But not right now, again.

Yes, it was a good idea to take a walk with my husband and dogs this morning, however I missed my morning writing.  It is the best way to start the day for me.  By the time this many hours in the day have passed, I have moved through many spaces.  I like the purity of the morning.  I write what’s there to write.  I write what jumps out from the day before.  I write what I need to say – and what I need to have heard.  I am most fresh in the morning.  Now at 3:55pm, I am far from fresh.  I have had laughter, many tears, and some screaming today. 

The talented Amy Johnson photographed me at the site today.  I wanted grittier pictures for my professional persona.  Pictures that capture the emerging me – whoever that will be.  Some of the pictures we took today may not make ‘sense’ like me hysterically laughing at my friend Lainie’s jokes while resting my arm on torched and scared wood.  The juxtaposition of the blue Colorado sky, snow on the mountains in the distance, green pines covering hilltops (not mine hilltops, however), blackened concrete, twisted metal and me in a purple dress.  I snarled at the camera quite a lot – even shot it a double fisted bird which felt quite good.  (None directed at Amy, and she knew that).  For many reasons, Lainie was the perfect assistant. 

During a casual conversation on a chance encounter, Lainie and I discovered she had once rented my house.  When asked, I usually say I live in the Conifer area because it is too dull to explain that it’s a Littleton address but actually nowhere near Littleton proper…. We are more boonies than many Conifer addresses and in the Conifer school district.  Blah blah blah.  So, for ease sake, I say “Conifer”.  This time, I said, “well, it’s a Littleton address but…” and she said, “wow, I used to live at a Littleton address but...” And, I said “where?”  It began:  “Off Kueshter”,  “Where?”  “Off Rocky Top Trail”  “Where?” until we realized it was one in the same.  She rented it a few years prior to us buying – and she loved it dearly. 

When she pulled in the driveway with my breakfast burrito, I knew I had made the best choice possible in who should be with me today.  No words, she just grabbed me in a bear hug.  I breathed through my tears so my mascara for my photo shoot would not run down my face.  I may want grittier pictures but not that gritty… Then we laughed a lot today.  Lainie is very very funny and she has one of the most infectious laughs around.  We made a great team: me striking a pose, Lainie the lovely assistant, Amy the pro making everything ok.  It was a lovely few hours.

Then off we went to the Airstream to take a few more pics – and my beloved dogs ran off.  On a scent, they were nowhere to be found.  I tromped through the snow in my flip-flops screaming at the top of my lungs.  Amy and Lainie called them too.  We whistled, we yodeled, we pleaded, we yelled.  They had headed toward the vast wilderness where no one lives; where there would be no one to help me find them.  The panic was rising – and, I warn you, I am about to swear here… The fury surfaced: take my fucking house, take my fucking belongings but DO NOT TAKE MY FUCKING DOGS!  

Yes, they came back.  Tigger first, panting hard and slobber covering his face.  I hauled him to the car.  Roscoe emerged next.  Thank you, thank you thank you, thank you, said, guns back in my holster. 

How can I ensure my dogs safety?  They need to run.  They are used to having space to range – yet encircled by our Invisible Fence.  They are living in so many places right now, on unfamiliar terrain.  They have run off before, not often, but often enough to terrify me.  They have always come back.  I need them to always come back. 

They lie exhausted on the rug now.  Not only did they get their walk (on leashes) this morning but they got their walk-about.  Bastards.  And, how I love those bastards. 

After that adventure, the slight wind in my sails evaporated.  The lovely Shoshanna French gave me some of her time to vent and wail – and vent and wail I did.  She heard me, she got it, and she held it.  She gave me some spiritual tools to start my day.  She sent me a book on Kindle.  She offered to talk to me next week.  And, I said YES.  Yes to the love, yes to the support, yes to my darkness, yes to my fear, yes to my deep deep deep rage. 

Tonight we will attend the Conifer Town Hall meeting with much of the community and hopefully a lot of our neighbors.  We will hear from government officials as well as community resources people.  Most definitely, we will experience many emotions.  From what we have seen so far from our elected officials, they are so busy covering their asses that there has been no satisfaction for the victims.  If you are so inclined, you can read the just released official report from the fire.  In there, the truth of the days leading up to the disaster and all the mistakes made is coming forth.  Yet, the powers that be are glad-handing and protecting their own.  My husband is writing a lot more about that and you can read his blog and see his interview on Channel 7. 

It will probably be a good way for me to access some anger when I read the report – and I am not ready yet.  The lack of care, lack of following protocol, blatant disregard for the fire danger – all decisions made by a bureaucrat who lives far far away from any danger – is mind-blowing. 

Right now, it’s one thing at a time, one day at a time, one minute at a time.  And, yes, one day we will forgive the a-holes.  But, to quote my dear friend Andi (for the 3^rd day in a row), “not right now.”  

Just not right now...

What would we do without our dogs?  Seriously.  My dogs keep me sane – along with all of you who read my blog J.  Ever since the fire, my back has been wrecked.  I have had massages, chiropractic treatments, begun walking again, stretch daily, hot tub regularly… Yesterday morning, after yoga and stretching, I bent slightly and it tweaked.  I fell to the floor sobbing.  Seriously.  The emotional pain is heavy enough – do we really need to add physical pain too? 

Today I am seeing DJ at Evergreen Center for Therapeutic Massage, a practitioner who helped Steve Wilson get back to normal after his back injury.  Hoping, hoping, hoping.  It’s my sacrum – and whatever it is down there, it is holding on for dear life!  Shit howdy.  It gives me even more compassion for chronic pain sufferers like my dear husband and my father who have dealt with back pain for years. 

Back pain gives a sense of instability.  I can’t count on my core to hold me.  I can’t stand up straight.  The pain is sharp and stabbing.  I feel older than my years as I hobble around… Hmmm.  So glad there are no metaphorical or metaphysical connections there!

As previously shared, nights are not my favorite.  I start to come unglued after a certain bewitching hour.  When under high levels of stress, the little things are maddening.  There have been so many moments that I have considered hurling my poor Mac across the room due to a frozen screen.  My iPhone shows 3 bars and texts won’t leave my outbox.  Maddening.  I can take info in – until a certain point and then I want to snap or scream. 

My coach suggested that perhaps I might have some anger to express – and work through.  Me thinks she is right.  For those of you on my Abundance circle call last night, you witnessed me on the edge.  The questions, normally harmless and always inspirational, were triggering to the max.  What do I want to create?  “What the F-K do you mean?????”  I wanted to scream.  Instead of screaming, I texted my Circle sisters and dropped the f-bomb.  Thanks for hearing me, ladies. 

My coach and I explored some of emerging themes from this unrequested transformation.  We talked about my chronic need to be good and nice; to do the right thing; to always use my spiritual tool kit; to create an empowering context.  I am not knocking all of that – but for all you “good girls” out there, you know what I am talking about. 

Many of us become trapped in that persona.  I have so many years of personal development under my belt that I am habituated to look for the gift.  Again, nothing wrong here, except that I may skip over some of the ugly.  My client and friend Sara Nowlin is writing a book called Love Your Ugly.  It’s easy to say, not so easy to do. 

I have always preached the ‘embrace your humanity’ theme.  I have always appreciated rawness, realness and deep feelings.  As I mentioned yesterday, I ended 2011 having great success in my business, but feeling out of gas.  Still driven, still trying to prove something, still trying to get somewhere – exhausted.  My 3 week unplug in the Bahamas was wonderful, but I picked the stress back up a mere week after getting back to work.  I love my work; I have found my expression in coaching other authors to write their books – yet I let running my business run me into the ground. 

And, I thought I was busy before!  Hmmmm.  I didn’t know busy.  Now, in addition to my business, I am running the corporation of “Rebuild our Life”.  My fire survivor friend said it took her 8 months to do her inventory – and that was with a paid assistant.  They called it “Operation Shock and Awe”.  We are now setting up a calendar for my friends to join me in the operation. 

Yesterday, I spent the entire day gathering the contact info for all my neighbors who lost homes so we can meet just us, as a group with our county rep and the community support people.  I talked to Sharon at Mountain Resource Center, Susan at Conifer Area Council, Jonathan at Jefferson Conservation District, Becky at the County Building Department.  I emailed Amy from United Way out of Boulder and Garry the Boulder County official who has been so helpful to the Fourmile Canyon folks.  I talked to neighbors, building the list so we can be informed together.  I explored United Policy Holders, a free resource with insurance information (write that one down, just in case…). 

A pressing need for all of us, besides everything else we need to do, is erosion prevention.  Now that all our ground cover is gone and the trees are dead or dying, we are at risk of our mountainsides sliding down the hill.  This is a big concern – and the beleguered Boulder folks dealt with it last year after a season full of rain.  We need to get stabilization of the soil ASAP. 

Doing yoga, with dogs...

What about having some fun, you ask?  How have I been creating fun?  Well… watching movies at night is a nice release although I fall asleep 20 minutes in, but then can’t fall asleep once in bed.  My dogs are fun.  Tigger stretches with me, actually sitting on me while I am attempting to stretch.  It doesn’t help my routine, but it helps my mood.  Take a break you say?  Hmmmm.  Can’t, I say.  Can’t can’t can’t.  Mom always said, “can’t means you don’t want to…”

It feels like I can’t stop.  There is so much to do.  Yes, I know that the adrenaline that courses through my body isn’t so great.  I stop on the massage table.  I stop when I walk my dogs.  I promise to build in some more fun… soon. 

I am seeking more support and help.  We are looking into therapists who specialize in trauma and PTSD.  We will get the help we need.  I will find more ways to access my anger.  I will let myself be with the darkness.  I will love my ugly.  (Thanks Sara.) 

We will rise like the Phoenix from the ashes.  But like Andi said yesterday, “just not right now”. 

3 Weeks

Three weeks ago today, I began what was to be a full day of conference calls before my trip to California.  Nothing seemed amiss, I had no premonitions of life altering forever, I just knew I needed to pace myself so as not to allow stress to overtake me during my busy day….

Were my nightmares of selling our house a premonition?  Was my declaration that 2012 be the year to release attachments an invisible force?  Was the resurgence of my depressive state in January and February a glimpse into my future?  Does God hate me?  Am I karmicly cursed?  Did I not have enough character already?  Do we live in a meaningless and random universe?  I will never truly know.  What I do know is I get to choose the meaning I assign to this – and as always, the crucial question is, does my interpretation empower me?  Right now, the jury is still out. 

Those who know me well are aware that March 22^nd marks the day of the loss of our baby.  I won’t go into that story except to say that every year on the anniversary, I reflect, mourn, cocoon, hibernate – and sometimes create. 

Smack dab between David’s birthday and mine, it’s always a rich, yet heart aching time of year.  Because of the loss of our baby in 2003, we decided to reinvent our life.  No longer heading down the path of childrearing and unsure if we would return to that path, we chose to move further out in the mountains.  We owned land in Fairplay and were beginning to break ground there until one day by chance we found our dream home.  Being off-the-grid and off the beaten path – as well as smaller than our old house – we would never have made the move if our pregnancy had continued.  The gift of the loss of our baby Zoey was finding our forever home. 

In 2006, on the anniversary of Zoey, I spent 4 hours on my deck, writing a life Vision as outlined in Jack Canfield’s book The Success Principles.  In this exercise materialized the first time I declared a desire to write books.  Two years later, I caught myself “Waiting for Jack” and the rest is history regarding my emergence as a writer. 

Every year, I go within on this anniversary so 2012 was no different.  I looked at all my keepsakes from my pregnancy, which I memorialized in a beautiful wooden box I kept in my meditation room.  Yet, this time, I considered releasing all of it – and actually had the thought of burning the box.  Not ready for that, I gently placed the box back on the shelf.  Two weeks prior, when Joleen helped us clean out our laundry room, we gingerly moved the wooden cradle David handmade for our baby.  At some point, its leg had broken.  As we carried the beautiful piece out from under the stairs, I studied my husband to see what he would say.  Expecting to hear, “it’s time to pass this along.”  He said, instead, “let’s move this to my shop and I will fix it.”  He wasn’t quite ready to let go either.  I breathed a sigh of relief. 

The "controlled" burn started on March 22nd.  All remnants of Zoey went up in flames on March 26^th. 

This morning, I found a piece I wrote on March 24^th while still in my annual exploration and process:

Life

If we had known, would we take this journey?  If we had known we would forget who we are, spend much of our lives being our worst enemy, run ourselves into the ground only to one day realize that nothing really matters except love – would we have said yes to this adventure? 

They say wisdom come with age – and we know that is not a guaranteed outcome.  It takes a willingness to become self-aware which is distinct from being self-conscious.  Self-awareness is having perspective on ourselves as well as our silly human foibles without making any of it wrong – or catching ourselves as soon as we begin to make it wrong.  Self-consciousness is extreme self-absorption, which is not wrong either; it’s just a distraction from who we really are. 

I celebrated arriving to my forties as I had heard that the forties are an age when one begins to be less concerned with all the things that seemed so important before.  The hope was a mellowing of the need to be liked, a softening of my drivenenss, a deeper level of self-acceptance.  I believe it has been.  And now, as I turn the corner on my mid-forties, heading towards the next stretch toward my fifties (so as not to be cryptic, I turn 46 on April 2^nd!), I take stock again of where I am and who I have become. 

It remained an unfinished exploration, sitting on my Mac, waiting for a conclusion.  I don’t have one now. 

Instead, I wonder who I will become on the other side of this grand adventure.  Having “released” all my material possessions to their fiery grave, I wonder what will emerge.  Hanging in the unknown is what I need to do right now.  One day, I will know again.  Right now, I just need to let myself not know. 

As my new friend and Four Mile Canyon survivor, Andi O’Conor said yesterday: "Just remember, you will be ok. But not right now."  Much gratitude, Andi! 

Do I contradict myself?

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.  Walt Whitman

At some point I will write about the metaphor of fire. I will write about the transformation that occurred and is occurring. I will write about who I became in the process and the multitude of gifts that enhanced my character.  It is still too early for that. 

Of course I can see the gifts of having community.  Yesterday we wrapped up a second full (and productive) day of site clean up. We were again supported by a crew full of friends as well as those I had never met.  All performing great acts of service as they sifted through ash and rubble, avoided stepping on the various hazards – nails, sharp edges of metal, piles of glass…  Quite a few times during the day, I imagined doing this alone – and stopped dead in my tracks.  No way.  Our community is carrying us.  That is for sure. 

After one more sifting session in the “house”, we are ready for the bulldozers.  The foundation has to come down as the raging inferno compromised the integrity of the cement that remains.  We had our potential builder, Scott Deem, out to the site and discussed where another house might go.  We still don’t know what we are doing.  We are pretty sure we will keep our land – its scorched beauty will grow on us, the views are still extraordinary.  Most of our crew would take their breaks during the backbreaking work by gazing off into the great expanse.  I can see it too.  I know there is magic still there.  I hope last nights snowfall will clean it up a bit more.  Every time we leave, we emerge like minors, covered in soot from head to toe.  My pink Keens are now grey, we are thankful for a hot shower and the ability to scrub off the remnants of our house. 

I held my breath as the first trees came down.  Clint, Kelly, CJ and Sean were the most thoughtful of lumberjacks.  They let me say which ones could go and which I was not ready to release, yet.  When they crashed to the ground, billowing clouds of ash filled the air.  The landscape continues to change before my eyes.  We wonder what will emerge on the other side.  We pray the land will heal itself in our lifetime. 

We had a big archeological find yesterday. Our house was 3 stories not counting my office and loft – which I always liked to say made it 5 stories...  We had storage under the stairs at the far back of the house where I kept my mothers china.  Our crew exhumed almost the entire set, unharmed from the rubble they had been walking over.  It lay beneath their feet waiting for rescue.  Once a cream pattern, some of the pieces are now an iridescent black.  Amazing.  We placed the whole set on top of the foundation and I emailed my worried mom pictures.  Her joy was the gift.  I know this has been hard on our parents.  Parents hate to see their kids suffer.  There is nothing they can do in this case except love us – which they have been doing brilliantly – each time we talk, I feel their pain.  I don’t want them to suffer for us, but I know it’s part of the path.  We love you Dotty, Bob, Jerry, Katie and David!  And, we know you love us. 

As the site is dismantled, the vision of my home is still intact.  I miss the conveniences of my stuff.  I miss my snow boots – much needed today in our April storm.  I miss my mittens and down jacket.  I miss my kitchen, my coffee grinder, my new teakettle.  I miss my popcorn maker, the plastic blockbuster bowl and our couch where we would watch our movies on the laptop.  I miss routines.  It still seems like a bad dream – like my recurring nightmare.  When I think about that, I feel the panic rise.  We are unplugged and homeless.  One day we may feel free – but that is not at all what this experience offers this early in the game. 

My radio show guest and new friend, Andi O’Conor (www.burningdownthehouseblog.com), remarked on another unhelpful comment often offered by the well-meaning, “it would be so freeing to lose everything…”  And, yes, I have now heard it myself.  I know your intentions are good when you say that, but we are not ready to hear it.  Metaphorically, it is freeing to have no stuff.  Realistically, it is a pain in the butt to have to document everything you ever owned.  It is heartbreaking to recall the disintegrated items.  It is devastating to comprehend the great loss. Early this morning, I remembered a cherished stuffed animal – a blue and white little dog that I had as a baby.  I miss that. 

We humans claim we want to simplify in life, yet simplification that is forced upon us is not always welcome.  As I have said before, I have no desire to accumulate the amount of stuff I once had.  It will be simpler at some point.  But in no way shape or form is losing everything to fire simple. 

I know I talked before about not losing every “thing” and I still mean that.  It is hard to describe the reality without saying, “losing everything”.  To say, well, I lost 99.89% of everything I owned when my house burned to the ground is just a bit too cumbersome….  So please forgive me for exchanging metaphors.

This experience is a death, a trauma, an extreme shock to the system.  My muscle memory is still intact.  How it felt to sit on my leopard chaise curled in my blanket next to the cool pane of my French door while sipping my first cup of coffee; the walk down the stairs holding the smooth railing as I went for my 4am pee; the texture of my beloved desk in my office where I doodled as I talked to clients; that deep cellular sense of relaxation and safety as I snuggled into MY bed – all these memories still exist in my body.   One day it was there, and the next it was gone.  Our systems will take a little while to catch up to this fact.  

Writing on

Slept in!  Until 6:35am, that is.  And, woke up twice in the night.  At 4am, I thought I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  I did – and dreamt that parts of the house were still standing.  I was attending a concert and decided to check my office for my tickets – lo and behold the wall with my bulletin board was still there and I found my concert tickets.  As the dream went on, more and more of my house was standing.  For some unknown reason, we lit a fire in the woodstove.  Then little fires started popping up places, one at the neighbors, one in another stove that we hadn’t lit and we had to run.  I didn’t want to leave it, again. 

Tomorrow we will do our second clean up at the site with another crew of angels.  We will sift through the rest of the rubble of the house (still looking for David’s ring and perhaps a few more treasures) then we will move to David’s workshop – an 18x20 building with a loft, full of his tools, reloading equipment, old barn wood and antique furniture.  It is a disaster. 

Yesterday, I interviewed 4-Mile Canyon fire survivor Andi O’Conor whose house burned to the ground (along with 168 others) in 2010.  She was out of town, with only her dog and a car full of camping gear.  Brutally, this was the second time she lost everything in a fire.  When she was a child, her family home burned down.  She chronicles her experience at www.burningdownthehouseblog.com.

It was an enlightening interview to say the least.  I cannot think of anyone better for my first guest since the fire.  My show (“What Are YOU Waiting For?” on Contact Talk Radio) airs on the 2^nd and 4^th Thursdays of the month at 1pm Pacific/4pm Eastern.  Eerily, the day of my last show (3/22), I had noticed the “controlled” burn (it now only gets quotes as there was no control.  But that is a different post…).  I did what all mountain residents inherently do, I searched my fire info sources until I knew what was happening.  Forest Service conducting a “controlled” burn was the posting.  A sigh of relief, and David and I went on hike with the dogs before my show.  During my intro, I talked about the dangerous dryness we had been experiencing and how ominous it was for our summer ahead.  Four days later, that fire raged out of control.

I could have spent hours in the conversation with Andi.  There simply wasn’t enough time to say all we could have said.  There will be more conversations, as she is becoming a great support – and I imagine she will be a great friend.  She has learned a lot over the past 19 months since her fire.  When we first spoke, she warned me to expect this process to take at least 22 months.  She and many others from that fire are not yet back in their homes.  Still.  She continues to deal with insurance snags and ups and downs and twists and turns in the road. 

Andi offered great advice for those who want to support us fire victims.  (Side bar, I have never ever ever used the word “victim” to describe myself.  I am not a fan of the word as I think it can become an entrenched mindset.  I worked as a Victim Advocate for some years in domestic violence and sex crimes and child abuse cases.  Victimization certainly occurs, but we can be trapped in the powerlessness of the definition.  However, I will use the word for now.  It actually means: to be affected, harmed, or deceived by somebody or something.  Affected and harmed - check!  Victimization certainly happened to those that died in this fire.

So back to her advice around support!  Andi cautions that both well-meaning and not so well-meaning people will come out of the woodwork – and then one day, they will disappear and we will miss the outpouring of support, yet be happy that the predators have returned to their caves.  Fortunately, I haven’t dealt with too many predators as of yet.  “Rest assured”, the seasoned tell me, “they are out there”. 

I always believed I was well-versed in dealing with others pain and crisis.  I am trained as a therapist after all – and I bring a personal track record of my own addictions as a young woman; a cancer diagnosis; infertility and losing pregnancies; the death of dear friends; the death of my beloved dog, Jaxson… and a host of other things.  I know how to be in the darkness with people, how to show up, how to stick around.  Through this process, I am seeing that there is still so much more for me to learn. 

You can apply these suggestions to people in any crisis, but of course I am speaking of this particular one.   And, I am putting a big, fat “PLEASE” in front of all of these!

Don’t start sentences with “At least____”, as in at least you got your wedding album, at least your animals are ok, at least you are alive (we know that one particularly!)

Don’t say, “Now you can build the house you have always wanted!” or “you can fix all those things you didn’t like about your house.”

Don’t say, “You are so lucky that your house burned to the ground!  In my house fire, it only partially burned so it was a bigger nightmare to deal with insurance…”  Someone actually said this to me publically 4 days after the fire.  Way too early to hear this one!

Remember that this is a long, long, long process.  We may appear to be fine on the outside.  And, sometimes we are.  And, we have gone through a major trauma that even we don’t know the extent of (yes, a dangling preposition, mom!).  Andi shares that almost 2 years later, she is still remembering things that were lost.  Recently, someone mentioned their graduation pictures from college and she realized she had lost hers.  I too lost all pictures from my earlier eras.  Everything from childhood, college, baby albums etc are gone.  I have pictures from when I began shooting digitally.  And, the lovely Joleen grabbed a bunch of framed pictures off my shelves.  But, I have nothing else in the way of photos.  There were rows and rows of albums in the shelves below my window seat.  In the mad dash, I didn’t remember them.  I really wish I had Jaxson’s “baby puppy” album.   

Be patient with our process too.  Please don’t think it is “good” when we are doing well and “bad” when we aren’t.  We just will be where we will be and we are where we are.  I certainly appreciate the acknowledgment of our spirit and character during this!!!  And, please know that darkness still looms (if you haven’t already guessed that from my blogs…).

Remind us that you still want to do something to help.  I have heard that the support is enormous in the beginning but that people naturally drop away after a while.  This is to be expected.  Life goes on.  So many people have offered to do something.  As mentioned before, in the beginning, we don’t know what to ask for.  So, for those that want to hang out for the long haul, can you ask again in a month?  I may not remember that you offered, or what you offered.  If you say it once (especially in the beginning), I have certainly already forgotten.  I simply cannot retain information.  There is too much rolling through my brain – and the sleep deprivation is taking its toll.

Overall, email is better than calls.  I have 14 saved messages and 10 more every time I check them.  I can more easily save the emails and refer to them later.  What did they say they would help with again????  Ahhh, I have it in an email. 

Rest assured, we will need help.  That damn inventory list is an enormous undertaking.  I need people who love love love data entry - or at least those who will pretend to love it.  I need people to go to stores with me and price everything.  I need to visit REI, William Sonoma, Pottery Barn and more.  Did I mention we have to list EVERYTHING we ever owned?  Eeeeegads. 

Once clean up is complete, we need to spread some love on the land.  We will need crews again to help us seed and plant and nurture that barren soil.  Put that on your list for a month out if it appeals! 

You also can help us by continuing to spread word of my blog.  (the permanent address for it is www.walkingthroughfire.com)  As a writer, there is nothing more fulfilling than the echoing back of my sentiments and message.  Knowing you are out there listening and reading is making a tremendous difference.  It’s keeping me going.  As, I say to my author clients: write on, people!

To listen to my interview with Andi O'Conor (worth an hour of your time especially if you are engaged in this process with me), please go to www.whatareyouwaitingforshow.com and scroll down to the left.  Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.