tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64039533915473219562024-03-20T23:47:22.265-07:00Little Stitches of JoyWelcome to Little Stitches of Joy!
I'm almost 30 and have quite a few problems, but an over abundance of money isn't one of them! ...
Things posted here will usually fall along the lines of:
Crafts, Mental Illness, Relationships, Pets, and My Life.
Join me while I wade though all of this mess!Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-22677862258432653892019-07-08T15:55:00.000-07:002019-07-08T15:55:44.552-07:00Lets Blow the Dust Off of This...Hello Everyone!<br />
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All five people who have seen this anyways.<br />
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It's been quite a while, hasn't it? Lots has happened! Reading over the old posts seems so strange because I have grown <i>so much</i> since then.<br />
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The main reason I haven't posted is because I lost my email address, and couldn't log in to post anything. I got home from work today, plunked down and decided,<br />
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<i>I WILL FIND A WAY TO POST MORE ON THAT SILLY LITTLE BLOG.</i><br />
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So, here we are!<br />
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And <i>where</i> are we exactly?<br />
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Since I last posted (8/13/15!!!) the following has happened:<br />
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New job!<br />
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Moved!<br />
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Still crocheting!<br />
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Taking commission work!<br />
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Can take care of plants without them turning brown!<br />
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Still can't math!<br />
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Got Married to Artist Boyfriend!<br />
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Had pet rats!<br />
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Have a new Diagnosis!<br />
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And many more!!!<br />
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Look out for new blogs!<br />
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-39126721853785988432015-08-13T17:26:00.002-07:002015-08-13T17:26:40.076-07:00Why I hate the market #3Here is another reason I hate going to the market, illustrated for comedic value.<br />
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At some point in my market run, I'll come across this situation:<br />
I want something on the shelf, but someone else is in the way.<br />
They aren't moving, they are moseying about and wasting time, perhaps even texting, but all DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE THING I WANT TO BUY.<br />
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So, I'll stand there awkwardly, panic rising, as I just wait.</div>
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If I am particularly unlucky, the person in the way will turn to me and ask if I wanted something from the shelf they were blocking.</div>
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There is no worse feeling than having a panic attack in public, and having to pretend everything is okay, because you know people won't understand.</div>
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Although I can appreciate someone trying to help (especially a complete stranger), </div>
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they usually don't know what to do, or what they try just makes me panic more.</div>
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-19586889845388389602015-02-22T17:15:00.001-08:002015-02-22T17:15:20.775-08:00Anxiety, Guilt, AvoidanceSo normally, I am happy posting away at my blog in a sea of pillows and warm blankets.<br />
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This is the normal habitat of a blogger.<br />
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Lately though, I have been a bit busy, and have not had a chance to post.</div>
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I totally did all these things.</div>
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In one month.</div>
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...</div>
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Yes.</div>
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Okay, these were lies.</div>
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I have fallen into a cycle that I fall into frequently that nearly defeats me every time:</div>
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Anxiety, Guilt, Avoidance.</div>
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I mentioned this a little with my post about LAUNDRY, but here is a different situation:</div>
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I drank tea from a cup right before bedtime, and left it on the night stand while I slept.</div>
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The next morning, I have forgotten about the mug, and so it sits untill that night, when I notice it again.</div>
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Thus, the cycle begins.</div>
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<b><u>ANXIETY</u></b></div>
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<b><u>GUILT</u></b></div>
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<u><b>AVOIDANCE</b></u></div>
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And this is why I have not posted in a month.</div>
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On a regular basis this cycle takes hold of me, and I know it's an integral part of my depression, and there is nothing wrong with that. I just need to learn from past events, and try harder next time.</div>
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...and take my medicine.</div>
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...and not watch horror movies.</div>
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...or have caffeine. </div>
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Boy this is hard trying to be emotionally and mentally healthy! </div>
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If you are struggling with depression, anxiety, or any mental illness, then just remember:</div>
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Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-32829123326207778062015-01-27T16:40:00.000-08:002015-01-27T16:40:46.409-08:00Trying New Antidepressants: A Beginner's ObservationsHaving depression and anxiety, I have tried a plethora of different antidepressant medications. Actually, I am still trying to find one that is "just right" for me. I suppose I may be a bit physically sensitive to antidepressants, and thus I have had a hard time finding any I can tolerate for more than a few days.<br />
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Sometimes, especially the first few I tried, they make my legs feel really weird, plus other odd, distressing physical sensations. </div>
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They can make me feel "out-of-touch" with myself, which makes me even more distressed, particularly in public.</div>
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Other times, they make me nauseous.</div>
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I think worst of all, some of them do nothing to help.</div>
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So this all comes to me calling my Doctor's office, and politely requesting I have an appointment for a med check up.</div>
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My Doctor is super nice, even though I've been a bit grumpy towards her at times. She always works with me, and I always take her advice.</div>
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After the med check up, she usually prescribes something new, and I'm off to the pharmacy to try this whole process over again. </div>
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-80954339296176259182015-01-21T13:43:00.001-08:002015-01-22T21:10:42.406-08:00What does depression feel like?My friends and family ask me how I'm doing, especially when I'm anxious or depressed.<br />
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I usually describe depression as a "wet blanket" or a "fog". I can't really focus on anything, moving around is hard, and I don't really want to do anything, particularly things I really like to do normally.</div>
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Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-76805075775959147712015-01-19T22:15:00.001-08:002015-01-19T22:25:47.533-08:00MY CARD WAS DENIEDArtist Boyfriend and I went to a nice Mexican restaurant for dinner recently.<br />
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When we were finished, I paid the bill like normal. </div>
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I thought everything would be fine. </div>
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Yes, I had ordered a new debit card due to a hack of a place I had shopped at, yet it had not arrived yet. </div>
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The bank assured me that my old card would work until the new one arrived. </div>
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They were wrong.</div>
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The waiter came back with the dreaded words, "I'm so sorry miss, your card has been declined."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUiF2vz8IjafKc_uopInFOXBiBG2rxmuqW1Rv7SR9F-pMOIzGYuyUJR98mRmqvjyp0CdeMZfAYMuYrzcm88SJdn7NbUl3Mvnrh4Wxxr9jCwnQFR1rvtONrgAmDaXs1krrMUxlr68Jjdc/s1600/declined.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUiF2vz8IjafKc_uopInFOXBiBG2rxmuqW1Rv7SR9F-pMOIzGYuyUJR98mRmqvjyp0CdeMZfAYMuYrzcm88SJdn7NbUl3Mvnrh4Wxxr9jCwnQFR1rvtONrgAmDaXs1krrMUxlr68Jjdc/s1600/declined.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></div>
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My worst fear had just come to light. The reason I hold my breath when I check out anywhere with my card. </div>
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A panic attack was setting in, there was nothing I could do.</div>
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Maybe I could try to melt into my chair?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXv_2DaVffItYyANkfMcRgyTBvtvUfgFXL__xNN6RYgiLD1MhIoaYm43tAQC3QiJbkrjhX2on9aF53HeSikQNQ6CB9FIh10b9vF8nGNXihp45PfD7s8E56iminUc-xAcMhuzB3O9LDDs/s1600/cair+melt+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXv_2DaVffItYyANkfMcRgyTBvtvUfgFXL__xNN6RYgiLD1MhIoaYm43tAQC3QiJbkrjhX2on9aF53HeSikQNQ6CB9FIh10b9vF8nGNXihp45PfD7s8E56iminUc-xAcMhuzB3O9LDDs/s1600/cair+melt+1.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-M_oMQeI33AlHxqGjvp_uecj9aD_hC9jHMLci0P7L8Bt5mjgy6As470HWrDp-4ysWOLqcPJVTPvQp0Rl9ESs6ZH5c9CzgGnjMKWKJBLSHo4BQ2zcQ7tIBgVhiTASoILCO_yPawE_y0Z4/s1600/cair+melt+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-M_oMQeI33AlHxqGjvp_uecj9aD_hC9jHMLci0P7L8Bt5mjgy6As470HWrDp-4ysWOLqcPJVTPvQp0Rl9ESs6ZH5c9CzgGnjMKWKJBLSHo4BQ2zcQ7tIBgVhiTASoILCO_yPawE_y0Z4/s1600/cair+melt+2.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLDhRiuFZAtHXTEWG9eWI_hrBqZhBamvmAI_mLw9fcNvWuD_73kDCGFNLzihC9psXo-RIDGUX5t13IdJ_nxgYgOK1qx21_nvb9C5Q8kywbxEX6BSaYfFXZcPIOiXfUZRgJ1f203wWXp8/s1600/cair+melt+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLDhRiuFZAtHXTEWG9eWI_hrBqZhBamvmAI_mLw9fcNvWuD_73kDCGFNLzihC9psXo-RIDGUX5t13IdJ_nxgYgOK1qx21_nvb9C5Q8kywbxEX6BSaYfFXZcPIOiXfUZRgJ1f203wWXp8/s1600/cair+melt+3.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNxr0BdPfo3X-dPhxOI9o9wK1Wgok27Eoq51lhdABGYzt8eAszPSSi7FKxXXOXebkfMg0lejU-vt7gvTKAjR3rpqJkPjHGZacteMoJcbal34KLHBYoszoWiKZLGyPOX8PBA9lf9-in1g/s1600/cair+melt+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNxr0BdPfo3X-dPhxOI9o9wK1Wgok27Eoq51lhdABGYzt8eAszPSSi7FKxXXOXebkfMg0lejU-vt7gvTKAjR3rpqJkPjHGZacteMoJcbal34KLHBYoszoWiKZLGyPOX8PBA9lf9-in1g/s1600/cair+melt+4.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>
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I knew this wouldn't work, as I have tried it before.</div>
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I actually drove home, leaving Artist Boyfriend at the restaurant, to scrounge some quarters from our piggy bank.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CefedTvhmWWBXuYJ2urL6eYSjsrIZEQQvEoX8p7Xb-ua_QNNqG25mK7XOeExD_Q3hfrzkFBH8YY_vlQ3SCI0CQ_H5GD9WUtJAao59OzclCuUjHkrtwpbdp3B5o4v2MqLeV7CxCXe3vc/s1600/frantice+ride+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-CefedTvhmWWBXuYJ2urL6eYSjsrIZEQQvEoX8p7Xb-ua_QNNqG25mK7XOeExD_Q3hfrzkFBH8YY_vlQ3SCI0CQ_H5GD9WUtJAao59OzclCuUjHkrtwpbdp3B5o4v2MqLeV7CxCXe3vc/s1600/frantice+ride+home.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></div>
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($13.56, plus a $4 tip, by the way.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aqvB7tgQJpF_pVtUE6XYMwWM3MHZsSF97MsbaLDj-U6QkrKMzE-f1-HGel1R-UqnNp_GDuZV5KuToGf9hKXGfkULfUYAKU64QlHIYGRe_OI6hQb4PdEW-aPsAs8vF-yipYU_fpqfmiQ/s1600/shit+ton+of+quarters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8aqvB7tgQJpF_pVtUE6XYMwWM3MHZsSF97MsbaLDj-U6QkrKMzE-f1-HGel1R-UqnNp_GDuZV5KuToGf9hKXGfkULfUYAKU64QlHIYGRe_OI6hQb4PdEW-aPsAs8vF-yipYU_fpqfmiQ/s1600/shit+ton+of+quarters.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></div>
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Everything did turn out okay, and the waiter didn't seem to mind. </div>
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Every business needs a crap-ton of change, right? </div>
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... Right?</div>
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Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-82850110126058452462015-01-17T21:02:00.002-08:002015-01-17T21:02:52.459-08:00Crochet CrittersHere are some of the crochet critters I have crocheted and knitted:<br />
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On my laptop is (left to right) a bunny, a unicorn, a fat cat, an alligator, and a hamster.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyw1PKA1dnKkRG6LCdTh2Dh4Z_fY3BK_oUZRN__keucc4GiaWBUPCilfhVbG9RwjutHLxUaK6gwQLmSvH_9jaFGH6S030EVjehxn-uddzvkXRZo7QF9fFmkH4IgYNsLrSiNG1O0bmYJ0U/s1600/the+whole+gang.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyw1PKA1dnKkRG6LCdTh2Dh4Z_fY3BK_oUZRN__keucc4GiaWBUPCilfhVbG9RwjutHLxUaK6gwQLmSvH_9jaFGH6S030EVjehxn-uddzvkXRZo7QF9fFmkH4IgYNsLrSiNG1O0bmYJ0U/s1600/the+whole+gang.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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A close up of the alligator:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUZHWWcCUohBB09-5amkJCQi3g4Y9jWfpjL3-ah0LgzX6u9AUfowOJuZ0Nrhpxh0Hglp_oP80tVFzq9j5ei4kSrHM4Xe1r9H59MbX9nGrqwLcrWpKKH11j8aqMQenAI7aR4z9WEToqjk/s1600/c+alligotor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUZHWWcCUohBB09-5amkJCQi3g4Y9jWfpjL3-ah0LgzX6u9AUfowOJuZ0Nrhpxh0Hglp_oP80tVFzq9j5ei4kSrHM4Xe1r9H59MbX9nGrqwLcrWpKKH11j8aqMQenAI7aR4z9WEToqjk/s1600/c+alligotor.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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The unicorn:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKgzTwvj4_T4xIqqFNcA_Du3MoRQRyQhvDCUwTX6LhHq0sVk4JccvZBi6XGdm8LWp2fNIn0uwPYGU6FE5FbgoazkX339sn8pktwFgQ2RO7K6625odbH32OVITbKl7f-DKEMtbvv72YO0/s1600/c+unicorn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKgzTwvj4_T4xIqqFNcA_Du3MoRQRyQhvDCUwTX6LhHq0sVk4JccvZBi6XGdm8LWp2fNIn0uwPYGU6FE5FbgoazkX339sn8pktwFgQ2RO7K6625odbH32OVITbKl7f-DKEMtbvv72YO0/s1600/c+unicorn.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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My teeny tiny hamster:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51I2hPqeWjGSIhERCAWeXRkBoqKQIJEulJ_g3WFkrRM1o2ZW8DJi59XUdq_dUYpwCrtPuTeG2GUUia6svChJnk2G5p1VkoxIvzEhTalmFI5t4IorKL2AOX0NmjaWitas-GYQJXlRl8UM/s1600/k+hamster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51I2hPqeWjGSIhERCAWeXRkBoqKQIJEulJ_g3WFkrRM1o2ZW8DJi59XUdq_dUYpwCrtPuTeG2GUUia6svChJnk2G5p1VkoxIvzEhTalmFI5t4IorKL2AOX0NmjaWitas-GYQJXlRl8UM/s1600/k+hamster.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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And this is the sweety who I based the knitted hamster off of, Om-nom.<br />
She very recently passed away.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2nBIA-dJvprxIYRpm7YPnywCuxAxpYoO4Nq34J9xWa2DcYMAe4GF3ik-vuIcixwJ-77IDHjEFVnp-bdv2lOZwtCRrlJ9Cbni5qBibR6hv-iia_oRPZ-Pe4u0awV5JZlyuxlGrch5xYv4/s1600/noms+cute.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2nBIA-dJvprxIYRpm7YPnywCuxAxpYoO4Nq34J9xWa2DcYMAe4GF3ik-vuIcixwJ-77IDHjEFVnp-bdv2lOZwtCRrlJ9Cbni5qBibR6hv-iia_oRPZ-Pe4u0awV5JZlyuxlGrch5xYv4/s1600/noms+cute.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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"All of these are for me?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNbEDUxuhJChcbSeQsI8eSiiXpmU5dWYwybXat00B6u01FVBdp4OqZoxtih6dG69W-2GjYTEOU8P_QAWLEUDkIBAazs1S6LYZ9cax3to9q8Gx4kTwDmW77vRAXtrhyphenhyphenl9tbmq9-gpV8rY/s1600/noms+noming.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNbEDUxuhJChcbSeQsI8eSiiXpmU5dWYwybXat00B6u01FVBdp4OqZoxtih6dG69W-2GjYTEOU8P_QAWLEUDkIBAazs1S6LYZ9cax3to9q8Gx4kTwDmW77vRAXtrhyphenhyphenl9tbmq9-gpV8rY/s1600/noms+noming.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Taking some treats:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKCPmS3P-VBlqHeR7JEaQahDuZSNsj8y8XRZAw_so2DU12DipbOvwKqcK5rQyXOaDiMdomWhlmM28A8kg_YDOrSGSS64y5cH2gLJYLfC5hyA26flDcuXQgvT7b6ST0vtogn_h3h6jKQg/s1600/noms+kisses.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpKCPmS3P-VBlqHeR7JEaQahDuZSNsj8y8XRZAw_so2DU12DipbOvwKqcK5rQyXOaDiMdomWhlmM28A8kg_YDOrSGSS64y5cH2gLJYLfC5hyA26flDcuXQgvT7b6ST0vtogn_h3h6jKQg/s1600/noms+kisses.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-59119263760397682302015-01-12T19:07:00.002-08:002015-01-12T19:07:51.180-08:00The ENEMYI was out and about today, and stopped at a gas station for some lunch. at this particular gas station, they have a "Made To Order" station, where you can use a touch screen and basically order anything you want, or don't want on your sandwich.<br />
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I ordered my usual vegetarian sub sandwich, and ate it in my car, like the socially awkward person I am.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fwZ9vyGajSPXSAXYt0QLauYGmaNbWbGD55KsfxSAsnU1xX0FrrzghMv3ZqNzjOrYRwobygj6QaTbv58PUPc0hmA0zBfdJ8Gjl5_raNGFJbBPm8nkgmr2jI1lqjn98gMWfdToWjXs6VE/s1600/car+sub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4fwZ9vyGajSPXSAXYt0QLauYGmaNbWbGD55KsfxSAsnU1xX0FrrzghMv3ZqNzjOrYRwobygj6QaTbv58PUPc0hmA0zBfdJ8Gjl5_raNGFJbBPm8nkgmr2jI1lqjn98gMWfdToWjXs6VE/s1600/car+sub.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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But then, I noticed my sandwich tasted... off. There was something I did not order in there.<br />
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Then I knew what it was. The enemy.<br />
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AN OLIVE.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0dF0R5GqmrYenL_bacdKxiJABCJVPGtt6_sCZSas213W63ZHCCXnJsORolk8ngd716VR6NTBhAyKUB_tUKrweRi5Rkj4BCme5Lbb1__pf9BviYQcq6McsuItXroEwg1XGxrfDXgZ5RBY/s1600/the+olive+enemy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0dF0R5GqmrYenL_bacdKxiJABCJVPGtt6_sCZSas213W63ZHCCXnJsORolk8ngd716VR6NTBhAyKUB_tUKrweRi5Rkj4BCme5Lbb1__pf9BviYQcq6McsuItXroEwg1XGxrfDXgZ5RBY/s1600/the+olive+enemy.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8gx15yp6LBU_GhjhH5-8cbMAw3ZY6c_gDbTBYc-QFr7106UX4wAukgVATnPMZ6mtyLsKM6sdtlEbHHSXEQu6L8sO_n3mb9yrgT5d6GJHfQ0gEsfIQ3OXu-0HRdYZ0MJDl2QNehh9HSYw/s1600/overcome+the+olive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8gx15yp6LBU_GhjhH5-8cbMAw3ZY6c_gDbTBYc-QFr7106UX4wAukgVATnPMZ6mtyLsKM6sdtlEbHHSXEQu6L8sO_n3mb9yrgT5d6GJHfQ0gEsfIQ3OXu-0HRdYZ0MJDl2QNehh9HSYw/s1600/overcome+the+olive.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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I decided today was the day I would overcome this silly feud I had with all olives, and I would DESTROY THAT OLIVE, SO ALL HIS BRETHREN WOULD TREMBLE IN FEAR AT THE WHISPER OF MY NAME.<br />
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Needless to say, I still don't like olives, and two bites of my sandwich were a little unpleasant, but I felt proud of myself for trying to do something out of my comfort zone.<br />
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-14234078893517096412015-01-06T22:54:00.001-08:002015-01-06T23:10:07.617-08:00LaundryI tend to get overwhelmed easily.<br />
<br />
It can become a bit of a problem at times.<br />
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For a small example, here is how I typically do laundry:<br />
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Let us start with a clean basket. (A rare occurrence.)<br />
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Then, a few clothes will be tossed in.<br />
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No biggie, no need to do laundry today.<br />
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Then, the laundry basket gets a little fuller, but not so full that it's a problem. I still have clean clothes to wear.<br />
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Then, all of a sudden, it becomes A HUGE LAUNDRY MONSTER THAT I HAVE IGNORED FOR A MONTH AND A HALF, AND I'M WEARING THE LAST CLEAN CLOTHES I HAVE.<br />
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This is so overwhelming, because it starts a cycle of negative self-talk. I'll say to myself, "You can't even do laundry what's wrong with you? You always put off easy things like this! Looser! Get yourself together! YOU DON'T DESERVE CLEAN CLOTHES. OH, ARE YOU UPSET NOW? GOOD.", which makes me feel bad, and I avoid the situation until I simply can't ignore it anymore.<br />
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-76854676913161736592015-01-04T22:34:00.001-08:002015-01-04T22:34:10.907-08:00THE GYMAs part of my New Year's Resolutions, I did indeed go to the gym today.<br />
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It was my first time being in a gym since high school.<br />
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I expected the day to go like this:<br />
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But actually, going to the gym went really well. No one judged me, or even really looked at me.<br />
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I found the treadmills, and walked beside my boyfriend and his Mom, for thirty minutes.<br />
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I am very excited to go back!<br />
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Go me!Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-15654018410494617542015-01-04T00:52:00.001-08:002015-01-04T00:52:46.121-08:00SleepI have trouble sleeping. Without medication, I don't get to sleep very easily, nor stay asleep very well.<br />
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It usually goes like this:<br />
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And there I am left, trying to not think about that time I called my best girl friend by the wrong name, when I peed on my roller skates in the backyard, or when I tried to check out, and didn't have enough money in the account.Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-70308588290584327152014-12-31T13:09:00.001-08:002014-12-31T13:09:45.131-08:00New Year's Resolutions (2015)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy New Year everyone!<br />
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So, normally I make bogus resolutions, because I never really know who to say to people when they ask for polite conversation, "So, what are your New Year's Resolutions?"<br />
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This year is different, however.<br />
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I have real goals to better myself, for myself this year.<br />
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Resolution #1:<br />
Go to the gym and work out to loose weight, and feel emotionally better.<br />
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Resolution #2:<br />
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Eat food that is good for me.</div>
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Resolution #3:<br />
Do things that will help me heal, and be at peace with myself.<br />
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Happy New Year!</div>
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-18995719208260307332014-12-29T13:28:00.001-08:002014-12-29T13:28:26.767-08:00Knitting in Public (KIP)As you may have already read, I like to knit.<br />
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Probably too much.<br />
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But, it helps alleviate my anxiety and symptoms of depression, so I don't think it's really a problem. Yet.<br />
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I don't like public places, so I tend to knit to keep my anxieties down.<br />
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This can be bad.<br />
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One time while my boyfriend was being seen by a doctor, I was left to my own devices in the waiting room. While knitting happily away, I was approached by a woman who began to talk to me.<br />
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It shouldn't, but this sends me into a tizzy.<br />
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I get super awkward and don't know how to handle this situation very well. Although I know I don't sound all that retarded, in my head I sound something like this:<br />
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Usually people get the idea that I'm not quite ready for social interactions yet, and leave me alone to knit complacently again.<br />
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<br />Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-2160728260664176772014-12-28T23:27:00.002-08:002014-12-29T11:08:25.041-08:00Poop CatI have a very sweet, yet at times challenging cat. Let's call her "Poop Cat".<br />
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When Poop Cat came home, she was super skinny, and had some litter box problems right away.<br />
Like not knowing where it was. Or what it was. We're not sure.<br />
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After NUMEROUS attempts at fixing the problem ourselves, nothing seemed to work, and we had to confine her to the kitchen at night. (Linoleum cleans easily.)<br />
So it seemed we had a hopeless cat. We were doomed to clean poop of the kitchen floor forever.<br />
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About two months ago, we discovered that Poop Cat wasn't retarded, but had feline hyperthyroidism. She wasn't healthy! The being skinny, and having box problems where two big signs we didn't even know where signs.<br />
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So, now on medicine, she is doing A LOT better. Poop Cat is gaining weight, and using her box almost regularly now.<br />
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Poop cat does do "protest poops" though. If we all go out, and leave her alone for an extended time, she will poop on the floor. Usually in the middle, or in front of the sink. I'm convinced she does this on purpose.<br />
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When we do get home, she regrets her decision to poop on the floor, and lacking thumbs to clean it up, feels bad about it.<br />
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She is getting better.<br />
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Slowly.<br />
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But better.<br />
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Still poops on the floor.<br />
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But better.Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-12397788437782569102014-12-27T17:27:00.002-08:002014-12-27T17:27:52.647-08:00Reason #2 I hate the marketI have pretty severe anxiety. Going to the market is hard enough when everything goes well.<br />
I'm not sure how your markets work, but at the one I frequent, Let's call it Little Eagle, they have "self check out" cash registers. It's like this: you can scan your own products, and a computer deals with that pesky human interaction of a cashier. This is why I ALWAYS go for the self check out.<br />
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Problems come for me when something won't scan, something scans wrong, or the computer decides that it's done with my crap.<br />
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When this happens, the light above the register will blink.<br />
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It blinks, calling you an idiot, while you wait for a real person to fix your problem. A friendly voice come from the register telling you, "A team member is one the way."<br />
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THIS IS WHY I DIDN'T WANT TO GO TO THE NORMAL REGISTERS. TO AVOID HUMAN INTERACTION.<br />
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So now I wait awkwardly for a team member to swipe their card, fixing the problem, but inadvertently, and unintentionally, embarrassing me.<br />
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This whole process of scanning something wrong, and needing the team member to make the light stop blinking happens about 50% of the time.<br />
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I hate the market.Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6403953391547321956.post-85314514153565723582014-12-26T20:36:00.002-08:002014-12-29T11:08:13.228-08:00Reason #1 I don't like the marketI hate going to the market.<br />
Here is one reason why:<br />
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I HATE when people look for something on the opposite shelf from where they push their cart, effectively BLOCKING THE WHOLE AISLE.<br />
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This I do not like.Mae Dreamlesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06683678168456775371noreply@blogger.com0