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      FUDDLE CUP

      Living an Extraordinary Life Under All Circumstances

      Dolores McKay

      Copyright © 2011, 2012 Dolores McKay

      This book is designed to provide information. It is sold with the understanding that the author and publisher are not engaged to render any type of professional advice. The author and publisher make no representations or warranties of any kind and assume no liabilities to any person or entity with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness of use for a particular purpose. Neither publisher nor author shall be held responsible for any physical, psychological, emotional, medical, financial or commercial loss or damages – incidental, consequential or alleged to have been caused, directly or indirectly, by the information contained herein.

      This book is not meant to be used, nor should it be used, to diagnose or treat any medical condition.

      No warranty may be created or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials.

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.

      The Publisher makes no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any commercial damages.

      2012-11-10

      Dedication

      FOR YOU

      For you, who believe it is as good as it is going to get:

      I write to implore you to reconsider.

      For you, who know you have not even gotten warmed up yet:

      I write to champion your heroism.

      For you, my grandchildren of tomorrow, your parents,

      And he, who houses my heart:

      I write because - you - are why I still breathe.

      Thank you for the reasons to write.

      Acknowledgments

      GRATIA

      Philip Harrell - for believing and loving.

      Brendan, Francesca & Avana - for inspiration.

      Laura Anderson - for watchfulness from heaven.

      Tina Celle, Studio No. 5 - for the bio photo.

      God - for daily breath.

      For You

      Dear Rosalind, Henry, and Paulina,

      Forgive me if I did not get your names quite right or left someone out. You are each important to me all the same.

      It is impossible to guess when you will get around to reading this. I imagine it will happen eventually. After all, everything contained in these pages was composed for you. Considering we may never meet, my writing this for you must seem odd. Yet, it is in that precise oddity — as with most truths — that demonstrates the whole point.

      I am on borrowed time. Actually, we all are, from the minute we were born. Every day you breathe is a gift you cannot deserve but miraculously receive any way. You are never owed any promise of tomorrow or the next day. There are also no guarantees of what else will be given to you today, except your breath. Some days, not even that comes easy.

      If medical odds were impeccable, I should have stopped breathing already. I should be incapacitated. I should be mentally hampered by painkillers. I should have little to no chance of meeting you. Alternatively, I could at any time, be hit by the same proverbial bus those predicted to live to one hundred might also encounter. Everyone is on borrowed time; it is just more obvious with some of us.

      When acutely aware you live on borrowed time, you prioritize doing the most crucial things first. If you prioritize well, the most crucial things have little to do with you and have everything to do with others. Personally, I fathom no other way to pay back borrowed time than to use whatever time I have, for those to whom it would mean the most.

      You are by far, my greatest hope for the future. I hope to meet each of you, face to face. I hope to see you grow and watch as you impact the world in your distinctive ways. I imagine you — lingering around my kitchen table, filling up on my adoration and homemade hot cocoa — rich with marshmallows, anecdotes, and shrewd advice. Picturing you is all I need to keep my priorities straight — regardless of time.

      Like everyone else, I have no idea how much time I can borrow. If it is less than I would like, what I will have to leave you? A substantial inheritance? I hope so. It would be highly unlikely your inheritance would be mainly money, though. Life has had its seasons of monetary success, but life is not about that. As your Great Great Grandmother Velda used to say, “I am rich in everything but money.” While I strive today to acquire the myriad of life wealth Velda had, my collection of unusual experiences thus far, have paid generous dividends to what I now understand.

      I may never meet you. You will be born someday, and I may never get to fill cups of hot cocoa for you as I dream. I will, however, endeavor every day I have breath to leave you the most valuable assets I have: what I know. If I fail to gather you around my kitchen table, I will not neglect to fill the only cup I can for you — this book — your Fuddle Cup.

      This book is a poor substitute for a grandmother, but it is the greatest inheritance I have to offer. It is what I have discovered, so far, about life. I hope that sharing it will someday better all of yours. I love you all.

      Your grandmother… someday,

      Dolores McKay

       P.S. If you ever wonder how vital it was that you were born, how much someone can love the mere thought of you, or if you ever question what you are worth — read this again.

      What This Book Is NOT

       “Rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men.” ~Douglas Bader

      

      

      This is not a rule book. The very notion that of all people, I should write any sort of doctrine filled with rules is ridiculous. Trust me on this one.

      When I was ten, my sister handed me a jumbled up Rubik’s Cube and challenged me to solve it. If you end up having siblings, you will appreciate that being my big sister, she felt compelled to add her absolute doubt regarding my ability to accomplish the task.

      I twisted the cube this way and that for a few minutes with remarkably little to no progress. Frustrated, I reexamined the ultimate goal: to reconfigure the cube, so all pieces match in color on all six sides of the cube. [Just in case they stop making Rubik’s Cubes for your generation]. It seemed clear, the quickest way to solve the problem definitively, was to take the cube apart and reassemble it. So, with the assistance of my father’s trusty screwdriver that I was forbidden to play with, that is precisely what I did.

      Within the hour, I returned the cube to my sister in pristine, matching condition. In response to her stunned disbelief, I proudly explained my creative solution. Apparently, my opinion of a creative solution was her definition of cheating.

      I have never been exceptionally good with rules.

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