Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: juggling porcupines (Page 1 of 2)

Resiliancy.

I had been chatting with a a sales rep friend a while back, muttering about our equally long careers in this business. We’ve been through the ups & downs – employed, unemployed, good employers, less-than-good… In that conversation, I said, “Glen? You know what we are? We’re resilient. No matter how many times we get knocked down, challenged by what life throws our way, we just get back up and keep on walkin’.” And that’s really what it’s all about in the end, isn’t it? How we choose to act in the face of adversity, and the graciousness with which we accept the bounty that is earned and given to us.

I started my new job last week. You always have your first set of challenges – how do I dial the phone? Will I remember anyone’s name tomorrow? And then the real work begins, and yes, I’m in the early glow of New Job! New Challenges!, life is good, I love the work I’ve been given to do, and am going to be working with a great group of people – at my job, my clients, and my vendor partners. On that first day, I also got a curve ball: my uncle -I haven’t seen or spoken with in ten years- called to ask if my mother was with me, because she was missing. Had been missing since the previous Wednesday.

Long story short, her drinking had escalated. Now, mind you, the parents I grew up with? Rarely over-indulged in alcohol. Everything in moderation. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my mom even tipsy. I knew that her drinking had increased as their marriage declined, and there had been a rather dire incident after the divorce, where her consumption of 750ml of vodka left her hospitalized with a 0.48 Blood Alcohol level, and at that time – 10 years ago – I got her enrolled in Hazelden, working with her hospital social worker, but in the end, she wriggled out of it. I threw my hands in the air. We’re stubborn, both of us, but I’m smart enough to know when the effort is wasted. If there’s one thing I learned from my own childhood, it’s that you cannot change another person, no matter how hard you try.

This – this was something new. My uncle was worried, and I quickly became worried as well. She was reported as a missing person. Endangered to herself. Somewhere out there with her car, and a cell phone that had been turned off. No bank account activity. No word from a single friend back home.

The days went by. Conversations with a Chief Deputy, confirming the national APB that was now out. Paperwork was filed to begin accessing her credit cards, hoping for some sort of indication – anything – that would tell us she was at least alive. I’ve never been through something like that before. I hope I never have to go through it again. Staring at pages online of other faces, people who vanished and gone for years, wondering if this was the future for me. Fearing a terrible accident, so devastating her car had left the road and was hidden in a thicket somewhere, somehow invisible, was she hurt, was she dead. Was she dead. Would we ever know.

Thankfully, last Sunday, a sharp-eyed cop in a nearby city spotted the make and model of my mother’s car, in the parking lot of a motel. Ran the plates, got a hit. Found.

Eleven days, ten nights. Sounds like my dream of a vacation, preferably in Tahiti. She spent it in a blackout, ordering food and pouring alcohol into her body. I feel strangely detached, just writing and sharing that. It’s in sharp contrast to the high anxiety from last week, that’s for sure. I don’t know who that person is, the one with a car full of beer cans and wine bottles, driving drunk and risking her life as well as others’. It’s not really detachment, I suppose. It’s the fortress I built long ago, appearing out of the mist. Reminding me that I put up these walls to protect myself from a different dynamic. And even from that distance, I do love her. I wish things could be different, of course, but right now, her journey needs to focus on herself. She was hospitalized, agreed to enter rehab, and yesterday, she entered a facility where I hope she can start her life anew in different direction. I feel old. Older than her. Older than everyone involved in this. Perhaps because I see my utter powerlessness. There are only so many times you can try to do the work for someone else before you see you’re carrying water in a sieve. I quit clocking in next to Sisyphus a long time ago.

That said. If anyone can do it, it’s her. After all, she was the one with the indomitable spirit my whole childhood, digging in her heels, getting back on the horse that threw her, no job nor mountain too big to be tackled. I hope she can find that resiliency and optimism she so carefully cultivated in me.

Me? It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

But I’m good. It’s good.

Many thanks to be given.

Much terrain to survey.

Miles to go before I sleep.

Faith

As I’ve noted, December isn’t the easiest of months to sail through. Between the busy-ness of work, the pressure of holidays, the sorrows and reminders of family and loss, on its own, the month is taxing. (Oh yeah – gotta pay property taxes and estimated taxes by the end of the month, too. Fun!)  Throw in a couple other unexpected experiences, and I’ve felt of late that my faith has been shaken.

Which is interesting. I don’t worship a conventional god, deity, in any sense of organized religion. So when my reflective mind tells me, “Our faith has been shaken,” and I know it’s referring to the trust and confidence in people and situations, sardonic self replies with, “What faith?” Of course, faith isn’t simply faith to God or god or whatever you want to call it. My faith is rooted in a set of behaviors and values, and when things run perpendicular to those holdings, I question not only myself, but the world around me. I think that in times of struggle, our faith rolls like the tides.  Betrayals of trust, seeing what was hidden before, whatever the provocation, you see the water recede from your feet, exposing the flotsam and the sand pulls away from under your feet. And as you stand there pondering all that is strewn before you, and wondering when your faith is ever going to return, it’s easy to think it might not come back. Or that it will take a long time to return, at the very least.

But in my solitude today, I realized something. Something that I hadn’t allowed myself to see. Because I spent the first 30 years of my life viewing every problem as something that was mine, and mine alone to solve and resolve. To some extent, that’s still true. In the end, we have to live with ourselves, the choices we make, and that sometimes there is no resolution or clear path. But. I forget to see the faith others have in me.  And while they want to take away my pain (and can’t) or want to resolve my own internal struggle (again, they can’t), that support and desire to make it better remains.  It surrounds me, like the faces of my friends last night, or the arms of my husband, or the emails from people across the expanse, checking in, valuing me, saying hello.

And when I realized the massive volume of that love and support today, I felt my own tightly-wound spool spin unfettered.  Air went deeper into my lungs. The path before me no longer strewn with pitfalls and hurdles, but just a path. One that I must walk, with my own feet, on my own – yet not alone.  Faith, restored.

Can’t you hear that beeeeeeping????

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of issues with my printer/scanner, I started to hear a faint beeping. It was erratic, in many ways – the length of the beep, the frequency of the beep, the time in-between beeps. I figured it was somehow related to the fight I was having with the printer, and dashed out the door, hoping it would somehow magically resolve itself. Or perhaps just my imagination.

Ahhh, magical resolution. I sense I’m not the only one in the universe who’d like that shit to happen.

Of course, it didn’t. The beep was on such a tone/frequency that made it incredibly difficult to figure out exactly where it was coming from. I bitched about it on Ravelry. Several people suggested the usual suspect – smoke detector with a failing battery. And certainly, I’ve been plagued by that one, before, but this was different. Those tend to chirp, sharply, so even when they’re on another floor, you know you actually heard it. This beep was just enough to make you question your hearing and sanity.

I stood by the printer. Beep sounded far away. Stood in the living room. Still could hear it. Stood in the breezeway. Sounded further away. Put head in stairway leading upstairs. Nothin’. Put head in stairway leading to basement. Nothin’. Stood in living room. Faintly heard it again. OK. Gotta be in the living room, and lord help me if it’s some random thing like a digital watch, because I’m currently sitting in my very own mouse nest of knitting, papers, books and other flotsam. It has to be coming from my laptop. Unplug the speakers and the cooling mat. Yep, still beeping. WTF?! Turn it off, shut it down, and blessed silence. Indeed. It’s the laptop.

So this morning, even with the sound shut off, it persists in beeping. Rav peeps (yay #LSG) are also suggesting motherboard and cooling fan issues, and that I can go in and turn it off, but it’s probably trying to tell me something important. Dell service doesn’t seem to start until 8 am (that was the online help, I discovered), so my orange creamsicle came along for the ride to the office.

After some initial language barriers, Sir India Help Man and I were off to the races. I think he finally realized he wasn’t dealing with a plain old tack, but that in fact, I was fairly sharp, and we didn’t need to spell out “D-E-L-L” twice because I was already loping ahead of  him down the path. A few system updates and then came the inquiry, “Do you have a screwdriver?” spoken like Apu from the Simpsons, and now we were going into new territory. I’m good at putting furniture together, I read directions, I follow the steps, I enjoy the process, but things like popping off the bottom of my laptop felt a little treacherous. Fortunately, I only had to take out the battery. I thought. (My first clue should have been the fact I didn’t need to use the screwdriver.)

So after SIHM and I determine which side of the computer is which and it’s upside down, he’s telling me to find THE COMPARTMENT. Ok. The Compartment. I totally felt like I was disarming a bomb with very limited guidance. TWO SCREWS, TWO SCREWS. Well, dude, there are FOUR. No, no! They should not come out! (But they DO! they DO! I skipped telling him they just fell right on out.) Plus my line to India had a bobble that every couple of minutes we had a little 5-second tab of silence, which, when you’re unscrewing the laptop components, is enough to make you keep asking for shit to be repeated, and we were talking over each other, it was a-ok fun times, yesirreeApu. I did get the hard drive taken out, and then I was instructed to re-start the computer. (Me, ever linear and instruction-based: “Don’t I need to put the battery back in first?” “Yes! Yes! I am so sorry.” ) Well, the beeping was over at that point. So it’s the hard drive, and because I had also mentioned the mousepad getting hot, he decided to have the hard drive, motherboard and cooling fan all replaced.

Did I mention I have a two-year warranty that came with the laptop when I bought it? Thank heavens. Some tech person is going to call, make an appointment and fix it on the spot. Double thank  heavens for that part of the warranty.

So now I’m trying to make a backup, but it’s my own twisted form of backup, as Windows keeps hitting some component or software that won’t let it make a traditional backup, and I don’t want to call the Help Line back, because I just can’t imagine the fun that would be. arrrrrrrgh.

But speaking of fun, there was a point that I held the phone to the underside of my laptop and asked him if he could hear the beeping. (No, no he could not.)  Now as long as I don’t start smelling burning hair, at least I know it IS the laptop, and not the onset of a stroke.

Tuesday: Monday in Disguise

I’ve worked almost 12 hours today.

My office phone suddenly started demanding a password any time I tried to something normal, like pick up a call, or call another person in the office.

Then it rejected my password, gave me a strange error message and DEEEE-dooo gave me the middle finger.

The solution I heard was “We’ll just put people into voicemail unless they say it’s important.” What I missed was, “For this afternoon.”

This was not a good Forever Solution to my ears.

Clarification isn’t always clear.

And Tuesdays after holiday weekends are just Mondays with cuter outfits on.

(this didn’t post yesterday. Rather fitting, actually.)

oh mah goooooood

ok, sorry, this isn’t a real post. I’ve spent the morning doing the WP upgrade (sorry, Meesha, no matter how many times I try to use the automatic upgrade, I’m still forced to do the overall upgrade manually.) Which was all fine and dandy until I tried to upgrade my plugins, which absolutely refuse to connect to my server. I’ve checked, double-checked, changed host numbers, tried different passwords, all to no avail. wtf? and then I see that my basic config file hasn’t been updated/upgraded since October, so I edited that  – and suddenly my entire blog went away. I almost threw up. So I restored the old file and blog came back, but I know I don’t have the most current config.php file now, the sizes are different, but this is definitely where the blurring of capability meets doesn’t-necessarily-know-wtf-she-is-doing collide and so I may require some speshal help at some point. I do have a laptop now so I’m mobile, if anyone wants to find time to meet after the snowpocalypse melts.

BLEAH!

But let’s talk about my precious. Precious Ramotswe, named Precious first and foremost because my laptop makes me feel like Gollum, and I want to pet my precioussssss yesssssss, we covet, and then I thought I’d class it up by naming her for the main character in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books, whom I love.  She’s a stately Dell Studio Inspiron, 17″, Windows 7  and has all the bells & whistles I wanted/needed for less than it would have cost to buy a notebook off the shelf & add on the programs. Had to wait a few weeks, but worth it.

My new little friend...JWo said it looks like a creamsicle. It is delicious!

What A Week…

Well, that was a doozy of a week. As each day passed, it got more and more brutal, it seemed! We’re doing a software conversion, and there are elements within the software that defy logic. So as I was connecting said software to my department’s software, there were bumps. And granted, I expected a learning curve, and some frustrations – nothing like this is ever smooth – but one particular piece of it just blew my mind, it defied logic so badly. Actually, I finally  had to call the help line, because I was tired of creating work-arounds to make up for the elements not matching (I realize this makes little sense unless you use both of these pieces of software) and the help lady, who is somewhere in the South, drawled, “Oh yes, we tell folks NEVER to delete lines in that before sending it over.” Huh? That’s the whole point of being able to revise things and preserve the data integrity between systems? Classic. Anyway, I had some long days and maddening moments, but the bulk of it’s done, and now the cleanup part will begin next week.

We did get a fun night in Thursday, tailgating and watching the company kickball team win their game – followed by the final Love Tusk show at the Riot Room. I felt old, though – when their set ended, there was no way we could stay out for any of the other bands. (yawn!) And now it’s Saturday night, I’ve done pretty much nothing with my day, and oh yes, the cops have been by for their regular pilgrimage to Crazy Cat Lady’s home. Who knows what drama is goin’ on over there.  Tomorrow, brace thyselves – it’s Mt. Laundry time. Livin’ the Vida Loca here, as we move past another anniversary, clamber over the army training wall (I mean, software conversion) and when it gets really bad, I just look at the calendar and tell myself….”Cancun. Cancun…..”

Hello, I Must Be Going!

Well, I am heading out tomorrow to St. Louis, to attend The Loopy Ewe’s Spring Fling. Knitters (and spinners!) will be flying in from all over to attend, including three amazing teachers – Wendy, Cookie & Anne – and then the dyemaster herself, Claudia, of Wollmeise.   I’m also excited to finally meet Sheri herself!

But the excitement doesn’t stop – there are going to be sooo many people there to meet, greet, hang out with, knit with, laugh with, all of it. I’ve made so many ‘internet friends’ between Ravelry and Plurk, I know it’s going to be a bit of an overload to match everyone’s little avatar and personality up with their real-life selves. Plus you have the thin sheen of anxiety that goes along with travel and big groups – did I pack everything? How’m I going to carry all this stuff? What if everyone hates me and I spend the weekend in my car, weeping? You know. The basics.  There is also the chance I’ll be breaking bad news to my husband, because George Clooney is shooting a movie in St. Louis, and a group is already planning a sushi dinner on Friday night…at the location where Mr. Clooney has been spotted every Friday.  I’m just saying. George probably has had his fill of tall, willowy model-types, and he might just be looking for a rotund, short, brassy sort of  knitter to round out his experiences in life.

(Probably not.)

(But when my co-workers asked if I’d knit him socks, the answer was an unequivocal, bellowed, “HELLZ YEAH!”)

Meanwhile, work crazes on, and it’s whack-a-mole times.  Partly because of the vacation time I’m taking (all whopping 2.5 days of it, whoa nelly!) and partly because the demands are there – this business has a crazy broken roller-coaster-ness to it, where things are slow and plodding and then suddenly you’re hurtling along at 100 mph and hoping your cart doesn’t go off the rails when you crest the top.

I’ll also be going to Trader Joe’s while I’m in STL – I can only hope that they ask for our zip codes when we checkout, as I know the Kansas City contingency plans to hit their store close to our hotel pretty hard before we drive home on Sunday. Listen up, TJ! Kansas City wants/needs a store (more than one would be awesome!) and we want it NOOOOW! (I’m bringing a cooler. And shopping for co-workers –  Three Buck Chuck, of course.  Perfect for the aforementioned roller coaster!)

James will be selling more tomato and pepper plants this weekend – a couple varieties have sold out already, but he’s got loads of great plants left. Cherokee Purple seems to be the hot tomato this year (yes, Virginia, there is a cutting-edge even in the gardening world!) and he has oodles of those.  It will keep him busy & off the streets while I’m gone, I know that much. EMAIL  him at jworley1@ HOTMAIL [dot] com if you have questions or want to place an order! Yes, you have to type out his  email, but it’s faster than leaving a comment – my computer access will be very limited.

So I’m off – I’ll be Plurking from my Blackberry, certainly, and then I’ll report back next week with pictures & stories! See you then!

Energized, yet Drained. Cheerful, yet Rageaholic.

Yes.  I am covering a wide swath of ground these days. And through it all, I am bizzy bizzy bizzy! I always love being busy, but sometimes it pushes the edges and boundaries of normalcy, and I find that’s when things like …oh… “politeness”, or … “consistency” start to fall by the wayside. Work’s been really busy & I have had some great conversations with my bosses about goals for the year & I already hit a couple balls outta the park, so I feel like th year’s off to a very good start. I’m behind on sending out presents and holiday greetings but hell. Isn’t it better to get a thoughtful note from me when I get around to it, than nothing at all? Or just my signature in a timely manner? That’s my approach & I’m stickin’ to it, dammit.

I joke about the rage-a-holic part, somewhat – I’m still PISSED at Time Warner Cable, because even using my connections, I got a VERY disappointing solution yesterday. Instead of our bill going up 60%? She could knock off a little and make that increase just 40%. FORTY percent. People, this is not gas, or milk, or any other commodity that is finite in its production. Yes, the internet has bandwidth, I understand. But TWC is still going to have to buy MTV and HBO whether or not I’m in their customer base, and there is absolutely NO reason I should stick around for a rate hike so substantial when there are other options. Options that involve hassle on my part, but what’s the best salve for hassle? Nostril-flaring joy that the fuckers over :there: aren’t getting your money any more. I’m not quite at that point yet, because I emailed my contact again with less-florid language describing the above, and it’s now gone on to a different department, presumably one higher on the food chain.  I shall keep you updated, because if I’ve picked up on one thing in this life, is that folks out there have some shared rage against The Man, who sometimes comes in the form of The Cable Company.

I spent a good chunk of my weekend making more DPN Holders for The Loopy Ewe, and my local yarn stores, so I’m chipping away at my cost to go to the LE Spring Fling at the end of April! Woohoo for cottage industry!

I’m off to a blogger meet-up tonight – should be fun & interesting,  since I didn’t get a chance to meet everyone at the last one.  I’ll be the one with my knitting, but I promise, I am oh-so-far from dowdy, shy & retiring.

A Sprinkling of Random Orts….

1. The Crazy Cat Lady across the street is having a new roof put on. I thought that was odd, and the Wo confirmed it. There’s a reason you do roofs in the blazing heat of summer, because shingles have a sticky strip that needs to melt & adhere to the one below it, and if they don’t seal, all kindsa crap can get up in there & then the next big storm comes along and poof! The roof! The roof! The roof is in your yard! But anyway, she parked herself out there in a lawn chair, behind the big-ass dumpster with a beer, and was having a cackling ol’ time with the laborers. God, she is so crazy. We are just hoping that the enormous satellite dish that came off the roof goes INto the dumpster. Seriously. It’s like the size of the ones they use to talk to the moon. You stay classy, Crazy Cat Lady!

2. The dogs are not happy with the laboring going on across the street. Nor are they happy with the new neighborhood scallywag dogs, which seem to be a pair of mutts, one resembles a pit-bull-hound-somethin’ or other, and the other looks like the progeny of an overgrown long-haired dachsund that ravished a chihuahua one late summer afternoon. Good lord that little dog is a shit, running everywhere, barking this high-pitch trill the entire time, and his ears and tail stand upright (like a chihuahua’s) but they’re fringed with long fur, so this thing just looks ridiculous. Tripper tried to clamber OVER the fence to get at it, and boy am I glad we caught him in the act, because that would have just been awful. I think he was under the impression it was new, mutant breed of squirrel, and it HAD TO BE STOPPED.

3. The Great Kitchen Re-Organization was finally completed this afternoon. There are still portions that need cleaning & sorting, but the back breakfast nook/pantry area is clean, organized and whittled down. It is beautiful.  I threw away some old canisters that I liked, but knew no matter how much I lied to myself, just weren’t going to be used. And I sort of chortled nervously, like the Hoarding Police were going to come along and ticket me for Wastefulness. Now we have all the items we use the most in the most accessible places, and I discovered I have three (3) springform pans, none of which were thrown away, because they are all different sizes and they are each extremely beautiful. They’re next to the two different bundt pans, not to be confused with the mini-bundt pan muffin tin, or the daisy-cake pattern pan.  I love all my unitasking pans equally, yes I do. I stood by the back door and admired my work for several minutes tonight, because it was a lot of dirt, sweat & pitching out of things.

4. Speaking of stopping to admire your work. When I taught Amy to knit, I told her that when she came to the end of the row, to stop and admire what she had done.  A little bit later on, she asked me why I said to do that. I tell all my knitting students to do this, as they’re trying something new. Even though it’s just a row, it’s progress, often combined with an advancement of skill, and it should be recognized and rewarded. Even after all these years of knitting, I still love to stop and look at the fabric, hanging from my needles, to see what I have created with sticks and string.

5. The black-eyed pea dish from yesterday? Beans were still crunchy this morning. After 24 hours in a crock pot, on low. So I cranked it up to high and hoped for the best. They did finally cook, and were spicy & savory, but man, there was a lesson learned there, not a day into the new year: BUY CANNED.  Or at least do the boil-soak-overnight thing.

6. I’m going to try and tackle a little bit of organization up in the craft room this weekend; that was my original goal for my vacation, but with the acquisition of the fryer & french-fry cutter, the mess off the kitchen got bumped up the list. I’m glad it worked out that way, because the craft room can still be attacked in smaller chunks of time, but the kitchen area, with the dogs going out into the yard, needed to be finished – and gives me great satisfaction, since I do see it every day. Sigh. I don’t ever get as much done as I hope I will.

7.  I always have over-ambitious (unrealistic) goals for what I’ll accomplish – I’ve done that with knitting projects, too. Going out for dinner & hanging with friends? I simply must bring at least two projects, and perhaps a third, JUST IN CASE. Just in case we’re held hostage? Or snowed in? Or perhaps I fall headfirst into a large pile of cocaine, and consequently find myself knitting at warp speed, confused (but delighted) by my pratfall. I have, at long last, resurrected the Rambling Rows afghan – I’m on block 30, out of 46, and I realized from my Rav queue, I started this sucker over 2 years ago. So I’d like to finish it up while it’s still chilly in the house (it’s very cumbersome as a take-along project, and it’s also made of wool, so summer knitting on it doesn’t fly). Of course, I’ve also started a scarf, and committed to starting another one (and finishing it by the end of the month) in a Loopy Ewe KAL. Suddenly my Scarface scene doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, does it? (J/K! No-no up your nose.)

Tha’s all I’ve got for now! Enjoy the weekend!

My, What A Fetching Chapeau….

Yes. There has been knitting. I haven’t done much in the way of blogging it, partly because I haven’t done as much blogging in general, but whatevs. You forgive. We move on.

Here we have Hat #1, the lovely Koolhaas, by Jared Flood (Ravelry Link, FYI). This hat rekindled my love of twisted stitches, reminding me just how much I adore them. In fact, they sorta make me shriek with joy. Apparently I was so swept up in my twisted stitches, I opted not to follow the pattern accurately, and so I stunted the first few rows by not knitting them in pattern, and continuing to make the stitches travel. If you do not knit, never mind. I made the hat too short. That’s why you see my buddy Amy modeling it, because it went into her birthday stash.

Amy's Koolhaas

According to her mom, it was THE hat in the house, eschewing all others, for a while there. Flattery, Miss Amy, it will get you everywhere, and quite possibly into my stash! I’m going to teach her how to knit over the holiday break, and I’m looking forward to it.

Fresh on the heels of no-hat-for-old-Jen, I knit another Koolhaas, this time for James. He wears it well.

Big grins

Now, I am going to make myself a Koolhaas, and I cast on for one this weekend, in a beautiful merlot-cranberry merino. But I also needed a hat, and fast. Enter the Chunky Cabled Tam, from the latest issue of Knit 1. (Rav Link)  It’s a fast knit – two strands of Manos, doubled, and it sorta killed my hands. But I was determined, and it was whipped out over the weekend. Part way through, I tried it on and got an interesting reaction from my husband. Part amazement, part shock and maybe a sprinkle of horror. “Is that for you?” he enquired…. uh, yeah! “Wow!” I think we agreed it takes balls to wear it, and balls, well, not so much an issue for me. Chutzpah. I haz it.

Cabled Beret

Yes I Can Wear This Hat

Dramarama

Someone at work pointed out it has the potential to resemble uh, Blueberry Muffin, from Strawberry Shortcake, circa 1980.  I’ll grant them that there’s a resemblance, with the caveat it does only when worn IMPROPERLY.  That’s if you put the hat straight up on your head, and anyone who’s ever worn a beret or tam can tell you, nobody makes that look work well. So piss off, Strawberry Shortcake. I’m wearing the hat and everyone else can go suck it.

And, apparently, this is my general approach to the holidays. I’ve not even looked for cards or wrapping materials, and I remain unfazed. The more I participate in the crazy, the crazier it makes me, so I’m resisting. I can smell the panic around the corner, though.

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