The good old days.
Cheshire Moon and Daniela Festi are fantastic by the way.
“The neurotypical high five”
I’ve practiced guitar and formalized a new song. I’m dressed! I brushed my teeth and hair!
I’ve walked my 4 (scandalous) letters over to the post box, one for Jan M (written this morning), one for Jan G, one for pOp, one for Tish. I did not have a coronary coming back up the hill, but I was well out of breath when I got back to the house.
I’ve had a whole wheat bun and a couple of cups of tea for breakfast, I brushed and trained and watered Buster and opened his door since we’ve been locking it, and I turned on the heater downstairs so it’s toasty by the time we start watching tv.
Contemplating pizza. Probably tomorrow.
The cultural competence reader is awaiting the novel, so we are a go. Even if things don’t work out (for all I know she hates it so much she can’t bear it, who knows), the process has commenced and I’m off to a new level of fiction.
Jeff while I’m thinking of it is it possible the raccoons have taken down the netting? I couldn’t see it this am
“I’d rather that a bigot think I’m a lesbian than a lesbian think I’m a bigot.”
there’s a coup in the US but it’s quiet