Well it's another day as it always is and it's gray again and warm but supposed to rain tomorrow and then get chillier and we need the rain. We need it so badly.
I have been looking up hotels in Cozumel again. Not for any planned trip but just as a sort of sweet, comforting porn and my searches have gone from tiny, very cheap places in town like Pepita where we have actually stayed before and Hotel Mary Carmen, where we have not, but we have walked past it a thousand times and the open lobby and beautiful plants always seem so charming, to Villablanca which is two miles from town and I could just stay there all the time with the beach in front of it, the jungle behind, the gardens surrounding it. I've never stayed there either but it has always intrigued me. I could walk to town easy if I wanted to and of course I would want to but it's all a fantasy. I think of going by myself. Could I do that? I know, I know. I've discussed this before.
It's just a way to escape, you know, this online looking, this reminder that Mexico is there, that water, that sky, those people. My real fantasy would be a tiny self-contained little apartment or villa, right on the beach but smothered in jungle, far enough from anything to feel as if I were alone on the planet but really, I would want to be alone there with my husband.
Ah well, it's all nothing, just mind-dancing. Today I think I'll spend with Jessie and Lily and the boys. There is talk of the Jr. Museum which has an old Florida Cracker farmstead which, by the way, is not as old as this house where I live but there is also a Bengal Tiger in residence at the moment, although not at the farmstead. That would be wrong. There are horses and goats and pigs and cows and chickens and turkeys and boardwalks over the habitats of bears and foxes and gators and so forth. Always a good time. North Florida funk just like Lloyd only with a playground and sure, why not? Let's go there. Let's go anywhere. I just need to get out of my overalls, into the world at least a few miles, out of this silly head of mine.
And maybe soon, maybe this weekend even, Mr. Moon and I will head over to the island which is as North Florida as you can get, or at least the west coast of the northern part of it where we do indeed have a tiny villa, or, to be more exact, a shack, and it is not smothered in jungle but is set back in the pines with the bay in front of us and the egrets and the herons and the osprey and the eagles and where we would be as alone as anyone could wish, just the two of us.
Well. Time to get moving and into a reality. Jessie and Vergil want a picture taken for their wedding website and the chickens want out and I need to shake the just-done-full-moon dust and fully be here now which, if that's such an important and spiritual thing to do, why do we humans have the minds we do which can take us places both real and imagined so incredibly easily? I do not know.
As I have said so many times before, I don't know shit.