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red river hog
Awkward is kind of a fun thing to say. If you repeat it often enough, it loses all meaning: awkwardawkwardawkwardawkward.

I have been feeling generally awkward lately; rather like a small penguin staggering about bumping into things and squawking a lot.

Possibly a penguin preparing to do something penguins are not known to excel at, such as fly. (The small penguin staggers about bumping into things with a rocket pack strapped to its back. It looks at the pictures in the instruction manual very carefully [because penguins can't read] and considers parachutes.)

It's a really cute mental image, isn't it? Adorable little penguin bumping into things. Thus my goal: embrace the awkwardness. It's okay to stagger about flapping my stubby little wings. It's okay to fall down on my penguiny feathered butt. Penguins are well-padded, and there will be no lasting damage.

And I will try to keep the squawking to a minimum.

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Squawk all you want. I love the imagery.

And penguins can be very graceful in other circumstances! I like it. (Of course, I also have a small collection of picture books about penguins wearing Hawaiian shirts...I need to acquire the rest of the Tacky the Penguin series to round it out.)

I also think of seals, because I see them more often (they hang out on the beach two blocks from my office) -- incredibly graceful swimmers, hilariously awkward on land.

Tacky the Penguin? In a Hawaiian shirt? Fascinating.

Augh! No seals! Terribly dangerous big toothy fast things, from a penguin's perspective.

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