I hung my sheets on the line today and I believe it may have taken them about ten minutes to dry. Seriously, faster than the dryer and that's for sure. As you can see, my sheets match about as well as my "china." I've had two weddings in my life and I believe that I got maybe two wedding presents. Okay, two that I can remember. One was a blanket from a friend of my mother's and one was a toaster.
But hell, my first wedding was not planned until I told the father of my unborn child that we were going to go to Georgia THAT DAY to get married so go get dressed, and the second wedding was decided upon on a Monday and occurred on Thursday. That was a good wedding though and there was even a white dress and a little reception with a wedding cake and there were flowers and everything. Hell, Mr. Moon even wore a tux. It was sort of the Miracle Wedding and I remember it fondly, far more fondly than I remember my first wedding which happened in a judge's chambers in Bainbridge, Georgia and we didn't have enough money to buy lunch and the judge waived the blood-test requirement because I was pregnant, but you know...whatever.
It was sort of sweet.
But with weddings like that, you aren't exactly going to take the time to pick out a china pattern. I'm still sort of looking at china and wondering if maybe someday I'd like some that matches but I probably won't. I'm not really a china pattern sort of girl. Woman. Old woman.
Can I talk about my dogs? When can you morally decide to put the old fuckers down? Mine are still relatively healthy, I guess (I never take them to the vet so who really knows?) but they're blind as bats. They run into door frames and can't figure out how to get outside and I'll be damned if I'm going to carry them outside and back in so that they can pee and poop. All they do is sleep and occasionally eat. Buster does follow the children around but I'm fairly sure that it's just because he knows they drop a lot of food. He can't SEE the food, but he can smell it and eventually he'll find it and eat it up. Dolly doesn't even bother to do that. So seriously- what's the verdict on taking them in for their final nap? Do they have to be "suffering" for it to be justified? I will admit that they don't appear to be suffering at all but doesn't MY suffering enter into the equation?
Yeah. Probably not.
So. Really that's about all I have to discuss. Mr. Moon is out of town again and I am beginning to wonder if I have a husband at all and maybe if I had a damn china pattern he'd stay home more often but I doubt it. He's no more of a china pattern type of man than I am a woman (old) and we're talking about going to Dog Island this weekend which would probably be a good thing although I did make a proclamation a little while ago that I WASN'T GOING BACK UNTIL HE DID SOMETHING ABOUT THE FLOOR IN THE KITCHEN THERE but it was probably a hollow proclamation and he knows it. I have to tell you though that between the heat and the humidity and my general ennui right now, the thought of packing up everything we'd need for Dog Island and loading up the boat and then unloading the boat and loading the jeep and then unloading the jeep and hauling everything upstairs is a bit overwhelming. But then again, everything seems overwhelming to me right now and that includes dusting my library and calling the dog groomer to make an appointment for my non-suffering blind dogs. Washing the damn sheets and hanging them on the line and bringing them in and making the bed up was about the ultimate act of activity I was capable of today. I was reading a thing in the new Esquire magazine and it said "(continued on page 212)" and I was like, "Noooooo....So much work!" It's the annual Style Issue and as much as I love Esquire, I don't give a rat's ass about men's fashions because they're always the fucking same. Shirts and pants. There you go. Shoes. Well, what can you expect? It is a men's magazine and even if the writing is superb they're going to have to put some shit in there about men's fashion at least once a year. Actually, they put something in every month but it doesn't take up much space. I think my kids probably got half their sex education from the sex advice column in Esquire but at least it's written with humor and intelligence and probably at least a modicum of scientific accuracy. I had to get my sex education off the streets and from Reader's Digest and Good Housekeeping and the Bible, especially the Old Testament, and none of it was very accurate and some of it was horribly frightening. Guess where the frightening stuff came from? Whoo! The Bible sure talks about some kinky shit. Somehow the Religious Right never seems to have read any of that stuff. What's up with that? I will also say, in Esquire's defense (not that it needs my defense) that this ad appeared in this month's issue:
Speaking of weed, if you haven't read Elizabeth's post today, go do it now.
Unlike me, she really has something to say.
God, it's hot and I'm weary. I'll bet I'm in bed by nine tonight.
Dance on, babies. I've said all I need to say.