Friday, October 17, 2014

Go Pour A Drink And Join Me Here. Please Tell Me What You're Thinking.

I've got a little touch of the melancholy tonight. Sun going down earlier every day, no man coming home this evening to give me an excuse to make something with buttermilk and a grain and a fat. I don't know what, just anything. Biscuits, cornbread, chicken pot-pie. No reason to chop or simmer or cut or slice or grate or bake or mix with my hands or a spoon or taste as it simmers or brown or broil or poach or poke with a fork.

"Or" is one of those words that if you use it a lot, it starts to look really weird and wrong. Just saying. And no, I'm not stoned.

I feel useless. Didn't get much of the garden hoed. Let me tell you something- hoeing is hard work. I don't know how those people used to do it. And plenty still do it- you know, those illegal immigrants who come here and get a brand new Cadillac, food stamps, free education, and premium health care at absolutely no cost just because they cross the border? People who labored and who do labor in the fields for fourteen hours a day or from-can-to-can't, as they said. Can see until can't see
If I had to work like that to make my bread I'd just flat-out die.

I do have clean sheets on the bed. I held them to my face, folded up from the line and their silken crispness smelled exactly like sheets dried on the line should smell. I hope Maurice appreciates them.

I took the trash down to the trash place and Lord, a candidate for a local office was standing on the corner in Mr. Lawrence's old parking lot (did they get permission from Mr. Lawrence?) with his wife and about four hangers-on, waving signs and their hands and grinning like crazy and there was a fucking Elvis impersonator. If that's what it takes to get elected in this county then we deserve what we get. I've gotten about fifteen mailings from this guy. He wears a pilot's outfit in his picture and he, like everyone, claims to be Christian and is all about lowering taxes and doing something to encourage business growth in Jefferson County. I was in a play with his wife once. They own a B&B nearby and I remember Colin once describing it as a place that looked "like a doily factory exploded in it."
Well, what B&B doesn't? Add that to all the fucking potpourri and having to eat breakfast in a room with strangers who probably want to make conversation and I avoid those things like the plague.
Anyway, he's not the person I'm personally voting for and I seriously doubt that Mr. Lawrence did give them permission because when we talked last he referred to the man's opponent by her first name and called her a "sweetheart."
Well, y'all. This is what local politics are like and I may have just made about fifty-eight new enemies and so what?
No one's paying me for anything and this is America, home of the free, land of the brave, where you can carry a gun because it's your god-given right, and say what you want, no matter how idiotic you sound.

Thank you very much. And for my next song...

Well, hell. The chickens are putting themselves to bed. There's always some squabble going on as they choose their roosts for the night. The hens fuss and work it out but Elvis always gets his own Most Special Employee Of The Forever nest-roost. It all reminds me so much of the court of the Tudor Royalty. I'm not even kidding you.

So. Yeah. Melancholy. This might be an evening of solo Tito drinking and Youtube Rolling Stones watching.

I just found this one a few minutes ago and I love it for the Old Ronnie/Old Keith guitar communication work. It's from a concert filmed last June and if you watch the whole thing, you can see Keith and Ronnie literally getting down and sometimes, when the melancholy overtakes you, you can't do shit but watch a little Rolling Stones.

Maurice brought home another squirrel tail today, this one totally attached to the squirrel. I heard her bell tinkling in the kitchen bathroom and went to investigate and there she was, working over a perfect, unbleeding corpse of a teenaged squirrel.
"Sigh," I said, Mr. Moon being nowhere in sight.

I got the broom and swept the poor creature onto the dustpan and walked it out to the woods behind the chicken coop and threw it over the fence.
"I'm sorry," I said, as I heaved it.

And I am.

A week from tonight I'll be in Roseland, watching the sunset over the Sebastian River. We might end up in the lion pool.

Who knows? Not me. But if history tells us anything, it could very possibly happen. The pool I discovered as a child which seemed as mysterious as an Egyptian pyramid to my little eight-year old self. Last night I dreamed that I was staying in Roseland and somehow had to take a child back to the house where my best friend, Lucille Ferger lived. In my dream I had a very strong olfactory sense of what that house had smelled like. I've never done that before that I can recall. It smelled of urine and rodents and old linoleum, which in my dream, I saw peeled up in the corners. That house is still there. I don't know if my dream-memory-smell was anything like what Lucille's house really smelled like but I'll never forget the night she and I camped out under a tent made of a blanket spread between their garage and chicken coop with our little mosquito repellent burner and the millions of stars which shone above us in the night time sky.


If you can't have sweet dreams, then have some damn interesting ones. Okay?

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I just cracked a beer, and I am thinking of how I am flying to Louisville next week for a second interview for a job I really want. And I'm thinking of how hard it will be to leave and how much I WANT to leave and, and and and. You've heard all this before I think :)


  2. And no one even knows about any of that up there, so you feel very special othermother :)

  3. Ms. SJ- Darling, I am graced by you and have been for years. Yes. I know. I am very glad to be an othermother. I love you. To pieces.

  4. I had frozen pizza with my roommate and all of our kids (boys age 13, 8, 3) and soon the 3 year old will be in bed and the rest of us will have movie night with popcorn made in the cast-iron skillet and red wine for the adults only. It has been a day, but I'm thankful for it nonetheless.

  5. Sometimes I have to chuckle at the way the lives of complete strangers are mirrored. Today was the most gorgeous day ever - sunny, not a cloud in the sky, brisk cool breezes. So of course I hung out all the towels and bedding and they smell like a gift offered from a grinning Mother Earth.

    I stay out of politics. I can't stomach Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, or most any right-winger. So I've learned to keep my mouth shut.

    My husband will be home from work at 10, and we'll sit on the porch and have cocktails and snacks.

    I started packing for Florida tonight and felt guilty for all the clothes, shoes, purses, etc., some still with price tags, that I've never worn. So far have gathered up 3 large black bags for Goodwill and only halfway through.

    I'm dog tired...and I checked online because I just let the dog out and am waiting by the back door where the computer is for him to be done with his business and to sniff every blade of grass. The crickets sound really loud tonight. Either that or my ears are ringing from the tireds.

    Can't wait to get a shot of Limoncello in my tummy and then stretch out under those sheets.

    You asked, and I told you, lol.
    Have a really good weekend!

  6. Sweet dreams to you, Ms. Moon. Hope the melancholy feelings pass soon. It must be going around because it has joined me on the couch tonight. Looking forward to feeling better tomorrow. Take care.

  7. Tonight I'm listening to the boys watch a movie and have made a corner of the basement into my office and am drinking wine and it smells like woodsmoke and rain outside. Next week, it'll be my anniversary too, though I'll spend the weekend in a hotel room in Michigan while my boy sees his dad for the weekend.

    But it's dark and wet and cold and smells like autumn outside, and all my boys are home and I have a candle and a mirror and a little corner of the basement hung with twinkle lights and all to myself. Come on over and I'll pour you a glass.

  8. We have someone here running for a judgeship who has been disbarred. Honest.

    Nelson Mandela was in my last dream. He was in the living room and I was so astonished, I just sat on the couch with him. I think it's because I'm really trying to forgive some people in my life and he was damn good at the forgiveness thing.

    I love you this ______________________ much.

  9. Okay, first please forgive me but I can't resist your dreams. The little girl you were taking by the hand to that rank smelling place, it was you. The dream shrinks would say you are reparenting yourself in your dream or some such. It seems good that the memory it led you to was a happy time in that tent under the stars, a sweet memory.

    These days, when melancholy comes, I say, Hey there, come in on. Don't stay awhile. Sometimes it might even work.

    I love you so much. It's only 8:26 am as I write this but I'm pouring that drink, pulling up that chair.

    And that Colin sure knew his way around a simile. But that B&B my man and I stayed in in Ithaca had not a doily in sight and very fine living room bar and sunroom. I think you would have loved it.

  10. Blue Gal- I ended up with a frozen pizza too. Your evening sounds pretty fine to me. I hope the movie was good.

    Laynie- And I'm glad you did tell me! And we are mirroring each other! Both of us, listening to crickets, sleeping on clean sheets. Lovely.

    Mr. Shife- It happens, doesn' it? Because we are human and have to feel ALL the emotions. I guess. May today be a sweet one.

    Ramona Quimby- Ah! Goodness. All of us with our twinkle-light places, our joys, our sorrows, our continuing on, no matter what, sometimes with joy or peace or contentment. I would indeed join you. Thank you.

    Beth Coyote- How very kind of Nelson Mandela to show up and sit with you as you work things out.
    Ah, goodness. Forgiveness. That's a tricky one, isn't it? I love you that much too. From here to there. I do.

    Angella- You are probably right. I know that some of the dream shrinks say we are all of the characters in our dreams. I believe we sure are a lot of them.
    Maybe it's just southern B&B's that have such foolishness. The one you stayed in sounds divine!
    And you're right- no need to try and push melancholy away before it's done. It'll just come back for more.
    I love and adore you.

  11. I was so tired last night I couldn't work up the energy to be melancholy, but I tried. If I'd had to hoe or cook or sweep up a dead squirrel, I probably would have collapsed.

  12. When elections roll around I do my best to ignore all of the shit. Right before the actual day I look for one of those online things where you can read straight up what each candidate represents and I decide from there. I must say though there is one candidate that I have gotten at least 50 mailings about and for the paper alone I dont' know if I can vote for her. I have no idea if I agree with her politics but if I find out I do I may cry.

  13. That Maurice is one hell of a hunter!

  14. I'm lying on my bed recovering from hours spent making and decorating a giant lemon cake. I'm catching up on blogs and waiting for my son to get ready for the homecoming dance.

  15. Denise- I am living a life or relative ease so I can do these things and STILL have room for melancholy. Jeez.

    Jill- The woman I'm voting for has sent me at least as many pieces of mail. I swear. It's so ridiculous. I hear you.

    Steve Reed- The females of the species always are, in my experience.

    Elizabeth- That cake, as viewed on FB is so fucking amazing that I can't believe it. You are a cake artist. I hope you post a picture (at least) of the homecoming couple. Do kids still give mums corsages for homecoming? I still remember the year I went with a date. I remember what I wore and the smell of my mums corsage. And the name of my date. I wonder if he's still alive.

  16. I've had some of that melancholy feeling too. Fall does that to me and with a good friend dead--well, there you go. It is enough to be a little sad. But going on the boat this week will definitely help.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.