As Melania Trump So Famously Said: "Who Cares?"

I've been so damn useless today. That picture sort of sums up how I've felt. Angry, a little scary, a living mixture of emotions and feelings, amounting to not much. 

I talked to a friend on the phone and spent half the time crying and I hate it when I do that. This friend is so loving and so kind that I can't help but cry around her and she knows I cry and she doesn't worry overmuch about it I think, but it still makes me feel so weak in my weepiness. She says I'm tender, which is a very sweet way of putting it and I know that the older I get, the more tender I become and I don't foresee that changing any time soon. 

I suppose I could have canned a few more beans but I didn't feel like it and I could have weeded the garden but I didn't feel like that either even though it's been overcast all day with a few bouts of a mist-like rain that probably didn't even dampen the ground. I did a crossword, the Wordle, shopped for and ordered a dress on eBay, shopped for and didn't buy a purse on eBay, sent two e-mails in response to two I'd gotten, purged my e-mail inbox and trash file, swept the kitchen, moped around, finally settled down and watched another episode of yet another FLDS documentary I've been watching- Preaching Evil. 
This of course made me feel so much better. 
I also did some seam ripping on a dress that I'd hemmed yesterday and messed up which sounds ridiculous and it is but there you go and here we are- I messed it up. It's a rather cheap dress I got a few weeks ago and it's way too "youthful" for me (What Never To Wear After Forty!) but I like it anyway with its flowy skirt and big pockets. I wear a sort of tank top under it that I tell myself precludes the need for a bra which HAHAHAHA! who cares? It makes me feel like I'm a tiny bit closer to the crazy Bohemian woman I always thought I'd be by this age but which I am not, choosing to mostly wear overalls, at least when I'm home. 
Lucky husband, eh? 

Lily did something with her kids yesterday that I think was the coolest thing. They went to the Asian Market and bought various fruits which are not usually available in the regular grocery stores. 

And then they had a taste test. Lily said that the Asian pear came up #1, the prickly pear was last, and the guava was too green. 
Looks like the kids were enjoying it. 

So. I've made a discovery. Or at least I've changed my opinion about a very important subject- the use of Crisco butter-flavored shortening versus real butter in biscuits and pie crusts. 
I grew up with Crisco being used in pies and biscuits and cookies. It just was. As for real butter- I don't even know the first time I tasted it because we always had margarine. I don't think this was unusual for my generation. 
Of course I got older and wiser and for a long time now I've used real butter on the table and also in baking. I'm still sure it is superior in cakes and in cookies and when I think of using shortening in them I shudder. However, a few weeks ago I had to substitute some shortening for butter in a pie crust and it was absolutely the best pie crust I'd made in forever. I tried it in biscuits and the result was fluffier and far more tender biscuits. 
Most interesting. 
Please don't bother telling me that butter is actually far better for us than Crisco. I am aware of that. I am also aware of the fact that anything made with the fat to flour ratio of biscuits or pie crust is going to kill us dead eventually so what the fuck? 
And to tell you the truth, WTF has been how I'm feeling ever since the supreme court has started taking away our freedoms and allowing the separation of church and state to become blurred AND is now seemingly set on destroying the planet. What's the fucking point is how I felt about almost everything after Trump got elected and so this is only a renewal and restoration of that. 
It is not a good feeling. 
But it can lead to deliciousness in the kitchen, I guess. 
Another thing I've learned recently is that in the time it takes me to heat my "real" oven to 425 degrees to bake biscuits, I can make the dough for biscuits, shape them, and bake them to doneness in my Easy Bake (aka Cuisinart airfryer/toaster oven) at 375 degrees. I will admit that the tops are a little uneven in their color but so what? 
This is dangerous knowledge because the ability to make two (or even one!) fine biscuit in a short amount of time can only lead to trouble. 
So what? WTF's the point of worrying about dietary restrictions? 

Hopefully, I will get over this mindset because obviously, there are plenty of reasons to give a fuck or a damn. I just can't remember them right now. 

Here's what the little yard in front of the original kitchen (now office) looks like right now. 

The Garden Phlox has taken over which is fine with me. The Pinecone Lilies are also threatening world domination. I have to admit that I was surprised to see that they are already forming their cones. 

And when I went out to check on the the figs, I discovered that I had a few ripe ones. Just a few. And they are so tiny. 

My new goal is to gather enough to make at least one pint of fig and lemon preserves because I love it. 

See? I haven't given up on life. I have goals for the future! 

All righty then. I've told you everything I know. 
Mostly. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Growing, Catching, And Cooking Stuff

That's what I did this morning. I bet y'all would appreciate it if I got new picking baskets, wouldn't you? Two days ago I turned the sprinklers on the garden all day long and the beans and cherry tomatoes and peas have made a comeback. We've been getting predictions for rain all week but haven't had much, most days none at all. It's rumbling and rolling out there right now, but as with so many things in life right now, I am not feeling a lot of hope for good chances of relief. 

I talked to Jessie this morning and Levon too. I asked him if he was having a good time with his brother and his cousins and he assured me that he was. I also asked if he was going to give me a hug when we see him soon. He allowed as how he would but he did not sound overly enthusiastic about it. Jessie says the cousins are all relating even more like siblings this year, even to the point of having more power struggles and conflicts. Nothing terrible, of course, and all normal and she said the hardest thing every day is separating them when it comes time for bed. She said all five of them spent the entire day yesterday peacefully building amazing things with Legos including a pizza parlor. I am pretty sure that those boys are not going to be very happy about coming home this year. I can't wait to get my eyes and hands on them. Vergil has arranged a fishing trip for Mr. Moon while we're there which is so very sweet. 

This afternoon my husband and I actually sat in the Glen Den and watched TV while he ordered some parts he needs online and I shelled the field peas I've picked. When I had to get up and attend to other things, he finished off the peas and we have more than I thought we did. Plenty for two meals, I think, and plenty more on the bushes. 

That may not look impressive to you if you've never known the ambrosia which is a bowl of field peas and rice, but if you have you do know what I'm talking about. The flavor is just so subtle and fresh and green and whole. That bowl right there- the contents of that- is one of the reasons people survived life in Florida in the early days. Peas and grits and sweet potatoes and game and fish and greens were the staples upon which people lived. A hog raised and butchered and smoked, and a cow to milk were necessary luxuries to round it all out. Crops of peas and corn and greens and sweet potatoes were fairly easy to grow, being heat tolerant and bug resistant. Throw in cane syrup and wild berries and fruit picked in season and you had dessert. The other day someone posted a question on Facebook- "If you had to make supper out of what you have in your yard and property, what would you be eating?" Someone had replied, "grass-clippings" and I felt so lucky, knowing that we could have venison or fish, peas, beans, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, garlic, and cucumbers. 
You can make a feast out of those ingredients. 
Oh. And eggs, of course. 

I wanted to get a picture of Violet and her child to show you how big that chick has gotten. I threw some stale raisin bran out by the back steps and they immediately began to peck away. 

Those babies will be full-grown soon. When I threw the cereal out, all of the chickens came running and I noticed that Darla left her kids way out by the hen house to come and peck at the bran flakes. They appeared confused for a few moments and then they ran to join her. She is lengthening the apron strings for sure. I wish I could tell which ones are roosters and which ones are hens (if indeed any of them are hens) so that I can name them and begin to feel affection for them. I may keep one rooster but definitely not two. 

Speaking of eating fish, I am going to pan fry these two pretties tonight. 

They will be good, I am sure. 
Grits, too, will be involved. 

Mr. Moon is leaving in the early morning to go back to the coast to fish with his friend and I am not unhappy about that. We had a good time today watching first a silly man-movie called Man From Toronto which was ridiculous and had some good lines in it. Woody Harrelson, Kevin Hart. I told him that since we'd watched a dick-flick, we should watch a chick-flick to balance things out and we watched about an hour of Love, Actually, which I know I've seen before but oh, who cares? 

Clean sheets. Martinis. 

Happy Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Ain't That Some Shit?

 I was in Costco today, in the produce section to be exact, when suddenly, I had such a longing to see August and Levon and their mama that I began to cry right by the peppers. I pulled out my phone to text Jess and tell her how much I missed them and found a message from her which of course happens frequently with all of us, I'm sure. I don't think this is woo-woo at all but an actual human sense ability that we have evolved with and that one day science will figure it out. 
But I just couldn't seem to stop crying. It wasn't a big huge thing, just a continual weeping that I dabbed at as I moved around the store. I saw Brenda right after I'd checked out and we had a terrific, huge hug and that made me cry even more. I had to explain why I was crying and that really, everything was okay. 
"I love you," she said. "I love you too," I answered. 
And you know what? In some way I do love that woman. She is just so pure of heart and so giving of sweetness. 
I went on to the liquor store and got to see Kevin whom I also very much enjoy talking to and when HE asked me how I was, I teared up again. I told him that I'd had a breakdown in produce and I laughed at myself and told him why and then I said, "Well, it's probably everything, you know. Like being told by the supreme court that I'm not really a whole person who can make decisions for herself."
"Aint that some shit?" he asked. "Why do they think they need to get into that business?"
"I don't know," I said, "but they sure do seem to think they really do." He rang me up and shook his head and told me to be good which is what he always says which is pretty funny considering I'm a 67-year old woman, just a kiss away from 68. 

And then I went to Publix and they had orchids buy-one-get-one and so I got two even though I am the Orchid Killer. I think my daughters have inspired me to refall in love with plants the way I used to and somehow, I just wanted those orchids. So I bought them. And I got my groceries and some grocery store sushi which I ate in my car, feeling guilty because I had completely fine leftovers at home to eat but fuck it. Let us take comfort where we can, I guess.

I think we've all probably been going through too much lately. I feel whacked upside the head by what the supreme court is coming out with and even though many of us are so very glad that Trump may finally face some sort of consequences for his actions as president, watching and hearing the congressional committee testimony has been shocking to most of us who did not know the extremes to which that man went to to try and overthrow the election results. It's also been shocking to hear how many people who have now come forward to testify against him supported him right up to the last second, even knowing what they knew. 
And I don't know about everyone else but somehow this knowledge has given me even less hope for our country and even more reason to have lost my faith in it and its citizens and its political system than I had before which wasn't much. 
Another stick on the fire of treason has come out, this time about Melania Trump whose then chief-of-staff, Stephanie Grisham tweeted the text she supposedly sent Melania while the riots were going on along with Melania's answer. 

Well. Okay then. 

One tiny bit of light came today though when Ketanji Brown Jackson made history as the first Black woman to be sworn in as a justice to the supreme court. In normal times (were there really ever any normal times?) this event would have had me soaring with joy but right now, I mostly just feel flat. Will her presence make a difference in the decisions that the current court is making? 
I hope so. I wish her all of the best and a very long life. What an amazing woman she must be. 

It's starting to rain and we need it. Doesn't look like it's going to be much of a rain but it's better than nothing, I suppose. I think I'm going to go make a risotto because I bought fresh spinach today and the thought of stirring and stirring and stirring is comforting. 
Like I said- we should take whatever comfort we can find right now. 

And by the way. I really do miss the Weatherfords. The little boys, the mama and the daddy. I am so glad we're going to see them soon. 

Hang in there, y'all. We're going through a lot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Lucky Me

It's been a rather low-key birthday for Mr. Moon. By the time I got up he'd already gone to the gym and didn't get home until hours later as he had errands to run in town. That gave me time to make the frosting for the cake. 

By the time he got home Lily and Lauren and the kids had already left their house for the Hilltop where we had decided to meet and get lunch so we hurried into our bathing costumes (I love to use that phrase) and and gather towels and the cake and got in the car to drive down the road for lunch. They weren't too far ahead of us in ordering so we were all able to eat together and thankfully, the flies weren't swarming the picnic tables outside but it was blue-blazes hot and if there's a garment that's hotter and more uncomfortable to wear in the heat than a lycra swimsuit, I don't know what it is. I had a cotton gauze dress over it but I was still dying. Or at least I felt as if I was. 

After lunch we all headed to the river and when we got there, the sky was already growing dark and ominous the way it so often is on summer afternoons. Mr. Moon and I arrived first and knowing that our time might be cut short we both dove in immediately and as I said when I surfaced, "Every time we do this it's a life-changer." 
And it is. 
The relief is just so incredibly instantaneous. 
Then the Hartmanns showed up (Lauren had to go to work) and it wasn't fifteen minutes before lightening started flashing and thunder started rumbling to the southwest. We debated whether to just leave or wait awhile to see what was going to happen, the radar was consulted and still no consensus was formed although Magnolia June was convinced that not only should we stay but that she should be allowed to play in the water (we had called them out when the lightening started) and that other kids were still playing in the water and it wasn't fair! 
I wonder how children all seem to be born with this innate sense that life should be fair. I mean- even by the age of two, it should be apparent to a child that life is frequently NOT fair at all and by the age of six one would think that we would all accept that fact as plainly as we accept the fact that french fries with ketchup are delicious. 
But no. We do not. And Maggie REALLY does not. 
(Her mother didn't either at her age but I think she's aware of the fact now.) 
We decided to go ahead and eat cake, however, and we all sang happy birthday to Boppy, and Owen and Maggie didn't want cake because of the coconut in it but Gibson, Lily, Glen, and I surely did enjoy it. German chocolate cake is just a damn fine cake. 
About this time a little girl, perhaps three or four, ran smack dab into a wooden sign post while playing and she hit that thing so hard with her sweet little noggin that the metal sign attached to it shivered and rang, and everyone at the river stopped what they were doing and we all waited in silence to see what would happen. She let out a huge wail- the sort of wail every parent knows means "this is serious" and her daddy grabbed her up and set her down on the floor of the back of the van to see what she'd done to herself and she was crying, "Is it bleeding?" so at least she hadn't knocked herself out. They put ice on her head and her father picked her back up and continued to hold her and try to comfort her and I know that everyone at the river wanted to do something to help but what could we do? There was another family with them, and everything was being taken care of but it felt so unfortunate. When I walked back to the car with our stuff a few minutes later I saw she already had a bruised-looking lump on her head that was as big as half an egg. I am still thinking about her, obviously, wondering if they took her to a doctor. I know that kids' heads are hard but I guess having been a nurse I still think of terms like skull fracture and subdural hematoma. 
I think for me, one of the hardest parts of being a parent to young children was not being sure of when it was the right thing to do to take a child in for medical help and when not to. All of us who have children remember this conundrum. You do not want to be the mom (or dad) who takes their precious child in every time they get a snotty nose nor do you want to be the the one who ignores the signs of a possibly threatening bacterial infection. 
Does this wound need stitches? 
Does this bump need to be checked? 
Is this rash newborn normal? 
Is this a virus which will pass or an infection that needs antibiotics?
Does inhaling Mexican baby powder constitute a possible medical emergency? (Asking for a friend.)
Back in the olden days, we had no internet to check things out before making that decision but we did have Dr. Spock and I don't know what I would have done without him. I remember diagnosing one of my children with an inguinal hernia and taking her to the doctor. I told him what I suspected (based on what dear Dr. Spock had told me) and he was impressed with my diagnostic skills.

Anyway, what in hell was I talking about? 
Oh yeah. My husband and his birthday. 
I wonder how many words I've written here over the years talking about what a good man my husband is and how grateful and fortunate I am that I caught his eye that night back in 1983. 
In a bar. 
Wearing my friend Sue's sweater.

When I got up this morning I found a note from him in front of the coffee pot. It thanked me for loving and nurturing him the way I do and gave me the credit for him living to the age of 68. 
It's funny how we love and how we express love changes as we age. And it may be even funnier how those things don't change in some ways. 
In the river today we hugged and kissed each other and I thought about how some of the younger people there probably thought either, "Ugh. Really?" or "Oh, isn't that cute?"
You know what? 
I love his hugs and his kisses as much or even more than I did when we were both twenty-nine. Each one of them is precious. 
He is precious. 

Here's a picture of him and Ms. "It-Isn't-Fair" Magnolia June three years ago. 

Happy birthday, my love.

Ms. Moon

Birthday Eve Day For Mr. Moon

So after bragging about the glory of the crepe myrtles this year, I took that picture this morning and it looks like it was hand-tinted by someone not very enthusiastic about color but trust me- in real life it looks much more vibrant.

Humidity back up to the upper 60 percent today and temperature back up into the nineties so of course I decided to take another walk after yesterday's pleasant experience and I chose to walk down to Lloyd Creek Road which is lovely and shady once you get there but hell on this earth when you're on the road to it. When I started out, it was a bit overcast and I thought that would help but the clouds saw me coming and said, "Hey! Let's get out of the way! This woman needs heat stroke!" 
Or something. 
But I did it and discovered when a friend texted me that there was a special Jan. 6 hearing today starting at one so that gave me a great reason to go sit down for a few hours which was heavenly. I started patching a very, very old favorite blue linen shirt but it's a wonder I got anything done on it. The witness today was a woman named Cassidy Hutchinson who somehow had an entire political life in the White House before the age of 26 which is how old she is now. She was top aide to Mark Meadows who was Trump's chief of staff for a few years and my take-away from her testimony is that as crazy as we all knew that 45 is, we now know that he is a true and genuine madman.
Look. I can't even begin to go into it all but if that man isn't hung for treason there is no justice in this world. As I keep telling my husband- I do not believe in capital punishment but in this case I will make an exception. 
Okay. Not really. I truly do not believe in society's right to kill a human being but if anyone deserves it, it would be the man who brought this country to the brink of an overthrow and whose presidency will be a curse to this nation for decades after he lost the election in 2020. 
You know what I'm talking about. 

So. That was an interesting afternoon. I can't believe I still have the capacity to be shocked by these reports of his actions and behaviors but I will admit that I am. 
The thing that scares me is that Trump's supporters are going to take this testimony which includes him trying to grab the wheel of the presidential limousine (The Beast) to force the driver to take him to the Capitol to meet the rioters and urge them on, as proof that he was willing to do anything to keep his promise to be there with them as they stormed the Capitol. With weapons. That he knew they had. That he obviously encouraged them having. And to possibly murder Mike Pence. 

It's all just so unbelievable. 
People ask me why I'm watching these hearings and all I can answer is, "History." This all makes Watergate look like bird poop at a picnic. And that was bad. 

Sigh. 

Tomorrow is Mr. Moon's birthday. He claims he does not want to acknowledge it. "It's just like any other day," he says. But- hey. I want to celebrate the birth-day of the man I love. I've made three layers of a German chocolate cake today and will make the sinfully, beautifully decadent filling tomorrow. I had forgotten how many steps there are to German chocolate cake. Chocolate must be melted, of course (and I always use twice the amount the recipe calls for), the eggs separated and the whites whipped, the flour and baking soda and salt sifted before adding to the creamed butter and sugar and egg yolks, and then the egg whites folded in. I made him the same cake the first year we were together. We were staying at the beach with his parents, his sister, her husband, their children and Hank and May, and I was overwhelmed, truthfully. But his parents were so very kind to me and I will never forget how, while I was making this complicated cake in a rental kitchen, his daddy put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Thank you for giving our son back to us and making him so happy." 
I think that Mr. Moon's first marriage had been a bit difficult for their family. And it was on that trip that I saw how Glen's daddy treated all of the children as if they were blood-kin, mine and Mr. Moon's sister's step-daughter. No difference. And I knew that he had told Glen when we first got together that it wasn't enough for him to fall in love with me. He had to fall in love with my children, too. 
And that is what I think of when I make German chocolate cake. 
Food is not only love, it is also a conjurer of memory. 

I think we're going to meet up with Lily and her kids at the river and he's talking about taking the kayak. That'll be sweet. We can all eat cake and swim and paddle about and take a day off to honor the man who is husband, father, grandfather. 

I am looking forward to it. I hope my husband is too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Busy As A Little Bee. Not Really

I took a walk this morning and wisely forced myself to walk a bit slower than usual and by doing so, I not only did not die but I was also able to cover more ground. It was hot but again, the humidity has not been as bad and I was glad to be outside and moving. 

That picture is a bit of a miracle because:

A. It's so bright out that I can't even really see what I'm aiming at, and
B. Bee. 

I knew there was a bee because I waited for it to enter that velvet tunnel but the odds of getting that fine of a shot as it exited were next to nothing. I was shocked when I got home and looked at it. Those are a neighbor's morning glories. I love them so. 

Some of the morning glories were climbing into some crepe myrtle which appears to love hot dry weather. It seems to be stunningly vibrant this year. 

I walked up to the GDFDG and got a few shots. 

Obviously none of my attempts at halting the project have done one bit of good. The lights are on, baby. Nobody's home yet but they will be.

Nice fill dirt, right? And that is how they will prevent the place from washing away. I still harbor evil thoughts about what could happen during a tropical storm. 

Anyway...
I walked on over to Main Street and passed what used to be a sort-of trailer park which is right across the road from the post office. It was there when I first lived in Lloyd in the late seventies and I'm sure it had already been there for quite awhile. One of the trailers, now abandoned, had some gorgeous hydrangea blooming in front of it near the road and I helped myself to some. I brought them home and have them in a pitcher-vase, hoping that they will root. 

You can see that there are two types there. The purple ones are French hydrangea, I think, and the others are oak-leaf hydrangea which are a less domesticated version. They are, to my eye, so elegant. Both of them. 

And so it's been a slow, easy day for me. I've hung laundry, I've done some ironing which we all know is just a good excuse for me to watch TV. 

And now I'm going to make another shrimp salad. This one with shrimp that Mr. Moon bought on his way home from the coast yesterday. When they came in, Chip hugged me hard and said, "I am so, so sorry," and I knew he was talking about the supreme court decision and I cried. It is good to know that there are men who understand, at least as much as they can, what this decision means to and for women. 

And yes, I saw that today they busted out the first bricks of the edifice of the division of church and state by saying that some shithead Christian high school coach can pray on the football field after a game and invite others to join him. While he's on coach time. While he's being paid. 
Anyone who believes that their god gives a flying fuck about whether or not their football team wins or loses is, in my opinion, an ignorant, superstitious ass (to say the least) but that has no bearing on this supreme court who should have thrown the case out to begin with. And let's not even mention the fact that Jesus himself told people not to pray in public. But these people haven't actually read a Bible, have they? 

Well, there you are. Today's report from the enchanted land of Lloyd, Florida. 

 

Love...Ms. Moon

Repeating History, To Our Great Detriment And Astonishment

Yesterday evening May sent a around a text saying that she'd just gotten off work and was sitting outside her apartment and that it was so beautiful and any of us who could, should go outside for a little while too. 
Of course I'd spent a great deal of time outside already but it's never a bad idea, if the weather's nice, to sit on the front porch. I am so damn lucky to live here where I live, surrounded by these oak trees. 

So much green. The little lady Golden Orb weaver spider in the photo at the top is the first one I've seen on the porch so far. She will grow to be much bigger. There's a dead one behind her and whether that was a male or another female who just didn't make it, I do not know. There will be more webs with more spiders as the summer progresses. They will mate and will lay their eggs and build and rebuild webs and when it gets cold in the fall, they will have lived out their span and their children will be back next summer to take over the duties of spiders. 

It has been back up into the nineties today but the humidity is down in the lower thirty percent so it has not seemed so hellish. I didn't do any actual work in the garden but I picked beans and tomatoes. Even my seemingly indestructible rattlesnake beans have taken a hit from the heat, yielding half as much as they usually do this time of year but between the ones I picked today and the ones I've picked recently, I had enough to make getting the canning kettle out worthwhile. So I did. 

Back to trimming and jar sterilizing and brine making. I only made six pints though, saving enough back to make supper for me and Glen and Chip who will be getting back from the island soon. 

I hope they're good. 

I also picked my first handful of field peas today. I will wait until I get a decent amount and then either I or Mr. Moon will shuck them. Those and the green beans are truly the only things that show any signs of bounty this year. My tomato plants are turning yellow, drying up. Same for peppers and cucumbers. Been a hard year for the garden. 

I don't have much to say this evening. I am still low in my spirits. Last night I watched about half an hour of "The Janes", a documentary on HBO about a group of women who helped other women from 1969 to 1973 to get safe abortions in Chicago when they were still illegal and women were dying from back-alley abortions and self-induced abortions. 
I am not an easily triggered woman. It has happened before, but not as frequently as it happens to other people who have been in traumatic situations. However, this doc triggered me. I was not quite as old as those women- I graduated high school in 1972, but I definitely remember those times and when I was going to college in Denver, I volunteered at a place called the Open Clinic where we helped people with everything from possible drug overdoses to legal problems to getting mental health treatment to women needing abortions. Those women had to go to either California or New York, generally, because that's where it was legal. I suppose that's when I became radicalized. And watching these incredibly brave women in Chicago talk about how women were dying because of the lack of safe and legal abortion and how they started helping took me right back to those times when women were shamed and shunned if they got pregnant "out of wedlock" and birth control pills had just recently become available and only more recently available to unmarried women and how incredibly hard it was for a woman to have control over her own reproductive system short of not having penetrative sex (unless she was raped, of course) and I just kept thinking of all of the courageous and determined women who worked so hard for women to achieve the legal right to get abortions  and...well...I was overcome. 
I had to turn it off. 

So that's where I guess I am on this post-supreme court ruling journey right now. Every memory unlocks another memory and a resulting realization and with my age and experience, another perspective on all of it. Right now I am thinking of how, when I was raised, there were "good girls" and "bad girls" and only the bad girls had sex and the good girls waited until marriage and I realized fairly early on that I was not going to be a virgin on my wedding day and so I assumed I was a bad girl and accepted that as truth. Men, of course, had no such constraints but were expected to have as much sex as they possibly could and let the devil take his due. 

The problem with that of course, is that only the women got pregnant and only the women were marked as bad, as wicked, as sluts, as whores, as loose, as easy, as defiled, as impure, as "in trouble."
In trouble. 
Where we all are now again. 

Well. 

See you tomorrow.

Love... Ms. Moon