Return-path: Envelope-to: lojban@lojban.org Delivery-date: Thu, 21 Oct 2021 11:28:42 -0700 Received: from mail.ebspmbotorsjud.com ([193.124.7.139]:40014) by 36792b12ac38 with esmtp (Exim 4.94.2) (envelope-from ) id 1mdcnv-000v9S-Aw for lojban@lojban.org; Thu, 21 Oct 2021 11:28:41 -0700 DKIM-Signature: v=1; a=rsa-sha1; c=relaxed/relaxed; s=dkim; d=ebspmbotorsjud.com; h=Date:From:To:Subject:MIME-Version:Content-Type:List-Unsubscribe:Message-ID; i=winston.warren@ebspmbotorsjud.com; bh=wlUlbxlGaRJBxN+ATO9m2l/hwPo=; b=Q4CgrrMH0FGONENSWCUc2uha0Vg2S7Uu2weByqJsNC3s16CNaP0ZnnRs2ieAhGmbxXx1OC177uX4 KTfs54m9NTUAN1Hpt+BNrh3RqjsDOzUw2rISjBYNe0Qy2kyZPnQuU8ArH9PkvqzOYi7Hx9dcXGIE HfScFvp5yxC75tyi+R8= DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; c=nofws; q=dns; s=dkim; d=ebspmbotorsjud.com; b=ngzoHAprcFSHFxty5e2qryZbE2gens4v3KQbctRJESazEDQlS8lT+aR/XNV79PXYiI6aG4Xjhyjl BbYVp37Kq+5EK7ob/GgmVrWKGUqeoH1D5HnbPsy6j6VwTA+48GLx8LJRLnChjQnEUYUGagzjy1P6 CaSC1mOS8dcrE6mcUTI=; Received: by mail.ebspmbotorsjud.com id he6p5k0001g0 for ; Thu, 21 Oct 2021 14:16:04 -0400 (envelope-from ) Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2021 14:16:04 -0400 From: "Winston Warren" To: Subject: Lightweight, compact, and versatile sewing machine that goes with you anywhere MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="----=_Part_544_975151591.1634839194985" List-Unsubscribe: Message-ID: <0.0.0.59.1D7C6A7B63A270A.107556@mail.ebspmbotorsjud.com> X-Spam-Score: 4.0 (++++) X-Spam_score: 4.0 X-Spam_score_int: 40 X-Spam_bar: ++++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "1c83b5ee42e7", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see @@CONTACT_ADDRESS@@ for details. Content preview: ** Like a Tailor Away From Home ** On the go, mend, repair, and hem your garments! This handheld sewing machine has a simple learning curve and can be used by both professionals and beginners. Wool, cotton, leather, denim, and a variet [...] Content analysis details: (4.0 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.2 BAYES_999 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 99.9 to 100% [score: 1.0000] 3.5 BAYES_99 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 99 to 100% [score: 1.0000] 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: ebspmbotorsjud.com] -5.0 RCVD_IN_DNSWL_HI RBL: Sender listed at https://www.dnswl.org/, high trust [193.124.7.139 listed in list.dnswl.org] 2.7 RCVD_IN_PSBL RBL: Received via a relay in PSBL [193.124.7.139 listed in psbl.surriel.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record 0.0 SPF_HELO_NONE SPF: HELO does not publish an SPF Record 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 0.0 HTML_FONT_LOW_CONTRAST BODY: HTML font color similar or identical to background 0.0 MIME_QP_LONG_LINE RAW: Quoted-printable line longer than 76 chars -0.1 DKIM_VALID_EF Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from envelope-from domain -0.1 DKIM_VALID_AU Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from author's domain -0.1 DKIM_VALID Message has at least one valid DKIM or DK signature 0.1 DKIM_SIGNED Message has a DKIM or DK signature, not necessarily valid 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image ------=_Part_544_975151591.1634839194985 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit ** Like a Tailor Away From Home ** ------------------------------------ On the go, mend, repair, and hem your garments! This handheld sewing machine has a simple learning curve and can be used by both professionals and beginners. Wool, cotton, leather, denim, and a variety of other materials can all be employed with this machine. Get yours right now! The machine has a simple learning curve and can be used to sew by both professionals and novices. It's the perfect gift for your pals who enjoy doing their own sewing tasks. Shop Now Up To 54% -> http://www.ebspmbotorsjud.com/spenders-initializers/d324r2395mX8T610f612dya5fm18ohscFDrfhscFDrEsvZ7wQGoRSn5gzL106rN@@sv Anderson Vault Data-Transfer 7301 Tidwell Road Pace, FL 32571-9407 Change Subscription Preferences http://www.ebspmbotorsjud.com/traits-gardeners/1v26oT23V95B86oG11E61o24pa5fT18ehscFDrfhscFDrEsvZ7AQGoRSn7N1zX0DZ5gWlsv ------=_Part_544_975151591.1634839194985 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20
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3D"Handheld
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Like a Tailor Away From Home

The machine has a smo= oth learning curve and can be used by professionals and beginners alike to = sew. It is an ideal gift for your friends who are interested in DIY sewing = projects.  

These handheld machines can be used with vario= us materials and have a sewing thickness of 1.8mm. You can use the tool wit= h fabrics like wool, cotton, leather, denim, etc.

This machine is pe= rfect for last minute repair work, sewing, or even hemming your clothes whi= le wearing them! Get yours today!

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Anderson Vault Dat= a-Transfer

7301 Tidwell Road

Pace, FL 32571-9407

Update Subscription Preferences
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There was once a merchant who set out = with his wife on a pilgrimage to Mecca. Their daughter, though, they left a= t home, with an Arab slave girl to keep her company.

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One evening quite late, the merchant's= daughter and the Arab girl were singing and laughing and dancing about in = the upstairs apartment. By accident, the Arab girl knocked over the oil lam= p, leaving the young ladies in darkness.

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?What should we do?? said the merchant= 's daughter. ?It's too late to rouse the servants.?

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?I'll go out and find a light,? said t= he Arab girl.

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?But we're locked in!? said the mercha= nt's daughter.

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?The window's open,? said the Arab gir= l.

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So they knotted some bed sheets togeth= er and lowered them from the window. Then the Arab girl took a basket and c= limbed down.

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She walked down the street till she ca= me to a restaurant still open. The customers had all gone, but a handsome y= oung man was in the kitchen, cleaning up and preparing for the next day. On= the table were dishes piled high with kebabs, dolma, pilaf, and baklava.

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?May I come in?? said the Arab girl pr= ettily.

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The young man, who owned the restauran= t, cast an eye on the lovely young lady. ?Please sit down!? he said.=

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As the two of them chatted, the young man moved closer and close= r to the Arab girl. She was almost in reach when she asked him, ?What's in = those huge crocks??

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?One has olive oil, one has clarified butter, and one has honey.= ?

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?Honey?? she said. ?What's that??

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?Surely you've had honey before!?

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?Never! Please give me a taste.?

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So the young man took off the lid and leaned into the crock to s= poon some out. The Arab girl came up behind and lifted his feet, so he slid= head first into the honey. Then she quickly loaded her basket with dishes = of food, grabbed an oil lamp, and ran off.

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The young man came out of the honey dripping and sputtering. ?Oo= h, that Arab girl! If I ever catch her, I'll drink her blood!?=20

The next night, the Arab girl was again dancing about with the m= erchant's daughter, but she was wondering about the restaurant owner. So sh= e knocked over the lamp a second time.

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?I'll have to go out again,? she said.

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They lowered the bed sheets, and the Arab girl climbed down with= her basket. When she reached the restaurant, she again found the young man= alone.

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?How dare you come back!? he demanded. ?Do you know what I'll do= to you now??

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?Kiss me?? she asked.

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?Well, well!? said the young man, with a smile. ?What a fine ide= a!? He came close to embrace her.

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?Not yet,? she said. ?First we must eat and drink.?=20

So they ate and drank, and the Arab girl kept pouring him more a= nd more wine, and he kept drinking it, till his head dropped down and reste= d on the table. She found some rope, tied him up, and gagged him. Then she = took more dishes of food and a lamp and ran off.

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His customers found him the next morning and set him free. ?Ooh,= that Arab girl! If I ever catch her, I'll drink her blood!?

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Later that same day, the young man disguised himself as an old f= lower peddler, with ragged clothes and a long white beard. Then he walked u= p and down the streets, calling, ?Roses for sale! Roses for sale!?

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When he came by the merchant's house, he spotted the Arab girl l= ooking out the upstairs window. ?I have her now!? he muttered.=20

Meanwhile, the Arab girl was telling the merchant's daughter, ?T= here's that handsome restaurant owner. I wonder what he's up to.? She calle= d down to him, ?We would like some roses.?

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?Then please come to the door,? said the young man, in an old ma= n's voice.

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?We're locked in,? she said. ?But you can climb to the window.?<= /a>

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She lowered the bed sheets, and the young man started up. He was= just a few feet away when the Arab girl took a knife and sliced through th= e top sheet. Roses flew everywhere as the young man tumbled to the ground.<= /a>

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While a crowd gathered around him, the young man painfully strug= gled to his feet. ?Ooh, that Arab girl! If I ever catch her, I'll drink her= blood!?

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Not long after that, the merchant returned with his wife from th= eir pilgrimage. To thank the Arab slave girl for keeping his daughter good = company, he asked, ?What would you like as a gift??

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?A doll made of rubber,? she told him. ?It should be just my hei= ght and look just like me and wear clothes just like mine. And when you sha= ke it, it should say, ?Yes, yes.'? So the merchant had the doll made and ga= ve it to her.

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A few days later, the merchant spoke again to the Arab girl. ?I'= ve received a note from a man who does not name himself. He wishes to buy y= ou for an incredibly high price. But if you object, I'll refuse him.?

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?I don't mind,? she said, smiling.

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The next morning, a messenger came wit= h a carriage and drove the Arab girl to a house a few streets away. She and= her belongings were left alone in a room upstairs.

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The Arab girl took her doll and stood = it in the middle of the room. She poured red sherbet into its hollow center= , filling it with the sweet fruit drink. Then she hid in a closet.=20

Before long, the door flew open. There= stood the young restaurant owner, a dagger in his hand. He glared at the d= oll. ?You wicked girl! I've caught you at last!?

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Gripping it by the shoulder, he demand= ed, ?Do you remember how you pushed me into the honey?? He shook it back an= d forth.

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?Yes, yes,? said the doll.

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?And do you remember how you tied me u= p and gagged me??

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?Yes, yes.?

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?And do you remember how you made me fall to the street??

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?Yes, yes.?

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?You admit everything! Then prepare to die, for now I will drink= your blood!?

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He plunged the dagger into the doll, and red liquid spurted out.= As the doll fell over, he caught a few drops in his cupped hand, and raise= d them greedily to his lips.

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?But what's this? Her blood is so sweet! And if her blood is thi= s sweet, how much sweeter must be the rest of her! What have I done? I have= killed the sweetest woman in the world! Oh, if only I could bring her back= to life, I would free her and marry her! But it's too late. All I can do n= ow is end my own life!? He raised the dagger above his chest.=20

?Hey, dummy! I'm right here!?

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The young man stared at the Arab girl.

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?Darling!? he cried.

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?Dearest!? she answered.

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And they lived happily ever after.

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Pressing down on Tara, she felt as if = she were being smothered before her day had even begun.  Clammy soil e= nclosed her allowing for minimal movement, as Tara struggled to become upri= ght. Why was this so difficult? Her instincts assured Tara that all would b= e okay, and yet she questioned. Fully grounding herself and stretching down= , Tara could sense vibrations far above her. ?Are those others? Should I fo= llow those movements?, she thought, making great efforts not to be smothere= d by the soggy depths.  If only she could get a feel from below, a gri= p on something familiar. Tara's extremities ached as they extended both dow= n straining and upward rea= ching for a breakthrough.  Yearning for space, her drive was innate an= d strong.  She needed no one to guide her on her course.  Compuls= ions which could not be stifled beckoned Tara to persevere. But she was so = young, so fragile, and her task seemed impossible.  =20

Resting for but a moment, Tara knew few who had gone before her = succeeded, while many, so many, had rotted in this same constricting earth = before they even had a chance at life.  Life sounded lovely, fresh air= ,  sunshine, warmth instead of dampness. Yet she was alone, without ai= d, without encouragement. ?Get it together, Tara?, she urged snapping out o= f her feeble self-pity. Tara longed to reach the life giving surface. = All that was essential was just above her. Though she had never seen the u= topia she sought, her being prompted her to triumph. She was not a quitter.=   Grappling for a foothold beneath her, she steadied herself to begin = the tedious journey skyward. And although she carried no map, was given no = guidance and help from no compass, the direction of her journey resonat= ed in her without thought. Dank dirt attempted to pin her motionless, but h= er drive was far stronger.  She had been confined worse than this.&nbs= p; Her first memory was that being of a tortuously cramped space void of an= y light which would easily have been her grave had she not had the desire t= o live.  Despite the frigid temperatures, even then Tara had labored t= o free herself from her first prison. And now, her new cell  was simpl= y a fortress of packed dirt.

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Unexpectedly something brushed against= her. ?What was that!? Tar= a thought, panicking.  She wasn't able to defend herself here and was = utterly helpless without the ability to reach out quickly.  Any moveme= nt took taxing effort, and was slowed by the weighted force of the dirt and= decay squeezing in on her.  Perhaps she imagined the graze; perhaps h= er thoughts were playing tricks on her in the dark.  <= /p>=20

Yes, there it was again! Definite contact.  She was not ima= gining it. Something alive, and smooth had brushed by her once again. = If only Tara were able to see what enemy this was that taunted her.  = Without time to plan, a scurry of many bristly feet dashed across her midse= ction a third time.  Thinking she actually heard the intruder this= time, Tara strained for the surface.  Deep within her being Tara knew= if only she could reach the top, she would find safety.  There, she w= ould be secure, no harm would befall her.  There, she would be free to= be all she was created to be.  

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Giving herself a stimulating pep talk,= Tara imagined what her life would be like when she broke the surface. = ; Like breaking the surface of the ocean after tearing free from a billowin= g undercurrent.  When all appears to be lost and hope is inconceivable= , Tara told herself she had to prevail because her Eden was just ahead.&nbs= p; She could not abandon her trek. To forfeit the journey she had thus endu= red was not an option.  ?Persist, Tara?, she recited to herself. =  

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The progress was tedious, but progress= was being made. Was the soil looser here? Is it less compact here, easier = to press through at this point? Is she being hopeful or is  reality pl= aying tricks on her? Yes, the soil did feel more managea= ble, and drier.  Heavier dirt gave way to looser lighter dirt as Tara = forged on.  Could she actually feel a warmth now?  It was definit= ely becoming warmer the higher she went.  But where did these stringy = masses come from?  Thin strands stretched down all around Tara making = it difficult not to become entangled.  Her ascent now slowed once agai= n while she broke free from the strings' hold that surrounded her the highe= r she climbed.  If not one obstacle, then another tested her determina= tion. Yet giving up now, is not an option after having come so far. &n= bsp; 

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Light! Light penetrates, if ever so slightly, the gloomy world T= ara tries to escape.  So incredibly close now.  Tara feels a ting= le of excitement through her body knowing her treacherous journey is soon e= nding.  The charged anticipation gives her new strength. Reaching, str= aining, yearning for the surface above, Tara pleads with herself to proceed= farther.  Bits of dirt fall easily now around her loosely.  She = is able to move more freely here.  There is space between dirt clods, = small tunnels waiting just for her assisting in her passage onward. Tara fe= els herself literally becoming taller. From the puny entity struggling just= to be free of her cramped confinement at the beginning of her pilgrima= ge, to the maturer survivor she has transformed into fighting to exist spur= s her on now. With one final resolution, Tara bursts from captivity.=

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Hunched over on bended knees, Horta's = back aches severely from the countless hours this sunny morning she has alr= eady spent ripping uninvited crabgrass and ragweed from her lawn's borders.=   Even with her shaded wide brimmed hat, sweat rolls down Horta's fore= head and into her itchy red eyes burning.  The pollen from her intrude= rs isn't dreadful enough, but her body seems to be an enemy as well, blurring her vision with filthy = perspiration.  Dragging her knee pad to the next section of turf to pr= une, Horta groans in response to the lumbar pain.  Dirt caked garden g= loves reach for their steel forked companion. Clutches meet tool, and exten= d for a newly spied victim. With labored satisfaction, Taraxcum is torn= from her sweet victory. 

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