What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the I Love Weed California shirt under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect what if she took him in? Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them). Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes—she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow.

The “I Love Weed California shirt ” is actually called the Laser Ranging Retro-Reflector (LRRR) and is not a real mirror, but a series of catseyes, like the ones we see on roads, aligned on a panel. These catseyes reflect very powerful lasers beamed from earth and allow a very precise measurement of the distance between earth and moon. Buzz Aldrin deployed the LRRR, along with the rest of the EASEP (Early Apollo Surface Experiment Package), some 17 meters south of the Lunar Module Eagle, at 0.6735 N latitude, 23.4730 E longitude, in the lunar region called Sea of Tranquility. That exact location is known because the laser beams pointed at the LRRR must be extremely precise. So it’s important to remember that Neil Armstrong wasn’t the only person to land on the moon. Other eleven people did exactly the same, including Buzz Aldrin, who became the first man on the moon along with Armstrong during the Apollo 11 mission.
I Love Weed California shirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Vneck, Unisex and T-shirt
Best I Love Weed California shirt
Imagine that there’s something you don’t believe. For instance, picture a I Love Weed California shirt where you don’t believe in Santa Claus. Then imagine someone asked a similar question of you: If you as a non-Santa believer felt you had been given certain proof that Santa is real, would you accept that or look for loopholes in the proof? Um…what? “Loopholes in the proof?” What kind of proof is being presented? The wording makes it sound like one of the many, many failed proofs for the existence for Santa, the type that 5-year-olds try to use to make 10-year-olds believe, but always unsuccessfully. If Santa’s not real, then how do you explain the fact that there are presents? or If Santa’s not real, how can you explain how so many people believe in him? As an adult, of course, you understand these things not to be proof at all. You recognize them for the bad arguments there are. Then you seriously consider what it would take to make you believe, for realsies, in Santa Claus. Not some historical guy, but a present day North-Pole-living, elf-employing, made-in-China-toy-purveying, magical-reindeer-driving Santa Claus. Your mind boggles. Certainly seeing an old man in a suit wouldn’t be sufficient. I’m not sure what would, right off, numerous Christmas movies notwithstanding. Honestly, if you saw a guy in a Santa suit jump into a sleigh and watched his reindeer fly away, would you think “Well, guess I was wrong and Santa is real,” or would you think that just maybe your eyes had played tricks on you? Because we know that one of those things is entirely possible. The other one, not so much.

Delores, at ten weeks old, was quickly getting integrated into the I Love Weed California shirt of the flock. Because these six little chicks started out in an aquarium with a heat lamp in my study, then moved to a large hamster cage, then finally outside in a cage kept inside the barn, the grown chickens had all slowly acclimated to seeing Delores and his sisters. However, the first few times I put the babies in the open with the hens, I cautiously supervised the meeting. There was blustering and a little pushing by the big chickens – similar to what you might see on a junior high playground the first week of school – but nothing too severe. Once when the largest hen, Joan Crawford, pulled at Delores’s tail, he ran to me and flew into my arms – but when I scolded Joan and she stalked off to pout, Delores was brave enough to go back and try again. The pecking order shook out fairly easily within a couple days, with Delores towards the middle.