“ We’re asking 20000 men to fight with us in the worst winter any of them have ever seen. The weather will be the least of their problems. Many of them will be happy to find a good reason to go home. ”“You question their loyalty?“
I’m so sorry, I don’t really know what to do right now and I’m worried so this will be rambly possibly but I’m at a loss.
I’ve decided to do something I never thought I’d do, open a paypal account for help.
Just hours ago my dog Buddy ate a bag of cinnamon raisin bagel that was sitting on the counter. I feel horrible, I should have pushed them further back or set them on top of the fridge but he managed to jump onto the counter and I went to wash my hands and when I came back he’d eaten 4 and a half of them. I took him to the emergency vet immediately and they were able to get a bagel and a half out of him but he still had two in his system. He has to stay overnight so they can monitor him and he’s getting an IV drip/flush the whole night to clear his system of the raisins and the charcoal tablet they gave him. I’m on mobl eight now so I don’t know how to attach the receipts but it’ll upload them asap.
My paypal link is paypal.me/DogsInPartyHats
Please, a dollar or anything you have to spare if you can donate. If you cannot I fully understand.
I’m so sorry to be bothering y'all with this but tomorrow he has to go back to the clinic for a possible 24 hour surveillance and I don’t know what to do. I’ve cleaned out my savings account to do pay for this first 12 hours and there’s a good chance that he’ll need to go back into a 24 hour clinic tomorrow morning. I was not able to take him tonight as its an extra 40 minutes away and he needed his stomach flushed as soon as possible. I’ve had him for 4 years and he was almost completely dead when the shelter found him, I’m hoping he still has some fight in him to make it through this.
EDIT: the reason why I cleaned out my savings is because I currently have no income as a full time college student and I have ptsd, severe anxiety, and bipolar disorder so it makes working and going to school impossible
one of the most fascinating parts of the passover seder—one of the most eminently quotable, as well—is the narrative requirement that you envision yourself as someone who was taken out of slavery. in many ways, this is a call to action, to social justice: we are tasked with remembering the oppression of our people, and we must look around the world and see the oppression of others. we may not close your eyes and enjoy the victory of freedom: we must mix celebration with sorrow, taking wine out of our goblets with our fingers when we remember the plagues wrecked on the egyptians. this requirement shapes many sedarim all over the world, and i think it allows us to emerge as better people from the eight days of passover, hungry for the thick lushness of bread, for complicated meals and flavors and tastes. for the simplicity and comfort of routine.
but this requirement and call to action is not the only part of the passover seder that instills us with the promise of change. and while a lot of people—including myself—like focusing on the mandate to justice almost exclusively, this year i’ve found myself thinking much more about the happily ever after, about the gift of the ten commandments, the burden of freedom, and that elusive land of milk and honey. this year, for a number of extremely personal and emotional reasons, i’ve been thinking about the way passover is a promise of the future, not just a mandate of the past. the way passover creates a template, tabla rasa, for the year to come. the way it’s a beginning, the way it instills hope, and the way it creates structure for the year to come.
this year i’ve been thinking a lot about after. not just about dayenu (”it would have been enough,” we say, noting our liberation from slavery, our release into the desert, the gift of the torah, the gift of god’s presence), but also about the moment moshe looks over into the land of israel, forward and onward and into the future. the moment the children of israel cross into the land, the moment they put down roots and call themselves tribes of judah, reuven, binyamin. the moment they find names for themselves, find homes, find places where they can plant crops and expect to see them sprout. the moment we, as a wandering, placeless people, put down roots. the moment we become more than a faith–the moment we become a people. the moment we stop worrying about yesterday and today; the moment we can start worrying about tomorrow.
i’ve been thinking a lot about that moment. the apex of self-definition, of coming together, of community and of promise. not because it’s the end of the story, barely mentioned in the haggadah. but because it’s the beginning of the story, in a sense. it’s the moment we put down our history books, sweep away the remnants of food and wine, and talk to one another. it’s the moment we stop remembering, and it’s the moment we make plans. what will we do tomorrow? when do you think we’ll wake up? what time is it–do you think our seder was longer or shorter than anyone else’s? it’s the moment that i remember that my father is one of a few hundred heads of my family who have worn a kittel and stood at the front of our table and said we were slaves and now we are free with a voice that is terribly scratchy and getting older and fainter every year. one day i will stand at the head of that table with my partner, and it will be me making that proclamation of faith. i will be the next in the line of jews who celebrate, commemorate, and then continue.
the seder gives us the gift of reflection. it’s a memorial. it’s a lesson. but sometimes i think it’s more than that–it’s the promise that even in the darkest of times, even in the bleakest of moments, there is always an after. there is a the bed that awaits us after the seder, after we put away our plates and glasses and trudge into bedrooms cool, dark, and welcoming. after the matzah crumbs have been swept off the table, after our stomachs are heavy and our hearts are light with wine and wonder. there is a later. there are eight days of dusty crumbling meals, eight days of regret, eight days of difficulty. eight days where we are reminded of the lowest points in our history–of those people who are still at their lowest points. the mandate of social justice, the call to action, the requirement to see suffering and to address it.
but then there is the ninth day. there is the tenth day. there is the week after, the month after. there is the opportunity to begin again, to look at the body of law handed to us in the vast, empty expanse of desert, and say i will, i can, i must. it is the promise of an unbroken chain, of thousands of years of judaism stretching in every temporal direction. it is the memory that wherever you go, the roots of your story will follow you. you are not alone, and you will never be alone.
this promise of tomorrow is especially meaningful to me. i’ve been thinking a lot about freedom blessed by the constraint of law and by the necessity of compromise. i’ve been thinking a lot about the future. both of these things sound difficult and terrifying sometimes–unbearably overwhelming, unacceptably heavy burdens. but lately i’ve also been thinking about the opportunity of the seder to impose order on all of this chaos–on the chance i will have to set aside a short period of time to reflect, to mourn, to dedicate myself to grounding my story in memory. and then i will be given the imperative of thinking about the future, about tomorrow, and about the promise given to the am, to my people.
my grandfather once told me that jewish history is the promise of thousands of stars that was given to avraham. everything else is a consequence. he never told me that being jewish meant that you will never, ever be alone. you will never be just history. you will always have tomorrow.
now i think he never said this because he knew he didn’t need to. because he knew, one day, i’d figure it out.
Hey! Can you write a Bucky imagine/smut where the reader is Bucky’s main doctor/therapist and because they are so focused on Bucky they don’t have a love life and no one hangs with them but Bucky loves them for it!
A/N: Thank you for the request. I didn’t add any smut as I was feeling more like writing fluff for this piece. Sorry it took so long! Let me know if you like it!
Last stop on my Libs holiday before I fly out tomorrow, a bagel from the Brick Lane bagel place Carl got his infamous beef one from in the TANIB doco. It took me until I ordered before I realised where we were and why Jana had taken me there! Haha fail.
This is my half of a fic-art trade with the amazingly talented @savaage-nymph, who made the most GORGEOUS illustration of knight!Riku and
dragon!Sora for me. Seriously, love, I can’t get over how perfect it
Chapter 1: The 7:05
wasn’t sure when he’d first seen him, whether it had been when the guy
started riding the same train as him daily, or some time after, the
familiar finally detaching itself from the rest of the world. However,
once he noticed the fall of silver hair and brilliant aquamarine eyes,
he couldn’t not notice.
Without fail, when Sora boarded
the 7:05 for his morning commute, he was there, slouched in a seat or
standing with a hand wrapped around a support bar. Sometimes, when Sora
was staying late, he saw him on the way home—always sitting,
then—although the time in the evening was much less reliable. It was
quieter at night, less crowded, giving Sora a better view of the silvery
He’d never seen someone look so removed from their
surroundings; sure, everybody lived in their own bubble while riding the
train, but when Sora looked at him, it was more like he was on a different plane of existence.
Of course, that could have just been Sora being dramatic.
Well I did a very attractive crime syndicate before, here are the very attractive detectives that must surely follow.
Just a note if Detective Vallen asks you to do something, just freaking do it you don’t wanna know what happens if you ignore her orders. Also, don’t talk to Detective Rutherford before he’s had his coffee all you’re gonna get are one word answers and and awful lot of glaring. And of course there’s Detective Theirin, who loves to talk to Detective Rutherford before he’s had his coffee.
I survived. This day wasn’t my greatest, but I got to the gym and did it.
I accidentally did 800 easy between intervals instead of 400, but I’m not going to be too rough on myself. 5.5 miles with warm-up and cool down.
A few of us are particularly guilty of staying late with the boss. This article was not encouraging. Basically, it said you have to put in the face time. Our PR firm is medium sized, so absences are tough. Steve handed this article to me this morning. I think his point was he appreciates all the extra effort. Maybe?
He’s a rough man with scarred hands and an unshaven
face, but he feels real to her in a world that’s merely drifted past her
eyes for far too long. Or, the one where Oliver’s a homeless war veteran and love blooms over roadside bagels. AO3 | FF