Really?

How in the world can it be winter? It's about seventy degrees and dense gray skies and it must have rained because drop, drop, drop, heavy drops come off of the trees.

I took my fate in my hands last night and said to Mr. Moon, "I am going to sleep in the guest room because I want to SLEEP," and I did, snuggled down with a book and I read and read and read and then I turned out the light and I just slept.
I will be like a remora on him for the next ten days and it will be wonderful but I wanted one night of my own, just me, and look- we all need and deserve that sometimes and this morning I am actually not feeling anxious so much as excited. Maybe some nervous but nervous is normal and good whereas anxiety is sickening in every sense of the word. It is a dis-ease. Instead of butterflies in the stomach which nervousness brings, there is barbwire in the stomach with anxiety. I don't think I can state it any more plainly than that. Today I have a little bit of barbwire but there are a few butterflies dancing around it.

I wonder what my dreams will be like in Cozumel. Will they be informed by light and water? Will I still dream of the chickens and people coming to my house and needing food and beds? We generally go to bed pretty early in Mexico and get up early too. When the sun goes down there, it does not linger babies. It drops like a rock into lava and the fire flies up into the sky and colors it and the water too. When it comes up in the morning it comes UP, and we generally do too.

Oh my god. Mr. Moon is grinding deer meat in my kitchen right now as we speak. Are you kidding me?

I married a hunter. At one time, I was his prey. Tomorrow I am going to remind him of why that was. Today I am just the wife, the grandmother, the do-er of laundry but tomorrow?

Tomorrow? Really? It's tomorrow that we're leaving?

Lord. I gotta run.

Feed the butterflies, blunt the barbwire, fluff the velvet, paint my nails.

Sharpen my remora suckers.

Going to be a busy day.