More Dolls On Walls, Spider Plants Gone Rogue, And Quotes From Magnolia June

I went through a phase of buying souvenir costumed dolls that represented all the countries of the world. At thrift stores, of course. And then yes, I'd hang them on the wall. Mostly. Sitting them on a table or shelf or something was too boring and tacky to even contemplate but hanging them on the wall was absolutely not boring. 
Now. Is it tacky? You tell me. In my opinion, no. Something as unexpected as dolls on walls is interesting. Besides that, people have made fortunes with tackiness. Let us consider the films of John Waters. Some would call him tacky, tacky, tacky. 
Many call him a genius. AND an artist. 
Am I a genius and an artist for hanging dolls on the walls? 
Oh good Lord no. I'm just saying that "tacky"is the first cousin of "whimsy" and let's leave it there. 

Let us ponder this lovely señor y señora. They are not dolls, exactly but rather plaster, uh, things that someone hand-painted, I am sure. I don't have the slightest idea where they came from. But they have graced a wall of my kitchen forever. 
Do you notice the little white chips on both their noses? Makes them look like they've just snorted a few lines, doesn't it? 

Moving on.

This is the top of my kitchen hutch and the things on the wall above it. Liz Sparks made me the beautiful Virgin of Guadalupe and I bought the angel at an antique and vintage store in Monticello a long, long time ago. It is made of celluloid, I think, and was meant to light up as she has a hole in the back of her neck where you could put a small light bulb. I've never done that but I'm sure she would be so very radiant if I did. I think she qualifies as being rather doll-like.
The clock is a clock. I like that clock. 

Some dolls I do not put on walls. Here's a little tableau in my bathroom. 

Okay, yeah, that snake plant is probably dead but maybe not. I love those two dolls very much and I like them right there where they are with their seashell and their hopefully not dead snake plant in a pot that had been my grandmother's. I think it is rather beautiful. I especially love the little bebe head poking out from behind the mother who is carrying her in a back sling which I just looked up and see that it's real name is a "manta." Now we know. Textiles, Boud!

The baby's eyebrows remind me of something Maggie said awhile back which was that she is starting to get eyebrows like mine.
Of course, mine are gray. Mostly. But yeah- if she means eyebrows like Eugene Levy's, she ain't wrong.
And this ALL reminds me of when she was born and Lily said, "She doesn't have any eyebrows!" 
"Don't worry," said Jason. "She'll get one." His side of the family has very healthy eyebrow growth too. 

So that's a little wander around my house on this drizzly, getting colder night. Before the rain this afternoon, I did some tending and tidying in the camellia bed. This is not a one-day operation. What I mostly pulled up today were spider plants. 
Yes. Spider plants. Everyone's favorite house plants. 
This is what happens when you put a potted spider plant outside in my yard and then ignore it for awhile. 

Yes. Even spider plants are invasive in my yard. And here's something I did not realize until today- spider plants are hell to pull up when they're not in a pot. They have bunched tubers with strong, thick roots coming off of them which grow deep into the dirt. 

Well, live and learn. 

Mr. Moon is at an FSU basketball game and I just got this picture from Vergil.

I know Boppy is so proud to be at the game with his boys and their parents. A few weeks ago it was Maggie he took. I asked her which  she had enjoyed more- going to the basketball game with Boppy or going fishing. 
"The fishing," she said. 
"It was more relaxing."

That's our girl. She knows what she likes as should we all.

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Oh, You Beautiful Doll, You Great Big Beautiful Doll

Now I know I have told this story at least two or three times but I love the story so much and it is such a good illustration of me and my kids that I shall tell it again. 
A few years ago Lily found something at a thrift store most likely, and I cannot remember what the item was but it was eye-catching. That I know. She sent a picture of it to the group text and said something like, "I really love this but I don't know what to do with it." 
To which Hank replied, "Have you learned nothing from our mother? Hang it on a wall."
Oh, Hank knows me so well. He should as we sort of grew up together but that has nothing to do with those Seminole Indian dolls hanging on the wall in my room except of course it does. I decided to actually clean our room today and in that room I have a vanity I bought many years ago at an antique fair at the mall I went to with my friend Sue. I love that vanity. It was one of the few things I really spent some money on back in those days when I was a single mother in nursing school but it was just one of those things you know is meant to accompany you through life from here on out. 

It was made to be yours and has just been waiting patiently for you to come around, recognize it, and take it home. 
Which is what I did. I've now had it longer than I've had Glen or Lily or Jessie and that is a lot of years. Still, I love it and am so glad I bought it and when it gets very dusty, I am shamed and get out the furniture polish and rags. And that's what happened today. 
For a few years now, those Seminole dolls had been on the vanity, arranged carefully to all fit in but the problem was, very little else could fit and I thought about what Hank had said and in just a few minutes, Bob's your uncle, and those ladies were hanging on the wall. 
These dolls used to be found and sold all over Florida at many different venues. All of the theme parks like Jungle Gardens and Monkey Jungle and Cypress Gardens and Parrot Jungle (we were big on jungles for obvious reasons) and Weeki Wachee and Rainbow Springs and Homosassa Springs sold them in their gift shops and so did many roadside citrus shops where you could also buy marmalades, citrus candy, honey, orange blossom perfume, and ceramic alligator salt and pepper shakers. 
The souvenir business in Florida was strong before Disney came in and fucked it all up. 
You could even buy necklaces and earrings with scenes depicting mostly Florida sunsets made of butterfly wings at restaurants right by the cash register next to the York peppermint patties wrapped in silver and green foil, along with the toothpick dispenser. 

This is not the time to start a discussion on using butterfly wings to make jewelry with. It was actually pretty amazing but...yeah. 

I always loved the Seminole Indian dolls but only had one, I think, and I wish I had held on to it. Now they are "vintage" and as such, worth far more (monetarily at least) than they were when the Seminole and Miccosukee  women created them out of palmetto fiber, tiny beads, and fabric scraps. 
I began to be fascinated by and realize how much I loved them when I was probably in my fifties and began to buy them when I came across them priced so that I could rationalize the purchases. Linda Sue has also sent me some because she is not only an amazing and precious human being, she is also what I would call a "finder." 

And okay, let's just carry out this theme while we're at it. 
The vanity has a sort of shelf bottom near the floor and that is where I keep my sweet old babies whom no one would really want but me. They have a special pillow and a stuffed duck I made with cashmere from a sweater I had that basically fell apart due to age and moths. I brought them up to the bed today so I could clean their bed and the area around it. Many of you know these bebes and please, I beg of you, if you think they are creepy, just keep it to yourself. 

They are rescue dolls and I care for them very much. I may even love them. 
Whatever.

And that's a part of what I did today. Clean our bedroom, hang dolls on the wall (I did not damage them in the least) where I will look at them with more attention every day. I will also take more notice of the three dolls on the vanity below them which Linda Sue also sent me. 

I've made more soup tonight and achieved something I've never achieved before which is that I did not have to change pots in mid-soup-making because I let the soup grow to proportions inappropriate to our needs and the pot I started it in. 
I am so fucking proud. 
I am really not kidding. 

Clean sheets are on the bed and actually, they are not only washed and dried, they are new. 
Thanks, Costco, for Egyptian sateen cotton sheets that cost less than two good ribeye steaks. 

It did indeed freeze last night and was about 29° on the back porch when I got up. There was ice where we let the garden sprinklers drip.

There will be more freezes for the next few days and so nothing is getting unwrapped. 

And do not fear- martinis are DEFINITELY involved. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Oh God. She's Repeating Herself Again

Today was Operation Plant Protection Day. Most tropical plants can handle a temperature of 32° F (which would be 0° C), especially if it doesn't stay at that temperature for very long. Anything below that and there's a good chance the plant will take on severe damage or even die although a seemingly dead plant will often surprise me with new growth. It might take months but I am patient. 
We used to bring every potted plant we had into the house when the forecast was for freezing weather but we are older now and some of those plants are huge and must weigh at least a hundred pounds. Glen can and does manage to move them with his dolly and my help (which is not much) but I hate to ask him to do that. Also- finding a place in the house to fit all the plants is not easy. And then of course when the danger of frost is over, the entire operation must be done in reverse and the plants are moved back outside. 
I have begun wrapping plants in old sheets and blankets when I feel they are too big to move or I am simply not that attached to them. Sometimes this works. Sometimes it does not. And if it's done right, it's not easy. Check out Steve Reed's blog post on unwrapping his beloved avocado tree when they were about to get snow. Yes, it is the UNWRAPPING but as he goes through the steps, you can easily see what the wrapping entailed. 
Now look- I'm just not going to go to that amount of effort. But I will make an effort,  pitiful as it may be. 
I knew Glen would be home by late afternoon and help me bring in the two plants I was just not willing to risk which are my Roseland mango and my sea grape I started from a seed I picked up near the Sebastian inlet. Although I wrapped the sea grape during the last freeze, it ain't looking good folks, but I do believe that after some cutting back it will begin to show signs of growth again. The mango, which I had also wrapped, only had a few leaves that were nipped so it's good. I grew this plant from the seed of a mango which grew on a tree that when I ran with the feral group of kids who roamed the woods and dirt roads of Roseland, we could always count on to have fruit during the season. And the tree was on property where no one lived so we felt safe in picking up that fruit off the ground, perfectly ripe, to eat, the juice of which would run down our chins. On one of my first stays at the Lion Pool House I was thrilled to see that same tree and I stole one of its fruits and that's where the seed came from that my plant was born out of. The tree is no longer there and so that plant is all the more precious to me. 
So out came the dolly and first we moved in the sea grape and then the mango and I will rest easier, knowing they are safe from the cold. 
I moved a few more plants into the house before Glen got home and found places to nestle them. They may not be ideal locations, lacking in light as they are, but the plants can take a break and be rested up and ready to rumble when it's time to move them back out. The rest I wrapped using garbage bags and old bedding. I also wrapped the new limequat tree planted in the back yard as well as the little olive. 

One more thing I did was to take cuttings of some of the plants I love which are not being brought in. 

"Good luck, little ones!" Glen said as we left the porch where he'd helped me tuck in the plants. 
I offer the same words, along with the old southern expression, root hog, or die, which basically means you're on your own, Baby. 

I am feeling rather flat lately and this morning was no exception. I laid in bed for quite awhile, Maurice holding down the covers over me. I pondered the strange dreams I'd had, what the day ahead possibly had for me, the meaning of life and the question of why am I still here? 
Don't worry. I ask myself that question almost every morning of my life and as I did today, I always get up, I get dressed, I drink coffee, I work through the morning angst. Some days I think about Mr. Natural

And these days, R. Crumb's portrayal of the words of a hippie guru philosopher ring more true than ever. 

I've posted these exact same images and ruminations many, many times. Just as I've posted the story of my Roseland mango. And the story of the annual plant protection day. 

Just for fun I did a blog search for "Mr. Natural" and I'm even more depressed than I was. There are so many Mr. Natural posts and in reading some of them, I feel like I was a thousand times better writer than I am now. 

Speak the truth and shame the devil. I do not have the same brain I had ten or more years ago. 

Here's what we're having for supper. 

Sweet potato and black bean chili. 
I've also made a loaf of oatmeal bread, still in the oven, which promises to be as heavy as a door stop, as dense as a MAGAt's brain. 

Oh well. We will be nourished. 
Stay warm, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Is What Happened Today

Here we have Miss Sophie, Jessie's dog-daughter. When I go to Jessie's house on Wednesday mornings to pick her up for pottery, Sophie always comes to meet me with a wiggling body, a wagging tail, and some sort of stuffed animal in her mouth. Today it was a small pig and as always, she was so proud of it. Sophie is just the sweetest dog. She loves Jessie beyond measure and on the days when Jessie has worked the night before and needs to sleep during the day, Soph snuggles right in beside her. She is a good dog and she is a smart dog and she is incredibly well-behaved. At least compared to the dogs I've owned. We never picked dogs for their IQ's and it showed. 
Oh god but we've had some dumbass dogs. Please do not be offended if you love dogs and believe in your heart of hearts that all dogs not only go to heaven but also are all smart in their own way. I am sure that last part may be true but despite years of trying, I never discovered exactly where the smartness was to be located in our dogs.  
Well, except for the little Yorkie-Poo we had, named Queenie, who was the smartest, sweetest, most loving dog I've ever personally known. 

So back into the studio Jessie and I went this morning and I was sort of expecting to possibly see some changes. At least some new glazes. 
However.
No. 
I think there were a few different chairs. 
What we did see were some familiar faces and that was so nice. We only had one new person in the class and I could tell she was overwhelmed. She had never taken a pottery class in her life and boy, could I relate. But by the end of class she had, with the help of the teacher, made a very nice hand built mug and I think she probably has more confidence now or at least, a little more comfort in being there. We are a friendly group. 
One woman in our class looks like an Olympian athlete, as Jessie described her, and she sort of intimidates me although she is very nice. She is a machine in class. Today she threw seven bowls and every one of them was pretty perfect. Well, she had one blow-out bowl and by golly, she turned that into a pitcher with a pouring spout and it's beautiful. She is focused and determined and doesn't waste a minute of her studio time. 
As I said, she intimidates me but not in a threatening way. Just a I've-always-wanted-shoulders-and-arms-that-look-like-yours way. 
Also, her get to it attitude. 
Lizzie was back in class. It was SO good to see her. And Gail, our teacher, and a few other people for whom I have developed an affection for. And of course...Jessie. 
She was trying some interesting glazing things today and I can't wait to see how that turns out. Last session she bought a collection of 2 oz. bottles of a glaze called "Stroke and Coat." For some reason, Jessie and I are the only ones in the class who consider that name to be hilarious. But that's not the point. The point is that this glaze is true to the color it appears in the bottle, it comes out of the kiln very glossy, and you can actually use a brush to paint with it which I enjoy immensely. It comes in some very vibrant colors, too. That's what I used on my last flower bowl and fish. 
And it's food safe, which not all glazes are.

I'm going to order some of them too. 

And here's what I spent my two and a half hours on today. 

I am basing this project on the video I discussed yesterday and although mine will be different, I want to try and follow the potter's techniques in order to learn them. I tried very hard to take my time, to be intentional, to pay attention and not rush while still remembering that not only is perfection not possible, it's not what I'm even going for. I am looking forward to trying the technique of using small rolls of clay to delineate the leaves and petals as I talked about on yesterday's post to see how that works. 
So it was a good day at pottery and well worth getting up for before the sun had even peeped the top of its head over the horizon. Maurice was a bit perturbed that I was crawling from out of the covers so early but she just went back to sleep so it didn't worry her too much. 

After pottery Lily met Jessie and me at the restaurant/sports bar where I really love to eat although I always bitch about all the goddamn TV screens with, you know, sports on them. 
But... 

...here's a clue as to why I love it. The salad greens are fresh, the tuna is amazing, and the dressing is light and lovely. Also, the avocado is always at its peak serveability and the mandarin oranges and cabbage palm hearts send the whole thing up to a different stratosphere. 
Jessie and Lily always get Brussels Sprouts which I think is so funny. Who goes to a sports bar to eat Brussels Sprouts? Even more curious is the question of how many sports bars serve Brussels Sprouts? 
For all I know, Brussels Sprouts are standard fare at all sports bars along with hamburgers, fries, and chicken wings. 

And why is it Brussels Sprouts and not Brussel Sprouts? I mean, if they are sprouts from Brussels, wouldn't they be Brussels' Sprouts? 

Oh, who cares and who knows? 
Not me. 

Cold here and getting colder. Mr. Moon better get his butt home tomorrow in time to get my mango and sea grape safely in the house. The rest of the plants I will wrap and hope for the best but I will NOT be losing my Roseland plants. 
So sayeth the Lord. Or, to be more accurate, so sayeth me.

Love...Ms. Moon

Flowers And Fish- Here I Come

Pottery starts up again tomorrow morning and I spent a little time online today, looking at examples of both flower petal bowls and ceramic fish things, mostly platters and bowls. And what I mainly discovered is that I am far from being the first person to enjoy having fun playing with fishes. 

In case you've forgotten, here are what the two fish spoon rests I made look like. 

I hope to make a few more happy fish during this session, perhaps even some fish bowls. Not bowls you put fish in, but bowls made in the shape of fish. 
I'm sure you understand. 
In a way, I was almost indignant to see that my ceramic fish are not unique, but mine will be my own and no one else's. I wouldn't even mind doing a few that are meant to hang on a wall. I mean- I'd hang them on a wall but then again, I'm pretty famous in these parts for hanging anything on a wall. 

I also saw some beautiful flower petal bowls. One was a sunflower bowl and I watched the video of how it was made. 

The petals in this bowl are made not from different pieces of clay fit into the whole, but delineated by small rolls of clay attached and shaped so that the result looks as if they overlap each other. It doesn't seem to be a simple process and may, in fact, be more work than the way I made my last flower bowl wherein I made separate leaves to attach to the petals. 
We shall see. 

But the bottom line here is- I am excited to go back to the studio. I am so glad I was finally able to admit that throwing bowls and mugs and pots on the wheel is not going to be in my future, because once I gave that idea up, I was able to let myself go in other directions. That first little fish spoon rest was the product of having forty-five more minutes of a class in which everything I'd tried to do had been a huge disappointment and while looking in the molds cabinet for something to make a slump mold out of, I came across a regular spoon rest and for whatever reason, my mind went to fish. 
Ta-Da! 
And speaking of fish, I am cooking myself some salmon tonight with spinach and couscous. I am inordinately excited about this. Mr. Moon reports that he will be eating the same supper he had last night which looked like this.

Mer-made soup and a toasted English muffin with cheese. 
I am absolutely mystified at where the doily came from. 

Well, I better get at it. I have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow in order to pick up Jessie and get to pottery on time and that is not going to be easy as I have become evermore slothful each day since the beginning of the holidays. 

But it will be worth it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Could I Have Rambled Any Further? I Think Not

Poor old piano. It sits in my hallway and has for many years. My ex-husband gave it to us when Jessie was still living at home because she was showing such an interest and aptitude for music. The ex was (still is) a guitar player and he and his wife were getting rid of this piano which was very old and funky then and in need of tuning and in the sixteen or so years in which it's been sitting in the hallway it has gotten neither less funky or more in tune. I'll never forget when Jerry brought the piano over in a U-Haul he'd rented and he and Glen managed to get it into the house and in the hallway, he said, "Looks like it grew there," and it really sort of did and there it still sits. 

Since no one plays it except for me, very, very occasionally and extremely badly and haltingly, it mostly just holds pictures and the speakers from the stereo and the router for the internet. I keep my old student piano books on it and there's an ancient Methodist hymnal

although I have no idea why I've kept it. In fact, I'm not sure how it came into my possession to begin with, but it was probably my mother's and here's a clue. 

Although we never attended the Methodist Church in Roseland (which, by the way, is still a very growing concern with a connected thrift store where I shop every time I'm in Roseland), the one-time minister of that church, Denny Hendry, eventually started his own church which was the Roseland Gardens Community Church on the bank of the Sebastian River in a beautiful wooded spot and he did actually grow a rose garden. So I suppose Denny may have taken some of the hymnals with him and Mother sang in the choir and had the hymnal for practice and pleasure. We had a piano and she wasn't a bad piano player. I took lessons when we lived in Roseland but I showed no talent whatsoever and eventually, even Mother realized her money would be best spent NOT paying Hildred Mueller, my teacher, to screech and scream at me when I invariably hit the wrong notes and which, by the way, I still hit. The same exact ones. Hildred and her husband Harry had a little act together. Hildred and Harry, I think it was called. Could have been Harry and Hildred. Harry was a jolly little round man with a very large tummy and he sang while Hildred played and she may have sung too. I only saw them play once and that was at a PTA thing which for some reason had entertainment that night. 
How the hell did I get here? 
Piano. Things on piano. Hymnal being one. 
So yes, we attended the Roseland Gardens Community Church and of course my brother and I were bored out of our minds but at least there were giant jalousie windows to look out of and if the preacher and/or the choir weren't too loud, we could hear birds and the wind in the pine trees and that was pretty okay. I swear to you though, almost every page of that hymnal has a song on it I remember and every fucking one of them is an ear worm. 

Since we've made it this far, I'll go ahead and repeat something I know I've written about at least five or ten times which is that eventually, after Denny Hendry crashed his church and lost his wife due to an unwise affair with another church's organist (no jokes here, please), the church and land were eventually sold to a spiritual community led by a former Jewish Brooklyn housewife named Joyce Green, rechristened Ma Jaya Sati Bagavati. 

It is now the Kashi Ashram. Arlo Guthrie was one of the devotees of Ma Jaya, which is why he has wintered in the communities of Sebastian and Roseland for many years. Ma Jaya died in 2012 and as is so often the case with spiritual leaders of all kinds, including ministers for Community Churches, there were allegations...
And far more serious ones than a plain old affair with a consenting adult. 

I have no idea if Arlo is still associated with the Ashram. I do know that he still seems to love that area very much. 

But isn't all of that odd? What would the little group of older, retired people who attended Denny's church in the early sixties, most of whom probably had no real belief in religion but who believed that going to church on Sunday was just what one did and a way to be part of a community have thought about all this?

My memories of that place were of watching manatee slowly swimming by in the river, of the smell of roses, of those many pines and palms, of Helen Kretshmer, the choir director at the piano, her white hair pinned up in a knot on top of her head, the sweet little congregation who often all went out together to Sunday lunch after church was over, the Christmas pageants where I once got to be Mary, the soprano with the huge breasts who sang "Where You There?" on Easter Sunday whom my little brother had stood motionless and watched as those breasts quivered as she emoted the words to the song during rehearsal, the gentle sermons which never once, as far as I can remember, mentioned hell or an angry god. 

It's bizarre to know that none of the people who pay big bucks to visit Kashi for yoga training or spiritual retreats have any idea about these things although perhaps they do still get to see the manatee.
Sigh. 
Such is life. 

Enough of this nonsense! 

Mr. Moon is back up at Lake Seminole and tonight he is catching huge catfish and is very happy. I made chicken soup for him to take with some rotisserie chicken I bought last week and some chicken stock I had in the freezer AND another container of chicken soup I'd tucked away in there a month or so ago, thus fulfilling my purpose on earth which, as we all know, is to take leftovers and create more leftovers out of them. The soup has quinoa and the chicken, green beans, carrots, kale and mustard greens, garlic galore, onions, celery, spinach, and lots of lemon juice. 
Once again, my man shall not suffer from hunger. 

It's going to get so cold this week, possibly 26 degrees by Friday. For us, this is almost frighteningly cold. The plants will have to be wrapped again and there are a few that I'm going to ask Glen to help me bring in despite their large size because I don't think the wrapping alone is going to protect them. 

Here's a door knob Glen found while digging the trench for the water pipe. 

I am wondering if it came from this house or from the little Episcopalian chapel that was once housed in that area of the yard. 

Speaking of churches. 
When the congregation dropped to two members, they moved the chapel to Tallahassee where it still sits right beside an Episcopalian church there. 
St. Clement's Chapel. 
The woman who told me this who grew up in Lloyd and who is now deceased, seemed to still be upset that the chapel had been moved. 

No one can hold a grudge like an old Southern lady. 

Ask me how I know. (That is MY river, you Gee Dee Kashi's!)

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Now I remember what triggered this whole thing! I sat down at that piano and played badly and haltingly this afternoon and I loved it. 

A Full And Loving Day

Well, it has begun. These two beauties were growing on the very large bush beside the back porch where I have a veritable grove of camellias. They are not quite white, but a very, very pale blush pink. Or at least, that's what I see. They are always some of the best bloomers. I really should make more of an attempt this year to identify the different varieties. I am as excited to see the different ones open as I would be to see old and dear friends. 

It's been a good day. I was so very, very emotional when I got up. I know I'm an easy cryer, but this morning, there was almost nothing that didn't make me cry. Three different blog posts welled my tears to overflowing. I have no idea why but eventually, my heart returned to its natural size and function, and the tears went back to wherever they had come from. 

When Mr. Moon got home from duck hunting, instead of settling into his chair for his usual Sunday catch-up nap as he usually does, he went out to where the sink is going to go and began to dig the trenches he needs to lay the water pipe. 
Now this is not an easy job. The ground there is filled with roots, some of them as big around as my arm. Add to that, due to his neuropathy, he cannot stand in one spot to use a shovel so the man sat on his butt and shoveled from that position. And...he worked for hours. There is no holding him back. I know he's tired this evening though. 
Obviously, I could not just spend my day being lazy and useless and so I decided to bow to the inevitable and do a little housecleaning. My kitchen floor had gotten to the point where the spot cleaning I'd been doing with a rag and a spray bottle of Fabuloso, white vinegar, and water was just about useless. The other day when it was quite warm, I was barefoot and I realized I had indeed passed the point at which the state of that floor was unacceptable, as in my feet were sticking to it. 
And to add to that, I realized I had not mopped Mr. Moon's bathroom in god only knows how long and so I proceeded to clean his bathroom sink as well as my bathroom sink, including pulling up the plugs and cleaning off all the hair and gook, including dusting the wood of the vanity his sink is set in with some furniture polish and cleaning the mirror, and then I swept the floor and gave it a good mopping. I also washed the rug that goes in there. Then I proceeded to the kitchen where I removed the bar stools, the trash cans, the step ladder, the laundry hamper I keep in there, the shoes kept by the kitchen door, and all of the other stuff where I needed to mop. I gave it two sweepings and then two moppings and it would gladly have taken another but let's not lose our minds here, okay? 
That felt good. 
And now my house smells like Fabuloso and white vinegar which is therapeutic for me in and of itself. 

So this has not been a wasted day, or at least not entirely, and I feel as if yes, I have created a more peaceful environment for us to enjoy, for a few hours, at least. 

***************

Do any of you remember me writing about Smitty's Club? I first wrote about it on June 26, 2008 which would have made it seventeen years ago, right? Or thereabouts. 
I wrote another post about Smitty's Club and the era in which it and Smitty played a such a big part of our lives and when I say "our" I mean our tribe, I guess, the hippies and musicians and pot growers and carpenters and roofers and artists of Tallahassee and Jefferson County who were trying to figure it all out in a new way, sometimes stumbling, sometimes succeeding, but always with community and music. And Smitty's Club was very much a part of all of that. Here's a picture from that post. 

That was Smitty's Band at Smitty's Club. There were other folks in the picture, but I feel like if you are of a similar age to me, you will recognize them from the days of your tribe too because in so many ways, we were all from the same tribe. 
The tribe that was trying to change the world. 
Anyway. 
That post can be found HERE but I must tell you, I write in it about the death by suicide of one of the people in that picture so if that is more than you want to deal with, don't read it. Just don't. 
It's part of my life, my history, those times, but it may have nothing for you except a trigger and I do not want anyone to go through that. 

So. What brought all this back to me? 

I was going through the FaceBook reels which I spend WAY too much time on, and this one came up. 

Smitty's son, Mac, is selling cane syrup and I love it. I believe Mac is calling himself Smitty now and probably has been for awhile. When his daddy was alive, he would not have dared to call himself Smitty but I guess it's okay now. He, his own son and wife, are standing to the left of Smitty who is in the center of the picture. 
I do love cane syrup and always have a bottle in my refrigerator. It's the very best thing you can eat on a biscuit or cornbread. I just went to the website where you can order it and it's all sold out. It cost thirty five dollar a bottle which, I'm sorry, is insane. You can buy cane syrup around here for far less money although that too is pricier than any of the folks who began planting cane and ground it every fall to make syrup would have believed.

To them, this was just a way to make sugar, albeit in a less refined way. There are many online sources of information about this and I'll let you check them out if you want. I've already linked enough. 

Here's a lagniappe picture of something else blooming right now. 

The roses are having a winter frolic. I wish you could smell them. 

I better get in that clean-floored kitchen and make some supper. We're having what I told my husband is some "dang tacos." 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I have to say that Mac could make a trillion dollars selling the land he inherited from his father and I am a bit blown away that instead, he's using it to farm. His daddy was the same. 

So good for him.