Sunday, May 24, 2015

The Age Of Miracles

I met May and Michael in Railroad Square which is a trendy area in Tallahassee which I never go to being beyond trendy myself, of course and so trendy in fact that no other trendiness can compare.
We went to a wonderful vintage place but the wonder was somewhat diminished by the lack of AC. There were fans everywhere but it is hot. And for some reason, I just am not dealing well with heat right now. But we had a good time and I bought a beautiful old mixing bowl and an ancient Fanny Farmer cookbook, circa 1936, and May got me a Catholic children's booklet entitled, "Mary My Mother," which cracks me up.

And in reading a bit of it, I am extremely grateful that I was not raised Catholic. I was born with enough guilt. Add in the amount the Church tries to shovel in on children and I would have become a nun who spent her life displaying stigmata, weeping tears of blood and whipping herself with a cat-o-nine-tails.

Well, if that isn't the essence of the joyful word of God, I don't even know what is.
Are they still trying to make little children believe this horseshit?

But it is true- Mary is May's mother and that's a fact, Jack. May gave me a card and in it she wrote such beautiful things that I can't even begin to process them. For her birthday. Her's.

I am so lucky in all ways but in the ways of family and love, I, like that other Mary, am Queen.

And so it's been a very nice day and an especially interesting one in the poultry department. I saw something this morning that I have never seen before in my life.
Mick tried to fuck the duck.
He did his little dance around her and got all fluffed up and tried to make a move on her and she looked at him like, "Who do you think you are?!" and he stopped in his tracks, his eyes still glazed over, but he backed off.
I swear to you, this happened.
Also, I believe that every hen AND the duck gave me an egg today. Eleven possible laying birds and eleven eggs. Even old Trixie and Mabel! Full-sized, even if a bit misshapen.

The two in the center, there. Bless their old hearts. 

And so this day has gone. The celebration of miracles, large and small. Mr. Moon has changed out the leaky faucet in the kitchen. We ate pancakes. We will eat some more of that delicious soup I made on Friday for our supper tonight. We split the first cherry tomato from the garden this morning- more flavor in that one little golden orb bite than in an entire store-bought tomato. My dreams have started trying to resolve themselves in small ways. I still dream of the houses and chaos but I am beginning to make progress in sorting, in tidying, in making things work, in finding beautiful things among the dross, rather than just complete trash. I find this interesting. And who knows what tonight will bring? 

Okay. Best picture from the vintage/thrift shop.

Although I am sure that Mr. Moon would love me in that, I did not buy it. I can't imagine why.
What gal wouldn't look fab in a nylon tank top imprinted with a buck posed before a full moon on it, sewed to a black net tutu bottom?

The world is a wild and wondrous place my friends.
Mr. Moon just informed me that FSU's baseball team won the ACLU or something. No, that's not correct. Well, it was important. I gave him a high five. That's the appropriate thing to do in that situation, right?

And now I'm going to go make him a peach cobbler.

I have a recipe.

Looks like someone tried it!

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Mm, peach cobbler. I make peach crumble - or 'Peach Brown Betty' as the Joy of Cooking calls it. Food of the gods.

    Catholicism is a horrible, destructive religion. I'm sure there are plenty of Catholics doing good in various places, and have been for many years, but I'm not sure that can make up for all the damage.

    Anyway, I'm glad your dreams are being more convivial. I hope they continue to behave xx

  2. The outfit with the buck in front of the moon and the tutu is so totally you with the moon for Ms, Moon, ya know Moon.... Get it. Oh damn, it would have been great and the Mr, Moon would have swooned!!!! Queen Mary. May is so cool.

  3. I would not be wanting to bite down on one of those optional peach pits in with the peaches. Just sayin'.

    Pretty sweet of May to give you a card on her birthday.

  4. Just think if you made the peach cobbler in that tank top.

  5. I think my grandmother had that exact same cookbook. I'm sure a lot of people did in that era!

    LOVE the deer dress. Thrift stores are so amazing, aren't they? When I was a reporter in New Jersey I did a monthly blog feature about items found at the local Goodwill. I always had a blast doing that!

  6. It's always fun making old recipes. Puzzling too, sometimes they just ask for a hot oven or something if the book is very old.

  7. My Mom's old Betty Crocker cookbook has old flour handprints on the page with the Snickerdoodles recipe. She gave it to me before she passed away, and it's one of my prized possessions. She used to make me peach cobbler for my birthday (my fave!), too. My birthday is in August... No A/C, either! She'd proudly put that scrumptiousness in front of me, the sweat just dripping off her face. Gawd I miss that woman!!

  8. I'm making a peach dewberry cobbler today too. made two more pies yesterday. and Mick certainly thinks a lot of himself if he thought the duck would stand for his shenanigans.

  9. I was raised catholic but it didn't really stick. I know my current Christian friends have issues with Catholicism because of the whole praying to Mary thing. Religion is so messed up.
    Today is my last day alone before I am tethered to my husband for three weeks. Three week, Mary,

  10. Hell yeah they still teach that stuff. At her first Communion just a couple of weeks ago, my daughter had to pray for all her sins and all the ways she did wrong. AT SEVEN!!! And as soon as we got out of that church I gave her a big talk about how she had nothing to be sorry about yet. They actually sang a song about all the ways in which they'd made Jesus sad. It's fucked up, but then I suppose it's even more fucked up that I let her go there.

    Oh, and I know you're the queen of love, which is why I keep coming back to the Church of Batshit Crazy where I learn the love and never have to apologise for what I am.

  11. Jo- I LOVE crumbles and Brown Betty's. I do!
    I seriously doubt that if balanced good against evil, the church would come out on the positive side. But I could be wrong.

    Joanne- He would have laughed himself silly! And I would have joined him!
    May is very, very cool.

    jenny_o- Yeah. I didn't put the pits in. But I did put some cherries in! Without pits.

    Denise- Right? What was I thinking not to do that?

    Steve Reed- That would pretty much be my dream job.

    Jenny Woolf- I know. They just assumed you knew what a hot oven was. And many probably still cooked with wood.

    Catrina- Isn't it wonderful how food and love become so entwined in our memories? What a sweet mama you had!

    Ellen Abbott- Well, now when I use the phrase, "Fuck a duck!" I absolutely will know what I am talking about.
    I love the mix of peaches and black-or dewberries.

    heartinhand- I believe if I were Catholic, worrying about praying to Mary would be the least of my concerns.
    As to being tethered to your husband for three weeks...oh dear. Oh dear.
    Good luck, my friend!

    Mwa- I adore you. Thank you for being part of this family here. Your daughter will probably survive. It'll all just make her more interesting. And teach her not to always trust authority.

  12. I remember the hard sauce with blackberry cobbler that my grandmother made. Delicious.


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