Sunday, June 30, 2013

I Hate Sundays

I'm in a self-hatred mood today due to the fact that I've done nothing of service to mankind or the family. Also, I haven't suffered enough.
I know, I know. This is a bit sick but it's the way I am and I'm not likely to be changing anytime soon. Here's a picture that I grew up with:

I know. Right? It was in my grandparent's dining room and when Grandddaddy and Granny died, I claimed it for my own. It hangs in my office now. As a child it sort of fascinated me but it was never disturbing. Still, death was a presence, even as we ate our raisin toast and dug the sweet, sour fruit from the halves of grapefruit with serrated spoons. I wish I had those too.

Anyway, I do understand there is absolutely nothing wrong with taking it easy on a Sunday. In fact, some of the more popular religions demands that very thing but I'd be a hypocrite if I used that as a rationalization for being a lazy ass. I mean, I did clean out the hen house but to be quite honest, that takes approximately two minutes. People who bitch about how hard it is to keep chickens are either:
(a) Lying, or
(b) Doing a far more intense job of it than I am.

Then I was going to weed and was already in the dirt and everything but it began to rain and then it began to pour down rain and so I meandered back to the house where I did some laundry and ate lunch and that included cake and I wish that cake wasn't here. The icing for German chocolate cake includes four egg yolks, a can of sweetened condensed milk, 1 and 1/2 cups of sugar, 1 and 1/2 cups of butter, an entire 7 oz. package of sweetened coconut and a cup and a half of pecans.
And that's JUST the frosting.
Sigh. I am a weak and pitiful being.

Mr. Moon had gone to town to run some errands and supposedly, was going to pick up Owen to go with him and maybe take him to lunch. Next thing I know, I'm getting pictures like this:

And more. Owen playing games with brightly colored balls, Owen in a bouncy thing, Owen EATING ICE CREAM!

I texted him back saying, "You are trying to bribe his love. Why don't you just buy him a puppy while you're at it?"

Yes. I am a jealous grandmother, just as God is a jealous God. I admit it. But hell's bells, Martha, how can hunting for eggs compete with an afternoon like that? Well, it cannot. Dammit.

Owen is developing an intense sense of smell. His mother had the same thing. It was a burden to her and made her life difficult. The funny thing is, is that when I was pregnant with Lily, I was so sensitive to odors that I could hardly stand it. I had to take about six showers a day because I couldn't stand the way I smelled. I didn't do that with any of the other kids, only Lily. I'll never forget when she was probably about Owen's age and walked into a room where incense had been burning. She stopped and wailed, "What is that HORRIBLE ODOR?"
And so, it's somewhat amusing that Owen is developing this same trait. I've been noticing it in him myself.
One day recently I was reaching across him to click his seatbelt and he said, "Mer, you armpit smell sort of bad."
I laughed and told him I'd taken a shower the night before and put on deodorant but that it had been a long, hot day.
Then a few days later, as I was helping him buckle his britches after he peed, he said, "Uh, Mer? Armpit?"

Lord. Not only do I not take him to fun crazy places to play and then to get ice cream, I also have stinky arm pits. Jesus. The kid is going to start hating me. There's still hope for Gibson, though.

So I'm almost finished reading a book that has me vaguely interested. It's called The Blood Of Flowers and was written by Anita Amirrezvani. It is not great literature but it doesn't suck and it's slightly erotic.  It's about a girl in 16th century Persia who is good at rug-making and who has an interesting life. Did you know that back in those days, a guy could offer a girl a three-month marriage contract? And he'd pay the family and the girl would be his "wife" for three months meaning that she had to have sex with him and maybe at the end of the three months he'd renew and maybe he wouldn't.
"Man, I'd really like to fuck that chick. I think I'll marry her for three months."
And the girl still lived with her family and everything so it truly was purely about the sex and the guy could have a "real" wife already or maybe a few, depending on his wealth and status.
So yeah, I spent a lot of time today reading that while my husband was taking our grandson out to Disney World. Okay, not really Disney World but as close to Disney World as Owen knows about.

Oh well. Mr. Moon is back and I spent about an hour picking up fallen branches and pulling a few million Mexican Hydrangea. I sweat like a pig because it's approximately 99.9% humidity out there but compared to Arizona right now, I guess it's heaven. And I've traded a few more pictures around and Mr. Moon has put up a bamboo screen on the back porch and I have to admit that I'm liking the changes around here. When I lie on the bed I feel protected by the magic of stuff I love and there's something very good and which feels very safe about having the window over my bed lead out onto a porch which then leads out onto the yard where the most beautiful ancient oak towers above us all. Here's what the view from my office yard looks like.

Sunday. What can you say?

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Eh, Owen will remember this day with Bop only in abstract and as a amalgam of all his days with the two of you. I am a bit like the Bop in this scenario, swinging in to town to give the nieces and nephews presents! Taking to movies! When I would really love to just gather eggs with them at 10am on a random tuesday.

    Ah lah, as you say :) Fucking Sunday again.

  2. Sounds like a good sunday to me... minus the self loathing part.

    Have a martini. It worked last week.

  3. In some branches (I think Shia because that's what in Iran), it's still ok to take a temporary wife.

    I suggested this to the Warlord Justice who was sure that I should be his third wife. I knew a few weeks of holy matrimony to me would make him very happy to say "I divorce you" three times or take an early termination clause.

    See? I'm a problem solver.

  4. I noted how the tone of this post changed subtly from Sunday anguish to a sense of safety and even coziness once mr moon came home. I know the feeling, that sense of exhaling and feeling accompanied on the journey.

  5. I would like to hire a temporary wife, just long enough to clean out the garage and the basement. We'd work side-by-side in a companionable sort of way. I'd apy her too so there would be no hints of servitude.

    And she could eat all the German chocolate cake she wants.

  6. I felt that self-loathing today too - doesn't it suck? Sweet Jo

  7. Ok. My sister texted me about the Rembrandt painting you have hanging in your house. It was in a GIANT Rembrandt book in our house, and we used to run in the living room, open it up to that page, scream and run away. Honestly. I'm cracking up. I'll address the rest of your post when I get off the plane!

  8. That is a very unusual painting to have hanging in a dining room. Kind of kills the appetite, doesn't it?

    I love how kids can be so blunt about things.

    Re. the "three month marriage," the obvious question is, what happens if a child results? Who raises it?

  9. With your doing all the weed pulling and cooking, I think that sweaty arm pits are in order. I remember the first time that I noticed my own arm pit odor--I must have been in fourth grade. I was startled and embarrassed. I asked my dad for deodorant after that. The things that pop up in my head when I read your posts--remembrance of arm pit odor. Tell Owen he is lucky not to live in France.

  10. @Steve - under Islamic law, a child is the mother's responsibility (and her family) until of a certain age (I want to say like 6 years old or so, and the daughters longer than sons), and then the father and his family have full custody.

    So the answer to your question is really: grandmothers.

  11. SJ- I hear that even after the Great Adventures they had, Owen threw a bit of a fit because he so much wanted to be brought out here for a visit. He does it love it out here. And I love THAT.

    Ms. Fleur- It worked on Friday. It usually does work.

    NOLA- Whatever makes all parties involved happy. That's what I say.

    Angella- You are exactly right.

    Beth Coyote- I'm with you, baby. I could use a three-month wife myself. Hell, I'd do her laundry.

    Sweet Jo- It sucks way too hard.

    Elizabeth- DEAD MAN! AND HE'S GREEN!

    Steve Reed- Well, in this book, it was a good thing if a child resulted because it was expected that the man would always support the child AND make sure that the mother was comfortable, even if the "marriage" contract ended.

    Syd- Our bodies never cease to embarrass us. Well, maybe that's just me. I'll tell Owen about France. He won't believe it.

    NOLA- It was different in this book although who knows how accurate it was?

  12. oh you make me laugh and laugh! Esp the second uh, mer, armpit?


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