labelleizzy: (Default)
Having this broken hand , has been a whole exercise in how to put up with doing things imperfectly. (she says as she edits the post)

Dictation at the moment, speech-to-text, it's one of the accommodations I started using pretty early on in the healing process after breaking the base of my pinky and top off of my radius my right hand , on New Year's Eve. Doing things imperfectly doesn't come easy to me. More prone to refusing to try to do something. I'm more likely to give up easy after trying to do something if it doesn't come easy. One positive thing for me about the ADHD: learning that that's a trait! it's a thing about the way that this kind of brain works.

But actually I was swimming (wtf? not even close to what I said) to post about this today because had a lovely visit with Allison and Fritz , including a delicious dinner, a seriously delicious dinner. But something about walking into their house today for some reason gave me an insight into something new that I needed to do for my hand? I suddenly flashed on there was a new place to try to massage and stretch that I hadn't tried before.

Maybe this has to do somehow with Alison being a massage therapist but anyway I found some incredibly painful and Incredibly needed places in between my fingers to massage right at the point where the fingers' flesh joins each other to become the hand and had a breakthrough! (sudden breakup/breakdown of incredibly tight fascia according to Alison.)

I woke up a little while ago or half woke up cuz it's quarter to 5 in the morning right now, full moon is still out and shining through the bedroom window, I woke myself up massaging my hand again and doing Hand Therapy again. It feels different now, than it did yesterday because of the work I was figuring out how to do today and then Allison worked on my hand a little bit too which also helped and she had a heating kind of massage oil which seems to be very effective so high hopes for the flexibility in the healing of my hand and arm to maybe we've turned up what do they call it maybe I've turned a corner? I think that's the right turn of phrase so I just wanted to get up, empty my brain for a minute, and I'm going to have to edit this later because speech to text never works perfectly.

Hopefully I'll be able to go get some more sleep now. And forgive all the weird word choices from this very very stream of consciousness post. And wish me well with my hand? Suddenly feeling much less angra vated (wtf speech to text that's not even a word?) AGGRAVATED with it and the long long time it has been taking to heal.

thanks for listening.
labelleizzy: (Default)
[personal profile] hitchhiker:
March 17 at 12:14pm ·
I've always felt there should be a better term than "hallmark holiday" to describe the mainstream commercialisation of holidays like St. Patrick's Day and Cinco de Mayo that have actual significance to a group of people. [personal profile] labelleizzy just came up with the wonderful "plastic holiday", which describes the phenomenon to a T.

7 You, [personal profile] aelfie, [profile] wuukiee and 4 others


R A: I have to think about this. I'd prefer a term that more clearly underlines the way that crass commercialism has co-opted what had originally been a genuine celebration or remembrance.
Like · Reply · 1 · March 17 at 12:17pm

M E H: Hmmn. I have only heard the term Hallmark Holiday used to refer to things like Valentines Day or Mother's Day.
Like · Reply · 1 · March 17 at 12:54pm

[personal profile] hitchhiker: yes, precisely, which is why I was reluctant to use it for this. it's a different problem and should not be conflated
Like · Reply · March 17 at 1:46pm

[profile] wuukiee: Mardi Gras, too
Unlike · Reply · 2 · March 17 at 1:03pm

[personal profile] labelleizzy: My dad used Hallmark holidays to refer to Valentine's day, mother's day and father's day, all of those.
We didn't grow up in any faith system, so holidays always felt like going through meaningless motions. I've had anger at how St Patrick's​ has been advertised and made commercial, also Cinco de Mayo. They're not real cultural celebration, they're not authentic, they're plastic, fake, not nourishing.

Like · Reply · 2 · March 17 at 1:05pm
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
I woke up this morning to sweet cuddles and caresses from a warm sleepy husband. Nothing more than cuddles this time, as he read his newspaper with one hand and ran the other absent mindedly over my head. I felt like a cat in a lap, warm and contented and loved. When he rose to wash up, I worked on my morning stretches. It feels so good to move the body, the First Home, to have it respond so sweetly to my requests. Bodies are wonderful, they soak up the sunlight and warmth, they feel the touch of loved ones, they can work, kiss, write, interpret for the brain. Bodies are the filters through which we experience pleasure, all the pleasures. Sex and food and running and tickling, laughter and back scratches and massage, intoxication of love or of good wine. I am in good health, able to accomplish what I set out to do of a day without more than slight pains or discomfort. Doing pretty well for a middle-aged woman whose favorite activities are writing, gardening, and cooking.
I am thankful for my body.

When I finished my stretches and my morning meditation, my husband had begun preparing breakfast. I always boil a pot of black tea for myself, as he doesn’t care for it. We had crepes with ham and cheese and apple, and a dash of maple syrup. Then he got on the computer to book hotel reservations and make other arrangements for our upcoming trip, and then we worked together on preparing the Thanksgiving duck. Last night he was working for hours, between research on a project for our house, fine tuning a home improvement project (this required a skill saw that lets him cut a tidy hole in the wall for a new electrical outlet). Before that, he had been supervising the final stages of some work being done in our yard.
I am thankful for my husband.

My life is very abundant. The loving husband and friends and chosen family and biological family are all blessings to me. Though I have never carried to term, I am a beloved auntie and sister-mom to many children, I have worked in schools with many children, I have loved many children. I am surrounded by friends who seek my company. I am surrounded by people who speak and write to me with supportive and kind words, who encourage my artistic endeavors, who inspire me with how they work and play and strive to build a better world.
I am thankful for my community, and the connections within it.

My home is colorful and comfortable. We have quilts on the beds, clothes in the closets, warm curtains against the chill. We have an outdoor space that is green and lovely, with water and earth and space to grow food. We have a kitchen and a living room with space to entertain comfortably, and food enough in the pantry and refrigerator to feed people we like and love. Our soft and lazy felines nap in the sunshine, on our laps, atop stereo speakers and under the kitchen table. They love us, rub against us, talk to us, chide us when the food is late or the box unscooped, and their antics continue to make us laugh down the years.
I am thankful for our lovely house, and for our sweet cats.

Recently I have been writing very prolifically. The ideas and images have been flowing easily to my pen and my screen, and releasing them and arranging them has been giving me great joy. For many years now, I seek the printed word for comfort, whether reading them or writing them. I feel like I am hitting “the zone”, as runners do, as other artists do. The words are friendly and flirty and I handle them comfortably, even when they zip and zing and burn, even when they are as cold and mean as dry ice.
I am so very thankful for the words and for my muse, and for the privilege of crafting with words.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
Hera and Zeus in establishing conversation: digression, deflection, bragging, outright lying and misdirection, condescension and patronization…

“Oh, sweetie?” Zeus said from behind his newspaper.
“Yes dear?” Hera replied, in a syrupy sweet tone, not missing an iota of nuance.
“I thought the boys and I might go up to Lake Tahoe this weekend, do a bit of skiing and drinking. Did we have anything on the family schedule?”
Hera is irritated. “Why didn’t you check with your personal assistant? who is it this week, Brad? or Carmen? You know that Iris always makes sure to update and sync our calendars. Everything is already on there, you just have to LOOK.” … you moron, goes unsaid but clear in her tone of voice.
He lowers a corner of his newspaper and winks at her. “But sweetie, you KNOW I always trust Iris to keep the calendars pristine/complete/professional/whatever/elephant. She’s an absolute PRO.” He smiles, so close to sincere that someone who hadn’t been married to him for 25 years might even believe him. “I was just wondering if you had anything that hadn’t made it into the calendar yet, or if any of the kids had called and wanted to come over. I would change my plans if any of the kids had made plans to come out?”
Hera barely restrains her eyeroll, maintaining eye contact and elevating one eyebrow slightly. “But DARLING,” she said with only the barest hint of sarcasm, “I do KNOW how much you adore visits from our progeny. I would definitely let you know if any of them had plans to come say hello.”
She tossed her napkin into the middle of her plate, and gestured for Gerardo to come clear the table. “Feel free to have fun playing with Cy and Des. Y’all don’t stay up too late, and drink your water before passing out tomorrow night, okay?” Genuinely irritated now, She rises and stalks over to the crystal vase of lilies and irises on the sideboard, rearranging blooms and pinching off browned petals, collecting them (the petals) in her hand. “I’ll see you when you get back, then. Drop me a text when you have an ETA.”
Glancing back at her obliviously smug husband, she slipped out the doorway before any of the servants could see the frustrated tears fall.

38873 words as of today.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
Plot bunny: Artemis and her dogs.
Artemis ruffles the soft ears of the long legged dog panting between her feet. Her keen eyes scan the … (trees in the forest, could have bookend scenes beginning similarly at different points in the story) … house for the inevitable evidence of dog scuffles and minor misbehaviours. she nods and smiles, as Gwen rolls over for belly rubs. The house gnomes are not striking yet, the house looks tidy still. Gwen smiles up, tongue lolling out, as Artemis’s long fingers groom through her coat, pulling a few loose leaves and twigs from their last ramble through the fields. Artemis wonders why Arthur has not put in an appearance, as usually he is not willing (does not hesitate) to forego (demand) his share of any human attention.

She sniffs the air. Deliciousness is in the air, a right and proper British lamb stew in the making. Her one extravagance, a live-in housekeeper. She grins. Otherwise, as she knows well, the house will be a mess (in spite of the gnomes’ best efforts!) and she would be eating a lot of plain fruit, granola, cheese, crackers, and beef jerky. *grimace* She remembers her “bachelor phase” quite well and has no desire to go back to that way of living.

It’s a simple house, her house. Small and neat, with a rambling back yard and kennels along the side, attached to the garage. The puppies are born in birthing boxes in the garage, and once they are old enough to wean, join the pile of dogs in the kennel, until they are trained up properly as hunting and guide dogs. There is always a demand for guide dogs. There is always a demand for hunting dogs. Artemis loves both kinds of training, and her babies only go to clients who have been thoroughly vetted and interviewed and who will treat them as the treasures they are. Family members, but family members trained to help with specific and necessary tasks to make a person’s life BETTER.

Standing, after one last rub to the soft belly under her hand and a soft grip on one silky ear, she walks into the kitchen and greets Mrs. (elephant elephant need a fairy housekeeper name) with a grin and theatrical sniffing of the air. Gwen has followed Artemis into the kitchen, where Arthur has decided to rule today from under the kitchen table. His doggy-face splits in a grin and he scrambles up to jump up on her legs while she laughs and scruffles his ears and scruffs his neck, pulling his smile even wider as he tries to lick her face and she denies him, pushing his nose to the side so he can not get a good lick in. “Dammit dog, it’s a good thing nobody ever comes here to adopt puppies. Nobody would believe that our puppies have any damn training at all after seeing YOU at your worst!” But of course she’s not mad, she’s still laughing, he’s still jumping and trying to love on her the best way he knows how, and the housekeeper has her arms crossed over her apron and is laughing at all of them, even Gwen who is sitting in Good Dog Pose by the doorway, with a panting, smiling face.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
MAUNDER: to mumble; to wander slowly and idly. (Can this apply to how slowly I've been drinking my tea this morning?)

Cy walks slowly along the waterfront, patting his niece’s hand where it is tucked up in the crook of his elbow. So good to have her here with him, they get along so well, essentially solitary people whose business it is to work with groups and survive the elements… Artemis is such a lovely person. She smiles up at him, and leans playfully against him as they approach a lamppost. “Whoa!” he protests. “Have not got my land legs back yet, apparently!” as he bumps her shoulder with his ribcage. She’s so tiny compared to him but she has absolutely no fear in her. And she’s tough like madrone roots, tough like her hiking boots. And yet, she’s not the littlest bit bitter. (what would she have to be bitter about? elephant elephant) They grin at one another as they walk into their favorite bar and get their favorite table. The barmaid slaps two coasters down and confirms: Coffee porter for him, habanero cider for her. When the drinks arrive, they toast and clink: “To family, chosen and blood.” They always toast to the same thing.
labelleizzy: (bunny writer)
Uncle Cy understands about her dad. They went to college together and apparently dad was even a bigger jerk with poor impulse control, in his youth. Oy. it is pretty damn bad now, she has difficulty imagining her dad being even MORE immature.

Cy says he’ll meet her at the visitor’s center for the park. it is a pleasant drive up into the Santa Cruz mountains, and a lovely walk from the parking lot into the park. He wraps a rough arm around her shoulders, his heavy canvas coat scraping against her wool jacket. He’s the only relative that treats her like this, like they can rough house a bit and they won’t “mess her up”. she knows she takes after her mother in wanting to look put together and tidy… most of the time. But Athena loves spending time with Cy. He treats her like an adult (why her father and mother can’t understand how to do that she does not know) but doesn’t shy away from hugs, physical affection, hair tousling, that kind of thing. He can also tell, without her saying a thing, when she’s too fragile or upset to play that way. And when she is, he makes sure to treat her more gently, though he doesn’t refrain from touching her, like her siblings do.

it is nice. it is nice to have at least ONE family member she can rely on for hugs and blunt, honest conversation.

They walk, an arm around each other, into the smooth and well manicured park beneath the towering redwood trees. it is a beautiful day, and the needles and leaves underfoot smell sharp and clean. The air has a tang of autumn in it. It catches at the back of her throat when she breathes in deeply. And here, unlike at work or at home, she wants to breathe in deeply. It smells so good. She can distinguish sun warmed crushed pine needles, and the bitter green scent of bay laurel and eucalyptus mixed. A slight floral note comes, she expects, from the small patch of flowers over there in the sunbeam. She doesn’t know what kind of flower it is. Corey would know. Her cousin knows all about the local and imported flowers. Anything that grows in California, Corey knows everything possible it is to know. At least that’s how it seems to Athena. She shrugs beneath her uncle’s arm, and he shakes her lightly.

“you lost in your own head again, there?” She looks up at him with a wry smile. He pats her shoulder with the hand that’s wrapped around her. “you might as well be HERE while you’re here, you know. It is more fun that way.” His tanned and weathered face bends towards her as he drops a kiss on top of her head. there is NOBODY else who does that to her. She loves it. As a tall woman since adolescence, meeting a man taller than her has been a rarity her whole life. A man taller than her who loves and hugs her and kisses her atop her head? rarer than hen’s teeth.

She hugs him sideways and leans her head briefly against his shoulder. “Thanks, Cy. Thanks for dragging me out of the city and getting me out of my own head and everything.” She heaves a sigh, shaking her head slightly. “My dad is being a jerk again and I just needed to get away for the afternoon.” She smiles down at the path as they continue walking. “I am glad you were free for lunch.”

“Anything for my favorite niece, you know that.” The proud smile shows up in his voice, even (when she can’t see his face) with her not looking at him. She darts a smiling glance upward. “I know you say that to my sisters too… but I am okay with us all being your favorite.”

Cy laughs suddenly and loudly. “It is true, you are all my favorites. And I love when you all, or any of you, come to visit. We’ll have to have a family sail before I put the boat in drydock for the winter storms.”

He shakes her gently again, as they start up a slight slope in the path, illuminated by the bright beams slanting through the tall trees. “I am sorry Zee is being a jerk again. I wish I could say he’d get over it, but after many years of experience with his charming and crappy attitude, I’ve come to the conclusion that what’s needed is a giant fish slap upside the head.” Athena snorts involuntarily with laughter as Cy continues. “Kind of like in that superhero movie recently. A cognitive recalibration, they called it.’ Athena flat out giggles. “I am giggling.” she says, holding her hand self consciously in front of her mouth. “You’re the only one who makes me laugh like this.”

“Probably helps that I am one of the few, the proud, the stupid, who continue to be friends with your dad despite his jackassery. I get what you’re going through because I’ve been there too.” He releases her shoulder with a final squeeze to step up high onto the next part of the trail. When he extends his hand to help her up, she takes it and lets him give her a tug. She doesn’t NEED the help, and she doesn’t get huffy with him the way she might have done with any other man… but she appreciates the gesture, coming from him. They stand for a moment to catch their breath and take in the view of the river below.

“Look, Kid.” And who else would call her, a 40 year old attorney practicing international law, a kid? She looks up at him, his hands in his pockets. “You know this, I’ve said it before. You need to live your own life. Your dad has his own stuff to take care of, and to be honest? Your mom does too. They both could stand to have some serious conversations and hash out some of the ancient stuff that’s just continuing the patterns that got established in the very beginning.” He shakes his head and stares out over the river gorge. “None of that nonsense is your fault OR your problem, even if Zee tries to make it so. Maybe you want to spend more time with your friends or your other family, if Zee is making life awkward for you.”
He cocks his head, considering, as he looks back down at her... “Girl, when is the last time you had a REAL vacation?” She looks up at him, wide gray eyes wary. “Don’t give me that, answer the question. Have you had more than a weekend off work in the last two years? Have you turned your cell phone off for more than a night (once it gets charged)? Ever refuse to answer it when your dad or your mom phones you up?” Her guilty glance sideways tells him what he needs to know. “Right then. It is October now. You book yourself a week off, and you go alone or you take a friend with you, and you go someplace new, someplace you’ve never been.” She looks up with that sharp assessing glance he knows she uses on fellow lawyers and board members. “Someplace you’ve always wanted to see. Tokyo or Kyoto, or Moscow, or Anchorage, the boating is superb up there. (He grins.) Boston in the fall maybe. Go shopping in Paris and eat baguettes and coffee for breakfast. Go visit Prague and study architecture for a week. Whatever.”
“It is time you do something for YOU, not for Zee.” His face quirks into a half-smile in profile as he looks away again.
“It is also time that he realizes how valuable you are to him, and how fucked he would be without you covering his ass all the time.” She joins him in a smile, though hers is shyer than his. “Your PA can handle your email and phones while you go. there is nothing huge on your schedule right now, which is probably part of why Zee is being such an ass right now. There;s no crisis for him to get high on, you know your daddy loves him some DRAMA.” She giggles again. “See there (it) she is.there is my smiling girl.” He turns and puts both hands on her shoulders, stepping down the trail till they are eye to eye. “you. you are amazing at what you do. You are competent beyond belief. You put on your armor and pick up your briefcase and you go into battle for him. But all warriors need rest at the end of the battle. And you? You have been working nonstop for entirely too long. We worry about you.” He moves his hands to her cheeks and places a kiss on her forehead. He holds her face a moment, looking into her large clear beautiful eyes.

“let’s hike back, have some lunch, and talk about what you might want to do next.”

She exhales and bumps her forehead into his sternum as she leans forward into his hug. His arms wrap around her and his hands rub her back in long, firm strokes.
She speaks quietly. “I am so damn TIRED, Uncle Cy.” She breathes in the salt and tar and wool smells of him as she leans her cheek on his chest.

“I know, girl, I know.” they stand in silence for a few moments as the sun warms their coats on one side and the shade chills their flesh on the other.

“Let’s get you out of town awhile. Maybe you can go teach that weaving class you started up a few years ago. Get your hands busy and get out of your head.” She raises her head quickly, and he smiles. “or,” he continues, “you could come crew the boat for me for a week? I promise you’d be too tired at the end of the day to worry, fret, or even think.” She raises one eyebrow. “Good point. I remember doing that with the sibs when we were kids, it was the best sleep I ever had, a night on your boat after working on it all day. The sea would rock us all to sleep in those hammocks you had.”

“All right then. Food, plans, let’s grab your sibs and the cousins and start planning a sail. And you start dreaming on where you want to fly away to. You deserve it.”
Athena straightens up, sighing and nodding. “I need it. You’re right.”

They pick their way back down the path, arm in arm, heading back towards the (guest) center visitors center. “I admit,” she says, “that I am NOT looking forward to telling Dad that I am taking a vacation.”

“So don’t tell him,” says Cy. “You’re a woman grown, and the head of your department. You’ve good people working for you, competent people. Let them handle it awhile. It will be FINE.”

She nods, already lost in her head and dreaming of a week of freedom to do what SHE wants to do, see, experience, and try for the first time. They walk the rest of the way in a silence broken only by birdsong and the sound of the water below.


Jun. 6th, 2014 05:15 pm
labelleizzy: (forward momentum)
why is it painful to let go of unhelpful words?
perhaps these were once upon a time, protectors,
the words bookworm, nerd, gimp, weakling.
the belief that if it was hard, I wasn't meant to do it...
if I were meant to do it, t'would come naturally, surely?

i can't seem to get my glasses clean
to see my own Self in the mirror
to understand my own wingspan
or the extent of my reach
or how far I can leap

hamstrung by my blindness
the persistence of memory
self image of pale, soft, weak, fearful
but there is so much more to me
than what I used to be

Am I strong? Yes. Am I smart? Yes.
Am I capable? Yes. Am I flexible? Yes.
Am I kind? Yes.
Am I soft?

*smile* Yes, I am soft.
Soft like a pillow at naptime, and comfortable.
Soft like silk sheets, and strong like them too.

Am I brave?
Could I write were I still fearful?
Yes, ... but I wouldn't show my heart, were I still fearful.

I don't deal in trivialities.
I want the blood, and the bone, and the sweat,
I want the gritted teeth and the grunts of effort.

I step beyond old useless protectors.
I make myself stronger from the inside
I stand strong

I do not need the deflections of nerd, gimp, weakling.

I see the world as it is and as I would have it
and I reach out my hands
to begin shaping the world
A strong, kind, smart, compassionate world

and my strong hands
will shape it


Jul. 27th, 2009 05:04 pm
labelleizzy: (Default)
[ profile] kineticphoenix gave me words.

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labelleizzy: (politics)
Via Rafael Jesus Gonzalez, whose mailing list I am on:

"George Lakoff argues that the Republican choice of Palin makes total sense if you truly understand the strategy of the Republicans in this election. Lakoff is the author of The Political Mind: Why You Can't Understand 20th Century Politics With an 18th Century Brain (2008) and Don't Think of an Elephant: Know your Values and Frame the Debate (2004)

The Palin Choice
The Reality of the Political Mind

by George Lakoff

This election matters because of realities-the realities of global warming, the economy, the Middle East, nuclear proliferation, civil liberties, species extinction, poverty here and around the world, and on and on. Such realities are what make this election so very crucial, and how to deal with them is the substance of the Democratic platform <> .direct link to PDF on HuffingtonPost website linked below.

Election campaigns matter because who gets elected can change reality. But election campaigns are primarily about the realities of voters' minds, which depend on how the candidates and the external realities are cognitively framed. They can be framed honestly or deceptively, effectively or clumsily. And they are always framed from the perspective of a worldview.

The Obama campaign has learned this. The Republicans have long known it, and the choice of Sarah Palin as their Vice-Presidential candidate reflects their expert understanding of the political mind and political marketing. Democrats who simply belittle the Palin choice are courting disaster. It must be t aken with the utmost seriousness.

The Democratic responses so far reflect external realities: she is inexperienced, knowing little or nothing about foreign policy or national issues; she is really an anti-feminist, wanting the government to enter women's lives to block abortion, but not wanting the government to guarantee equal pay for equal work, or provide adequate child health coverage, or child care, or early childhood education; she shills for the oil and gas industry on drilling; she denies the scientific truths of global warming and evolution; she misuses her political authority; she opposes sex education and her daughter is pregnant; and, rather than being a maverick, she is on the whole a radical right-wing ideologue.

All true, so far as we can tell.

But such truths may nonetheless be largely irrelevant to this campaign. That is the lesson Democrats must learn. They must learn the reality of the political mind.
(emphasis mine)

Here's why I'm worried...(rest of the article)

Heads up, [ profile] zpdiduda, [ profile] ef2p, [ profile] joedecker, [ profile] ozarque and others who grok language, persuasion, and politics...

Scares the HELL out of me that we might not GET a chance to make a real change. If the Dems lose because we can't frame the debate so it captures the minds and hearts of the AmPublic, well. It's a worry [ profile] ozarque has expressed on multiple occasions. I agree - politics IS perception, but I don't have enough background to know what to do next, other than point as many people as I can, toward this very well-written explanation of the current landscape.

Go, read. Talk about it. Get INVOLVED...

New Meme!

Jul. 24th, 2008 01:09 pm
labelleizzy: (calvin play naked)
I just thought of this last night...

Ask me for a letter of the alphabet.
I will give you a letter.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take that letter and try to build an alliterative sentence (that actually makes sense) with as few non-alliterative words as possible.

bonus points for no non-alliterative words in your sentence,
double-plus bonus points if you can make it a double entendre or dirty in some fashion:
to wit:

"Anne and Amy always allow Albert and Andrew alternative anal access."
(for a score of 26. Hee!)


Go on, you know you want to!

(open post. Please give me credit for the idea, kthanks!)
labelleizzy: (inclusive)
Survey on Jewish Language that you don't have to be Jewish to do! (thanks to [ profile] cyan_blue for the link!)

(but, I'm looking at you, [ profile] fools_and_irish, I think you'll have fun with this one.)

If you're not Jewish, never practiced the religion etc, the survey is much shorter. Took me about 10 minutes, and it was fun, especially for a language-whore like myself.


labelleizzy: (Default)

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