What are you (or a character) recovering from right now?

Spinning. Every thing is spinning. Even when I close my eyes. How is that possible? I'm laying down, flat on my back, on my non spinning bed, and yet it feels as though I'm stuck on a merry go round.
My stomach becomes a jumble of knots. I take a deep breath, trying to calm it, but the pressure just makes it worse. On my exhale, the whole world dissolves into my stomach and the need to empty it.
I fall off the bed and army crawl to the door, barely making it to the bedroom trash can.
Being in semi-upright position makes the spinning increase. I moan and flop onto the floor next to the garbage, trying to ignore the smell and how it's increasing my chances of another visit.
My fingers spread through the thick carpet. I wish I could ground myself. Find my balance where everything stays where it's supposed to be.
What is going on with me? This is the second episode this week. Should I call a doctor? Everything I read online is inconclusive, could be a million different reasons for my vertigo.
With my stomach more settled, I slither back to the bed. Pulling myself up must look like I've lost all control of my body, which I have. How humbling this experience is. When I don't have my health, I don't have anything. I'm a slave to my body. I hate this feeling of powerlessness.
"Mommy, you 'kay?" My little guy climbs up next to me. I hope he hasn't spilled the contents of the trash can all over the floor.
"Mommy sick." I get out.
"Sick?" His voice holds a note of concern. "Cuddle?"
I nod. "Cuddle."
His warm little body snuggles up to mine. He burrows his head into my shoulder and rubs my cheek. The motion makes the spinning worse, but I can't bear to ask him to stop. He's showing his reassurance the only way he knows how. "Love you."
"Love you, buddy."
I lie still. All I can do is pray. Pray that a miracle will happen. Pray my world will go back to normal. It's all okay. Breath in. Breath out. Repeat.

I wish an alarm would notify me whenever... (Finish this sentence)

No more alarms. That's it. I've had it with alarms, beepers, anything that disrupts my day.

I don't have a doorbell. I don't have an alarm clock. I turn off the beepers on the washing machine and dryer so I don't have to listen to them whenever a load of clothes are done. I don't have a watch that beeps every hour. If I could disable the alarm on the dishwasher, I would do that too. And don't even get me started on the microwave...

The only alarm I actually appreciate is the timer on the range oven. If it weren't for that, I would burn tons of food.

Yes, we have an alarm system in our house, but it doesn't beep every day. Only when we accidentally set it off.

Our lives are so full of noise and distractions. It keeps our minds so busy, we miss a lot of small, quiet promptings. It's not that I mind noise, but since I am an audio learner/observer, it really affects me.

So, that's my response to today's prompt. No More Noise! No More Alarms! I'm going on an alarm strike.

Write about a souvenir you have bought or received

The gray and white Alaskan Husky looks just like the stuffed animal in my hands. She even has the same blue eyes, and curled tail. I hug my stuffed animal. Holding the memory of my trip to Alaska, it's become priceless in the few short minutes since I bought it.

The owner straps the dog into a harness, then attaches it to a snow sled. The dog is a lead dog, one of the best pullers, and most obedient. It's makes me proud of my souvenir. This pup shows me that it pays to be a leader, confident and self assured.

The owner mounts the snow sled and takes off over the snow covered ground. The dogs bark and leap forward in great strides, their muscles rippling beneath their thick coats.

The skid of the skis across the snow make a smooth gliding noise. The dogs' paws are broken into unsynchronized symphonies of pounding. A clear whistle directs the dogs. I listen, trying to decipher the different signals.

I imagine what it'd be like to travel this way. What if this was the only mode of transportation? Would I be able to train dogs to pull a sled for me? What happens in the summer when the snow is gone? Would they pull a wagon?

I take a deep breath. My nose prickles against the chill in the air.

Tightening my arms across my chest, I tug my coat tighter. It's getting dark, even though it's just past midday. I wonder how cold it will get tonight.

My stomach rumbles. I've forgotten to eat lunch, too distracted by the spectacle of the dog sledder.

As I walk toward the town center, I scan the little shops. Their weathered wood exteriors provide a cozy contrast to the snow covered ground.

My feet are beginning to get cold inside my Ugg boots. I wiggle my toes and enter the first cafe I spot. As I take a seat, I think of the reasons I came on this trip. Not only to visit a friend, but to enjoy the beauty and freedom Alaska holds. It's a majestic place. Inspiring. I feel more independence and confidence since coming here. I've proven I can do something on my own.

I place the gray and white stuffed animal in front of me. It looks like a kid's toy on the wooden table, young and vulnerable in a grown up atmosphere. It makes me wonder if I look the same. Am I a kid, trying to live in a grown up's world? Is 21 too young to travel the world by myself?

I smother the thought and take a deep breath. I have two more days here. Two more days of endless possibilities and discoveries. Who knows, maybe I'll spend them exploring the untamed territory. Without anyone telling me how to be and what to do, I might just find out who I really am.

I stroke the fluffy coat of the husky and smile. I think I'll do just that.

Write about a time everything changed in a blink of an eye

I've been waiting for this moment for the last two years. But now since it's here, it feels different than I anticipated. Instead of excitement, I feel fear. Fear of the unknown. How will I survive on my own? Without someone there to tell me what to do, or how to do it. I never realized the freedom that came with growing up could be so daunting. My dependence made me brave. Will my independence make me braver?

I glance at the bare, twin bed in the corner. The rest of the room is just as empty. The small desk with drawers under it are cracked open, with barren shelves. The closet is white, with nothing distinguishing about it. I feel just as bare as the room, like a book full of blank pages, and no story to fill it.

I fear I will make mistakes. Mess up. Without my family to help and guide me, how will I know what is right? Or wrong?

My belongings I brought with me from home fit into a couple suitcases and a clothes hamper. The expensive comforter and sheet set I bought for my new bed looks a lot less appealing than it did when I bought it. I'd hoped it would ease the transition, having a super comfy bed to fall into at night. Now all I want to do is go home and never look at it again.

I have a couple hundred dollars to my name, and a job hunt to fulfill before classes begin in two days. It feels like a huge mountain stands in front of me, and I have to climb it. By myself. Without a map. How will I ever accomplish what I set out to do?

My parents carry a couple boxes into my room.

"We wanted to get you something special for graduation, but wanted to wait to give it to you until you moved to college. That time has come. So, here you go." My mom sets down a computer screen box onto the empty desk.

My dad follows suit with what appears to be an actual computer, and a printer.

I'm shocked. I cover my mouth with my hands, but can't contain my excitement and jump up and down. Throwing my arms around them, I begin to cry. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

My dad pats me on the back. "We wanted you to have access to your own computer and the internet so that you wouldn't have to spend all your time at the busy library."

I cry harder. They are so thoughtful. I feel blessed to have them in my life.

It takes me a couple minutes to collect myself. When I do, my dad has tears in his eyes, and my mom is crying.

"Well, we better get going. We have to get home to do chores before dark, and you need to get all your things put away so that you'll be ready for school."

I nod, unable to speak. My throat constricts, and I know I'm about to start crying again.

My parents move toward the door. I follow them through the apartment. It felt so big when I looked at it before deciding on staying here. Now it feels like the walls are closing in.

As we get to their car, my mom turns around and gives me another hug. "We love you. We're only a phone call away. Call us if you need anything."

"Thank you." My words wobble.

I stand there until they have turned onto the road and driven past the building, obscuring them from view. Then I dash back into my apartment and watch out the window until they disappear down the road.

My chest feels empty. Hollowed out. I wonder how my brother did this two years ago. How did he keep himself at college instead of jumping in the car and following them home. It's a serious struggle I'm battling. How do all the other college students do it? Even though I am only an hour away from my home, it feels like an eternity.

"Let me guess, a freshman? First semester?" A girl with dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail stands inside my door frame, with arms crossed. She looks amused, like she's seen this same situation a million times.

"Yes." My voice comes out as a croak.

"Well, if you're serious about this whole college thing, you'd best get unpacked. Otherwise, you'll be out the door before you know it. Trust me, the sooner you get your things in your room, and make it belong to you, the more it'll feel like a place you belong. It'll never be home, but it'll help make the transition easier."

I nod my agreement and back away from the window.

"I'm Mary, by the way. You're new roommate." She holds out a hand and I shake it. "Welcome to apartment 403."

If you were to teach as a career, what would you teach?

Riding Coach

"Keep your head up and watch where you are going." I demonstrate the proper position, hoping he will follow. "Good. Your horse will go where you are looking, because your body naturally leans where you want to go, and so your horse will adjust to follow."

I give my mare, Missy, a gentle nudge and she plods forward at a lazy walk. "Keep your hands in front of your saddle horn. You can steer from there, but most of your cues will come from your weight, legs, and voice. That's why we're riding bareback, so you can feel your horse shift as you do."

The young man I'm teaching, Evan, follows suit, but he leans too far forward, coaxing his horse to pick up pace and pass me.

"Now, with Pleasure, you need to keep your gate calm, collected. You're showing the judge that you are in complete control of your horse. Western Pleasure is supposed to be flowing, easy, gentle. You and your horse are one."

He nods and leans back, as I've taught him. But he leans too far and his horse stops. I love that his horse is picking up on the cues he's giving him immediately. It's a sign that he's teachable and willing to listen to the cues.

"Do you know what happened there?" I ask as I catch up to where Evan and his horse stands.

"No, not exactly. I leaned back and he stopped."

"Correct. Because that's the cue you gave him. You leaned back and rounded your back to keep balance, thus indicating you wanted him to stop." I motion toward his horse in the stopped position. "That was very good on both your parts. The key to slowing your horse, is to stay in upright, yet relaxed position. Your horse will feel if you're tense, because your body will naturally tighten, thus alerting the horse that it needs to be on guard. You see, being a prey animal, horses use every cue from you to sense danger in their surroundings. That's why you must always be calm and relaxed."

He rubs his head. I know I've told him all this before, but a little refresher doesn't hurt.

"Let's try again. This time I will just watch." I move Missy to the center of the arena and watch as Evan does a few circles. He's sitting up straight, relaxed, and his gelding has responded accordingly. He's at a slow walk, but still too fast for my liking. We'll work on that later, for now, posture.

"Keep your shoulders back. Your left one is moving forward. Heels down, toes in, which I know is hard without stirrups, but it will strengthen your legs."

He adjusts his body, looking much better.

"Excellent. Let's pick it up to a trot."

He does a wonderful job at transitioning into the next gate and I applaud him. His posture is still great, but he's bouncing in his seat more than I'd like.

"Go ahead and feel your horse under you. Instead of fighting against his movements, go with them, even if they feel uncomfortable at first. Your muscles will be sore tomorrow, because we're building new ones with these new movements, but they will help you keep your balance and enable you to flow with your horse."

He rounds his back a touch and allows his body to flow with his horse's stride. At first I can see the pain on his face. The trot is the hardest gate to have a smooth ride with, but if he masters this, he will be able to master any other.

After a few more circles around the arena, I ask him to reverse and lope. He does a wonderful job, and his bottom is staying in rhythm with the horse. It's a beautiful thing, seeing horse and rider in symmetry.

"Go ahead and slow him down some. His natural lope is much faster than a pleasure gallop."

Evan adjusts his reins and seat, leaning back, and his horse begins to break into a trot. But Evan urges him on, getting him back into a lope. It takes a few more rounds, but he eventually gets his horse to a slow, easy gallop. His horse's head is low and his gate reflects his ease.

"Let's stop and have you come to the center."

Evan brings his horse up next to mine. "How did I do?"

"Very well. I think with some more practice, you'll be running circles around me."

"I already am." He counters.

I laugh. "Almost. Let's work on your flying lead changes next. I believe it will be a good change without the saddle. Maybe he will feel your cues and transition from one lead to the next easier."

"Sounds good."

"Go ahead and walk him for a bit first, maybe practice some side-passing or tracking to let his breathing get back to even. I don't want him too tired and unable to concentrate on his lead changes."

Evan side passes away from me. He's showing off now.

I pretend to ignore him, but I'm quite impressed. He's been working hard. It shows.
His horse is amazing at the technical things like side passing, spinning, and even sliding stops. In fact, for being only a three year old, his flying lead changes are beautiful. I wouldn't be surprised if they are the ones teaching me someday. It's a wonderful thing, watching the student surpass the teacher, and I look forward to that day.

What color do you feel like today?

Do I answer this question with my rehearsed pageant answer, or do I answer it from my heart?

The question bounces around my head. I try to grab onto it, to form an answer, but it keeps evading me. Maybe there is no answer to that question.

What color do you feel like today? I let the question reform.

Pageant answer: Sunshine yellow. Because I'm glad the sun is shining. I love how the wind is creating waves on the lake, and mini tornadoes throughout my yard. I've had a wonderful morning so far, with a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and toast...blah blah blah...

Or should I really break this question down?

Well, I don't have a favorite color...if I did, it would be a toss up between pink and blue green. But I wonder if those are really my favorite colors, or just the colors my parents always chose for me to wear as a child, so I grew to like them. I wear a lot of white. Does that mean I have no personality? I also like black...does that mean I'm depressed? Right now I am wearing a comfy pink and purple sweatshirt that my mother in law bought for me last year from the Medora Musical. It is a favorite, and I wear it a couple times a week.

But these are all clothing choices. It doesn't really answer the question. I guess I feel that I would subconsciously wear whatever color I feel like.

I know this is strange, but I remember talking about colors and how they affect energy and attitude in my foot zoning class. I remember the teacher having us pick the color of our folders. It was funny, because I chose blue first, but asked to change to red. He gave me a funny look and mentioned that it was interesting. Of course Ted chose yellow. I could've guessed that. But, I felt like I needed the red. It called to me. When I chose the blue, it just didn't feel right. Is that strange? Have you ever experienced that before?

What color do you feel like today?

Hmmm...I am feeling pretty well so far. I feel at peace. So I think I would choose eggshell. It's a peaceful color. Not quite white, so it doesn't hurt the eyes, but not ivory either, so it doesn't look yellowed or dirty. Yes, eggshell is the color I would choose. A peaceful, calm color.

I'm sure my answer will change as the day goes by, depending on my mood and how I feel, but for now, I think I will stick with eggshell.

Write about something you purchased used

The anxiety is palpable. People are pressed together, but unable to hold still. Their energy charges the air with electricity. I rub my forehead and try not to stare at the growing crowd. If the whole day is like this, I'm going to get a migraine.

The cars are lined up outside the huge metal doors. Over five lanes of cars to be auctioned at the same time. I look through the list again, noting a few that I wouldn't mind taking home. I try to keep the lanes and numbers in order, but it's near impossible.

The first car brought in is a slightly used, black, Chevrolet Camero SS. It's gorgeous, and obviously a hit for the auction, as bidders crowd the first lane. The dealers jockey for a good viewing position. Some are close enough to get their toes ran over. The man behind the wheel does well under pressure, and brings it to a precise stop in front of the auction block.

Smiles are exchanged, hands are raised, and the auction begins.

Voices shout over the noise, and prices increase. It looks like a race. Everyone wants a chance at winning.

The Camero sales for over thirty thousand, a bid that's barely below retail. I wonder if that buyer is feeling the Winner's Curse yet.

The rest of the cars slowly pull up to the auction stop, but none draw the same attention.

Amy, the dealer I came to the auction with, doesn't get caught up in the fury. She scans her list and points out vehicles I wouldn't have noticed. She bids on a few, but never on one that she wouldn't own herself.

An unexpected surprise. An unlisted car pulls into the third auction bay. She jumps up and says she'll be right back.

I glance out the floor to ceiling glass windows, the only thing holding potential buyers from overrunning the auction, and catch sight of a bright blue, convertible, Ford Mustang. My breath catches. It's a dream car. Much flashier than the Camero. But where are all the bidders?

Amy comes back inside, tells me the car is in excellent condition, has low miles, and since other dealers are distracted with their previous purchases, it will probably go for a good price.

I didn't intend on buying a sports car today, but know my husband would love this one. We've actually discussed this exact car multiple times in the last couple months. What a surprise it would be if I brought it home to him.

I tell her to go ahead and bid, as long as it doesn't go too high.

The bidding begins. My heart rate picks up. I wring my hands, trying to rid myself of the nervous tension. Then I realize she's the only bidder. The owner approaches her. They appear to be discussing the car. My tension rises another notch.

Amy comes back with a big smile on her face. "Congratulations! You're the proud new owner of that amazing car. And, better yet, the owner had a minimum bid, and it looks like the price will be the same."

The rest of the day drags by, as we wait for the auction to finish so we can go get our purchase.

I'm a touch apprehensive as the auction finally ends. I've never purchased a car without touching, let alone driving it first. But I try to put on a good face, hiding my nervousness.

Buyers are welcomed into the lot. Hundreds of cars are parked in lines, but the bright blue Mustang stands out. It's like a blue M & M in the middle of chocolate. I can't take my eyes off it. With the new design, the car looks sleek, like it could roar into action at a moments notice.

My husband, scratch that, I really like this car. We're going to be arm wrestling over who gets to drive it.

"How do you like it?" The dealer asks, starting the engine. It growls to life, like a bear being woken from a winter's slumber.

"Better than anticipated."

"It's a V-6, but has a turbo, so it'll get up and go plenty fast."

I glance inside, noting the black leather seats and crome trim. This is a car that belongs in the city, getting admiration and applause.

"I don't know how it'll do on the back roads though..."

The dirt road we live on has bumps and holes. Maneuvering around them will be quite the feat, but I'm willing to take it on.

Amy smiles. "Want to take it for a drive?"

I can't hold back my answering smile as I hop in the drivers seat.

A car pulls up beside us. To my surprise, it's the black Camero. The driver rolls down his window and motions me to do the same.

"Nice ride." He nods toward my car.

"You too."

"It'll do." He shrugs and changes the subject. "Where you taking her?"

What is it with men and calling cars women? "Island Park, Idaho."

He smiles. "Wanna take her out for a spin before you hide her away in the mountains? The interstate's less than a mile away. I'm sure you need to fill up on gas too, and there's a station at the next exit."

His reasoning is sound. I do need to get gas, the gage reads less than a quarter tank.

I glance over at Amy, who sits in the passenger seat. She holds up her hands like she's innocent. "It's not up to me."

My chest bubbles with the same enthusiasm that's been infecting the auction all day. It makes me brave. "Sure, why not?"