I'm drinking a Sam Adam's seasonal release beer from the season of last Christmas which has been in our refrigerator since then. No one wanted to try the Cherry Chocolate Bock and Mr. Moon finally said, "Oh, just drink it," and so I opened it and if I had to define it, I would say that people who have a deep fondness for cough syrup might enjoy it. But hell, Martha, who am I to waste a beer?
I have a giant iron skillet simmering with a whole bunch of peppers from the garden and one small eggplant all diced up and a giant sweet onion and garlic and a package of sweet basil chicken sausages from the Trader Joe's all sliced up along with a jar of Trader Joe's pasta sauce. Oh- and some artichoke hearts too. Mr. Moon is home from finally finishing up that siding AND selling a car AND getting a nice trade-in. He was happy about all of that and told me how nice the woman was who bought the car and how glad he was that he could make her happy.
I know I've said this before but when my husband first broached the idea of selling cars as a business to me I said, "You can't do that, you're too honest."
Turns out people really like honest car dealers.
I could go on for hours about my husband. About what a truly fine man he is. How he's not afraid of any challenge, how he treats people, all people, with respect. How he's strong and how he's gentle. How much it makes my heart happy to see him with his grandsons.
How very hard he's worked for thirty years to show me that a man can be trusted. That dreams can come true.
I almost believe him at this point. He is steadfast and true. And he can still make me laugh. And swoon. Honest to god.
I've had a quiet day. Didn't put up any siding or sell anything to anybody. I did some house-wife stuff and then I got in my office and tried to pick up the novel I'm supposedly working on and as with my walk this morning, every word like every step I took, was difficult and hard and required all of my energy. I never once slipped the bounds of time or space to go into that place which is timeless and free that happens when the good writing is going on.
I have my doubts that I can ever go there again.
After several not-quite but almost agonizing hours of putting one foot in front of the other, metaphorically at least, the truth being one word in front of another, I finally shut 'er down and went out to the garden because I said I would and I pulled weeds and picked the peppers and eggplant. Maurice came out and tried to make a game of me pulling the weeds and her attacking me but she tired of it quickly and retreated to the porch to laze and dream. I baked a loaf of bread that's probably going to be way too sturdy and hearty with crunchy grains but what the hell? We'll eat it.
Missy moved back out to the pump house again. I put her in the basket again. She is most definitely in the brood-coma although I did see her eat and drink this morning. I know her eggs can't be fertile- she hasn't gotten off the nest long enough to be fertilized. She sits with her eyes open, her head down, obeying nature's commands to her without thought or logic. My job is not to dissuade her but to keep her as safe as possible through this period of hormonal insanity.
Not at all unlike being the mother of a teenager, as I recall from being both a teenager and the mother of teenagers.
I've finished that beer. It sucked but I feel a little more relaxed. Probably like people who are fond of cherry cough syrup feel when they've hit that particular nostrum's bottle.
Time to go make the salad, boil the pasta, slice the bread.
Oh- one more thing- I have my appointment with the orthopedist to see about my wrist next week and the office called me to remind me and to inform me that if I wanted to, I could pre-do my paperwork for the medical history by going to the website and doing it online. And so I did. You just click on the "Patient Portal" button and you're presented with an entire whole history form to fill out and so I filled it out, once more realizing how incredibly lucky I am in my health history (knock wood) and it was so weird and there was a warning that the site was created for Internet Explorer and if you were using any other web browser, to be aware of that. Meaning? If I was using Chrome my history could be read by anyone in the whole world with an internet connection? Was I stupid for filling it out and submitting it?
You tell me.
I'm allergic to sulfa drugs. There.
I better go get supper on the table for my hard-working husband.
See you tomorrow...Ms. Moon