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Dangerous Compassions

great gravy, commodity memories, multiple pie-age

I made some mashed potatoes and gravy for dinner, with Ming’s help.  It was so delicious.  I had some leftover veg sausage from breakfast and cut it up and put it in the gravy–great idea.

I don’t keep flour on hand lately, so I found this recipe that uses white beans to thicken the gravy, and you don’t taste the beans.

https://yupitsvegan.com/vegan-gravy/

The recipe says to cook the miso, but I thought the point of miso was that it’s got probiotics, so I put it in at the end to give it some possibility of staying alive.

Always before I made mushroom gravy, but we don’t have any mushrooms.  We didn’t have potatoes either, but I had some instant–I actually like instant, from when I was poor long ago and got commonidites every month at the community building behind the library in Bishop.

Sometimes they made the boxes / bags of food beforehand, so we didn’t get to choose, and I would get some canned meat and be like, what do I do with this?

I remember one time I got a huge bag of currants.  I was like, what the hell is a currant.  I thought they were only in England.  I think they went to waste, since I hate raisins and they just seemed like raisins.

Our friend brought us three slices of blueberry pie that her dad made, and another friend baked eight sweet potatoes pies and promises to deliver us one today.

“This is a good life,” I told Ming.  “People just bring us pie–we don’t have to do anything.”

Of course, we do a lot of things.  My friend tells me, “You have to put yourself first.”  I wonder if she got hurt before, not putting herself first.  Must have.

In a month she’s due to have her baby.  I feel she’s on the cusp of her whole life changing so hard, and I see her there, shining on the brilliant edge, luminous lady.

I took a picture of my bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy, but it doesn’t look good at all, though it was excellent.  So I hope you’ll imagine it.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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