dearanonymousfriend

Ramblings from a would be writer

Words…

I haven’t been on my blog much the past few weeks, but, I have been writing.  I have spent the past couple of months writing, thinking and preparing for a Bible Study that I have shared with a wonderful group of ladies at my church.  It is always an honor to speak and this time was no different.

What I have really thought about these past few weeks is words.  How we say things is as important as what we say. Wording is so very important, isn’t it?

I know I have failed miserably in the past to put thoughts into words and also writing before actually thinking things through.  But, I suppose we are all guilty of saying things to others before thinking of how they may come out and how they may sound to the other person.

We truly do not know what is going on inside another person.  We do not know the pain or anguish or stress they may be carrying, yet are not showing it to the outside world.  How we respond in words can make a person’s day or ruin it.

Several times this past year I have spoken without thinking.  I know it has caused pain, but, even after apologizing, the pain, for me, was still there.  Words can damage a heart if spoken in haste or without thought.  So, for the past few weeks, I have been cautious as to how I am wording conversations.

This experience has revealed several things to me.  First, the adage, if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all, should be tattooed in my eyelids so that  I can always see them.  Secondly, don’t expect forgiveness to come easily if you have harmed someone with your words.  I am the type of person who can flare up, but within an hour, I am sorry, and have recognized that I have been wrong.  I have learned not everyone is like me.  Thirdly, lack of words is worse than an abundance of words.  It is a very fine line and I am learning, unfortunately, how to be a tight rope walker.

I have thought in the past that a blog is where you can write things you may be feeling and with that you can release emotions that may not be an easy part of yourself to reveal.  I am rethinking that.  A part of my Bible Study has been to encourage women to be themselves and to not hide behind masks that are so much a part of being a human being, especially a woman.  We tend to hide and only reveal our strength, our firmness, and not allow our fragile side to come out.   Sometimes, in writing words, we reveal a soft side and it can be poked and bruised easily.

I am hoping that through these past few weeks, I have learned much about words and wording and coming out behind masks.    I have always loved words, and putting them together.  I have always loved being able to have a few close friends that I can share spoken words with.  My love of words is still a very present part of me, and I look forward to learning more about how and what to write.    Cathi (DAF)

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Season’s Greetings…

As this year draws to a close, I realize I have not been as consistent in writing this year.  A goal for 2017?  Be more so.

The one thing I have been consistent in, though, is my deep appreciation for those who read my blog and those I read.  To the writers of other blogs, thank you for your words.  They have made me laugh, made me cry, encouraged me and challenged me.  They have given me comfort when you knew nothing of what I was going through.

So, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you a joyous Christmas.  May this holiday season be filled with love from those you hold dearly.  May this season be filled with laughter, unexpected and bringing tears of joy to your eyes.  Most of all, may this season bring a deep and lasting peace to you.

Thank you for being in my life.  Because of you all, my life is fuller.    Merry Christmas.


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Where my mind has taken me….

But, first…. a preface!  Last night one of my dear cousins wrote me and asked how I was doing.  She does this often, and I do miss her and wish we could somehow travel back in time and get to spend more time together. But, I digress…. in the middle of the message, she encouraged me to not give up my blog.    I haven’t written in weeks.  I do have a reason.  I have had this cold/bronchitis/sinus  stuff that lingers and lingers and lingers.  I have taken cold medicine and my mind has been more than hazy.    So, this morning, in my haziness, I forgot to take my cold medicine and amazingly enough… my mind is clear!  And a post came to mind.  So, even though I sound like I am hacking up a lung, I do have something I want to write….

When we were in the process of buying our home, we had a house inspection done.  The inspector gave us a book (literally), and reassured us that this book was much smaller than almost every other home he inspected.  This helped us greatly in deciding to proceed with the purchase of the home.

One of the things in this book, was the notification that all of the appliances were original to the house.  The inspector told us that the next five years would find us repairing and/or replacing these appliances.

That was okay with us, we like new things and we decided to buy them as they went out.  We bought a refrigerator which I love, and we have been watching to see which would be next.  Our microwave will occasionally turn on by itself for a minute.  We laugh at this, and say it must be a Revolutionary ghost soldier.  He hasn’t been around in months as the microwave has only turned on when we press the buttons.

Last week, though, I finished loading the dishwasher, put the little soap thingy in it and went to close the door.  The door would not latch.  I pulled out the shelves and rearranged everything.  Tried again.  No latching.  I looked at the latch and tried to figure it out.  No success!   I sigh, walk into the living room and tell hubby.  He gets up.  He closes the door.  It doesn’t latch.  He slams the door.  Still doesn’t latch.  He pulls out the shelves, rearranges things.  Still nothing.  I hear him looking at latch.  Still nothing.  He comes in and says,  “I don’t know what to tell you.”   He sighs and I say, “It’s okay, I can wash them.”

I love my dishwasher.  I have only had a dishwasher since we moved to South Carolina.  We have been married almost 42 years.  We have lived in South Carolina for 7 years.  That’s a lot of time of washing dishes.

I fill up my dish pan.  I start to empty the dishwasher and I look up.  Although I have lived here for a year and half, it occurs to me that I do not have a window to look out of while doing dishes.   In San Diego I could look out the window while doing dishes and have an incredible view.  I could see the Pacific Ocean, the Coronado Bay Bridge, and Point Loma.  I could watch the sunset.  I could see a view that some people will never see.  It was an incredible view to have.  I never took it for granted.  I was always in awe of the view.    I did not expect to be transported back to that old kitchen of mine while doing dishes here.

As I continued to wash the dishes I thought of other kitchens I had.  I thought of our first kitchen.  How, I stared at a wall while doing dishes.  It didn’t matter though, because I was doing our dishes after fixing him a meal.  I remembered how excited I was to have a kitchen that belonged to us.  I smiled to myself.  I wasn’t expecting to take a journey in my mind.  I was not expecting to have such wonderful memories while washing the dishes.

It took almost a half hour to get the dishwasher empty, to wash the dishes and dry them and put them away.  But, it was a wonderful respite for me.    As I folded the dish towels and closed the cupboards, I leaned down, lifted the door to the dishwasher and click!  It latched!

I just started laughing.  Grateful that we didn’t have to replace our dishwasher so close to Thanksgiving, but, also, grateful for the memories that flooded my mind so unexpectedly.

It’s the little things that happen in life that amaze me the most.    Thanks for stopping by today.  Cathi (DAF)

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Junctures…

The sun shines different ways in winter and summer. We shine different ways in the seasons of our lives. ~Terri Guillemets

In April of 2013 I wrote a post titled “One is Silver…”.   I have thought of this post several times the last week or so.    It was one of those posts that was on my heart when I wrote it and one I think of often.

In it, I talked about friends, old, new and those whom I had just met.   Seasons move on and it is always fascinating to me to see how things change over the years.

Having just reread this post I smile as I realize those friends who I knew were going to move into a different part of my life, have.    I cannot imagine my life without them now.  They are a part of the vein of my life that gives breath and laughter to me.

There were some who were in an autumn phase of friendship, and now I  look back and realize that those friendships were not cared for and sadly, they are dormant.  Sometimes too much time passes and it is hard to renew and start over.  I store the memories in my heart and pray for them, but there is a mixture of resignation, regret and acceptance that this is where we are as friends.

Other friends are slipping into different categories and it intrigues me to see the changes.  It is like I am standing at one of those car wash facilities where you stand at a window and see your car progress through the line.  You see what is happening with the car, but, you are helpless if you notice a window is opened a crack.  You can see the damage slip into the car, but there isn’t anything you can do until the car travels to the end and you can grab a towel to get it dried.

Some friendships are that car with the open window.  You can see the crack in the window and know that something is going to happen.  It is like it is out of your grasp, but there is nothing you can do to change it at the moment.

No, I have never left a window open in a car wash, but, I have imagined it often.  I use it as an analogy for the purpose of this essay on friends.    Sometimes that crack is there, you see it, but, it really isn’t doing anything, so nothing changes.

Other times that crack can let everything fly through and you end up with all this debris thrown about inside.

In thinking of this with friends, I realize that sometimes that debris is necessary.  Change is necessary.  Reevaluation is necessary.   Growth is different in each of us.  A tree’s branches do not grow the same length all together.  Each limb has its own unique character.    It is the same with people.  They are part of your heart, part of your life, but often times life itself, and circumstances and health all get intertwined and friendships suffer.

The good ones are renewed in time.  They come back stronger, fuller.   The joy is greater, the laughter is louder and the heart is more comforted by the other.

Thank you for reflecting with me on friendships.  I appreciate your visit here.

 When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. ~Henri Nouwen

I will continue to think on my friendships.  I strive to be a true  friend,  for we need true friends in this world that is harsh and unfair and at times, unlovely.  So, to my friends, those silver, those gold, those who have a patina and those who are a bit rusty, know that my heart carries you with me.  You have helped to shape me into who I am and for that, I am grateful.  As the season of autumn approaches, know that I am here.  A little bare of leaves, as it were, and a little exposed, but rooted down in the bonds that tie us together.  Thank you for being you.  Cathi (DAF)

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I’m More Interesting on my Blog…

Today I have received two surprises via mail and delivery.  The first was the mail.  I received a card from a friend.  It’s always fun to get mail, especially when it is just because.  There were no birthdays or anniversaries for me and there it was, sitting in my mailbox, a red envelope with my name on it.  I was thrilled!

Inside was a wonderful card…  it had the word blog all over the front of it and at first that is all I saw.  I was outside in the sun and the lettering is shiny.   I then focused on the colored lettering and saw the phrase, I’m more interesting on my blog.  I just started laughing.  This friend knows me well, I thought…

But, she did not mean that, she wrote an encouraging letter inside the card.  The card, she said, reminded her of me.  She then went on to tell me that she enjoys my blog and that she is glad I started writing it.  I felt humbled.   Humbled, because the last couple of days I have questioned if I should continue writing,  and if anything I wrote really made a difference in the greater scheme of things.

I love to write.  I always have.  I laughed when I read the card, well, because, I AM more interesting on my blog!   My confidence level when I write is strong.  I can express myself better when I write.  I look at things and learn more about myself when I write.

In person, well, I tend to be quiet.  Unless of course, I feel extremely comfortable around you, or I have known you my entire life, or you are related to me.  Large crowds creep me out, although I would love to speak to groups of women.  I do well with one on one conversations.  I do not ask questions.  I am trying to change that.  But, on a whole, I am a bit of a boring conversationalist.

I am an  introvert.  I have said this before and I know I will repeat myself.  Saying this and repeating this is a self-defense for introverts.  It somehow allows us the excuse to not say much and not join in.  I am married to an extrovert.   Through the years we have gone to parties and he mingles and goes from conversation to conversation.  I stand there, making small talk.  Nice dress.  Pretty place.  Weather has been good, bad, rainy, hot…  (depends on the time of the year).   That is when I see people’s eyes glaze over and they make an excuse to go get a drink, even though theirs is full.  I don’t get hurt by that, I understand.  Get me one too!

Countless evenings have been spent in agony.  Of course, in my mind, I am making all sorts of conversations, but, they never seem to come out audibly.    Yes, I am more interesting on my blog! 

The other gift today was from a friend who sent me a Bible study book.  It looks fascinating and I cannot wait to start it.  She had gone to a retreat recently and heard this author speak.  She said she had reminded her of me.    Opening the book and seeing the detail and the depth this study goes into, I wondered how this author ever reminded her of me.  I read the author’s biography and again I wondered.   I looked at the author’s picture and it looked like how I wore my hair the last time I saw this friend, so maybe that was it.

Again, I thought,  I am more interesting on my blog.    Maybe that is the key though.  As my friend wrote in the card, she gets to see more of me in my writing.  She said she sees the inside me.

Maybe that’s what this blog is for me…  A place to allow myself to be me.  Maybe that is why  I am more interesting on my blog!

Thanks for stopping by today.  I do appreciate you.  Cathi (DAF)

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Grateful…

Yesterday I was in a funk.  Big funk.  I was tired and weary.  I spent most of the day chiding myself for feeling that way and yet, I could not get out of it.

Finally, late last night I went to my blog.  I figured that I could possibly write, but knew that if I attempted anything , it would come out wrong.

I have a dear friend who, when we are in that frame of mind, say to one another, “Step away from the computer”.   We have both, on several occasions go online and written something that we regret as soon as we hit the enter key.  I did not want to make that mistake yesterday.

The next best thing is to read.  So, I went to my reader section on my blog and got caught up with others in the blogging community.

I am grateful for being able to read other blogs.  It does help me.  I read blogs from all over and it gives me a glimpse into lives of others.  Soon, the focus goes off of me and onto others.  That is a good thing.

This morning I have had the pleasure to chat with two of the bloggers I read.  One is in London and the other New York City.  These women bless me so very much, and I am grateful for them.  They encourage me to break out of my funk just by their words and their conversations.

It does help to refocus your thoughts.  I can have a tendency to withdraw and just keep myself alone.  We are people who need to be with other people, we need to touch lives and allow ourselves to be touched.

What helps you to get out of funk?  I would love to hear from you.  Thanks for stopping by.  Cathi (DAF)

 

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Honestly….

Spoiler alert: This is a long post filled with thoughts I have decided to share with the world.

The title to this post was going to be different from what it is.  I was going to title it Little Miss Life Lesson.  In truth, this post will be because of Little Miss.  She is open and honest with her feelings, dissolving into tears instantly and just as suddenly starting a laugh that causes every creature in creation to stop and join in with laughter.    She is honest.  She is 16 months old and as we all know, at 16 months, we can be honest and open with everything because we have not learned over the years to hold back, step aside, keep our thoughts to ourselves and generally put up walls around ourselves.   So, thank you Little Miss for teaching me to be myself.

I am starting my fourth year of blogging.  As I have frequently mentioned, I named my blog what I did so that I could remain hidden and yet write openly and honestly.  At first I told no one that I had a blog.  I wasn’t certain it would continue to exist.  It has.  I have met so many wonderful people through blogging and when I don’t read posts and don’t write, I miss them.  I pray for them and hope they are doing well.

The past year has been a whirlwind of activity and adventure for me.  I have not stopped often to actually write and think and take stock of who I am and what I am doing.  This is generally true, except during church.  That is when I cannot get up to wipe a sink or take the dog out or find something to occupy my time.  I sit and listen and soak in what I am hearing.  I love church for this reason.  It is a time when quietness floods my soul and spirit and I am able to hear that still small voice inside me.

What I have felt this year is that I have a purpose.  There is a plan for my life.  I am here to accomplish something.  What?  That is still forming in my heart.  It may already be there, ready for me to work with it and finally step into it, but, I am timid.

There, I said it, I am timid.  According to Dictionary.com, timid means this:lacking in self-assurance, courage, or bravery; easily alarmed; timorous; shy. 2.characterized by or indicating fear:

I am afraid to open that door in my heart to discover what is behind it.  I know that I know that I know  the Lord would never do anything in my life that He has not already prepared me for or given me the courage to accomplish, but, yet, I hesitate.  I stand staring at that door in my mind.  I touch the doorknob and pull away, not daring to turn the knob for fear that door will fling open and there I will be…. accountable for what I see.
All of these thoughts have come to the surface for a variety of reasons this past week.  This time last week I was chasing after Little Miss, having our usual good time together.  My daughter’s dogs were close behind, jumping and barking and all of us were creating bedlam that only comes when there is a toddler in the home.  I would swoop her up in my arms and whisper to her, “You get to be with your cousin this week.  Grammy will be able to have both of you together.  We will have such fun!”   Yes, Little Man was scheduled to come up and I was going to lock myself in our toy room with my grand kids and not allow anyone admittance to ‘our’ playroom.
On Monday morning  my heart fell for a couple of reasons as I read a message from my youngest daughter.  Little Man had a fever.  I really dislike my babies to be sick, but, it also meant that Little Man would not be coming to play with me.
 So, our schedule changed and my week continued.   Tuesday was the 15th of March.  I woke up thinking of my Mom.  Tuesday would have been her birthday.  She has been gone for almost 50 years now, but, there are times that it hits you hard even after all those years.  This year, for some reason, it hit me hard.
Then, Thursday came.  St. Patrick’s Day.  I have a love/hate relationship with this day.  I love it because, I am Irish.  I am very proud of my heritage.  I am proud that I can point out which relatives emigrated without going back several generations.  I always feel like there is a dormant jig playing in my heart and when I stop and think about it, I smile.  Growing up my sisters and I would sing and dance each year for our parents.  We would giggle and laugh and perform and argue and push each other, but, it was fun.  It was tradition!  When I married and lived on the west coast I would get up at 4:30 a.m. so that I could call my Dad on the east coast to be the first person to wish him a Happy St Patrick’s Day.    This is the part of my memories that I dislike about the day.  So, on Thursday, guess what?  Yes, I really missed my Dad, who has been gone several years.
By Friday, a sort of melancholy had started to rise up in me.  Add to this, a bout of insomnia and you can imagine the parade of thoughts scurrying around my mind.  The only thing missing was a river dyed green!
I knew I was going to write a post this weekend.  As I thought about it a little while ago,  I realized that one of the reasons I had started this blog was to write honestly and openly.  I have not done this. After telling people about my blog, I hesitated to write certain things for fear I would insult them  or offend people.  What I have done is write myself into a box.  This has become a place for me to write surface things.  Nice things.  inoffensive things, not that I like offending anyone, or try to offend anyone anyhow, but, I think you understand what I mean.
So, today, I have decided to tell you about myself.  I will not change the name of my blog, well, because I like the name. But, let me introduce myself to you….
My name is Mary Catherine.  See?  I am Irish…  Friends call me Cathi.    Cat  hi!    It was spelled Cathy until my freshman year of high school and I thought it would be cool to spell my name with an ‘I’ since there was no ‘Y’ in Catherine.  Yes, as a 61-year-old lady, I feel slightly ridiculous spelling my name with an I.  I always feel like I should do a cheer with a name spelled like that.  Can you guess who my favorite SNL character is?
So, now after four years of blogging, you know my name.  I hope with this small step my writing will be different.  I have hesitated in telling my name.  I had a conversation with another blogger who follows me, she said, after we had privately messaged one another that she liked not knowing anything about me as she could imagine I could be someone famous.   The only thing I am famous for is my laugh.  Everyone knows when I am in a room with my laugh.
Well, now that I have done this small step, ask me a question if you feel like it and I will try to answer it.  I am now going to take another bold step for me and post on Facebook that I have a blog.  For, although I have told family members and close friends I have not told many others that I write.   Today, I walk a bit closer to that door in my heart.  I may not grab onto that doorknob yet, but I am closer to doing that.
Thanks for stopping by.  I appreciate it.  DAF

 

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The Unexpected Year…

Happy 2016!  I am blowing the dust off my blog and writing.  Last week I read my year review of my blog…. it was abysmal to say the least.  I started strong and just faded into the sunset.

A year ago as I put away the Christmas decorations I wondered where I would be this year.  Hubby and I talked about the possibility of being somewhere new, in our own home.  We then laughed and said, “Nah, we will be here still.”

We were wrong.

Last February, on my birthday we received a life changing phone call.  It was from our Realtor.  He told us to get up to the upstate of South Carolina, for he thought he had found ‘our’ house.  We came up, not expecting it to be ‘the’ house.

Again, we were wrong.

The house was perfect for us.  A 15 year old home, that will need work as everything is original to the house.  The next five years will find us replacing and repairing things.  But, the house is perfect for us.  We are so very grateful to be here.

Before we moved, we prayed and felt like this house would be a place of rest and restoration for people.  We felt like we were told to expect our house to be filled with guests.  We figured we would have a couple of people visit for a few days.

Guess what?  Wrong again.

I figured it out one day about a month ago.  The first six months of living here and we had three and a half months of company. Since then, we have had company for another 10 days.

Each person who comes here says the same thing.  This place is so peaceful.    It is.  It is our little haven.  I open the curtains in the morning and thank God for His blessings on us.  Yes, we need to paint and replace the carpet and rake a ton of leaves, but, it is our place to rest.

I have missed writing.  It is the place where I actually sit still long enough to reflect on life.  That is a good thing.  I have missed my blogging friends.  I am sorry to those whom I usually read, that I have not read and encouraged and laughed along with you all.  I promise to do better.

Life sometimes takes over.  It is like a bulldozer and you are swept up in the busyness that can envelop us.  I can hide in the busyness.  It is easy for me to do so.  I can make excuses why I do that  and think that I am right.

No, I am wrong.

We need one another.  We need to encourage and support one another.  This blogging intertwines lives.  We get glimpses into each other’s thoughts and wishes and dreams.  We laugh at experiences we have.  We cry with sorrows shared.  I think that I can write or not write and it makes no difference to anyone.

I hope I am wrong.

So, here is my first post of the year.  In thinking of my blog this coming year, I am hoping to be more consistent in writing and reading.  I await the unexpected this year, for that is where we have adventure and experiences that give us things to write about.

Thanks for stopping by.   DAF

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Happy Birthday Mom…

Today would have been my mother’s birthday.  She would be in her early 90’s.  She died 49 years ago this year, I was 11.

I can remember many things about her, but what always comes to mind, besides her being in the kitchen and singing  and me being underfoot a lot, is sitting on the back porch with her and talking.  I can remember when I was in fourth grade and told her I wanted to become a nun.  Don’t laugh, I really was serious.  I can remember her saying that she would be proud if I did such a thing.  I can remember talking to her about marriage, and her telling me how important it was to marry in the faith (I didn’t), and how she really did not like people who used the local colloquialism of ‘yunz’.  To her, it showed ill breeding.  I chuckle each time hubby says it.  I can see my mom rolling over in her grave.    Many years after her death, I was asked to write something on mother’s for the church’s bulletin on Mother’s Day.   When I was beginning to pack for our move, I found a file of old writings I had done.  I reread what I wrote for the bulletin and decided to share it on her birthday.  So, here is a blast from my past.

 

A Mother’s Gift

Twenty three years ago, I sat in a classroom watching all the other children make Kleenex carnations for their mothers.  I tried to laugh away the hurt of not having someone to make a flower for, and on the surface, I succeeded.

Years passed, along with my childhood and the ritual of drawing a picture for my father while the familiar carnations were made.  By the time I was an adult, Mother’s Day could pass with nary a thought of it’s importance.

When my children arrived, the day took on a whole different meaning.  Receiving my share of paper flowers in a bouquet or glued lovingly in a card, I would gently caress them when no one was looking and think of the many years that I had longed to make them.

Each year I miss my mother more.  Often I think of gifts I would give her if I could.  Funny, when I was younger, I would always dream of giving my mother a mink coat, believing that somehow that was the epitome of a gift.  Now, when I think of the gifts I would give her, I dream of a conversation over a cup of tea, a hug, or even reprimanding her for spoiling her grandchildren.

After my reverie, what lingers is the fragrance of my mother’s life, cherished lessons that are with me still; a gift of laughter in the face of hardships, a song sung from her heart when times were stressful, and memories that cannot be erased. If I can impart these to my daughters and remember that the gift of motherhood comes from children, then I will count myself blessed.

 

Thanks for stopping by today, DAF…

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Accepting a challenge…

When I started blogging I found a blog that I loved to read.  The blogger and I chatted back and forth often and hers was the first blog I would read each day.

About a year ago her blog didn’t seem in my reader.  At first I thought she was taking a day or two off.  Soon, I realized other blogs were taking that first place position.  Any posts of hers were absent.

Six months ago, I realized how much I missed her words.  She has a way to write humor and life.  Reading her work  to me, is like sitting in her living room watching her life unfold.  She is easy and comfortable and real.

A couple of weeks ago, on my reader was a post from her.  I was thrilled.  I commented and she commented back.  We talked about how it is sometimes hard to be consistent in writing.  I suggested we challenge one another to write at least twice a week.  Easy, right?

Well, for her,it is.  She was faithful and consistent and up to the task.  I have written once since I dropped the challenge.  Two days ago while checking my email, I thought of the challenge and chided myself for not writing.  As I was going through my inbox I spotted a name that I was not familiar with.  I looked at the subject line and started to laugh.  The subject?  “Come On, DAF!”   I replied and confessed that I was at least thinking of writing.

This week, as usual, has flown by.  Tonight while checking my email, there was a reminder for me.  A gentle nudge.  Something to refresh my memory that tomorrow is Friday and I have yet to write, while, she has written twice.

So, now my dear blogging friend, here is a post to you.  You have encouraged me many times, you have made me smile, laugh, cry and sigh.  When your words have an effect on someone like this, you have done well.  I appreciate your support and now, after issuing this challenge, I will to the best of my writing ability accept this challenge.

Welcome back to blogging after such a long break, you have been missed.  For those who would like to read some refreshing work, stop by Coming East, you will be glad you did.

Thanks for stopping by, DAF

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