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So, Friday sucked because I realized I'd made 3 fairly big fuck ups last week. Today, I am charging into each of them headlong to get them fixed.

The first one is handled. And the attorney on the other side was very nice about it and I feel a bit foolish for being so worked up. But, damn, I hate swallowing my pride.

Now, I should probably pause long enough to eat lunch (breakfast?) with my pride, and then tackle problems 2 and 3. But I still feel vaguely sick about the massive screw ups.

Which leads me to the point where I recall the words of wise friends over the past few days: Give yourself a break.

I... may be incapable of not castigating myself within an inch of my life when I screw things up. This is something that I am realizing with a growing unease. I let other people make mistakes and have chances, but I really never do manage to forgive myself.

*fails*

Anyway, on to fix more mistakes now.
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Ugh. I *hate* this topic, not because I hate best friends, but because I am blessed with a lot of people that I love and this seems to somehow drop some of them into a less worthy status.

So, I reject it.

Instead, I will talk about the sort of friend that I strive to be, or, in other words, the best friend that I can be.

As someone with a distinct lack of romantic love in her life, I have still never felt unloved for even a minute. My friends fill that void for me to an astonishing degree. I have had people ask why I do things for the people I love, or indicate that some requests are ones that I should turn down, but I can't help myself.

If you're a friend of mine, and you need something that I can do, I will do it. The end. That simple. I remember my dad telling me when I was little that Christians don't loan money, they give it and never expect it to be returned. They only give what they can afford to give, and they never have any resentment over it if it isn't repaid.

While I scoff aloud at the idea that this is how all Christians behave, it struck me as exactly how a true friendship should work.



The Meme:
Day 01 - Introduction
Day 02 – Your first love, in great detail
Day 03 – Your parents, in great detail
Day 04 – What you ate today, in great detail
Day 05 – Your definition of love, in great detail
Day 06 – Your day, in great detail
Day 07 – Your best friend, in great detail
If you'd like to play along )
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This is a very interesting question, actually. I will forever associate my answers with this Bible verse:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves."
-- 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

While I don't think that people are that infallible, I do think love is that infallible. To me, love is showing up to help a friend move, and when she can't do much because of her asthma, it's taking charge of packing boxes and running the vacuum cleaner. Love is letting someone move in with you because otherwise they won't have a place to live. Love is driving to get someone because they got drunk and you'd rather be inconvenienced than have them be at risk. Love is doing the dishes, again.

Love is worrying about someone, even when - especially when - they aren't worried enough about themselves. Love is rejoicing in someone else's victories and crying with them during the hard times. Love is late night phone calls because someone else needs to talk.

Love is biting your tongue when you're right, and saying you're sorry when you're wrong. Love is hugging people when you see them and when you say good-bye. Love is saying you love someone, even when it's mushy and feels strange because you'd rather they know it for sure.

Love is letting someone leave you, but hoping they'll come back. Love is letting someone else make the wrong decisions, because if they don't, they won't ever be happy. Love is telling someone they're making the wrong decisions when you're afraid that the decisions will hurt them too much.

Love is lunch dates to gossip about television, and early morning phone calls during commutes to help pass the time away. Love is laughter and joy. Love is also crying and pain.

Love is everything that makes anything worthwhile.

I hope that was specific enough. :)

The Meme:
Day 01 - Introduction
Day 02 – Your first love, in great detail
Day 03 – Your parents, in great detail
Day 04 – What you ate today, in great detail
Day 05 – Your definition of love, in great detail
If you'd like to play along )
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This day is one of several that freaks me out to talk about. I'm pretty sure I'm going to come out sounding either like a total lunatic or pathetic and I don't particularly feel fond of either. But, in the interest of honesty, here goes.

They Called It Puppy Love )
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I ran 4 miles this week. Why yes, I *am* a bad ass. I'm going to run that far again tonight. Because? I *am* a bad ass. :D

*************

So, Viggo.

Ummm, his new movie has him cast as Sigmund Freud.

It probably says something about my psyche how I reacted to that. Just saying...

*************

I'm hungry, but lately everything I eat feels like it gets stuck in the base of my throat, where it lies in wait to choke me to death. This is most displeasing.

*************

I interviewed Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor about their new book today. Sue Kidd wrote The Secret Life of Bees. We got into a fascinating discussion of what myths mean to modern audiences, how the Persephone and Demeter myth can be taken in so many ways, what the purpose of travel for spiritual enlightenment is, why women in particular seem to be gravitating towards this idea now, rather than generations ago, and the complexities in a mother/daughter relationship, as well as what it means to figure out what you want from your life, and what it means about going to get it.

It was really interesting. I'm going to write an article about it, but I may end up writing a blog about some of the things it made me think about my own life.

This is one of those days where I really, really love my side job. I love people and fascinating people are, well, fascinating. Not because they're better, but because they somehow do something that I want to do, or seem to have figured out something that I'm struggling with.

This also leads me to some thoughts about cultural appropriation, but I'm not sure that most people I know would agree with me. In the end, I'm not sure taking something you've learned and making it your own in some way is a bad thing. Dismissing the original is a bad thing, yes, but no man is an island and if we don't learn from each other, we'll kill each other eventually.

Okay, stopping this point before I blog too much.
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To share something "churchy." But I actually really like the message of this and if you don't want to think about "God" think about something else (peace? fulfillment? purpose?), but I think the message still applies. (And if you're wondering, I am working. This was in S's email, which I am currently going through.)
************

Spiritual Growth by Subtraction

by GORDON ATKINSON on AUGUST 19, 2010



My wife and I agreed that last Sunday had a Quaker feel to it, so we went to the San Antonio Quaker meeting for an hour of extravagant silence. I spent the first twenty minutes as I usually do – settling in and getting used to the quiet. But soon the question of the day became apparent.

“How will I serve God now that I am no longer a pastor?”

I’m working under the assumption that every Christian needs a ministry. I let go of one ministry, so I’ll need to find another. Right now I’m mowing the grass at Covenant Baptist Church. But I don’t know if that’s my official calling for this season of life or just an interim gig.

So I was sitting there with the Quakers, kind of contemplating my life, kind of wondering what the future will bring. Time was ticking by slowly.

I counted the boards on the wall.

I listened to the creaking pews as Friends shifted their weight.

A man cleared his throat.

An elderly woman fiddled with a toy horse. I wondered why she brought it and what story was behind it.

And then two phrases came to my mind. I almost think I heard them, but I don ‘t know. It was something between thinking and hearing.

Meister Eckhart… and… Empty yourself.

My wife has a book of meditations by Meister Eckhart that she has kept on her nightstand for years. The back of this book says that Meister Eckhart, who died somewhere around 1329 A.D., was a mystic, prophet, feminist, philosopher, preacher, poet, genius, convicted heretic, and administrator.

Administrator? Really? That seems a little out-of-place in that edgy list, but perhaps feminist heretics of the 14th century needed flowcharts. What do I know? Anyway, whatever else he did with his life, the Eck Meister wrote some amazing things. My favorite is this:

“What good is it if Mary was full of grace unless I am full of grace? And what good is it if Christ was born 2000 years ago, if he is not born in me, in my time, and in my culture?”

Yeah, that’s pretty stout stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been thinking about that one meditation for about a decade, and I still haven’t reached the bottom of it. But on this Sunday morning I remembered another thing that Meister Eckhart once wrote.

“God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a process of subtraction.”

You and I could debate that statement, I guess, and perhaps there are plenty of exceptions. But I think as a general rule, it’s got the ring of truth. Especially for American Christians, who are probably too busy for their own good and for whom spirituality is often just another list of things to do.

Suddenly I saw my life in a different way. I’ve been thinking of myself as MISSING things. MISSING a calling and NEEDING TO FIND another one. But is my life empty enough to hear from God? Is my life empty enough to have room for my next calling? I wondered what else God might want me to let go of.

“Empty yourself.” That phrase kept ringing in my mind. I breathed deeply, in and out. Then I got my notebook and wrote this in it:

“Empty yourself of everything, every encumbrance, and I will show you what to do next.”

Gordon Atkinson

Winning

Aug. 7th, 2010 10:01 pm
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I bit the bullet and signed up for Weight Watchers again. I feel like P is right - this is the time to get our lives back under control. I don't want to be the woman in the cartoon anymore. I want everything to make sense and be easy and feel like I'm doing good things with my life. I feel like I can manage this and Weight Watchers worked for me.

Talking frankly about weight )

I went running today again. It was awesome. Exercise )

During the Hall of Fame Luncheon, the speakers all talked about Winners. I'm tired of not being a Winner by their definition. "Winners make commitments; Losers make excuses."

"A winner doesn't blame others for his failures, or credit luck for his successes."

Thinky )
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It's already Monday. Boo.

I shall go to sleep momentarily, but I'm still kind of geared up, so I thought I'd write a post.

Like everyone else on the internets, I think this post is my life. Especially the look of pure manic glee on the little woman's face. But no, seriously, this is me. I could have written this. Every single word.

Word.

Secondly, I did my W2D3 run of C25K today. It was awesome! After I finished the last interval, I just kept running and proved to myself that I can, indeed, run 3 minutes. So watch out W3D1 run! I'm coming for you.

Thoughts on Running )

I went to a friend's house tonight for dinner (after I ran). I took with me a pack of hot dogs, hot dog buns, 4 ears of corn, and half a watermelon. (All stuff I'd planned to eat this past week and didn't.) Upon arrival, I sat down and did nothing while other people grilled for me. I feel that this is an excellent way to have a BBQ.

We ate dinner outside, where by 9, it had cooled down to 90*. It felt fantastic (especially after running in 95* heat.) Fireflies danced in the yard to the song made by cicadas and crickets. Honeysuckle bloomed on the back fence and for a single moment in time everything was utterly perfect. My soul felt at peace and I could hear it sigh in contentment.

I don't know what will happen in the next few months, but I do know that as long as the world has moments like that one, I still believe in my heart that everything is going to be okay.
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When I was little, my grandfather would come to our house and garden. My father... well, let's just say that he had issues. But my Dad's dad, to me, could do no wrong. I have since learned all the ways that he is indeed my father's father. The men in my family are assholes, and they learn it from their fathers.

But when I was a child, I was pretty certain that my grandfather hung the moon. And, I know he loved me. I know he still loves me, even though he doesn't understand me. And I still love him, even though I don't understand him.

But I understood those days. I understood the smell of hot sun on hot dirt. I understood the feel of gardening tools in my hands. I understood calluses and the almost surreal pleasure of picking vegetables that my sweat had helped grow. But mostly, I grew to understand the fleeting nature of time.

My grandfather was the strongest man in the world, second only to my father, of course. He could use the tiller - a machine that I was not allowed to touch - to break through the hard clay ground. He could run the hose - that he'd poked holes into - along the ground to water the vegetables. He knew hot to grow everything, including a little girl's interest in nature and in history.

I learned how to tell if tomatoes needed bigger stakes, and how to tell if aphids were eating our plants before we could; I also learned what it was like to grow food because you had to have it to survive and what it felt like to be in a war.

My grandfather, for those hours in the garden, would lower his guard and let glimpses of his real self slip through. I learned that he had an older brother - who died in the Great Depression - and I learned what it was like to go to a one room school. I learned about my great-grandmother, who ran a boarding house to feed her two surviving children and I learned about my great-great-grandfather who fought in General Lee's army at the age of 15.

I learned what dirt smelled like after the rain and that watermelon vines run riot. I learned how to tell when tomatoes were ripe and when to pick peaches. I learned how to eat pomegranates.

Mostly, I learned to enjoy what I was given and accept that I couldn't make people different than what they were. I learned that my grandfather loved me and that sometimes that's enough.
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According to the AFL-CIO (at least in 2007), women make on average $0.77 to the $1 that a man makes for doing the same work. While the disparity in pay is a fairly commonly known fact, there is a lot of shoulder shrugging that occurs when anyone wonders why.

I won't pretend that it's a simple answer. Instead, I'll just quote a few rather astonishing facts (based on data from 2007):

* Nationally, women make 77 cents for every $1 men earn.
* In terms of annual pay, it took women from January 1, 2007 until April 2008 to make as much money as their male colleagues had made by December 31, 2007.
* In terms of weekly pay, women have to work until the following Tuesday to catch up to the earnings of men in equivalent positions.

While there is no doubt that the undrlying problem here is rooted in sexism, the recent posts floating around about Imposter Syndrome and women's (in particular) hesitation to accept praise for their accomplishments or point out their own successes reminds me of a book that I read in college.

I attended a prestigious women's college and in my senior year, I haunted the career services department as people are wont to do. I remember reading a book called "Women Don't Ask: The High Cost of Avoiding Negotiation--and Positive Strategies for Change." While I didn't agree with everything in the book, it hit upon some ideas that have stuck with me ever since. These are the same ideas that now intersect with posts like [personal profile] synecdochic the ghost in the room, or, why modesty is a dirty fucking word.

A quick summary of the book (and of my point) holds that men make more money because they negotiate differently than women. The biggest difference? Men are more willing to point out how awesome they are.

[personal profile] naraht's post Awesome is as Awesome... Says?* pretty much hits the nail on the head. As a gender, women are taught from the beginning that we should not point out our own successes. Instead, we should trust our actions to do that for us. We shouldn't be "vain" or "proud" or "narcissistic" and, whatever we do, we shouldn't act like we're better than we actually are.

* [personal profile] naraht's post questions the need of anyone (male or female)to point out how awesome they are. Zie states that it sounds like "bragging" or "arrogance."

The problem with this approach is that people, women especially, end up downplaying their actual awesomeness. This has a name, folks, and it's called "false modesty." This is an unbelievably costly phenomenon. To give just one example, according to the authors of the book “Women Don’t Ask – Negotiation and the Gender Divide” (Linda Babcock and Sara Laschever), by not negotiating a first salary, an individual stands to lose more than $500,000 by age 60—and men are more than four times as likely as women to negotiate the important first salary. Clearly, women are doing ourselves no favors by pretending to be less amazing than we are, or by being too shy to point out just how awesome we are.

I would never presume to explain how this plays out in other women's lives and careers, but I can offer a few illustrations from mine:

I'm a civil litigation attorney. This is an undeniably high stress field that is overwhelmingly populated by men. It has the added factors of being designed to be adversarial and confrontational. Every day, I am questioned on my intelligence, my abilities, my drive, my passion and my skills. Every day, I have to show how awesome I am.

Oh, and I am awesome. I am damned good at my job.

This has not stopped me from being told in an interview that the interviewer would prefer to hire a man. It has not stopped the same interviewer from asking me if I would cry at work. It has not stopped the same interviewer from offering me a low-ball salary when he finally decided that he could "live with hiring a woman."

That interview, though undeniably one of the most bizarre experiences of my life, doesn't even come close to showcasing all of the sexism that I find in the workplace everyday - from judges who won't allow women attorneys to wear pants suits to opposing counsel who feel that it is somehow appropriate to call me "young lady" like I am being scolded for being silly, to being told that I am being overlooked for a promotion because I might want to "someday have a baby and I can't balance everything."

I do the same work as a male attorney in my position. I do it well. Hell, in a lot of cases, I do it better. And if I'm too shy to point this out on my own bi-yearly evaluations, then you had better believe I won't be getting offered the same sort of raises.

I negotiate on behalf of my clients over millions of dollars. Why on earth should I not do the same for myself over thousands, or even hundreds, of dollars?

If I don't think I'm worth it, no one else will either.

So, this is my post wherein I say: I *am* awesome. I *deserve* to be recognized as such. While I was offered opportunities because of my privilege, I *make* my own reputation and I will not pretend to be less awesome than I actually am just because it makes someone uncomfortable. I will not pretend to be less awesome than I actually am just because I'm afraid I'll sound narcissistic. I will not pretend to be less awesome than I actually am, because I am not less awesome than I actually am.

And if someone questions me about it, I will tell them that I am awesome, because it's the truth.

Now, let me close by echoing [personal profile] synecdochic's battle cry:

Modesty is a dirty word. Fuck imposter syndrome. Own your awesome.
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So, from what I can figure, today's 3w4dw non-fannish topic is dedication to inclusiveness. This... scares me a bit. When I discovered that yesterday's theme was "cooking," I decided that it would be fun to make a public post trying to keep up with the non-fannish themes each day.

It was going to be a fun writing exercise, and one dedicated to making me a better writer. I thought, "Self, turning something around in a few hours is a good exercise. Plus, it'll be fun."

But wading in on issues of inclusivness - or rather, on sensitive issues involving race, sexual orientation, gender and/or religion - is a bit daunting. I confess, I nearly backed out. I've read so many wonderful essays dedicated to these issues by men and women who are smarter and more knowledgable than me that I'm not sure what, if anything, I can offer to the conversation. Plus, honestly, the risk of public humiliation is high.

For the sake of disclaimer, allow me to say that I am a straight, white woman who grew up in the southern United States, and who definitely falls in the upper middle class in terms of education and current lifestyle (though not in terms of how I grew up).

I attended a prestigious private women's liberal arts college and then obtained my JD. I've practiced law for five years. I write for several newspapers and magazines about a variety of topics mostly ranging from health to entertainment. Until the past year, I was extremely healthy and suffered from no disabilities. (Now, I have chronic adult onset asthma, but that is not really relevant.)

I tell you these things so that anyone who might wish to turn away can do so, but also because I think it's important to understand where I've come from in order to understand where I am and where I'm going to. And I write this post because I've realized that no one in the whole world needs to know or care where I've been, where I stand, or where I'm going but me.

This is me, looking in the mirror, and admitting that I don't like everything I see.

For a while, I wracked my brain about how to best approach this topic, but then I remembered reading quite extensively about the idea of "BINGO cards" a few months back. I looked them up at the time and was appalled by some of the excuses on there, even as I became uncomfortable by some of the others. I was uncomfortable because at some point in my life, I'd heard them offered as an excuse and accepted them as valid. I was uncomfortable because at some point in my life, I'd made those excuses and felt justified.

Realizing that I'd made racist/ablest/(and even sexist) comments was upsetting in a way that I cannot describe and, for a while, I turned away from it. Then I read a post by a friend, who is a person of color, who said something along the lines of, "If you choose to turn and walk away, at least admit to yourself that it is your privilege that allows you that choice - and think about all of us that will never be given that choice."

That stung.

A lot.

Because it was true.

Still, I kept my silence for a long time - making even more excuses like "who wants to hear what I have to say anyway?" and "everyone else says it so much better." Then the topic comes up right after I challenged myself to answer every non-fannish topic with a post. I pep talked myself into positng and told myself to not be a coward. I may be many things, but I'm not a coward. And, as long as I can remember, I have demanded that I meet the same standards that I would expect of anyone else. So, here goes.

Learning to See, and Accept Responsibility for, my Own Privilege )

I always say that when you make a mistake, the best thing to do is to say you're sorry and promise to do better.

I've made a lot of mistakes.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry.

For what it's worth, I'll do better.




free search engine submission
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Yesterday morning I received a phone call about my great aunt. She'd fallen over the weekend and landed on a radiator. Without any idea what caused the fall and because she suffered several severe burns, she was transferred to the Burn Center in Augusta, Georgia.

Read more... )
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I don’t do mornings. No, seriously.

I really don’t do mornings. Read more... )

This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Topic 06: Sunrise. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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Sometimes, I would like to be that person that finds a plastic bag floating in the air in front of a brick wall so beautiful that it takes my breath away. I can't help but think that the person who finds beauty in that scenario must be enlightened.

I will never be that person. )

This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Topic 04: Moments of Devastating Beauty. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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Nostalgia is a strange and beautiful emotion, but it's also dangerous. It encourages us to look back at the past and see the best parts, shining like a beacon that scolds us from moving away from our values. It hides the dirt and grime, the blood and the guilt, of eras past under the black and white veneer of a photograph or memory.

In 1945, my grandfather lived in the same city I live in now. )

This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Topic 02: Uphill, barefoot, both ways. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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Recently, I had dinner with a friend. We were in a restaurant and the room was filled with the happy buzz of people conversing and the wonderful smells of food. I reached out to grab the Splenda for a cup of coffee when it happened.

I spilled the salt shaker over and salt tumbled out on the table. )

This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Topic 01: Empty Gestures. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

DBAD

Aug. 11th, 2009 03:31 pm
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I could get behind this idea.

In the end, I think it matters more that you do what you can and try to be a good person. Those are just my beliefs, though.
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So Long. )


This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Challenge 23 – The Best Thing. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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I die on a Thursday in roughly 30 years. The exact date isn't important. The exact moment is. There is a rattled breath, a feeling of being hugged too tightly, and then the sound of breaking glass. I see my life for the first time in the second after I die.

It was nothing like I thought.

Through the Glass )

The title of this piece is a lyric from Annie Lenox's Into the West.

This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Challenge 18: It's Not What You Think . There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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Warning: This is not dial up friendly. Also, for readers who are visually impaired, I apologize and hope that my captioned explanations will suffice to help explain what I was attempting to do here.

As a young child, I liked to draw pictures. My mom would put them on the refrigerator, as mothers do. It's really too bad that I was always a terrible artist.

Evidence to the same behind the cut. Brace yourselves! )


This entry was written in response to the [livejournal.com profile] therealljidol Challenge 16: Coloring Outside the Lines. There will (probably) be voting for this week's entries. I will make sure to link to the poll once it is put up and I would appreciate it if you would vote for me if you enjoy my entry. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

I am aware that I have completely cracked. But, whatever the result, I had fun with this entry. And that counts for a lot in my world at the moment.

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