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Two for Mirth

@magpierhymes

A strange way to count birds
Cole | she/her | technically a millennial
When we say that sex work is service work, we don’t say that just to sanitize or elevate the status of sex workers, but also to make plain that the same workers are performing sex work and nonsexual service work. In her study of Rust Belt strippers published in Policing Pleasure: Sex Work, Policy, and the State in Global Perspective, Susan Dewey observed that the vast majority of the dancers— all but one— at one club in upstate New York had worked outside the sex industry, and “many had left intermittently for low-wage, service-sector work elsewhere before returning with the recognition that they preferred the topless bar with its possibility of periodic windfalls from customers.” For the dancers who Dewey surveyed, it was the work outside of the sex industry that was “exploitative, exclusionary, and without hope for social mobility or financial stability.”

melissa gira-grant, playing the whore: the work of sex work

ITS GREAT LAKES AWARENESS DAY!!!!!

On this excellent day, be aware that this is the largest group of freshwater lakes in the world, covering over 95,000 square miles and reaching depths of over a thousand feet. They are beautiful freshwater seas.

Also when you die in these lakes, the very cold, oxygen-poor conditions at the bottom preserves you perfectly for all eternity. You will not rot and nothing will eat you. You will exist for as long as the Great Lakes do. Many shipwrecks still have the crew on board. Be Aware.

Look a duck :)

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That's only true of Lake Superior. Sometimes bodies take longer to float in the other lakes, but Lake Superior is the one that's famous for never giving up her dead. The reason is that the lake is so cold that it inhibits bacteria growth, which is why bodies stay preserved and don't "bloat and float".

So many bodies floated up in Lake Michigan last year that they thought there was a serial killer, but it turned out the water was just warming up.

I live near Lake Erie, which is the warmest and most shallow of all the Great Lakes. So while Lake Superior is too cold for bacteria, Lake Erie has so much bacteria that it straight up becomes toxic pretty much every summer. There are several beaches along Lake Erie, and they get red-flagged on a regular basis because bacteria levels are so high.

So like... Lake Superior will preserve your body if you drown, but between the E. Coli and the wicked rip current, Lake Erie is just actively trying to murder people.

Also, I know it's not May 8th anymore, but I do love these lakes...

Lake Erie (Port Stanley) you can't see the other side, but if you could, you'd be looking at Ohio from here:

Lake Erie (Port Dover):

Lake Erie (Tyrconnell):

Lake Ontario (as seen from the top of the CN Tower... and you can't see all of it here, but this gives an idea of how big this lake actually is... and this is the smallest one, by surface area. Lake Superior is over 4 times as big as this one):

Lake Ontario (as seen from the top of the CN Tower, but at night and in the winter this time):

Lake Huron:

... I have never been to Lake Michigan or Lake Superior. I thought I saw Lake Michigan once, but it turned out it was a different part of Lake Huron lol

These are lakes?!?!?

I've driven alongside lake Erie and lake Michigan before but it's always been at night so I dont think my brain doesnt fully grasp how big they are. That and i grew up going to the beach and looking out at the gulf of Mexico so I think even if I saw it my mind would think "ocean"

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I used to work at a beach store on a Lake Erie beach, and I had a woman come in one time who was from BC and had never seen a great lake, but had lived by the ocean her entire life, and she could not believe that was a fresh water lake. Like, pictures don't do them justice... you stand on the beach, and you can't see the other side of the lake, in any direction. And with the waves, it looks like an ocean.

But it doesn't smell like an ocean lol it definitely smells like a lake 🤣

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On old dogs.

What a feeling when the dog at the other end of the leash you've been holding for the past 8 years begins to grow old.

What a privilege.

It's snuck up on me, but there is no denying it. She is becoming old. It's in the way she holds her once broken rear leg out at an odd angle. It's in the way she has a raspier pant on long walks. It's in the way she stares and weaves and stares some more when her failing vision lies to her on our evening walks, telling her the shadows are creatures to be wary of.

10 isn't so bad. 10 is not ancient in Greyhound years. 10 is quite respectable. After all, her mother died at the grand ole age of 15. But what do you feel when you know her sire died at 11? What do you feel when you know Greyhounds who needed to cross over at 9?

You feel blessed for each day you are graced by her presence.

Her body has always been so solid, so muscular, bursting with life and vigor. It seems to be a bit cumbersome now, her small stick legs slightly stumbling when she missteps. Her once-glorious muscles seeming to weigh her down.

She is not pathetic and feeble, oh no. She rambunctiously wrestles with the whippet, surprising me with how exuberant these matches are. I think she feels better after i started her on daily joint supplements. She doesn't pace as much at 2am. Her spirit is still bright and shines out of her mischievous face. She is still quintessentially Layla.

I'm thinking about these things on our evening walk, watching her as she pauses to sniff bushes enthusiastically.

Yes, she says, head shoved up to her eyes into someone's flowers. This is my favorite thing.

I'm thinking about these things as i sit on her bed. She shoves her silvered muzzle into my palm.

Yes, she says. Please rub my snoot. You know this is my favorite thing.

I'm thinking about these things as i stroke her face. Her eyes, hazey with the blue that old dogs seem to get, stare into mine. I gently massage her ear.

Yes, she says. Please rub my other ear. You know this is my favorite thing.

What a feeling, what a privilege to give a faithful old dog her favorite things.