Sure there is only 24 hours in a day?
Tonight as we came home from a long day, that will go down in history as being LONG (and I will talk about it shortly, but there’s some legal issues at present) I spoke to someone who had had a longer day than me.
It started like this:
Note the amount of scribble on my left hand…
This is when one of the bad phone calls came in.
And the sunshine went out of the day.
To make me feel better, the Smallest Safety Officer took me (and Jorge) out for a snapping session.
Jorge and I are doing ok.
But to make Little Camera feel loved – he was responsible for this photo I have named “Beyond Thunderdome”
Oh – and I wanted to show you my lunch:
Sweet potato frittata.
I spoke with an old friend today – someone who listened when I was about as far down as I could be last year, but who has always laughed at me. And then I spoke with someone who is the reason for the title of this blog – someone who has had a worse day than me.
I have mentioned before the range of ethnicities that live here in camp. My Cambodian neighbours and the Greeks, the Croats and the filipinos. Today I spoke with a man from Burma. He pronounced it Bamah which made it hard at first to understand but he was crying and talking about the cyclone. And then I realized it was Burma – or Myanmar.
And the death toll from the cyclone is estimated to run over a million.
He had just heard from his family – all had survived.
There is something to be grateful for today.
Think of all the things you have to be grateful for.
I’m going to work on my cardigan grown into a dress… have I told you lately how much I LOVE tencel yarns??
Love to you all!