Every one of them. Except for those boots and they're sweet.
And Mr. Moon's giant bag of pistachios. That'll be okay.
How do people on tight budgets DO Christmas? I don't think of us as fabulously wealthy but I think we're fairly comfortable and it makes me feel slightly woozy, all the money that we spend this time of year. It's to the point now in stores, and you can see this, where people are just throwing shit into carts, getting it done. It's a frantic attempt to fulfill...something.
I don't know.
I did have a good time at a nursery in Tallahassee today. I bought a present for some friends which is silly and ridiculous and I think they will like it and it made me happy. They're having a little get-together tomorrow and we're actually going and I'll be seeing some of my Monticello friends whom I haven't seen in awhile and that will be very fine. I also bought myself some pansies and violas which I will plant in the rusted red wagon beside the kitchen porch.
So that was good.
But that's not what I came here to talk about. No, what I came here to talk about is the fact that this is going to be on Showtime tonight.
Just in time to save me from my despair and the gloom of the last of the shortest days of the year.
I am not kidding, I am not joking, I am serious as Phil Robertson standing up there on the pulpit with a Bible. I am going to visit the Church of The Rolling Stones and I am just as happy as an old hippy grandma can be. Last year around this time we got the Pay Per View of a Stones concert and in my heart of hearts, I cherish that night as one of the best of my entire life.
Old Duck Dynasty Phil may have given up sex, drugs, and rock and roll but some of us still honor the theory of it all, even if we're not nearly as participatory and wild as we once were and long ago became far more discriminatory about all three of those elements, speaking on a personal level.
But hellfire, Martha. If Mick and Keith and Charlie and Ron can still get up there and do it, if Mick can still hit the high notes and wiggle his great-grandpa hips and jut his chin up in the air and if Keith can still play the chords to Satisfaction with his fingers, crooked and bent from all the years they've spent on fret and keyboard and if Charlie can still hit those drums and if Ron can still do those leads, well, I'm going to sit in the pews and I might even get up and dance.
Gotta have faith in something.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Love...Ms. Moon, Church of the Batshit Crazy Where Keith Richards Is A Constant And Abiding Miracle Of Our Times