They shook the thesuarus and all the words fell out and then they still tossed in all the horse-related cliches. (This is for an omnibus of 5 year old equestrian novellas.)

Padding the essay is right.

Take care of yourself. I know someone with BE and he manages his through meds and regular checkups. So glad you got diagnosed so it can be cared for.

In this case it was a total ADHD moment. I saw the elderly goose making his way into the coop when I went out to open the gates for the horses, though oh, I'll shut the door on my way back, got distracted by a board falling off the run-in shed that I had to fix in the dark and totally forgot.

I'm sure Ian Fleming probably would consider himself more of an action adventure author than a SF author, but I always think of James Bond like that too because it's a certain type of fantasy.

It's already a trope in our house that if someone does and we're watching SFF media, we expect them not to be dead by the end of the movie/show but brought back by some dues ex machina way.

I suspect it's my 'tism + my earlier trauma/always worrying if it's something someone will bully me about that's causing most of the struggle, but dunno. //END END

But as much as I love the NFR and the western/cowboy aesthetic I struggle with the political and religious leanings of a vast swath of that group and not wanting to be pigeon holed as if left to chose my own fashion it'd be boots, jeans, western shirts. There's the reclaiming aspect but still. Hmm /