From my walk this morning and oh god, aren't I lucky? And let me admit something to you- I am listening to yet another Philipa Gregory book on CD's. What is this? Like the fourth one? The woman has written dozens of these tomes. And I am finally getting burnt out. I am spending way too much time in my mind trying to figure out who is who. Not within the book itself but as linked to the other ones I've listened to. A big part of the problem is that ALL of the women are named either Elizabeth or Anne and ALL of the men are named either Henry, Edward, or Richard. I think those were the only name-choices at that time. If you were in any way related to the throne, at least.
Occasionally there's a Margaret thrown in or a Mary but for the most part, nah.
But who cares? Just go along with it and be glad I'm not a woman back in those days because it just doesn't seem like much fun and if you're a woman of royal blood, you don't get to nurse your own baby because you have to get yourself whipped back into shape and return to the marriage bed ASAP to breed another boy and frankly, it doesn't sound like any of the royal fucking was of a great deal of pleasure to anyone.
So. Here's another picture I took of Jessie and Vergil in their new house yesterday.
In some cases, this is quite true. I shall not go deeper into that conversation.
Speaking of Mr. Moon, he has taken off to Georgia again and that is fine. I have finally reached the point in my life where I do truly understand the acceptance of that which cannot be changed and there is no changing this man and when the weather turns chilly he is going to be hunting and because of the tiny bit of guilt he may feel for leaving me so frequently he is as sweet as pie when he's home, even sweeter than usual, which is very, very sweet already.
La-di-dah and praise the day which is beautiful as can be again although it was cold when I got up and when I say cold, I mean below sixty. Laugh all you want. I live in Florida for a reason.
It took over half the morning, though, to get him out of the house, loaded up and on the road. It's like cramming all the circus monkeys into the truck every time. I really don't have a lot to do in the process except to make sure he has his pillows and to make him a breakfast and to kiss him good-bye but I didn't get out for my walk until late and now it's already afternoon. I do have the sheets hung out on the line.
Aren't they pretty, hanging in the dappled light?
When I was on the last bit of my walk, I saw a man who lives down the road from me and he had, as he usually does, his child jogging stroller and in it he had three fence posts and his Holy Bible which is quite large and looks to be well-read. His property is in constant flux although his No Man Lord sign on the cross in front of whatever he is dwelling in is a constant. The dwellings may change but the sign does not. He is always busy and is currently building a fence and I don't know where he is getting the materials but every day I see him walk by with that stroller and some sort of wood or wire that he needs.
I said a cheerful "Good morning!" to him and he smiled and returned my greeting. He was just standing at the corner with his loaded vehicle and rolling a cigarette with paper and tobacco and I was glad to see him.
"How you doing?" I asked him.
"Busy," he said.
"You're always busy," I told him, and he is, even when he is taking a break. The man is no spring chicken.
Anyway, here I am, home again, with the sheets on the line and if this isn't a perfect day to go and hoe the garden, then I've never seen one that is.
Happy Friday, y'all.