Tuesday, November 19, 2013


Sun gone, the sky still silver, bare tree skinny bone arms reach out against it.

This can be such a hard time of day, especially in winter when it comes so early, having to bear the weight of so much darkness.

I spent some hours today writing two hundred words. A former Florida drug czar had written an editorial for today's Tallahassee Democrat arguing against the legalization of medical marijuana in Florida. So of course I had to come up with a letter to the editor, even though I've long since given that sort of futile activity up. But this editorial was so filled with ignorance and half-truths and well...there's Sophie and the many thousands of children like her and the potential for so much good if we just quit with the superstition and closed-mindedness about weed. At this point, I feel that anyone who is against even the legalization of recreational marijuana use must be in the penal industry. Is that the right word? Penal? Yes. I checked. Penile is the word followed by "implant."

Yeah, well. I sent the sucker in and there you go. I've done my job, at least as how I define it today.

My dogs are so nicely groomed. They were sent home wearing jaunty little handkerchiefs whose colors reflect those of their blind, milky eyes.
Poor old dogs.
Yet they seem to be in no way suffering. They even take their falls down the back steps with good grace. They do not break any bones. They just keep on with it. Gibson does love old Buster. He hugs him and pats him and croons, "Kitta, kitta." He still thinks that Buster and Dolly are just variations on a cat. If you define a cat as a creature who sleeps twenty-three hours a day, he is not far wrong.

I'm about to make a salad for our supper. Mr. Moon will be home soon and he is never hungry after his long day and drive from the auction. A salad would be good. And I'm going to go ahead and make the cranberry orange relish for our Thanksgiving. It's best if it sits awhile. I am a little excited about Thanksgiving. I talked to Jessie and she and Vergil will be here from Monday until Friday. We'll be having the pre-Thanksgiving party on Tuesday night this year due to certain musician friends taking a gig on the traditional night for the party, which is the night before Thanksgiving. I have let a few people know that. I suppose I should let more people in on the secret. I told Hank that I was really hoping to keep it small this year.
He almost fell over laughing.

And this may work out better anyway. I won't be partying until all hours and then be expected to get up the next morning early, early to make the dinner. I'll have a day to recover and to do more cooking in preparation. To pick up the trash and rewash the tablecloths.
This is the theory, at least.
I haven't really consulted anyone as to conflicting other-family plans. Mmmm...
Perhaps I should do that.
You can see how prepared I am for all of this.
But I can make the cranberry orange relish. I can do that.

And so I shall.

The sky is black now, the last silver bled into darkness. Black as...Hank's cat, Humberto-Humberto, whom I realize I have not posted a picture of lately, if at all, and this would be as appropriate a time as ever. I stole this picture off of Facebook, this picture of Hank's sweet, darling, little Humberto.

Now THAT'S a kitta, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. And that is a great name for a cat!

  2. cranberry orange oh yeah! My momma used to make that. And I have a few oranges from Los Angeles right off the tree!

    XXX B

  3. I think that's one of my least favorite parts of the winter months, the sun setting so early. Especially after 'falling back'. The family is coming to our house for Thanksgiving, the four grandkids are staying til Sunday.

  4. Humberto-Humberto is the new kitten, not the mean cat?

    How do I know these things about your life?? Someday I hope to crash your pre-Thanksgiving dinner - it always sounds soooooo much fun.

    And here at latest meeting with prosecutors, I said we need to legalize marijuana. They laughed. The last laugh will be on me when I convince the legislature. I'll take it slow, but I'm planting seeds ... haha, literally. ;)

  5. The new one, not the mean one. He just always looks affronted in flash photos. Right now he's in kitty-loaf pose on my couch.

  6. Why thank you very much for writing that letter. And I imagine those in Florida "in the know" appreciate it immensely, too.

  7. I love your description of the scarves matching the dog's eyes. Awesome.

    I'm not sure we heard Humberto-Humberto's name before now. As I recall Hank was trying to come up with a name. He found a good one! (Was he thinking of a Spanish translation of Lolita?)

    I'm so glad you wrote in response to that ridiculous medical marijuana column. I'm so sick of old conservative white men who are invested in the status quo, either in the "justice" system or in the pharmaceutical industry. (And I say that as a middle-aged white man.)

  8. The weight of so much darkness line has struck me to my core.

  9. Birdie- He will grow to fit his name.

    Beth Coyote- I love that stuff. LOVE IT!
    That and stuffing- Thanksgiving. The rest of it I don't really care about.

    Ellen Abbott- And are you looking forward to Monday?

    NOLA- Oh, the weed you could grow in Yap! Yes, that is Hank's new kitten.

    Mr. Downtown- You have to admit he looks a bit deranged. But in a handsome cat way.

    Elizabeth- I doubt the paper will even print it. All for naught. Everything is online now.

    Steve Reed- Well, I am an old white woman so you can only imagine how tired I am of this bullshit. Yes, Humberto was named after Lolita's author.

    heartinhand- That is how it feels to me. As if the darkness comes on so heavy.

  10. I am late to comment on this, but I am glad you wrote to the old white conservative bastard. It is so refreshing to read someone near my age that is not a tea bagger.

    I just hate this time of year, and I love the cats name.

  11. good that you have the fire to write a letter to express your thoughts. I have done the same but this is a conservative newspaper that gets just about everything wrong. I would be writing for days.

    And so cool that the old dogs are groomed and look all jaunty with their scarves. I like that. I'm sure that they feel loved.

    I like a black kitty. Reminds me of my old Abraham who I still miss.


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