Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Slow Can Be Good

I woke up this morning feeling as if someone had used my body to clean an entire battleship with. I kept walking around saying, Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus, and the cat looked at me like, I'm not Jesus, I'm the cat. Feed me. 
These dreams. Lord have mercy. This morning's involved me being in a sort of reality cooking show. I saw no cameras but there were judges who appeared to be mostly intent on partying. Also- no industrial kitchen. Just some shitpile of a house. No real food either. "I"m not a chef," I kept saying, "Just a woman who's made a million meals for her family." I wanted someone to play "Satisfaction" on the sound system but they kept getting the wrong song. It pissed me off so much.
I made a meatloaf on my five inches of gray cracked formica counter space of things I scavenged from the refrigerator. I was planning a ketchup/balsamic reduction to top it. When I woke up, I'd been hacking the leavings of fruit off mango seeds and was thinking I'd boil them for some sort of custard. The knife was the dullest knife in the world. I couldn't find any flour. I was hoping there were bananas somewhere. A mango banana pudding?
Bless my heart.

So I took my walk but it was slow going. I always WANT to walk slowly but today there was no choice about it. Mr. Moon reports that his workout was really hard today too. May is sick at home today and SHE reports that everyone is sick now. EVERYONE.

It is one degree-of-light closer to fall today. There is no doubt at all. I feel as if I am floating on a warm, gentle sea with cool air above me, contemplating sending the children out to sift periwinkles from the sand as the waves retreat to simmer and strain to make a broth to cook with onions and celery and potatoes and a little bacon for a soup, saving the shells and making a mosaic from them. In real life I am simmering black beans that I soaked last night. The boys will be here soon. Jessie reports she is stiff and sore but fine. Life, at this moment, is golden and salty and buzzy with crickets and crooning hens.
I could happily sit here on my back porch all day, eyes open and eyes shut, the images from both perspectives equally fine.

A complete wonder:

This butterfly (deceased) suddenly appeared, and I do mean most suddenly, back turned, then there, in a white plastic bowl by my sink.

It's that sort of day.

And thus, Hosannas.


  1. Holy moly, your dreams! I'm fascinated by how detailed your recall is. Im sorry you're not feeling well, though. Yes, take it slow. Let those boys pamper you. (like I never had little ones, ha!) You could always lock all of you in the same room so that at least the range of motion is contained.

  2. Hosanna for all butterflies.
    Maybe opening an infirmary that serves mango banana pudding would be good today.

  3. A slow walk is certainly okay.
    Lovely butterfly. Looks like one we saw in a garden a few weeks ago. I posted it... but I post so many photos that it didn't get the the beautiful highlight that you gave this one here.

    Have a nice evening.


  4. This is some fine and rocking writing!

  5. Angella- Sometimes I do that. We all get on my bed and I let Owen play games on my iPad and Gibson and I play and read books and sometimes he watches a movie. At least we are sort of resting, right?

    Denise- I keep thinking about that. How I was imagining a pie would look with the sliced bananas and the mango custard over it. But where was the flour for the crust? Ah, lah.

    Crystal Chick- Lily informed me that the butterfly had been on the shelf above the sink. I'd forgotten!

    Elizabeth- You're too sweet. Thank you.

  6. My dreams are stranger than ever right now, my sleep in 2-3 hour chunks at best. Lord, everyone is sick here too, all the girls on the volleyball team, some out with strep, and there's a mystery enterovirus sweeping across the nation and west nile everywhere and so many new things to worry inappropriately about. The cold remedy section at the grocery store was picked clean, it was crazy. For two days, I feel like I've been beaten with sticks the last few mornings. I feel your pain, is what I'm getting at. I told my husband last night that I would be a glad if whatever this shit is just had a name, I'm not asking for a cure just something to call this besides a bad day. Today my sinus are filling up and I'm sneezing so maybe I'm just getting the crud making the rounds.
    Thank goodness for the beautiful butterflies, and their miraculous appearance.
    Hope you feel better soon. xo

  7. Bless your heart indeed. And, that butterfly is a gift!

  8. That is an unbelievable dream. You really do have incredibly detailed dreams -- or you recall the details better than most (and write about them more lyrically!).

    As for the butterfly -- a tiger swallowtail! A sure sign that fall is coming when one drops dead in your kitchen.

  9. The gardens have been filled with swallowtails of all kinds. I can tell that fall is on the way even though it is hot and humid still. The light is different. And I find it beautiful.

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