Friday Report

I had an extremely traumatic experience this morning. I've been biting my tongue in my sleep and it hurts like hell. Sometimes I wake up feeling like something very red has exploded in my mouth. A painful sort of red. A shockingly painful shocking red. 
Like that. And this morning, even though I didn't know I'd bitten my tongue, that must have been what woke me up because suddenly I had a mouthful of shockingly red blood. And a little pain. 
Having a sudden mouthful of  blood is not what one expects upon arising. I panicked for a second. I'm not going to lie to you. I could not figure out where it was coming from until I went and stuck my tongue out in the mirror and saw a tiny little place where the blood was just pouring out. I felt like a freakin' vampire. I must have bitten through a capillary or something. I held a washcloth to it and it soon ceased and I haven't seen another drop all day. 
But Jesus. What a way to start the day. I guess I need to start wearing that mouthguard again. Between that and the splint I wear for my fucked up wrist, I feel totally sexy when I go to bed. 
Who wouldn't?! 

I messed around here this morning for as long as I could get away with and then I drove to town. 

Ooh boy. 
Yep. I went to Target. 
That was a trip. First thing I saw was their weird-as-shit prairie dress collection. I've read about this and seen some of the resulting photography projects (please go here and check it out) but I did not realize the true hideousness of these garments. 

That particular dress reminded me of an Amish choir robe and it felt like a shower curtain although the tag said it was made of 100% cotton. It may have lied. 
Y'all! I would not be seen de-pooping my chicken house in that...dress? And I am a person who wears overalls with one strap held together with a ducky diaper pin. 
I cannot imagine a soul on this earth who would look good in it. Not even Uma Thurman who, before she had her face rearranged by a plastic surgeon was, in my opinion, ethereally beautiful. No. Body. 

Nope. 

I finally tore myself away from the car-wreck-like horror and realized that things had been vastly rearranged in the store. I wandered around for awhile, constantly trying to remind myself of why I was there, which was to buy bins or baskets or something for shelf-organizing. Turns out they have organizing vessels in almost every department. We all need more organization in our lives, obviously. I was staring at some cloth cubes when a darling young man approached me to ask if he could help me with anything. I told him that it had been a year since I'd been in a Target and that honestly, I mostly needed a tranquilizer. He began to dig in his fanny pack. 
Do not ask me why he was wearing a fanny pack.
Now that I think about it, I may have only assumed he was an employee. 
I said, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I have my own!" and he laughed. I laughed. We all laughed. 
I ended up buying about seven plastic bins and also, four new towels and two new washcloths. I haven't bought new towels in seventeen years and I decided it was time. 
I looked at a bunch of other stuff but did not buy any of it. I kept thinking that there was something I was going to look at but I couldn't remember what it was and I still can't so I must not have needed it very much. 

Then I went to Goodwill which was right across the street and bought two way-overpriced shelf baskets. 

By this time I was hungry as hell and called and ordered a fish sandwich at a restaurant near Costco and went and picked it up and ate it in my car which was a delightful fifteen minutes. It was gently raining and cool and the sandwich was delicious. 

On to Costco where I did not see Brenda-with-the-mermaid eyes but did see Kevin in the liquor store which is always a treat. He's one of those people who makes everyone feel a tiny bit special. We all need Kevins in our life. 

Finally I hit the Publix and got what I needed there and came home. 

Yes. I am tired. Very, very tired. 

Look what my husband has done today!

I love this color green. It's the same green as the bathroom he built. I'm so very excited to start using the shelves (which he is painting in the garage) to put my things on. Oh, it will be glorious! I think my poor kitchen will breathe a sigh of relief to be rid of some of its clutter.

It's Friday. I still haven't made up the bed but sheets are clean and dried and I'm sipping a martini. I have braved the shopping hoards in a major retail establishment. I have survived the bleeding vampire mouth. I have picked some of my last lettuces. 

Sigh.

Life will go on. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Hiding From The World/Sheltering From The Storms

I was thinking I might go to town today to do my weekly shopping and perhaps go to Target for the first time in well over a year to look for shelf organizing things. But then it started to rain and then Mr. Moon took my car to town to buy paint and I got into repotting a few plants and planting a few things and the day just went by and I stayed right here, right here in Lloyd. 

On rainy days the chickens spend a lot of time on my kitchen porch. They aren't interested in making dirt baths and lounging if it's wet out and they know that treats often come out of that door and so that's where they gather and chat and hope for manna to fall. 
I watched Fancy Pants pecking the gnats off one of the hens for awhile. I do not know whether she enjoyed it, appreciated it, or just tolerated it. 

He is a good little rooster. He's constantly trying to tid-bit for the ladies but they frequently rudely ignore him. Still, he continues to be gentlemanly about it. And Liberace is quite tolerant of him although occasionally he does take umbrage and chases the small man away from a lady he's courting. I never see him actually attack him although as I have said, sometimes the hens do. 

When I had my crazy shopping day a few weeks ago and went to Joann Fabric, I bought several yards of a nice cotton heavy gauze and I've been meaning to make a dress of it. I had forgotten that the pattern calls for bias tape and Lord knows I'm not going to make another drive to Joann's just for that so I decided to make my own. I know my mother used to sometimes make her own and I had the general gist of it which is to cut equal-width strips of fabric on the bias and stitch them together. Duh. I looked up a video to see if there were any good tips and as I do every time I look up a sewing video, I realized that I do not have all the seamstress accoutrements that would make these projects so much easier. I do not have the cutting surfaces or the necessary measuring and marking devices. I do not own rotary scissors. Mostly this is fine because I am NOT a seamstress. I am just a person who does very basic things with thread and material. But sometimes...
Well. 
Here's what I used today to make my bias tape. 

The cloth, of course, a pair of scissors, a cheap little ruler thingee, and a piece of sidewalk chalk that I whittled down to make markings. I started out using one of Mr. Moon's levels to use as a straight-edge to make lines with but that didn't really work very well. 
Actually, none of my stuff really worked very well and my bias binding is going to be pretty darn wonky. 

La-di-dah. 

I do have a tracing wheel and tracing paper but the stuff they sell these days is wax-free and doesn't work worth a shit. 

Anyway, that's as far as I got. 

I've also made a sauce for lasagna with yellow squash, zucchini, onions, mushrooms, peppers, chopped tomatoes, rainbow chard and spinach. It's been simmering for hours and I hope it's good. I grew such beautiful rainbow chard this year and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it except to put it in salads and cook it with my other greens. If any of you have great ideas in that regard, let me know. I have a loaf of sourdough in the oven that I started yesterday afternoon with plenty of oat bran and whole wheat in it. Sounds like a fine supper to me. 

I've sort of checked out of the world today. I made the mistake of looking at a news page to be greeted with a huge headline about the murder of a thirteen-year old boy named Adam Toledo in Chicago two weeks ago by a cop and am plunged into horror again. 
Things must change. They must. 

And here I sit, changing nothing, going about my silly business with material and scissors and chalk, onions and squashes, mushrooms and tomatoes. 

I don't know, y'all. I just don't know. 

Anything. I don't know anything at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Have We Overcome Yet?

Here you have a perfectly lovely photo of some roses and some chickens. It is a rather meaningless picture and I have had a rather meaningless day. 

I have done something which seems to have solved the problem of my phone constantly dropping the internet connection. Don't ask me what I did because I do not know. But I did something. I have not solved the router problem because I looked that situation up on Google and the instructions seemed insurmountably difficult to me but I'm sure if I set my mind to it, I probably could figure it out. Mr. Moon's phone also reports that his security is weak and he gets the same message about refiguring the WiFi but he says, "It's been like that forever. I don't care." 
There you go. 

I suppose the high point of my day has been ordering a new nightgown from the Vermont Country Store. I actually made a list today of things I need to purchase. I decided that I am going to be more organized in all ways. 
That's a lie. 
I decided that I might as well make at least a tiny stab at it. And what's the first thing you do when you need to organize? Make lists, right? Nothing says determination like a good list. 
Hell, I even went to the shelf in the kitchen where I keep random things that I have no idea what to do with and dug out an old notebook that I'd bought at Old Navy, believe it or not, years and years and years ago. It's such a cool notebook that I've hardly ever used it but I'm not going to live forever so why not?

It looks like this. 

Front

Back

The pages are heavy duty paper and are lined. Inside the notebook interspersed between the blank pages are beautiful photos like the covers of vintage Mexican postcards, posters, and so forth. I have used a few of them for card-making. Well, back when I did things like that. 

It turns out that I had used at least a few of the pages of the notebook. There are lists in my handwriting, a wretched poem or two. The lists gave me pause. One of the pages' list went like this.

Wait. What? Where we planning on opening a coffee shop or a bar? I have a vague memory of that. Did I do real, adult research? 
It would appear that perhaps I did. Here's another list I found.

And then it occurred to me that this list came from the days when Kathleen and I were the Foley artists for the old time radio show productions that we used to do at the Monticello Opera House. 
Wow. 
When Kathleen coerced me into doing this with her, I didn't know a Foley artist from a Foley catheter. I knew a lot more about Foley catheters, actually. But I learned and oh, we had so much fun! The productions were not real radio shows, obviously, but we used authentic old radio show scripts and the actors all dressed in costumes of the era and sat in a semi-circle of chairs until their turns at the mic came up. Kathleen and I sat on tall stools behind our table with all of our sound-effects-making props and we knit and crocheted onstage, waiting for our services to be needed as per the script. I would bring a thermos of what we made quite clear was whiskey or some brown liquor but which was, in reality, as fake as the tiny door we used to open and shut when that was called for. It was red bush tea in that thermos that we sipped throughout the performances. We called ourselves The Miller Sisters because oddly enough, "Miller" was both our maiden names. 

We broke china onstage. We shot fake ray guns. We slammed down ancient, heavy telephones, we made the sound of horse hooves with coconuts, and we had an actual avalanche that our beloved Colin made for us to use in one of the Lone Ranger scripts. We had a wheelbarrow full of gravel that Kathleen could dump into a kiddy pool in the orchestra pit. It was a show-stopper! 
Oh, god. I'm feeling so nostalgic. 
We did everything completely straight-faced and no matter what happened, we showed no reaction. And things did happen. Trust me. But it turned into a beautiful bit although once I did break my toe while kicking a trashcan across the stage. 
One must suffer for one's art. 

So I found those lists today and remembered and I did the small and insignificant things that I do around here and made my little list of things I need including new towels and shelf organizers and hung the clothes on the line and cleaned the hen house and made sourdough dough. 

I'm not going to lie to you- it's been a bit of a hard day but the fact that the Minnesota police officer who murdered Daunte Wright has been charged with second degree manslaughter has been slightly satisfying. I would be happier, of course, if the charge had been, oh, murder since that's what it was, but she's been booked, and as far as I know is in jail. 

I swear to god, I don't even have the words to begin to say how ashamed I am of my country, my race. Another mother has lost her son. Another child has lost his daddy. Our world has lost another soul because a police officer saw nothing but Black and male. 

She thought she was using her taser? 
Fuck that shit. 

The day that a white kid gets pulled over for having something hanging from their rear-view mirror and then shot in the chest is the day that the pigs flying out my butt will burn in hell. 
I had a Virgin of Guadalupe car deodorizer hanging from my rear-view mirror for years because I loved it in the ironic sense that I love that goddess and never once did I worry that a cop would pull me over for it and of course, they never did.

Duante Wright is never going to be able to report, as I have just done, a completely normal day of human life. No small chores, no memories, no feelings of any type. 
Erased. Completely and utterly. Shot and killed. Dead and gone. 
You want to talk about cancel culture? There you have it. 

I am so sorry. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Trigger Warning: If Reading About Puke Bothers You, Skip This One

This is a picture from right before the darlings left with their mama this afternoon. And in a way, it is sort of an "after" picture. 

I shall explain. 

We had a lot of fun last night. Just like the Little Red Hen in our favorite book, "The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza," I chopped and mixed and kneaded and chopped and made us a fine big pizza and a small one too which was just as lovely while everyone else was watching TV which was fine with me because I had no desire to watch whatever it was they were watching which involved giant...things. 
Don't ask me. 
I was much happier in the kitchen with my normal-sized knives and graters and pans. 

We ate the very tasty pizza and August, being August, ate what he told his mother today was "four pizzas." Four pieces would be more accurate and that is indeed what he ate. 

Then it was time for purple cows and then it was bath time. (By now y'all could write this script yourself, right?) I did the baths last night while Mr. Moon cleaned up the kitchen and for once, the boys did not get wild at bedtime. They were quite civilized, in fact. Well, for small boys, anyway. 

Then pajamas were put on and they both got to use my powder which is very special powder that I never use but it's applied with a big powder puff so that is especially fun. They get to do it themselves and is now part of the ritual. 

And then stories. We read three books, including the Little Red Hen one and Boppy was kissed goodnight and both boys were tucked in although Levon couldn't settle and then a train went by (we are about four inches from the train track) and he told me that Speed Train had been SO LOUD and it worried him and he needed to snuggle so I laid down with him on my bed and within minutes he was fast asleep and I put him in his bed, right beside ours. 

And they slept through the night, so sweetly. They woke up about seven-thirty but didn't get up until a little before eight and Boppy took them off to watch TV and I slept for awhile longer. When I got up, all was well. They'd peed and had some juice and banana and wanted their real breakfast. August really wanted pancakes and so pancakes I started and while I was hustling around in the kitchen August told me that he'd spit up before I got up which I asked Mr. Moon about. Yes, he had spit up a little but not really throwing up, you know. Just a little...spit up. 
And then I noticed that the boy was in some distress. I asked him about it. He's quite stoic, that one, but he told me his tummy hurt. 
"Do you need to poop?" I asked, as all mothers and grandmothers do. 
"No," he said. "I don't think so." But I could tell he was not feeling good and then suddenly, I saw the signs of impending pukage (yes, that is a medical, scientific word) and before we got to the bathroom, he had not spit up on the floor, but definitely thrown-up. 

Ooh boy. 

Poor little guy. Of course he felt much better for a little while as one does after a good vomit, and a sort of chaos ensued as I already had things going for the pancakes, with bacon in the oven and Mr. Moon had to go into town for work and needed his breakfast. And then the waves of distress started to roil again and we made it to the toilet, mostly, this time, and I tried to comfort August but he took it all in stride, in a very calm manner. I called his mother and told her what was going on and we agreed it could have been the pizza or it might be a bug but whichever, he needed to rest and so back into the Glen Den we went, August now clutching my big white plastic bowl and "Shaun The Sheep" was turned on and although I could tell that he still didn't feel well, he immediately plugged into the show. As did Levon. 

I made Mr. Moon's breakfast, got him out of the house, got Levon fed, August puked a few more times and so there was clean-up and the use of a cool washrag and I noticed that the last time he vomited, he managed to keep his eyes on the screen as he neatly got the mostly-by-now-bile in the bowl. 
I knew he would survive. 

And he did. 

Levon, eating his pancakes said, "You're taking care of my brudder." 
I loved that so much. 
After TV we read stories and before too long, August seemed absolutely fine. 

Later on, when Jessie came to get them and we were discussing it all, I asked August if he was ever going to eat pizza again.
"Yes," he said, "But not today."

And so that is the story of what was, except for a probable tummy bug, a very nice sleepover. We don't think it was the pizza because he didn't wake up vomiting in the night (thank you, sweet baby Jebus). We shall see if anyone else gets it, if indeed that's what it was. 

In technical matters, I have decided that the problem with my photo-sharing is that my phone keeps dropping my WiFi. 
ARGGH!
I did a very small amount of research and yes, there are remedies but they come with warnings like, "BE CAREFUL! IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY HIT THE WRONG COMMAND YOU MAY WIPE OUT ALL OF THE SETTINGS ON YOUR PHONE WHICH WILL RENDER IT USELESS UNTIL THE APOCALYPSE AT WHICH POINT IT WILL STILL BE USELESS!" 
Oh dear god. 
I'm also getting a message on my phone when I re-connect the WiFi telling me, "WPA/WPA2 (TKIP) is not considered secure.  
If this is your Wi-Fi network, configure the router to use WPA2 (AES) or WPA3 security type."

Oh right. And while I'm doing that I'll be translating Shakespeare into the Amazonian Aboriginal People's tongue and retiling the bathroom and writing best-selling erotica under an assumed name. 

Meanwhile, I do believe I'll go steam some artichokes. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Another Sleepover!

Tomorrow being Jessie and Vergil's 8th anniversary, we are hosting these two fine young men for tonight and part of tomorrow so that their parents can have some adult celebration time. We have pizza dough rising here and Boppy has clocked out of shelf building until tomorrow. He has been working all day on those shelves and soon, they will be ready to receive whatever it is I choose to put on them. 

I am going to have to go buy some organizing baskets of some sort, as I've said, for things like my massive collection of furniture polish and lightbulbs, leather cleaner, and my museum-worthy assortment of flashlights and headlamps. Also cleaning rags, ant killer, wasp killer, packing tape, strapping tape, duct tape and measuring tapes. AND, all of my boxes of aluminum foil, parchment paper, wax paper, and every assorted type of ziplock bags known to mankind. This will be amazing because when we put the dishwasher in, a cabinet had to be sacrificed, and as Mr. Moon says, when we want a baggie, we have to stand on our heads to get one from the back of the cabinet where we keep the left-over containers. 

I am going to be in high-cotton soon! 

Anyway, that's the story for today and I better go start chopping things up for pizza. I asked August if he liked spinach on his pizza. He thought it about it for quite awhile and then said, "If there is cheese underneath it, I think so."

Again- a truism one could apply to many things. Out of the mouth of babes, and so forth. His mama didn't raise no fools. 

I have to tell you that when the Weatherfords got here today, I had just woken up from a very nice little nap and August ran and jumped on the bed and hugged me up and Levon joined us and they unpacked their suitcase with the blankets and pillows I'd made them and the little sequined animals I'd gotten them for Easter. They showed me how soft and cozy their blankets and pillows were and my heart almost melted with the sweetness. 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here is the pantry project, coming along. I am so excited. Mr. Moon asked me a few days ago if I want him to paint the shelves white or just stain the wood. 
"No." I said. 
"No?" 
"No. I want you to paint them red. Or blue. Or green would be nice."

I think we are going with a dark green like his bathroom. Oh! The smell of fresh wood and new paint! It's going to be lovely. 

The sun has just come out here in Lloyd. It has been raining for days, it seems and although I do love the rain and almost never complain about dreary days, it is a sweet surprise to see the sun again. The wisteria leaves are doing a fluttery dance in the breezes, the wind chimes are tinkling. 
Do you remember wind chimes like this?

The tinkly crystalline song they made?

And they were ridiculously cheap. A few bucks at most. They are so rare now as to be unavailable. I miss them. 

For quite a long time now, Mr. Moon has been having shoulder pain. He's been to the doctor. He's done physical therapy. He's had x-rays. And it's only getting worse and worse so his doctor finally sent him to an orthopedist who, after examining him tentatively diagnosed a torn rotator cuff and ordered an MRI for confirmation. 
Mr. Moon does not have a good history with MRI's. Turns out he is extremely claustrophobic and he was not looking forward to getting another. But today was the day it was scheduled and the doctor did prescribe him two Valium to take forty-five minutes before the procedure which he did and he was fine. Or at least that's what he told me after it was over. 

We'd had an easy day and he'd done a little more carpentry work and Jessie and the boys came out and I read to those little guys and Jessie helped her daddy with the sawing of boards. I read the boys a library book which is from a series that August is currently in love with. It involves robots and bad-guy unicorns and somehow the planet Uranus. Is Uranus still a planet? I've lost track of that particular situation. Somehow there are also characters in the book who love to eat sweets including a princess, but like I said, August loves them and Levon seemed entranced too. So we read that and then we finished the Richard Scarry book and then we read Levon's choice, "Murmel, Murmel, Murmel," which is about the sweetest book ever written and which I love to read because there are so many different voices. Levon is such a funny guy. Jessie sent me this picture this morning.

The child got up this morning, put on his new clothes and boots and went outside to unstack and restack the firewood. 
For whatever reason. He's such a BOY and yet, he's so tender and sweet. 
Another picture of them I got last week was this one.

They were at the library and August asked Jessie to take this picture. "It looks like we're getting married," he told his mother. 
That boy just loves love. 

They both do. 

I remember when Lily was about to have Gibson, and Owen, who was about Levon's age, maybe a little younger, started fixating on being married and having children. His "wife" was a stuffed orangutan with some incredibly fancy name which I have forgotten. All of the other stuffed animals were their children and he loved them dearly. 
How beautiful it is to see these children go through the beginning discoveries and feelings of what it means to grow up, to love, to take part in the traditional rites and rituals, to be parents. Some of you may even remember when Owen pretended to be my father and he would take care of me. It was lovely to witness his version of how his father fathered him with such care and devotion. 
I was reminded of all of this when Maggie was here and on Saturday morning, a little while after she'd gotten up she said, "Oh! I have to wake up my darlings!" meaning, of course, her baby dolls. 

Her darlings. 

One of the most amazing parts of being a grandparent is how we have the time and the distance to be able to truly appreciate these things. Parents don't have the luxury to really stop and ponder the small and tender things their children do. They're too busy feeding them, sheltering them, trying to teach them, discipline them, ensure that they are growing up healthy and strong and sound and potty-trained. But we grandparents- we can stop, step back, and cherish. 

If we are lucky. 

And I am. 

And I do believe that in doing that we are important in the children's lives too. And when we tell their parents what we've noticed about how lovely their children are, we are giving them some much-needed acknowledgement, support, and love as well. Which parents don't get nearly enough of. 

So that's my little perspective today. And perhaps an explanation for why we grandparents are all so incredibly convinced that our grandchildren are the most amazing children in the world. That is our job. To recognize that yes, they are, and to praise the children for being so, and to praise their parents for raising them to be so. 

Yet another example of evolution. Grandparents who are not only physically but also emotionally involved in the rearing of their grandchildren contribute to their chances of growing up, which of course will hopefully result in those children passing on our genes. 

Unconscious selfish behavior. 

Mother Nature, as I have often said, is a tricky bitch. Her tools include hormones, lust, love, and the need to protect our young. 
It's always worked for me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How It Went

That's the chinaberry tree in bloom and I had not even noticed it until today when Maggie and I were out kicking bamboo. She was wearing her garden boots and by the time we were finished she had the technique down.
"Thank you for taking me on that adventure," she said. 
Now I have to tell you that in all honesty I was a bit worried about how Maggie's overnight would go. I have seen the girl pitch fits that compare to the ones her mother used to pitch when she was a little girl. 
Which is to say- not pleasant to deal with and that is putting it incredibly mildly. 
However, it turned out that Magnolia June was absolutely a little ol' buttercream for her Mer and Bop. She was interested in everything, talkative as a little magpie (haha!) and sweet as she could be. She's so funny, too. 
She wanted me to go out to the swing porch and sit in the swing with her and talk. She loves to have conversations. And so we did. I took my martini with me and it was absolutely one of the most pleasant half hours I've had in a very long time. We discussed a lot of things including who my four children are, whether or not my mother and father are still alive, what their names were, the dart board hung on the wall of the porch, her cousins, and much more. When you hit on a subject that she needs more information about she says, "Wait! Wait!" and then proceeds to either quiz me or offer her perspective on the subject. 

She wanted to draw me a picture to put up in the kitchen and so I found her markers and paper and this is what she made.

It is me and I think it is very good. It immediately got taped up in the kitchen with all of the other artwork in a place of pride.

She cuddled with her Boppy and they watched Shaun the Sheep and The Mighty Baby Beehm while I made our supper. She ate almost all of her hamburger which she enjoys with lettuce, tomato, pickle, ketchup, and mustard. "Like a sandwich," she instructed. Although she loves broccoli, she did not like my steamed broccoli because she is used to frozen at her other grandmother's and mine was fresh and thus "stinky." Oh well. When we made our martinis, we made her special drinks in a tiny cup with crushed ice and grape juice and cranberry/pineapple juice. She was utterly charmed. 
Yes. We are setting a very bad example, so what, don't you judge me. She also got her Purple Cow with raspberry sherbet and grape juice as dessert which she insisted on calling a sundae and almost shrieked with delight when her Boppy put a few M&M's in it. 

She enjoyed an extended bath in Mer's big tub with all of the ducks and octopi AND her doll which, according to her, is waterproof because it is plastic. I did not challenge her on this and simply gave the doll her own towel when it was time to get out of the bath. 
We had set up her bed, the same fold-out that August sleeps on when he is here, beside our bed and she inspected it and found it lacking in one regard- there was only one sheet to lay on. She needed two. 
And yes, the Princess and the Pea did come to mind. 
Whatever, another sheet was taken from the drawer and tucked in over the first one. 
We laid on my bed and read four books and it was after ten by then but she was not ready to settle down. She had to attend to her dolls, she had to have the fan off, the doors and lights just so. She had to be assured that Scratchy Cat would not come and get her in her sleep. At one point she had to get up in order to "play with her babies" because they would just NOT go to sleep.
"But you are their mother," I told her. "You can tell them that they have to go to sleep now."
She thought about this for a hot second and then said, "Yes. I am the boss." 
It wasn't too long after that that she fell asleep on her little bed and dang if she didn't sleep there until seven this morning when she woke up and got in bed with us. Mr. Moon immediately slipped away to his chair and we all went right back to sleep. I got up before the two of them did at 8:30 so we did very, very well. 

She told me last night when she found my shelves of homemade jam that she wanted toast with jam for breakfast. Also, eggs. So that was what we had. She wanted "real eggs" which, it turns out, are the kind with the yellow part in the middle and the white part outside.
Fried? I guess so. That's what I made. And she was very happy with them. 

She told me that I was the BEST chef but warned me not to tell her mother because her mother is a great chef and if she found out that Maggie said that I was better, she would not let Maggie come back to visit. 
As if. 

I assured her I would not tell her mother she said that. 

After breakfast we let the chickens out and she gave them some corn and we picked some mulberries and she wanted to check on the garden which I thought was absolutely wonderful. She went straight to the carrots and asked if she could pick some. I told her she could and she did. One of them was a tiny bit provocative which I did not point out to her. 

And we kicked the bamboo, as I said, and she wanted to go into the old barn to see what it was like. 

She was not impressed. I think the cobwebs put her off a bit. 

I finally started hinting that it might be time to go home soon around eleven but she had things she still wanted to do. We read some more books on the porch swing and she read one to me. "Five Little Monkeys," which she sang to me. She has a very fine voice. 

But then it was time to go home and we packed up her things. She wanted to take my old Zippy home but I would not let her. She fussed a bit about that ("I don't understand!") and I told her she could take something else so she picked out a stuffed elephant and the Fisher Price rolling phone. 

I drove her home and she was glad to see her mommy and her brothers and then her daddy came to pick up all the kids because it was a daddy night. It was good to see Jason. I hugged all of the kids and their mama too and then I drove home where I've done very little but enjoyed it all a lot. 
So it was a very good sleepover and we shall do it again soon although first Gibson and Owen have to have their nights. Maggie has told me that she wants to come with them. We will have to work this out. 

And Lily sent a picture that Jason had sent her and the whole family has been chortling ever since. Turns out that Maggie's big brothers have taught her a new trick. 

I can't help but laugh. Look at Owen's face. Lily said, "Where have I gone wrong?" and of course she hasn't. Life is just life and kids will pick up everything. May reminded us of when Jessie was a little bitty girl and learned to snap her fingers and say, "Goddammit" on the same day and thus went about snapping her fingers and saying, "Goddammit". I do not remember this but wish I did because it sounds pretty hysterical. 

So that's the Saga Of Maggie's Sleepover. She was a delightful guest. 

Love...Ms. Moon