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bear by san

March 2017



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bear by san


Time to go read Terry again.

Ths time he's on about choice.


There are times I think you my greatest fan. Certainly the most diligent I get to see in telling people to read me.

Now to organise my thoughts on the subject of threatening judges.

*g* you absolve me of the need to politblog, because every time I find myself getting riled, you beat me to it, and more intelligently than I would have managed.

So I may, in fact, be your greatest fan.

I don't comment as much on those, but I love the foodie posts too. and the recent one involving cattle grates curled my horseback-riding toes.
Why does this not surprise me? Terry knows Bear. Bear knows Terry. Small world.

Someone else pointed her to me, and so it goes.

Fandom is small, Fairedom is small.

If you want you can read the war post I never managed to deliver to you (the addy bounced) in my memories.

Small internet. *g*
And here I think I am often late to the party, because I no longer take a daily paper (I used to read two and a half) and so the net is my source of news and I am more on the order of one who explodes when enough links, bit and pieces hit critical mass. I tend to assume people are all reading as widely of the web as I am.

Then I see people getting upset about things I read weeks earlier (or in some cases months).

I'm flattered you think I say thing well, even better, because I look at those I like to read and think I am lacking in polish and fervor.

The foodie is stuff is written for me, mostly, in the hopes of feedback on cooking and ego-boo.

I was amused, and amazed that the camping story sank with nary a sign of anyone having read it. It was interesting to see how the various members of the regular riding group reacted. I was calm, to the point of coldness; detached. Maia was fevered, Pat was a tad dithery and Sola panicked, so much so that I felt the need to comfort her, some 20 minutes later.

I was while still astride, almost resigned to the probability of having to put one of the babies down, and with nought more than decent cutlery.

It was an enlightening afternoon, the like of which I hope never to relive, and thankfully non-tragic.

My reaction to the camping story was very much eee, eee, eee. I wound up not commenting because I didn't think my panicked teeth-gritting noises would be helpful. *g*

Sometimes, I think that the stuff that gets the strongest reaction gets the least comment, unless it's of the "me too!" or "no way!" variety.

You know, there's just nothing you can say exacpt, good god, so thankful you all made it through okay. And that seems so inadequate.

People's adrenaline reactions are *very* interesting. I get very efficient during the crisis, and then later on or the next day I decompensate.