Well, the whines were of consequence. The awards, probably not so much.
Elevated Risk of Mullet goes to Neighbor Lady, for this giggler: becoming more anemic by the second due to a fake relative whose name starts with F and ends with LO. Chocolate almond butter for you, NL! (That is, if we've left you any).
Many hugs go to those enduring whines worthy of therapy. We are glad therapists are available, and glad you can whine about it here, too.
Cluesticks to unbloggable grumbles; skunks (and/or their unfortunate doggy encounters); logistics (let's just have extra cluesticks for that, as it eats my lunch almost every day); low pressure systems; teh fireplacing cancer; "preacher speak"; head-explosion-inducing politicians (they can get double, too); Mother's Day celebrations with "should" relatives; and insurance companies of all varieties.
And, I have a new rule (can I make rules unilaterally? Thanks): no whine at Wednesday Whining is ever bitchy. Ever.
Massages for everyone!