The kind that sucks. Not that any anxiety doesn't suck. Some sorts just suck more than others.
But. It's been a good day anyway. I kept it tamped down when the boys were here and I was easy-going and we had a really nice afternoon. Lily got here early and so we walked down to the post office and here's the requisite picture of the boys posing in front of the red door at the old train station which houses our PO.
I should go back and find all of these and make a collection.
After their mama left, we went out to explore the railroad tracks, to see what they've been doing back there.
See all those ties? Those are the ones which have been replaced. A few of them, at least.
Then I made the boys get on one of the logs of the part of the tree which fell a few years ago in the back yard.
And what came next.
Both boys were very loving today and we had good times on our adventures and I made them pancakes and bacon for their lunch. They filled up the ducks' little paddling pool and it was so sweet just to have them here. To see their beautiful little bodies, growing so fast, as they run across the yard, as Gibson dug in the driveway for treasures, as Owen pretended to ride his horse down the railroad tracks. I love pretending to be a waitress, serving them their pancakes, their juice in the pretty, sturdy glasses I got at the Goodwill because I knew they would like them.
"Enjoy your meals, sirs," I say, and they very solemnly answer, "Thank-you!" I love to cuddle with Gibson while he looks at silly videos on my phone. "You lay down with me?" he asks. "Yes," I say, and I do. "Are you going to give me a hug and a kiss before I leave?" asks Owen. And of course I do. He has to make one last run to the hen house to see if there are any more eggs before he gets in the car. We found two fine brown ones today and he asked if he could take them home.
He and his dad and Gibson and their Uncle Chris are going to have Super Dudes Night tonight. Darling Lenore will be there too but she is very much welcome to Super Dudes Night. They are going to grill steaks and enjoy all sorts of dudish behavior.
Those boys have such a good life. I'd add, "and they don't even know it," but I think they do. Somewhere in their hearts they know that this is the sort of life they're supposed to be having, just as when I was a child I knew that the sort of life I was having was not the sort of life I was supposed to be having.
And now it's Friday night and I'm waiting for Mr. Moon to get home. He put in a full day today. Four days past surgery and he's put in a full day. He's going to bring us home one of those Costco pizzas with all the mozzarella and basil and tomatoes and that will be our supper. And speaking of eating, here's what Chef Will's mama posted on Facebook that he made with six of the duck eggs tonight.
"Moon Farm deviled duck eggs with sorghum-and-black-pepper candied turkey bacon with hints of Malaysian curry powder and smoked paprika."
Note that he piped those yolks back in there.
Jeez. I've never piped deviled eggs in my life. My darling Lis wouldn't think about not piping but it just never occurs to me. This is why I call myself a good cook but would never dream of calling myself a chef.
And on a completely unrelated topic, a Facebook friend messaged me today to ask how I so consistently post on my blog and what do I get out of it?
I answered, "Because it is joy for me. And that answers both of your questions."
And it does. But.
It's so much more.
It's being able to say out loud, "I am anxious as hell today. I feel crazy." Or, "Here are my grandsons. Aren't they beautiful? I love them so much." Or, "This is what it's like to get older. Here is what is good about it. Here is what really, really bites the big one." Or even, "These are my chickens and my ducks and aren't they pretty?"
And of course to be able to tell the stories I know. Of births and of illnesses. Of joys and of deaths. Of the petty annoyances and the great good miracles and blessings. Of how these things affect us all. The stories of people I love who come together and fall in love. Of the way I, one human being, has experienced what life has given her, who constantly falls down but who gets up, every goddamned day. Who has a family who is like none other, as all families are, and who love each other with every fiber of our beings.
To be able to say, "Here is what the moon looks like from my little bit of earth tonight."
And to be able to ask, "And what does it look like from where you are?"
And to get answers.
Here is what the moon looks like from my little bit of earth tonight.
What does it look like from where you are?
Let's all sleep good and wake up in peace. Let's try really hard.