The rain has gone and left a hot, heavy stillness, the air thick with it. It's okay, it's just the way it is and I ain't complaing, just sayin'.
I was completely lazy today, didn't do one damn thing I didn't want to do. Fridays are my weekend. I do not know why but they are. Might have something to do with the old days when Mr. Moon and I went out every Friday night leaving the children to their own devices when they were old enough, with pizza and movies. It was a good ritual. They enjoyed it and so did we.
Oh my, we were wild in those days, Mr. Moon and I. The stories I could tell...
Not now. Maybe some day. If I remember them and I sure hope I do.
Two ladies are coming out this evening. You know I have two Liz's, right? Well, Liz of the West is coming over tonight and she's bringing a woman that I've known for years but not really known, known, you know, but have sort of worshipped her from afar.
I'm as nervous as a cat. Isn't that silly?
Well, so be it.
Mr. Moon is over at a neighbor's who does welding. He is "extending his pole," as he told me. Then he laughed. The pole he is extending is the one that the bear-proof deer feeder will be on. Oh, my Lord, that man!
In other news, Mr. FC Rabbath is winning shit and placing in festivals. I am SO proud of him. The film he did which we worked on the day after Christmas IN THE FUCKING SNOW just place in its third festival. Here it is if you haven't seen it.
I had so much fun doing that. Lanny and I were freezing! It was definitely the coldest day of the year and we spent the whole day outside. Kathleen had given me a huge, warm, beautiful blue shawl that she'd made for Christmas and Lanny and I took turns wrapping up in it when we weren't being shot. We'd take it off and hold it out to the other one when it was their turn to wear it. Probably saved our lives. It's hard to conceive of that now, that sort of cold, with this thick blanket of wet heat sitting on us.
Not unlike the way it's hard to believe that Mr. Moon and I were young and wild once.
Oh, how I loved dressing up and wearing my long hair down and putting on make-up and going out for drinks and dancing and supper and then maybe more dancing, maybe driving through the cool pine forests of N. Florida, S. Georgia with the top down, the stars twinkling above, the shedding of work and responsibility for those few hours as we danced or drove and howled at the moon, then turning around and coming home and waking up on Saturday morning, ready to slip back into harness, my mascara rimming my lower lids like a raccoon.
Do you realize that it's probably been over a week since I mentioned Keith Richards here?
Just thought I'd point that out.
And I got nothing more to say so I'll just shut-up. No plans for the weekend and Mr. Moon brought home shrimp so I might not even have to go to the store. The garden sure could use some attention so maybe I'll do that. Maybe I'll work on the book I've sort of been flirting around with. I kind of like it.
Oh my. We aren't wild any more but it's okay. At least we were once. The memories are toasty warm like a beautiful blue shawl on the coldest day of the year. That'll do. And whatever else comes along. I don't think we'll freeze to death for lack of memories or fire either one.
No. I do not.