Well. This Day Took A Turn

Well, damn. 

We just spent about three hours at the above place with Maurice. 
I noticed yesterday that she hadn't come and demanded her treats at the regular time or at all, in fact. I knew that was not normal in the least but didn't give it much thought until both Glen and I realized we hadn't seen her at all for the entire afternoon and when we went to bed we still didn't know where she was. I worried about her off and on all night. She didn't come and get in bed with me and I missed that little body. 
First thing this morning I asked Glen if he'd seen her and he said that yes, she was just sleeping in the old cradle in the guest room where she likes to snuggle up with some dolls and stuffed animals who live there. I was so relieved that I actually teared up. I went and checked on her and she appeared to be very, very sleepy and I didn't bother her. We figured that maybe she was just luxuriating in the heat being back on. But when she hadn't moved by three-thirty, I picked her up and carried her outside. She just sat there for quite awhile, looking around. Finally she seemed to pull herself together and walked very slowly over to the camellia bed and had a little pee and scratched over where she'd gone and then she walked to the back steps to the laundry room and climbed them and laid down in the sun and went back to sleep. I tried to give her some of her lickable treats which she is a fool for but she wasn't interested and I set out water but she ignored that too. 
And I knew something was very wrong. 

I figured I should get her to a vet but by then, it was getting close to five and I called the country vet I love so much in Monticello but they couldn't see her that late so Glen and I drove to Tallahassee to the emergency pet hospital where Lily and Lauren had taken their dog Pepper when she got bit by a venomous snake and Hank and Rachel had taken their cat Johnny Karate a few times. We don't have a cat carrier but she let me hold her without much of a struggle so again- yeah. She was sick. She gave me a little nip which was reassuring. Barely even broke the skin though so she wasn't really putting her heart into it. 
We had to wait so long to get her looked at but that's the way it goes. This clinic only takes walk-ins and they're open every day, all day and all night so they are busy. 
She did finally get seen by the vet and I had warned the tech that she was quite apt to bite and yes, she did bite the vet although the tech believed us and put on gloves so she was okay. They were able to do a quick exam and get her temperature which was high. Not frighteningly so, but still high and her gums were pale. No abscesses were found but an infection of some sort was still suspected, unless it's something more serious. Our choices were to get her sedated because that was the only way they were going to be able to get blood for testing or they could just give her an antibiotic injection and send her home for us to watch her. 
I chose that. I know she was so very, very unhappy there in that strange place with strange, albeit very kind, people. 

And so we brought her home. I held her cuddled up in a towel like she was my baby and all was well until we got back and I opened the door to take her in the house. She knew exactly where she was and she fought me and won, jumping down and running off to pee and poop, I'm sure. 
She's come back in and is in the cradle. At the clinic they gave her some sort of appetite stimulant which is applied inside the ear, believe it or not, but she doesn't seem to have the slightest desire to eat or drink water and I'm not going to try and stress her out by forcing her. As if I could, anyway. 
Let her sleep. 

She has lots of sweet friends to watch over her, including a nurse doll, and if she has an infection she'll probably be feeling better tomorrow and if it's something else that is indeed more worrisome, well, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. 
I love that damn cat far more than would seem rational. So does Mr. Moon, for that matter. But I also know that when she showed up at our door fourteen or more years ago and asked to be let in, which I did and gave her a bowl of venison and vegetable soup and she decided to stay, giving me no choice but to let her, she became a very lucky cat. She has had a pretty perfect life here in Lloyd with two humans who tolerate her ill manners and cozy her up when we can and feed her relatively well and provide her with all sorts of comfy and cozy and sunny spots to laze in and who have never let her food bowl go empty once and who, well, love her. And she has never been noticeably sick even once in her life. Ever. 
I was petting her through the wires of the borrowed cat carrier and I said to her, "We've been down a lot of miles together, haven't we, you crazy girl?" 
And we have. 
But it's not yet time to go off entirely in that direction yet. I think. 
Still, I want to be realistic about this. I have no intentions of putting her through any batteries of tests much less painful and ridiculously expensive treatments. She deserves more respect for her comfort and dignity than having to endure any of that. 
So we shall see what unfolds.
And isn't it odd that this is all happening a week from when Lily's Sonny Boy left us?

There's some rather unbelievable news about Alan tonight but I will save that. Let's just say there has been some incredible and unexpected progress in the last twenty-four hours. 

More tomorrow. 

Happy Friday y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Southern Rural Life

In Jefferson County, Florida where we live, to vote early one must go to the office of the Supervisor of Elections which is in Monticello, the only true town in the county. The population of Jefferson County is around 16,000 people and is not that small in area. Its borders range from Georgia to the Gulf of MEXICO. 

If you locate Tallahassee up there in the armpit/panhandle of the state and go over a county, you will find Jefferson. It is the third most rural county in Florida. 
All of this to say that when my vote was registered today after Glen and I early-voted, I believe I was something like the 813th person who has voted via that route since October 19 which indicates, for us, a large turnout. There was someone in each of the little privacy spaces where you fill out your ballot. I believe there were five. Or perhaps six. Either way, I finished filling my ballot out with great speed, having no need to go over all of it. I had filled out the sample ballot sent to us last week after doing my research and so there was no hesitation on my part. 
I was not fucking around with this. 
There are some very strong Democratic candidates in this race and I honestly think there is a possibility that at least some of them will win. Our governor's race is quite unusual in that the Democratic candidate was a Republican until a few years ago but he gets a lot of bonafides from the fact that the candidate for Lieutenant Governor who shares the ballot with him is Gwen Graham, the daughter of a very popular Democratic governor and who ran for the office herself several years ago. Not perfect but not terrible. 
The Republican candidate however, is a sort of unicorn. First off, he's Trump-endorsed to the hilt. He was a member of the Tea-Party. He's as Maga-ed up as a person can be. He's held positions in Florida's law-making bodies for years. He has climbed the Leader Ladder with persistence and success. So voting against him would be a no-brainer for many folks in Florida and absolutely YES for others. 
Here's the deal though- Byron Donalds is Black. If elected, he would be the first Black governor of Florida. And the conundrum is, all of us left-leaning libtards and most of the entire Black population of Florida would be filling out that little circle by his name if...he wasn't a Republican, Donald Trump endorsed, Maga Cultist. 
It's all just odd. Did the Magas think that liberals and people of color would vote for him despite his political leanings just in order to finally and at last, get a governor who didn't look like a, well, southern politician? 
Despite my great desire to see a Black governor at Florida's helm, Byron Donalds (can you even believe that last name? Can we say Donald's?) ain't the person. 
And here's another thing- will the white Maga voters who have, practically by definition, racist leanings, vote for a Black man? 
I am quite curious to see how this turns out. 

After all of that, it's time for me to make our supper. I made another loaf of the high protein, high fiber bread and it's in the oven as we speak. I'm going to make clam spaghetti and a salad with lots of arugula and basil in it. And in some excellent news, we have heat.

I sort of want to adopt the technician who has taken care of us. He just spent over three hours working on our unit and was good-natured though-out  it all. 
"I'm gonna get y'all heat if I have to stay here until 3:00 a.m.," he said. 
I believed him. 
Glen seems to like him fine too. He's out there now, giving him some ducks to take home and cook. 
John said that duck fajitas will be on the menu. 
Oh Lord. Men. 

I asked him if I could possibly take his picture for my blog and he said that would be fine. So here it is.

I showed it to him and asked if that was okay. He said it was. 

I bet his mama is proud of him. And his daddy too. He has that confidence and ease that people who grew up good seem to have. 

I'm glad for him. 

And I'm glad we have heat. 

Love...Ms. Moon

My Boyfriend's Back, Part One Hundred And Sixty Seven

Another day of no pictures although the lack today cannot be blamed on me not going anywhere.

First off, Mr. Moon got home around 11:00 last night and surprisingly, I was still awake with Maurice tucked up on my legs, my book in my hand. I bought a copy of Barbara Kingsolver's new novel, "Partita" and I am taking it very, very slowly. I wonder what I will think of this one. I have loved most of her novels, even "The Lacuna" which many critics gave short shrift. I, however, loved it and have read it at least three times. I have not found her nonfiction to be as interesting to me but that says far more about me than it does about her writing skills. 
"Demon Copperfield" was her last novel and I thought it was amazing. Difficult, but amazing. The woman is not afraid to step into the realm of truth, as painful and ugly as it may be. 

So anyway, there I was when the man got home and as always, when I haven't seen him in awhile, I am still shocked by his height, his size. Who IS this giant man and how is it that he is my husband? 
I do not know but I am so glad he is. 
There has been no difficulty adjusting to him being back for me this time at all. There was a second when I thought there might be. When he got in bed he told me that my fan seemed to be blowing a little bit on his face which is a no-no. I didn't even stop to think but just said, "That fan is not even blowing on MY face," and since I'm the one closest to it, he sort of just laughed and so did I and that was that. I may also have said something like, "This has been MY bed for the last week, you know." 
I am getting sassier in my old age. I do not think this is a bad thing. 

This morning he had already gotten a text from Alan's wife. We are going to go ahead and stop trying to be all protective of identities here. Alan is the name of Glen's friend and his wife's name is Kathy. Or Cathy. I'm not sure which. But she'd texted to tell Glen that things were not good and that if he wanted to see Alan before he well...transitioned, he should come on and see him. 
Turns out that Alan was transferred back to Tallahassee but not to the hospital. He is in a rehab place which indicates that the doctors really don't think they have anything more they can do for him. And the diagnosis they finally came up with was Eastern Equine Encephalitis which honestly, is hard to believe as the odds of contracting that particular disease are one in millions. Literally millions and millions. 
But. That's what all the testing finally indicated. 

So Glen was immediately thrown back into real, real life and of course, he was at Alan's beside as soon as he could get there after giving me a little bit of attention and eating his cereal. 

He met up with Jessie and me for lunch and that was very sweet. Jessie asked him all sorts of questions that I admittedly never have about where he hunts up there, what it's like, what they eat, and so forth. And I think he was very happy to share. I know he is aware that hunting is not something I'm entirely on board with and he sort of keeps that in a different world than the one we share. Not entirely, of course, but he doesn't go into details unless I ask and I generally do not. But he talked about how much he loves seeing the sunrise and the sunset and what the area where they hunt looks like. Things like that. 
I mostly kept my mouth shut and listened and learned. 

A funny thing he told me this morning was that perhaps, if he should be so lucky to be able to go up to Canada again next year, perhaps I could send some of our canned green beans and maybe some field peas and oh yes, maybe some chili or something like that? 
I believe they ate a lot of Kraft macaroni and cheese on this trip, along with duck. 
I told him I had a year to think about it but we could probably work something out. 
And yes, the cookies were very much enjoyed. 

I went to Costco and Publix after we all went our separate ways after lunch. I bought Lily some sunflowers at Costco to take to her at work because one of her cats had to be put down last weekend. Turns out he had a large tumor in his abdomen which caused him to lose weight and then to start having seizures. Their Sonny Boy. She took it hard. Because she is my child and has inherited some of the most useless of my traits, she was not only sorrowful for his loss but also felt a great deal of guilt for not having discovered the tumor earlier. 
Of course that would have made no difference and she knows it but still- guilt. The gift that keeps on giving. 
When I took her the flowers, I could tell she was not entirely her good-natured self, that in fact, she is having a hard time of it. I did all that I could do which was to tell her she'd done the right thing, that it really is just so very hard to let our animal babies go, and that she was not at all at fault. 
And hug her a lot. 

The part for our heater is still not in but all-in-all, we are fine. Although it got down to 44 degrees last night, it got back up into the 80's today. Crazy weather. I sleep well because I love having many covers on me while my husband does not like any weight on him at night that is not completely necessary. 
How in the world did the two of us ever get together? 
I do not know but I'm glad we did. 
And I'm glad he's home. 
Not sure what Maurice thinks but at least she didn't jump out of bed last night when he made his appearance. She stayed right where she was on my legs, keeping me even warmer. If he'd just allow her to sleep on HIS legs he might find himself to be warmer too but no, that is not going to happen and she knows it. 
Speaking of the hell bitch, she just bit the shit out of me, THROUGH a sweater and a long-sleeved shirt because I had the temerity to try and pet her as she was lying right beside my arm as I typed.  
And she can just fuck off tonight as far as I'm concerned. 

I'm telling you, we need a priest.

Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Stepping Back Into Normalcy

I took this picture last night to send to Glen. I mean, cliched as it is, Maurice is sort of our beloved child. 
Beloved child who needs a good exorcism now and then. 
"Go sit on Daddy's lap," I tell her when she tries to settle in front of my keyboard and I'm trying to type blind over her body. 
"Mommy'll give you your treat," Glen says to her when she meows in the kitchen. 
I knew this day would come. 

Speaking of Mr. Moon, he'll be home late tonight. They spent last night in Springfield, Missouri which is 822 miles from Tallahassee.  
I begged that man not to do drives that long but he claims that his friend Jim is the pilot and as such, he has no control over the situation.
Jim may be the pilot and he may be determined to drive from fucking North Dakota up by the Canadian border to back here in two days but if Glen put his foot down (and I do not mean on the gas pedal) he'd probably have taken it a little easier. Which all boils down to- does Mr. Moon listen to me? 
No. He does not. 
Oh, he probably listens but then he does what he wants to. 
Yes. I feel a little pissy about this. 

Today's been okay. The cat and I did not get up until late and it has been a beautiful day. I haven't done much although I did work on another bird. I haven't felt too bad but not great either. I know I could have slept most of the day but I seem to have some sort of mental block about that. My skin hurts (does yours do that when you're a little sick?) and my eyes feel funky. My arm still hurts but it will for a few days at least. I'm hoping to be back to normal, other than the arm, by tomorrow. 

It's been another day of not speaking directly to another human. You know, sometimes it worries me that I am so content with that. I mostly just don't feel the need. Last night I got a call from Levon/August (they share a phone) but it cut off before I could answer it so I called them back. Levon said, "It was a butt dial. I'm sorry."
I said, "Do you think you can get another lunch with another butt-dial?"
Both boys said that yes, they thought maybe they chould. 
"Well that's not going to happen," I said. And then we had a little chat which was nice. So I did talk to them yesterday. In fact, I talked to the HVAC guy yesterday too, and several people at Publix. So see? I've not been completely cut off from other humans. And I've had some good text exchanges with a few lovely people. 
I just really don't get lonely. 

So yes, I decided to get to work on bird number...three? Four? I found a bird-making video that did not look too hard which sort of made things a little clearer about how to shape a bird from a lump of clay. I did not follow it exactly because it was what I would call a "cutsie" bird and I wanted, if not a crow, then at least something that looked like it might actually perch on some magnolia leaves. 
I worked on that bird for about two and a half hours and I will admit, I got frustrated. I also pulled up a fine picture of a real crow from the internet and kept checking that to try and make my bird more of a corvid but finally gave up on that and decided that if it even reasonably resembled a bird, any bird, I would be happy. I probably spent at least an hour and a half on just the wings and the eyes and I am not really happy with either but I am hoping that after firing and sanding and glaze-painting, it will be...another useless object but one that I don't hate. The bird is definitely NOT a crow but it is a bird. And I did not throw the damn thing across the porch which I thought about doing several times. I hope the scoring and slip application I did will hold the bird firmly to the leaves. The leaves had dried out more than would have been an optimal for that to be guaranteed to work. I had wrapped them securely in plastic but that only works for so long. But I scored and I slipped well. 
I did my best. Or at least the best I could at this point in time. And I learned a few things, one of which is that I need a few better tools. My tool collection is pathetic. Still, fingers are my favorite tool. 

I wasn't going to even take a picture of it but I just did and here it is.

Thank all of you who have made suggestions. I used a little bit of all of them and I'm sure I will again at some point. 
However. Please, I beg of you, do not tell me that this one looks like a cross between a weasel and a possum. 
Here's a weasel. 

Here's a possum. 

I can see what my anonymous critic was saying but really, that was not helpful in the least. I KNEW it was all wonky. That much I did understand. And there was a period of time today when I was working on the new bird that I decided the beak looked more like a porpoise snout than a bird beak but I think I sort of fixed that. It also went through a stage wherein the eyes looked more like the eyes on a dinosaur than on a bird but hey! At least those two things are related, right? 

And in news that is actually important, it turns out that Elon Musk did indeed slow down Starlink to Ukraine in order to render their drones essentially useless. He has blamed Trump and the US military while Trump, of course, has denied any responsibility. 
Look. Hilary Clinton warned us ten years ago that Trump was Putin's bitch and every day it is more and more apparent that was the absolute truth. 
Well, she didn't use the word "bitch," at least in public, but she did use the word "puppet." 

Dear god, let this nightmare come to an end. Or at least come to the very real and legitimate and undeniable beginning to the end. 
Actually, I think that may be exactly what is happening.

Vote. Vote, vote, vote. When Mr. Moon gets back, we'll be heading over to Monticello to early-vote and I have never in my life been more convinced of the importance of that one small act. 

It will be interesting to have my husband home. Interesting and of course good. It always takes me a day or two to readjust to having him back. There will be more noise, more activity, more laundry, more consideration of someone else's needs. 
I suppose, as always, I will readjust. 
The hugs alone will be worth it. 

Off to go cook some more tofu. Last night was salmon and it was so good. 

As is my life. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Dammit, Maurice!

Marbles I've found around here in an old bourbon bottle. I love finding things in this yard. I so often wonder what all lies right beneath the surface of the dirt of my yard. 

I woke up this morning in a fairly pissed off mood. Ms. Maurice insisted on sleeping on my legs all night long and I guess she kept waking me up because something surely did and it took me awhile to go back to sleep every time and before I knew it, she'd changed position or was doing a little late night grooming or something and I was awake again. 
Sleep is sacred. 
But of course I do like the company and a little extra warmth doesn't hurt right now. A guy from the heating and cooling place came over this afternoon and figured out at least one thing wrong with the unit and he ordered that part which will take 1-3 days to get here although he cautioned it may be longer than that. He said that as soon as the part was in his hands, he'd be back to get things running.
And I believe him. He was a sweet guy. And just as polite and friendly as he could be. And he liked to talk but not so much that I wanted to scream which has happened before with repairpeople. 
His accent identified him firmly as being from around here and since he grew up in Monticello, that would make sense. 
We ended up talking about turkeys (he and his girlfriend have six pet turkeys) and chickens and dogs and how he and his girlfriend will get married when they can buy a house. He's pretty proud that he has a good job already. And he should be.
When it was time for him to go he stuck his hand out and said, "It was really nice to meet you," and it sounded like he meant it. 
"It was really nice to meet you, too," I said. And I meant that quite sincerely.

Before that whole thing happened, I went to town and got my flu shot. I figured that since I have nothing planned for tomorrow I might as well get it out of the way. It's inevitable that I'll feel like shit tomorrow and actually, it's already hit me, that always-surprising WHAM of aching eyes and aching muscles and feeling cold. 
Or maybe I just feel cold because I am cold. 

I worked on my crow again this afternoon and again, I ended up smushing the clay back into a ball and feeling frustrated. I realize I have absolutely no idea how to form anything more complicated than a cartoon fish or a flower or leaves from clay. As I've said, when I was of the age to play with Play Doh (can you remember that sort of salty smell it had?) the only thing I could make was snakes. 
I have not progressed very much but I will continue to work at it. I got a comment from Anonymous on yesterday's post with some helpful suggestions as to how to go about creating this bird and I was not adverse to reading them and pondering them but the part where they described my first attempt as looking like a cross between a possum and a weasel was a bit disconcerting as well as hysterical. I do not entirely agree but as I said in my reply, that did not do a lot for my confidence. 

For those of you who are interested in the eggplant recipe, I will send you HERE which is an old post of mine from seven years ago and if you read the whole thing you'll see that my life has not changed so very much in seven years. If you want to skip all that fiddle-faddle, just go directly to the part in bold print and go from there. It was sweet to realize that Joanne, whom we so recently lost, was the one who had asked for the recipe. 
It is a good recipe in my opinion. 

Now, as to the very crispy tofu- the recipe I got is from the New York Times cooking app and I really don't know how legal OR ethical it is to do screen shots and copy them here and besides that, the recipe is for the crispy tofu with lemon rice and raita and I have not made either the lemon rice or the raita, I'm sure they are very good and I'm just going to do a little slicing and dicing of the recipe and pass on the ingredients and directions for the tofu. 
Okay? 
The recipe is from Nisha Vora. 

Crispy Masala Tofu

Ingredients:

Two cups water
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 
1 fourteen to sixteen oz. block of extra-firm tofu, drained
2 teaspoons garam masala
3 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons neutral flavored oil

Directions:

Heat the two cups water in a small pan until boiling, add 1 Tablespoon kosher salt or half that if using table salt or sea salt and mix until salt is dissolved. 
In a large heat-proof bowl, tear the tofu into approximately one inch size chunks. Tearing the tofu rather than slicing it is one of the reasons it becomes so crispy when cooking. And if your chunks are of pretty varying sizes, that is okay. I know this from experience.
Cover the tofu with the boiling salted water, cover it, and let it sit for ten minutes. Gently drain it and spread the tofu onto a dish towel and dry the bowl for reuse.
Gently pat the tofu to dry it with another dish towel and return it to the bowl. Sprinkle the tofu with the cornstarch, garam masala, a sprinkle of salt, and a few grinds of black pepper. Mix carefully with a spatula until well coated.
Heat the oil in a large skillet until it's rippling. Add the tofu in a single layer and cook undisturbed until it is golden brown and crisp on the bottom, five to six minutes but you know- judge for yourself. 
Flip the tofu and cook the second side until browned. Transfer to a large plate lined with paper towels. 

And that's it. 
You can substitute curry powder or cumin or whatever you want for the garam masala which I realize not everyone has on their shelf. 
Feel free to fool around with the spices but if you use a knife on the tofu instead of tearing it up with your fingers and if you don't use the cornstarch and if you don't let it brown enough, it is not going to be as crispy as it could be. The boiling water is absolutely mandatory. 
I eat mine with just a little soy sauce on it but again- you can fool around with whatever sort of dipping sauce you like. 
I have spent half my life trying to figure out how to make real crispy tofu, freezing it before cooking, pressing it before cooking, freezing and then pressing, etc., and this is the first time I've ever really achieved crispiness. I want to try it in the air fryer to see how that works and I will do that soon. 

Mr. Moon has made it to Iowa and if all goes as planned he will be sleeping in Illinois. He will be home when he's home and my hope is that he and his buddy Jim will not be crazy about driving long hours without stopping. He kept back one small bag of cookies to stash away for this Gun Dog Express journey home. I like to think that those will make the drive just a tiny bit better for them. 

And now my arm hurts. Wah-wah-wah. And la-di-dah. 
This is nothing, nothing at all, compared to the flu which, if you've ever had the real thing, are quite sure you never want to have again. 

It's SCIENCE! Which I believe in. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Conchita and Unnamed Baby. 

 

I Am Not Lonely Yet

You may notice that I changed my header picture. The photo of my house that has been up there was just too dark and made it look as if it was haunted which I'm pretty sure it's not. I think I'd know after all these years here.
Linda Sue of Lady Margaret's Curlers made that excellent and beautiful mermaid cherub ornament and sent it to me some years ago. The child reminds me so much of Magnolia June when she was younger and there is never a time when I look at it that I am not pleased and simply delighted all over again. It's been hanging in that window in the laundry room the whole time I've had it which is perfect for me because I walk by it many, many times a day. 

This little Mexican paper mache dancer or circus performer or perhaps something entirely different has now come to roost among the plants I have on that table in front of the window. This is the folding table Glen built me several years ago and it's one of my favorite spots in the house. The beautiful bark cloth the plants and lady are resting on was also sent to me by Linda Sue. 
That sweet lady artist is represented all over this house. 

Today? Well. Let's see. It was cold when I woke up. Maurice and I did not want to get out of bed. Of course what I call cold is barely even mild in the more northern climes. But it was in the low fifties and that, to us, is pretty darn chilly. So I just kept burrowing under my covers until finally Maurice came up to my head to see if I was still breathing and when she found I was, she jumped off the bed and went to attend to whatever it is she attends to when she gets up and in a few minutes, I got up too. It was a two cashmere sweater day and one of those sweaters came to me from...Linda Sue. 
I set the thermostat to 68 degrees to warm the place up a little and then forgot about it until later when I realized I had not heard the heat come on and when I went to check it I saw that it had not come on and it was 66 degrees in the hallway where the thermostat lives and so I did what I do which is to stare at the thermostat for awhile, hoping that my mere presence and force of mind will fix whatever's wrong with it and I fiddled with the temperature again and neither of those things worked. 
They never do but a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. 
I knew I wasn't going to freeze and so dismissed the whole thing until later when I realized I'd been cold all morning. I plugged in a space heater and guess what? 
It isn't working. 
Of course.
Still, not to worry, right? 
I went out to the garden just to look around and be depressed about my greens and pick some more tabasco peppers because those and basil and one more Seminole squash are the only things I've got going. Well, except for arugula. That's still doing pretty well. 
And then I had a moment. 
Maurice came out to the garden too and she had a sip from the shallow dish I have out there to catch water for the bees and I saw the other orange cat by the compost pile, probably looking for anything new which I might have put out there which he would like to eat and he saw me looking at him and he froze and Maurice froze. I don't know whether she saw him or not. And I seemed to be caught in whatever space/time event they were in and we all just stood there in the sun for at least three or four minutes, simply being still and being surrounded by the intense color that fall somehow brings with it, as if a new filter had been added to everything. It was so quiet. I listened for birdsong and did not hear any. I held my basket with the few peppers in it I'd picked and was still.
It was odd and yet, it seemed to be exactly what we all needed to do. I swear I could feel the three points of energy the three of us were emitting coming together and I am not a casual user of language like that. 
And then I took my eyes off of the other orange cat and when I looked back a second later, he had disappeared and I realized Maurice had too. And so the spell was broken but for those moments, it had felt very natural and a little powerful too. Not that we had the power but that together, there was some sort of force. 
It wasn't what I would call a spiritual experience and I didn't gain any enlightenment from it but it was something. 

And interesting. And peaceful in a way but also, not exactly peaceful. 

Again. This is not really me but I know what I feel and that's what I felt. 

Perhaps this is what happens when you go for three straight days without seeing anyone or speaking to anyone, being alone and not unhappy about it. 

Later on this afternoon I did something I've been wanting to do for at least a week, which was to get out my clay and the few very, very simple tools I use to try and recreate my crow on magnolia leaves. 

I picked three smallish leaves and used those as templates. I have everything I need here for this stage of building something from clay. Parchment paper, a rolling pin, an old small kitchen knife, plastic wrap, small bowls for water and to make slip in. Slip being the sort of glue made from clay and water you use to attach pieces together, theoretically. And this is what I did.

I believe I was more mindful working here at home on the back porch. 
No time constraints, no worries about other people seeing and possibly judging what I'm doing although I will say I don't feel judged in pottery class. Still, if no one else is around, there is no chance whatsoever that any sort of criticism, silent though it may be, is possible. 
I fooled around with making my bird and I have not found my way with that at all. I was texting a friend about that and she said that the whole thing about crows is their personality. I agreed with her but added that the figure should at least resemble a bird. 
This is all entirely new to me. I have never, ever thought of myself as anyone who could make a ceramic bird or hibiscus or fish, for that matter. But I find so much pleasure in trying. 

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

Mr. Moon is leaving Canada probably as we speak and will start the 2,400 mile drive home tomorrow. 
Hoo-boy. 

I wasn't going to bother him with the whole heater situation but when I looked at the forecast for this coming week, I decided that it would be okay to mention it in hopes that he would either have some suggestions about how to rectify the situation or at least get in touch with whoever it is that does our heat and air care to see if he could schedule a visit from them. 

I'm sorry for being a wimp but 47 degrees? 
That's cold. Real cold. For me. 
When Jessie and I were shopping at TJ Maxx last week we came across a pair of leggings lined with some sort of fleecy, furry substance that was so soft it could not possibly have come from nature. I swooned a little and Jessie said, "Buy them!"
"Oh, I don't need them," I said. 
Haha. 
I wish I'd listened to my child. 

Anyway, I'll be fine and the heater will be fixed at some point and Mr. Moon will be home soon enough. And now I'm going to go heat up my supper. Last night's crispy tofu along with the eggplant casserole made me incredibly happy. This tofu recipe is brilliant and if any of y'all are really interested, I'll pass it on. 
So tonight I'm having some of that along with the eggplant casserole warmed up and I've also cooked a small pot of pinto beans because I wanted them. 
I may or may not bake some blueberry corn muffins. Having the oven on might warm up this end of the house a little bit, at least. 

I just finished listening to this today.

Again, it was not great literature but I surely did enjoy it. Where it could have been precious and smarmy and cliched it wasn't. There was just enough perfectly placed profanity as well as some tragedies and realities of life and lessons hard learned to keep it from slipping into the space of wondering why in the world you're wasting your time reading this. 
Also there's an orange cat who is a death doula. 
I think I'll remember this one for awhile and that's saying something. 

So. There's that. 

I have gotten The Duck out of its summer storage, which is to say a plastic garbage bag, and put it on the bed. All will be well. And Maurice will be pleased. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Critters

Sometimes, as Lily once so famously said as a bat flew around her in the bathroom, "Too much nature!" I think there may have been a roach in underwear involved there too. 
But it's been a slightly nature-ish day. Well, okay. The gecko in the sink was from last night. Now I like to think of myself as an old, strong, country cracker granny who can handle most things on her own but that is a big fat lie. There are a lot of things I can't handle, most them having to do with any sort of mechanical breakdown. Those things are Mr. Moon's job. Sorry but that's just the way it is around here. I cook, he fixes stuff. 
He also handles the wildlife which may mean taking care of a dead mouse, killing a rat in the dining room, removing a snake from a bathroom, or catching a darling little frog in the house and gently placing it outside. I'm not bad, really, at dealing with the dead things as long as they're not too big. I don't like it but I gird my loins, shut my eyes, and do what it takes.  
Dealing with the live creatures though is above my pay grade. So last night, when I discovered a gecko trapped in my kitchen sink, I was not happy. First off, I've never seen a gecko in the house, secondly, he or she seemed quite freaked out and last but not least- excuse me? How can a lizard which can literally walk on ceilings not get out of a damn sink? 
Just use your little suction cup toes there, Sister, and walk yourself out. 
But no. Not happening. So I put a cutting board at a slant in the sink so that the unhappy reptile could simply climb the slight incline of it and scuttle off to wherever it came from. 
Gecko was obviously not that smart. I changed cutting boards, thinking perhaps another size would work. 
Nope. 
So I finally just took a dough scraper and gently urged it out of the sink and before I'd even blinked, it had disappeared. So that was relatively painless. 
And then this morning, I woke up and came out to the porch to find that there had obviously been a drunken peanut party sometime in the night. I keep the crows' peanuts in a plastic bag and either I had forgotten to slide the little slider or else whatever had been having the revelry had figured out how to unslide it. This does not sound likely but raccoons have incredibly clever little hands. And I did suspect raccoons because they'd been up on the table where I keep the nuts although, possums can climb too. So who knows? 
There were peanuts and peanut shells scattered everywhere but they were easy to clean up and I wasn't too disturbed. Then I found the hole in the giant bag of sunflower seeds that Mr. Moon buys to feed the songbirds with, of course, sunflower seeds spilling out. 
I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that. I can't exactly animal-proof the back porch because there's a largish screen rip under the dog/cat door and I don't know what I could use to block it all off. 
Why, we may ask, did Maurice not chase off these nut and seed loving critters? Probably because she was asleep with me. 
And oh yeah- that bag of sunflower seeds weighs fifty pounds so I can't exactly move it. 

Too much nature.

Nah. Not really. It's just sometimes really annoying nature. I am sure the animals feel the same way about us, the clumsy humans who seem to fuck everything up but then again- there would be no sunflower seeds or peanuts without us. 
Glen'll deal with it when he gets home. Until then, I'll just be sweeping up stray sunflower seeds every morning. 

All right. I have some words to live by. As you know, I frequently say that I don't know shit but I do know some shit and one of the things I know for sure is that if you just think you smell something not right in whatever area it is you keep your potatoes and onions and so forth, there really is something that's not right and by the time you smell it, it really ain't right. 
I seem to have to learn this lesson over and over and over again. 
Today was this year's continuing education on that issue. 
First off, I did something I've been putting off for at least, well, I don't even want to admit how long it's probably been but I finally got around to mopping the kitchen, bathroom, and pantry. I have no idea why I do this so rarely. The whole process doesn't take forty-five minutes and that includes moving everything out that can be moved, sweeping twice, mopping twice, and moving everything back in. 
And it's so rewarding! 

 I always do this in the late afternoon so I can see how nice the clean floor looks with the late afternoon sun streaming in through the kitchen door. 

And let us not forget the wonderful smell of Fabuloso and vinegar that lingers after. 

Except today when there was another odor which seemed to be coming from the pantry and suddenly I knew exactly what was going on and yes, there were potatoes on my shelf in their basket that...well, look. Nature was involved. Nature's very own clean-up crew! So I immediately controlled my gag reflex, picked up the bag the offending, rotting, purifying, maggot-crawling potatoes were in and carried it directly to the compost and dumped the contents. Then I rinsed out the bag in the spigot because there was no way I was putting that bag in the trash in the state it was in. 
That is not all true. I didn't really have to control my gag reflex. I have a pretty strong stomach. 
But then I had to wash the potato basket and hang it outside and scrub the shelf it had been sitting on and somehow, still, the pantry retains a very slight odor of the horror which had occurred. 
I should be so embarrassed to tell you all this but somehow, I'm not. This is just life. Or at least my life. 
I tell you what- potatoes can turn on you in a heartbeat. Especially ones you buy at Aldi's. I am never buying any produce there whatsoever again. 

I have a lot more stories of my very exciting day but I think I'll go make my eggplant casserole and Crispy Masala Tofu that I am having for supper. These two things don't really sound like they go together, do they? 
Oh well. They are what I want. 

Here are two pictures I like. 

Cabbage palm transplanted from our property in Apalachicola to the old barn on our property. 

An extremely ancient oak on the back of our property which is so very sadly in the last decades of its life. I hope it's still decades. I could be fooling myself.
When we moved here twenty-two years ago, this tree was almost as big as the one next door. Majestically huge. Part of it split away in a storm, though, and this is what it looks like now. 

The moon is a beautiful waxing silver crescent hanging in a black velvet sky right outside my porch. A very tiny gecko is on the screen, patiently waiting for...what? A mosquito? A gnat? 

It's so young it's still almost transparent. 
Stay out of my sink, little guy! 
Thank you very much. 

Love...Ms. Moon