A Very Gentle Sunday

As Dorothy Anne has become more comfortable here, I have introduced her to Zippy, my dear and darling vintage chimp. Did any of you have a Zippy? I had one as a child and he got lost somewhere and I do believe the first thing I ever did on eBay was to search for his brother. And eventually, I found him. There were many variations of Zippy but I wanted and needed to find the exact same one I'd had and eventually, I did. I bought him and have loved him ever since. I let the children play with him gently and in my presence but they do not understand my deep emotional connection with him. He generally lives on the mantlepiece in my bedroom, always keeping watch. I let him tend to a little monkey-sock doll that Lily made me as a child that I also adore and cherish. So yesterday, when I unwrapped Dorothy Anne from her swaddling blanket in which she sleeps every night (I am not kidding you) and kissed her good morning and had a few words with her, I put her on the bed after I'd made it and brought Zippy down to sit with her. 
I think they enjoy each other's company. And don't you think that Dorothy Anne is looking much more content and happy these days? 
I do. 
Yesterday while we were eating our picnic at the beach, August asked me why I bought a doll. I thought about it for a few seconds and said, "Well, I guess because I don't have any more babies to take care of." 
"You have Mommy!" he said. "And us."
Oh, that sweet wise boy. 
But as I told him, neither Mommy nor he nor Levon are babies anymore. I will never stop taking care of him and his brother and his mama but I do love babies. 

I laugh at myself every night when I wrap Dorothy Anne up in her flannel blanket and kiss her good-night and I laugh at myself every morning when I unswaddle her, kiss her good morning and carefully place her on the pillows sitting up so that her eyes will be open to the daylight. Yes, I am being so silly and no, I am not obsessed with her nor do I think she is a real baby but she has triggered something in my heart, perhaps my childhood heart, that so needs something so obviously in need of tender love. 
And I am most grateful that my husband does not laugh at me but goes along with my strange little quirk in this matter. Today I told him that the little sock monkey was the love child of Dorothy Anne and Zippy and he laughed with me. 

Mr. Moon and I are in a very sweet place right now. A long time love takes on a life of its own, doesn't it? I've always said that sometimes the tide is in and sometimes the tide is out and I think that's true although I've never once entertained the thought of voluntarily separating from this man, even during some of the very low-tide moments. And of course we've had them. Not so many, but a few. However, from the very beginning, I knew that his love for me and his acceptance and welcoming of my love for him was something precious. 
Is precious. More so all the time, I think. Something to handle tenderly and respectfully and with plenty of kisses. 
And lately I've just felt more and more in love with him in all ways and I know how lucky that makes me. We are loving, we make each other laugh, we support each other whether it's me and Dorothy Anne or my blog, or him and his Camaro or his motorcycle or his hunting trips or his fishing...

You understand. 

We understand. Another thing I realized a long time ago and I have said it before, is that although we may not understand all of each other's interests and passions, we understand that those interests and passions are of great importance to us and that is all that matters, I think. 
And maybe it all boils down to this- we both want the other to be happy. 

Well, as usual, that was not what I thought I'd be writing about when I sat down here this evening. My writing process is a mystery to me but it works. For me. 

Do you want to see something pretty? 

That's what the inside of the empty shell of one our green eggs looks like. I cracked the egg into a bowl this morning to cook for our breakfast and the intensity of the color made me stop and really look and take it in. Is there anything more perfect than an egg? A beautiful vessel of life. 

It just poured rain again, but not for too long. It started as I sat down to write and it has almost ended now. 

It is hard to get a good picture of rain, just as it is hard to define what love is, what a marriage is, what a heart needs and wants. Doesn't mean we can't try, though.

At least that's what I think. At least, that's what I've learned. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Another Spider Photo, Life In Florida

 Last night before we had supper, it began to pour rain. The sky let loose with so much water that it almost appeared as if the air was turning white with it. 

The rain pounded the tin roof over us and the eaves gushed forth the overflow. It was tremendous! We sat in our own silence and watched and listened. It was a moment to pay attention. Thunder rumbled and cracked and the world shook with the power of it all. 

Sister Spider was soaked. 

The whole experience took us over in a way and we were infused with the energy of it all, inflamed, too, with a sort of wildness in our guts. A primal feeling. I think it may have temporarily, at least, changed my very molecules with the power of the rainfall and the electric charge of the air. 

This morning we slowly made our way to a departure for the beach. I robbed the stash of Publix fried chicken to take for our lunch, sliced melon and bagged cherries. We ran into another huge downpour on our way and I worried that we'd be rained out. 

But by the time we got to the state park, the skies were blue above us, although a little threatening in the distance. And it was so hot. We ate our lunches in a little picnic place with a shelter and benches, everyone sharing their bounty. Rachel is the best when it comes to bringing treats for everyone. From humus to pimento cheese to yogurt and chocolate-covered raisins, it was all delicious.

And then we hauled our stuff down to the beach over the burning sand. The water was at low tide and I am not sure any of us could have walked far enough to reach water higher than our waists. Bald Point, the name of the place where we were, is at the place where two bays join and it really wasn't nearly as fine as the sand and water off St. George Island or Dog Island, either, at least on the Gulf side of both of them. But there were restrooms and it was closer and we had the place almost to ourselves. The water was warm as a bath, the sand in the water a sort of gray color. But we all just gathered in it and the kids kicked around and we floated and sat and knelt in the water and talked and laughed. 

There was a  little girl there, whose parents were sitting up on the beach, who was as friendly and fearless as a puppy. She was five years old, and the cutest thing you've ever seen. Deep brown eyes, dimples, a missing tooth, and her name was Charley. She fell into our group so gracefully that for a little while, she seemed to be one of us. She told us jokes, she immediately latched on to August and Maggie and they played together as easily as, well- puppies. At one point she came up to me, kneeling the water, stood right in front of me and said, "Hug," and so I hugged her. I mean- what else was there to do? I suppose I look quite safe to small children. 

After we'd all soaked to deep levels of brininess, we got out and sat in our chairs and passed around more chips and Charley had to go home and the boys buried each other in the sand. 

The little guys were so thrilled. 

Mr. Moon and I packed up and came on home soon after. There was thunder off in the distance and I think everyone was about ready to get on the road. The water at the beach may not have been ideal but it was a beautiful place, nonetheless. 

Florida truly is a wonderous place if you know where to look. Last night, as Glen and I sat on the porch in awe, watching the storm, we talked about how all of the people who have lived in this house probably did the same in the summers. Sat and watched from the porch as the Florida rains came down, right where we were sitting, no doubt looking at the same live oaks. 

I feel a deep and humble connection with all of those people, grateful for the break from work, grateful for the water on gardens, grateful for the relief provided by the sudden break in heat the rain provides, grateful for the sturdy house which sheltered them, as it shelters us, from the storm. 

Love...Ms. Moon

There Are Spiders But Not Very Scary

When I went outside this morning to let the chickens out, the sun was streaming through the leftover dampness from the rain we got last night. The beams coming down were like heavenly spotlights directed all over my side yard. It was so beautiful that I had to pause and take pictures. 

And then I saw that same light shining on a different golden orb weaver and her web with dew drops spangling all in it like the most delicate of fine jewelry. 

There she is, spinning her silk and repairing the places in her weaving that had been disturbed. 

Okay. Here's one more. 

I have had a practically perfect day. For me. I got the sheets in the washer and took a shower and washed my hair which is as long as its ever been, I think, and got dressed and drove to town and met Jessie at a Cuban restaurant which is quite near Levon's school so that we could get lunch before she had to pick him up. A Cuban sandwich and a cup of black bean soup is pretty much my idea of a perfect meal. 
Oh hell. I just love to eat. I have so many favorite meals. But that is definitely one of them. 

We chatted about all of the important stuff and she was able to leave early enough to get the boy on time. 
I went to the library which of course would be on my agenda for an almost perfect day. I quickly found three books I think will be interesting including a memoir by Harvey Fierstein. 

I have always adored him and I feel certain that his story will be a fascinating one. 

And then off to Publix where I wanted to buy some blackberries. They were BOGO, the organic ones, and not only AS big as my thumb but BIGGER than my thumb. Also sweet as a mama's kiss. I have been wanting to make a pie and now I have. It also has a few nectarines in it. It is in the oven now. 

Oh, I hope it is good! There is something for me that is so comfortingly therapeutic about making a pie. 

After Publix I stopped by the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thrift Store. It was mostly great except that to demonstrate one of their audio devices for sale, I guess, they had a CD playing of some uber-Christian choir with what sounded like a New Zealand preacher adding his praise and adoration into the songs. 
Oh, Jesus. 
But I tell you what- if I were a singer and in a choir like that, I can only imagine that the feeling of being filled by the holy spirit must be overwhelming. 

Hell yes! 

All glassware was 50% off and so I got a very nice large glass canister, what I'd probably call a cracker jar, with a lid for $3.50 cents. I am not sure what I'm going to put in it but I think my brain already knows and will tell me soon enough. I also got a nice Melissa and Doug floor puzzle called "Mermaids' Playground" for about two bucks so that was a very fun treasure hunt. 

Thus, it could hardly have been a better day although sadly, my husband was not a part of it. He was way too busy working on that car engine transplant. And he sent me this picture from the garage:

TaDa! The transplant has been completed and now all that's left is what he is calling "buttoning it up". You know, stitching blood vessels and nerves in place, I suppose. He is so, so happy. And so, so tired. 

Martinis have been made. Clean sheets are on the bed. Tomorrow we are going to the beach with the family. 

All is very, very well. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well. At Least That's Done

 

I hate cleaning. I just truly fucking hate it. I love to cook and I don't mind cleaning up the kitchen when I'm done. Laundry does not phase me. I have that shit DOWN. Of course there's only the two of us now. It's not like when I had a child or two in diapers and two older kids and a husband and myself to do laundry for. But I try to keep up with it all and use cloth napkins and lots of dishtowels instead of paper towels when I can and one pair of Mr. Moon's jeans is about enough to fill up the washing machine so there's a fair amount. 
But when it comes to actual house cleaning, I just resent the hell out of it. Whether we're talking about scrubbing bathrooms or cleaning under beds or dusting furniture or washing windows or cleaning windowsills, or mopping, I just feel slightly berserk. Like there's a demon in me that's going to burst out of my chest or forehead, alien-like, leaving me writhing on the (dirty) floor. Listening to podcasts and audio books makes it far less tedious but I still get the demon feeling. I'm not as insane about it as I used to be. I've grown a bit more patient and tolerant of things as I've gotten older. 

Some things. Certainly not all. 

But let's face it- unless you want to live in filth, you gotta do some cleaning. And sometimes that cleaning has to involve more than a swipe and a wipe. Sometimes you have to get in there and start at one point and end at another. 

Like cleaning the refrigerator. 
This is one of my least favorite chores and why I decided to do that today is beyond me. I started out the day by taking everything out of the utensil drawer and doing an attempted reorganization. 
Guys. I have about fifty knives. I have knives that belonged to my grandfather. Knives that you can cut through bone with. Knives to open oysters with (five, in fact), and knives that I literally only use to cut back banana stems with. 

I have crab-opening tools. I have can opening tools. I have peelers and graters. I have a cheese slicer. I have corkscrews. I have bottle openers even though we have a vintage Coke cap opener screwed to a cabinet. I have a shrimp de-veiner. I have two pairs of kitchen shears. I have knife sharpeners. 

I also keep my list-making index cards in that drawer. Why? FUCK IF I KNOW! 

I have a lot of shit. A lot of which I do not use and a lot I use almost daily. 
Anyway, I started there today. When I got done with that project it still looked like a kitchen supply store had exploded in the drawer. 

Then I decided to take my own advice and dump out the old beauty berry jam. Which I did. And put the jars in the dishwasher. I cleaned some shelves that they'd been on and also dumped a few jars of mysterious pickles. 

Better safe than sorry. 

I was on such a roll by then that I decided to go ahead and clean the damn refrigerator which looked like that picture up top. And of course you can't see where sticky things had dripped down into bins and onto the bottom. So I got started with that. First the side bins where we put sauces and dressings and so forth. That is not a huge challenge. Then I moved on to the main body of the refrigerator, going from top to bottom as one does. I took out food, shelf-by-shelf, got rid of the iffy things and the regular science project things that prompt one to ask, "What WAS this?" I combined bottles of chili sauce and don't ask me why I had two open. I threw out as much as I possibly could in good conscience. And then I took out the shelves and bins and washed all of them and dried them off a bit and then let them air on towels I spread out in the kitchen and took out the giant piece of glass that the bottom shelf is covered with and carefully and gingerly cleaned that of pickle juice and jam spillage and so forth in the sink. 
All of this took hours. My counters were filled with jars of homemade pickles and preserves and sauces and salsas. I was able to combine some and at least wipe down others. I cleaned the bottom of the refrigerator and wiped down the sides. And then it was time to put all of the bins and shelves back in. 
The bottom bin on the right almost broke me. For whatever reason, I could NOT get that thing back in. I finally did but I may have broken something. At this point, I do not care. It's in. That's all that matters. I put the piece of glass back. And then I went to put the shelves in and that did truly break a piece of my soul. I finally realized I had to get the step stool to get high enough to put them in place. They are glass. They are heavy. I finally did it. 

And then back with all the food and I tried to keep things in groups like the barbecue sauces, the pickles and olives and capers, the jams and preserves, and so forth. I finally finished around 3:30 and it looked like this. 

Not a whole lot of difference, right? 
Oh well. At least I have a vague idea of what's in there and general locations. 
And you know what? I should just be so grateful to have the problem of too much food for a huge refrigerator. 
Although I must ask- are condiments food? 

Have any of you seen the new Ron Howard film on Netflix, "Thirteen Lives"? 

My god. We watched it over two nights. I have never seen a movie like it. Ever. There were parts I could not watch and yet, I could not bear not to see the ending, even though I know how the story ends because I heard an interview on NPR with some of the men who characters were based on. The movie is not for everyone, I am sure. But I can tell you this- if you watch it, you will never be quite the same. 

I cannot really say I loved it but I can say that it is a magnificent achievement in film-making. And it is the story of what miracles humans can achieve when they come together as one people to do the impossible. 

And I am glad I watched it. 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Spider And A Lot Of Other Stuff And Pictures For John Gray

 

This week's photo of Spider Woman, taken from a different angle. 

Phew! I did something today that gave me a bit of a sense of a reprieve from an anxious situation coming up. My annual meeting with the brilliant and personable Dr. Zorn was scheduled for August 23, which is next Tuesday. I have been quietly freaking out about this since July 1. I got my text reminder yesterday and it said that I had been scheduled to see his ARNP instead of him and it upset me. It's not that I don't trust ARNP's. I do. In fact I think that in many cases, you're better off seeing one of them than a physician. 
BUT, in this case, for an annual exam, I want to see my doctor. The man I've come to trust for many reasons, the one I feel most comfortable with. I NEVER go see him for any reason besides this yearly thing because honestly, I just don't get very sick. I mean, when I broke my ribs, I went and got an x-ray but that didn't involve going to his office and when I got appendicitis, it was on a Saturday and the office was closed and I went to an ER and needed immediate surgery so again, he wasn't really involved. 
Initially, I just sent the reply "confirm" to the reminder text because well, hell, let's just get it over with, right? But it nagged at me and I talked to Jessie about it and she agreed with me and said that I should call the office and reschedule when I can see him. 
And so I did. 
Honestly, they have the most wonderful, nicest lady who handles appointments. She's just so warm and understanding and she gave me an appointment with him AND IT'S NOT UNTIL THE END OF NEXT MONTH and you know- a comet could hit the earth before then, eliminating not only the need for that appointment but for every fiddly, diddly human problem on earth. 
I try to be optimistic about these things. 

Mr. Moon and I went to Monticello today to early vote. It was a little like a date. We held hands on the way in. That's a date, right? 

I took another hideous walk this morning. I really should get out earlier than I do but I'm not sure it would make that much difference. The temperature would be a few degrees lower but the fucking humidity would be the same and it would still be horrible. But it does fulfill my need to suffer daily as I have so often said, and my soul always feels a little lighter after I'm done. These are not long walks, y'all. Two, two and a half miles at a decent pace. I walk as fast as I can to get it over with. 

All right. Let's talk about chickens. As of this morning, we had six hens, Liberace, and one young one. I think the young one is a hen. We still have Dottie and we still have tiny Violet. She was on the nest again today. We have the grey chicken Gracie and a few others. Last night we got another teen-aged possum in the trap. There is a place in the trap where you can put a live chicken as bait and the fox will not be able to get it once it, too, is in the trap. We may end up having to do that but I really do not want to. As you can imagine, it would be horribly traumatic for the chicken, not only to be in a trap with a fox, but also being caught. But we have certainly been enjoying the motion-sensor camera recordings we're getting. I knew there was a lot of wildlife around here, I just did not realize how much. I do not know what we're going to do. One would think that keeping the chickens shut up at night would be enough but the fox seems to also hunt during the day. 
Needs must, I suppose. 

And so it goes. I took the trash, I watered the porch plants. I picked and shelled peas and they are cooking now. 

I commented last week on a post of John Gray's that his staircase in Wales looks a great deal like my staircase in Lloyd, Florida. He asked for a picture of mine and so here we are. 

As I said in my comment to him, they are not twins but very close cousins which is rather odd as we live so far apart. I am sure that there has been fanciness added to my staircase after it was originally built. Although my house is over 160 years old, his is much older, I am sure. 

Still, it is nice to think that we bloggers can share so very much whether experiences or hopes or dreams or staircases. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Death In The Neighborhood

Well, shit. 

I saw yesterday that one of my neighbors had a tree crew over at her place and I assumed they were cutting limbs again. That oak, that majestic, ancient live oak, has been bad recently about dropping limbs on the power line which cuts out everyone's service and also, dropping limbs on the road. I don't know if any cars have actually been hit but the possibility is not to be ignored. When I took my walk this morning, a few workers were back and everything had been cleaned up and the tree looked like that. 
The former tree, I suppose I should say. 
I asked one of the guys if they were going to take out the trunk, too, but he said that they didn't have anything adequate to do that sort of cutting and removal. That's how immense that tree is. 
I also asked him if the tree had been dying. He hemmed and hawed a little and said that it was becoming a danger due to its age and told me what I already knew about the limbs. 
And then I said what I said at the beginning of this post. 
"Well, shit."

I have not talked to my neighbor who lives there about the removal and I seriously doubt she took the decision to have the tree removed lightly. For one thing- a job like that costs more than you can imagine. Not only that, she grew up in Lloyd. Part of her childhood was spent in the house I live in. Her mother and father were also raised here. I have no doubt that she loves the trees and honors them as much as anyone could. I feel certain that her heart hurts, as does mine. 

Sigh. 

In more cheerful news, the beauty berry is ripening. 

I am so glad that I made all that beauty berry jelly a few years ago because now I no longer have to look at these gorgeous fuchsia berries and wonder what a jam of them would taste like. I knew it was possible to make it- I'd read articles. So I made a bunch of it two or three years ago? And the color is amazing. And it's sweet because of all the sugar you have to use in it and the flavor that the berries give it is...well, subtle, to say the least. It's pretty on a biscuit but not very interesting. I keep thinking that a real chef could create some sort of roasted venison dish with it and port and wild onions or something but I haven't attempted that. Not sure I'd know where to start. 
So now I know what beauty berry jam tastes like and I feel no urge to make it again. In fact, I have at least half a dozen jars of it that I just need to dump. They're taking up space and not getting any better with age. 
Bottom line- I can now enjoy the beauty berries for their shiny color alone and let the birds eat all they want. 

We are eating from the earth, the sea, and the garden tonight. I am making a gumbo that has in it, among all the other gumbo things, venison sausage, left-over snapper and mullet, and okra from the garden. I went out to pick okra after a downpour we had this afternoon and took a few pictures. 

I like this one. It shows the closed blossom with raindrops still on it, a mature pod, and one of the darling green baby penis pods. 
Sort of. You can see what I mean. 

It's a rather phallic vegetable, all in all. Or is that just me? I do love the contrast of the feminine blossom with the green spear of the pod that grows so very quickly from nubbin to mature and sturdy vegetable. 

 The best thing that happened today is that I got to talk to my oldest still-friend in the world. My best friend from about the sixth grade. Lord, we went through a lot together and it is such a joy and a comfort to still have each other to talk to about the things that affect us now. It is her birthday and so I called her and we spoke of grown children and grandchildren, husbands, baked goods, and high school reunions. It is our fiftieth this year and neither of us is going but we reminisced and talked about the very few people we would be interested in seeing. I feel so grateful to have her in my life after all of this time. She is someone who knows me to the bone and back. And on top of all of that, she is a marvelous person. I love her dearly. 

As you can tell, life is moving on as usual here in Lloyd in August. I am tired this evening. My walk took it out of me. The fox continues to pick off our chickens. The bread is out of the oven and looks incredibly weird but it will be good with the gumbo. 

Here's a picture of Maurice I took in bed last night. 

She finally got up the courage to get there before Jack, but left before we fell asleep and he came in and replaced her. 

She wants love just as we all do. She is so scared of asking for it and even more terrified of accepting it when it is offered. 

I understand. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sweet Twisted Sisters And Their Bad Mama

A few days ago Jessie and Lily and I decided to get a pedicure this morning. We asked May if she could come because she does not work on Mondays but she needed a day to herself after a long hard week of work and boy, do I understand that! So it was just the three of us and the girls wanted to get together fairly early, ten o'clock, which for me means I have to leave the house at 9:30 and that's about the time I'm really waking up these days. I mean, I get up earlier, but I just mess around for a long time, drinking coffee, reading blogs online, reading the news online, doing a crossword puzzle- online. 
But actually, it turned out that it was no big deal at all and I was the first one to get to the nail salon. From Lloyd to the middle of Tallahassee only takes me about twenty minutes if I use the interstate. I usually go the back way down Buck Lake Road but I decided to get on the Big Girl road today and it wasn't busy. No problem at all. 

We had such a good time getting our pedicures. We laughed so much. We even made one of the pedicure-givers guffaw a few times. I probably shouldn't tell you this but we can get quite ribald when we're together. To put it politely. I've been thinking lately about how my role has changed so much when it comes to being with my kids. For so many years I was the MOM, the one who always had the last word (well, sometimes, mostly) and was the absolute authority on everything. I was a grown-up. I knew shit. I never pretended that I knew everything but I knew how to drive and write checks and all that adult stuff. And that was a very specific role. Now, I am not in charge of anyone's behavior, my kids know far more than I do about a lot of stuff, and I don't have to pretend that I don't know anything about profanity or sex. 
It's great! 
There were quite a few "that's what she saids" today. We are easily amused. 

After our pedicures we went to a local nursery. I was looking for a few very late tomatoes to try and see if we could get in another crop before it freezes and also, two plants to put in the beautiful pots that Mr. Moon gave me for Mother's Day. 
There were no tomatoes which was not really a surprise, but Lily found a few plants she wanted to take home and Jessie found a cactus that is called something that has the word mammary in it, that had the prettiest little blooms and I got a bird of paradise that has two plants in one pot to put in my beautiful green planters. 

And then of course, off to lunch! It took us at least ten minutes, sweating in the parking lot of the nursery to figure out where to go. It was ridiculous. We ended up at a sports bar place, believe it or not, that Lily had been to and liked. I saw an ahi tuna salad on the online menu and that looked good to me. And it turned out to be pretty good although the girls both ordered Brussels sprouts which I cannot stand. That is a food that no matter how it's cooked, tastes wretched to me. As soon as the kitchen put those little green hockey pucks on the stove, we could smell them. 
"Y'all's Brussels sprouts are stinking up the whole restaurant!" I told them. They didn't care. I tried a bite of one of Lily's because once more I was assured that the way these were cooked made them delicious. 
No. It did not. They were still Brussels sprouts. And what a bizarre name. Do they come from Brussels? I suppose they must. But to my mind, that is one more "s" than is necessary. 
My tuna salad was delicious but not terribly healthy. I enjoyed it though. 
Mostly I enjoyed being with my funny wicked girls and I wish May had been there because she is the wickedest of all of us. 

I went to Publix and the lady at check-out asked me what I had planned for the rest of the afternoon. I stood there for about twenty seconds wondering if she really wanted to hear about me carrying the groceries in and putting them away, etc. I finally said, "Well, obviously I have no idea." 

Last night's trapping was another possum and believe it or not, Maurice got herself in there too. That was before the possum. They did not share the cage. She hasn't been acting any weirder than usual so I guess she wasn't too traumatized. 

I have been trying to do a little research on Dorothy Anne to at least find out her age. She does have a marking on her neck but Google image search is not showing up with anything. Well, a few death masks if you must know, which is a teeny tiny bit weird. 

I have discovered that she is what is called a composition and cloth body doll although I cannot find that specific marking online. I'll try again later. But I do think I found a doll who looks very much like her from the 1940's made by the Ideal company. 

I know that my doll has no value on the market. She is cracked and her body cloth has a hole in it. The fabric is so thin around that hole that I am afraid to try and mend it. I think that I will just treat her with great and tender gentleness instead of trying to "fix her up." She does still have eyelashes! 

Two more pictures just because I like them. 

Koi in the nursery's greenhouse pretty little pond. 

Jack the cat. I was making the bed the other day and instead of disturbing his nap on a pillow, I just laid the pillow that goes on top of it over him. He did not even wake up. 

That's it for now.

Love...Ms. Moon