Meanwhile, Back On The Ranch

What a sweetness it was to sleep in my own black-dark room last night. Or, actually, the room we've been sleeping in, the Panther Room, and I guess eventually Mr. Moon and I are going to have to figure out how to move the bed from in there to our room or maybe not. I don't know. I sort of like going back and forth between the rooms and beds. Anyway, la-di-dah. I slept pretty well, my man on the island, the book I'm reading taking his place on the bed.
Books are really quiet.

Elvis is taking off across the backyard, five hens in tow. Wait. Now he's gone back to the hen house to collect Miss Bob. He is such a good rooster. I know. I say that all the time. At the wedding, Kerry was gently chiding me (okay, he was giving me shit) about writing about my grandsons so much. I denied the charge and pointed out that since I'd been at the wedding I had not shown ONE person so much as ONE photo of ONE grandson although I had shown someone a picture of Elvis, my rooster.
And it was the truth. Do you know how hard it is not to show people pictures of Gibson and Owen? But I was strong. It's almost like doing a hit of a drug, to show people pictures of my grandchildren. I do realize, however, that my grandchildren may be the most precious, darling people in the world to me but not necessarily to others. I'm not an idiot.
Okay, I am an idiot but not about everything.
There were children at the wedding, as I said, and I had to restrain myself from scooping them up and nuzzling their necks. That, too, would be wrong, seeing as how those children didn't know me.
Boy. I was practicing a lot of self-restraint wasn't I?
Yes. Yes I was.

It's a lovely morning here in Lloyd and it's warmish although a little overcast. As you can see from the pictures above the dogwoods are blooming and also the wisteria. I'm hungry and need to figure out that eating breakfast thing. I also need to take a walk and I'm going to go take care of the boys at their house for a few hours this afternoon. Yes. My grandsons. My darling, precious, beautiful grandsons.

This is my blog and I don't have to show any restraint here whatsoever.

Although I do. Believe me.

Okay, okay. Here's another picture of Gibson from yesterday. It's when he finally decided that Mark was okay. He's starting to get a little shy but not too shy. Just a little. He's still walking like a drunken Frankenstein but he's doing more and more of it. He'll get the hang.

Mark is so good with babies. So is Uncle Hank. Babies know who to trust.

All right. I better get to it. Whatever "it" is. The only real thing I have planned for this time that Mr. Moon is going to be gone is to clean out the refrigerator which is filthy and there are condiments in there which may go back to the Carter administration.
Not really. That was hyperbole. I think.
Still. It needs cleaning and that's no joke.

It's Monday. It's April 1 but let's try not to be fools, okay?

Love...Ms. Moon