Saturday, December 20, 2014
We decided on this gray and chilly day to get in the car and drive down to the coast to try and find more rock shrimp. We were willing to go all the way to Carabelle where I got the last ones we ate but this place in Panacea had what we wanted. And so we bought five pounds and also some cobia which had just come out of the smoker as well as some crab meat.
Maybe I'll cook some of the rock shrimp and make a big bowl of spicy cocktail sauce for Lily's Christmas Eve supper. And some smoked fish dip.
We shall see.
While we were down there, we stopped in at a restaurant on the bay for a late lunch. We'd heard good things about it but it was far from fabulous today. We both got salads and split a platter of seafood. Oysters, shrimp, scallops, fish. Usually a plate like that comes with hushpuppies and cole slaw and has enough food on it to make plenty for two. This one, however, being in a very cool Tiki structure instead of a cement block building that was originally a crab packing plant or something, was stingy as hell and there were three shrimp and about four oysters that you could have used a jeweler's loupe to truly see and maybe three scallops and a hunk of fish which they SAID was grouper and it may have been but it sure wasn't fresh.
And no hushpuppies. And no coleslaw.
The fries were the best thing on the damn plate.
Neither Mr. Moon's nor my stomach has been happy with what we ate either.
We saw a doe and her two babies beside the road in the woods on our drive home. That was sweet. No. Mr. Moon did not stop and shoot any. I was mostly quiet, the whole drive there and back. I did the crossword on the way down and we listened to Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me!
When I am anxious, I get very quiet. It is part of it. I withdraw into my own fear, berating myself constantly for falling prey to such silliness. Again.
There are those of you who know exactly what I am talking about and if you are not one of those people, well, thank your lucky stars. Thank your lucky fucking stars.
Garrison Keillor is on. I love being able to see him on the computer as he does his show. He does make me laugh. He is soothing to me. He just told us that he does not need any more copies of Walden. He has five or six copies already and he was into Thoreau when he was nineteen but he's over it now.
To tell you the truth, I tried for many years to read that book. I don't think I ever really finished it. Which I guess is odd, seeing how much I love nature and all that shit. I think I got the concept and didn't need the details, at least as reported by Thoreau.
So yes, that made me smile.
It's Saturday night, the Eve of the Winter Solstice. I'm sure I'm supposed to be doing something in the ritual sense. I just looked that up on the Google because that's what we do now.
Here are a few suggestions:
Consider watching the sun rise or set from your little patch of the world. Write a poem. Make a list of loving wishes for friends, family, coworkers—even people you don’t know that well. Build a shrine of nature’s found objects. Light a candle. Reflect on your aspirations for the coming months. Throw the I Ching. Say a prayer. Sing an original song.
Read more: http://www.motherearthliving.com/health-and-wellness/simply-solstice-celebrate-winter-with-new-and-old-traditions.aspx#ixzz3MU4KRGZe
Well. I have lit candles already. I don't have a copy of the I Ching. I don't pray. My aspirations for the coming months mostly involve Don't Go Crazy Again. I do make up silly songs to sing to the boys but they're not here tonight. I don't see the point of making a list of loving wishes for people I don't know very well and my loving wishes for my children and husband and grandchildren and beloveds are engraved on my heart, renewed by my every breath. My whole house is already filled with plants and seashells and found coral and dried flowers from my yard and rocks and driftwood and glass worn down by the sea.
Okay. Guess I'm pretty good. Maybe I'll write a poem tomorrow. Maybe I'll take special note of the sunset but I do that almost every night.
I shall probably make some Crabby Patties which Sponge Bob would certainly approve of.
And I shall probably be pretty quiet. I got my loud ya-ya's out last night, dancing in the hallway with my lover, telling death to fuck off. It was wonderful but now I'm listening to Norwegian hymns (I think) sung by the VocalEssence Ensemble. I have no idea what they're singing about but they are soft and they are singing sweetly. They are not telling any one or any thing to fuck off. At least, I don't think so.
I am grateful for all the different ways I can feel and all the different things I can do to express those feelings.
Not all of them. You can bet your red cowboy boots on that.
Soon it will be time to sleep.
Peace be unto you.