12:55.392+01:00The best seat on the bus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/81by6UiicHI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><strong>I saw this advert last night and couldn't help feeling it's sending the wrong message to men. How many of them will use this to nab the best seats on the bus?</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>"Aw, sorry hen. Ah didnae want tae insult ye!"</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-35102272751110770482011-09-15T16:37:00.000+01:002011-09-15T16:37:21.129+01:00Pillow Talk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4_BSyHX40tsPM5thLmo4mr_jB52-5sB3YbLPQjW8D8LnFJ-FeDylRVCKwgp7MC3fXHZ7XQ6HVwYCzadcPVsODR8r2cHV5z3azQwxXyoufz09B6lnV2ndOU1j7te41DvPVo4L321YWsQ/s1600/making+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4_BSyHX40tsPM5thLmo4mr_jB52-5sB3YbLPQjW8D8LnFJ-FeDylRVCKwgp7MC3fXHZ7XQ6HVwYCzadcPVsODR8r2cHV5z3azQwxXyoufz09B6lnV2ndOU1j7te41DvPVo4L321YWsQ/s320/making+love.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Man: <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Am I the first man to make love to you?</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Woman: <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Of course ... I don't know why you men keep asking the same silly question.</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-36698422632140978922011-09-14T11:34:00.000+01:002011-09-14T11:34:54.121+01:00How Old Would You Be If You Didn't Know How Old You Were?<span style="color: black;">I saw this question on a greeting card the other day and it got me thinking.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Would I go back to my childhood?</strong></span> Being a child is great. No responsibility, just endless days of fun. Hmm, tempting.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefpaVE4p1GzYCZqLgOCWG407Os1ORxpp_Xx5ubk2a5xX9dfHQLNpUltE8spRCCKF7-acjggpQpoEp7taVklSkjagWuhcbuOB5Gg9QiQuLXwaiJT1iaQZ5HkdCVVbALhG0HOM530sFcdg/s1600/teen+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhefpaVE4p1GzYCZqLgOCWG407Os1ORxpp_Xx5ubk2a5xX9dfHQLNpUltE8spRCCKF7-acjggpQpoEp7taVklSkjagWuhcbuOB5Gg9QiQuLXwaiJT1iaQZ5HkdCVVbALhG0HOM530sFcdg/s200/teen+down.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Would I be a teenager again?</strong></span> No way. Too much angst, too much insecurity, too many nights of quiet desperation. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong></strong></span> <br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>In my 20's?</strong></span> They were fun and I thought I knew everything, but looking back, I really didn't.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>My 30's?</strong></span> Just as much fun but feeling much more secure.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxidhyphenhyphenMJErzjFtQXukoB0eDKiI2bDy4oxG2ch9YkawK10clk5HgBikWv8U00JMwB6pxTVKMo-bYOjsT_e9nwylW-dIUo2fLUvbiravT2R1Zz2Qve4DjpdgqlqOmjHUw6ElIiw_x-pBCE/s1600/woman+doing+housework.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxidhyphenhyphenMJErzjFtQXukoB0eDKiI2bDy4oxG2ch9YkawK10clk5HgBikWv8U00JMwB6pxTVKMo-bYOjsT_e9nwylW-dIUo2fLUvbiravT2R1Zz2Qve4DjpdgqlqOmjHUw6ElIiw_x-pBCE/s200/woman+doing+housework.jpg" width="143" /></a><span style="color: magenta;"><strong>40's?</strong></span> Not doing that again! I lost myself in my 40's. Suddenly I was a wife and mother as well as a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a best friend. Where did <em><strong><span style="color: magenta;">I</span></strong></em> go? Who was this person who spent so much time looking after others that she forgot to look after herself? Where did the person I thought I was disappear to? The one who loved travelling, and speaking languages, and dancing, and horseriding, and ski-ing and adventure. How did she let herself get buried under the mound of responsibility?<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>50's?</strong></span> Okay, so my 50's have just started, and let me tell you, they've started well. But would I choose to be here and be this me?<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>60's plus?</strong></span> Realistically, at the age of 50, I'd rather take years off than put them on.<br />
<br />
The more I ponder the age thing, the more complicated it gets. If I go back to my childhood, can I stay there? Or do I then have to grow up and relive the whole teenage angst thing, the 25th birthday when I thought my life was over because I was a quarter of a century old, the painful breakup of a relationship, a first marriage.<br />
<br />
And then I think, if I didn't know how old I was, then I wouldn't have had all these experiences to colour my judgement. And if I hadn't lived this life that makes me <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>ME</strong></span>, then how would I decide which age to be?<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>Arghhhhh<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">! My head hurts</span>.</strong></span> <br />
<br />
Suddenly the thought of the womb is tempting. Space to myself. A space to stretch and grow and move around. Dance if I want to. A comfy bed. Nourishment on tap. Peace and quiet. No-one bothering me. Plenty of time for quiet contemplation.<br />
<br />
Is it cheating to go to a minus age?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE67CDZ53UrRsXn-6fzwWmclNimM1VHqu1z4EpaACQ7GpWgEtGYuA8ucf8Nta6KDA8Kf2IMZlN9l2K9ctag_nqKAE3MsLgTnWj79ILnJBFNa2FftMpnhdXGg8USEACvycVxky34GOmVz4/s1600/hyp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE67CDZ53UrRsXn-6fzwWmclNimM1VHqu1z4EpaACQ7GpWgEtGYuA8ucf8Nta6KDA8Kf2IMZlN9l2K9ctag_nqKAE3MsLgTnWj79ILnJBFNa2FftMpnhdXGg8USEACvycVxky34GOmVz4/s1600/hyp1.jpg" /></a>On the other hand, I could forget the age thing and book a spa holiday. Space to myself. A space to stretch and grow and move around. Dance if I want to. A comfy bed. Nourishment on tap. Peace and quiet. No-one bothering me. Plenty of time for quiet contemplation. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now,<span style="color: magenta;"><strong> that's</strong></span> more like it!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-24000398335452302322011-01-28T14:53:00.000+00:002011-01-28T14:53:12.735+00:00You are the author of your own life<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSS515bCtRNrGxuGocCm9AIrL6XtA-5KfzdcaNVCB8ZiAn_HNWeBFhgl6BISDC6jSf_fNFLFVOcUxqlUpSmwZVO96bQGpjntTHvd6i5hfVNSL47fhBgHcnO9bcxJhxkTs6-tVI8UJ3kM/s1600/man_sunrise_3871462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghSS515bCtRNrGxuGocCm9AIrL6XtA-5KfzdcaNVCB8ZiAn_HNWeBFhgl6BISDC6jSf_fNFLFVOcUxqlUpSmwZVO96bQGpjntTHvd6i5hfVNSL47fhBgHcnO9bcxJhxkTs6-tVI8UJ3kM/s320/man_sunrise_3871462.jpg" width="230" /></a>"Tomorrow, in a very real sense, your life - the life you author from scratch on your own - begins. How will you use your gifts? What choices will you make? Will inertia be your guide, or will you follow your passions? Will you follow dogma, or will you be original? Will you choose a life of ease, or a life of service and adventure? Will you wilt under criticism, or will you follow your convictions? Will you bluff it out when you're wrong, or will you apologize? Will you guard your heart against rejection, or will you act when you fall in love? Will you play it safe, or will you be a little bit swashbuckling? When it's tough, will you give up, or will you be relentless? Will you be a cynic, or will you be a builder? Will you be clever at the expense of others, or will you be kind?"</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> - Jeff Bezos, CEO and founder of Amazon.com</div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><strong>Just for today, take a few moments out to think about tomorrow.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-73634237375176575192010-08-31T17:35:00.000+01:002010-08-31T17:35:45.270+01:00Reaching new heights<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eLFAXETzsvEC0THL868-X6TA0FRPQ-yExVi-mglfysnp7n-6_n4_GIIqalVeEmJPZJb_QsBQUn-cZsThjf7aC2OeIhbpJPhd7lQsOnod0OD696TstsSBsrzkktT43wEgpwpDIn-ryZM/s1600/festival.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eLFAXETzsvEC0THL868-X6TA0FRPQ-yExVi-mglfysnp7n-6_n4_GIIqalVeEmJPZJb_QsBQUn-cZsThjf7aC2OeIhbpJPhd7lQsOnod0OD696TstsSBsrzkktT43wEgpwpDIn-ryZM/s320/festival.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, so after my last monthly challenge in June I was left <span style="color: magenta;">flying high</span> and, interestingly enough, in August my challenge was <span style="color: magenta;">high flying</span>.</span> <div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(By the way, my July challenge was to be glass walking - yes, walking on a bed of broken glass - but unfortunately it fell through so hopefully it will happen at a later date).</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgO2ifJT6ru9f5UDlyYuqu4osnqMhxTr-7dZQvl3TljDYoCAXe1KaXJbVAvIxPHKwGPBb258eESPBCNiooJSckyugAEusA7dMbm7bT3nB7bZbeG5fT49BmYI_7F2ZAc0nVQq7EFiCSBc/s1600/festival+fringe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgO2ifJT6ru9f5UDlyYuqu4osnqMhxTr-7dZQvl3TljDYoCAXe1KaXJbVAvIxPHKwGPBb258eESPBCNiooJSckyugAEusA7dMbm7bT3nB7bZbeG5fT49BmYI_7F2ZAc0nVQq7EFiCSBc/s320/festival+fringe.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">August is festival time in Edinburgh. A time for fun, a time for music and laughter, a time for national pride as the sun streams over our beautiful city and bathes the castle and gardens in a bright, uplifting light. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My friend has come to the rescue this month. <span style="color: magenta;">Our challenge is to have</span> <span style="color: magenta;">breakfast 100 feet in the air</span> <span style="color: magenta;">on a platform held up by a crane overlooking the city</span>.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoNNiocqPpXPWoujrqszmLVutleye9LOB9mBdfZPB6zHNPJU9rnvuxLE3-yNZPMkjn2oi9rZyx0i7kfDlCsykqCC_UIjqJ0Ma-f0fxdfTeK4hzFZ2nQxtjxxdUux4VQtTaWuKzm9TkB0/s1600/edi+pic.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoNNiocqPpXPWoujrqszmLVutleye9LOB9mBdfZPB6zHNPJU9rnvuxLE3-yNZPMkjn2oi9rZyx0i7kfDlCsykqCC_UIjqJ0Ma-f0fxdfTeK4hzFZ2nQxtjxxdUux4VQtTaWuKzm9TkB0/s320/edi+pic.bmp" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, I'm not overly keen on heights. <span style="color: black;">Glass lifts are not my thing</span>, and standing on a clifftop invariably gives me a tingle in sensitive places and<span style="color: black;"> <span style="background-color: white;">a temporary urge to jump off just to see what it would be like</span>.</span> I can't for the life of me understand the urge to throw oneself off a tall bridge with nothing more than a piece of elastic between me and the ground, and, as a former air hostess, jumping out of a plane voluntarily goes completely against my safety training.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So to be strapped into a seat (albeit a very comfy one) and hoisted one hundred feet in the air for breakfast gives a new meaning to a <span style="color: magenta;">'room with a view'.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, we arrived in plenty of time and joined the other twenty people who would be flying with us. The staff treated it as a proper flight, talking of boarding gates, departure times and take off. Normally I would be completely at home with these terms, except that I was standing in the shadow of a bloody great yellow crane with a cheerful driver giving us the thumbs up as we received our safety briefing.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dCIKsjSROpUXTHiKXswR13J6zCxFrfb3XDuUxAu6HfKaBco_EdlGLgcX8xD5ka9NmbMsviuQDfdX3IYBQBiUxx1pKq_hLKMACC3ZrD7lIxgeqwmPA_RlVo0u6X68fZtbFsJElxtcPpI/s1600/Sky-Table-Edinburgh_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1dCIKsjSROpUXTHiKXswR13J6zCxFrfb3XDuUxAu6HfKaBco_EdlGLgcX8xD5ka9NmbMsviuQDfdX3IYBQBiUxx1pKq_hLKMACC3ZrD7lIxgeqwmPA_RlVo0u6X68fZtbFsJElxtcPpI/s320/Sky-Table-Edinburgh_9.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were led through the departure gate and one by one we climbed into our big black bucket seats and were strapped in. Straps over the shoulders, around the waist and through the legs. <span style="color: magenta;">Even Houdini would have thought twice about this lot</span>.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or so I thought, until it occurred to me that underneath me was a small metal plate to rest my feet on and a whole lot of nothing else. Our chairs were literally sitting out from the table so that we would be suspended in thin air once we reached cruising level.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2uCrNLxn4HH8OEge3iJsvwr-FZ0Wy6-PhyphenhyphenNL6BSG9eKl-7_w3fNWy1Ccna9vjo7zwJ2H26hO4-A8T3xOTSelT9xtm-04ybEvmaGTnHKLFozTXzMqpuEhC0Jo5FqJFtAb903aCAVfS3A/s1600/restaurant+in+the+sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2uCrNLxn4HH8OEge3iJsvwr-FZ0Wy6-PhyphenhyphenNL6BSG9eKl-7_w3fNWy1Ccna9vjo7zwJ2H26hO4-A8T3xOTSelT9xtm-04ybEvmaGTnHKLFozTXzMqpuEhC0Jo5FqJFtAb903aCAVfS3A/s320/restaurant+in+the+sky.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The countdown was made. The thumbs up given to the crane driver. And we were off. Rising slowly and steadily, over the treetops, over the church spires, getting nearer and nearer to the castle. At 100 feet, we came to a gentle stop and the staff served us breakfast from their floored rectangle in the middle of the table. While we ate, the guide told us some amusing stories from Edinburgh's rich history and pointed out the local landmarks, nonchalantly informing us that our seats could swivel if we were brave enough to give it a go.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">I looked down, heart in mouth, took a deep breath and swivelled</span>. I was aware of hanging in space, feet dangling, as the crane slowly rotated the table so we could see the views.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUfQMMh1D5ahrk0w09WnzCeuQZCYNaDp4DjlOMlptiZJAiKP7InuOOpMvyf3ZjqrV0wf_HhJP26xkITRCNC98_yLCWzqGrsN7xEUDrHr3RoIPPj9YN5D6OdyoViqVnAc4X3Oq0KR2Geg/s1600/princesstreetgardens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUfQMMh1D5ahrk0w09WnzCeuQZCYNaDp4DjlOMlptiZJAiKP7InuOOpMvyf3ZjqrV0wf_HhJP26xkITRCNC98_yLCWzqGrsN7xEUDrHr3RoIPPj9YN5D6OdyoViqVnAc4X3Oq0KR2Geg/s320/princesstreetgardens.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">And suddenly I was aware of the peace and quiet</span>. Of the birds singing. Of the rich red colours on the tops of the trees that weren't visible from the ground. Of the beautifully crafted facades on the buildings along Princes Street that you don't see when you are focused on heading for Boots or Debenhams.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The height meant nothing. But the thirty minutes we spent suspended above our majestic city was a wonderful reminder of how lucky we are to live here.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I didn't feel like jumping off once! </span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-89026284825735814692010-06-21T20:51:00.002+01:002010-06-21T21:03:23.472+01:00I Dreamed A Dream<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: magenta;">Is there anything more joyous than singing your heart out with a group of talented, like-minded people?</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihc3EOO0O9CajVMqAD16H7Zp79rEVoyjOQHH15hRIB5YF3yN9tU2dLPlumCEzU-ajgeoeWgx_jL7zXYi2kPb_elD_8RpVuLyKVa7GgLcyG1Zwi-Q5cwpaIdMJXc7xjG5Y1dYfyQnbA-Hw/s1600/les-miserables.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihc3EOO0O9CajVMqAD16H7Zp79rEVoyjOQHH15hRIB5YF3yN9tU2dLPlumCEzU-ajgeoeWgx_jL7zXYi2kPb_elD_8RpVuLyKVa7GgLcyG1Zwi-Q5cwpaIdMJXc7xjG5Y1dYfyQnbA-Hw/s320/les-miserables.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: magenta;">My new experience for the month of June</span> has fulfilled one of my longterm (and previously believed impossible) dreams ...<span style="color: magenta;"> to</span> <span style="color: magenta;">sing Les Miserables on stage</span>. Not only did I achieve that on Saturday night but we were on stage with the Beyond The Barricades professionals.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's quite incredible how challenges have begun to present themselves since January when I first decided to grab the bull by the horns and try out one new thing each month. It's true that when you focus on something and send your intention out into the universe, opportunities start to show up. My experiences started off quite tame but are becoming more challenging and out of the ordinary with each passing month (wait 'til you see the next couple...).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Over the last few years, as you will know if you have read some of my other posts, I have re-discovered my voice and a passion for performing. So when my friend and I read about the <span style="color: magenta;">Les Miserables Masterclass</span> taking place in the Alhambra Theatre in Dunfermline, we sent off our applications with a mixture of excitement and a large dose of trepidation.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After all, this was to be a masterclass in acting and performing the songs from Les Miserables with none other than Andy Reiss, a longterm cast member and director of the West End show, and co-creator of the Beyond The Barricades touring show. A masterclass from the master! Wow!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A few days before the workshop, we received pages of lyrics in the post and discovered that we would be singing the numbers on stage behind Andy and the Beyond The Barricades stars to a sell out audience that had paid full price tickets to see the Beyond The Barricades show.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Cue a panicky three days of trying to get the lyrics to sink in (it normally takes me a few weeks of rehearsal to be word perfect).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3wl2eUzhpf1op_Alt4cLjXEY-myaGpc7QYQ4XcHztsvXxMFnwyYILfW1r-DnQMvndJlC3FdVlr7EbDUjOywJr7klxYyZ5dAJ0bqbgSswPWnhE4jmwt1mWK0_A3AGUexkRbeIJGD4mvQ/s1600/beyond+the+barricades.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3wl2eUzhpf1op_Alt4cLjXEY-myaGpc7QYQ4XcHztsvXxMFnwyYILfW1r-DnQMvndJlC3FdVlr7EbDUjOywJr7klxYyZ5dAJ0bqbgSswPWnhE4jmwt1mWK0_A3AGUexkRbeIJGD4mvQ/s320/beyond+the+barricades.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Saturday was incredible ... mindblowing ... extremely hard work ... and all too soon we were standing in the wings of the stage, awaiting our entrance music. <span style="color: magenta;">And then it started. The lights dimmed to a red glow, the familiar haunting intro began and we walked onto the stage, nervous and excited. Andy nodded his head, we opened our mouths and the most incredible, beautiful, universal sound came out, word perfect, our well rehearsed harmonies resounding around the theatre. A wave of elation surged through me and the realisation hit me. My god, I was on stage singing songs from Les Miserables with the original cast members!</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">All too soon it was over, but Sunday was still to come.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5_gb6OuT4eh3FvYTAMQUwTJawNkR2fK0Nw64tQaN0XDz8_p1jwQPCnAk_fsV8TFRxcSCLm38DzaVNJ0qKxeGquORUYPfAz-KQh2tQx1L5VosYxEwZTl7k1zbLSwc_1P98vlUOVTANaQ/s1600/at+the+end+of+the+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5_gb6OuT4eh3FvYTAMQUwTJawNkR2fK0Nw64tQaN0XDz8_p1jwQPCnAk_fsV8TFRxcSCLm38DzaVNJ0qKxeGquORUYPfAz-KQh2tQx1L5VosYxEwZTl7k1zbLSwc_1P98vlUOVTANaQ/s320/at+the+end+of+the+day.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5B5djaFo7zb0eLLmD5ibEIWT8u72D9Zbgl4rHJsTd9Ew10E-yO17c2L6yS84bLek20Pq5B6mnyjPReZa0fiJEZNpUTrpKBcb_x2vrnl7EJiT0Xi5NNL2kGr9PkwVFRWRBMQLP2Ua_4lU/s1600/one_day_more.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5B5djaFo7zb0eLLmD5ibEIWT8u72D9Zbgl4rHJsTd9Ew10E-yO17c2L6yS84bLek20Pq5B6mnyjPReZa0fiJEZNpUTrpKBcb_x2vrnl7EJiT0Xi5NNL2kGr9PkwVFRWRBMQLP2Ua_4lU/s320/one_day_more.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On Sunday, Andy taught us how to stage two numbers. We worked on and performed <span style="color: magenta;">At The End Of The Day</span> in the factory where the girls find out that Fantine is hiding a child and have her sacked.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And then we staged <span style="color: magenta;">One Day More</span> - complete with marching!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: magenta;">There is a reason why Les Miserables is the most successful musical of all time. I challenge anyone to sing these songs without being swept along on a wave of emotion. It may be quite some time before I come down to earth!!</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Thankfully I have time before my next challenge. In the meantime, you'll find me floating above the atmosphere. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: magenta;">"Earth calling Susan?" ....</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-59989967345419229842010-06-03T15:39:00.000+01:002010-06-03T15:39:32.799+01:00How far will your burger fly?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During my training with Richard Bandler, the co-creator of NLP, Richard told us the following story.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05YVgRzZMhsHPTMXdG1aw-OkRft00My9PehdlPepT5U_Vkebd4X4BoWWSpge6hJYRA1YRd_rdB9_PXGLgfBneVeqhEa8JDAXQUUEwHNln2hJ8uHkdRVnmgx8WMOhFsNdZ2M0wjgP6n3M/s1600/paulsburger.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05YVgRzZMhsHPTMXdG1aw-OkRft00My9PehdlPepT5U_Vkebd4X4BoWWSpge6hJYRA1YRd_rdB9_PXGLgfBneVeqhEa8JDAXQUUEwHNln2hJ8uHkdRVnmgx8WMOhFsNdZ2M0wjgP6n3M/s400/paulsburger.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“A man in New York bought a burger from a street seller and was crossing the road eating it when a car knocked him down and killed him. His burger flew out of his hand at the moment of impact and landed about 30 yards further down the sidewalk. The next day, the newspaper article was all about how far his burger flew.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not about his life, his achievements, his contribution to society. About how his burger flew 30 yards!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, I don’t know about you, but I would hope that people would have something a bit more interesting to say about me when I’m gone.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Writing about this today reminds me of a workshop I attended last year with an amazing public speaker and corporate trainer called Richard Jacobs.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRu9ZHi_3xl83SdO0JTQCRoCLYCAI57WFulFJ5U-ZO0b5UDnpXK0YA4XPbN8sOtbShzd2-sOeWT1ZZu7t0okr2vfcmykkB6CJe-O9zJwoMfyx0wKZr85w0754iROwv80UAvXx0LG_MV9M/s1600/whats+your+purpose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRu9ZHi_3xl83SdO0JTQCRoCLYCAI57WFulFJ5U-ZO0b5UDnpXK0YA4XPbN8sOtbShzd2-sOeWT1ZZu7t0okr2vfcmykkB6CJe-O9zJwoMfyx0wKZr85w0754iROwv80UAvXx0LG_MV9M/s320/whats+your+purpose.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Richard has written a book called “What’s Your Purpose?”, and his workshop was designed to work through seven questions which lead to understanding your purpose in this lifetime.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the questions we worked through was “If there was one word that describes how you would most like to be remembered, and which would be etched on your tombstone forever more, what would that word be?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, if you are interested, here is how you work it out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You choose 7 words that best describe how you would like to be remembered and then you group together the words that instinctively go together. In my case I chose:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gracious and caring</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Inspirational, passionate and determined</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Joyful and fun</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You then choose one word to represent each group:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Compassionate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Inspirational</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Joyful</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next step is to merge your 3 words to get one that says ‘Yes’ to you. Trust your instincts and ignore any cynicism or internal criticism you may encounter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a long deliberation trying out various words, I word I chose for myself was “<span style="color: magenta;">Teacher</span>”. I first thought of ‘Leader’, but ‘Teacher’ just somehow felt right.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because in my role as a hypnotherapist and seminar speaker, I am teaching people all the time. Teaching them to listen to their inner voice, teaching them that they already have all the answers, and teaching them techniques to draw those answers out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You test your word out by running it through your head. Ask yourself ‘How happy would I be if this were etched on my tombstone after my death?’ If the answer is 9 or 10 out of 10 this question is complete. If not, keep trying other words until you find a 9 or a 10.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Test it again. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">‘Here lies (your name), “Teacher”. Rest In Peace’.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1wErn9vSvmM_LHhmB28sJK4aeT02VAOYa1tRnifvldFD0McrnqyNaFnV_1xVe7SqTECVXTOtAuN4dy0dJtbDXSg6ywUwvpeDs4h8wEaDTFUHPuhtRuZf9HGEjiDmehZH0pBowVV1nw4/s1600/gravestone+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1wErn9vSvmM_LHhmB28sJK4aeT02VAOYa1tRnifvldFD0McrnqyNaFnV_1xVe7SqTECVXTOtAuN4dy0dJtbDXSg6ywUwvpeDs4h8wEaDTFUHPuhtRuZf9HGEjiDmehZH0pBowVV1nw4/s320/gravestone+3.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once you have your final word, write it down in a little RIP tombstone sketch.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Remember that this process is about determining your values and aspirations. By choosing a word, you are not saying “This is the way I am all of the time, or even most of the time”. You are simply saying “This word stands for something which is important to me. I would love this word to be a constant theme in my life.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a line I would like to add to it. Over my life so far I have had different jobs, been to many exciting places, met many wonderful people and had some truly incredible experiences. I hope to continue with more of the same, and so I would like to add to my epitaph the following phrase:-</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A Life Well Lived!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now THAT feels GOOD!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-19587802463085012732010-05-31T20:06:00.000+01:002010-05-31T20:06:44.896+01:00Magnificent May<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There's something about sunshine that just makes us feel better. That first sensation of warmth on your face, your skin, especially after a long, hard winter. It makes you pause just to drink it in and appreciate the wonder of nature.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmqEV6KnTzeVOnQnr50Ezm1ZMcR3-S0QlcBIGHlQScTtE-oG48PZMlqLs_zV3fylJY7oyYQZJ0fMZlmcuGbTVakTJ88EhNNdoEIk3Niaf06kEwoX8FqZT4CGSW9XsCxqV1SXLxeckoRA/s1600/Race-for-life-compositelogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmqEV6KnTzeVOnQnr50Ezm1ZMcR3-S0QlcBIGHlQScTtE-oG48PZMlqLs_zV3fylJY7oyYQZJ0fMZlmcuGbTVakTJ88EhNNdoEIk3Niaf06kEwoX8FqZT4CGSW9XsCxqV1SXLxeckoRA/s320/Race-for-life-compositelogo.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Race For Life day (my challenge for this month) dawns exactly like this. A beautiful May morning, warm but with a slight nip to the air which would keep us cool whilst running ... or jogging ... or walking. Of course, I had intended to pitch up fit and fabulously healthy, ready to run 5km easily and effortlessly. But, in the intervening months since we booked our places, somehow my fitness plans have reduced to a couple of hours in the gym the week before.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QYDPiRnfcJwFgufEcAbm70yA6gJBo7swpEscANGPjEaI-PETE3Z8azu9N2Z1VZuF4FwYaslpjNb4aiCKBhB3kQz9Gn1IL6PVtgLbRbKBcYkXVToqLl-erQzTXOHBDefdFhkJCUjAUv4/s1600/hopetoun+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QYDPiRnfcJwFgufEcAbm70yA6gJBo7swpEscANGPjEaI-PETE3Z8azu9N2Z1VZuF4FwYaslpjNb4aiCKBhB3kQz9Gn1IL6PVtgLbRbKBcYkXVToqLl-erQzTXOHBDefdFhkJCUjAUv4/s320/hopetoun+house.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so we arrive at the magnificent Hopetoun House and follow the queue of cars winding through the estate to the makeshift carpark. We are four, but we have already agreed to split as necessary once the race starts and take it at our own pace.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We join the gathering at the front of the stately home, and I can't help but read the messages for loved ones pinned to everyone's backs. I feel unexpectedly touched by the poignancy of reading the long lists of people lost to cancer, and I briefly and surreptitiously wipe a tear away.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX07G99GV4YSWwHDZLa-wEDIExCVR-FvyTv6CdH2mU7vFSsUOD1lJqAjVe2Dwqz8Q8G-p9iwr7pSdQqUeJuDZ4H8YQbrQq-M_7jqu10eF2RAFtD23dBsfUispx6lcqawp_8Ulu1kDIOws/s1600/race+runners.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX07G99GV4YSWwHDZLa-wEDIExCVR-FvyTv6CdH2mU7vFSsUOD1lJqAjVe2Dwqz8Q8G-p9iwr7pSdQqUeJuDZ4H8YQbrQq-M_7jqu10eF2RAFtD23dBsfUispx6lcqawp_8Ulu1kDIOws/s320/race+runners.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thankfully there's not much time for deliberation as we launch into our warm up and all too soon it's time to race and we are through the starting gates and running. And what a great feeling it is! Running in a sea of pink tops, heads bobbing all around us. Two of our team pull away ahead but we are pacing ourselves. We run for a while and then slow to a walk once we are out of sight of the house. We keep a comfortable rhythm as we walk, jog, have a chat with the neighbours, and put the world to rights. We jog past the groups ahead of us and when we slow to a walk, those same people jog past us with a friendly wave.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We pass the one and two kilometre markers quickly. The 3km sign seems to be evading us until we round a bend at a run and there it is. Once we pass the 4km marker, we start to push ahead, watching our time to make sure we come in on target. We come round the house and all of a sudden the crowds are there. We run up to the last bend and then with a final effort come charging over the finish line feeling very pleased with ourselves.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our fit friends have come in ten minutes earlier, but we are happy with our effort. And we feel fantastic for the rest of the day. There's nothing like a bit of exercise to get you going and leave you feeling fab. I just need to remember that next time I choose to watch last night's recorded TV over a workout at the gym......</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next year, we may do the 10km race. And we might even run it!</span> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-81596241151408731672010-04-22T14:07:00.000+01:002010-04-22T14:07:17.718+01:00April Auditions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicap2bmS4x3wUXo9Q8G4RAsQYkaSv9iu5TP6Too9w7pMJdFMx-CBWrMA8Z3t7OIwz1i47Cu4cNkYGJKkw5bgj5O3SrgXyNNavQBKEjBahnWEm7LSGqD6AXC3GST4DMZhzxALFq8lWxKok/s1600/red_rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicap2bmS4x3wUXo9Q8G4RAsQYkaSv9iu5TP6Too9w7pMJdFMx-CBWrMA8Z3t7OIwz1i47Cu4cNkYGJKkw5bgj5O3SrgXyNNavQBKEjBahnWEm7LSGqD6AXC3GST4DMZhzxALFq8lWxKok/s320/red_rose.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Be our guest, be our guest, put our service to the test...."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">March 18th</span> It's the pre-audition meeting for Balerno Theatre Company and we are learning the song and dance for the forthcoming auditions. This year's panto is Bonnie and The Beast (a Scottish version of Beauty and The Beast). The song presents no problems because it's one of my favourite numbers in the film, albeit with a change to the lyrics.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"No-one's ever been the wiser drinking Irn Bru and Tizer...."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The dance is a different game altogether. The youngsters pick it up first time whilst we 'slightly more mature' folk take a little longer to drum the choreography into our head.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For the next fortnight the song is going round my head constantly. I go to bed at night and can't sleep for running the dance over and over again in my mind. I wake up in the morning and the song is still there. I'm driving my family nuts with the constant repetition. My 10 year old son is word perfect and prompts me every time I forget the words.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DL9CuqsDCMOVNecU2WpaEr4h2627Y3o01fY_U4jYQCSigO6jTL4QpKG0xq3VjwEkh4jAchul3XHNqIE04KZQs4jmbfW_wJy90d1GISG1AgmtOSo3Ke1xqTiISXWVQLP8zVv0CFNQtPY/s1600/birthday+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DL9CuqsDCMOVNecU2WpaEr4h2627Y3o01fY_U4jYQCSigO6jTL4QpKG0xq3VjwEkh4jAchul3XHNqIE04KZQs4jmbfW_wJy90d1GISG1AgmtOSo3Ke1xqTiISXWVQLP8zVv0CFNQtPY/s320/birthday+hat.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Closer to audition day I realise that I will be auditioning on my birthday. It's tradition in our family that the birthday person wear the birthday hat, and for once this turns out to be fortuitous as it occurs to me that the hat looks like a cake with candles on top. I have found a prop for the dance!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">March 30th.</span> I turn up for the auditions hat in hand and the nerves and adrenaline kick in. I'm past the "Why am I doing this to myself?" as this is my fourth year in the company, but it doesn't make it any easier. In fact, I think it becomes more difficult because I expect more from myself. I have started to push myself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year I have taken on the onerous and almighty task of Producer so I haven't put my name down for a principal part, reckoning that the role of Producer will be big enough to cope with. I start to sing. I still want to do my best even though I'm not after a role. The nerves were there but I enjoyed it and we had fun running through the acting scenes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The following day I get a phonecall to say I have a callback. What? Wait a minute! That's not in the plan.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">April 1st (April Fools Day) </span> Callbacks. We turn up and are given a completely new song that no one has ever heard of, and one by one we are put on the spot as we are asked to perform it to the group. Followed by more acting.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA78TdpKksik6MwyC-SelfpmaD5JItkRVqj61spNktrze9p1k8ADgbjcqts5vzN3TUPBTBv0cX_v6b66RL6hXLxPiLuSgcMCiIH4Npqj9PVoFEL5M36nNlwoCerypJz0-4iEcGDiCVcAQ/s1600/mrs+potts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA78TdpKksik6MwyC-SelfpmaD5JItkRVqj61spNktrze9p1k8ADgbjcqts5vzN3TUPBTBv0cX_v6b66RL6hXLxPiLuSgcMCiIH4Npqj9PVoFEL5M36nNlwoCerypJz0-4iEcGDiCVcAQ/s320/mrs+potts.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">April 2nd</span> The phone goes. Audrey the director is on the line and starts the conversation with "Mrs Potts, I presume!" I am speechless. Then I panic.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"How the h*** can I be producer and take on a big role like that? It is a big role, isn't it?</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Huge!" says Audrey with a giggle. "But you'll manage!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They say if you want something done, ask a busy person. Call me. I'm open for business!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-76145052920440560952010-04-22T12:54:00.000+01:002010-04-22T12:54:34.050+01:00Ashes to Ashes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ncKT7BZctM3mRvZB0Hc0sNbXSSQe0DvAf4B4RiY2gmlSaABuRA_bLbcd_pmwzgRwvI9WnRIkVoTvR1WtprUV4N5vTINn5l167iue0rB1QVnUj2Q4cVJXrsPkCG1boQVmSLrC9Vn5mps/s1600/ash+cloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ncKT7BZctM3mRvZB0Hc0sNbXSSQe0DvAf4B4RiY2gmlSaABuRA_bLbcd_pmwzgRwvI9WnRIkVoTvR1WtprUV4N5vTINn5l167iue0rB1QVnUj2Q4cVJXrsPkCG1boQVmSLrC9Vn5mps/s320/ash+cloud.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As my friend writes on facebook...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Is it too early to make volcanic jokes or should we wait 'til the dust settles?"</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-34026880224439325812010-03-29T12:56:00.001+01:002010-03-29T12:59:02.903+01:00Mermaid or whale?<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This story was sent to me and I thought I would share it with you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Recently, in a large city in Australia, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It said, <span style="color: magenta;">"This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?"</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To Whom It May Concern, </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXb3AmF2I_WSDt89pJHaOFaeysva4vVBmuWDaBfasYsBWUA2qZ_tGpyUrsSLnDN6Gt5ryAXw4xhwmRYzns8dlqKHNX8C0f32hYf2ParMvskw9GP30Px9IYOVrNdShwUzB-uEhxOE8VJaE/s1600/killer-whale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: purple;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXb3AmF2I_WSDt89pJHaOFaeysva4vVBmuWDaBfasYsBWUA2qZ_tGpyUrsSLnDN6Gt5ryAXw4xhwmRYzns8dlqKHNX8C0f32hYf2ParMvskw9GP30Px9IYOVrNdShwUzB-uEhxOE8VJaE/s320/killer-whale.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.) </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia . </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They are incredible creatures and have virtually no predators other than humans. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaAmA3YdedQ5Xw3qaavzUA9JszSmDFG32z0OGFyg3ZHzj7q7PXRmlmQh-1_GlvOCq9Xu71BUImc0v5Hr9uE0EWm2aXB9aL8N0DueUqY8DYh81DH1SNWL3x9DpXJB8Z4jEFvC5pQwMztM/s1600/mermaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: purple;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaAmA3YdedQ5Xw3qaavzUA9JszSmDFG32z0OGFyg3ZHzj7q7PXRmlmQh-1_GlvOCq9Xu71BUImc0v5Hr9uE0EWm2aXB9aL8N0DueUqY8DYh81DH1SNWL3x9DpXJB8Z4jEFvC5pQwMztM/s320/mermaid.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mermaids don't exist. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them. Not to mention, how could they have sex? Just look at them ... where is IT? <br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Therefore, they don't have kids either. Plus, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The choice is perfectly clear to me: </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: magenta;">I want to be a whale.</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">P..S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So we aren't heavy. We are enormously cultured, educated and happy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple;">Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think,</span> <span style="color: magenta;">¨Good grief, look how smart I am!¨</span></span><span style="color: magenta;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-88806957532395370542010-03-22T14:32:00.000+00:002010-03-22T14:32:27.247+00:00You've been warned!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGv2QfeUGuARx3__kzpZs6Gng4V4MdfoZhyFjf_ALt3OOgm2QaChdSIL-WgM9o4rLOs6z3t2WnAusEvr9cCA_JBpBKgbKEDECNfNPT5kWvKkCtZs0aSJqUehAM4wC8_eqfZVRquNLRcU/s1600-h/golf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGv2QfeUGuARx3__kzpZs6Gng4V4MdfoZhyFjf_ALt3OOgm2QaChdSIL-WgM9o4rLOs6z3t2WnAusEvr9cCA_JBpBKgbKEDECNfNPT5kWvKkCtZs0aSJqUehAM4wC8_eqfZVRquNLRcU/s400/golf.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-82075833313809858862010-03-22T14:21:00.004+00:002010-03-22T14:28:21.809+00:00If I Had My Time To Live Over<span style="color: purple;">by Erma Bombeck</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s44mC5H-Cca9SjLTg-ovhvgFWxdPU7oLTJJGvLnkOxfCr-Dmj4dHSzzUylfumpt9qa56r41r7w55LRhM-LTCR_34tsJ2acKhB2PdluxwfYcolza0jdKn2HeIvukwhScUV_sFTl_CBLs/s1600-h/Purple+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s44mC5H-Cca9SjLTg-ovhvgFWxdPU7oLTJJGvLnkOxfCr-Dmj4dHSzzUylfumpt9qa56r41r7w55LRhM-LTCR_34tsJ2acKhB2PdluxwfYcolza0jdKn2HeIvukwhScUV_sFTl_CBLs/s320/Purple+hat.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #666666;">(written after she found out she was dying from cancer). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have talked less and listened more. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you's' More 'I'm sorry's.' </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #666666;">But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute. look at it and really see it . live it and never give it back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-61671048719029504462010-03-22T14:12:00.000+00:002010-03-22T14:12:10.271+00:00Go on - you know you want to!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Dv8sPYui5XUrLF2Qc0wapO48DZrZjuGzM1PZE6mStI9Nq_ukF48NjJCJ5a3K8HKB0x7iC0uY8iV1t3SISSpHkEt8xcuTbZ3tMT19UBtc2Zr9i1USg6WwYKc5njARPg2VKRNBhi4NTT0/s1600-h/whore.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Dv8sPYui5XUrLF2Qc0wapO48DZrZjuGzM1PZE6mStI9Nq_ukF48NjJCJ5a3K8HKB0x7iC0uY8iV1t3SISSpHkEt8xcuTbZ3tMT19UBtc2Zr9i1USg6WwYKc5njARPg2VKRNBhi4NTT0/s320/whore.gif" vt="true" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-71275439205029311862010-03-22T14:10:00.000+00:002010-03-22T14:10:36.678+00:00To friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfC8EdLKnueUgI5E32T9GDO6cgq-eQ5lTm3F_rtMQTWVz3caBaAWsq-c5CDq3tG8YWSORnx4nfvZKUpryAdxbpegaxBERa5OU4DQVWB-Fr95U6Jq58kXITQQpjqAQ3n251YSZ2gJLWC4/s1600-h/friendship006.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYfC8EdLKnueUgI5E32T9GDO6cgq-eQ5lTm3F_rtMQTWVz3caBaAWsq-c5CDq3tG8YWSORnx4nfvZKUpryAdxbpegaxBERa5OU4DQVWB-Fr95U6Jq58kXITQQpjqAQ3n251YSZ2gJLWC4/s320/friendship006.gif" vt="true" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-44684876783133191152010-03-22T14:08:00.000+00:002010-03-22T14:08:48.098+00:00Doh!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3aWHjlcNpiEZJAyxKNxeC1GDxRXTvesGNpui_CC0FYnwBVXkDpg-i66kwW9Uiii9gCjk8AqeI8-7AdCovsHTo6FIVPCBaJQSiSw5lAx2eStoP8thqC5whOKvWaQ_HMhqdr6-C4mIn9o/s1600-h/bright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3aWHjlcNpiEZJAyxKNxeC1GDxRXTvesGNpui_CC0FYnwBVXkDpg-i66kwW9Uiii9gCjk8AqeI8-7AdCovsHTo6FIVPCBaJQSiSw5lAx2eStoP8thqC5whOKvWaQ_HMhqdr6-C4mIn9o/s320/bright.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-9813864057009777482010-03-22T14:07:00.001+00:002010-03-22T14:33:03.572+00:00Ouch!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygwCFIWzyGRNJh3z8PeoNXbbce3AsEE4UAT7pxwinn7-JahwObGtbBtr3NS55TOlQb6oSKBFBQi6YasmRQSiBLl9LzQmvcfC2265mkDpSzfiZ2OVjAo2YJ9SsaF9XwZzE9sujRx_lCOs/s1600-h/frisbee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygwCFIWzyGRNJh3z8PeoNXbbce3AsEE4UAT7pxwinn7-JahwObGtbBtr3NS55TOlQb6oSKBFBQi6YasmRQSiBLl9LzQmvcfC2265mkDpSzfiZ2OVjAo2YJ9SsaF9XwZzE9sujRx_lCOs/s320/frisbee.jpg" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-83410697404300356992010-03-22T14:05:00.000+00:002010-03-22T14:05:00.630+00:00Ooh, Matron!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbv56DXd6dZggYq1wZNZE3BaQdbyE4QFasX7xbtKG-QlgQ5YuUzysZH4rhrpFNwko3SHanK1GvTyRmYXjm7UjT5YzOCt4y-JVAPE6n76IU42DuGy6F-tBQyyvvfzA7Xjp-f3gs2ky7rs/s1600-h/Platform.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbv56DXd6dZggYq1wZNZE3BaQdbyE4QFasX7xbtKG-QlgQ5YuUzysZH4rhrpFNwko3SHanK1GvTyRmYXjm7UjT5YzOCt4y-JVAPE6n76IU42DuGy6F-tBQyyvvfzA7Xjp-f3gs2ky7rs/s400/Platform.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-488110766953602905.post-30828817347203152622010-03-17T22:03:00.001+00:002010-03-17T22:03:42.644+00:00In the beginning...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFz10t0L86GX_F6wmlC7uatmtfWY0ZfbBOeTEI0jkyI2bE5S-W2m0isbZCiKRfvu-PAeRDDiyJBmxKGy6FTcSPQ6MEzuIHowJWBMY87ANEJqPeWUmGMp-xW0_hPNJsHQ5aCFYSVkJChE/s1600-h/nagging+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFz10t0L86GX_F6wmlC7uatmtfWY0ZfbBOeTEI0jkyI2bE5S-W2m0isbZCiKRfvu-PAeRDDiyJBmxKGy6FTcSPQ6MEzuIHowJWBMY87ANEJqPeWUmGMp-xW0_hPNJsHQ5aCFYSVkJChE/s320/nagging+woman.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>God created the Earth and then he rested.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Then God created man and rested.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Then God created woman.</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Since then, neither God nor man has rested.</strong></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13291744622206045699noreply@blogger.com0