Script:
Howling winds sent branches scraping against the windows and shutters of the old jug-and-muffin tea room. Rain splashed, and sudden lightning made wild shadows on the flapping shingles. It was a terrible morning. What a beautiful morning, said Old Witch, who watched the storm from her quilt-covered bed. With a leap, she was out of her quilts and into her high-buttoned shoes. A quick look in the mirror told her that her hair was a fright, so she grabbed her pointed old hat and jammed it down on her head. She made a face in the mirror and slid down the banister to the kitchen. With a great deal of noise, she crashed into the kitchen door. Bats, she said. In the kitchen, very busy with stirring and pouring, were Nicky and his mother, who owned the tea room. Old Witch had lived in the attic ever since that day they had awakened her from a long sleep in the chimney. When she felt like it, Old Witch helped with the cooking. What's cooking, said Old Witch, glaring at all the activity. Nicky's mother carefully explained about the contest. Old Witch needed a new bandstand, and the townspeople agreed that a carnival with a cake-baking contest would be a fine way to raise money. A new bandstand, Old Witch screeched. What's wrong with the old one? It's got everything, spiders, mice, cobwebs, and bats. Nicky thought the best way to answer Old Witch was to invite her to the carnival. You'll have a wonderful time, he said. And if you like, you may enter the contest. But Mrs. Butterbean always wins the first prize at every bake contest. Old Witch's answer was a snort, as she perched herself high on a shelf to tease the cooks. She cackled, as she told Nicky that she was going to sprinkle sand on his sugar cookies. Nicky's mother finally lost her patience, as Old Witch knocked a can of pepper into her lemon icing. Between sneezes, she ordered the old troublemaker out of the kitchen. Achoo, a wart pox on both of you, on carnivals, on bandstands, on lemon cakes. She stopped long enough to make a face, which was rather frightening on top of her own face. Then, grabbing her broom, she sailed out of the house to the top of the black walnut tree to sulk and mutter little rhymes like this. Toil and trouble for Old Witch, I hope they all get wild oakage. She banged a black walnut with her fist. Her eyes suddenly lit up, a big green moon, a toad's blue eyes. I'll make nut cake and win first prize.
Script:
Chapter 2, Come to Neverland. Peter Pan opened the casement window and stepped inside the nursery. There was something strange about him. But what was it? Yes, of course, his shadow was missing. It should have been right there behind him, but it was gone. Peter looked about the room. Over in the corner, he saw Nana's doghouse. Over there, Tink, he said to the glowing little pixie who followed him into the room, Tinkerbell paused in the air beside him for a moment. Then flew over to the doghouse. Anyone could see from the look she gave Peter that she adored him and was more than willing to do whatever he bade her. Look in its den, Peter said. He waited anxiously while Tinkerbell flew inside the doorway. His red feather barbed as he bent down and watched her little light searching every corner. Is it there? He asked when she appeared again at the door. Because Tinkerbell was a pixie, she not only glowed, but her voice was like the jingling of tiny silver bells. It's not here, she jingled. Peter Pan was disappointed. He had hoped to find his shadow quickly and hurry back to Neverland. Must be somewhere, he said, looking around the room. Maybe it's in the toy chest. That would be a likely spot. Peter flew down to the chest. He opened the lid and threw toys right and left. He was almost at the bottom when he heard a tinkly little tune. Tinkerbell had discovered a music box on top of the dresser. In looking for Peter's shadow, she had lifted the lid and was delighted with the little tune it played. Fluttering in midair, Tink held up the lid and smiled happily at the tinkly sounds, and nodded her head in time to the music. Tink, be quiet, Peter said. You'll wake the children. Tink dropped the lid reluctantly as he added. Stop playing and help me find my shadow. The little pixie floated slowly through the air, refusing to be hurried by Peter or anyone else. Then, something moving caught her eye, and she drifted down to the dresser top for a closer view. It was her own reflection in the mirror. Here was something new and delightful. Tinkerbell had never before seen anything just like it. She fussed with her hair, preened her wings, and admired herself. This was fun. Suddenly, she heard a faint sound in the upper dresser drawer. Swiftly, she flew to listen and peek into the keyhole. Yes, there it was, Peter Pan's shadow struggling to get out. Over here, Tinkerbell jingled to Peter. It's in there. She pointed to the dresser drawer. Peter flew over to get his shadow. Then everything happened at once. Peter opened the drawer, Tink slipped in, and the shadow darted out like a black streak. In trying to capture the shadow, Peter slammed the drawer shut. But instead of trapping the shadow, he imprisoned Tinkerbell. Head over heels, she went, landing in a jumble of spools, buttons, beads, and pincushions in the back of the drawer. Peter, meanwhile, was having troubles of his own. His shadow was behaving like no self-respecting shadow ever had before, racing across the ceiling, shooting up one wall and down the other. Of course, it could hardly be blamed. It isn't every day a shadow can do what he wants to do. But just the same, Peter wanted it back. Up and down the nursery they raced, until finally the unlucky shadow tripped over a footstool. Peter saw his chance and captured the runaway with a flying tackle. Together, they slid under the foot of Wendy's bed, across the floor, and came to a stop with a bang against the soap stand, knocking it over. Peter Pan! It was Wendy, wide awake at the crash of the soap stand and completely delighted when she saw who her visitor was. Peter! She exclaimed, jumping out of bed. I knew you'd come back! If either Wendy or Peter had been looking at the dresser just then, they would have seen a tiny, angry glow through the keyhole. Poor Tink, trapped in the drawer, had heard Wendy's voice and peeked out. She was furious to see Wendy, a pretty girl, talking to her Peter Pan. I saved your shadow for you. I do hope it isn't rumpled, Wendy said. She peered closely at Peter from his pointed toes to his feathered cap. You know, you look exactly the way I thought you would, except perhaps you're a little taller. Peter Pan was busy with a bar of soap, trying to stick his shadow to his feet. Wendy watched for a minute and then, giggling, took the soap away from him. You can't stick it on with soap, Peter. It needs sewing. That's the proper way to do it, she said, as she turned the light brighter. Although, come to think of it, I never thought of it before, Wendy prattled on, sewing shadows, I mean. Of course, I knew it was your shadow the minute I saw it. And I said to myself, I said, I'll put it away for him until he comes back.
Script:
Several years ago, I read something about the scientifically proven best way to do laundry. You're supposed to fill with water first, then soap, then clothes. I'd been doing it backwards for almost 50 years. I decided to start doing it right. It's now six years later and I have never done it correctly. Not even once. I always forget until I've already loaded the clothes and am pouring in the detergent. Oh yeah, I think to myself, I was going to do it the other way. My little laundry story reveals a couple things. First, how hard it is to change a habit, even a small one. If I were really to change how I do laundry, I'd need to post reminders on the washer. When I caught myself doing it the old way, I'd stop, take the clothes out, and put the water in first. I'd ask my husband to remind me as he saw me walking toward the laundry room. Eventually, if I did it enough times, it would become my new routine. But frankly, I don't care enough to put in the effort. That's the crucial point here. How important motivation is. Because it takes work, often a lot of work and sacrifice, you have to really want to bring something into being. Deeply, truly, honestly. Otherwise, it's too easy to slide back into the same old, same old. That's what's the problem with so many New Year's or birthday resolutions. There's nothing wrong with resolutions per se. In fact, resolving to do something can spur you into action. But in the glow of a fresh start, we make all kinds of promises to ourselves. I'm going to be kinder, spend more time with my friends, do yoga every day, take up the violin, that we don't really care enough about to actually do. Then we beat ourselves up for lacking discipline when we fail to do them. Whenever I work with people who say they want to do something, find a man, change jobs, become more grateful, volunteer in their community, and they don't do it, I tell them it failed to pass the I really, really want it test. Because if you really want it, you'll keep at it, despite setbacks, interruptions and sidetracks. No matter how long you get off course, you'll eventually return if you really want what you say you do. Oprah Winfrey comes to mind. Obviously, she really wants to drop her excess pounds. Because no matter how many times she's gotten off course and the weights come back, she's gotten back on track and achieved her goal. She's also the poster child for how difficult it can be. Despite all the help money can buy, she has struggled to make lasting change. That's why it's so important to only pick something that you really care about. Really wanting it creates and sustains momentum. And you're going to need that. On the Prevention.com website, Joan Borisenko, Ph.D., encourages us to go beneath the surface to find what she calls our soul resolutions, which are based on saying yes to your deepest longings. Goals rooted in what really matters are far easier to keep than facile resolutions that roll off the surface right down the drain. She gives the example of making a resolution to lose 10 pounds by June 1st, something she failed at over and over. However, when she tapped into herself at the soul level, what came out was, I will care for my body so that I can continue to feel the pleasure of being fit and fully alive as I grow older. That was something she could really care about and work toward. What do you care enough about to apply the necessary elbow grease? Sure, it would be great to have more patience with your kids, stop eating junk food, find a new job, or get out of debt. But what do you want badly enough to keep front and center in your life? To make sacrifices of time and energy for.
