Saturday, June 15, 2013

Are They ALL Yours?

I know this won't be news to almost anyone who reads this blog regularly, but for those who don't know, I have a lot of kids, and by a lot I mean a boatload.  I have my own basketball team.  Well technically, WE have our own basketball team, but more on that in a bit.  Indeed when walking down the grocery aisle my five boys look like an invading army, marching single file behind the grocery cart, except on the occasions that they look more like a swarm of invading locust, hungrily grabbing at anything and everything and putting it in the grocery cart.........yeah, hungry teen and pret-teen boy sized locust......that about sums them up.

Anyone who has a large family knows that there are certain questions you are bound to be asked whenever you go ANYWHERE as a family. As I'm tired of answering these same questions over and over and over and over and.....well you get the point, I have decided to answer everyone's question once and for all right here.  Then when I am asked any of the questions, I'll hand the questioner my business card, with a link to this blog or maybe I 'll have it printed on T-shirts and make all the boys where them whenever we leave the house.  Yeah, that will go over REALLY well with my boys. ;)

Question #1: Are they ALL yours?
No, I just go around collecting wayward children off the side of the road and bring them to Walmart for kicks.  Yes, they are ALL mine.  If you question my honesty on this, just hang around for another 3.5 seconds and two, if not three, of them will be calling "M-OM!" for some reason or another.

Question #2: You do know how this happens don't you? Also phrased: Should I buy you a TV and DVD player so you have something else to keep you entertained?
Judging by our success rate, I say we are well acquainted with the how and why of it all.  It is also apparent we are experts at entertaining ourselves but thanks for asking.

Question #3: Are you having anymore? Also phrased in our particular case: Are you gonna try for that girl?
Coming from a complete stranger, in line at the grocery store, I find this one of the more rude and intrusive questions.  It brings out my smarty pants side (sorry, Mom.You did train me better) Am I planning to have anymore, what? Sex, why yes I am.  Oh you meant, kids? Oh, I don't know.  I thought we might try for an even dozen.  What about you? Are you planning to have anymore kids? If so when?  Why? Oh you find these questions rude.  I'm so sorry, I wouldn't want to intrude.
For the record, we aren't having anymore but that really isn't the point now is it?

Question #4: How many loads of laundry do you do?
A lot.

Question #5: Do they all have the same Dad?
No, I'm like a black widow; I always eat my mate after we procreate.  Even my twins have different fathers.   Really, do I interview you in the checkout line about your children's paternity?   I give extra jerk points to people who ask me this in front of my kids.  For the record, yes all my boys do have the same father, not that this is anyone's business but ours.  Sheesh!

Question #6: Are you Catholic?  Are you Mormon?
No, we aren't.

Question #7: How do you afford all the kids? Are you on welfare?
We are blessed and my husband has a good job.  No, I'm not on welfare. Again, how is this  ANY OF YOUR  BUSINESS?!?  
.
Question #8: This one is asked to my husband by other men:  Are they yours?
I find it reassuring that other men, complete strangers mind you, have no problem insinuating that I may be a skank to my husband. I have already answered this, but obviously it needs to be said again: YES, THEY ARE ALL HIS!

They are ALL his.  They are ALL mine.  They are ALL ours and we wouldn't trade any of them for anything in the world, even when they resemble a swarm of hungry locust.


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Go Southwest Young Skiffs- A miraculous journey from there to here part 2

When I was a young girl, we lived at the top of a mountain in West Virginia.  We were far away from city lights or street lamps.  In fact the only light at night was this big security lamp my great grandmother (who lived next door to us) had mounted on a pole.  For fun, the family would sit outside and watch an owl swoop down after his prey, exciting, I know!  When that bright light was turned off, you had an amazing display of stars but on nights that were overcast, where you couldn't see the stars , the night was so dark that you could almost reach out and touch the darkness.  They say that you can only truly appreciate the light after you've experienced this kind of palpable darkness.  I can attest to the truth of this.

I left our story off at the darkest of dark times in our lives.  I had reached the very bottom of my soul and put out a fleece before God.  "Prove yourself to me.  I don't care how but do something that I know only you can do."  This was almost four years after we moved to Virginia.  In the next six months things went from worse to desperate.  We could not afford the house we lived in the suburbs so we moved into a sketchy part of Richmond (something I swore I would never do), I was working and running the kids to all their different schools and daycare centers. We stayed away from home as much as possible.   The school the kids were in was so poor that they didn't even have books.  We had lived less than fifteen miles away, for four years, and every student had a laptop provided by the school but here the kids didn't even have books.  It was a very eye opening experience, to see first hand the inequity of our education system. 
After we had been there about four months, the kids got a 24 hour bug.  They all bounced back quickly except for Sam.  He just got sicker and sicker.  I was bringing him to the doctor every other day.  He was sent to the ER twice and then admitted to the hospital.  They couldn't figure out why he was so sick.  His oxygen levels kept dropping.  The second night he was in the hospital the machines all started beeping, I shook him and couldn't wake him up.  The nurses came running in with a crash cart. I was praying and trying frantically to get him to wake up.  Finally, after the doctor and nurses worked on him for a while, Sam woke up.  The next day they discovered Sam had pneumonia, two ear infections and his globulin E levels were off the charts.  The doctor advised us to move away from Richmond.  Sam had a severe allergy to mold and mildew which is everywhere in Richmond, which was originally a swamp that was drained to build the city.  This allergy caused him to develop asthma. 
A week after Sam was released from the hospital, I came home to find out the landlords had lost the house to the bank.  We had to move out with 60 days.  That very same day Usarian came home with an announcement, his employer had "promoted" him to a salaried position.  That sounds amazing but in truth it was a $15,000 pay cut because much of his pay was based on overtime.  We were already not making it, we could not take a pay cut.  Within two weeks we found ourselves in the position of  needing a new job, with a child who needed us to move from the area and soon to be homeless. Talk about stress!!
Usarian put in his resume everywhere.  He had companies expressing interest from Washington state to Washington DC.  He did interview after interview, and even flew down to Houston for an interview (the job itself was in Dallas).  They assured him the job was his so he put in his two weeks notice at work.  We rented a little U-Haul trailer and determined to take whatever would fit.  As we were packing, he heard back from the company, they had hired someone else.  Now we had to make a choice.  We had already put money down on a house to rent in TX but now we had no job waiting for us.  Should we go in faith, leaning on the word God had spoken to my heart years ago, 1,300 miles from any family or friends? Should we stay, move in with my parents and try to find something in the area, where we had family support?  It was an agonizing decision to make.  After much prayer, we decided to go. 
We left with almost nothing.  We brought a washer and dryer, one bed, our kitchen table (no chairs, we couldn't fit them), the kids toys, clothes, a TV, our family pictures, and some of the most important kitchen items.  That was all we could take. We drove for three days and had to stay in a hotel for the first few days after we arrived, waiting for the house.  I remember when I walked into the house for the first time, I cried.  It was beautiful and perfect for our family; 2,700 square feet, four bedrooms, in a wonderful neighborhood.  I prayed the day we moved in "God, we have enough money to get through two weeks.  Usarian needs a job by Monday."  Two days after my prayer, his recruiter called him with an interview on Thursday, at a private bank.  The recruiter warned him that they were slow to make up their minds, so he probably wouldn't hear from them for a while.  Friday evening, ten minutes before five, he received a call, telling him he was hired.  He would start Monday, at three times the salary he made in Virginia!! 
We went from nearly destitute and homeless to a huge house, in a wonderful neighborhood, making well above any salary we had dared to dream of, in one step.  That doesn't just happen.  That was God.
God had heard my desperate cry and proved himself above and beyond anything I had ever imagined.  Every time I soak in the huge garden tub, in our master bedroom, I am reminded about our journey here, a journey fraught with heartache and peril, an amazing, miraculous journey, that took us halfway across the country,  and I am so very grateful.
My friend, I don't know if you are at a place of total desperation, where there looks to be no way out of a hopeless situation. I don't know if you are at a place where you desperately need a break through, where nothing short of a miracle will make a difference.  I do know that if you cry out to God, if you lay yourself bare before Him in all your brokenness, pain and anger, He WILL be faithful to answer you.  It may not be when or how you expect it, it was six months after my prayer that I saw God move, but He WILL move.  Take heart, He has not abandoned or forsaken you.  

Monday, June 10, 2013

Go Southwest Young Skiffs- A miraculous journey from there to here part 1

One of my very favorite things to do after a stressful day is to take a nice long soak in my garden tub.  I pour in bath salts, run the water as hot as I possibly can, fill it as high as I can and soak until my fingers and toes resemble raisins left in the sun too long and the water has long since cooled.  Tonight was a night I needed a long soak.  As I lay staring at the small water stain on the ceiling, a reminder of the time a storm blew the shingles off of a large portion of our roof a few springs ago, I was hit by wave of gratitude.  You see, laying there soaking in that huge tub, was a special gift from God to me, a prayer answered, a promise fulfilled.  This is a story of God's incredible patience, love and blessing in our life.  This is a true life adventure story, that spans ten years and 1,300 miles. This is the story of our move to Texas.

My husband and I met at a small Bible school in Western New York.  My husband was from the area, so after our wedding it was natural for us to settle there.  We settled in, bought a house, and had our first four children.  Then the sky fell in.  To make a very long story somewhat brief, I fell down an entire flight of stairs when I was 25 weeks pregnant with our twins.  I was holding Sam, who had just turned 1 a week and a half before.  Miraculously, Sam came away with nary a scratch.  I, crushed my elbow and spent the remainder of my pregnancy in and out of the hospital, mostly in.  This long hospital stay coupled with my husband having to be on unpaid leave for the entire time (we had no one to care for Paul and Sam while I was in the hospital) left us pretty much destitute after it was all said and done.  We were a young couple, starting out (only married four years) so we didn't have anything to fall back on.  We did a short sale on our house. Then we moved to Virginia to start fresh, drawn by the promise of a better economy and the plethora of family I had there, who could help me with four babies, aged three and under.
The day we moved into our house, as my brothers and husband were unloading the moving truck, I said to my husband "The next place we are moving is Texas."  He looked at me like I was a bit crazy and asked in typical Usarian fashion "So should I load everything back onto the truck?"  I shook my head and said "I just have a feeling I shouldn't get too comfortable here.  We will only be here about five years."  I really think God had spoken to my heart because otherwise there would have been no prying me away from all my family that surrounded us in Virginia.

Our four and a half years in Virginia were the hardest of our marriage.  I was home alone, with five babies (we had Benny while there), while my husband worked seventy hours a week.  We were so broke we could not afford heating oil, so we heated our house with a wood stove.  Two of our boys were diagnosed on the autistic spectrum during this time.  My aunt, who was more like a sister to me because we were so close in age (we even shared a bedroom for a time), died after an excruciating fight with cancer.  My extended family was facing some huge challenges and our marriage was a complete disaster.  I became furious with God.  I could not accept that the God that I had spent my life serving in ministry and personally, could just stand by and watch our lives blow up.  What was his problem?!?  People tried to give me the typical Christianese answers "God works everything for good for those who love him and are called according to his purposes." "God won't give you more than you can bear" (that one isn't even in scripture) "You know God must have mighty plans for you." "We live in a fallen world" All of these answers just made me even madder.  I remember saying to a family member "I think God is a sadist."
 One night, as I was rocking a screaming Jamie in one arm (he had night terrors at the time.  He would wake up and run screaming throughout the house) and was giving Benny a bottle in the other, I turned on the TV. The only channel that had anything on at 2 am was PBS.  The program playing was a round table discussion with all the major religions represented by notable figures within each belief system. The moderator was posing different theological questions to each of them.  The question he happened to be asking when I turned on the show was posed to the man representing Christianity.  I don't remember his name but his response to the question posed changed my life forever.  The moderator asked him "If your God is real and all powerful, why do terrible tragedies plague the world?"  Honestly, I rolled my eyes, expecting him to quote the same scripture I already new backwards and forwards and give the same answers I myself had given a million times.
 Instead he began telling the story of C.S. Lewis and his wife.  Lewis married late and life and deeply loved his wife. She died not long after they were married from bone cancer.  Lewis wrote in A Grief Observed  "Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolation of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand. The conclusion is not "So there's no God, after all" but "So this is what God is really like, the Cosmic Sadist. The spiteful imbecile?"  
My ears perked up at this point.  C.S Lewis, one of the giants of the faith, was basically saying what I had just said a few short days before. 
The man answering the moderator said  "Many people say this was a crisis of faith for Lewis, but I say it takes incredible faith to stand before the Almighty God and be completely honest with what you are feeling and thinking."  I had tears flowing unheeded down my cheeks and I cried out to God in all my grief, anger and brokenness "God, I don't care how you do it but I need you to prove yourself to me. I'm tired of all the Christian excuses.  Yes, we live in a fallen world, but if you are God and you are bigger than that.  The truth is you could have stepped into any one of the situations and changed it.  But you didn't.  I want to believe in your goodness, I want to believe in your power but right now I need you to show me.  I need to see you are all the You say You are."  
I had been a devoted Christian for 25 years.  I had gone to Bible school, been in ministry, done all I knew to do to be faithful.  Yet, despite all of that, this was the defining moment of my faith, this was me at my very rawest before God.
I am going to stop here, in my darkest night.  I promise the second half of this story is nothing short of miraculous but in order to appreciate where we are now you have to know where we came from.  I pray if any of you are in your own darkest night, you will be encouraged.  I don't have the answers you need but God does.  Don't be afraid to be honest with Him.  You are in my prayers-Kristine

Monday, May 13, 2013

The Anchor and the Kite

My husband has often described our very different natures like this "Kristine is like an anchor, sunk in the bottom of the Marianas Trench, buried deep and sunk in concrete.  I (Hubby) am a kite whose string is tied to that anchor.  I can blow whichever way the winds blow me but once I come to the end of my string, I ain't moving that anchor."
It is a good mental image of both our personalities.  I am not a follower or a joiner. I don't jump on every passing bandwagon.  I can lead but I don't have a need to.  I am very much like a barnacle crusted anchor, at the bottom of the sea; a solid, solitary fixture that is unmoved by the changing of the tides or the swells of the storm.   Many passing ships tie themselves to my crown when the storms of life are swirling viciously around them.  I don't mind, it's what I'm there for.
The kite, however, is unlike all the ships that come through needing the temporary stability the anchor provides.  Those ships untie and move on to other ports and destinations once the storms pass.  I don't mind at all.  I am always happy to see the exciting places the ships end up.  The kite however stays tied to the anchor.  The kite wants the anchor to come out of the trench every once in a while and fly to new places and experiences; to share the kites joy at all the cool new things he can see from his view way up high, to weep with, not just for the kite, when storms come and lightning strikes.  This is the brokenness I brought into our relationship.  This is the way my husband has had to accommodate me through the years.  
The very quality that makes me a bastion in a storm, is the same quality that makes me solitary, independent and intractable at times.   
I have written extensively on how Asperger's has affected our marriage.  You can read all about it here http://www.glimpsesofskiff.com/2011/08/so-i-married-aspie.html, and here http://www.glimpsesofskiff.com/2011/08/so-i-married-aspie-part-deux.html, and here http://www.glimpsesofskiff.com/2011/09/so-i-married-aspie-part-3.html, and here http://www.glimpsesofskiff.com/2011/09/so-i-married-as-aspie-part-cuatro.html.  Yes, it is a four parter. Yes, of course, it is wonderful, fantastic and worth every precious moment you'll spend reading it.  You'll laugh, you'll cry, it'll move you ;) (okay blatant self promotion now over;)
I have not written about how independent nature has affected our marriage.  Independent is really too mild a word for it.  Honestly, I don't know how to need someone.  Please don't read that wrong.  I know how to love people, I am a fabulous friend because I will be there with you through thick and thin and I really will love doing it. However, I honestly have no idea how to depend on someone when the storms of life come my way.  In a marriage this is a real problem.  Marriage is two lives becoming one, two hearts becoming intertwined, two people mutually dependent on each other, supporting and loving one another through it all.  What happens when one person has no idea how to accept support from the other? It is devastating to the relationship.
 I learned early on in my life to be strong.  I learned early on how to carry others and be responsible.  I learned early on how to continue to stand through turmoil.  I never learned how to lean on someone else, I never learned to just trust.  These are the lessons I am struggling to learn now.  This is my newest journey.  This anchor needs to learn how to fly a little.



Thursday, March 21, 2013

In My Weakness

In January of this year, my good friend Dee and I were on the phone discussing our plans and "feelings" about what was to come in this coming year of 2013.  I remember telling her that I had an intuition that this was going to be a hard year for me.  I felt strongly that this was the year that God was going to do some deep heart work on me.  Dee and I have been friends for seventeen years (yikes! I'm getting old, Dee of course has not aged a day;) She is one of the few people on this planet who really KNOWS me.  She has walked through the most joyful moments of my life with me.  Conversely she has walked through the darkest, most difficult times too.  When I made my announcement about heart work she wisely said "Girl, I'm gonna be praying for you!"  Like I said, she KNOWS me.

Fast forward to March 2013. You may have noticed a lack of blogging on my part lately.  In truth, it has been intentional.  That journey of heart work has begun, serious changes are happening.  Normally, this would have me on blog overload but the truth is I have felt unable to talk about this stuff.  It is dark and painful and just plain hard.  I finally feel able to talk about some of the changes I have made.  I am opening up because I don't think I am the only woman out there who struggles with these things.  I refuse to let shame bury my light.  Shame, anger and depression thrive in darkness, they force you into silence and isolation.  That isolation creates more shame, anger and depression.  It is a vicious, ugly cycle.  It is a cycle I will not allow in my life.  
Most people read my blog and feel like I have been very open about my life.  I have written about our early marriage troubles, past abuse, unforgiveness, even about my suicide attempt as a teenager. All of that is the absolute truth but I have only written in the past tense, refusing to acknowledge the cumulative effect all that crap was having on my daily, every day life.  I said to myself, "I've dealt with all of this.  It is done and over.  I've forgiven.  I'm strong.  I'm a Christian and all I need to get through is Jesus." along with many other platitudes to convince myself that I didn't need any help.  The truth is, I am not alright.  The truth is I am too prideful to be seen as weak and vulnerable.  The truth is, I need help.
This all became abundantly clear when I realized I was terrified (not just a bit uncomfortable or a little scared but for real terrified) to lose weight.  Through out all my life, I would lose to a certain point but as soon as people began noticing me, I would gain all I had lost and more back.  I never realized what I was doing.  It was unconscious.  However the Dr started pushing for me to have weight loss surgery and I was running out of excuses for lasting change in my life.  Finally it hit me:  I was freaking scared.  REALLY scared.  So I put on my big girl panties and admitted I needed help.  I put myself in therapy.  For real, cost a lot of money, therapy.  The kind I inwardly scoffed at as only needed by weak people, people who couldn't just buck up and deal with life.
I admit it, I am weak.  I cannot handle everything on my own anymore.  I need help.  II Corinthians 12:9 says: And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. It is my prayer that as I walk out this year people will begin to see Christ strong in me, instead of me pretending to be strong on my own.
I know there are other women out there like me, who have been blown around and beaten down by the storms of life.  I know there are others who are too ashamed, prideful or frightened to ask for help.   Friends, I encourage you that you are not alone.  You need not walk alone any longer.  Reach out to someone trustworthy, someone who will pray with you and stand with you, someone who will encourage you to get the help you need.  Someone who will encourage you to become weak so that Christ may be strong in you.  That is my prayer.
What this means for this blog, I'm not sure yet.  I will write as I am able and as I am freed to do so.  I know this goes against everything they tell you to do to have a successful blog.  However, at this point in my life I feel it is more important that I be genuine than that I am successful.  I love each of you very much and will continue to pray God's best in your lives.  I look forward with great anticipation to see what God has in store for Skiffdom and am equally excited to share it with you as it unfolds.  Lots of love-Kristine

Friday, February 8, 2013

My Bro Joe

I come from a family of ten; eight kids, two parents and more pets throughout the years than I can count or even remember.  These pets include but are not limited to a cat named Heidi (who it turned out was a male cat, even though the vet swore he was a she), an exploding hamster, a tragically fated chick that thought I was its mother (until our dog got a hankering for chicken wings and ate it),  a guinea pig that was best friends with the transgender cat, a shopping dog (for real she would slip her collar and go wandering around all the shops downtown.  The shop owners more than once brought her back to us once she maxed out the credit card;)....the list goes on and on.  Yeah, we had a really full and crazy life.

I am the oldest of all the siblings, this of course meant I had all kinds of fun bossing the rest of the underlings (ummm I mean sweet, wonderful siblings of mine) around.  I was the twisted sister who wrote and directed plays.  My brothers and sisters were the unwilling stars of said productions.  They were masterpieces, I'm sure you'll be hearing of one on Broadway soon (didn't I mention I made them all sing too?;)  My idea of a good time, was pretending to be their teacher and forcing them to do actual school work. I had tons of fun and they were better educated for my effort (patting myself on the back).  Then, there was the time my sister, Jennifer, cracked her head open on our door jam while dancing.  My siblings love to tell how I "comforted" them by reading them everything Encyclopedia Britannica had to say about head injuries.  What can I say, I was just awesome that way.
My parents were more than a bit crunchy when I was little.  They made their own tofu, we did the all natural thing way before it was popular, we were home schooled for a while and my mom birthed the first five of us at home ( yeah majorly granola, loveyoumeanit Mom and Dad).  I especially remember the birth of my brother Joe because I was there for it.  
Joe was a beautiful baby, with great big brown eyes and straight, blond hair.  From birth on, Joe had all the ladies wrapped around his little finger;)  Joe is the fourth child in our little family of eight but he is the oldest boy.  That's right, my parents were smart and had all three girls straight off the bat.  Joe made an excellent living doll for us;)  However, Joe wasn't having any of that! He put in an order for some more brothers,ASAP! And boy did he get his wish, four more boys, one by one, entered our world (and I wouldn't trade a single one of them).  
Joe, like the rest of us, is all grown up now.  He has grown into a man of character, faith and integrity   He married his high school sweetheart, Stephanie, who is the perfect wife for him.  I love her to death :)  They have three beautiful babies of their own: Elijah, Abigail and Asher.  Today my brother Joe is graduating from the MD State Police Academy.  I am so very proud of him for his accomplishment but I am more proud of him and Stephanie for their journey to get here.  It wasn't easy and they both made big sacrifices, and that is only the part that I know.  I am sure there is more that I don't know about.  Yet, they held on to the dream, their faith and each other and made it through. 
I can't be there in person to hug them and wish them the very best in this next phase of their lives, so I am doing the next best thing. Congratulations Joe and Stephanie!!!  

Friday, February 1, 2013

My Fundraising Policy

  I feel it coming in my bones, the same way arthritic joints feel the coming of a storm, and I start to prepare myself.  Once it hits, it hits hard and hangs around for almost a month.  But I am strong, it has not defeated me yet.  I anchor fast my checkbook, tether my debit card to my wallet and wait.  Then it hits with a fury, five boys come barreling into the house waving big packets, feverishly talking over each other, their  darting eyes glassy ,as if they have been drugged. It is here, Fundraiser Season.


I refuse to participate in school /extra curricular fundraisers.   I know this makes me a terrible, uninvolved parent but as a good friend of mine says, sorry I have a policy on this.  Today I will give you the top five reasons that I will not sell crap or solicit pledges or jump through flaming hoops.

1) I have five children.  That means all my friends and relatives are getting hit up not once, not twice, not three or four times, but FIVE times.  This crosses the line from manipulative fundraising to racketeering.  I'm not willing to risk a conviction under RICO.

2) After every fundraiser pep rally, I have to deprogram my children, like they were in a cult.  They come home looking like they are on crack, raving about the free TV, or new bike, or million dollars they are going to "win" if they only sell $12,000 dollars worth of crap or get 150 pledges or jump rope 6,500 times.  After all, these are totally achievable goals for your average eight year old.  Ri-ight.

3) I did not send my children to school to be turned into Flim-Flam-Men.  I will support my boys in whatever legit career they so choose.  Hitting up friends and relatives for money are the skills needed to be jobless and living in mom's basement, playing video games, at 25 years old.  Since I don't have a basement, my boys are in need of a different skills set.

4) I will not be manipulated or guilt-ed into anything.  These fundraising programs work by manipulating children with unachievable prizes and loud rhetoric and/or guilting parents into spending time and money they don't necessarily have.   Let's be honest here, it isn't the kids that are doing most of the "work" involved in raising this support.  They can't sell at school and it is dangerous for them to go door to door.  This is just a way to rope mom or dad into becoming a biannual sales rep without having to pay them.

5) I do believe in supporting things that I feel are important.  If you want my support just ask me and
I will write you a check.  This saves us all a whole lot of frustration.




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