NO ORDINARY PRINCESS – PART 3

  I share my “castle” with my two sons. I’m glad my youngest son put up this sign after breaking a jar, but he could have done a better job sweeping up the glass.

I share my “castle” with my two sons. I’m glad my youngest son put up this sign after breaking a jar, but he could have done a better job sweeping up the glass.

At the age of 54, I am navigating a new life as a single woman.

I live in the same two-bedroom coop where I grew up and both of my parents passed away in the last few years. I moved here shortly after I separated from my husband in 2012. I was married for 31 years and my divorce only became final a few months ago.

At one point, all three of my children lived with me. There were definitely challenges having one bathroom, which was something I dealt with when I was growing up. For my children it was a little more challenging since their former home had four bathrooms.

My two sons who live with me are 17 and 23. My 20-year-old daughter moved out to live with friends six months ago and thankfully, we are still very close.

It was a huge adjustment for my children when I separated from my former husband. Now that two years have passed, I’ve seen a lot of progress toward healing for them. But occasionally there have been setbacks and difficult moments.

Anger was an emotion that was taboo for me – in my marriage and while growing up. Sometimes, I’ve felt underlying anger from my children because I hurt their father. All of this has been painful.

With my divorce, I was the “perpetrator” and my husband was the “victim.” I carry guilt because I knew my husband had no idea that I would end our marriage after so many years.

My children are not interested in much of what I’m doing and as far as I can tell, that’s pretty typical of kids their age. Yet many times my children have expressed that they hate my music and writing because it caused me to leave their father.

And if my children knew that I called myself a Princess and their father a Dragon – it might upset them even more!

My illustrations adorn all of the Del Monte pickle jars. I'm only sharing this because my son broke a jar of them in the kitchen.

My illustrations adorn all of the Del Monte pickle jars. I’m only sharing this because my son broke a jar of them in the kitchen.

I’ve tried to be the “Queen of the Castle” where I am.

A few months ago when I felt overwhelmed, I encouraged my youngest son to spend time with his father over the summer break. With both my sons gone now on a three-week trip, I am a Queen on vacation!

There aren’t any crumbs and messes for me to complain to them about. The toilet seat hasn’t been left up. And the best part is not hearing the cacophonous sound of shooting from their video game system.

But I do miss their smiles and sweet love. My sons are wonderful men – tall and strong. My youngest son is over 6′ tall so it’s hard for me consider him my baby anymore.

Since I’ve discontinued taking hormones, my emotions have calmed down. Having privacy and quiet time at home has also been like medicine for me; I feel very peaceful. I am determined not to allow my emotions to build up like they did a few months ago.

For this Princess post, I’ve decided to share a story about how I’m not an ordinary Princess because I don’t believe royalty has to kill cockroaches.

Crown & Roach

My roach story starts when I was home with my 17-year-old son about two weeks ago.

We had just finished dinner and he began yelling to me from his room. I was editing music and had my headphones on. It was so annoying and I wasn’t going to yell back. The Princess decided to ignore him unless he actually got up and came into my room.

But in the distance I could hear him still calling me. I slipped off my headphones and said in an exasperated voice, “Is this an emergency? I can’t hear what you’re saying and if you want me you’ll need to come to my room.”

I had just raised my voice and wished I had ignored him better. And because he continued calling me, I became even more irritated.

I probably was annoyed with him also because when I stood up, my foot hurt. It was because I stepped on a piece of glass in the kitchen earlier in the afternoon. He had dropped a jar of pickles before I came home and the house smelled like dill when I walked in.

This was not a castle for a Princess by any means!

I tromped down the hall to his room. “This had better be an emergency,” I announced as I came into his room.

My son was sweating and darting all around me. “Mom! You won’t believe this large cockroach I saw. Will you help find it and kill it?”

After lecturing him about true emergencies, I said, “No! I’m sure there’s plenty more where it came from. Deal with it!” My large son needed to grow up.

I walked out of his room and no sooner had I sat down at my computer, there he was again. I sighed.

He clearly wanted to be with me. I gave up trying to do anything – it was time for me to focus on him and for us to hang out together.

My son sprawled across my bed and told me all the reasons why roaches grossed him out. And the one he saw was so big that he couldn’t possibly go to sleep tonight. I listened to his fears and reassured him; the roach wasn’t going to hurt him.

As he talked, I was glad he had socks on. Sometimes, he brushed flakes of skin from his feet onto my bed.

Finally, he went out of my room and I put my headphones back on. My peacefulness lasted about five minutes. My door flew open. He was panting and begging me to come to his room to rescue him. 

I was resigned as I followed him.

And there it was!

It’s antennae bobbed up and down. It was about 4 inches long and I’d never seen a roach that big. It was on the wall close to the ceiling. I wondered how I could kill that monster without squishing its guts everywhere.

My son was giddy with excitement to know that I was going to take care of it. After a moment of thought, I gave orders. I told him to bring me one of his big shoes and a broom. As he raced to bring me the items, I kept my eye on the roach.

When he handed me a light canvas shoe, I said, “Come on! I need a heavier one to smash it!”

Then I said, “Go get my cell phone and take a picture of this.”

He snapped a single picture of me. Later on, I wished there were some close-ups – but of course, that was risky because it might have zipped away.

I took a deep breath and lifted the broom. My son snapped, “Wait!” He pulled his bed away from the wall so I’d have more room.

I eyeballed the black insect and then swung my broom at it. It fell right off the wall and disappeared.

Who was I kidding? I knew those bugs were fast. Just as I was thinking how I wasn’t swift enough, I saw it on the floor flailing on it’s back.

I calmly took my son’s big shoe and smashed it.

My son began dancing with relief. It was worth everything to see his face.“

Did you see how big it was? I wasn’t exaggerating, was I?” he shouted.

I smiled and told him to get me a paper towel. As I wiped up the bug, my son confessed that the worst part about killing bugs for him was the spurting sound they made when they were squished. I was so proud that I killed it and the wall was still clean.

I dropped the roach’s remains into the toilet and flushed. I made sure the lid was down in case it clawed its way out. That had actually happened to me once before with a roach I thought was dead. Remembering it was enough to give me nightmares!

I was so glad I gave my son the attention he demanded that night. We bonded over this.

I was definitely a hero and not an ordinary Princess!

Be assured – this is a Photoshop re-enactment!

Be assured – this is a Photoshop re-enactment!

Well it turned out that this story has an even better ending than the one of me simply killing a roach.

The next day, my son came home from school and said, “Mom, you’re not going to believe what happened in one of my classes today.”

I listened and tried to keep a straight face when he told me there was a cockroach on the wall in his classroom. It turned out that his teacher was also afraid of roaches. And it was a male teacher, which I found humorous.

My son said, “He went out of the room because it bothered him so much.”

I asked, “So then what happened?”

My son beamed and said, “I saved the day.”

I grinned and replied, “Really? What did you do?”

He said, “Oh, mom! It was so easy – I just took my shoe off and got a broom to knock it off the wall. Then I smashed it, picked it up with a paper towel and threw it away.”

I could hardly believe it.

This was just one of those sweet parental moments – when you realize how much your child has truly learned from you!

There’s something about me holding a broom that is reminiscent of a witch. But I’ll save that thought for the next story.

There’s something about me holding a broom that is reminiscent of a witch. But I’ll save that thought for the next story.

© 2014 Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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MY DREAM – PART 2

MY DREAM

Click the blue link below to play my song:

My Dream Home Recording 4-8-18

MY DREAM INSTRUMENTAL-Copyright 2012 by Judy Unger

Click the link below to read about and hear my first version of this song:

STORY BEHIND MY DREAM-PART 1

MY DREAM

Copyright 2014 by Judy Unger

 

Like the sky after sunset my dream still glows

A river of warmth, through my body it flows

Filling my soul, it makes me whole

Helping me cope, my dream gives me hope

 

Like shade in the summer, a misty spring rain

My dream is so soothing; it heals all my pain

Making me sure, then I’m secure

I may be low, but I’ll never let go

 

My dream it feels so certain; I wait behind a curtain

One day I’ll face the world’s embrace

And the message I’ll bring with joy when I sing

My dream is where I’m going; it’s all about my knowing

With courage I grew and I know it’s true

My dream will get me through

 

I may be stressed, but my dream has me blessed

One day I see I’m soaring free

 

My dream I hold so tightly

In darkness it shines brightly

All my desires, my dream inspires

My dream will save me; the gift God gave me

My dream is where I’m going; it’s all about my knowing

With courage I grew and I know it’s true

My dream will get me through

My dream will get me through

–  

Recently, my apartment has been quiet because my two sons are on a three-week trip with my ex-husband.

It has been interesting as I adjust to the solitude; I’ve been writing a great deal. Soon there will be a lot of new songs and stories added to my blog.

At this time, I want to share a new song arrangement for my song “My Dream.” A lot of my upcoming stories will reflect more of my feelings surrounding dreams.

Like shade in the summer

Currently, two themes that are constantly tangling in my life are: Letting go and holding on.

I want to hold on to memories, hope, love and dreams.

I want to let go of: judgment, criticism, guilt and sorrow.

My dream shines brightly

I did write some new chorus lyrics for this second version and they are those words above. This is now only the second time where I’ve used the word “God” in my lyrics. It is because I have found myself to be far more spiritual and that has begun to emerge in my writing.

My dream definitely illuminates the darkness in my life. Unfortunately, my eyes have continued to be a curtain for me.

I love to dream of when that curtain opens someday.

Like the sky

Now I want to share an exchange of comments between Sandra Blake Callahan and myself. Sandra, who is terminally ill, wrote a beautiful post on her blog aptly named “Dare We Dream.” Clicking on it is a link to her story.

Dare We Dream?

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Oh, Sandra – today I sang a new version of a favorite song of mine named “My Dream.” You were in my mind. Really, dreaming is such a beautiful way to go to places that uplift me. It keeps me smiling and peaceful. I wish that for you always.

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Judy, I studied the Holocaust while in college. I did not fully understand how people who lived were able to go on with their lives. Then when I read
 the book “Man’s Search For Meaning,” it simply validated that there are some things that can never be taken from us. When we stop dreaming, hoping and finding meaning in our life – we are not really living. I cannot imagine where one finds the strength to do these things when suffering the loss of a child. You inspire me.

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Your beautiful words always touch me deeply Sandra. You are so right about finding meaning from life. Somehow, I was able to transform my suffering into meaning. I will always be sad that my son died, but I’m not defined by his death anymore. I have chosen to look at love as my salve – it started out as love for my surviving children and now I’m learning that loving myself enough to follow my dreams is what matters.



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Love can do so much for us if we let it.

MY DREAM and butterflies© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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MY JOURNEY IN SIGHT – PART 6

Spider and the Eye

Sometimes, if feels like my eye problems have taken over my life. I seldom perform with my guitar anymore and prefer to be in my apartment. My interest in traveling has disappeared.

A few weeks ago, I described my struggle with eye pain and subsequent depression to my hypnotherapist, Connie. I said, “It’s like I’m wrestling with a treacherous white spider.”

I told her how when I had the upper hand (where I had distracted myself from the pain), I stood on top of that ugly spider and shouted, “You are not going to wreck my life!”

And then there were those other moments.

I could see myself lying prone on the floor held by the painful grip of that “white spider of sadness.” I was discouraged and overwhelmed; overcoming it felt hopeless. And I felt like I was a failure for not being able to accept it.

Connie listened thoughtfully and then she said, “Let’s talk about acceptance. How would you define it?”

The first thought that came into my mind had to do with grief. Healing from my son’s death took a long time and was certainly the hardest thing I ever had to accept. I said, “My struggle with grief was much harder than this. For years I was angry and certain my life was ruined. But with healing, I have truly accepted that he is gone and will never grow up. I’ve chosen to look at him as my angel. I can now see that his death didn’t ruin my entire life and even had a positive affect upon me in some ways.”

Then I mentioned a few words that came into my mind to define my acceptance. They were: resignation and surrender. I battled grief for many years and with my surrender came peace.

Connie’s eyes were bright when she said, “Those are interesting words to define acceptance. But surrendering sounds like giving up. Is it possible you can’t accept your eye pain because you still are searching for a remedy that might help you? If that’s the case, why would you want to surrender?”

I took in her words and grinned.

It was another one of those moments where I wanted to give her a huge hug.

She was absolutely right!

This butterfly is a Rose Swallowtail. I love to add my own artwork to stories on my blog.

This butterfly is a Rose Swallowtail. I love to add my own artwork to stories on my blog.

Although I was miserable, my dry eye doctor told me I had to wait several months before making an appointment with her in order to give the current remedies time to take effect.

I was on hormone replacement therapy and began using a testosterone compound cream on my eyelids. I prayed these two things would help alleviate my dry eye pain. The theory behind taking hormones is that menopause causes dryness.

Unfortunately, I suffered even more because the testosterone cream I rubbed on my eyelids caused a burning sensation in my eyes. I diligently tried not to rub my eyes but it didn’t make any difference. My eyes were on fire!

It became difficult waiting to see my doctor. I plodded through my days trying to distract myself from the pain and fogginess in my eyes.

Then I became extremely emotional and edgy. When I had a blow-up with my son where I was shrieking at him, it was really out of character for me. I was always able to hold my emotions in check and although I wanted to express myself more now – flying off the handle was not my style.

Sunset 3

I had been taking hormones for 2 ½ months. It was clear they weren’t helping and perhaps were actually contributing to my moodiness. I decided to discontinue them. I still used the testosterone cream every night, as well as Restasis eye drops, compresses and eyelid wipes.

Finally my eye appointment arrived. I was determined to convince this doctor to give me a referral for serum tears. It wasn’t simply that my HMO would pay for it – it was because having those tears made from my own blood was a complicated process. I knew a woman who travelled to several far away locations to get them because they made such a difference for her.

When my doctor came into the room, she was very serious. This dry eye specialist was very professional and I could tell she cared even though she didn’t smile.

I updated her on the regimens I was following. Ironically, tears streamed down my cheeks when I shared how my life was horribly affected by my dry eye condition.

I became very emotional when I said, “I’ve fallen to the ground three times since I last saw you. It wasn’t because of my vision. It was because my eyes hurt so much that I can’t really open them to see where I’m going.”

I began sniffling and said, “I wish I could have seen you sooner. I’ve been waiting months for this appointment!”

After she examined me she said matter-of-factly, “I’m going to try something on you today that has helped some of my other patients.” My curiosity piqued – what was she going to do now?

Spider and the Eye B&W

She asked me to rest my chin and press my forehead against a large piece of equipment. Then she opened a bag of tools that held needles and tiny tweezers. My heart pounded as she explained how she was going to open my tear glands and squeeze out the clogged oil.

She began by poking my upper and then lower lids repeatedly with a sharp tool. She said, “I can see your oil is very thick. If this helps, you can come back again and I’ll do it more.” All I could think of was how I wanted to run away forever from this hospital!

I flinched with every sting. As she worked she also pinched and squeezed my eyelids; I was gasping and hoped it would be over soon.

My eyes were sore and dripping as I walked to my car. I prayed it would help. But as I drove home, I was elated.

It was because she agreed that I could get the serum eye drops. Within a week, I would be receiving the information for them.

Eye on Facebook

I subscribe to a support group for dry eyes on Facebook. There are approximately 150 members and most everyone is going or has gone through so much of what I have. Many members bemoan how nothing the doctors gave them helped, but occasionally someone mentions a miraculous moment of relief they found.

About six months ago, I asked if anyone on that forum knew about serum tears. No one replied or mentioned using them. That told me that it was definitely a tough remedy to obtain. But a “friend of a friend” spoke to me about them and I definitely wanted to get them.

After my recent appointment, I wrote an update about my eye condition on this site. I ended my update with these words:

For me, the worst thing about this condition for is depression. I don’t want to live this way for the rest of my life and it gets me down. I try to stay hopeful and will certainly share how those serum tears work once I get them.

After I wrote my update, I received this comment:

Judy, my ophthalmologist told me about what you’ve described and said this: “Doctors USED to take needles and open up the glands and then express the clogged oil but they found out that it did damage to the oil glands so that isn’t done anymore.

And then that same day, there was a post from a woman who had used the serum tears. She wrote:

I just wanted to share: For the last five years I’ve suffered terribly with severe dry eyes. Autologous serum eye drops gave me my life back. I’m not exaggerating. It was mentioned by the fourth doctor I saw as a last resort. It should have been at the top of the list.

Here were more comments that followed her post: (my words are black and bold)

Why are doctors so hesitant to try them? Do they have a lot of bad side effects?

They don’t. Over and over, doctors kept pushing the pharmaceuticals even after I explained that they didn’t help and caused extreme irritation. This is what happens with medical treatments that are proven BUT have no pharmaceutical company to promote them – doctors don’t hear about it. The serum drops changed everything. I’m so glad I didn’t give up!

I believe it’s mostly just lack of familiarity. Doctors don’t read the studies so they aren’t aware how good serum drops are for healing the ocular surface, nerve damage repair etc.

I was ready to pluck my eyes out. I’m not exaggerating. It’s only been a week and I would say there has been at least a 25 percent improvement. My eyes are definitely functioning better. The associated Blepharitis has dramatically improved, as well. I am thrilled that I tried this.

Well, I have been trying to get my HMO to prescribe them for me. I had to try a lot of useless remedies first but now I’m going to get them soon. I even met and spoke to another woman who told me that they really helped her. So thank you for sharing and I’m so glad you found relief!

I am so grateful for the wonderful friends in my life. I took this picture to capture a beautiful table set for dinner by two friends who wanted to lift my spirits.

I am so grateful for the wonderful friends in my life. I took this picture to capture a beautiful table set for dinner at the home of a good friend. She and another friend wanted to lift my spirits.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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NO ORDINARY PRINCESS – PART 2

This is a great photo for me to share as a Princess. I am about seven or eight in this picture.

This is a great photo for me to share as a Princess. I am about seven or eight in this picture.

When I began my blog, writing was magical and healing for me from the start. For the first time in ages, I started to see humor in my life. I know that helped me cope with the tremendous stress I had going on at the time.

Perhaps the title of “No Ordinary Princess” has inspired me because suddenly I have many funny things to share.

Taking this photo “re-enactment” made me nervous. That’s the only electronic key left for my car and I can’t afford to drop it!

Taking this photo “re-enactment” made me nervous. That’s the only electronic key left for my car and I can’t afford to drop it!

Last week, I definitely did not feel like a Princess.

I was racing out of my house to meet a friend for lunch and just when I finished using the bathroom and was ready to leave, I accidentally dropped my car key.

My unfortunate timing had the key sailing down the drain precisely at the moment I flushed.

I dropped to my knees to grope into the toilet (pee only), but it was long gone. I still have one more and aside from taking the photo above, I plan to be very careful with it.

Judy in the forest

I’ve gotta look where I’m going!

Being careful is something I really must focus on. Seriously, I’ve fallen a few times recently because when my eyes hurt, I don’t fully open them to see where I’m going.

With humor I also realize that I must watch what I’m doing when I’m text messaging. Sometimes it’s absolutely critical that a message doesn’t go to the wrong person.

The day after losing my key down the toilet, I had an embarrassing experience related to texting. It all began on the day where I planned to record guitar for three of my songs in the afternoon.

I was very much looking forward to it because it had been two weeks since I had recorded anything; usually I recorded song vocals several times a week.

But Darrin (my recording engineer) had been on vacation for a week. When he got back from his trip he had a lot of things to catch up on and was too busy to fit me in.

Finally, he was able to schedule a session with me.

I wanted to be prepared. Whenever I record guitar, I always change my strings. The guitar sounds so tinkly with new strings and that sweet sound lasts for about six hours.

In the morning, it took me about 45 minutes to change my strings. After that, I practiced and kept tuning my guitar.

Changing my strings

Around lunchtime I received a message from Darrin cancelling our appointment; his prior session had unfortunately ran over.

I texted him and begged to know if he could fit me in for even half an hour. He replied:

I’m at a session in Hollywood 😦 so I’m not at my place. Otherwise I surely would!

As waves of disappointment swept over me, I began to mull over alternatives. I remembered there was another studio I had recorded at six months earlier. It was a little farther away, but that could solve my problem.

I made a phone call to the other studio and even though my appointment was a few days later, I felt better. My guitar strings would still sound okay. I’d have my guitar tracks done and when Darrin had time I could record vocals.

I felt so proud of myself.

I decided to share my good feelings with my therapist, Connie, after texting her to confirm our next appointment. I wrote:

I was supposed to finally record with Darrin today and he cancelled at the last minute. I was so bummed. He’s been too busy to fit me in for 2 weeks. I’m going to record guitar with this other guy on Thursday. That will get me back on track. Empowered!!!!

I yawned and stretched after taking a brief nap. I looked over at my cell phone and horror began to spread through my body. The message I thought I had sent to my therapist had gone to Darrin!

I quickly wrote:

Please ignore my message. It’s pretty funny because I meant to send it to my therapist. I’m having a bad day and accidentally flushed my expensive car key down the toilet.

The truth was I hadn’t flushed the key down the toilet that day (it was the day before), but I put it in my message for effect. All evening I kept checking my phone for a response from Darrin and when there wasn’t one I didn’t sleep too well. Later the next day I decided to send another message. It was:

Question:  Are u ever going to let me come to record again? Sorry about my message yesterday. After being so overworked, I’m that sure wasn’t a nice message u received from me. I would love to sing vocals when u have time. Please forgive me.

A picture of Darrin at the recording console with his dog nearby. She's never in the room when we record, though.

A picture of Darrin at the recording console with his dog nearby. She’s never in the room when we record, though.

EPILOGUE:

Darrin easily forgave me. I was nervous for the next few sessions, but he was especially kind and eager to fit me into his schedule. It turned out that it wasn’t so horrible.

I did go to another studio to record guitar for 90 minutes. My fingers were sore and I came home with a lot of tracks to edit. It probably took about 12 hours of my time to edit the recordings for those three songs.

But when I mixed those recordings in, my guitar had a booming sound. I ended up not using them and had to use another recording. Below are some recent guitar mixes I’ve done:

WONDER WHY Guitar & Karaoke-Copyright 2014 by J Unger

MY DREAM #2 Guitar & Karaoke-Copyright 2014 by J Unger

NO WORDS #2 Guitar & Karaoke-Copyright 2014 by J Unger

I like adding pictures to my stories. Taking a walk every day helps me clear my mind as I listen to the music I’m working on.

I like adding pictures to my stories. Taking a walk every day helps me clear my mind as I listen to the music I’m working on.

A week later, I had dinner with a few friends. The women all laughed when I recounted my story about Darrin and the misdirected text message. It seemed that everyone had a story of their own to share.

My friend Linnae guffawed and said, “Just make sure you look at the name on top before you push send!”

And how ironic that only a day later, I sent a message to Linnae that was meant to go to Darrin. Luckily, it wasn’t anything embarrassing. Linnae wrote back. (Her words are in blue):

Hey you texted the wrong person again. Glad you weren’t talking shit about me. LOL!

I wrote back with:

There is not a shitty thing I could imagine about you except all the crap we’ve both had to deal with!

You are too funny! Be sure to look at sender BEFORE you send. Good thing you’re not into “setting.” Damn auto-correct – I meant “sexting!”

I quickly texted her back while laughing aloud. I wrote:

Thanks for setting me straight. SEXTING sounds like the excitement I need LOL!!

All of a sudden, my eyes opened up and my heart started pounding. I wrote her one more time.

Oops! I thought I sent that last message to the wrong person!!!!

iPhone message

damn auto correct

ThThanks for setting me straight.

© 2014 Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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