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Laura A Eschbaugh

Sixty and counting- still working on accepting-

Accepting the inability to change others and walking away.

Accepting rainy days, when I desperately need sunshine.

Accepting ice puddles and slippery sand as a chance to practice walking cautiously.

Accepting that I write from my need to write, knowing no one may read what I have written.

Accepting ink spots on paper, fingers and clothing are part of choosing to write with a fountain pen.

Accepting that my GPS does not intentionally give inane instructions to annoy me.

Accepting that my adult children belive the floor is a perfectly acceptable place to store clothes.

Accepting I will see wondrous sites and not have my camera. I need to learn to smile and absorbe the wonder.

Accepting that in two hundred photos, one perfect moment is captured, so continue the quest.

Accepting that God is still working with me and I have a long way to go.

Accepting my awards are in the minutes, minutia, and minuscule wonders in my life. They happened when I stopped— looked up, not expecting a small miracle.

Paula Farrington

What a thrill!

I'd like to thank you -- the members of the Academy of The Ability To Quote Movie Dialogue -- for this Lifetime Achievement Award in Movie Therapy.

This deep honor in recognition of the longstanding commitment to pairing any given situation to some empathetic or uplifting scene in a movie causes my heart to soar in wonder and awe, much the way Meryl Streep and Robert Redford's characters did while flying (amidst Mozart scores) over eye-dazzling flocks of flamingos and unspoiled veldts in "Out of Africa".

I thank all those who have supported this Field of Dreams for so long -- those who knew that " ... if you build it, they will come ...", and who encouraged me with the kind of easy and knowing friendship you see in "Broadcast News" when Albert Brooks tells Holly Hunter he'll meet her "... at the place near the thing where we went that time ...".

Huge thanks to my family for the popcorn and for being very "Alla Famiglia!", like Cher's in "Moonstruck" (when they coulda been very " ... snap out of it!").

"The odd thing about this form of communication is that you're more likely to talk about nothing than something, but I just wanted to say that all these nothings have meant more to me than so many somethings." Tom Hanks said that to Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail" -- and my movie-lovin' heart is saying that to you.

Thank you, Everyone!! (wild standing-ovation applause here while camera pans back and shows recipient patting her heart and beaming back like the Valentine scene in "Julie & Julia" when Paul Child tells Julia, "... you're the butter to my bread ... I love you my darling girl! :)


Prompt #221 Response

Or if that doesn't appeal to you, write about Acceptance. Make a list of everything you associate with "Acceptance," then pick one and flesh it out, or make a litany to "Acceptance." Or begin with, "I accept..."

I accept that I am no longer young…except when I hear that old standard tune “Invitation” on my up-to-date iPod as I use the treadmill trying to walk backward to being young.

I accept that my eyes grow tired… except in late afternoon as I sit to read the last chapter of my book and they trick me and close.

I accept that my body is not so strong anymore…except when I lift something that requires all my effort that I never thought would.

I accept the creaking knees, the aching back, the knobby finger joints, and the slower gait…except when I hear that old standard tune “Invitation” and I remember the once open world in front of me.


I need not a silver satin
gown to swoosh across a
faux ruby carpet on-
instead give me
a gaze in the mirror to admire
a lifetime achievement
award in the form of
well-earned lines,
a serene smile of knowing
earned through countless
fearless frollicking,
dedicated experiencialism
and a verve to keep
adventures brewing
on the paths less travelled.
Yet, if offered a chance
to swoosh anywhere in
silk, satin or velvet, I gratefully accept...


this is a comment on the other posts that are so much fun to read. it would be good to see others posted. the fun of writing together is also commenting on what is posted. i don't mean critiquing...a mean positive pats on the back. just a thought

Karen Bayly

I accept that I can't think of anything fancy to write for Prompt #222.

I accept that my mind is scattered - too many other things going on.

I accept that the play I'm in opens tonight and that the long rehearsal and fours hours sleep a night for the last week will pay off.

I accept that work really sucks at present but that I will be free of it on March 19.

I accept that this isn't very creative but it is honest and inspired by the Horse Muse "Be Kind to Yourself, Karen".

Linda C

I always have trouble with the words accept and except: the spelling, the parts of speech. But there’s more to it than that. See, when I work on acceptance, I have a hard time letting go of exceptance. I accept my job, except for that one complainer who pushes my buttons as soon as I walk through the door. I accept getting older, except for the slack of my neck, covered, more often than not, by a colorful scarf. I accept that friendships should change, except for that seductive relationship where we forget boundaries and ride the fast lane of busy bodied over-involvement. I continue to work toward true acceptance. Its root is appreciation. Gratitude for the complainer, the sagging neck, even the unhealthy dance of co-dependence. When I open my heart to what I want to except, I find the courage to accept. Unconditional. Perfect.

Jocelyn Brown

I Invite acceptance, today.
I accept the times that I idle until I can accept life on life's terms.
I accept God's opinion of me.
I accept love and belonging in God's field of caring.
I accept and welcome appreciation for the value of who I am.
I accept my personal power.
I accept and celebrate diversity.
I accept blessings and abundance in every area of my life from known and unknown sources.
I accept miracles and timelessness in my life.
I accept joy, thankfulness, and surrender to the moment.

Diane O'Connor

I accept:
my height
my shoe size
my long, thick hair
my pouty lips
my nose
my athletic ability
my dexterity
my foreign language ability
But most of all I accept:
that this list is a work of fiction


I accept the following awards:

Best hair in the morning
Best marinara sauce
Most patient parent of son with autism
NY Times Best-selling author for 2 years in a row for 2 books in a row
Best liquid turkey meatloaf
Best nonsense writer trying to get a post in to the writing club at the last hour hoping to take on this writing challenge with grace and craziness


I've competed in categories for "not leaving things until the last minute" and "trying to be successful in ways that are just not suited to me" I have competed in categories of "waking up early to write and exercise to make me a stronger more disciplined person". I have narrowly escaped categories of "trying to be someone I'm not" and "putting others into a box", and "not giving a damn". I am putting my name forth into the "best short animated person" and maybe a "best supporting comedy actress" in a feature film. I want to participate in best costume next year and maybe being a presenter for the best daughter award for several years running. I am winner of Happiest dog and hamster owner as well as "best cinematographer" for creating pictures and images to lift my spirits. "Musical sound and editing" is a natural fit for me and I would love to sit in the pit and listen to the orchestra play the soundtrack of my life. Thank you for this award of life and the camera on my face that still has to smile when someone else's name is called, because after all, there's always next time and I'm happy that we can all be winners.


The editor sent my book back and told me to cut two thirds of it and to use less swirly esoteric language... and to add more illustrations.

I worked on that book for a year.
After eating several cupcakes I took a look at the book.

I accept the mission.
She was right.

Wanda Hatton

At the Academy Awards, I was nominated for the best sender in the birthday wishes category. I was recognized for sending birthday emails to every single member of our clan throughout the year; all 45 of us; including a birthday memory for the matriarch and patriarch of the family, my mother and father, who are with us in spirit. I was thrilled when I won, and, as I was stepping up to the stage to receive the Oscar, one of my 8 inch Jimmy Choo heels got stuck in someone’s throwaway gum (no doubt it was from that brat, Justin Bieber). So I gingerly stepped out of my shoe and walked precariously to the microphone. Oprah presented me with the award, fascinated that the Universe acknowledged my presence. I accepted the golden Oscar, clutching it with ingratiating emotion as I gave my acceptance speech with all the eloquence I could muster. I thanked each member of my family of 45 with a little anecdote on each one. I noticed that Nick Nolte was fast asleep by the time I got to the 5th family acknowledgement. George Clooney and Brad Pitt were playing Oceans 11 Casino games and Helen Mirran and Meryl Streep were nodding off by the time I got to the 15th family member. Most of the audience was leaving and Hoda and Kathie Lee were drinking up in the back rows with a slew of celebrities by the time I got to the 40th family member. I spoke without notes, remembering every agonizing detail of every one of my family. By the time I got to the 45th family member, Billy Crystal came riding out on the stage on a horse with a posse behind him. They chased me off the stage and I slipped right into the orchestra pit, accompanied by Adele who kept singing…You could have had it aaaaaallllll, rolling in the deeeeeep….
With that, I rolled right out into the night…exhausted but exhilarated.

...sorry so late in posting...

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