Do I cut these “stems” off my pileas or leave them? They are growing roots

2021.09.17 01:54 Olliever31 Do I cut these “stems” off my pileas or leave them? They are growing roots

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2021.09.17 01:54 Itchy_Tasty87 Time to calm it down a bit.

Time to calm it down a bit. submitted by Itchy_Tasty87 to memes [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 SweetCaroline44 Seat covers

Hi everyone! I am new to the crosstrek family. I have a 2020 crosstrek premium, just wondering what the best and most reasonable priced seat covers are?
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2021.09.17 01:54 YPG6100 Ranges near Norristown?

Hello, I live in Montgomery country, if you guys don’t know where that is it’s basically right outside of Philly.
I was wondering if there are any outdoor ranges around here I could go to during the weekends? I have a bunch of guns, ranging from new semi autos, to old milsurps. I want to shoot them all lol. I’ve had no luck with indoor ranges around here, so I’d really like to try out an outdoor range.
I don’t care if I have to pay a membership fee, I’d just like to be able to go somewhere where I’d be able to shoot my guns, preferably somewhere with a decent amount of range as well. Ty for reading.
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2021.09.17 01:54 ramnae Best class for stamina templar

I'm going to create a templar and I'm torn between a few races. It's mostly casual play, maybe some dungeons...but I mostly play with my husband. The three races I'm torn between are redgaurd, wood elf or imperial. My draw towards the imperial is the bonus to gold drop rates. Because with their one percent bonus plus maxing out gilded fingers for a total of 11% gold gain and I just don't know if that's worth it. Out of these three classes what would you consider to be the best for a stamina templar? My biggest draw for the imperial would be the gold aspect.
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2021.09.17 01:54 CaeruleanVein Who to FLEX

WDIS. Too many players. 8 man full PPR
View Poll
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2021.09.17 01:54 iNeedAnswers_n0w LOG-IN WITH FACEBOOK DOESNT LOAD!!

i was getting this error notifications so i re-install stremio (from the official page) and now when i try to log in with my facebook account the screen keeps saying "logging in with facebook" but ive wait for hours and it doesnt load >.< i dont wanna create another account and lose all the great movies i never get to watch on my current account. PLZZ ANY ONE HAVE ANY SOLUTIONS!?
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2021.09.17 01:54 AlanFreed1951 Although most are snarled in shipping, the Robosen Optimus robots are gradually making their way to YouTube. Naturally, strange things are happening as a result.

Although most are snarled in shipping, the Robosen Optimus robots are gradually making their way to YouTube. Naturally, strange things are happening as a result. submitted by AlanFreed1951 to Transformemes [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 Serge67 What fact were you taught in school that was actually a lie?

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2021.09.17 01:54 Paul-Anderson-Iowa Setting up for the World Food & Music Festival Downtown (17th - 19th)!

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2021.09.17 01:54 puzzler_2016 Alright glazers, do they always get stuck in your hair??

Tried my first set Monday night. And there is already quite a bit of lifting on the tips. They are getting in my hair. And I’m DYING not to take them off and try a different set already. Maybe the 2nd time application will be better? 🤷🏼‍♀️😝 I typically wear a top coat with my gloss and seal the tips. But haven’t tried this with the glaze. Not sure I’m crazy about them yet.
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2021.09.17 01:54 DM_ME_YOUR_PET_PICSS Are Dogs Food?

Are Dogs Food? submitted by DM_ME_YOUR_PET_PICSS to LivestreamFail [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 Tight-Victory-6628 That benzo fried fuckhead again

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2021.09.17 01:54 greenbeanbunny Help me solve this cipher for my school! Not quite sure what it's asking but any suggestions are welcome.

Help me solve this cipher for my school! Not quite sure what it's asking but any suggestions are welcome. submitted by greenbeanbunny to gravityfalls [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 montaukwhaler Early discontinuation of induction therapy in chemoimmunotherapy as an effective alternative to the standard regimen in patients with non-small cell lung cancer: a retrospective study - Journal of Cancer Research and Clinical Oncology

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2021.09.17 01:54 southTOAD Things aren't gonna get better

people keep telling me hopefully things will get better or stay strong but how is that gonna fucken help, things aren't getting better, I'm not strong so I can't even stay strong to begin with, I've lost all hope, it's only gonna get worse from here, my life is falling apart
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2021.09.17 01:54 RepresentativeTry406 Videoclip anime hermoso

Videoclip anime hermoso submitted by RepresentativeTry406 to iLuTV [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 assaltante sad feeling

bro, does anyone else have the feeling they can't get better anymore? like, you have the will and willingness to improve the game but simple you CAN'T, it's very sad and discouraged more and more, I'm diamond 3 and I feel like I'm not leaving here anytime soon or maybe just with a miracle
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2021.09.17 01:54 ArtsywyoOreo How Asphalt 8 MP Elo should work

I dont know what kind of weird ass formula there is in this game that makes elo unobtainable: But it should be way simpler than it is. This Gettinf 2nd out of 11 racers and losing 7 elo even if the guy above you has boosters and a higher ranked car is very bad.
In my mind you should be rewarded for: Podium Finishes, Beating other players, Beating other cars with higher ranks, and overall speed.
The game should stop penalizing your elo based off of: your current elo either all together or minimal.
Take this: 3rd Place gets 5 Elo garunteed. 2nd gets 12 and 1st gets 23. Each player you beat is an adional 3 elo increase. So say you are 3rd place out of 8 racers, you would get 20 elo. This includes disconnects.
Each player you lose to is a -2 elo and if its not a podium finish, each place after gets a -2 elo. so If you lost 12/12 you would have a -38 elo for being the absolute worst player.
Now: we have to consider rating otherwise the game becomes unplayable for anyone not using an aeriel atom V8 with the P2W boosters at the D class level. The rating should go off of a way better system that I dont really want to dive into the fractional percentages of math there. But I dont like the idea of A guy placing 4th losingn 20 elo even tho the cars above him have 10mph better top speeds 1 second better acceleration, and additional boosters even if that 4th place had a track time .976 seconds slower than the absolute perfect time would be with that car. Then again I dont know how asphalt would do that since their current AI already are terrible srivers and wreck all over
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2021.09.17 01:54 t4bullock The Creature of Rogers Swamp

I drove our family SUV down the rain-soaked back country road at 25 miles per hour. The wind blew droplets hard against the wind shield. The wipers could barely keep up with the onslaught as long lines of moisture accumulated on the edges of their reach. We were less than ten miles from home, but it would take nearly thirty minutes at this speed. But with my wife and four-year-old son in the back, safety came first. A pair of headlights raced up behind me and began to tailgate me hard. The vehicle swerved back and forth, then the driver flashed the high beams four consecutive times. I slowed down further as we approached a hard hairpin turn. I had lived in the area all my life, and knew the road flooded out badly just around the bend. The driver of the other car, a small black sedan, gunned the engine and passed me on the left in the blind curve. He honked the horn as he sped by, dived back into our lane, then brake checked us hard. He nearly hydroplaned as the rear wheels fought for traction in nearly three inches of standing water before getting power. The car accelerated off into the night.
“Jesus, this guy is a fucking idiot,” I growled as I came out of the turn and gained speed back to thirty. My hand was already gripping the wheel with white knuckles due to the inclement weather.
“David, it’s fine. Don’t take things so personally,” my wife, Carolyn, said as she lightly touched my wrist. She was right, of course. My blood pressure returned to normal, and I chanced a glance into the backseat to check on our son, Jason. He gleefully moved his small plastic Godzilla figure up and down and made little growling noises. He had only just opened the toy an hour earlier, at my brother’s home. It had quickly become his favorite and devoured several of his cousin’s micromachine tanks in a vicious battle for the living room carpet.
“You okay back there, mutt?”
“Daddy, I gots Godzilla! Rawwwwwwwr!” He grinned widely as he made the sound effect and showed me his teeth. I couldn’t help but smile back.
I thought we had left Christmas at my brother’s home in enough time to outrun the storm. I clearly thought incorrectly. It had been a mild winter, with average temperatures falling only into the high forty-degree Fahrenheit mark at night and sometimes rising into the seventies on sunny days. Had this been a storm during another year, there would have been a foot of snow on the ground by now. Very unusual for this part of the South. Weather in North Carolina was always unpredictable, and this winter was no different. The small town of Creedmoor was being bombarded by what amounted to a tropical storm on Christmas Eve.
My brother, Ken, lived deep off the beaten path, even for a small town. His home was nestled at the base of Bald Mountain, an abandoned opal mine now overrun with diamondback rattlesnakes. Mobile phone reception was nonexistent this far out. We left the small intersection of Shoofly behind as we turned onto Old NC 75 Highway to return to town, passing the locally famous hundred-year-old gas station with the giant Coca-Cola painting on the side. The SUV sputtered as we went uphill, and I looked down at the gauges. The gas light was on. I hadn’t even noticed. The rain was slowly letting up, making it a bit easier to drive.
“I thought you filled it up yesterday, babe,” I said to my wife. She looked up at me over her eyeglasses before looking at the gauges and frowning.
“No, I didn’t drive it to work yesterday. I took my car to the shop and drove us home, remember?”
“Ah. Right.”
She stared at me in a matter-of-factly way as I realized I had messed up. We were down to one car. We were close to home, but the needle was on E. Old NC 75 was a winding, hilly two-lane highway with no gas stations or safe places to pull off. We drove for another minute or two, the engine struggling as I realized we were practically running on fumes. We dipped down into the bottom of a steep hill and the car struggled as it crested the top and looped into another hairpin turn, this time leading to the first of three bridges over Rogers Swamp. We crossed the first bridge slowly. A thin layer of water crested over it from the earlier downpour, threatening a flood the bridge completely by Christmas Day.
As we crossed to the second bridge, the SUV sputtered one more time and died. I pulled it over as far off the roadway onto the shoulder as I could, then activated the emergency flashers. I flicked the key, but the engine didn’t turn over. Great, just great.
“Daddy, is the truck brokeded?”
“Everything is okay, mutt. The truck is hungry. It needs some more gas.” I unbuckled myself from the driver’s seat and removed the house key from the key ring. Carol looked at me incredulously.
“David, you aren’t thinking of walking home, are you? It’s too far.”
“We’re about three miles from the house. It’s not that far, and it’s a straight shot back to town,” I said as I pulled my jacket back up around my shoulders and slid my arms through the sleeves.
“Daddy, I go with you!” Jason looked concerned as the dim blue LEDs from the dash reflected off his face.
“Sorry, but I need you do something really important for me. I need you to stay here and protect the car. Who else is going to look after mommy if you’re with me?” I saw his face scrunch as he pondered the question for a moment.
“You come right back? Take Godzilla. He keeps you safe!” Jason presented the small figure to me. They eyes glowed softly in the dark. I pushed the toy gently back to his chest.
“Right back, I promise. You hang on it for. See you soon.”
“Okay fine. Loves you, daddy.”
“Love you too, mutt.”
“David be careful,” Carol said to me. “Call me when you get to the house, so I know you’re safe.”
“There’s no phone service here. I don’t think it would go through, but I will try. See you soon.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and tussled Jason’s long blonde hair. I grabbed the emergency flashlight from the back of the seat and checked to confirm it turned on. Then, I stepped out into the strangely warm winter night.
The rain had softened to a dull, aggravating drizzle. I walked on the fog line and cursed at myself for not checking the fuel levels before I left. It was a silly mistake. The pungent odor of methane drifted towards my nostrils as I crossed the concrete bridge over Rogers Swamp. The rain had filled the bog nearly to bursting, and small trickles of water washed over the bridge in certain places. Small traces of fog drifted over the bridge. I couldn’t tell if it was fog from moisture or caused by gases from deep in the swamp. Frogs croaked somewhere in the distance. The half moon broke through the clouds and provided some illumination of the surrounding area. I crossed the half-mile long bridge, splashing through standing water and nearly stepping on a black snake, probably stirred from hibernation by the unusually warm climate. I walked for about fifteen to twenty minutes when I reached the third and final bridge over Rogers Swamp. The bridge, like the other two, was flooded. An inch or two of standing water flowed freely under the guard rails and across the concrete surface. I took a moment to wipe moisture from my forehead.
A bank of fog floated across the bridge and I saw a dim red light through the haze. I squinted into the darkness. It was a small black Lexus. The emergency flashers were not on, just the steady glow of taillights. I approached it cautiously and realized it was the same black car which had passed us several miles back. It had run off the road and slammed nose first into a large oak tree. The front hood was crumpled, and steam rose steadily from the engine compartment.
“Hello? Are you in there?” I called out to the driver. There was no response.
A radio chattered softly. The battery was still supplying power to the car. I shined my light over the wreck. The door was crushed, and I knew it was impossible to open. I approached apprehensively, not sure of what I was about to see. Glass littered the ground around the driver’s side door. I raised the flashlight and gasped as I looked inside. The driver inside had not been wearing a seatbelt. He was young, barely twenty or so. He was draped over the deflated airbag, glass shards buried deep into his face. Hollow, lifeless eyes stared back at me in the soft warm glow of my flashlight. Small droplets of rain pitter pattered off his cheeks and dripped down onto the interior. The windshield had a clear impact mark from his head. I looked to see if he moved at all, but there was no rise to his chest. It was then that I saw something infinitely more disturbing.
His left arm was gone at the shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it at first, I was so focused on his face. He was wearing a leather jacket, but it had been torn away just above the biceps. Blood had sprayed onto the interior of the car, splattering across the white leather seats. I began to realize the car displayed signs of brutal damage which was not caused by the crash. Deep gashes were ripped into the roof, and both driver’s side windows had been smashed inward. Long, jagged slashes were gouged out of the hood. The young man had been savagely murdered. I took a step back from the car and shined the light into the deep blackness of Rogers Swamp.
Everyone who lived in Creedmoor or any of the small towns nearby new the stories. Lake Rogers was not a picturesque recreational lake Like Falls or Kerr Lake, or the idyllic vacation spot like Lake Gaston or Smith Mountain. No, Rogers Lake was a deep, murky black pit some two miles wide, surrounded by unforgiving, rotten bogs. Rogers Swamp, a sprawling, untamed, marshy flat connected to the east of Lake Rogers, spanned over one thousand acres on its own. It was completely unnavigable, with dense tree cover and long, deep creeks leading into the interior, overrun with downed logs. What lay beyond that was rumor and legend.
Fishermen often spoke about seeing things in the water. They will tell you they could something beneath the surface, just out of sight. Hunters will tell you there is something in the Rolling Hills Forest around Rogers Swamp. They say you can hear strange growls, and see a large shadowy figure move in the darkness. On the edge of Lake Rogers, you could occasionally see animals behaving oddly, or spot a strange footprint in the muck near the shoreline. Everyone had a story about the thing lurking in Rogers Swamp.
I took a step back and appraised the situation. I was a rational man, a robotics engineer by trade. I did not believe in the tall tales and had not given them more than a passing laugh since I was a child. Still, the grisly scene before me was completely unnerving. I removed my phone from my back pocket and checked the top left corner. No Service. I pressed the emergency call button, but it failed to go through. I was less than a mile of home. I would grab the gas can from the storage shed and call 911 from there. I hated to be so pragmatic, but my family was alone on the side of the road and that poor soul wasn’t getting any more dead. He would have to wait.
As I walked towards the point where bridge met road again, I noticed something odd. All the frogs had stopped croaking. It was completely silent, except for the occasional rustling of wind through leafless trees. I picked up the pace a bit and broke out into a sweat. I crossed the final bridge and looked towards the sharp right turn which led away from the swamp and into town. Fog completely covered the roadway, blending the street with the surrounding forest. The only indication of where one ended and the next began was the tops of the towering evergreens, illuminated by the moonlight and glistening with fresh moisture. That’s when I heard it.
A low, powerful rumble. At first, I thought it was far off thunder. Then I heard a deep inhalation of breath, followed by another rumble. It was guttural, like the sound an alligator makes. I looked but could see nothing in the overpowering darkness. I stepped into the middle of the highway and broke into a jog. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I thought about what could be out there in the deep recesses of the swamp. My mind wandered to my family. I saw a large green sign materialize from the fog.
“Welcome to Creedmoor, population 5,249.”
I had made it back to town. In just a few short minutes I found myself in my own driveway. I quickly phoned for the county Sheriff, informing them of the accident and the general location. I grabbed the five-gallon tank of fuel I normally used to the lawn mower. Less than half full, but still more than enough to get home. I called my wife’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Damn it. I still had a long walk ahead of me and set out as quickly as I could. I alternated swapped the tank from hand to hand as I became tired. Two gallons of fuel still weighed twenty pounds, not a small weight when carrying it for miles. My walk was filled with anxiety as I thought about the dead man in the car, and how long my wife and son had been alone. I hoped they were okay. The familiar sight of headlights told me I was back at the wrecked Lexus. I walked past quickly. I cut a short glance inside. Dead eyes stared back at me.
As I reached the end of the bridge, I heard that familiar rumble. Deep, throaty, and threatening. I looked back in the direction of the ravaged car. In the half moonlight, I could just make out the shape of a thing standing beside it. It was tall, well over six feet. The body was lean, but strong, like a swimmer. The thighs were thick, and the legs bent in a digitigrade stance. A long, powerful tail, easily longer than the entire body, dragged the ground. The shoulders were broad but slumped over, giving it a slightly hunchback appearance. They led to long, lanky arms and oversized hands. The face was horrifying. It looked like a snub-nosed crocodilian. Several rows of small spikes protruded near the snout and ran down the length of the back to the tail. The eyes reflected the light in the darkness.
The Creature of Rogers Swamp. The Rogers Bog Beast. The Lizard Man. It clutched the corpse of the driver in its left hand. His body hung limply in the powerful grip. Water cascaded across the bridge as the small streams and rivers connecting to the lake overflowed with water. It splashed against the things’ powerful calves. It flexed its huge, clawed feet and took a step towards me, then two. Fear gripped me as I realized the gargantuan crocodilian viewed me as live prey. I took as step backwards for each one it took forward. The Creature had long strides and covered the distance quickly. It was upon me in mere seconds. I couldn’t outrun it. In what felt like moments, it stood right in front of me. It towered over me, the long, powerful tail swishing in the water on the bridge. The slitted yellow eyes showed no emotion, only a hunger for meat. The mouth opened and gnarled, snaggled teeth jutted forward. The breath smelled of rotted flesh and death from a thousand meals long eaten. The Creature’s body was heavily armored in scales. I knew stood no chance against it. A powerful rumble emanated from deep inside the things’ chest. The nostrils flared as it smelled me, possibly deciding if it thought I would be better than the meal in hand.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a siren echoed off the trees. The monstrous thing turned its head upwards to the night sky. As the siren inched closer, it looked back at me. The Creature leaned down and met eye to eye for a moment. I thought to myself, this is the end. It’s going to bite my head off right here. But it didn’t. Instead, the Creature crossed the bridge, dragging the dead body behind it like a toy. It stepped up onto the guard rail, bending it in a foot. It leaped over the side with a loud splash and was gone.
Bright red and blue lights reflected off the trees of the hairpin turn. The ambulance turned the corner and high beams washed over me. A white Dodge Charger with the county Sheriff’s insignia followed right behind. The deputy stepped from his car and tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t hear him. All I could hear was that deep rumble. After several moments, I regained my composure enough to respond to questions. I told the officer I had no idea where the driver had gone. He would not have believed me, anyway, and I would have spent Christmas morning in Holly Hill Hospital if I had. Call it sheer dumb luck, call it a Christmas miracle, call it nature taking course. I survived my encounter with the Creature of Rogers Swamp. I now had my own story to tell.
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2021.09.17 01:54 mikey_g413 Customers drive me insane sometimes lol

Customers drive me insane sometimes lol submitted by mikey_g413 to doordash_drivers [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 KhalenAskhan Vampire Suker and Vampire Vamp (By Khalen Ashkan)

Vampire Suker and Vampire Vamp (By Khalen Ashkan) submitted by KhalenAskhan to yugioh [link] [comments]


2021.09.17 01:54 smirks71 What am I?

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2021.09.17 01:54 SD1RAGER [USA-TX] [H] rtx 3060 msi ventus 2x oc [W] paypal g/s

pulled from brand new abs prebuilt
$630 shipped including 3.1% paypal goods and services fee
timestamp
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2021.09.17 01:54 Arcterion When Marine turned to Aqua's mother (again)

When Marine turned to Aqua's mother (again) submitted by Arcterion to Hololive [link] [comments]


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