Dangerous Compassions

wild horses

Woke up with some energy wanting to get things done before breakfast.  Sending emails to those Ming met yesterday at the PBS mental health thing.  It’s work.

Yesterday I talked to a worker at Credo trying to figure out if I could get cheaper cell phone service from them.  Short answer is yes.  But Cricket might be tons cheaper yet, and people are telling me they’ve improved.  So we will probably go there when they open at 10.

Unfortunately it’s supposed to hit 98 degrees on Saturday and we’re tabling outdoors at Pagan Pride for NDE.  I’m not amused.

When we saw my mom she gave me this red warmness I thought was lost forever.  It used to be hers.  “Here, I washed this for you,” she told me.  I was overjoyed.

The forum where I gratitude journaled is down, so I better figure out some other way.

Yesterday at community lunch I lingered, happy with my peeps.  They ate the last of my birthday cake.

“I heard you had special surprise guests are your birthday party,” L said.  Wild horses walked by, when we were at the cabin.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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