A Little Of This, A Little Of That

I love my blog people. I LOVE YOU! Seriously. All those stories you gave to Lily to make her feel better? Oh, god. You people just rock. You rock and you make my world a full and rosy place.
Again- thank-you. And isn't it nice to know that we have all done crazy things and let things happen and that it's okay, we and our children have survived and we can laugh at it now and that once again, we know we're not alone in this world?

Thank-you.

So, okay, I FIGURED OUT RECEPTIONIST VON TEESE! Yes. I do honestly believe that the girl/woman is the doctor's daughter. During our little chat with him, as yet another example he was giving to my mother of how many people besides her do suffer all the time, he mentioned his own daughter, twenty-five years old, tall, and beautiful, who has fibromyalgia.
That receptionist? Tall and yes, beautiful, especially, I would imagine, in a father's eyes.
I can only imagine that she gets to work every day and he takes a look at what she's wearing and he sighs and says, "Oh honey," and he loves her so much that he doesn't tell her to go home and change.
That's what I think.
I can figure out no other explanation.
That doctor was a hoot. When he was telling Mother this story, she interrupted him to say, "I have grandchildren older than twenty-five," and he said, "Well, this is my story," and proceeded.
No wonder she hated him.

In other news, did you know that it was Jimmy Carter's grandson who got those leaked Romney tapes to national media attention? You can read an article about it all HERE. 
It's all almost enough to make you believe in karma. Romney's been badmouthing Jimmy Carter (who I regard as a demi-saint and who is one of my personal heroes) all during his campaign.
Anyway, in case you'd missed that, I just wanted to bring it to your attention because IT MAKES ME HAPPY. Hank is the one who told me about it. He knew it would MAKE ME HAPPY!

So. Guess what? I'm going back to the island. Yeah, no, not Cozumel. DOG Island. For those of you who are newish here, we own, with a partner, a little bitty old shacky place on the bay of a barrier island nearby here called Dog Island. It's a beautiful island and there's no bridge there so you have to take a boat or a plane or the ferry which runs sporadically and there are no stores and no places to buy anything at all so you have to take all of your own food and water and beer and sunscreen and lightbulbs and toilet paper and...you get the picture. Mostly also, no people. We do have electricity and a landline. No TV. No wifi.
And, if you are newish here, you might ask, "Ms. Moon, why aren't you there all the time? Sounds perfect for you, you hermit who does not like to wear a bra."
Well, gee. I've had a few, uh, traumatic experiences there. So I have a little bit of a PTSD thing going there because these were SERIOUSLY traumatic experiences and none of them the fault of the island, believe me. But dammit, it IS a beautiful place and it's a wonderful place to go with my husband. We walk and sleep and play cards and cook food and swim and he fishes and we have cocktails and watch the sunset and oh, you know. Like that.

But, like I said, no wifi so I'll only be able to post little tiny postettes from my phone but that'll be it. So my presence here and on your blogs from this afternoon until Sunday is going to be thin. Wish I was thin but that's another subject.

It's supposed to be butterfly season on the island and I'm looking forward to that and also to the osprey and bald eagles and pelicans and sunsets and the peace and the quiet. It is so very, very quiet there except for the sound of the water and the wind in the pine trees.

And that's where I'll be. When I kissed my grandboys goodbye yesterday my heart tugged so deeply. I told Owen, "I won't see you in days and days," and he said, "Okay!" and that was that.
But when I see him again, I bet he's going to say, "Mer-Mer! I have missed you SO much!"

And now I need to scoot to town and buy the things we need to take and pack 'em all up.

Pictures will follow.

Carry on. And know how much I appreciate you.

Love...Ms. Moon