I am singularly out of thoughts today. Now don't get me wrong- I can always write something about something. I still haven't done that bosom post yet. But I just don't feel inspired.
Mr. Moon and I did some good work in the garden although it's nowhere near entirely weeded out and dammit, you have go back and pull up new weeds where you've already weeded and so it's sort of a fruitless effort but it just feels so sanctified to get down in that dirt and get so sweaty that you soak through not only your underwear and your shirt but your overalls too. Right now I have a load of laundry going that's made up entirely of our work clothes and you better believe I'm using hot water AND detergent AND Oxy-Clean. Please don't tell me how much you hate that dead guy who used to do the Oxy-Clean commercials. We all hated him but that stuff works pretty good. Plus- he's dead.
So I planted a few more tomatoes and some more yard-long beans and a cucumber plant and two squashes. Also some collards. And we're watering the crap out of it all. It's looked like rain all afternoon and it's been grumbling in the sky but it hasn't amounted to anything and if we don't get some water on the garden we will not get a hill of beans, haha!
We worked for about two hours at which point I realized I was feeling a bit disoriented as to place so I said, "STOP! TIME TO STOP!" and Mr. Moon agreed and so we did not kill ourselves. It's good not to kill yourself with gardening. Sort of negates the entire wholesome purpose of the activity, you know?
But I guess I wanted to talk a little bit about what I spent hours happily doing yesterday which was crafty stuff.
Now I am NOT a crafter. I don't even like the word "crafter." But I had some beads that I love and wanted to rebead into bracelets and I spent hours doing that and they look like shit. I don't have the right stuff to do a good job and and so that was hours wasted and then I decided to draw a picture and maybe do some fun stuff with it, a little like Ms. Photocat, but I am not Ms. Photocat. I drew lots of pictures and then got one I sort of liked a little and so I got out my Mexican Images books I got at the Old Navy a long time ago and my Lotteria pictures and I started cutting and gluing and then I got out the glitter and oh, boy. What a fucking mess! It's still sitting there, looking like a mess but you know what? I had fun. I might even finish it, whatever the definition of "finishing" would be. Mostly likely when I run out of room on the page to glue shit onto. I can't draw and I can't even cut properly and my glittering and gluing look like you gave a four-year-old the glue and glitter and left the room.
Oh well. It's all the process, isn't it? Maybe my inner four-year-old just likes to come out and play sometimes.
Also, I think it's good for the soul to sit down and do things with your hands, to cut and glue and draw and let the hands have some fun of their own for once. We use our hands for so much and misuse them too, trying to get the tops off of things and pull out weeds that are rooted all the way down in a suburb of Beijing and stuff like that. Sometimes when I go through a period of hurting my hands one way or another I just stop and pay attention and (I know this sounds cray-ZEE!) I kiss my hands, both of them, and tell them how much I love them and appreciate them because I do. I really do.
Mr. Moon just came through and kissed my foot which is propped up on the table as I write this and I smiled and said, "That made me happy," and it did. I think we should all probably pay more attention to the body parts which are not usually viewed as sexy like bosoms or butts or even faces but hands and feet too, and also the shoulders. Oh yes, the shoulders and backs and all the places the power comes from and the doing comes from. And the forehead and the eyes and the neck and the insides of the elbows but mostly just because that feels so nice to have kissed.
And this- if I had one piece of advice for people who love a woman and live with her intimately- kiss her belly every day. At least once. Most women do not love their bellies and we all wish they were flatter and more six-packier, which is ridiculous, and many of us have created life deep within those bellies and they have stretch marks and navels we may not think are attractive but I think maybe we secretly wish that our bellies were worshipped or at least given tribute as a sort of cathedral of life. If you kiss a woman's belly, she will feel loved. I guarantee you this.
Although maybe no one else feels this way. I don't know. I don't know much to tell you the truth.
I think I come here and prove that point day after day after day.
But here's another secret- most people don't know that much either. Oh, sure, some people do know a lot and I respect them. But do they know about kissing bellies? Maybe. Maybe not.
I have to finish the laundry. I sure do know how to do laundry. And I'll probably write an entire post about laundry and the deep hidden philosophical meanings behind it someday but right now, I need to quit talking about it and just do it.
As Always...Ms. Moon