Sunday, July 12, 2015

Sunday Services Canceled Due To An Act Of God (HAHAHAHA!)

I am weary today. From sleep, I suppose. We both slept until almost 10:30 which is completely unheard of even for me and for Mr. Moon- unimaginable! And yet, we did and we must have needed it and Maurice slept right there with us, content to let the sun come up and the rooster crow, unheeded by us, the chickens perking away with their bawks and squawks, wondering if perhaps the humans had died in the night and if they would be trapped forever in the hen house. Maybe they thought a bear got us.

Maurice more than earned her keep last night. She slept with me through most of it and came up to me on the bed when I let her in the house and wanted to be stroked and scratched and I did and there is something so heavenly, so comforting, so soothing, as letting my fingers sink into that softness to find her skull, her jaw, to scratch a bit, to stroke lightly and then behind the ears, to feel her not-quite-purr but a sort of vibration, all the same. To fall asleep with my fingers still in that fur, or with her draped over my hip when has had all of the touch she wants.
It reminds me of being a child and sucking my thumb and fingering my so-soft blanket. None of my children sucked their thumbs or got too attached to any blanket or toy that they could not sleep without them but I certainly did. And strangely (and it's a little weird and scary) I have found myself lately craving the feel of something very soft as comfort. At least I have not taken to sucking my thumb again.
Is Maurice my blankie?

Well. She is a good one.

When she's in the mood.

And so we got up and let the chickens out and I made a big, real breakfast and lunch of eggs and grits and biscuits and sliced tomatoes. The kitchen may become done today as Mr. Moon is working on finishing up the cabinet and drawer and I can put things away and reclaim the floor space where his tools are, where the basket of things that go under the sink are, and get to my baking pans and my bowls once again. I am not complaining. I can't begin to tell you the joy I get from using that dishwasher. Is that silly? So be it. I love it and as I pull things out of it I hold them up and say, "Look how clean!" like a fifties housewife in ecstasy over the cleanliness of her husband's collars after using Whisk.

I had the most delightful conversation with an old, old friend on the phone last night. He's not old but our friendship is. Oh, we laughed and we laughed! We were tripping buddies, partners in crime, and oh the crimes we partnered in! It was so fun saying, "Do you remember...?" and it was so interesting, comparing our memories and neither one of us got upset when those memories did not exactly match but we just laughed more at the foibles of mind and memory. We are, and always have been, as different as night and day, this friend of mine, and our present lives could not be more dissimilar, but we will always love each other. Relationships like that are the most priceless thing there can be.

So. It is hot.

I love that it's predicted to be "cooler than yesterday."
Ah well, heat in Florida in summer. Why would I even remark on such a thing? And yet, I do. One must. If one climbs the same mountain every day, one is still allowed to talk about it if they want. That's just my opinion, of course.

And so I need to water plants and hang clothes on the line and that is all the outdoor activity I think this old gal is up to today. 
Hell, it'll be supper time before I know it. 

What am I talking about? I have no idea and thus, I'll be quiet now.

Love from the Church of the Batshit Crazy...Ms. Moon


  1. Gak, 98 degrees! It's 74F in my house right now and that's almost too much for this northerner (compared to your location, that is ... which seems so exotic to me). How do you ever get the energy to do ANYTHING in that heat? And the humidity is high too, right? I'm guessing one simply gets used to it, wherever one is, and life goes on. Glad that handsome devil got through his MRI all right, and hope all news is good, oh and please add my name to that list of yours. That man sounds like an absolute prince. Although I must say I was pleased to see that he Shh'd you and you got pissed off ... so it's not only here, then! We all do it! -Kate

  2. So glad you and the man slept in. You know, I'm so impressed with your man, letting you write about what's going on with him, because he knows that you process when you write, and make things less scary when you can let them out into the daylight, and he's so amazing that he knows that about you, and lets you be you. Hug him for me, okay?

  3. Stubblejumpin'gal- We have our moments...Even though yes, he is a prince.
    Anything under seventy degrees and we are chilly around here. I'd die if I lived up north in the winter.

    Angella- He knows the more apt he is to tolerate my crazy needs, the more I'm apt to tolerate his hunting. I think.
    I will definitely give him a hug for you.

  4. How delightful that you and Mr. Moon slept so late and that you got such comfort with Maurice. I like the idea of a soft blankey and can't think how that would be weird. Sucking the thumb, though -- uh, yes.

    I hope you have a wonderful day -- I'm getting ready for my last Hedgebrook Sunday brunch. The weather here is perfect after a rain -- neither hot nor cold. And there's always something comforting about weather talk -- whether it's listening to it, reading about it or talking about it.

  5. When you write about Maurice, it makes me miss my Kamir, even though he was absolutely nothing like Maurice. In fact, he was an asshole. He's been AWOL for three and a half weeks. I hated him yet a part of me misses him. Now that I've said that, he'll probably come back.

    It was 95F here the other day and I almost died because of course, we do NOT have a/c. We will be getting it before the leaves turn this year, or I'm moving us to the arctic circle until I'm through menopause.

    I'm craving fresh green beans.
    (Things you needed to know.)

  6. no sleeping in for us. not with a new puppy.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.