I am on occasion compelled to express how wonderful my life is. I rarely do for a variety of reasons. Firstly, it is difficult to find words that adequately convey to the reader the many ways in which I am so very fortunate; the powerful experiences I am able to experience, the abundance of fascinating, dynamic, quality people in my life, the depth of my relationship with a truly remarkable human being, and the frequency with which I am able to enjoy the kinds of things that most people only dream about, or perhaps have never imagined possible.

Then, if I was somehow able to find the words to relate to my readers the true extent of the many remarkable elements in my life - well, you just wouldn't believe me. "That poor naive girl," you would say. "She's a three year old who just got a plastic ring from the quarter machine, and thinks she's got the queens diamonds. It isn't possible for real life to be the fairy tale she describes."

So instead I stare at my empty entry for awhile, then shake my head and close the window with a secret knowing smile. Because you see, my life is that fairy tale, but you will never know.