In Which I Totter And Dodder Through My Day

That is the only picture I have taken so far today. I've been having Christmas and Thanksgiving Cactus envy and when I saw a display of them budded up at Publix for about three dollars, I bought one. I have killed every other one of those things I've ever had but I'm going to repot it and then ignore it and see how that goes. 

I can barely remember what I did today. It being Friday we can assume I washed sheets. I did something I don't usually do which is was to put different sheets on the bed than the ones I took off and laundered. When I made up Ms. T. Joy's bed last week, I used the "good" sheets which are so soft and yet crisp and delicious and that reminded me of how much I do love good bedding. Lately I've been getting mine at Costco which is fine, the sheets are very adequate if a little skimpy when it comes to the width of the top sheet but they're just not that...mmmmm...you know. I only have two sets of the higher quality sheets which are both years and years old and I put one of the sets on the bed today and I have made a vow that I will absolutely be buying another set in January when the white sales happen.

If I don't spend all my money on new overalls and Crocs. 

I also washed my porch tablecloth and that always feels good. I don't do it nearly enough. Mostly what gets on it is cat hair and dead insects and the occasional spider poops. 
Yes. Spiders poop. 
Here's a picture I just took of Maurice perched beside the MacBook on it.

Remember when I got this tablecloth at Goodwill? Why would anyone want to get rid of it? I don't know but I'm glad they did. 

I went back to Publix and also to Costco today. I was almost out of Temptations which Maurice would not stand for. Also I wanted to get cranberries and an orange and pecans for the Thanksgiving cranberry relish. Plus I got other stuff. I think I am becoming a food hoarder. That must be a thing, right? 
It's not completely out of hand yet but let's just say my freezer is full and the pantry is close to that. I really need to not buy anything else until we've eaten through a lot of what we have. I don't know why I've become this person. I've always had enough to eat except for a few periods of time back in the old, old days and that was never very serious. I did learn, however, that sweet and sour garbanzo beans are not very good. 
Lesson learned. 
So I don't know where this compulsion to always have a lot of food on hand comes from. I'm not even eating that much these days! I really need to pay attention and not get as crazy about it as I could.

So remember on Wednesday when I felt so good because one woman called me "pretty lady" and another woman told me how much she loved my overalls? 
Well, I came crashing back down to reality today when I had not one but TWO people ask me if I needed help. One at Costco, one at Publix. 
Excuse me? 
The situation at Costco was that I had self-scanned my items and was loading them back into the cart. All had gone well. I tapped my card in the right place. I'd even remembered to take my receipt. But as I was putting the stuff in my cart I noticed a cart in front of me parked in the snack bar part of the place which had at least thirty pounds of bananas in it. I guess I was studying those bananas pretty closely, wondering why someone would buy that many bananas and figuring maybe they had a smoothie business or a restaurant where they made a lot of banana pudding or a bakery where they made banana bread. Something. 
But as I was pondering, the woman whose cart it was asked, "Do you need some help?" I thought I'd misheard her. And then I thought she was really asking me why the hell I was so fascinated by her bananas but when I said, "I'm sorry, excuse me?" she said "Do you need help?" again and she sounded very sincere. 
"Uh, no. But thank you," I said and wheeled on out of there. There wasn't even anything heavy in my cart. I told Jessie about this and she suggested that I may have had a look of bewilderment look on my face. That perhaps I have resting puzzled face. This was news to me. I told her that I thought it was more of a curiosity face. That I PONDER things. She agreed this could be true, meanwhile probably updating her research on care facilities.  
The other incident happened when I was reaching for some espresso on a top shelf at Publix. I wasn't having any damn problem at all getting that coffee off the shelf when a woman, who was not young herself, said, "Would you like me to get that for you?"
What the fucking fuck?
I'M the one who asks people if they need help. I'm the young and spry one. Right? RIGHT?
Jesus. 

Oh well. People just trying to be kind and help the elderly. 
But I do admit it that it hurt my pride a little and I need to get the fuck over that because I will be needing help at some point and when that happens, I hope it's as graciously offered.
I'm not really as nice as that last sentence makes me sound. 

Here's a picture of Mr. Moon. 

He really is a handsome man. 
He's having a wonderful time, tromping through the snow, being happy. But he does say he misses me. 

He probably misses his bed and his cat and his chair, too. But hopefully, he misses me the most. 

And that's it for tonight. I'm going to make a pizza-like dish with leftover naan dough as a base, some roasted tomatoes, pesto, artichoke hearts, etc., etc on it. I will eat it with fresh garden greens on top. 
I think it will not suck. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

My Hands Grow Witchier Every Day

I caught that picture of a dancing rainbow when I turned on the sprinklers in the garden today. It's as perfect a rainbow as I think I've ever seen, all the colors of Roy G. Biv identifiable. We are still so dry here with no rain in the forecast until a week from tomorrow and we all know that's an iffy proposition to predict this far out. I really do not want to lose my winter greens for lack of water. They are by far the hardiest plants we grow in the garden but even they need some help and attention. 

I spent some time outside today, doing a few little things. I hauled the cardboard and paper products out to the burn pile, making more room in my pantry because that's where we stash those things. I unwrapped the plants I wrapped on Monday and then I watered them too. We are back to more temperate temperatures here for awhile, at least. While I was on the porch I decided to sweep it and so I did. That gave me a lot of pleasure. As I was sweeping, I heard a "Hey! Hey!" and a neighbor from down the road was walking by. I think his name is John Henry. He's a cheerful fellow and if he sees me in the yard, he always stops for a word or two. Today he told me, after pleasantries had been exchanged, that my house needs painting and that he knows how to do that.
"I know," I said. "Talk to my husband." 
"What's his name?" Mr. Henry asked. 
Ooh boy. I know for sure that Glen is not going to hire some guy as old as he is to paint this house and beside that, there's so much work to be done before the first brushstroke. And no, we have not heard from Floyd for quite awhile.
Sigh.
Anyway, I quickly said that we had someone lined up to paint which was sort of a lie but sort of not because Floyd had mentioned that his sister has her own painting company and I'd love to use her if possible so...

Maurice followed me around outside as she does, suddenly appearing as if by magic, always acting as if she had no interest in what I was doing but merely happened to be in the same place at the same time as I was.

She has been sticking close to me, even following me into the bathroom when I get up in the middle of the night to pee. I am grateful for her concern but I am capable of finding my way there and back in the dark. I feel as if I truly have a familiar these days and realize how and why that word came to be associated with the cats of older women. 
Old women. Witches. Whatever. I raise my gnarled hand in solidarity. 

The oddest thing I did today was to online shop. I ordered two more pairs of Duluth's heirloom gardening overalls in different colors than I have now and in a smaller size. Overalls which are too big are not really a problem. I mean- they are, by definition, a fashion faux pas so who cares? 
Then, because all of my denim overalls are actually WAY too big to wear, I ordered a pair of Levi's overalls and while I was at it, I ordered a pair of their jeans but I am almost certain they will not fit. If I think I am going to lose enough weight to wear them eventually, I will keep them. If not, I will send them back without one regret or feeling of inadequacy. I promise. 
And THEN, because I have made peace with Crocs, I ordered another pair of those. Jessie and I laughed yesterday when Lily pointed out that we were ALL three wearing Crocs. I know they are the ugliest shoes ever invented but they are also the most comfortable shoes ever invented. For me, at least. I will wear the ones I have worn for several years now at home and my new ones will be for fancy stuff. 
Well. Going out in public. 

And all of that was a lot. Of money, yes, but I do not feel guilty in this instance for spending it on myself. Of energy- also yes, because it is hard for me to spend money on myself. 
Fuck it. Mr. Moon gets hunting trips, I get new overalls and Crocs. 
Fair is fair. 

A man I've known for about fifty years died yesterday. We were not close in any way, shape, or form, but he made a more recent appearance in my life when Lily and Jason moved to the house where Maggie was born and where Jason is living now because this man lived on the same road. 
I talked to his former wife today on the phone. They have not been married for so many years but remained very, very good friends and she has been one of the main people taking care of him throughout the past many years when he has been sick. As she told me today, "You know I would do anything for Lee."
And she would. 
And she did.
One of the things that has really stayed with me about him is that he told me once that he'd just been on tour with the Rolling Stones. This was at least thirty years ago. He said he had been their weed man and I believe it. He was a grower, not only of weed but of garlic and basil and many other things. He and the dirt had a very good relationship.  I've always wanted to ask him for more details on being on tour with the Stones but never had the chance. I know he did say something about Keith Richards and what a wild man he was. 
I have no doubt. 
I am sorry Lee is gone but he is no longer suffering. He has been released. Sounds like he had a good death, surrounded by people who loved him, whom he loved. We would all wish for that, I think.

As we get old, we go through this more and more- the loss of people we have known, some of them very dear to us, some of them mainly old acquaintances whose stories are intertwined with ours. In a way, it feels like pieces of ourselves are being peeled away, leaving us more vulnerable somehow as the members of what was once our community leave us. 
It is a strange and sad feeling but it is also part of being human. This is how it goes. 

*********

Commenter Beverly asked if I could post the recipe I use for the naan bread and so I shall. I originally got this recipe from the New York Times recipe and cooking app but you can find it other places online. 
The link for one of those places is HERE.
I have found it to be adaptable. If you don't have yogurt, you can use buttermilk or sour cream, for example. Also, instead of making and kneading the dough as instructed, I put all the ingredients in the food processor and just pulse it until it is lovely. 
Lazy? Hell yes. 
Does it work? Quite well. 

Tonight I believe I will cook some salmon and quinoa and asparagus with a salad to go with. When I talked to Mr. Moon a few hours ago, he told me that he'd been the cook for the guys last night and they voted his dinner the best so far. 
He had ordered a calzone in a restaurant for lunch which had been huge. He only ate a small part of it, brought it back to the cabin, heated that up and divided it into fourths and made a salad with many, many vegetables in it. 
I am proud of him. 

Picture from my front yard.

Florida. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Talk Too Much

Pottery day starts early. The class begins at 9:30 but no one cares if you come in late. So there's really no pressure but you do want to take advantage of all the hours in the studio you are given. So I get up at 7:00 and attend to my needs and my rituals before I leave for town around 8:40, usually. It takes maybe a half hour to get to Jessie's and I like to talk to her sweet pup, Sophie, for a minute and Jessie's usually still getting ready and cleaning up her kitchen. Of course she's already gotten up, made sure the boys are fed and appropriately dressed for the weather and gotten to school before I get there. 
Did I used to do that every day? 
Yes. Yes I did. 
Do I know how I did it?
No. No I do not. 
I was running a little behind this morning and I blame that on the weather. It was freezing (literally) when I got up and at first I dressed in whatever was at hand and warm and then later I had to change into something warm but that was presentable for town although there are no dress codes at pottery. This morning I wore my blue overalls, a black thermal shirt with a very, very lovely and lime green sweater (re-sale shop cashmere!) over it, and a practically antique black velvet coat. 
With Crocs.
I told Jessie that I looked like an illustration on how NOT to shop at thrift stores for your outfits. 

Oh well. Who cares? Not me.

I spent the entire two and a half hours in class working on the latest flower bowl I'm trying to make that I started last week. My idea for the formation of it is not bad but my ability to translate that vision into an actual piece that will withstand the heat of the kiln and look halfway decent is not up to speed on what I'm seeing in my head. So I rolled out clay and I cut out shapes and I scored the pieces I needed to stick together and I tried to stick them together with what is called "slip" which is a mixture of clay and water that is like a glue if done correctly. 
Oh, y'all. 
Well. We'll see what the mess looks like next week. It may or may not be worthy of glazing and firing. All will be revealed. 

Jessie worked on the bowls she made last week, trimming them. That is an entire process itself and must be done with care and attention. I think she did an amazing job. 

Lizzie was there and she reported that she and her gentleman friend had a wonderful time on their trip to New York and that she really enjoyed meeting his family. Another woman in the class asked her if she'd said the word. 
Now I thought the word was love because I'm a romantic in many ways but no, the word had been fuck and yes, she did say that word but the world did not end nor did the family shun her. 
Hurray! Success!

After class we met Lily at an Indian restaurant and had a very good lunch. We talked and talked, as we do, and many topics were covered. We even started to discuss Thanksgiving but we didn't get very far with that one. I'm sure by the time the day rolls around, we will have figured it out. 

After lunch I did something I should NOT have done which was to go to Old Navy which was almost right across the street from the restaurant with the goal in mind of finding a pair of jeans that fit. I say I should NOT have done that because there is nothing that can make you feel as if despite the fact that you have lost a good amount of weight, you still are not at the jeans-wearing stage. 
Dammit but I hate still having feelings like this at the age of 71. So that sucked. And it's all so ridiculous and relative. One moment I'm feeling somewhat svelte and sylph-like and the next I'm, well, not feeling somewhat svelte and sylph-like. 

On to the bank to drop off some documents where a lady probably about my age stopped me and said, "I LOVE your coveralls! I really, really do!" 
I asked her if she'd like to know where I got them and she definitely did and so I told her. I gave her my little speech about how durable they are, how handy all the pockets are, how well made they are. If I got a commission every time I sent someone to Duluth Trading Company, I'd have a nice little bit of pocket change. 
Alas, I do it all for love. 

I needed to go stop by Publix and I did, and the sweetest thing that happened there was a woman called me "pretty lady" and I said, "NO! You're the pretty lady!" And she was. 

Lord knows I needed those two encounters after the devastating reality of trying on jeans in an actual dressing room in an actual retail store and I am so grateful for them.

Glen sent me pictures of the Aurora Borealis last night. 

 I discovered this morning there is a real possibility that if I'd gone outside right here last night, I might have seen them too. 

Looks like shit's going down in Washington tonight. I won't even try to predict what this release of the Epstein files is going to mean. Every bit of what's happened in the past few years has exceeded any of the wildest imaginings I could have had and I have a pretty good imagination. Then again, I never would have predicted that the Aurora Borealis could be observed from Florida either.

Here's the soup I made last night. 

And naan bread to go with. Making soup and bread keep me grounded. Or at least within range of grounded. Almost. Sort of. 

Better than nothing. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Quite A Day

I knew the gas company was sending someone out today to fill our propane tank but I wasn't sure when. The owner of the company assured me that the guy had my number and would call. 
Well, he did. He called at 9:00 a.m. sharp to tell me he was in my yard. 
Ooh boy. 
I was still in bed with Maurice. I was awake, but luxuriating in being under the warm covers and loathe to get up. Why does the bed feel so amazing when we wake up in the morning? Ten times better than it does when we get under the covers at night and that feels pretty damn good already. 
So what do I say to the man on the phone? I said, "Whoa! In my yard? I'll be RIGHT there!" 
And I leapt out of the bed, put on some clothes, tried to smooth my hair down a bit, and didn't even brush my teeth or wash my face and darted for the side yard where a very tall and also large man beside a propane truck held out his hand and said, "I'm KC." 
"I'm Mary," I said, and we shook hands like I'd been up since before dark, gathering my hand-shaking strength.
He'd never been here before and so I had to show him where the tank was. When we were walking over there I said to him, "I'm not gonna lie. I was still in bed when you called."
He laughed and said, "You recovered well."
I asked him if he'd like a cup of coffee and he said he would if it wasn't too much trouble. Four sugars and four creams. Okay! 
He filled the tank and I finished my morning face and teeth rituals and pulled my hair back and put it up and by the time I was finished, he was rolling up the hose. He wrote up my invoice and thanked me for the coffee and I thanked him profusely and, just to make conversation I said, "Do you think it really froze last night?"
"I don't know," he said, "But I'm from the Bahamas and I'm fucking freezing!"
Well, you know me. He had long, long covered dreds and a braided knotted beard that he tugged at and I just felt so at ease with him. All the guys who've ever delivered gas here have been almost wordless, most of them sullen, obviously not loving their jobs or their lives and obviously having no desire in this world to have any sort of conversation with me. But this is a different company, one we've never used, and I do believe it's going to be a different story. 
Next thing you know, he's telling me about his grandmother, 106 years old who walks to the fields every day and works in the fields every day and doesn't limp and doesn't have any problems with stiffness or pain and claims to feel just like she did when she was a girl. I told him that science needs to study his granny. 
He asked me where I was from and I told him I'd lived in Florida since I was five and he said, "But where are you FROM?" I explained that my parents were from Chattanooga, Tennessee and when he asked me how I came to live in Florida I told him the briefest version of how my mother had left my father when I was five and we'd moved to Florida where her parents lived. 
"So they got divorced and everything?"
"Yes."
"Did you see your father after that?"
"No. Well, I saw him once when I was thirty."
He was amazed and horrified. "But you were his daughter!"
And that's when, at 9:30 a.m. I started to cry and he pulled me in to one of those big men hugs and said, "I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry."
I told him that yes, it was sad, but that I'd found a wonderful man who has been a great father to our children and he approved of that. 
Turns out he moved to Melbourne, Florida when he was young to attend school and that's where he learned to play football and hone his basketball skills because he had been playing that all his life. Now, Melbourne is about fifteen miles from Roseland and of course he knew where Roseland was. He went to FSU and played ball there. I think football. 

Anyway, that is how my day started out and before he left he apologized again for making me cry and again I told him that's okay, I cry easy, and I came away feeling like I'd been given a gift and I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

Then the next thing I knew, Lis called me! Good Lord! Could things get any better? 

I've spent the rest of the day like I said I would. I did laundry, I folded laundry. I enjoyed folding laundry on the folding table Glen made me so much with the sun coming in that window, shining through the stained glass my friend Lynn made and my treasures on the windowsill and bathing my nursery plants with light that I decided to bring out all the contents of my underwear drawer and refold and organize it all. I also threw away the stuff that has obviously outlived its wear-by date. I didn't even save anything to use as rags because I already have enough rags to last the rest of my life, even if I live to be a hundred and six years old like K.C.'s granny. I picked salad greens and I got an answer to my question as to whether it froze last night. 

The African basil is as dead as dead can be. A few bees were still flying around the blooms though, seemingly dazed and confused as to where their source of nectar had gone. The greens and lettuces were fine, of course, and I have enough of those picked for at least two salads. 

I did some mending and button-sewing-on and I just did a lot of little things that I've been meaning to get around to. 
My soup is ready to be puréed and add the coconut milk to, and I have enough dough rising to make a few naan breads.  

On top of all that, it's been a beautiful day. Cold, but so crisp, so clear, so intensely blue-skied. 

We do have leaves that turn color here. 

The mulberry tree. 

Look up. Look up. 

Magnolia Grandiflora. 

Pottery tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Don't Say Good-Bye, Say "See You Soon"

This is what I am interpreting as Maurice looking at me with eyes of love. She seemed to be very glad I was back and even took to Terry who spent the night with me because her flight home was today. And that gave us another 24 hours to visit and be together which was just about the most precious gift I could ever imagine. When Terry and I were in nursing school, I was twenty-eight and she was eighteen. And we bonded like Elmer's mixed with Gorilla Glue. I still remember the exact moment I first saw her and thought, "I want to be her friend."

All the girls used to come over to my house because I HAD a house with a coffee pot, and a table to put our notes and books on, and there was generally food in the refrigerator due to the fact that I had children and children must be fed. And we studied together many, many nights and we drank pots and pots of coffee and we talked and we laughed and sometimes when the moon and sun were in favorable positions and I could get a baby-sitter, we'd put it all aside and gussie-up, again at my house, do our make-up, change clothes fifty times apiece until we were satisfied (or at least reasonably so) with our appearances, and we'd go to a local college dive called Bullwinkles that had the best bands and we would dance and dance and dance and flirt and literally let down our hair and those nights were joyous. 
And that is how we got through nursing school. 
Occasionally, someone would spend the night at my house if we were studying late and before long, it seemed that my Terry had just about moved in which suited me fine. I loved that girl to pieces and she needed some love, her upbringing not being the most loving. I mothered her along with my own kids and although she was the toughest of all of us and vastly more experienced than all of us in taking care of actual people in a medical situation due to very early employment, she let me mother her. 
And this weekend she let me do that again and it felt just like it had when she was eighteen and I was twenty-eight. The room we shared on St. George has two teeny-tiny beds and it's a teeny-tiny room and we'd turn out the light and fall asleep as unselfconsciously and as comfortably as could be. 
And having her here last night was just a sort of continuation of that. She is now the mother of three and quite possibly the best mother in the world, and she has a beautiful granddaughter whom she is besotted with but dammit, I needed to mother her some more and we slipped into our old roles. I cooked her a terrific supper and by then we were both worn out and she got into her bed in the guest room that I'd made up to be as cozy and comfortable as possible, and I got in my bed where Maurice joined me and gave me those looks of love. 

And then, sigh, that damn cat left the bed and I do believe went outside and came back into the room making her "I have brought you meat, my little kitten!" squeaky noises and there was something going on with the closet door and I just laid there going, "Oh my Jesus. No."
I almost turned on the light but I couldn't see what in the world that would help. Best to ignore the whole situation and finally, she got back in bed and went back to sleep. I had no idea if she'd brought me a living animal or a dead one but I wasn't going to worry about it then. 
This morning I did look and found nothing but if she'd brought in a living critter, it could be hiding in the closet and please god, no. 

I am so mad that I didn't get any pictures of Terry in my house. SO mad. And then later on we went into town and stopped by Lily's work so they could see each other. Terry was at Lily's birth. I didn't get a picture of the two of them, either. And then we went to Kool Beanz, the best restaurant in Tallahassee, as far as I'm concerned, with Jessie. Terry had met Jessie and Vergil when they were first dating as they had stayed with Terry and her family in Denver. So that was a sweet reunion catch-up. And I kept thinking, "Get a picture. Get a picture of Terry and Jessie" and I did not remember and I could slap myself for the missed opportunities.  

Off to the airport we drove, Terry and I, and I dropped her off and cried like a baby and just thinking about it makes me cry again. 
She is one of mine and she is a sister and she is a friend of over forty years, and I not only love her, I admire her in every way. She holds a place in my heart that no one else ever has or ever will. It is eternally hers. 

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

It has been absolutely cold here today. Cold like where Terry, from Colorado, was saying, "It's so cold!" She talked to one of her sons who told her it was 76 F there or something and it didn't get above 57 F here today and I swear to you- it has felt much colder. It's supposed to get down to 29 degrees by six tomorrow morning and you know what that means- do something to protect the plants! 
First thing I did this morning was to cut a bunch of stems of the firespike. 

It's in peak full bloom but probably won't be after tomorrow. I put the cut stems in vases of water and they will reward me by early spring by having grown lovely, lovely roots and I will have that many more of them to plant. 
NOT INVASIVE! 
But what about all of my other tender porch plants and my Roseland mango and Roseland palms and Roseland sea grapes and Roseland coconut palm? 
I wrapped the ones too big to bring in and am hoping that will save them. It probably will. I did the same for the porch plants but the smaller ones that I could carry, I brought in and then Jessie and the boys came out to get the meat grinder and helped me with some of the heavier ones. 

There are others, tucked here and there but those are the hallway plants. Mostly. 

I got a few pictures of the boys while they were here. 

Yesterday was Levon's 8th birthday although I've been saying he was turning 7 which is absurd. Why do I keep understating or overstating birthday years? I hadn't gotten him a present yet because I wasn't doing my grandmother job so I found a card I already had that was almost appropriate and tucked a bit of money in it. He liked that. August asked me if I'd read them a book and I certainly liked that. He picked a Richard Scarry book I used to read to them when they were little guys. It is way too young for them now but they still love it. 

One of the presents Levon got for his birthday was a necklace Jessie and I found at T.J. Maxx. Levon loves to wear bling. 

And as we all know, he loves basketball with all his heart.

Is that a cool necklace or what? 
He also got a basketball hoop for his birthday and I think that's his favorite present. He can practice shooting hoops for hours. 

Mr. Moon seems to be having a fine time. There is snow up in Canada where he is. 

Tomorrow is a full day at home and I plan on doing laundry, getting things tidied up, and making a curried squash, sweet potato, and cashew soup. I am looking forward to all of that. 

I feel the absence of Terry but the thought of her being reunited with her kids, her husband, and her darling granddaughter makes me happy. She promised me she'd be back. We ladies will NOT let four years go by again without getting together. They are all my sisters and my love for them surpasses understanding. 
And of course I miss my own husband but knowing that he's doing something that brings him happiness makes it all worthwhile. And of course, I have Maurice who loves me so much that she will murder for me. 

Who could ask for more than that?

Love...Ms. Moon

I Am Humbled

 

I'm home. 
It was as perfectly perfect as it could be. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pretty Woman, Pretty Bowls, Pretty Crazy, Pretty Thrilled About Yesterday's Election Results

 

Y'all- this is my pottery friend, Liz. Well, Lizzie. I asked her today if I could take her picture with that bowl for the blog and she said I could. She visits here at blessourhearts and I thought it was time to introduce her and it makes me happy to do so.

That bowl just knocked me over. Here's a closer look.

Remember how I said that the bowl she painted with dogs running on it reminded me of cave paintings a little? Do you see what I mean? Such simplicity of line and yet so much movement in those lines. And get this- she never made drawings like this before she found an under-glazing pen which is what she uses to make them on her bowls. 
One more picture of her. 

No further words necessary. 

It was a good day in pottery despite the fact that the flower bowl I'd started two weeks ago was understandably too dry to work on and to add to that, had cracked in half before even being fired. 
Oh well. I started another bowl and I did everything I could to make sure it's still soft enough to work with next week because it is not done. 

But Jessie? That girl found her groove on the wheel. She sat down and threw seven beautiful bowls, one right after the other. 

As she was leaning over the wheel, shaping her bowls, I said, "Oh Jessie! You look like a potter!"
And she did and she is. 

I got to have another one of those women heart-talks today with the woman sitting beside me working on her own project. My god but I do love to hear people's stories. I am constantly amazed and in awe of the strength of women when they simply tell me about their lives. I know I've quoted this many times but as Yoko Ono said, "Everyone has a story to tell."
Amen. 

Glen is all packed to head back up to Canada tomorrow morning and I hope for his sake that the planes are still flying. I hope for MY sake that if they are, they still will be when it's time for him to come home. I guess that after yesterday's big fuck-you to the orange would-be-dick-tator and the entire Republican party, Trump is doubling down on his cruelties, refusals to negotiate, and insane demands. Not to mention his lies and ridiculous claims of voter fraud. Have we not heard that one enough already?
This is all going to take a while to figure out as even his own minions are not too stupid to see which way the wind may be blowing. 

I tried to start packing for the beach and I swear- I have some severe mental problems with that. I think I believe that if I pack for every eventuality I will have more control over a situation which is out of my comfort zone. Which is ridiculous. Two of our number mostly live in athleisureware and they have NICE athleisureware and another of us favors sweat pants and t-shirts while I, of course, have zero sweatpants and no athleisureware but a lot of pairs of overalls and also Goodwill cashmere and a few linen shirts and aquamarine dresses that are probably going to be too summery for the cooler temperatures. I have one pair of pants that fit fine and some shirts, of course, most fairly ancient. To add to the whole situation, the temperatures now go from quite chilly in the morning to nice and warm in the afternoon. 
What I am saying here is- I probably do not need to take the silk velvet jacket that Lis gave me, do I?
If I took one pair of overalls and those black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and a short-sleeved shirt, that would be enough, along with underwear and a real jacket. And a nightgown. And a few sweaters. And...

Let's not even get into shoes. Beat to shit crocs and flip flops? That's pretty much what I have. 

And no matter how much I tell myself that none of this will matter in the least, I still lose my mind over it. I KNOW IT WON'T MATTER. I KNOW IT DOESN'T MATTER! So please do not bother telling me what I already know. It will not help. 

I may not take my MacBook to the island. And even if I do, I might not open it. I feel certain the planet will continue to spin around the sun even if I don't. 
Imagine that! 

See you soon. Or, maybe a bit later.

Love...Ms. Moon