I did this exercise on my Blogger journal, but I didn't exactly follow the rules. I'm doing it here trying to follow the pattern exactly. If any of you want to try it, you'll find the pattern HERE. I suggest you leave a link to your entry HERE, if you choose to do it. You might even win a small prize for your efforts. But the real prize is the way you feel doing it.
I am the first living baby carried to full term born to a couple in Iowa who had been married for twelve years. Who had the colic for six months, and wouldn’t shut up crying in the evenings unless somebody walked the floor with her constantly, and was potty-trained by the time she was a year old (Mama swore it was the truth!).
I am the child who played cowboys and Indians and was always the Indian, and once in awhile played with baby dolls, but always pretended they were papooses.
Who loved brown sugar fudge and horses and Martin-and-Lewis movies.
Who stored Heidi and the Bobbsey Twins and Hans Christian Anderson in my treasure box.
Who dreamed of owning a pony, and never thought she would be lucky enough to have a man who truly loved her.
I am the teenager who never dated. Who wore can-can slips and saddle oxfords, and loved cats and hated being so different from everybody else her age.
Who didn’t rebel until she was almost 21, and got married shortly thereafter.
Who dreamed of having a dozen babies and knew she would love being a mother. She even had a dozen names chosen.
I am the woman who married a man she had only known for six months or so.
Who loves God and her family and country life.
I am the mother who loves solitude and goes crazy if I have to spend too much time with anybody, and whose moments of perfect bliss come when I’m riding my horse, or traveling with my husband who doesn't even like to travel.
I am the housewife and factory worker who loves folk music and avoids housework, and who spends way too much time on the Internet.
I am the woman who is self-centered and hard-headed and wayward. I am the person who wishes she could change the world and write a thousand songs.
I am the woman who still loves Roy Rogers and Gene Autry, but never thinks about them often.
Who still longs to learn to really play the guitar, rather than just chord. (But doesn't want to put forth that much effort.)
I am the person who dreams of peace and perfection, and is grateful that God and people are willing to put up with her, and who hopes somebody will remember her with a smile fifty years after she’s gone.