Bless Our Hearts

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Keep Moving


Anxiety? Depression?
Anxiety? Depression?
Let's call it anxpression. 
For when you don't know which is the overriding malady of the day.

So whatever you want to call it, it's pulling me down and over and through. Sometimes anxiety is described as a sense that something horrible is about to happen any/every moment.
THE SKY IS FALLING! THE SKY IS FALLING!
But sometimes, it seems to me, that anxiety feels more like something completely elemental and necessary is missing. Or about to go missing.
Something so important that it may be glue of sanity, of life itself.
I don't know.
I do not know shit.

But this morning I thought about what I could do to try and feel better and I decided to cut some greens and take them down to Ms. Liola because I hadn't seen her in forever and I knew she must be worried and besides that, I feel so guilty because I haven't been back to see her since I tried to help her get an AC last year and realized that if you plugged an AC unit in that trailer, the whole thing would
(a) collapse, and
(b) burn down.

So I cut mostly collards and some mustards and kale and wrapped them up and tied them with string like a green bundled baby and walked down to her place. I saw the Sheik, out in the yard and called to him and he said, "Where you been? We all been worried about you."
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said. "Is Liola home?"
"She's home," he said and went to the trailer and called out at the door, "Lee! Someone here wanting to see you."
And she came to the door and oh god, y'all. She was SO happy to see me. I can't even tell you.
Which made me feel worse than I had before.
We talked and caught up and she laughed, remembering the time I brought Owen and Gibson to visit her. I don't think she'll ever forget that. I asked about her grands in Texas and she said they might come visit in June and her son's trying to help her figure out how to get a new trailer or something. Move her to Texas maybe.
I would hate to see her move but someone has to help this woman. I don't know how in hell she could last another summer in that falling apart metal box.
Then we got to talking about the election and I told her that I hadn't been right since that day and she said she felt the same. We began to talk about the things going on, the scary, horrible things, and I cried and she felt so bad for me and kept saying, "I know! I know! I feel the same way. But you're going to be okay!"
"I want everyone to be okay!" I said. "Everyone!"
Which I know is completely ridiculous but I do and then she kept telling me that if I ever needed anything, to call on her which shamed me so bad because I have everything in this world I need and she doesn't even have floors she can walk on in certain places.
Fuck. What a world.
And of course all of that made me cry even more and I'm crying now and does it seem sometimes as if all I do is cry?
She finally came down from her steps and put her arms around me and said, "I got to get me a hug now," and I said, "Don't let me breathe on you. I've been sick."
And she said, "That's all right."
And what a hug it was.

We ended up with her telling me she was going to cook those greens today. I asked if she was going to make cornbread to go with them and she laughed and said, "You know it."

And then I went on and walked a short and fairly slow walk. The fally-down house is getting closer to gravity every day.


I wanted to take a picture of the end on the right side where the only thing holding it up seems to be a tree which has grown up there but it's surrounded by poison ivy and I wasn't risking that.

So. That was every bit of anything worth doing that I did today. I feel like I'm going to come out of my skin and I feel such despair at the thought of everything. That man, that horrible, horrible man, is determined to kill us all with his deregulations on the environment and we're just sitting here letting him and the drug industry is doing everything it can to addict people to its products and deny us the right to cannabis and people like Ms. Liola are in dire straits already with the tiny pittance that Social Security and Medicare may provide and are in danger of losing even that while The Braggadocio in Chief swells and swells with pride and gluttony and vows to stuff even more money down the glutted craw of the military and build a wall to keep out his perceived enemies, the very people upon whose backs his fortunes have been made in many instances, and you don't need me to tell you.
You know.
We all know. Even the ones who hold their hands out to steady him as he totters off to his golden toilet in his golden palace, who bow their heads at his passing and pat his back with feigned affection and we all know, we all know, that no one in this world has any real affection for him at all but are only there because the winds of fortune and power seem to be blowing that way although it would seem to me that it is apparent to even those toadies that this is an ephemeral wind indeed and in the end, history will report that all of the King's horses and all of the King's men could not even begin to put that man back together again once he has fallen from that golden throne.

I am getting a few more chicks tomorrow. I think I will get to see August. Maybe Jessie and I will walk down to show him off to Ms. Liola who, when she met him last year, was charmed by his baby ways.
I am not going to lose hope. Not for any of us. I am going to remember how, upon parting, I took Liola's hand and we patted each other as softly as a mother pats her baby's bottom.
I am going to try and be the person Liola says I am which is a loving and caring person. I am going to try and use whatever anxiety and depression I have to make me a more empathetic and aware person. If I must suffer it, then goddam it, I want to reap some benefit.

We're going to be okay. We're going to be okay.
We are going to be okay.

Believe. Breathe. Don't give up and don't forget to look for beauty, to hold out your hand to another, to absolutely not give up.

Love...Ms. Moon



Mixed Media



Poem of the Day: Blackout

BY MARGARET FISHBACK
When life seems gray
And short of fizz
It seems that way
Because it is.

I can't even tell you how much I love that poem. 

Not to change the subject or anything but here are the baby chickens enjoying their greens. 


From top left you see Nora, Trinky, Tronky, Dearie, Nicey, and Hawk.

I'm having one of those days. Mr. Moon asked me if I have any plans for the day. 
"No," I said. "Not really."
I lied. 
My plan is stay alive if at all possible because surely things will be better soon. 

How about you? Do you have a plan? I'd love to know. 

Yours truly...Ms. Moon



 

Monday, March 27, 2017

Babies, The Beach, Birds, And So Forth

My time in town went quite well. I hit the wall just as it was all winding down and I could come home, which was lovely because I put everything away and laid on my bed and read for awhile and then went to sleep. Mr. Moon had already come and gone to go to auction so it was just me and a quiet house.

But oh, how sweet it was to see Magnolia and Gibson. Maggie came running to me when I got to Lily's house and I picked her up and loved her. She's such a fat, ripe peach of a girl. She's getting curls now and with those and her rosy little bow mouth, she looks like a Bessie Pease Gutman baby and, true story- when her grandfather and I had been seeing each other for about a month, we went to New Orleans together and while we were there we did a lot of things including having the strangest shared psychic experience of our lives at a drug-dealer's house, drinking many, many Irish coffees, eating every wonderful food that New Orleans has to offer, telling each other we loved each other for the first time... and buying this print.


That picture hung over our bed for many years and a year after buying it we were married and I was as barely yet positively pregnant as a whisper with Lillian Rose who is now the mother of Maggie June whom, I hear, when it is time for bed now, walks to her crib and when she is set in it, she lies down and goes to sleep. 
I had heard of mythical babies like this but I have never met one before. 
Here is what she looked like today, eating an ice cream cone.


We think she figured that the cone was a cup of sorts and that the soft ice cream was to be drunk from it and so she leaned back in her stroller and proceeded to experience a sort of heaven. You can't see her little curls but they are at the back of her head. Trust me. They are there. 

And here's her big brother Gibson, eating his ice cream cone, which he served himself, being five now. I take it that turning five means that one is old enough to self-serve self-serve ice cream. 


He had wanted chocate and valilla. Which is what he got. 

I could hardly keep my hands off those children today. I took any excuse to kiss and touch them. I even showed Gibson how Gomez Addams romanced his wife Morticia by kissing her arm and passionately calling her, "Quierda mia," using his arm to demonstrate. 

Oh Lord. I just realized how creepy that sounds. 
Oh well. Fuck it. I am not creepy in the least when it comes to my grandchildren. I merely want to eat them alive which is as normal as normal can be. 

I told Gibson, "You are so handsome."
"Yeah," he said. 
And he is. 

And when he and I were in Publix after our lunch with Hank and Rachel, he said, apropos of absolutely nothing, "My mommy has a beautiful face."
He felt compelled for some reason to inform everyone that I was his grandmother. I think it might have been because he didn't want anyone to be under the misapprehension that such an old woman could be his mother. 

And so it was. I didn't get to see Owen because he was still in school and Jessie and Vergil took August to the beach so I didn't get to see him either but look at this.


And this.


I am SO glad that Vergil could take the day off and they could go. My little beach monkey. When they go up to Asheville for the summer he will get to play in creeks and rivers and on mountains, and when he is here, he gets to play at the beach and soon, we'll be going the Wacissa to dip in the beautiful, cold spring fed river there. 
A lucky boy. 
A beautiful, lucky boy. 

And I am such a lucky grandma to have these gorgeous blossoms of children to love. And my children, too. It was a joy to see both Lily and Hank. I felt as if I hadn't seen them in years instead of a week. 

So. Here I am. Sun just setting. Chickens getting ready to go to roost, some already in the hen house. Speaking of hens, I bought this planter at Publix today.


I almost want to buy a flock of them. I'm not sure what I'll plant in this one, but it will be fun to figure it out. At ten dollars apiece, I could even buy a small flock of them to put somewhere in the yard or on a porch. 

The birds are trilling their night songs. There is call and there is response, tree to tree. 
And for this moment in time, despite quite a bit of evidence to the contrary, I feel as if all is right with the world. 

I wish that everyone everywhere could know this feeling for at least a heartbeat. That doesn't seem so much to ask, does it? 
God, I wish it weren't. 

Love...Ms. Moon


Girding My Loins!

Well. I am going to leave the property today. I'm going to Lily's and then we're going to the grocery store and then to lunch after we pick up Gibson.
So. I'll get to see half of my grandchildren which is far better than seeing none of my grandchildren. Owen is in school and Jessie and Vergil are taking August to the beach today.

Wish me luck. Just tending the chickens and watering the porch plants has left me feeling a bit exhausted.

But I am determined!



Sunday, March 26, 2017

Another Day

I have nothing to report except that I am some better and I think this is whatever-it-is-I-get-sometimes when I get a virus. Maybe an Epstein Barr thing? A remission and exacerbation thing?
I don't know.
Neither did all the doctors I sought help from decades ago when it started showing up and I doubt that they would be able to now, either. All I have to do is to be patient and take care of myself. Or at least, that is what experience has shown me.

And none of this is either here nor there but I did make the most outrageous arugula pesto tonight with pine nuts and pecans and I'm alive and because of Mr. Moon, the garden now has tomatoes and peppers and eggplants in it and if I don't get to see my babies soon, I'm going to die.

Here's what we're eating for supper tonight.


My obituary should read (take note!):

Whatever. She could cook.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, March 25, 2017

Simple Pleasures


When I took some lettuce to the littles today, I found Trixie sitting on their coop. She just looked so pretty I had to take her picture. My oldest hen and she still sings little tunes to us. I will be so sad when she is gone. I can't remember how long ago it was that we got her but I do remember the situation. A guy Mr. Moon knew was about to move and he and his wife had to give up their chickens and hearing that we had started keeping chickens at our place, they offered them to us. We went to their house in the woods and waited until the birds had all fallen asleep at roost and we gathered them up and brought them home. I'm sure I wrote about it but Lord, how to find that particular post?
She must be ancient though. I found her sitting on the nest today and I laughed a little. I doubt she's laid an egg in three years.
She pays for her keep with her singing and that is plenty.

Mr. Moon built some beautiful stairs today. He took the old rotten boards up and swept off the even older cement steps that were under them.


These were obviously added to the house before this particular porch was put on because the entrance way to the porch is way wider than those steps and people would be falling off and breaking their legs constantly if they hadn't been replaced. I suppose it was just easier to build over them than to remove them. 
Anyway, here's what the new ones look like. 


Brand-spanking new. We're going to let them air for awhile and then maybe paint them. 

My husband can do just about anything that requires doing around a house. He can do plumbing and carpentry and even a bit of electric work. He can figure things out. He's amazing that way. Not a day goes by that I am not completely dumbfounded at my good fortune in having him as my husband. 
The day I met that ridiculously tall Tennessee boy was the luckiest day of my life. 
He's my own Tarzan and my own Daniel Boone and my own sweetheart for life. 

Last night we took a stroll out to the garden and after almost two weeks my beans had finally come up. I had completely given up on them due to the freeze we had but look at this-


The whole row of them is at least three inches tall. The cucumber seeds I planted have come up too, finally, as well as the few squash I planted. I am amazed! And the potatoes which the freeze seemed to kill are coming back just fine. I did a little weeding around them today. 

And so that's what's been going on here. I still feel like shit and if I don't improve dramatically soon, I'm going to have to go to the doctor for an actual illness which hasn't happened in I don't know how long. 
Oh god. 
But I haven't seen my grandchildren in days and days and I can't take that much longer. 
I miss 'em like air. 

The Bradford Pears are beginning to bloom. Seems like they just lost their leaves. 

Life goes on. 

Be well, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. 

An odd and happy carrot.


Replacing Back Porch Steps


Friday, March 24, 2017

I Might Live

I think I may finally have turned a corner. Not sure but I'm not worrying (too much) that I'm dying of some horrible illness at this point, and I have to say that the thought has crossed my mind more than once in the past few days. I'm still running a little fever but usually, late afternoon is the worst time of all for fever and it's not that bad today.

I didn't do squat again today except for moving the babies out to the coop in the coop and cleaning the bathtub really well and getting it ready for some more babies. A friend of Lily's and mine has become the ultimate chicken lady and she's offered to give me a few of her spring bounty and I'm pretty excited about that. She's incubated a bunch of eggs and at least one of her hens has given her babies and she not only works as a surgical tech but also has a not-quite two-year old, has a cottage business making preserves, and is now running what could be called a chicken ranch.
Some people have a lot of energy and this woman is one of them.

I'm not.

Which is fine with me. As I've said before, I am like Popeye in that I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam.

So tonight is the night that the little birds will be spending their first night outside. I'm sure they will be fine. Mr. Moon and I just went out and gave them some grapes to eat and the big chickens were already in the coop for their evening feed-snacking and water-drinking and for some reason, they don't seem to be concerned at all about the babies. I looked at Mick and said, "Well, boy, you ready for some new hens?"
He just looked at me, side-eyed, the way chickens do.
I like Mick just fine but he will never be Elvis. I'm sure that I projected every noble thing onto Elvis that I could possibly project onto a rooster but he was everything a rooster should be to my mind.
Plus- beautiful.

Well, I better go make us some supper.

It's getting late.

I hear an owl calling off in the distance.
I am grateful for this life, right here and right now.
Also- Obamacare was not overturned.
There are miracles both big and small. I'll leave you and history to decide which one that is.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not Much To Say



Here are the babies in their new outdoor residence. They seem to love it.
Violet went to roost last night in the hen house with the rest of the chickens so I don't think she's too upset.
And I'm still sick and am more than ready to stop being so.

That's it from Lloyd.

Happy Friday.

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, March 23, 2017

The Daily News From Your Resident Chicken Handler

Y'all- I have been sick. I spent all day yesterday sitting on the couch watching The Real Housewives of NYC. I didn't knit, I didn't sew, I didn't do anything but watch spoiled brats with plastic surgery-ed faces and bodies do insane things.
Oh. I did take a nap.

I feel a little bit better today but to be honest- not great. Not great at all.

BUT. Today was the day. I couldn't take those stinky eggs any more and I don't have the energy to try and deal with going to the Tractor Supply and buying surrogate babies for the mental health of a chicken. I took Violet off the nest and Mr. Moon moved the little tractor coop so I could get the eggs (gloves were involved and thank god my nose is all stopped up because it was still nasty) and I threw them all deep in the woods and that...is...that.

Suddenly the bathtub babies are absolutely not peeps anymore.


Would you look at the feathers on Nicey? She's not even the same bird, it would seem. 
And it is time, past time, to take these chicks outside. The bathtub with its feeder and waterer and occasional treats of grapes and lettuce is not enough. I think today after all of the big chickens have settled down and are done inspecting the changes which have been wrought in their coop I will take them outside for a little field trip and bring them back in tonight. Chickens are extremely curious and mine are no exception. They are all in the coop right now, which is unusual for this time of day, walking about and chatting and exclaiming and exploring. Violet is eating. God knows she needs to. 

I have one thing to say about the attack in Great Britain yesterday and it is this- the British have much to teach us about fortitude, courage, and common sense.

Perhaps someday, if we are very lucky, we will be mature enough as a nation to learn from their example. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Annoying


You probably can't really see much from that picture but it's a guy standing on a train track repairing thing. It's connected to a giant crane-like machine and they're working right behind my house with great machinery noises and yelling and squeaking of brakes and occasional big blasty BLAMS! and I have no idea what they're doing but I swear to god it seems like they've been working on that little piece of track forever and ever since dirt was clean and chickens were dinosaurs.

It is annoying.

This cold or whatever I have is also annoying. I just feel so tired and shitty and not quite bad enough to get back in bed but not good enough to do anything. Mr. Moon sweated and froze for a few hours last night and did not eat any soup. He wanted some ginger ale and crackers so I drove down to the little store by the now-closed truck stop and purchased him some from the night-crawler lady who works there 24 hours a day, seven days a week as far as I can tell. She's not an albino, or at least I don't think she is, but she does look as if sunlight has not touched her in decades. The little store is owned and operated by the same family which has owned and operated it for one million years, or longer than they've been working on that little piece of railroad, and she has always been there. I have said before and I do believe this- I think she must sleep on a tiny cot in a back room.
If she is allowed to sleep.
Her fingers are practically translucent, her eyes never meet anyone else's eyes, but she sure can ring up your purchase and ask if you want a bag.
Also? They are now selling gator heads of various sizes at that store.
Lloyd is odd in some ways.
But. Back to Mr. Moon. So by bedtime he said he was feeling much better and he never did throw up and he's back at work again. I hear that Vergil never threw up either so this may be an entirely different illness than the one everyone else had because that illness certainly involved a great deal of throwing up, as well as other bathroom-related activities if you know what I mean and I feel sure that you do.

Violet is still sitting on those eggs. She appeared to have kicked another one out of the pile this morning and I took it and threw it in the woods. It's just a big pile of nasty mess at this point and truthfully, I need that tractor coop for Nicey and Dearie and Trinky and Tronky and Nora and Hawk because it's time for them to get out of the tub for at least a few hours a day and learn about dirt and bugs and so forth. When I went out to check on the situation a few moments ago, I found Trixie and Butterscotch perched on the side of the little coop.


They jumped down when I started inspecting the nest but they certainly seem interested in whatever-in-hell is going on. I wish they could tell me. Frankly I believe that putrefaction is the only thing going on there but I guess I'm going to give little mama a few more days. 
I have no idea why.

And that is all of the news from Lloyd although of course it's not. Every house and every mobile home and every residence of every sort whether man-made, bird-built or fox-hollowed has its own news and I would be most horribly speciescentric (I'm sure that's not a word) as well as egocentric and narcissistic to pretend otherwise. 

Can I go back to bed now?

Love...Ms. Moon