Let Us Be Tranquil In The Midst Of Our Confusions

It's so odd how days turn out, never the way you think they will, but almost as if they had their own accord. Yesterday I woke up in so much pain and aching in joint and heart and tearing up at the least little thing and then something happened, I have no idea what, and the day turned itself around and it turned out to be one of the very, very good ones, as I said, and why?

This morning I got up ready to rock and roll. By the time Lily and the boys got here a little after nine I'd made up the soup and got it simmering, made oat bran muffins with three kinds of fruit in them and had them in the oven, written my little post, read some of the paper, taken out the compost and had the kitchen cleaned up. And I was kicking ass but I never seemed to get into a flow with my grandsons although the day went quickly. We did everything and more and they were loving and funny and we ate peas off the vine in the garden and I even paid Owen four M&M's for letting me read him a book that I wanted to read him (I am not ashamed of that, not one bit and he loved the book and then he loved the M&M's) and then Boppy got home and Owen ran into his arms and Gibson hugged and hugged on him and then Owen and Boppy went off to the garden to do stuff and I got Gibson down for a nap and then Jason came to pick the boys up and they kissed us good-bye and they left and I just feel like EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART, CHAOS AND ENTROPY ARE WINNING and again...why?

No idea.

I feel like I'm running six ways behind in every detail. I have New Yorker magazines I haven't read and a Vanity Fair and an Esquire too and I'm reading one of the most beautifully written books I've ever read and I just take bites here and there of all of them and there are areas of complete and utter disorganization and just pure-T mess and stuff, just CRAP on several surfaces in the kitchen and on the back porch, and the floors need sweeping and so do the two front porches. We are sleeping in one room and it's not set up as a bedroom, not really and, in a way, that is charming. I no longer have a clock beside my bed beaming me with bright fluorescent and lurid numbers but merely keep my phone plugged in so if I do wake and want to know what time it is, I have it and I swear to you that this may be at least fifty percent of why I am sleeping better. But there's a desk in that room with a printer on it and kid books and puzzles and the wifi router and there are doll beds with odd pillows and quilts folded in them, and the cradle Mr. Moon made when I was pregnant with Lily and it is stacked with folded baby quilts and cloth diapers and disposable diapers, and a TV that we almost never, ever watch (who has time for TV with all this reading material? and besides, the remote is broken) and a chest of drawers with all of my never-hardly-ever-touched-anymore sewing stuff in it, and so all of our clothes and dressers and closets are in the other room, our "real" bedroom and I just feel scattered.

"SERENITY NOW!" I can hear Frank Costanza on Seinfeld screaming that every time he felt his blood pressure rise and haven't we all felt the urge to do the same? Just scream it and make it so?

It's time. It's time to do a major clean-up, toss-out. I say that with such conviction and then I think about  truly doing it and I wither, I wilt, I go into a metaphorical fetal position at the thought. It's all so much easier in the yard where you know that this is a weed and this is not, pull the one, leave the other, get on with your life.

Well, maybe it's the bamboo which I can't seem to stay on top of or maybe it's the full moon or maybe I really, honestly do need to get rid of some shit (a lot of shit, a WHOLE lot of shit) and maybe I need to meditate on the idea of the Sea of Tranquility on that full moon and maybe I need to think about the Caribbean gurgling and being every shade of blue and green and indigo and violet and Just Be and maybe I need to slam a beer and maybe I need to smoke a joint and maybe I need to take a run around the block and maybe I need to just settle the fuck down and realize that days, like seas (at least here on Planet Earth) have their own tides, their own waves, and it is best to rest and ride them.

Okay. Mr. Moon, while trimming some branches over my clothes line with a chain saw, just dropped a limb that fell on the lines and pulled over one of the beams which was set in cement and SERENITY NOW at least he didn't hurt himself.

I believe I will go make a pie of the dewberries which that sweet, good man picked and brought home this afternoon. Yes. Nothing as soothing as making pie crust. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's a joke. I suck at making pie crust and I shall probably be weeping in fifteen minutes to tell you the truth.

We shall go on whether floating on the ethereal plane or drowning in chaos.

Don't forget to look at the moon tonight and also, it is my darling Lis's birthday and so whatever has happened today (and none of really that bad), it is a good day because it is the anniversary of the day she was born and I am so very, very grateful she was.

Much love...Ms. Moon