Monday, December 2, 2013

Routine, How I Love Thee

These wacky boys have settled my heart and so of course, my body feels better too and it was a good day. They decided they wanted pancakes this morning and so I heated up some from yesterday and they didn't eat very much but enough to make me happy and isn't that the point of feeding people?
Well, I think so.

We did all our stuff including chicken feeding (pancakes) and goat gawking and playing in the side yard and telling jokes, the punchline to each one being, "You pee on it."
"Owen," I'd say after each delighted You pee on it!, "I can't figure out how that would work." I was sitting on the swing with Gibson and Owen was sitting on the exercycle and that's where we do jokes.
"It a joke!" he'd say. "You supposed to laugh!"
And I tried. I'm better at bringing myself to actual tears as an actor than I am at fake laughter but I gave it my best shot and then Gibson would laugh too and that would make me really laugh so it was fun.
I smiled this morning when I read Matt Haig's blog post about his son turning six. In it he said that "Five is telling the most terrible of jokes. ('Why did the pig cross the road? Because he had a bottom.')"
I thought to myself when I read that, Well, yes, and Four is the telling of jokes with pee and poop in them. 
And Four is also picking a flower for your grandmother to put in her hair and to play pirates ("Let's look for buried treasure! Land ahoy, Captain! Oh wait. We in Georgia. How THAT happen?") and to be eternally hungry.
Four is wonderful.

Gibson has learned to say "yea." He sounds exactly like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, which is to say, like an adult human male, perhaps with an autism disorder.
"Gibson, do you love MerMer?"
"Gibson, do you want me to hold you?"
Gibson, do you want an apple?"

It doesn't sound like baby talk at all. Not one bit. It delights me so much that I keep asking him questions that I know he'll answer that flat, deep "yea" to. I honestly expect him to follow up with, "I'm an excellent driver," or "K-Mart sucks."He is still such an affectionate little guy. This afternoon I rocked him and he fell asleep in my arms and I went to put him down on the bed but every time I tried to gently disentangle from him, he'd grab me around the neck again and pull me close. It took me twenty minutes to actually remove myself from his grasp and carefully, oh so carefully inch off the bed.

Yes. It was a good day.

And now Mr. Moon is gone off to auction and I've finally cut out the letters for Owen's quilt and that was a bitchy bitch of a bitch-fest for me. I had to go to Hank's and get him to cut me a "W" from a piece of plastic to use as a stencil. I am not kidding. I also had to go to the fabric store to buy interfacing and I did all of that yesterday and going to Joanne's was not a joy and a delight, waiting in line to get my one yard of fusible interfacing cut while every matron in Tallahassee was standing there too with a cart full of red and green and white felt to be cut. Oh well. It was fun going to Hank's where I patted Humbert, the long skinny kitten while Hank got out a pair of scissors and a piece of clear plastic and proceeded to make me a perfect "W" in the space of about two seconds.
It is good to have talented children.

So anyway, yes, I have my letters cut and now I'm going to pin them and sew them on with the machine and tomorrow after I go to the dentist (ARRGGGHHHH!) I will go back to the fucking fabric store to buy embroidery thread to finish putting the letters on because it's not a name blanket if I don't embroider around the letters with embroidery thread and that's all there is to it.

All right. Here's some chicken pictures because they have been sorely lacking around here lately.

That's Miss Trixie with Luna The Cat looking on. The cat and the chickens completely ignore each other. Isn't Miss Trixie's comb looking fabulous?
And the other day I found a nice green egg in a pot of begonias on the front porch and today I saw Miss Ozzie trying like hell to get her butt into another pot (this one empty but for dirt) on the same porch. The pot was not big enough but she tried and she tried.

She does not look amused, does she?
I went out and checked after they went to roost and no, she did not lay an egg in there but at least she seemed to be trying. It's as if suddenly, they remember their purpose here on earth and I will give them credit for that. 

And so it goes and so it has gone today. Children and chickens. And now dinosaur flannel. 

I am so very grateful for the sweet normality of it all that I can barely express it. 

Yours truly...Ms. Moon


  1. I am sending you a photo of a dentist that I saw advertised today in the valley. You will love it, and perhaps come out here to visit this dentist and me.

  2. I think I was as happy to read this routine post about your day with the boys as you were to have it. So many highlights like peeing on it and "yea" and the fucking fabric store. I heart this blog so much!

  3. Grandkids are wonderful things. I had my four over the long weekend. Teenagers all...almost. The youngest will be 13 in February. They will come up and hug me spontaneously still. Except for the boy of course. He will be 17 in January. I can get shoulder hugs from him but I have to initiate it. But, he calls me all the time.

  4. Elizabeth- Haha! I loved that picture. Thank you. I would come and visit you without the dentist. I swear.

    Jill- And that makes me love you so much. Thank you. SO MUCH!

    Ellen Abbott- Owen is in about at the same place as your seventeen-year old grandson. And yet, I know he loves me, just as you know your grandson loves you.

  5. That picture is perfect of the boys! My little nephew (Gibson's twin) is in the hospital and I'm so wishing I were home to take care of his brother while his parents are with him, and just help out in some way. I feel helpless. How did I make this comment on your blog all about me? Well. You know how I do :)


  6. I'm glad the W worked and wasn't wonky.

  7. it all sounds sublime, even the fucking fabric store. those boys...

  8. Mr. DT, we definitely can't have a wonky W around here!

    p.s. wv owedlso and all the letters were wonky...

  9. I would pee on whatever for some sweet normality around here.

    Maybe I should sew something.

  10. Just reading about going to Joanne's gives me a headache, so more power to you. Love the chicken photos! That is indeed a splendid comb. I didn't know hens even had combs -- I thought that was a rooster thing.

  11. SJ- No, that's just horrible! Of course you want to be there to help! I hope he gets better soon.
    Keep me posted.

    Mr. Downtown- It wasn't big enough but I made it so and it is perfect.

    Angella- They amuse me so much. The boys. Not fabric stores which, for some reason, have become craft and crap stores. Mostly.

    Lulumarie- Ha!

    Denise- Yeah, add that to your schedule.

    Steve Reed- Oh yes, hens have combs. Some bigger, some smaller.

  12. Oh, that's a grumpy hen, the downturned mouth! :)

  13. Wonderful photos of the chickens. The comb is really striking.

    I have done all the shopping I am doing and all on line.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.