Sunday morning

Sometimes, it's the little things.  My car accident was a little thing, easily fixable, but it threw me.  Wrecks always do.  Impacts of foreign objects--like big trucks--always do.

Except for a little puttering on the house, I've done little to nothing (but one yoga class) since.  Probably putting all my weight on the horn or bracing myself for the oncoming impact of said brown truck threw me into a couple of days of the fibro thing, but it seems to have vanished this morning. I watched a good three-episode series on Netflix last night: The Day Will Come.

Today, however, I'm running away.  Deb and I are taking a road trip to Austin.   Getting back on the horse again, I'm driving.  Then we'll take a stroll down South Congress and have lunch at the Italian place we love that serves lemon panna cotta.

Barbel sent me this picture of our dear friend Mary Frances:

She had a glow about her, always smiling, and all of us who knew and loved her miss her special radiance and friendship.