Eating healthy is more important than reducing what I throw away.
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we're not kids anymore.
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@brain-drippings
Eating healthy is more important than reducing what I throw away.

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I think we all should.
YES
Happy May the Fourth! I added a second page to this comic from last year!
Having ADHD and RSD really messes with you when someone dies.

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I finally understand why people say "I need a vacation after my vacation."
Self-care day
When I was at my second job last night (grocery store) I realized I had to call off today. Little things were driving me nuts and threatening to overwhelm me.
The other closer has been off since last Thursday, so I've been working full-time these past two weeks. I've worked full-time there before, and this happened. But at that time I didn't realize what the problem was. I thought it was the job.
It is the job, but it's not just what I do at work. It's the amount of work in the week. Working 30 or 40 hours means having only two or three days off. It also means having just enough time to get really awake before going in and being physically and mentally drained when I get home. Almost nothing else gets done, including taking care of myself.
After today I was going to be off for just over a week. I am also the only one scheduled to work in grocery today. But my mental health is more important than that. As soon as I committed to calling off today, I relaxed and started feeling better. That reinforced it.
I called off this morning and went back to bed. After getting up, I spent some time on my phone, which did feel good. Then I went to Meijer and got food that sounded good for lunch. I've had my microwavable coconut jasmine rice and some genoa salami and I feel so much better! I'm hoping to get some things done today, but in my own time. I was planning on getting a lot of tasks done tomorrow and Monday anyway, so I'm making sure today is Self-Care Saturday!
someone invents a recipe > their child loves it > they grow up and replicate it for their own child > their child loves it > they grow up and replicate it for their own child > their child loves it > they grow up and replicate it for their own child > their child loves it > (this continues indefinitely)
The funny thing is as a parent you always think, âmine isnât as good as Nana made it.â But your kid adores it and one day will say âit isnât as good as my mama made it but the kids like it.â
and on it goes
and so love is passed down the chain of generations, on and on, from mouth to mouth to heart to heart
Love is stored in the Multi-Generational Game Of Telephone.
Love is stored in the
Multi-Generational
Game Of Telephone.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
My family has a cake recipe called âThree Generation Cake.â On the recipe card (old and faded and stained), my father explained the title, âGrandmaâs cake, Momâs frosting, and my stomach.â
Of course, I am now the fourth generation who bakes this cake. (I never met my great-grandmother. She died shortly before my dad met my mother, but he tells me stories about her. She spoke three languages and was trying to learn Portuguese when she died. She wore a fur coat over a muumuu and owned a wolfdog. When she was widowed in the Great Depression, she supported her family by playing piano in a honkey-tonk before lying her way into a radiology position. Her second husband was a British naval officer who was trained on a ship with sails and who gave her jewels by pouring them into a bowl and handing it to her at breakfast.)
My mother used it to make a wedding cake for my sisterâs wedding. (My dad insists his grandma would have loved my mom, both plain-speaking women from the midwest.) My brother-in-law fell in love with this cake, to his own surprise, as he loves chocolate and the wedding cake has none. Now it is his birthday cake of choice. I have baked it for him multiple times.
One day my sister will teach her son how to make the cake from his great-great grandmotherâs recipe. I will tell him stories about her, this woman I never met but who is so real to me.
The love will continue on.

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This is weird bevause ive had this exact thought before
Actually it really does help to paint the picture
"why don't you set an alarm to remind yourself to put your marbles in your bag?" i will fill your shoes with goo
let's introduce karoline leavitt to the streisand effect
This picture of Karoline Leavitt (left) was scrubbed from AFP and Getty's systems after WH complained
An unflattering photo of Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt has been removed from circulation after press agencies were âmade awareâ that the
"This is where it starts... Because... This is your story as much as those that came before you." âBlack Arms to Hold You Up

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A few months before he passed away in 2003, a 74 year old childrenâs television host sat down in the same studio where he had filmed 895 episodes over 33 years and recorded one last message. It wasnât for children. It was for the adults who had grown up watching him.
Fred Rogers hosted Mister Rogersâ Neighborhood on American public television from 1968 to 2001. For over three decades he walked into the same set, changed into a cardigan and sneakers, looked directly into the camera, and spoke to children as if each one of them was the only person in the room. He never raised his voice, never talked down to his audience, and never rushed a single moment.
In that final recording, he looked into the camera one last time and said âIâm just so proud of all of you who have grown up with us. And I know how tough it is some days to look with hope and confidence on the months and years ahead. But I would like to tell you what I often told you when you were much younger. I like you just the way you are.â
He passed away from stomach cancer on February 27, 2003. He was 74.
Sometimes you're in your 50s and still need a dose of courage from Mr. Rogers when the world feels scary.
I will forever miss Fred Rogers. RIP
stopppp everyone absolutely needs to see this
So my dad was the assistant music editor on Tarzan, and idk if it was Bring Your Kid to Work Day or something but one day he did just that so there I was, this incredibly small 1st grader, in an absolutely cavernous recording studio with a full orchestra and a giant screen playing the scene they were taping the score for, and my little brain couldn't handle the big music and the big movie happening all at once so I started crying and it was the first time music ever brought me to tears and it was too much to take in so we stepped out of the studio and ran directly into Phil Collins, who looked to me very much like my dad, and in my delicate emotional state I became immediately convinced that my dad had been copied and nobody had told me so I started crying harder, and Phil Collins said something that was probably meant to be calming but it was with a British accent so I thought there was a copy of my dad in every country and I absolutely lost it at the notion that other kids would get to have my dad, and my dad ended up having to carry me back to the car.
So.
Sorry for crying very loudly at you Phil Collins, your work on Tarzan was so moving it triggered my first emotional breakdown.
the only thing that could top that clip is that story