In Which I Relate Absolutely Nothing Of Interest To Anyone

 Lily sent us a picture of her broccoli which is starting to head and I wondered how ours is doing because I haven't actually looked lately. It's off to the side in the garden in pots, and I was surprised to see this happening. 
Well dang! 
Nice surprise.

It got pretty busy here this morning for awhile. Mr. Moon got a call from the place where he was getting his almost two-hundred pound wild pig processed, telling him that it was all ready. He and Vergil did the small one but they let the pros handle that big pig. This meant that he needed to unbox and set up the outdoor freezer he'd bought and he had to go get the meat and he also had a duck-hunt planned so suddenly everything was moving and shaking and I made him some breakfast sandwiches and then Vergil and the boys came over to pick up Boppy to go get the pig which they did.
Things calmed down and I did a crossword or something. 
Guys- I think I'm losing about ten percent of my vocabulary a week. At this rate I'll be in the memory care unit by Christmas. I'm not joking about this. It's getting weird. Still, I struggle on with the various crosswords, being frustrated and and somewhat horrified. It's not that much fun but it has become an obsession anyway. 

Then the guys got back and while the men split up the meat and then Mr. Moon got ready to go hunt, I fed the boys some peanut butter and raisin and honey sandwiches. Recently, August got curious about the little dorm-sized refrigerator in my kitchen where I keep grains and beans and things like that. He wanted to know what was in it and I showed him and he noticed a box of golden raisins. 
"What are those?" he asked and I told him. He asked if he could try them and I said, "Of course," and he did and he liked them. So when I was making up the sandwich concoction, he asked if I could use golden raisins too and I said I could and I did. I was not surprised that he remembered. Kids remember everything and don't even try to convince yourself otherwise because they do. 
After they ate their sandwiches and generously offered me the crusts (I told them that they would know they were growing up when they started eating their crusts) we read some books. We read "The Five Hundred Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins" which is really an odd story in some ways but I do like it very much. You can tell it was written a long time ago because there's an executioner in it who is prepared to cut off Bartholomew's head with his axe and that would not pass the editor in today's world, not to mention the fact that a spanking is involved. But August adores the story and asks many questions about what certain words or phrases mean and why things happen and so forth. He's a curious little man. Reading it is a joy because there are so many voices and emotions which makes me happy. Sometimes when I get too dramatic, Levon puts his hand over my mouth. 
You cannot please everyone. He wanted a book called "The Train to Timbuktu" by Margaret Wise who wrote "Goodnight Moon" and I have to say that she should have stopped with "Goodnight Moon" although she may have written the other one first. But, we got those trains to Timbuktu, the big one and the little one, clackity, clack, clackity clack, and clickity click, clickity click. 
By then Vergil was ready to go and so off they went after I gave the boys their going-away treaties of six M&M's apiece and when I got back in the house I realized that I could not find my phone. I called it from the landline (which is about the best use of a landline these days) but I couldn't hear it ringing. I distinctly remembered taking it out of my pocket but I could not remember WHERE.
Could it have gone home with Vergil and the boys?
I called him, again from the landline, and yes, I think I had set it down on the seat by August when I was digging in my pocket for the M&M's. Poor Vergil had gotten almost all they way to the Tallahassee exit on I-10 and he turned around when he got off and got back on, heading east and brought it to me. 
I felt so stupid and although he was incredibly nice about it, I know he had things to do and it was completely ridiculous for him to have to make that drive twice. 

And that was about all I did today. It was spitting rain on and off, gray and dreary, damp and chilly. Not cold at all, but just that sort of wet chill that gets into your bones and I didn't feel like doing anything outside anyway. I have so much that needs doing out there and plenty that needs doing in here but I have absolutely lost my motivation. 
I don't know. I keep wondering if I'm depressed. I mean- sure- Biden's the president now and that's a huge relief but we're still stuck in this horrible pandemic which is affecting the entire world. I've been reading an article in the New Yorker about how horribly the pandemic was mishandled by Trump entitled "The Plague Year" and it's by Lawrence Wright. It's long as fucking hell but if you want to read it (and I consider it to be worthwhile but that means nothing) you can find it here. 

Trump's blundering, his ignorance and disdain and disregard of scientists and doctors, not to mention using the whole thing for what he considered his political advantage, has caused the deaths of literally hundreds of thousands of people. The man should be tried on charges related to that if nothing else. We all knew about these things but to read the timeline and details is horrifying. 

I suppose I should quit dwelling and ruminating and I know I should try to make myself do things that get me out of the house, even if it's only as far as the garden. And yes, be more regular with my walks. 

Okay. Here's something I don't think I've ever seen. 

An egg which has sort of a mottled color. And it's a bit pointy. Not sure what's happening there but I'll be interested to see if I get more like that. 

Lord, my life is small. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Day Of Processing A Week

We all know that the Pink Perfection is my favorite camellia but honestly- I am starting to lean towards this one as my favorite. Those colors of pink together with that yellow center, the delicacy of the petals- it's just too beautiful to bear. This is its first bloom of the year on my tree and it had rained before I took the picture. There are many buds and I will be picking them and bringing them in but I wanted to let this first one stay where it bloomed, magnificent and unmolested. I do not know the name of this variety and I wish I did. I've googled all sorts of combinations of "pink" and "dark pink borders" with "camellia" and nothing has looked right. 

I have taken the day off today. Meaning I haven't done much of anything at all which has been lovely. It's been drizzling, gray and damp and chilly but I haven't minded a bit. I've worked on August's quilt a little and listened to a book on my phone from the library. I washed the sheets and remade the bed- the Friday ritual. Mr. Moon did not take the day off but has been in town working on a lease. It amazes me that he's able to do things like that. He still surprises me with his abilities and knowledge, his persistence and problem-solving skills. You know how people say that this or that is "not in my wheelhouse" or "not in my lane"? There is very little that is in neither my husband's wheelhouse or lane. Need a plumbing problem solved? He can do it. Need that sound your car's making diagnosed and fixed? The Car Guy can do it. Need a new set of steps? He's got it. Need a garden built? Call Boppy. Need a lease torn apart and put back together properly? I know your man. And of course- need a car that suits your needs and will last for practically forever? Again, the Car Guy at your service. He's gotten so many sweet letters and notes from people thanking him for making what seems like such a daunting task easy and relatively pain-free. 
And there's so much more. Plus, he's so darn cute. I am a lucky woman. 

So here's something I just found out today. One of my oldest friends has a son who has become quite well known for his photography, especially of large events. He was asked by the inauguration people to do some time lapse photography of the installations at the mall and one of the pictures he took, a photo of the Capitol with the sun rising behind it, was chosen as the first photo on President Biden's Instagram on Wednesday morning. Try as I might, I have not been able to snag a copy of the photo to post here but if you google, "Joe Biden on Instagram," you can probably find it. My friend's son's name is Calder Wilson and as you can only imagine, his parents are quite proud of him. 

The gloaming has set in now and the frogs are singing their little hearts out. How can something with a throat that small make such a loud noise? I can barely see the profile of one chicken standing in the doorway of the hen house, the rest of them already tucked up on their roosts. We have been eating quite high on the hog lately and tonight I'm going to bring it down (up?) a level to what we fondly call samurai soup. A simple broth with greens from the garden, tofu, ginger, rice noodles, dumplings and a very, very fresh egg. I'm looking forward to it. 

And now the man is home and it will soon be time for him to shake up martinis- another thing he's quite good at.

A very simple day for me and I'm glad of that. I wonder what tomorrow will bring? Jessie texted us this morning that she had overheard Levon telling August that they should come out here to visit and leave Mommy at home. This reminded us all of when August said that he wanted us to adopt him and we imagined him driving to Lloyd in a tiny car all by himself. Now we can envision both he and Levon in that tiny car, both wearing driving caps, eyes straight ahead on the road, determined to get to Mer and Bop's where, if Mommy's not around, TV is endless and so are treats. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Kickin' Ass, Old Folks Style

I did not take one picture today so here's a picture I took yesterday of Magnolia June who was telling me that she was NOT leaving and since she could not sleep in the house because of the virus, she would be sleeping in the hen house with the chickens. In fact, she said she wanted to be a chicken and that was that. 
Sweet baby. 
Lily brought the kids over yesterday afternoon after I saw the Bidens enter the White House after their parade. It was good to see my boys and my little girl and my big girl and everyone had a piece of cake because I'd made one that morning, before the inauguration began. August helped me.

It was a prune cake, a very moist spice cake with a caramel glaze that I make traditionally for mamas who have just had babies. It's a recipe I remember from my childhood when my mother made one for my grandfather's birthday. 

So between cake baking and all the crying and whooping and cheering and clapping and sweet visits and regular chores (although I never did make the bed yesterday- the horror!) I was exhausted last night but I slept so well, imagining Joe and Jill (I hope I'm not being disrespectful with all these first names) lying in their bed in their room at the White House, their new residence, their new HOME and did you see the footage last night of Joe holding a grand baby and dancing to Demi Lovato as she performed as part of the inaugural entertainment? 

Oh my heart. 

When I went to my compounding pharmacy today to pick up hormones, the lady who works there who is, well, older than me if that tells you anything, asked me if I'd seen Joe dancing with that baby. I see this lady once a month when I go to pick up my prescription and she's a hoot. She wears carefully applied make-up and beautiful clothes and her hair is always perfect. We've talked about a lot of things and I think her attitudes have changed in the last several years. We were talking about CBD once, and also cannabis and she said, "They're good medicine and I was raised a good little Baptist girl!" She loved the inauguration and before you know it, we were talking shit about Trump and she told me that until recently she had no idea what Biden's life had been like but she's learned a lot and she really thinks he's a good man. I told her I agreed with her on that, for sure. 
I'll tell you one thing I know and that is to never make assumptions about old Southern women. They'll kick your ass and blow your mind. 

And their eyeliner will still look good. 

So yes, I had to go to town today and now I really am exhausted. I had two prescriptions to pick up and Mr. Moon needed a ride to shuttle a car and I went to Costco and Publix, of course. Costco was fast and easy but then I went to Publix where I had about ten things on a list to get and ended up with a car filled with groceries because I still seem to be in hoarder/stasher mode. 

I mean, not really. I don't have fifty pound bags of rice and beans around. It's more like I just want to make sure that I don't run out of anything necessitating an extra trip to town. Like...stewed tomatoes? Jasmine rice? Goat cheese? Sweet potatoes? 
Are these even necessities? No. They are not. We could live for a month on what we have here, easily. But if we had to, wouldn't we need more flour?
Yes! Yes we would. 

Or so it seems to me. When I'm in Publix at least. Walking through that door is like entering a portal to another universe where there is no way to escape without filling up my cart. 

I need to get a grip on this problem. But honestly, my refrigerator and freezer and cabinets are not overfull. Okay. Maybe the freezer is. And yeah, there are two freezers in the garage but that's just venison and pork and...frozen green beans and field peas.
Yes. I have a problem. OKAY!

I finally made it home where of course everything had to be hauled in and put away and then I had to take the trash and get the clothes off the line and why I even hung them out is a mystery because they were still damp when I brought them in. So. Into the drier they went for a little while. They're ready to come out and be folded and of course dinner needs making. I hope I make it through to bed time. 

I haven't paid much attention to the news today beyond having a vague knowledge that Biden is kicking ass and taking names, rockin' and rollin' and undoing as much of the damage that Trumpty Dumpty did as possible. 

I saw via Rachel on FB that the White House online "contact us" section asks for your pronouns now. Such a small and yet huge thing. I read a few weeks ago that some woman disguised as a reporter, asked Biden how many genders there are to which he replied, "At least three. Don't play games with me, kid."

That "kid" charmed my heart. He's so old-fashioned and yet, so very, very forward-thinking at the same time. I sort of wished yesterday that he would put those sunglasses on because he looks like the coolest granddad in the world in them. 

All right. I've gone on enough. 

Oh! I asked a woman very politely to pull her face mask up to cover her mouth and nose in the check-out line at Publix today. I felt sort of like a Karen but then I thought, "Oh hell. I'm an old Southern Woman. I can get away with this shit now." 

I suppose I better start wearing eyeliner. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Best Day In Forever

 When Jessie brought the boys over this morning, August was beside himself with excitement. He handed me a red envelope and told me to open it which I did. Inside was a sheet of yellow paper that he had written "Joe Biden" on. He figured out the spelling mostly himself with help from Mama, and Levon was happy to share in the excitement. 

Lord, what a day. 
I don't know about you but when Joe finished his oath and I knew that Trump was well and truly no longer the president, the tears that had been flowing since I heard the Marine band start up well before the ceremony began, burst forth in full. I felt such a physical rush of relief and joy flood my body that it's hard to describe. I had cried when I saw Kamala and when she took her oath, I cried when I saw the Obamas, I cried when Jill and Joe walked down those steps. But that second when the power transferred was a different feeling entirely and all of us in our living room, Glen, Jessie, August, Levon, and I all clapped like crazy and cheered and it was as if a heavy curtain of darkness and fear had been lifted and the light was able to pour in. 

Indeed, the sun was shining so brightly here and it got so warm that I opened up the hallway doors and let the good, clean air wash in and wash through, and it felt exactly right. 

I swear- if I'd had flags and bunting, I would have hung them all in red, white, and blue glory. 

The inauguration went well and everyone seemed happy and I even loved Lady GaGa who gave the Star Spangled Banner her own special gold. Even Garth Brooks in those tight, tight jeans with the ironed-in creases down the legs and his uncontrollable delight in being able to acknowledge everyone he could, made me smile. 

And then Amanda Gorman whose words were so powerful, whose hands were like doves, dancing to them. 

In her face I saw her foremothers and forefathers, upon whose backs this country was built. I saw the faces of young people, sitting at a Woolworth's lunch counter, stoic in the face of hatred, wanting nothing more than the right to order and eat a tuna salad sandwich, an ice cream sundae. I saw Ruby Bridges being escorted to school by US Federal marshals, necessary because the thought of a small Black child being able to attend the same school as white kids brought the threat of violence upon her tiny petticoated self. Ruby was born two months after me. We are virtually the same age. I remember. 
I remember.
And while today was a day of such hope and such light and such joy, there were guards and the military and police everywhere having to protect not only Ms. Gorman but all of the people who were there to celebrate the inauguration of a man who has the audacity to speak against racism and white nationalism. And that fact wreaks my soul. But. 
Once again, I feel as if we are headed in the right direction and although there is more healing and repairing to be done than I can even imagine, we can at least make those first steps now. 

Joe's speech was great, in my opinion, and my favorite part was when he quoted Abraham Lincoln who, when signing the Emancipation Proclamation said, "My whole soul is in it." 
"My whole soul is in it," repeated President Biden, referring then to himself. 

That's really all I needed to hear. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Reflections

 This morning I decided to walk on White House Road again because it's just so beautiful. When I walk there I see birds and amazing trees and moss-covered banks of clay lining the road. The trees ask my eyes to lift up and they do and I see sky and the Spanish moss hanging from the trees which arch overhead as if reaching out to each other. 
It is a glory with its puddles of light amidst the shadows of the oaks. 

Of course, there are also the houses with the flags, the banners, the signs. Trump! they proclaim and at this point it's just so silly. 
We've beat that dead horse to a pulp though, haven't we?
Haven't I?

This time tomorrow Joe Biden will be our president. In the space of five hours, crews will enter the White House, move out every last trace of Donald, Melania, and Barron Trump, deep clean the place, and set the Biden's furniture in place, unpack their bags and put their things where they belong. They will fill the refrigerators with Biden food. 
I think about this a lot- how incredible it is that there are people who are tasked with the job of erasing one family's presence and replacing it with another family's, making it a home for them while the departing family travels to wherever it is they are moving and that very night, every one sleeps in their different places, surrounded by their own things but in such different circumstances. 

Our homes represent so much more than just shelter, don't they? 

"Home is Where The Heart Is," I embroidered on a sampler once. Our homes reflect us in every way. They provide shelter, yes, but they also provide the comfort and security that can only come when we settle into them, we make them our own, whether our homes are cabins or mansions or mud huts or ranch-style houses in suburban neighborhoods. Trailers or tents or tenements can be homes. So can tepees and high-rise apartments and cottages and even caves. 
Those of us who are luckiest have homes that we love, that we cherish and that when we come back to when we have been away, cause our hearts to be at peace. 
There's no place like home. 

And tomorrow, Joe and Dr. Jill Biden will begin the process of settling into a house that they have been very familiar with for many years. That perhaps Joe has yearned to live in throughout his years of service to the American people. 
I hope they are happy there. It is nice to think of their dogs figuring out the arrangements of where they are to sleep and to eat. It is lovely to think of the Biden grandchildren playing in their grandma and grandpa's new house. 
My god. It is just such a relief to imagine these people making their home in that house instead of the people who are sleeping there for the last time tonight before they fly off to a fitting place for them- a "living space" in a resort. 
Although who knows how long they'll stay there? It's illegal for them to actually call it their residence due to zoning and so forth but hell- when did that ever stop DJT from doing something?

You know what else I keep thinking about? Barron Trump. There is something very disturbing there. And I am not criticizing him. I am in no way attacking or making fun of him. But the few times we've even seen footage or images of him at the White House have revealed less than if we had only seen a cardboard cut-out of a boy. The images I've seen would disturb me if they were images of a boy who lived across the street. I feel deeply sorry for him in so many ways, not least of which is that Donald Trump is his father. I wish him peace and I wish him happiness and I wish him some sort of normalcy in his life although I sincerely doubt that is even vaguely possible. 

Anyway, I'll be watching the inauguration. Will you be? I am so excited to see and hear our new Inaugural Poet, a twenty-two year old woman named Amanda Gorman. 

I still remember Maya Angelou reading her poem "On The Pulse of Morning" at Bill Clinton's inauguration and my tears flowing as that majestic queen of a woman spoke her words. 

All right. I have written all of this as if I did not have fears and worries about the happenings tomorrow. I want it to be beautiful and a pure celebration of goodness and hope, despite the limitations put on it by the pandemic. I want everyone to be safe. I want democracy and peace to prevail. 

May it be so.

See you tomorrow. It'll be the same world, but not the same. I honestly think that it will be a better world. That our eyes will be lifted up. That our souls will be soothed. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Such Sadness

 Another beautiful day here and I decided to stay close to home for my walk, just take the sidewalk and see what was happening on Old Lloyd Road but as soon as I walked out of my driveway I saw my Trump-signs neighbor standing across the road and thought, "Oh, shit."
As neighbors in the purely neighborly sense, she and her husband are fine. I know they'd help us if we needed them and they know the same about us. 
But. 
Knowing that someone has voted for Trump twice, knowing that they have kept his signs in their yard for five years, and knowing exactly what that means as to their beliefs and world-view is different than just knowing that someone is probably a Republican and doesn't have the same outlook or philosophy as I do. I mean, it's just different. Not to put too fine a point on it but Trump signs scream ignorance and racism to me and that's where we are in history.
I turned off the book I was listening to and took an ear pod out to say hello because I'm not a complete asshole and she said, "Hey! I'll let you pass before I cross. T and I have covid."
This is the woman who told my husband last year that the virus was basically a hoax and just you watch- it would disappear right after the election. And damn, I'm not a saint and there is that part of me which enjoys a bit of shadenfreude but I felt guilty for the quick thought I had about that because these people are not in good health and they have a rough life. The husband has leukemia, their daughter has a brain cancer. Their resources are quite limited. 
"I'm so sorry," I said. "Are you all right?" 
"We're okay," she said. "But it's hard to get rid of. T especially is having a bad time with it. I can hardly get him to eat. There's really nothing they can do. They gave him a nasal spray but that doesn't seem to be doing much."
"How long have you had it?" I asked. 
"Since Christmas."
Fuck. 
We talked a little more. She had heard a kitten and was investigating in the yard across the street from us. She loves animals. She's taken in everything from donkeys to a llama to goats to dogs since I've lived here. I don't know how many dogs they have. Jack used to eat over there when he was still half-wild until he decided that he wanted to make his home here with us. The dogs probably had something to do with that decision. She told me that she had no idea how they got the virus because they wore masks in Publix and Walmart (which are required so...) and then she said, "Biden's going to order a mask mandate which is stupid because we wore masks and got it anyway. They don't do any good."
Oh boy, I thought. Here I go.
And I did. All of this conversation was basically being yelled as we were at least twenty feet apart and cars kept passing between us. That did not help the tone of the conversation. But I'll admit, I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream at her. I took my walking stick and pointed it to one of the Trump signs in her yard and said, "Masks DO work and if Trump had encouraged people to wear them we wouldn't be in the mess we're in right now." She didn't flat-out deny that but she said, "Thank God he did Operation Warp Speed. At least we have a vaccine now."
"Trump didn't have a damn thing to do with that," I said. "Scientists from all over the world worked on that vaccine but he's taking credit for it. After he got bored with the pandemic, he completely ignored it."
More things were said. Everything that came out of her mouth was like a Fox News blip. I finally said, "Look, you and I are just going to have to disagree on this," and she said, "Well, at least we live in a country where everyone can believe what they want to."
I paused for a moment. I knew, I KNEW I need to just walk on. But it's like all of the anger I've stored up since November 2016 was screaming to be let out. And I said, "Believe it or not, there are countries all over this world where you can believe whatever you want." 
"Well, it's not like China where they kill people."
I mean...holy fuck. 
"Yeah, but you have places like Sweden and Norway too," I said. "Have you ever been to another country?"
"No," she said, "And I don't want to."
Well. There you go. 
"I went to Europe when I was eighteen," I said. "And what I learned is that although I'd been told that America is the greatest country in the world my entire life, I found out that isn't even close to the truth."
It was about this time that she pulled the god card and said that if god wanted her and her husband to have covid then so be it and I told her that I did not believe that god pointed down at them and said, "I want C and T to have covid!"
"It doesn't work that way," I said. "It's just living on earth. We get sick."
And then she said that when we're born our days are numbered and I told her that was the most obvious thing on earth and she claimed that she hasn't died from the MS that she's had for years because it's not her time and so forth. She went on to the election and how all of the networks except for Fox News just kept going on and on about finding things wrong with Trump and I told her that you didn't have to look to find things wrong with Trump and I finally asked her, "What is it about him that you like?"
Another pause and then she said, "Well, under him it's the lowest unemployment ever, especially for Black people so they have jobs now so they're not just taking, taking, taking." As she said this, she extended her arms out, palms down and made raking motions with her hands. 

Well. That did it for me.
"We're not having this conversation," I said. "If y'all need anything, let us know." And I walked/stalked off down the sidewalk not feeling great about any of that and of course still angry and then I got sad and felt more despair than ever because it had been a very clear example of how so many people think and what they believe and it's just depressing as hell. 

When I got home and told Mr. Moon all about it he said, "So are they going to come over and kill us?" I think he was joking.
"They don't have the energy to kill us," I said. 

And all day I've felt sort of dead inside like the human race is doomed and also that when she went low, I did not go high, but it would take a better human than I am to not have gone where I went. I simply should not have engaged her to begin with. I should have offered her help if she needed it and then gone on my way. 
I am not proud of myself. 

One more day until that evil cancer is out of the White House. He's infected more lives with his lies and his normalization of racism and every other sort of selfish and horrid behavior than anyone could ever have imagined. Even those who knew that it was going to be horrible when he got elected could not have foreseen all of this. I suppose I had a little more belief in humanity than humanity deserved. And I don't like knowing that my own humanity is not what I would wish it was. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Untitled

Another day where I've just let things unfold before me without a great deal of thought or purpose. I made us a beautiful breakfast with biscuits and bacon and the freshest eggs to be found anywhere and real grits, the kind that take an hour to cook. 
I had a half a peanut butter and banana sandwich for my lunch around 2:30 because I was still so full. I still feel full but I've made a pot of white bean and venison chili and have a loaf of sourdough about ready to go into the oven so hopefully, by the time it's all ready I'll have found some room for more. I picked salad greens when I was in the garden, weeding and pretending to thin plants. I think I have some sort of pathological dread of pulling plants to thin rows. I almost cannot do it and never do it adequately even though I am well aware that if I did, my plants might, would probably, get bigger and better and far more productive. 
It's just so seemingly cruel to pull something that went to the trouble to root and sprout and grow leaves. 

I watched the video HERE today. I'd seen the link before but hadn't watched it until a friend sent me the link too and then I did watch it and then I felt sick. It's footage of the mobs inside the Capitol last Wednesday and there's plenty there to indict Trump and maybe Ted Cruz, too. It all just seems so unreal. So theatrical. While at the same time it's quite clear that if the lawmakers had not been spirited away, there could have been a massacre. What I just keep wondering about these quite obviously fairly well-off rioters is what in hell they have to be so upset about? Is it simply because they're afraid that they're going to lose their white privilege? Is it fear of a crumbling patriarchy? Is it because "their guy" lost the election? Really? Because they think that Biden is going to let the Hollywood "elite" kidnap all the children and drain their blood? I mean...WHO COULD BELIEVE THAT? 
Millions, it would seem. 
And I've read that many former Trump supporters are now of the opinion that he's betrayed them but at this point that is irrelevant to their desire to overthrow the government with violence. 
One guy in the video footage stands in the Senate Chamber and says, "While we're here, why don't we form a new government?" 
Sure buddy, go ahead. 
It is so perfectly obvious that they don't have a single sliver of a clue about what their goals are beyond assassinating Nancy Pelosi and Mike Pence and oh, yeah, probably a bunch of other Democrats. They wouldn't know how to overturn an election if someone gave them a ten-hour Power Point on it. 
Another thing I keep thinking about is the difference between these mobs and the protesters of the sixties and seventies who gathered peacefully and without weapons to try and end an unjust and senseless war, to make a stand for civil rights, and for women's rights. They faced armed police and National Guard units in riot gear with dignity,  flowers, and innocence. 

Was that because they knew they were right? Because they knew their cause was just? Unlike these ass wipes with their macho postering, the guns they carry like accessory phalli, their blustering and praying and obvious confusion, their ridiculous conspiracy theories and ideas about how a government works. 

Well. 

I think that Vergil and Jessie had the right idea for today which was to pack up and go on a primitive camping adventure on St. George Island. They are two miles from their car, there is no running water, and there are no bathrooms. 

They look very happy. 

These pictures bring me joy. 

As our country and the world appear to be coming apart in ways both tiny and huge, there is still this. 

There is goodness and purpose and meaning and sky and water and fire and air. 

Love...Ms. Moon