This was posted on a ‘second hand finds’ Facebook page…
…only to be followed by this amazing message.
The roller coaster ride started.
With a happy ending…
…and a sweet poem to finish.
Sweet Seals For You, Always
RMH
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost

izzy's playlists!

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DEAR READER
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JBB: An Artblog!

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tannertan36
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@cobrilee
This was posted on a ‘second hand finds’ Facebook page…
…only to be followed by this amazing message.
The roller coaster ride started.
With a happy ending…
…and a sweet poem to finish.
idk man when i was a kid i remember a lot of adults saying "if you can read and follow directions, you can cook" so i was like yes i can do these two things. doesn't seem that hard. and it wasn't! so it just always surprises me when i see people of any age who are capable of reading and following directions bemoaning how impossibly hard cooking is. like i know i'm always on this hobbyhorse but it just seems like a lot of people have never developed basic life skills and instead of going "oh wow that's embarrassing, i should learn and catch up" they instead get defensive and turn it into a learned-helplessness thing where they CAN'T POSSIBLY be expected to learn something that's SOOOO HARD. and suddenly somehow we're the oppressors for thinking it's weird that a grown adult can't grill themselves a cheese.
You are 60% water and every lake, river, pond, swamp, creek, and ocean you encounter wants to reclaim it desperately. Be careful out there.
Good, I hope it haunts everyone about to enter a body of water so bad that they wear a life jacket. 🙌
Every single person I knew (past tense) who has drowned was "a strong swimmer." Water in the wild does not care how good you are at swimming.
I mean this with all due respect:
You are not going to pass a skillcheck against a rip current once it has you.
Waves will not bow to your physical prowess no matter how impressive.
Shock does not care that you used to be on your school swim team.
If you hit your head, being good at swimming isn't going to turn you face-up while you're unconscious.
You may be unable to return to shore. Rescue may be unable to find you quickly.
Scheduling this for when weather starts warming up. Be careful swimming this summer
Nah one straw is no problem bro. I'm the strongest camel ever, I'm carrying like TEN THOUSAND straw right now. If I can handle ten thousand straw then what's one straw gonna do? Stands to reason. Just chuck it on bro, it'll be fine.
By Talos this can't be happening
endlessly frustrating that whenever anyone is like 'i wish i could find a type of exercise i enjoy' swarms of people are always like 'clearly you have not tried the type of exercise *I* enjoy!' I'm there like no I have. it sucked.
my high school offered a pretty diverse range of Sports in PE so i have tried out a bunch of them. i did not enjoy them and was bad at literally all of them.
i also took some martial arts in school and hated it. i took it up only bcos my best friend was doing it and at all times was like 'i wish i was spending my lunchbreak doing Anything Else'. i was also bad at it.
before anyone is like 'well you don't have to be good at an activity to enjoy it-' yes you do. sorry. when it comes to Sports if you are bad enough at it, you simply do not get to access the fun part. for example: me and my best friend used to 'play tennis' together in PE lessons but we were both extremely bad at tennis so we would just take it in turns to serve the ball at each other over and over bcos neither of us could hit it back. this was not fun.
i did a lot of musical theatre extra curriculars including dance as a teen and this was probably the one i enjoyed the most but once you hit a certain age there is an Expectation that you will want to get good at it. i was not a good dancer and struggled a lot with memorising the routines. this was not fun. it is not fun doing an activity you are bad at while surrounded by people who are better at it than you.
i have had very mixed experiences with swimming bcos obviously as a child it was fun to like. play in a pool but school swimming lessons were deeply unpleasant. it is the one i would most like to take it up again but 1) there is just a tremendous amount of faff involved 2) it requires you to be in a state of Undress around a bunch of strangers and i don't want to do that.
essentially i think a major disconnect happening here is that not everyone experiences the Exercise Dopamine to the same extent? i don't feel good after exerting myself. i am just like well that sucked the whole time and i felt bad afterwards.
IRIS VAN HERPEN Couture Fall/Winter 2026 if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways
Oregon Surf
Was talking to a coworker today who explained that her grandfather was like Snow White “but Californian. And an old man.” in that the creatures of the forest would follow him around and presumably duet with him.
“When he died the ravens sat in the trees outside for a week, watching. Taking turns. A horde of raccoons tried to break into the house every night, tearing at the siding. Eventually they gave up, but it was unsettling.”
“Aww. They were checking on him!” I said, like a normal person. Internally, I thought “Maybe you could do the thing you do with dead pets, where you show them to the living pets so the living pet understands they’re gone. But I guess if you did that to a bunch of scavenging species, they’d be like “Well, that’s very sad but he IS food now.” So what you’d need, for human sensibilities, is some sort of transparent corpse barrier. Like a see-through coffin oh that’s what the dwarves were doing! You’ve stopped paying attention to this conversation about the loss of a beloved family member you gotta phase back in.”
oh that's what the dwarves were doing
this is literally the only tweet that ever matters
actually this bangs im taking this out of the tags
wedgie saying that he and kenzie need each other in an interview
“Bro where u at we not supposed to be in heree”
always hilarious the lengths mammal moms will go to to retrieve a nearly-grown child from a situation of their own making. get back here
truly an honor and a privilege getting to witness everyone's first time in public ever every single time i go grocery shopping
I wrote a eulogy
"I wrote a eulogy for my best friend last week. Then I read it to him. At the pub. On a Tuesday."
He was alive, holding a pint, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I'm Mick. I'm 70. The man across the table was Barry. Seventy-two. Best mate for 46 years. Met on a building site in 1979. He dropped a plank on my foot. I called him something unrepeatable. He bought me a pint after the shift. Haven't gone a week without talking since.
Three months ago we went to a funeral. Bloke we'd worked with. Cancer. The eulogies were beautiful - people saying what he meant to them, things they'd clearly never said to his face. And all I could think was, he can't hear any of this.
Every beautiful sentence. Every "he changed my life." Said to a room of crying people and a box of wood.
I turned to Barry. Whispered, "What a waste."
Drove home. Couldn't sleep. Because I realised, if Barry died tomorrow, I'd stand up and say extraordinary things about this man. Things I've never said in 46 years. And he'd be in the box, missing all of it.
So I wrote them down. Took a week. Harder than expected - not finding the words, but admitting I had them.
Rang him. "Tuesday. The Crown. Need to read you something."
"Have you joined a book club?"
"Just come."
Same corner table. Pint of bitter. Crisps. I pulled out the paper. He saw my hands shake.
"Mick. What's this?"
"Your eulogy. I'm reading it now because I'm not wasting it on a day you can't hear it."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Probably. Shut up and listen."
I read it. In a pub. To a man very much alive and very much uncomfortable.
I told him about the plank and how it was the best injury of my life. About the night he drove forty minutes in rain to help change a tyre. About how he rang every day for three months after my divorce and never once asked "Are you alright?" - just talked about football and weather, because he knew I didn't need a question. I needed a voice.
I told him he was the funniest man I'd ever known and his jokes were terrible and both things were true. That he'd been a better father than he thinks. That his wife's a saint and he knows it. That I'd have been a worse man without him.
He didn't look at me. Stared at his pint. Jaw tight. Doing that thing men do when the feelings arrive and they'd rather swallow glass than show it.
When I finished, long silence. Then he picked up his pint, took a sip, and said,
"You're paying for the next round. And the one after."
That was his answer. Perfect. Because Barry doesn't say "I love you too." He says "you're buying."
But in the car park, he hugged me. Not the quick back-pat. A real one. Thirty seconds. Neither let go first.
And he said quietly into my shoulder, "Don't read that again at the real one. I want new material."
Who would you write a eulogy for - while they're still here?
Don't wait. The flowers can't hear. The box doesn't laugh. Say it now. At the pub. Over a bad cup of tea. You'll feel ridiculous.
They'll look uncomfortable. It'll be the most important thing you've ever done.
Read them the speech while they can still hug you in the car park.”
.