Is it just me or is that child getting prettier and prettier every day?
I had a good time with my boys this afternoon. Owen's still not 100% well, but close. Gibson, however, feels very warm to me today. He wanted to snuggle a lot. Sometimes when he puts his head on my bosom and lays his body against me he says, "Baby." I love that he is still my baby. Our baby. He can say "chicken" but it comes out more like "Chichen" as in Chichen Itza. He still calls the dogs "kittehs." Owen's new word today was "adorable." I showed him a picture of me when I was a baby. "You were adorable," he said.
I had to pick my heart up off the floor and put it in the freezer for a little while. It had melted.
I also showed Owen the video of his Great Aunt Brenda when she was in the All American Redheads. I've posted the video about three times already but if you've never seen it, it's worth your while. You can find it here.
The incredibly darling woman the video opens with is Mr. Moon's sister, back when she played basketball with that group and they whipped guys' asses all over the Continental United States, the entire team and the manager riding from venue to venue in a station wagon. With all of their luggage, gear, and equipment. I was telling Owen about it and I got so damn choked-up I couldn't talk. There's just something about the sight of those women athletes back in the day when women weren't "supposed" to be athletes that gets me every time. I want to reach back in time and stand up and cheer them on. I want to tell them how strong and beautiful they are. How freaking damn amazing.
Hell. I'm crying again.
Anyway, Owen thought it was a pretty swell video.
We spent some time outside inbetween little rain showers. I checked on the progress of the fig crop. Looking good!
Madame King, this is for you:
Of course we won't get any actual figs to eat because the squirrels and birds will get them but if by some miracle we do, I'm going make some preserves and I swear, Rebecca, I am going to send you a jar.
Dreams can come true. Maybe.
Here's something else that's growing.
That's where I dump my weeds and those flowering plants ARE those weeds which took off all by themselves and are now a complete jungle. Here's a closer picture.
Do any of y'all know what these are? They are obviously invasive as hell and although they have an impressive and cheery bloom, they stink so you can't cut them and bring them in. They smell like cat piss. I would really like to know their names.
We patted the goats and looked for eggs. We shared popcorn with the chickens and while we were sitting on the back steps doing that, Elvis jumped on one of the hens and it is a brutal-looking act and Owen really doesn't understand it and I'm not ready to enlighten him about fucking. Not even chicken-fucking. I just know that one of these years he's going to figure it all out and he's going to be like, "Damn! Elvis was FUCKING those hens!"
In the meantime, he will just be puzzled by the sudden transformation of our normally gentlemanly and sweet rooster into a crazed neck-biting, back-spurring beast. Life is mysterious, baby. And sometimes painful.
At one point, Owen crawled up onto my bed and said, "I so sleepy." And then he fell asleep. I was shocked. Gibson was sleepy too and I rubbed his back until he fell asleep and I just laid there beside them and read for awhile. He woke up a little and I put the book down and pulled him to me and cuddled him and he fell back asleep and I fell asleep too for a little bit, so I did get my nap. A holding-a-baby-nap, which is not just the best kind of nap but a holy experience, as well.
So all-in-all, it's been a very, very fine day. Mr. Moon seems to be having a great time with his sister and I'm so glad of that. At the moment he's sending me pictures of the menu from where they're eating supper and I have to say I'm a little jealous.
No. Not really jealous. A bra would be required and I'm definitely not in the mood to be wearing one of those. But if they could somehow magically transport all of the above to me, I would not complain.
But hell, I've got the best tomatoes in town and some decent olive oil and fresh basil so I could do a little something-something on that order. Wish I had some mozzarella but whatever.
Yeah. It's been another really fine day. I did get more weeding done and I did get that tiny nap and I got to play with my boys and we danced some to the Rolling Stones, Owen and I slangin' hips and Gibson bouncing up and down and I was told that as a baby I was adorable.
When they were leaving, Owen gave me my usual list of instructions which including not gathering the eggs until he comes back because one of the joys of his life is finding eggs in the nest and I'd already gathered them today.
"Take care of you chickens!" he called. "Take care of you goats!"
Then he thought about it for awhile.
"And take care of you butt!" He laughed and laughed and I mentally edged his IQ up another ten points for his joke.
"I will!" I called back.
"And tell Boppy take care of his butt!"
"I will!" I promised.
And they rolled out of the driveway and I came in and cracked a beer and now I'm going to go shut up the chickens and go pick a little basil before it gets dark because for some reason, I'm in the mood for a little Caprese-minus-the-mozz-salad.
"What are you going to do tomorrow?" Lily asked me before they left.
I got a dreamy feeling down to my bones and I said, "Whatever I want."
Amen, y'all. May this giant moon shine down on all of us tonight, gathering us together in her light, wherever we may be and I sincerely mean it when I say...
P.S. Take care of you butt.