Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Very Diverse Ramblings

When Mr. Moon and I were on our way home from Roseland we stopped in Titusville for lunch at El Leoncito. "Mexican & Cuban Restaurant" as the sign says and it was really a fine place. It was packed, too, at 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon, with families and couples and I got a cup of black bean soup that was so good I have been in despair, knowing that I cannot replicate it. I'm trying though, with a crock pot full of black beans I started yesterday along with finely chopped tomatoes, garlic, peppers, and onions. And a bay leaf. It won't be as good as the soup I ate on Sunday and I know it but I just can't help myself. Some people know how to cook black beans and some people don't. I'm in the middle. The chef at El Leoncito surely does know how and I wish I could have a little chat with him.
It was an interesting interlude in our drive, mostly because I did a lot of eavesdropping. The couple sitting behind us was working on a pitcher of beer and when we first got seated, they seemed to be headed into an argument.
"I'll make the casserole and I'll walk the dog," she said. It didn't sound to me as if she wanted to do either. Then she said something about, "But you don't HAVE to go to work. You only go if you want to." I waited for the fireworks to begin but they never did. They drank more beer and waited for their food and before too long, they'd mellowed. They'd done that thing long-term couples do which is to stop and think about what the consequences of an argument over something essentially meaningless will be and they back off and go down other conversational paths and by the time their food got there, they were getting a bit sloppy in the speech but they were much happier.
Two ladies were seated beside us about that time. They appeared to have just come from church where, as I ascertained from listening, they both worked, perhaps as Sunday School teachers. I am not sure. They ordered their tea and their water and their tacos and they bowed their heads and one of them said a little prayer before the food got there and they discussed church business. The receptionist for the office had suddenly left with very little warning and THAT after having held the position for FOURTEEN YEARS!
Something shocking was happening there.
And then the beer-drinking couple started dropping F-bombs. Oh my god. I thought the two church ladies would surely get up and leave but they just pretended they couldn't hear and ate their tacos, one with the regular salsa, one with the mild.

I am so easily entertained.

But the long and short of all of that is that I have black beans cooking in the crockpot. I am feeling exceptionally fine today. I've gotten a lot done in preparation for my boys and am feeling more settled, and less like every one of my nerve endings is rudely exposed. The clutter in my house seems less like mindfuckery to me and more like merely an interesting place where people do a lot of living.
Still, I long to get rid of some things. Like the piano, for one. No one ever plays it but the boys who do not of course, play it so much as just bang on it with great enthusiasm as accompaniment to the Rolling Stones. I think that having that hallway back, cleared out and roomier would do grand things for my mind.
Anyone want a piano?
No. Of course not. Old pianos are like old typewriters. Everyone has one and thinks they're worth something and they are not. Especially old pianos like mine which was sweetly gifted to me by my ex-husband when Jessie was still home and she did play it some but it's so out of tune and there are actual keys missing and well...
Seriously. Anyone want a piano?

So. Here we are. Another day and the bed is made and the laundry is going and the trash is taken and the dragonflies at the trash depot were thick as dancing thieves and my walk was good and a hen just laid an egg and I think my husband may have shot a few squirrels this morning because they are annoying the SHIT out of him by sitting in the pecan trees and casually plucking and taking one bite of the nuts and then throwing them down on the ground and on the cars where they lay and leak their vital fluids (yes, nuts have vital fluids) and stain the cars and ruin the finish. I really should learn to cook squirrel but I'm not going to unless it becomes strictly necessary for protein requirements.
One never knows and that could happen but it hasn't happened yet.

My boys are coming and Owen is already packing his toys up to bring because GOD KNOWS THERE AREN'T ENOUGH TOYS HERE and it's not too hot and I think that Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis is on tonight and there can't be too much Jeff Lewis for me. I wonder what would happen if he and Jenni and Zoila came to my house to do a little interior therapy and I'm pretty sure he'd walk in the door, take one look at the aprons and deer heads hanging on the wall, and walk right out.
"Nope," he'd say. "Not even going to try to straighten out that fucked-up shit."

Oh well. It's my fucked-up shit and today I'm enjoying it.

One more thing- I'm sending out a little happy birthday love to Elizabeth. 
One of the joys of my life is getting to know people through the blog and I feel incredibly fortunate to have met this woman. She is a force for good in this universe. She is fierce and eternally loving in her mothering. She is a writer who knocks the doors off my mind at least once a day.
And she is beautiful.

So happy birthday, Elizabeth! Live forever, okay? Or at least as long as you want to. Joyfully.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. That Elizabeth really is something else! Amazing.

    I remember squirrel as being not too different from venison. Tough when cooked on its own so we would always eat it with dumplings. But, it didn't taste too bad and I actually shot one once with my bb gun and brought it home like I was Daniel Boone. The daydreaming that went through my mind of being a pioneer while swinging that squirrel home was the stuff that only kids can dream.

    And I have never more sounded like a Kentuckian than I have right now, here in this comment field. Lawsy Mercy.

  2. No, not my bb gun. It was my 22 rifle. I was 11.

    You're welcome.

  3. I don't think I was at El Leoncito last night, but that argument sounds really familiar ... And over beers and a lot of F bombs.
    I love eavesdropping. It's one of my favorite pastimes.

  4. My brother-in-law fed his kids squirrel when they were tight on money. Twenty years later & those kids still think it was chicken (and I'm certainly not going to be the one to tell them!).

    I could eat some black bean soup right now...

  5. I'm sure your black bean soup will be divine. Add some acid to it at the end like lemon or lime juice. Gives it just the right note.
    Is there some kind of cure for obsessing about food? I think I may need help.

  6. What stuck out to me about this post is your noticing the difference in the type of salsa thee women put on their tacos. Keen observational skills. Sweet Jo

  7. I know that nerve exposed feeling. I feel that way most of the time.

    It wasn't until I read this that I realized I need to do more than crack a can of Kuner's if I want some delectable black beans like I get at Chipotle. Good grief.

    I enjoyed your restaurant observations thoroughly.

  8. SJ- I love that image of you carrying your own gun-shot squirrel home more than I can say. I swear I do.

    Rachel- Me too! It's a tiny window into others' worlds.

    The Bug- Hey- it's clean meat.

    Yobobe- You're just obsessing about food because your mind is weary and food is easy. I usually add a little vinegar at the end. And then chopped sweet onions on top. It's almost ready!

    Sweet Jo- I heard them order. I laughed to myself because the salsa seemed way gringo to me already.

    Ms. Vesuvius- It was an interesting contrast of two tables, I'll tell you that.

  9. I've got a lot of catching up to do. About to sit down and savor every post i've missed now...

  10. I love listening in to other people's conversations. They can be so interesting.

    You could turn the old piano into a planter.

  11. "the dragonflies at the trash depot were thick as dancing thieves"


  12. Well, dang. I had the nicest birthday one could possibly imagine, and then there's this. Thank you, dear Mary -- my admiration for you knows no bounds!

  13. I love what you said about Elizabeth. Its so true. I feel that way about you too, dear Mary. Glad things are feeling less jangly.

  14. I don't eaves drop much in restaurants. But it sounds like an interesting group where you were. Most of the restaurants are so loud around here, especially the popular ones.


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