Friday, January 19, 2018

Need An Apron?

I should be embarrassed to show you that. It's the cabinet in my center island where I keep aprons, napkins, place mats, dish towels and dish cloths.
Bit of a mess, eh?
So today as a way to keep myself occupied without having to actually do something like mop all of the floors which desperately needed it due to all of the demolition dust, I decided to tidy the cabinet.
I must have twenty aprons. I swear. Fancy aprons, restaurant aprons, homemade aprons, vintage aprons- you name the type of apron and I have it. And quite frankly, I do not know what I plan on doing with all of them. I do wear a few and I hang a few in my kitchen but come on! 
And dish towels. Dish towels which I get in Mexico and they last forever and so I have about forty of those, big ones and small ones. Also, jokey ones ("Hey Skinny! Eat a biscuit!") and again, vintage ones.
Dish cloths? I use dish cloths for the most part instead of sponges. People always talk about how germ-ridden their kitchen sponges are. Well, I use a dish cloth for a day or two and then throw it in the bleach load pile. I bleach my sponges too, truthfully. I have a goodly plenty of dish cloths.
And napkins? I buy them at Goodwill and thrift stores. Very few people seem to use cloth napkins but a lot of people either buy them or get them as presents and then, eventually, they donate them and I buy them because I do use them. I must have dozens and dozens of those.
So. I pulled everything out of that cabinet and folded up the aprons and went through the napkins and threw away the polyester ones and put the worn out cotton ones in the rag pile and folded all of them and put them in stacks according to size.
I went through the dish towels and threw the ones not worth keeping into the rag pile too. Same with the dish cloths. The place mats were not very out-of-hand but I did actually throw a few of those away too. And then I put everything back and now it looks like this.

It ain't perfect, but it's better. 

And then I did sweep and mop the floors and ignored the white dust which covers everything else. Why bother trying to do something about that before this project is completed? I just could not deal with the floors the way they were though, so that's why they got my attention.

So now I have Superheroes at my house.
"What's your name?" I asked the smaller Superhero on the right as I velcroed the back of his costume. 
"Black Panther," he said. 
"Oh. Of course," I said, thinking that Black Panthers have certainly changed since I was young. 

And then I played some Parcheesi with the Superheroes. 

Spider Man and Black Panther found it hilarious that I couldn't get my pawns out of the circle for anything and when I did, I got sent right back AND I kept rolling sixes. Over and over and over again. Meanwhile, they were speeding around the board like little demons. I had forgotten that it takes approximately one human lifetime to finish a game of Parcheesi and luckily Boppy arrived in time to save me from the Eternal Game. 

So that's what's going on around here. I'm about to bake some tasty frozen pizzas and call that supper. I don't know if we'll get pancakes in the morning because the boys have to be ready to be picked up a little after nine as Owen has some sort of baseball event. 
I'll cook a sweet potato, just in case. 

Oh. And Lucy laid another beautiful blue-green egg today of gigantic proportions. 
All of the hens are laying except for Miss Camellia who is so old as to be vintage herself. 
And I do not mind that at all. She's my sweet old lady and she comes up onto the porch every day for a little handful of cat food and I gladly give it to her. 
She was Kathleen's hen and I will tend to her as long as she lives. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Current Events Plus Nostalgia

We had a large group of us at the Costco today. Rachel wanted to come and Lily and Jason both came with Ms. Magnolia whom you can see here wearing what I like to think of as her Brit Mod coat and hat ensemble which my mother made for Jessie when she was a little munchkin. Maggie looks adorable in it.

Jessie brought Levon and August too and so it was a cousin, auntie, sort-of-auntie, uncle, mama, daddy, MerMer event. I wish I'd gotten a picture of Rachel. She's just had her hair colored the loveliest shade of purple and it suits her so well. We love Rachel to pieces. All of us do.

Here are Jessie and her boys.

August was in super high spirits and entertained himself for a good long while by pretending to sneeze as loudly as he could. There was hardly anybody else there today and I suppose that Costco is able to run the data involving temperature, day of the week, day of the month, other weather conditions, flu levels in the population as reported by the hospitals, etc., etc. in order to decide when sampling would be most effective and today wasn't it. 
Maggie and August were extremely disappointed in that there were no treats at all until we got to the end of the store where they sell crackers and cookies and energy bars. A woman was sampling brownie brittle and another woman was sampling Annie's gummy bears. 
Finally- TREATS!

So that was our big outing and then Lily and her crew and Rachel decided to go get Indian buffet and first I said, no, I wasn't going to go and then I said, oh hell, why not?
While we were there, we got a text from Jessie with this picture. 

Boppy had taken his Mer-maid lunch over to Jessie's to eat there and see the boys. I had finally handed over the overalls although I could have spent months embroidering more and more and more...but August wanted them and so there he is, wearing them. 
I am bereft. I have nothing else to embroider on now which means that I have no excuse to sit on the couch and watch TV. 

Rachel and I went into the Goodwill bookstore and shopped around a bit. I got an Armistead Maupin book which I think I've already read and an Anthony Boudain which I know I haven't read and also, a very old copy of The Five Little Peppers Abroad for Rachel to give Hank. When I was a little girl I loved The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew and my two oldest children loved it too. I don't believe I ever read about their adventures abroad but I am sure it's charming as hell. As I said to Rachel when we were looking at the vintage books, I have no idea why it was such a pervasive theme in children's literature back in the olden days to have one or both parents die, leaving children to fend for themselves in the cruel, cruel world. 
But it was. Perhaps the reality of the time?
And honey, kids didn't go to therapy in those days, neither the ones who had lost their parents or those of us who read the books and sobbed our eyes out. 
Heidi, anyone? The Little Princess?
And then of course there were the books about animals which were propaganda for the anti-cruelty for animals movement like Beautiful Joe and Black Beauty. 
God. It's a fucking wonder any of us survived intact, especially considering that no one had gotten around to decruelalizing Grimm's fairytales or cleaning up the blatant racism of Little Black Sambo and Rudyard Kipling's books and Uncle Remus and my favorite, Doctor Doolittle. 
And yet, we did and some of us have fairly healthy outlooks on life and are not racists but I'm not sure why. 

We're going to get more temps in the twenties tonight but then it's going to start warming up a little bit. 

I've got a venison roast in a slow, slow oven, cooking it the old fashioned way and it's nestled in between potatoes and carrots and onions and green beans. All of my current chickens are in the nest although I had to look around a bit to find little Miss Violet. She was almost hidden, cuddled in a nest of straw where they sometimes lay, on the floor next to the door. I have to take them warm water in the mornings because the water in their waterers is frozen but they seem to be handling it all quite well. 

Owen and Gibson are spending the night tomorrow and I am glad of that. I have not seen them nearly enough lately. There is only so much MerMer to go around and quite frankly, MerMer needs at least a bit of time to herself which has been in short supply but we'll have fun with those boys. I have pizzas and sherbet and perhaps they will want to take a warm, cozy bath in Mer's big tub before they go to sleep tomorrow night. I have bacon, and I have sweet potatoes to cook to make pancakes with. 
Soon, August must come and spend the night. It's way past time and I think he'll do fine. He knows and loves his Bop and Mer and will probably feel quite at home here. 
And Maggie. Oh, my Maggie. Remember when she spent the night and I was trying to get her to sleep and she said in the most piteous and precious tones, "But where's my passie?" meaning her pacifier and I felt as if I had failed at the most basic task of all but I found it for her and all was well?
Sometimes don't you wish you, too, had a passie?
I do. 

Good night, Sweetlings. 
See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, January 17, 2018


Jessie took this picture of me kissing Levon today.

I love the expression on his face. Like, "All right, you silly grandmother. I will tolerate your kisses because you amuse me but do not take advantage of my good mood."

He's lucky I didn't kiss him to pieces. He's lucky I didn't get every bit of sugar he has. 

Treasure Hunting

I remembered what it was I was going to say this morning and it was that Mr. Moon and I watched the first of the new David Letterman interviews on the Netflix series, "My Next Guest Needs No Introduction."
The guest was Barack Obama and it was like a breath of hopeful fresh air to see him, hear him. There was quite a bit of John Lewis in there and overall, we just enjoyed it so much. Letterman is obviously not as interested in the promotion of movies by stars as he used to be. He seems a different man but he sure does love Obama. He kept saying, "Mr. President, I know you need to get back to the Oval Office but..."
Anyway, I recommend that interview, at least. The rest may be pure crap but then again, they might not be.

Jessie and her boys met me at the Goodwill today and we actually spent over an hour in there. Maybe two. August was unbelievably good, sitting in my cart and talking to me and playing with a few toys we picked up from the shelves and looking at a few books. Levon slept for most of the time and Jessie found some really cute clothes.
I didn't.
Nor did I find any overalls. Here's what I bought:
1. An Elmo toy for August which plays a lullaby and says, "Good night." This is the sort of toy somewhat frowned upon by August's parents which of course means he loves it with all of his heart.
2. An I Spy book for August.
3. A leopard print with pink trim jacket for Maggie. It is so soft.
4. A butterfly scarf for me that I'll probably never wear but it'll look nice hanging in a window or something.

That was that. Then, because it was almost three o'clock, we went and got food. Cuban food. It was delicious. Here's August, eating some black beans and rice.

And then we all said good-bye and Jessie took her boys home and I went to the Gee Dee grocery store AGAIN. I wish I knew why it seems that I need to go to the store every freaking day lately. This is not something I truly want to do. Plus, I have so much stuff in my cabinets that need eating up that I shouldn't be going at all. We should be eating beans and ketchup and pasta and rice and quinoa and pickles. 
That's a balanced diet, right?

Here's what Mr. Moon got done today.

He's down to the studs. 
I'm amazed and impressed and truly proud and I'd like to say that on "Fixer Upper" when Joanna leaves whatever house they're working on and Chip stays behind with a sledgehammer and some power tools, saying, "I'm psyched! I love demo day!" and in the next scene you see the house with walls down, beams replaced, and entire kitchens stripped down to the walls, it's just a tad misleading. Chip Gaines must have a crew of fifty. Whom you never see. 
Which is fine. It's TV but that is not how it goes in reality. Unless Chip Gaines is actually Super Man beneath that goofy dad exterior.

Speaking of goofy-

Excuse me but that is, at this moment, the cutest child on earth. 
Sorry but that's the way it is. He talked to me today. He had things to say and I listened. It was awesome. 

That's it. Gonna get bitter cold tonight for those of us who live in the balmier climes. 
Twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit. 
Oh my god. I just spelled Fahrenheit on the first go. I'm gobsmacked. 


Love...Ms. Moon

An Apology

I would like to apologize for the comment I made about the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon not being that well written.
Or some bullshit.
Listen- I'm well into the third book and I feel as if I am living in two worlds right now. This one right here in Lloyd, and the one created in the mind of Ms. Gabaldon who is an amazing storyteller and a fine writer and I'm a jerk for implying she's not.
Also, the back-beatings have almost disappeared.

We read for many reasons. To gain knowledge, to be inspired, to enter worlds and minds we otherwise would have no access to.
And to be entertained and delighted and enlightened and, and, and...

So. Just wanted to say that I was wrong and that I'm glad I found these books (thank you, Lily) and there ain't a thing wrong with the writing of them. Right now we are sailing together across the sea to find a kidnapped nephew, and Jamie's seasickness has been cured by a Chinaman who has knowledge of acupuncture.
It is a glorious ride and compared to the news of the world, an utter escape into a different time, a different reality.

I'm grateful for it.

There was something else I was going to say but I've forgotten what it was.
Maybe by tonight I'll have remembered.
Or maybe not.
I'm also listening to a Jane Fonda book in my car and although I went into that with great reservation (she's so earnest), I am gleaning a few things there. One thing she says about aging is that yes, she forgets things but she has more insight.
I would like to believe that is true.

It's cold here! And getting colder!

Bundle up.

Love...Ms. Moon

Tuesday, January 16, 2018


I feel disheartened today and discouraged too.
It's nothing but a bit of housewife blues. I spent the whole day doing bits of this and bits of that around the house, none of it, as I always say, which anyone will ever notice and all of which will need doing again before I know it.

I cleaned the little altar vanity in my hallway. The new one across the way from it shamed me into it with its gleaming, almost empty surfaces. I took everything off the vanity and dusted the seashells and turtle shells, I carefully wiped down the Virgin of Guadalupe and kissed her rosy lips. I even washed all of the Cozumel sea glass that Mr. Moon and I collected one year in the surf across the street from our hotel and the vase that I keep it all in.

And then I picked and vased all of the camellias I could because the blooms are going to freeze tomorrow night. 

My 2018 calendar finally arrived in the post office today and I took down the old one which was a freebie from the Florida Seafood Council (need a recipe for fried alligator bites?) and transferred all the birthdays and anniversaries onto the new one and hung it up. 
Yo, Frida! 

I did laundry because I always do laundry. I swept but I need to sweep again. 

I took the trash and recycle.

I ironed a few of Mr. Moon's shirts, getting halfway through one before discovering there was grease on the back of it. Well. He IS the Car Guy. 

This is life. I remember I had a neighbor once who refused to pick the trash up in front of her house because people would just throw more. 
Uh. Yeah. 
That's like saying that you refuse to make breakfast because by lunch, you'll just want to eat again. 
I mean, of course, but let's be reasonable. 
Still, I understand her feelings. How many times a day does one need to sweep the kitchen? 
As many times as people walk through it. 

And that's where my feelings of discouragement and being disheartened come from. I do not feel as if I am being productive in the least, but merely reactive. 
Or something. 

Product placement time. 
Wait! Aren't I supposed to get paid for that sort of thing? 
Oh well. 
So, a few weeks ago I got online, as one does, and ordered two things I've been wanting for quite awhile. One, the ugliest pair of Crocs ever invented and which, when you wear them, you are literally saying, "I am old, I am ugly, I do not care. I have given up."
The other was a jar of face cream. A long time ago I got a tiny travel size container of this face cream before I went to Cozumel and somehow, that stuff has lasted forever. I've taken it on every trip I've made since then and there is still face cream in it. After I finished the last miracle wrinkle reducer I'd bought which is neither miraculous nor a wrinkle reducer, I thought, Fuck it, I want that same face cream I bought to take to Cozumel because nothing in this world short of plastic surgery is going to de-age me so why not just go with the one that smells good?

There you see the big jar and the little jar. The big jar is REALLY BIG! As I said when I bought parmesan cheese at the Costco, I need to put that shit in my will. 
But I don't care how long it takes me to use up. I really do love the way it smells, sort of like a cross between old lady powder and babies and it moisturizes as well as anything and hey! Ponds has been around since the dark ages and they should know what they're doing by now. Am I right?
And by the way- these ugly Crocs have changed my life because they are like warm, comfy slippers that I can go outside in and get chicken shit and dirt and other sort of stuff on without worry. 
Now. If Ponds or Croc wants to give me some money, I'll take it. 
I have a feeling they aren't going to, however, but it doesn't really matter. These are products I like. 

Here's something else I like. 

Lily sent me that today and said, "Why does that look natural?"
Oh, Gibson. You are a precious and funny and darling old soul and I wish I was going to be around when you're old in this lifetime because I have a feeling you're going to be amazing. 

And I like this, too.

That man! He not only got the toilet out since he came home from work, he also capped off the water pipes under that bathroom which involved going under the house (which is really scary) and fluxing something? and soldering and other things which I do not understand. Hell, I couldn't even turn the water off at the meter if I had to. 
He sure does love a project and I sure do love him. 

Well, reading all of this I'm not exactly sure why I feel so disheartened and discouraged. I guess it's mainly the fact that none of the work I do leads to anything at all like a new bathroom. I just clean bathrooms. 

Here's my sweet little Dottie and Violet. They both laid me eggs today. 

And here I go to make some sort of soup. I have no idea how it's going to turn out but it'll be warm. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, January 15, 2018

The Babies

I got a text from Jessie this morning asking if I wanted to go to Levon's two-month check-up with her today and of course I did. As much as I hate going to the doctor I love going to the well-baby checks because I love to hear the nurses and doctor praise the child's growth and overall health and well being as much as the mama does. Plus, when the doctor says, "Looks like you're doing a great job!" I can say, "Yes! She is!"
August went with us and I can't believe this but I did not get one picture of that boy. I got some of his brother (and everyone of them is blurry) but none of August. I kept trying but he kept disappearing as soon as I held the phone up to snap one.
I kept him mostly entertained while Levon was fussed over and examined and that was fine with August. Levon has gained four pounds and four ounces in the two months of his life. He is so very responsive and when you talk to him he grins and talks back and he chuckles in that baby way which is indescribable and one of the loveliest sounds on earth.

His mama is his world and he is certainly a huge part of hers. She sent me a little video the other day of Levon laughing at the breast and I'd love to share it but modesty must be preserved. It is the sweetest thing. 
He has rolled over three times now, once on the bed. 

As I have mentioned before, the doctor who sees my grandchildren is the very definition of laid-back and he's the one who will make a house-call after a homebirth to do the initial doctor check. When he'd finished his exam and asked Jessie his questions and asked her if she had any concerns, he said, "Well. Shall we talk about immunizations?"
And then they discussed them and which ones Levon could be most safely given and which ones Jessie wants to delay. He is fine with all of this and assured her that today's shots had no live-virus and no mercury in them. August and I stepped out of the room when Levon got the actual jabs but I could hear him cry out in surprise and in pain although his wails only lasted for a second and then Jessie nursed him for awhile and because he was already tired, he fell asleep in his car seat and off we went, to go to lunch. Of course. 

While we were at lunch, I said something to Jessie and called her "Jess" and August said, "Jessie!" Jessie said, "Yes, that's Mama's name. We've been talking about that."
And then the boy said, "Vergil!" 
And we agreed that yes, Vergil was his daddy's name. 
"Do you know what Mer's name is, August?" I asked.
He got a thoughtful puzzled look on his face and then he said, "Pretty?" 
Oh my god. 
I could have died right there in the Bamboo House, falling face-first into my noodles and been as happy as I could be. 
How I love children. 

Moving on, here we have a picture of what Mr. Moon got done last night in his bathroom.

And I took this one of him this afternoon.

It does come in handy to be tall. He's getting it done and he's tired tonight but happy. 

Speaking of happy, the chickens have been so peaceful today and I have to say that the yard just has a completely different feeling to it. Peace, yes, and a far more casual and slowed down vibe. No constant rooster crowing as one rooster tries to sound bigger and tougher than the other. No screams of panic as the hens scatter, running from one sex-crazed bird or another. No constant flapping of wings in display or hens flying up to a fence to try and escape a male. 
Lucy is still with us and I am hoping for the best. 

I got two lovely eggs today and I am thinking that as things calm down even more, the hens will be more generous. 

Here's Darla, comfy in her sleeping nest. 

Peace to all and I am holding Dr. King closely in my heart today, remembering the horror and sadness I felt when he died, the gratefulness I have that he lived in my lifetime. 
He was and always will be a personal hero of  mine and example of how we should never, ever be afraid to speak the truth, to do everything within our power to further the causes of equality and civil rights, to never give up on the dreams which represent the very best of all human desire for all of our children to know freedom from fear, and the love of fellow humans which should be given abundantly and freely to all of the babies. 
ALL of the babies. 
Dr. King had a dream and I wish he could know that despite everything, there are so many of us who try every day to keep it alive. To further it along. It is a damn slow process which is frustrating and these days it seems as if the process has not only stalled, but gone back in time. I have faith, though, that it will continue, no matter what, if for no other reason than this- it has to. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, January 14, 2018

This Is Reality. Or At Least Mine

There is a man who lives about half a mile down the road who always has interesting things going on in his yard. For a long while, it was a sign saying, "No Man Lord!" A cross and various tableaus made of various things ranging from wood to tires to rocks appear and disappear with no discernible pattern and often no clear message. He sells things in his yard that people give him or that he scavenges and Mr. Moon has given him a few things to sell and also bought a pretty wrought iron plant stand from him for me. When he bought it, he asked the man how much he wanted for it.
"Eighteen dollars," he said.
"I think it's worth more than that," said Mr. Moon.
"Nope. That's what I owe the power company and that's all I want."
When you drive by his house and he's in the yard (a regular occurrence) he throws his arms up in the air, whether in blessing or greeting or god praise, I do not know. But when I meet him on the sidewalk, walking, he always steps off of the sidewalk and takes his ever-present cart into the road, to give me full passage and this embarrasses me but I understand that everyone is different, everyone has his or her own reasons for doing what they do and it is not mine to know them.
I do not know if the man is fifty or eighty. He could be either. Or neither.
The only time he's ever really spoken to me was the day last summer when it was achingly, meltingly, fiercely, swelteringly hot and I saw him walking back from the convenience store and I pulled over and offered him a ride.
"No, thank-you," he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "This heat is horrible."
"No, m'am," he said. "Just you asking is a gift." And on he walked, like a prophet of old.

So today when Mr. Moon had girded his loins to deal with the roosters, he said, "I wonder if our neighbor would like them."
I figured he just might and Glen drove down to ask him and he said that oh yes, he very much would and that he would be glad to wring their necks and pluck them. Mr. Moon said that he would kill them and bring them on down and he came home and he did dispatch them both and while he did that, I picked a large bag of mustard greens for him to take as well. When he got back from taking the birds and the greens he told me that he'd forgotten to give the man the greens and so he'd driven back to give them to him and the man said, "This is just like Christmas!"
And so, that is how the story of Joe Cocker and Pearl has ended.

It makes me sad. They were beautiful birds but I could not take the daily torment and torture of my hens at the whims of their sexual needs. Every night the hens would dread going to bed because those two roosters would place themselves right at the doorway to the hen house so that they could mount each one and there was screaming and fighting as all three roosters tried to knock each other off the hens and I really think that my hens have not been laying because of the constant fear and pain and as I have said, it was not responsible chicken-tending to keep those roosters.
Not at all.
And trust me- no one around here wants or needs a live spare rooster. This is the cruel truth of it. So short of bagging them up and driving miles away and releasing them in the wild which would surely mean their death by predator, the most humane thing to do was what we did, which was to give them a quick death and then make use of their meat.
At least as I see it.

I suppose Mr. Moon could have built a separate pen to keep them closed up in all day but that would not have been a practical use of his time or materials. So.
And I am glad that our neighbor is eating well tonight.

Plus- Lucy has reappeared. She is wounded but I think she will heal. She is young.
And my hens can relax now and Old Man Mick will be the only husband and he is attentive and older and bedtime will be sweeter and more peaceful for all.
Now if only Miss Honey would reappear.

The realities of dealing with animals and even gardens is that there will be poop involved as well as unforeseen difficulties and problems and conundrums.
And responsibilities.
I am so grateful that I have a husband who is not afraid nor too inexperienced to do the sane and sensible thing when it comes time. I remember when my beloved Elvis Rooster was a baby and that same man took that little biddy, whom I was sure was going to die, and with an eyedropper, fed him vitamins and sugar which he'd crushed up and dissolved and that rooster grew up to be so handsome and so fine that when he died (of natural causes) I buried him not in the pet graveyard under the big oak tree by the railroad tracks but in the front yard where he could watch over us as he had done so faithfully when he was alive. That man, my husband, understood that completely and agreed that it was the right thing to do.

Well, that's what happened in Lloyd today. That and a little yard work and a nap and Mr. Moon is now in the process of cleaning out his old bathroom and getting it ready for, as he calls it, demo. 
I think he's been watching quite a bit of Fixer Upper. Which is fine by me.
Demo away. Do what you gotta do.
I love that man.

Let's all sleep well tonight.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, January 13, 2018

Home Girl

Do you see my new green glasses? I can't say as I've had a set of new glasses in decades. We just mostly drink from mason jars which suits me fine but I was in the Dollar Tree the other day trying to find a particular kind of dish scrubber, which I did not find and I happened upon these green glasses. I picked one up, drawn by the green, and it felt good in my hand, heavy, and I bought two and then yesterday I went back and bought eight more. Isn't it nice when we find something that will be used every day that pleases us? Especially when it only costs a dollar. And they were not made in China which also pleases me although I do not know that working conditions are any better at all in Columbia than they are in China.

Mr. Moon bought something new as well and I am very excited about it.

He found this lovely old piece of furniture on Craig's list and he went and looked at it and he bought it and today I helped him tote it in from the trailer. He set it up in the hallway but that is not going to be its home. He's about to tear apart what we call his bathroom, which is not a very functional bathroom as it stands. It's got a very old tub in it with a shower and the tub is not flat on the bottom and Mr. Moon's feet are, well, extremely large, and his balance is not as good as it could be (although I swear it's getting better) and he's been showering in the little bathroom off of the kitchen for a long time now and as he says, he would very much like to be able to shower in a space big enough that he can bend over and wash his toes. The shower in that bathroom is tiny and so he's going to rip the old tub out of his bathroom and build a walk-in shower with tile and he's going to tile the floor which now has some vintage linoleum in it, and he's going to use that vanity to set a sink in with a piece of glass or marble on the top. 
Something new for this old house! Hurray! I can't tell you how much this pleases me. I do love the piece and of course the first thing I did was to go out and pick camellias and set some in a vase on top of it. 

I'm not sure what motivated him to take this step, but whatever it was, I'm glad he did. 

It was an at-home day for me today. I watered the porch plants which actually survived the recent string of cold days and colder nights quite well and then bundled them up again in sheets and blankets and old tablecloths as we are having another bout of winter. I also picked up a few fallen branches and trimmed back some dead flower stalks and that was enough of being outside in the cold for me. 
I watered the inside plants and look at this beauty of a bromeliad blossom that I found. 

My jungle plant! 

And then Mr. Moon took Owen to a basketball game and I settled down in front of the TV and watched several episodes of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee and then some Call The Midwife. And worked on August's overalls. 

I have embroidered the hell out of those Oshkoshes and I added a dinosaur to make sure that everyone can tell that August is a boy. Haha. I'm feather-stitching ferns beside and over the dinosaur but you can't even see them. Doesn't matter. It makes me happy. 
Funny to think that August will not care a whit or a bit about whether or not his overalls are hippiefied. He could not care less about what he wears, I think, which is completely as it should be for a child his age. But when I see him wearing them, I will smile and think about how much pleasure I got from doing it and how lovingly I thought about him as I stitched. And they can be passed down to Levon as well. 

In very sad news, Miss Lucy did not come in to roost tonight and I haven't seen her all day long. Two nights ago I noticed when I put them to bed that she had open wounds on the tops of her wings where the actual muscle showed through where the roosters had pinned her with their talons when they repeatedly mounted her. It enraged me and I should have brought her in and tended those wounds but I did not and I should have removed those roosters permanently before it happened but again, I did not, but it's going to happen this weekend. That's two of my hens the roosters have killed and I won't stand for it anymore. We'll let Mick live because he's older and less hormone driven than the two younger ones and is good protection for the ladies. 
But enough is enough. 
And three roosters is far more than enough. 

Love...Ms. Moon