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Why I love I have been behind on birthdays. Waaaaaay behind. Like the entire gargantuan section of my flist who were born in September? I did bupkis. (That's a useful Yiddish word that doesn't mean navel or buttocks, even though it sounds like it should.) Today is <lj user="innerslytherin">'s birthday. I discovered last year that she and I are about a decade apart, which blew me away because her writing often strikes me as so mature and rich. She's written some of my favorite Snape/Lupin stories, the kind that drew me to fandom in the first place. Before I started writing in 2005, she had written Regions of Kindness, this tremendous story using a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. Then there is <a href=http://innerslytherin.livejournal.c She's also a warm and kind person. Well, you know, and we really shouldn't go into detail about the mental constructs we develop about our flisters--the way their various posts have helped us to an impression of their nobility and good heartedness. You probably all think that about <lj user="innerslytherin"> anyway, since she has that nifty combination of being somewhat idealistic and somewhat down-to-earth with the nature photos and midwestern accent. I'm not so good at the birthday greetings, eh? It's like a dissertation around here. With me it's either one single rushed, but utterly guilt-laden sentence or endless babbling. Anyway, happy birthday, and please accept another <a href=http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/23022-F Post a comment in response: |
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