Random, But With A Birthday Message Of Love

When I was at Marshall's yesterday, they kept calling Beyonce to her register.
Who knew?

I like Marshall's pretty much okay. They have a lot of shit. Some of it's fine. I bought a dress for $22 dollars. It was a Calvin Klein dress. I even went and tried it on in the dressing room. I like the hooks they have in the dressing room. One says, "Definitely," one says, "Maybe," and one says, "Tomorrow."
Of course, in reality, they should have one that says, "Hell Fucking No." But you know. They gotta keep it positive.

So the dress I got was black, of course. It was on the clearance rack. They had the same dress in the non-clearance rack but it was in different sorts of tie-dyed colors. I liked the design of the dress but could live without the tie-dyed thing so when I found the black one, I was like, SCORE!

Today is Mr. Moon's birthday. His birthday is June 29th and mine is July 28th. Same birth year. He got up at six because he's going up to Georgia today to look at a hunting camp with a guy he works with. I wasn't going to get up but I did. I laid there in the bed for awhile but it seemed silly so I got out of the bed and made him an egg and cheese sandwich. That made him happy and it's so easy for me to do. I'll give him his birthday booty (haha!) tonight when he gets home. He says he's going to try and get home early enough for us to go out to dinner. If he does, I'll wear my new dress. It has pockets which I like a lot. Pockets should be a part of every garment as far as I'm concerned. They're good for putting your hands in. They can come in handy for stealing silverware off the table if you do things like that, which I do not. I am not a thief. I stole a roommate's roach clip once back in about 1973 and I still feel really bad about that. I don't know what happend to it. To tell you the truth, I don't know what happened to my roommate either. She was a fascinating girl to me. She was from New York and her father was a Freudian psychiatrist and her mother was a witch. I never met them.

My visit to Mother's went just fine. She did bring up Sandusky and told me that she just had no idea such things went on. I had a hard time not screaming something inappropriate to her but I calmed down and did not. She told me that she hardly ever goes to her church any more. She just doesn't feel good enough. My mother loves her church. It's a Presbyterian church which has been her choice of denomination her entire life. She said that one of the last times she was there for some dinner, the pastor came and sat by her and asked what she thought about homosexuals getting married in the church. She said, "They can't help it. They were born that way and they should be able to get married wherever they want." He said, "A lot of people think that way," but she could tell he wasn't so sure about it. She does love the guy, despite his resistance to marrying homosexuals in his church. She always tells me how they feed the homeless at that church and they even put in showers and have towels available. That is pretty awesome. She sang in a choir from the time she was fifteen until she was eighty years old. And yet, she still doesn't believe half of what they say. Like the virgin birth. Or the resurrection. "It's not scientifically possible," she says. She was a chemistry major. She wanted to be a nurse but her father was of the opinion that nurses were barely disguised prostitutes. He had this thing about prostitutes. You couldn't get your ears pierced or paint your nails because that's what prostitutes did. She ended up teaching school and she was my teacher in the third grade and I will just say that I think she would have been a lot happier if she had been a nurse.
So would a lot of kids.

Anyway, like I said, it was a pretty good visit. We talked a lot about Owen and Gibson. Well, I did. Those boys are a safe subject. We both love them and highly approve of them.

I feel a lot less anxious today. I have no idea why since today is the actual day that I go see that nurse practitioner. I don't think I care to discuss that any more right now.

Tomorrow night we're all going over to Lily and Jason's to celebrate Mr. Moon's birthday. There will be grilling of hamburgers and veggie burgers and corn and there will be cole slaw and beans and a German Chocolate cake. The first year I was with Mr. Moon on his birthday, I made him a German Chocolate cake. We were at the beach, staying with his mother and father and sister and her husband and their kids and my kids. I was completely overwhelmed. We'd only been dating for six months but I could already see my future and it involved a lot more German Chocolate cakes for this man's birthday.
I was right.
It was only a month later that he asked me to marry him and had a ring and everything.
Oh boy.
I said yes because I knew without a doubt it was the right thing to do.
I sure am glad I did. I sure am glad he asked me. This will be the twenty-ninth birthday of his I've spent with him. He didn't always want German Chocolate cake but there have been quite a few of those. I think last year he wanted carrot, which was surprising. I didn't know he liked carrot cake that much.
So yeah, I knew that my future was going to involve him but I sure didn't foresee a gazillionth of the stuff we'd go through together. More kids, of course, and businesses and heartbreaks and rebirths of love, and deaths- so many of those, it seems (neither of his parents nor that sister are still alive) and trips to Mexico and gardens and houses and now grandkids.
Grandkids!
I mean, when you fall in love with someone when you're young, you have this vague, far-away fantasy that some day you'll be sitting on your front porch together and your grandchildren will be there but honey, you don't really believe it.
Plus, you don't factor in the aging thing too well. The deafness, the memory loss, the joint pain, the way the skin falls away from the bone as you get older. Those weird sunspots. The inability to read fine print.

And speaking personally, I didn't factor in the chickens on the porch either but I'm glad they're there.

Do you think there really is a Beyonce working at Marshall's or is that just someone's idea of a joke?

I don't know.

I don't know shit.

But I do know I am eternally happy to celebrate my husband's birthday. He has saved my life over and over again. When I was watching that video of Stephen and Ina May Gaskin, I cried a little when Stephen said something about how men should carry the gauntlet so support their ladies. Okay, maybe that's a little bit sexist but frankly, we all need someone to carry the gauntlet sometimes.

Mr. Moon has done that for me. He still does. Every day. And in my way, I carry the gauntlet for him too. Even if that just means I get up and make him an egg sandwich before he goes to Georgia to check out a hunting camp.

Happy birthday, my darling man. My Honey Man.

I love you.