I know this is a topic I talk about pretty much constantly. But I have yet to blog about it! And in light of recent events, I feel this is relevant and a great excuse to share my personal experiences. Besides, it's throwback Thursday!! What better way to acknowledge that than with a little good old-fashioned story time?
"...for I know the joys and discomforts of agricultural life and hold an inborn fondness for those associations which, even in hours of discouragement, I cannot deny." - E.M. Tiffany
As many of my faithful readers (assuming these exist...) will note, this is an excerpt from the FFA Creed. This statement has come to mean a lot to me over the course of my involvement in the FFA. It's about loving what you do even when it isn't easy - even when it breaks your heart. Even when you've been wearing the same high heels for 12 hours, you can't feel your toes, and if you have to tuck the tallywhacker on your jacket back in ONE MORE TIME, you're gonna rip it off. But you don't have to ask yourself why you signed up for this. You never have to ask yourself why you're here. The answer is obvious; we love what we do.
With that established, the discomforts of our lives, not only as members of the FFA, but as members of the human race, can be challenging. I can personally attest to this. This will be my third year showing pigs (not quite the tenure of some of my peers, I know, but rest assured that I have enough heart and dedication to make up for all the years I missed out). It has always been my dream to breed my own show pigs. The first year I showed pigs, I was ecstatic to work with the animals and with my dad's experience, I was confident that I would have a great year. What I didn't know was how hard it is to control an animal - every bit as stubborn as I am - with a stick. But with minimal usage of invectives and a lot of persistence, I became the alpha pig. I exercised my pigs thirty minutes a day, sometimes twice a day. Rain, shine, tornado - it didn't matter, I was out there. My pigs and I had a bond that transcended the usual "I'll name you bacon because I hate you and I know you'll end up in the freezer" attitude that kids sometimes adopt toward their projects. We were best buds.
After our chapter show, my breeder came out to evaluate my animals' progress. I'll never forget the way I felt when he told me that my pigs had a virus called PPLO that caused fluid build-up in their hocks. They were essentially crippled. I could feel the tears coming on. I tried a brave smile, but it was useless. I was heartbroken. I had aspirations of breeding my gilt. My barrow was on schedule to go to a major show. All my hard work seemed for naught - I probably wouldn't even be able to show at my county youth show. Most of all, I felt utterly helpless because the virus is notorious for being next to impossible to treat.
But instead of accepting fate, giving up on my endeavor, and pretending it never happened, I buckled down. I kept exercising my pigs to ensure they stayed limber. I switched them to a feed without a high protein content that would be easier on their joints, and attempted treatment. Failure was not an option. I remained hopeful, and told myself that I wasn't giving up on my dream, I was merely reacting to the hand I had been dealt. I would have another chance to breed. In the end, I was able to take my gilt to the county show and placed. I have never been happier to see an eighth place ribbon in my entire life. It wasn't about winning. I loved spending time with my animals, and I learned more about myself and my ability to work with them than I have in probably most of my life.
My second year of showing was a repeat performance. I had the same rotten luck, met with the same dogged determination, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't sure I would have the heart to try showing again. But I finally accomplished my dream, though not in the way I expected. As of Monday morning, there are eight piglets and one proud sow in my backyard. The sow was my sister's show pig, and our first successful breeding endeavor. This one shining moment in my experiences raising swine has more than made up for my perceived "failures". Whether is was foolishness or faith that kept me going down a path that seemed to lead to nowhere, I'm glad I was able to remember my love for the animals, my dream, and my inimitable capacity to try for the sake of trying prevailed.
Even in my hours of discouragement, I could not have been happier to work hard at work worth doing.
- Shelbs
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Dog Talk
My apologies in advance if you expect me to post any amazing recipes or song lyrics on this blog. It will never happen. For one thing, I view cooking as a last resort survival tactic and don't particularly enjoy it. Secondly, people are very picky about their music and I don't have the varied knowledge of my friend W, who is the ultimate hipster. Speaking of W (or as we scholars like to refer to him, Dubs), he also has a blog, and we're undertaking this Thursday posting thing together. Check out www.whtlander.blogspot.com today for a new post!!
Back on topic! I will tell you this: I always listen to music while I write anything, especially this blog, and even I am attempting to learn how to cook. Why? Because I will not eat ramen noodles and macaroni in college. Another thing you should know: my brain is utterly fried from perfecting college essays this week, and if this post is a tad lackluster, you can blame TAMU and TTU.
Today I want to talk about my favorite subject in the entire world: dogs. I have decided to address a few things that, quite frankly, really make me irate. DISCLAIMER: this post is based on my own observation and experience. I don't claim to be an expert, just very well-versed on this topic from a lifetime of loving dogs (and watching Cesar Milan on Dog Whisperer).
If you've read my Simple Curiosity post, you know that dogs have always been an integral part of my life. They're the truest friends, willing listeners, and the only creatures on earth that love you more than you love yourself. Agriculturally speaking, they are indispensable and unparalleled in their skill at working livestock, proving themselves man's best friend time and again.
We all love stories like Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Marley & Me. We expect our dogs to have that kind of undying loyalty. We expect our relationship with our dogs to be effortless and rewarding. But what some people can't seem to understand is that it does take effort. Forming that magic bond with your animal starts before you even bring him/her home. You must make an informed decision, and I cannot stress that enough. That doesn't mean you must decide on the cutest breed or a size that's convenient for your lifestyle. You have to go beyond that and consider temperment, grooming, and medical needs. The most expensive dog is not necessarily the healthiest or the best suited for you and these are all things you have to be aware of.
It frustrates me to no end when first-time dog owners or owners who are not necessarily willing or able to invest the time choose a high-energy or highly intelligent breed such as a border collie or a terrier. You can't stick these dogs in a pen in your backyard or a kennel in your apartment. These dogs will need stimulation, an outlet for their energy, and will not function or be happy without it. Throwing a tennis ball a couple of times in the backyard is not going to cut it. You might actually have to dig out a leash and collar and take a few laps around the block. And not every now and then, but several times a week if you really want to do your dog justice.
And if you want to be able to walk your dog down the street or through the park without them pulling your arm out of its socket or embarrassing you, this will also take effort. It's not magic, but you do have to be very pesistant and unwilling to settle for less than the appropriate behavior. This is especially difficult with terrier breeds, as they are headstrong and without a strong-willed, experienced handler, can be exasperating to train for all that they are incredibly smart. Laboradors are another breed that can be challenging to train, simply because they are so goofy and are essentially puppies until they're 3 or 4 years old. You wonder why they chew up your stuff? Because, though they are extremely popular and make great family dogs, they are not meant to hang out in the house all day. They're retrievers. They love to work. And even if you're not a big bird hunter, exercise and providing them with some kind of stimulation is imperative.
The last thing I want to address is the tendency to pick the purebred toy breeds such as chihuahuas, yorkshire terriers, and shih-tzus. Yeah, they're cute. Yeah, they're pretty portable. Yeah, they make great lap dogs, if you're into that. But you can't bring home the adorable pint-sized puppy, put down some newspapers, and expect the poor thing to figure it out. First of all, if you plan on keeping the dog primarily in the house, you have to curb behavior such as incessant barking, rushing the door when people come in, and jumping on the furniture uninvited. If the dog runs the house, there's something wrong. Also, be aware that if you don't appropriately discipline these dogs, they can get out of control. There's nothing more annoying or embarrassing than an ankle-biter when you have people over. And that's part of the fun of having a great, balanced, well-behaved dog - showing 'em off!
This is my best friend - Australian shepherd mix, Tuff. ♥
To wrap up this half-blog-post, half-vent-session, I will simply say that if you're in the market for a new best friend, the best place to start is your local animal shelter. Doesn't have to be the humane society. Your city or county animal control is also a great place to consider. Don't hit the local paper right off the bat, looking for a breeder near you. Give the mutts a chance. It's a great feeling to save a life.
- Shelbs
Back on topic! I will tell you this: I always listen to music while I write anything, especially this blog, and even I am attempting to learn how to cook. Why? Because I will not eat ramen noodles and macaroni in college. Another thing you should know: my brain is utterly fried from perfecting college essays this week, and if this post is a tad lackluster, you can blame TAMU and TTU.
Today I want to talk about my favorite subject in the entire world: dogs. I have decided to address a few things that, quite frankly, really make me irate. DISCLAIMER: this post is based on my own observation and experience. I don't claim to be an expert, just very well-versed on this topic from a lifetime of loving dogs (and watching Cesar Milan on Dog Whisperer).
If you've read my Simple Curiosity post, you know that dogs have always been an integral part of my life. They're the truest friends, willing listeners, and the only creatures on earth that love you more than you love yourself. Agriculturally speaking, they are indispensable and unparalleled in their skill at working livestock, proving themselves man's best friend time and again.
We all love stories like Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, and Marley & Me. We expect our dogs to have that kind of undying loyalty. We expect our relationship with our dogs to be effortless and rewarding. But what some people can't seem to understand is that it does take effort. Forming that magic bond with your animal starts before you even bring him/her home. You must make an informed decision, and I cannot stress that enough. That doesn't mean you must decide on the cutest breed or a size that's convenient for your lifestyle. You have to go beyond that and consider temperment, grooming, and medical needs. The most expensive dog is not necessarily the healthiest or the best suited for you and these are all things you have to be aware of.
It frustrates me to no end when first-time dog owners or owners who are not necessarily willing or able to invest the time choose a high-energy or highly intelligent breed such as a border collie or a terrier. You can't stick these dogs in a pen in your backyard or a kennel in your apartment. These dogs will need stimulation, an outlet for their energy, and will not function or be happy without it. Throwing a tennis ball a couple of times in the backyard is not going to cut it. You might actually have to dig out a leash and collar and take a few laps around the block. And not every now and then, but several times a week if you really want to do your dog justice.
And if you want to be able to walk your dog down the street or through the park without them pulling your arm out of its socket or embarrassing you, this will also take effort. It's not magic, but you do have to be very pesistant and unwilling to settle for less than the appropriate behavior. This is especially difficult with terrier breeds, as they are headstrong and without a strong-willed, experienced handler, can be exasperating to train for all that they are incredibly smart. Laboradors are another breed that can be challenging to train, simply because they are so goofy and are essentially puppies until they're 3 or 4 years old. You wonder why they chew up your stuff? Because, though they are extremely popular and make great family dogs, they are not meant to hang out in the house all day. They're retrievers. They love to work. And even if you're not a big bird hunter, exercise and providing them with some kind of stimulation is imperative.
The last thing I want to address is the tendency to pick the purebred toy breeds such as chihuahuas, yorkshire terriers, and shih-tzus. Yeah, they're cute. Yeah, they're pretty portable. Yeah, they make great lap dogs, if you're into that. But you can't bring home the adorable pint-sized puppy, put down some newspapers, and expect the poor thing to figure it out. First of all, if you plan on keeping the dog primarily in the house, you have to curb behavior such as incessant barking, rushing the door when people come in, and jumping on the furniture uninvited. If the dog runs the house, there's something wrong. Also, be aware that if you don't appropriately discipline these dogs, they can get out of control. There's nothing more annoying or embarrassing than an ankle-biter when you have people over. And that's part of the fun of having a great, balanced, well-behaved dog - showing 'em off!
This is my best friend - Australian shepherd mix, Tuff. ♥
- Shelbs
Thursday, August 16, 2012
My Version of "Organized"
I guess there's just something about Thursdays. During the school year, they are always my "chill nights", when I don't really have anything going and I can regroup, adjust focus, and recharge before the weekend. Unless something drastic happens to change that, I will designate Thursdays as my blogging day. I feel like there should be an awesome name for it, but let's face it, no good adjectives start with TH. Thoughtful. Thrilling. Thug. Yeah, those aren't going to work. In any case - I will do my best to put out new posts on Thursdays. That's pretty convenient for everyone - watch Jenna Marbles on Wednesday, read about the life of Shelbs on Thursday. Life is good.
Today I want to keep it short and sweet - strictly business. I want to discuss organization. As the school year approaches, we like to purchase cutesy, flowery planners, the kind with the motivational quotes printed along the top of each page, and we swear on our lives to keep up with these planners. For the first two weeks of school - maybe even into September - we'll whip those babies out during class and write down EVERYTHING, every homework assignment, every club activity, every practice. But as the year progresses, the effort of hunting for the planner, finding the correct day, and scrawling down some ambiguous note about an assignment is no longer appealing. The bloom is off the rose. The meticulous dividers in our binders - notes, quizzes, reviews, tests, essays - become little more than pieces of plastic taking up space. And instead of carefully organizing a folder for each subject, we shove the papers into our backpacks (hey, everything is in chronological order, I'll totally be able to find it later).
I'm guilty of this because I like to think I function well in "organized chaos". It does not exist. Don't let anyone tell you that's acceptable. With a little extra effort, a little daily maintenance, you can be as organized as the people who have color-coded schedules and hour-by-hour agendas. That is not acceptable either. If you spend an inordinate amount of time obsessing over organization, you're defeating the purpose. Organization is meant to help you save time and work efficiently because you can easily access important information. Don't over do it.
To illustrate an efficient, appropriate way to maintain organization, I have, in the spirit of organization, made a short list of tips.
1. Get dates as far in advance as possible and commit them to your agenda. If you are part of a club, obtain meeting dates and times. If you know you are going to a conference, save the date. If you're going to a competition, set some deadlines leading up to the event!
2. Invest in some sticky notes. Everyday tasks like picking up dry cleaning or walking the dog don't have to go in your planner. Stick em around the house where you'll see them and be amazed that you don't have to ask yourself "why did I come into this room?" anymore. (They're also great for inspiration. The cheesier the better. Ex: "YOU ARE A WINNER!" Seeing that every day = instant boost. You're welcome.)
3. If you have siblings who are also very active, get a family calendar. Put it on the fridge where everyone will see it and have each family member write their commitments in a different color. There's the household agenda at a glance!
4. Purchase one flash drive and save important documents on it. Instead of searching through files at school, home, and on your email, keep it all together. This is great for things you will use often such as your resume or a professional headshot. This is also great for ongoing projects like essays or school presentations.
These are all things I personally do that seem to keep me on track. You don't need an intricate routine to function on a daily basis. Find the balance that works best for you, make it a habit to check your cutesy, flowery planner, keep it updated, and get some work done!
Shelbs
Today I want to keep it short and sweet - strictly business. I want to discuss organization. As the school year approaches, we like to purchase cutesy, flowery planners, the kind with the motivational quotes printed along the top of each page, and we swear on our lives to keep up with these planners. For the first two weeks of school - maybe even into September - we'll whip those babies out during class and write down EVERYTHING, every homework assignment, every club activity, every practice. But as the year progresses, the effort of hunting for the planner, finding the correct day, and scrawling down some ambiguous note about an assignment is no longer appealing. The bloom is off the rose. The meticulous dividers in our binders - notes, quizzes, reviews, tests, essays - become little more than pieces of plastic taking up space. And instead of carefully organizing a folder for each subject, we shove the papers into our backpacks (hey, everything is in chronological order, I'll totally be able to find it later).
I'm guilty of this because I like to think I function well in "organized chaos". It does not exist. Don't let anyone tell you that's acceptable. With a little extra effort, a little daily maintenance, you can be as organized as the people who have color-coded schedules and hour-by-hour agendas. That is not acceptable either. If you spend an inordinate amount of time obsessing over organization, you're defeating the purpose. Organization is meant to help you save time and work efficiently because you can easily access important information. Don't over do it.
To illustrate an efficient, appropriate way to maintain organization, I have, in the spirit of organization, made a short list of tips.
1. Get dates as far in advance as possible and commit them to your agenda. If you are part of a club, obtain meeting dates and times. If you know you are going to a conference, save the date. If you're going to a competition, set some deadlines leading up to the event!
2. Invest in some sticky notes. Everyday tasks like picking up dry cleaning or walking the dog don't have to go in your planner. Stick em around the house where you'll see them and be amazed that you don't have to ask yourself "why did I come into this room?" anymore. (They're also great for inspiration. The cheesier the better. Ex: "YOU ARE A WINNER!" Seeing that every day = instant boost. You're welcome.)
3. If you have siblings who are also very active, get a family calendar. Put it on the fridge where everyone will see it and have each family member write their commitments in a different color. There's the household agenda at a glance!
4. Purchase one flash drive and save important documents on it. Instead of searching through files at school, home, and on your email, keep it all together. This is great for things you will use often such as your resume or a professional headshot. This is also great for ongoing projects like essays or school presentations.
These are all things I personally do that seem to keep me on track. You don't need an intricate routine to function on a daily basis. Find the balance that works best for you, make it a habit to check your cutesy, flowery planner, keep it updated, and get some work done!
Shelbs
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Life Isn't Always Simple
All right, I've been introductory, I've tried motivational, now I want to get a little personal to give anyone who may keep up me an idea of what it's like to be Shelbs. It always makes me laugh when people put "it's complicated" as their relationship status on Facebook. As if they expected any meaningful endeavor to be easy... It occured to me today that naming my blog "Simply Shelbs" is incredibly ironic. Because, to be honest (ha, more facebook cliches!!), my whole life is "complicated". I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way. Life in general, the ENTIRE natural world, tends toward chaos and chaos does have a habit of complicating things. And when I say "complicated", I'm not talking your typical mindless teenage drama. I don't mean to be sanctimonious, but I have absolutely no time for that. For one, senior year in itself is going to be tricky. To give you an idea, I'm writing this post as an excuse to get away from college essays I've already put off for a week - which is a little uncharacteristic, because procrastination is not in my vocabulary.
I'd like to illustrate this with a little STORY TIME!! I just returned from spending the past couple of days at the beach with my mom, little sister, and her best friend. As we're driving home, although three of us have iPhones, fully equipped with GPS and Google Maps, mom realizes she has noooo idea where we're going. Through Rockport? Up to Sinton? Who knows? Why we didn't address this sooner, the world may never know. So we pull out the map - the prehistoric kind that's flat and printed on paper - and after a few minutes of staring at the spiderweb of colored lines and numbers, we locate the correct route and hit the road again. Some miles later, the car starts to STINK like nobody's business. There were some suggestions thrown out there as to what exactly could be causing the stench - excrement, compost... Whatever it was, it was awful. Amid the panic about the smell, we missed a turn and ended up passing a prison where we could see the inmates playing basketball outside, which launched a whole discussion about THAT. When we finally stopped to eat at a Dairy Queen, we discovered it was a piece of driftwood my older sister had insisted on bringing home. She wasn't even in the car!! She came down to the beach for a few days - just long enough to find the stupid stick - and then instructed us to bring it home so she could stain it and use it as a wall hanging. ...I have nothing good to say about that. It was a dumb idea. Not sure why we listened to her. I was all for leaving the stick behind. But for some reason, somebody put the stick in the car. And not in the back of the car...it was basically in the backseat. Where we could all smell it. The. Entire. Way. Home. So we're parked at this Dairy Queen, trying to ignore the stench as we eat, discussing whether or not we should get rid of the stick, and a dog comes up to the car. He's an adorable, golden-eyed chocolate lab, pitifully skinny, wagging his tail and licking his chops as the scent of our french fries wafts out the open car window. Fact: I have a habit of rescuing anything furry with four legs. What do I do? I start tossing him french fries out the window. Eventually, I broke off pieces of my chicken and shared those with him, too. At this point, we're all throwing food to this stray dog, and I finally got out of the car and started petting and talking to this dog, telling him how cute he was and that if I was driving, he'd already be in the car. But my mom is not buying it. "What are you going to do with that dog? Where are you going to put him? He can't just ride in your lap." Touche. He was crawling with fleas. Still... It was this time that my little sister and her friend went into Dairy Queen to go to the bathroom and when they came back, I was still no closer to convincing my mother to let me rescue this stray. In fact, the story of the Dairy Queen Dog ends there because when they returned from the bathroom, they looked at us with those deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces and said, "That guy in there said there's a gang coming to Dairy Queen tonight, he said they're headed this way, get in the car, let's go. Let's go NOW." Now, whether or not there were gangsters en route, it was getting pretty late and my mom finally pulled the plug on my efforts to smuggle the dog home with us. On the way home, we had another mishap with the directions, the car still smelled disgusting, and every radio station was staticky or playing nothing but commercials.
What was supposed to be a point A to point B journey home, with a short stop on the way to get something to eat, turned into an ordeal. It was laughable, and most of the time we made light of the situation, but that is a Grade A example of how my family seems to have a knack for making life harder than it needs to be. What could we have done? We could've - and definitely should have - left the stick on the beach. We could've - and arguably should have - routed the trip home on the GPS, right off the bat, and eliminated any confusion. We could've eaten inside the Dairy Queen and completely avoided any contact with the dog. And that is entirely true. Any of the complications we encountered on that trip could have been avoided. But I think the important thing is not that we failed to responsibly get directions, or that we may or may not have narrowly avoided being on an episode of Cops at Dairy Queen, but that through it all, no one laid the blame on anyone else. Instead of being pessimistic and annoyed that everything seemed to be going awry, we chose to laugh.
Even the most meticulous, perfect plans can unravel. It's all in how you deal with it.
-Shelbs
I'd like to illustrate this with a little STORY TIME!! I just returned from spending the past couple of days at the beach with my mom, little sister, and her best friend. As we're driving home, although three of us have iPhones, fully equipped with GPS and Google Maps, mom realizes she has noooo idea where we're going. Through Rockport? Up to Sinton? Who knows? Why we didn't address this sooner, the world may never know. So we pull out the map - the prehistoric kind that's flat and printed on paper - and after a few minutes of staring at the spiderweb of colored lines and numbers, we locate the correct route and hit the road again. Some miles later, the car starts to STINK like nobody's business. There were some suggestions thrown out there as to what exactly could be causing the stench - excrement, compost... Whatever it was, it was awful. Amid the panic about the smell, we missed a turn and ended up passing a prison where we could see the inmates playing basketball outside, which launched a whole discussion about THAT. When we finally stopped to eat at a Dairy Queen, we discovered it was a piece of driftwood my older sister had insisted on bringing home. She wasn't even in the car!! She came down to the beach for a few days - just long enough to find the stupid stick - and then instructed us to bring it home so she could stain it and use it as a wall hanging. ...I have nothing good to say about that. It was a dumb idea. Not sure why we listened to her. I was all for leaving the stick behind. But for some reason, somebody put the stick in the car. And not in the back of the car...it was basically in the backseat. Where we could all smell it. The. Entire. Way. Home. So we're parked at this Dairy Queen, trying to ignore the stench as we eat, discussing whether or not we should get rid of the stick, and a dog comes up to the car. He's an adorable, golden-eyed chocolate lab, pitifully skinny, wagging his tail and licking his chops as the scent of our french fries wafts out the open car window. Fact: I have a habit of rescuing anything furry with four legs. What do I do? I start tossing him french fries out the window. Eventually, I broke off pieces of my chicken and shared those with him, too. At this point, we're all throwing food to this stray dog, and I finally got out of the car and started petting and talking to this dog, telling him how cute he was and that if I was driving, he'd already be in the car. But my mom is not buying it. "What are you going to do with that dog? Where are you going to put him? He can't just ride in your lap." Touche. He was crawling with fleas. Still... It was this time that my little sister and her friend went into Dairy Queen to go to the bathroom and when they came back, I was still no closer to convincing my mother to let me rescue this stray. In fact, the story of the Dairy Queen Dog ends there because when they returned from the bathroom, they looked at us with those deer-in-the-headlights looks on their faces and said, "That guy in there said there's a gang coming to Dairy Queen tonight, he said they're headed this way, get in the car, let's go. Let's go NOW." Now, whether or not there were gangsters en route, it was getting pretty late and my mom finally pulled the plug on my efforts to smuggle the dog home with us. On the way home, we had another mishap with the directions, the car still smelled disgusting, and every radio station was staticky or playing nothing but commercials.
What was supposed to be a point A to point B journey home, with a short stop on the way to get something to eat, turned into an ordeal. It was laughable, and most of the time we made light of the situation, but that is a Grade A example of how my family seems to have a knack for making life harder than it needs to be. What could we have done? We could've - and definitely should have - left the stick on the beach. We could've - and arguably should have - routed the trip home on the GPS, right off the bat, and eliminated any confusion. We could've eaten inside the Dairy Queen and completely avoided any contact with the dog. And that is entirely true. Any of the complications we encountered on that trip could have been avoided. But I think the important thing is not that we failed to responsibly get directions, or that we may or may not have narrowly avoided being on an episode of Cops at Dairy Queen, but that through it all, no one laid the blame on anyone else. Instead of being pessimistic and annoyed that everything seemed to be going awry, we chose to laugh.
Even the most meticulous, perfect plans can unravel. It's all in how you deal with it.
-Shelbs
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