Monday, February 13, 2012

Taking Care Of Our Own

I think that's a Carolina Wren. Syd? Kathleen? Whatever. It's the tiny bird that comes back to make a nest wedged in that old tarpon hanging over the door on the porch every year. The coldest damn day of the year and a couple is working on a nest. Where they born there or are they the parents?
What I don't know would fill an internet.

God, it's cold. It's nasty cold. Okay, I'm sorry, but for us southerners, it gets down into the twenties and we're pissed. As a newt.

I'm sort of pissed anyway. I don't know why. I just am. It's cold and I hate it. Jessie and Vergil are leaving today. I hate that too. I know they have to go and I'm just so grateful they came and Lord knows I don't want my kids to all come home and live with me again but something happens in my soul when they come and then go. It's not based on logic and what the hell is?

I couldn't sleep between four-something and six-something. I just laid there and did not sleep. I thought I should get up and drink coffee and just do something but it was too cold. I couldn't get out of the warm cave of the bed. That pissed me off.

I'm pissed because I didn't see Bruce Springsteen or Bonnie Raitt at the Grammy's. All I saw was the fucking Foo Fighters. I no more give a shit about the Foo Fighters than Honey Badger would. I'm sorry. They may be the greatest band in the world but I don't care. Foo Fighters. What kind of a name is that?

I'm pissed because we're talking about building our house in Apalachicola and although part of me looks forward to living there with all of my heart, part of me is just filled with dread at the idea of moving from this house, moving from Lloyd. Vergil and I were weeding in the garden yesterday and I said, "Wouldn't it be awesome if I could get paid to maintain this historical house and garden? To take care of these chickens and collards?"
Yeah. That would be sweet. To get paid to do what I love.
This is a theme in my life. I am so blessed to be able to do what I love- to live here, to work in this yard, to take care of my chickens and my grandson and my husband. To be in plays. But none of what I do is paid-work. None. Usually this is okay but for some reason, sometimes it just pisses me off.

I wonder what it is that I'm really pissed about? I honestly do not know. It's been a wonderful weekend. Yesterday was terrific. I finished the soup and made the bread. It rose with magnificent gases and gluten.

Owen and Lily came for supper. Owen ate about half a loaf of bread but he despised even looking at the soup and demanded that the bowl of it I'd put at his place be removed. He got apples and cheese instead. And bread. Lots and lots of bread.

We worked in the garden and planted the cabbages and the robins flocked in and took cold showers when we turned on the sprinkler.

There was a giant egg.

And there was kissing.

And of course the play this weekend was pretty much fun.

So why am I pissed?

I don't know. It's cold. The babies are leaving me. I missed Bruce Springsteen and Bonnie Raitt. I couldn't sleep. I am not writing books. I am not doing yoga. I am fifty-seven years old and I don't get paid for anything. I had stupid dreams that started out delightfully and ended up miserably. We'll be leaving this house one day. Yes, we'll be moving to a place on the water where there is a bookstore and restaurants and a cool-as-hell coffee shop within walking distance but I'll have to give up this house. And I can't even keep up with this house as it is but maybe that pisses me off too.

It pisses me off that I won't get to be the grandmother to all of my grandchildren that I have been to Owen.

Hell. Maybe it's all just hormones. And cold. And getting old. Er. Older.

Maybe it's none of these things. Maybe it's all of these things.

Maybe I should shut up and just do like those tiny birds and go on with what I need to do and ignore the cold and ignore the aging and ignore the fact that I don't get paid for anything and accept the fact that in so many ways, I am the richest woman alive.

Which I am. And I know it.

I can't figure out how to end this and things keep beeping in my house- the dryer and now the coffee pot and EVERYTHING ENDS and maybe that's why I'm pissed off or maybe I'm just sad. I often get those two things confused, it's a problem I have.

So I'll just say that I'm overwhelmedfilled again and let it go at that, go feed the chickens, let them out to scratch and run, finish the laundry, sweep something, wash some dishes, wait for Jessie and Vergil to get back from visiting Granny and then hug them good-bye and I'll cry then and I probably won't be pissed anymore, just sad.

I really wish I'd seen Bruce Springsteen.

Well, here's the song he did. We Take Care Of Our Own.

Yes. Well. We try. Some of us do.

I think Bruce is pissed too. And a little bit sad.

It's Monday, y'all. It's okay to be confused, I guess. We've got all week to figure it out.


  1. You are the best. Some days just need to be re-started. I do think that is a little wren. Hard to tell from the photo but they have that brown breast. I like brown breasts--just sayin'.

    Nope, I'm not pissed here today. Just going with the flow. It's all okay.

  2. Hi Mary. I hear this the pain of the grown children coming and going the way it stretches our hearts out then makes them snap back in like those awesome thick purple rubber bands that bind store bought asparagus. I like the idea of staying in bed until the pissedoff wears down. Get a cuppa fire up your kindle and snuggle back down.

    wv: ratersh : drunk radish

  3. Syd- Well, I think as long as I keep on moving forward, it'll all be okay. You know? Yes. You do.

    Madame King- Exactly- and will that rubber band snap back forever or is it like the skin on the belly that eventually gives up with the pregnancies and sags with fatigue? Yeah, that was poetic. I can't get back in bed. It's too sunny, plus I just put the sheets in the washer.
    Drunk radish. Sounds like a spicy drink. I believe I would like one. Right now.

  4. I feel those woes in my own heart. The letting go. Somedays we barely notice how our fingers are being pried from those we love. Other days we bleed from the separation.

    Bless your heart, Mrs. Moon. Get warm. Turn your love and beauty in on yourself and heat up your Monday. xxoo.

    And...I adore your new header. And congrats, belatedly, on the opening. I hope today to catch up with the posts I missed while I was away looking for my new house.

  5. O, Mary Moon...we are inhabiting the same warp..

    I am pissy and whiny and mad as hell about something...and it's like an itch I can't quite scratch. I'm thinking housework might be the only solution today. Crap.

    It does indeed look like a Carolina Wren. We have them too, they make nests in out tool shed every year. You love them because they are fierce parents.

    Ok. It's Monday.

  6. Oh, and BTW--Appalachicola is delightful. Maybe as good as Lloyd...

  7. Maybe you don't need to figure it out. I think some days we just need to be pissy. We are not Pollyanna. I would have liked to slap her and see if she could be glad about that. Stay pissy until you don't feel pissy any more.

  8. Denise- I am SO excited for you. Dang! Thanks for the kind words.

    Akannie- Maybe it's the moon phase. Who knows? Not me. And you're right about those birds being fierce parents but they're not always smart ones when it comes to building their nests in odd places.

    Birdie- Okay! I will. Feel pissy until I don't any more. Good advice!

  9. I am the same today. My son and his love have worked things out and he is going back to her. And I desperately want that room back. But yet, it was so nice to have him here - even though he was sad and stayed in his room most of the time.

    My daughter comes home to spend the night once in a while and it's good. But she will be done school soon and won't need my help with a paper so she probably will stay at home then.

    20's is cold enough - even in the north. High 20's I don't complain because that's relatively warm for cold but below freezing is still cold.

  10. If it's any consolation, I thought Bruce wasn't all that great last night. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for his antics.

    It makes me so happy that Jessie and Vergil are in love! Please give them extra hugs for me.

  11. In review of the cast photo, I'm wondering, where the hell is Fabio?! hee hee!

    Sorry your pissed and a little sad. I am too. Harley's belly just won't let up. We are not in school today and have an ustra sound scheduled for Friday morning. sigh. Poor guy.

    You know, there are grants to restore these old homes that are available. That is how they get all the money for that ridiculous store! I am not the grant writing type, but I have thought about it. Perhaps you can get money that way. I'm thinking between that and if Lilly and Jason sell their place, maybe they could move in...? Just a thought.

    Anyway, hope you are back to center soon.

  12. Every grandchild can't be the first, so you'll be loving this one for what (s)he is. The most amazing thing I've found about kids is starting with number two, they don't learn from their parent, they learn from their siblings. So, this one will learn to love you just like Owen loves you. Just my 2 bits.

  13. Jeannie- These dratted children. Why won't they let us make up our minds about what we want?

    Lulumarie- I give them enough hugs for the world. But thank-you. I love you.

    Ms. Fleur- I seriously doubt that anyone would give me $$ just to run my own house and garden, no matter how old they are because I am NOT going to do anything like let the public in.
    Thanks for the suggestion, though.
    I sure hope that Harley's tummy gets figured out soon. Poor baby.

    Joanne- You are right! Ha! Loving by proxy. I'll remember that.

  14. Jeannie- These dratted children. Why won't they let us make up our minds about what we want?

    Lulumarie- I give them enough hugs for the world. But thank-you. I love you.

    Ms. Fleur- I seriously doubt that anyone would give me $$ just to run my own house and garden, no matter how old they are because I am NOT going to do anything like let the public in.
    Thanks for the suggestion, though.
    I sure hope that Harley's tummy gets figured out soon. Poor baby.

    Joanne- You are right! Ha! Loving by proxy. I'll remember that.

  15. I miss my son. Soon he'll be gone from the state, but he'll never be gone from my heart. He hasn't lived at home for over 7 years, and you never ever get used to it. Or at least I never ever get used to it.

    The girl will be here 3 more years, and then my usefulness to the planet will be officially over. My kids HATE kids. I don't expect to be a grandmother.

    Maybe the cats won't abandon me. They seem pretty content to sleep on my feet.

    I am feeling piss poor as a Scotsman (one of my grandfather's sayings). At life, at death, at the fact that I am old and cannot take care of anything any more.

    At least my handwriting is good and my hair is pretty untangled.

    Love you and your precious family. I feel from these posts I know them.

  16. Pamela- Even when they don't live anywhere near, there is this constant reaching out of the Mama Radar, isn't there? Where is she? What's she doing? Is he okay? Etc. It never, ever ends.
    I am so glad that you feel as if you know my family. They ARE precious, these people who are wedded to me with blood and love. Thank-you for saying that.

  17. everyone just about said it all so i'll just tip in and leave you a hug.

  18. I have days too Mrs Moon that I am pissed for not making a living with my photographs. Just like you should be able to do with your writing. We do what we do for the love of it, sure, but it would be nice to now and then get paid for it too. I see that you answered your own question about what pisses you off...
    I am right now fighting off the Pissed state watching Frida Kahlo, the movie...


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