Sunday, January 31, 2016

A Love Story, Retold Again

When I first met Mr. Moon in 1983, I couldn't imagine even dating him. We were as different as cheese and chalk. He was what I called a "jock" and I was what I still call a "hippy." He was 6'10" and I was 5'4". I loved to read then as much as I do now and reading was not on his agenda. He hunted; I was the next best thing to a vegetarian. He was extremely close to his loving family. I kept my distance from my dysfunctional family and couldn't understand anyone loving his parents so much. He was eternally cheerful, happy, and optimistic and I was struggling out of the second or third clinical depression of my life.
He and I were both recently divorced but he had a dog and a truck and I had two kids and a house and was in nursing school. I think he'd been loving his single-man status and me? Well, honey, I had kissed so many toads.
Some of them admittedly darling toads, some even beautiful, but still- toads.

And yet- we did date, or rather, we met and he wooed me and the next thing I knew, he was living with me and had built a fence around my back yard to keep his dog in.
I knew. I knew in my heart that he was the mythical good man and that he would treat me so well and my children too and so I accepted him into my life and he took on responsibility like nobody's business and next thing I knew, I was truly in love with him and he had to woo my women friends and I had to meet his family and they took me in as if I was their own. My kids, too, whom they embraced as sweetly and profoundly as if they'd been blood.
And my women friends, they too, fell in love with him eventually, over time.

We married a year later and a year after that we had our first child together and that was Lily and then three and a half years later we had Jessie and we were all a family and he'd started a business with his father's hands-on help and we worked so hard, keeping it all together and raising this family and he supported us and kept us going and I began to know what love really is.
We went through a lot together in those early years. Way too much, really. The business, the babies, the healing I've had to so painfully do from childhood trauma, the deaths of his parents, the death of one of those women friends of mine he'd had to woo. We were with her when she died and the day she died, she, for some reason known only to her, had to move house and when her bed was set up in her new place, she asked my husband to hold her like a baby, to carry her to the car to take her there, and he did and he carried her in his arms and set her in her bed and she died a few hours later and we were right there with two other friends, holding her and stroking her and it was one of the most profound experiences I've ever had in my life.

That's just a little bit of the things we've gone through together. We've raised all these children, we've danced at their weddings, we've been at the births of their children. We've moved and moved again. He's started more businesses and is still working hard and we are as involved in the lives of our children as ever.

And sometimes (today) I look at him and hold him and am held by him and I think of what I might have passed up because he seemed so very different and not at all like someone I'd ever imagined being married to.
And I cry a little at the wonder of the gift of him in my life.
He is so beautiful to me, this man.
His kindness, his strength, his heart are huge.

We're still chalk and cheese in so many ways. We always will be.
So what?
Frankly, I don't want to be married to someone who is exactly like me. Where's the fun in that? It still makes me laugh to see my hand in his giant one. To see my shoes lined up next to his. To know that while I still love to read, he still loves to do. 
And in the ways that really matter- in values, in heart, in love of home and family, we are so very much alike.

All right. I'm going to go make that man's supper now.
I am and always will be stupefied and astonished at how lucky I am.
And he still makes me laugh. Which may be the best thing of all.

One time, when things grew so very difficult between us, I told him that of all the women in the world who could have loved him and would have loved him, no one could love him for being exactly who he is the way I could.
I still think that is true. And I think he feels that way about me.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Sort Of Grace

You know- I'm going to be honest with you here- I have said to Jessie more than once, "If Dad had only paid a roofer to do this job, this would have all been done so long ago."
And it would have. My yard wouldn't be filled with tools and roofing materials and scraps of metal and Vergil could have been working on his own projects and my man might not be as wiped-out exhausted as he is every night that he's spent the day working on this project.
What are we? Pioneers? The Amish?

But this morning, as I faced another kitchen full of dishes to be washed after the working-man breakfast, it occurred to me that I have this all wrong. It's not just a matter of saving money, although that part is important. It's also a matter of family. And of time spent with family. Of sitting across the table from August being held by one of his parents. Of laughing over meals, of having my daughter and her baby in my house, snuggling under the covers with Maurice watching over protectively.

It's having a sweet, tipsy talk with my daughter before bed. It's the men learning together as they work.
What else would I rather be doing than making working-man breakfasts and dinners? Than having my grandson close at hand for cuddles and smiles? Than sharing jokes and memories and anxieties and joys with Jessie?

We live in a funny world where we mostly do pay other people to do the hard jobs that we don't have time for. That we don't know how to do. Everything from growing and cooking our food to putting roofs on our houses. And so many of us are certainly are not suited to those sorts of work and so we do other kinds of work to pay those who are so that their families can be supported.

It's really all about family, isn't it? The very, very best thing about this roof situation is the way that Vergil has cheerfully given up so much of his own time to help us with this. He has given up time and he has given us use of his fine engineering brain and his muscles and his experience to work with my husband who grew up doing things like this with his own father.

There is a certain satisfaction in all of it it we would never have gotten if we'd hired roofers. I'm not saying that when it comes time to do the steep part of the roof that I will not be advising that we do just that. But for now, for this part, despite how long it's taken, it's been good.

Well, that's all I have to say today and besides that, this other cat, Jack, doesn't want me to type any more and is putting his big furry purring body between me and the keyboard.

And look who's up.

Time for more play.
 Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Night-Night Soon For Mermer

We're all sort of tired here tonight. The men because they worked on the roof all day and the mama and the MerMer because we just are.
I still don't know how I spell MerMer. Is it that way or Mermer or Mer Mer or what?
I think I like Mermer. Henceforth, this is how I shall spell it.
Until I forget and spell it differently.

Jessie and I ended up going into Tallahassee because the men needed a drill battery at their house. So we dropped by there and then we met Hank and Taylor for lunch. Yeah. We're lunch crazy. But it was such a nice day and we ate outside on the deck of a Mexican restaurant and even Taylor held August.
I say "even" because Taylor is wary of babies. She says she doesn't like them but look at this.

And August just relaxed on her shoulder and held on to her and drooled on her jacket and was as happy as he could be. I'm pretty sure I even saw her kiss the boy. Once. Or twice. 

So it was a good time and now we're home and supper is cooking and everyone's relaxing. August learned to make raspberry sounds with his mouth today and he is enchanted with his trick. He also learned to play the caterpillar. 

As you can see. He is one busy guy, that August.

Hopefully, he'll sleep good for his mama and daddy tonight. I know that I will sleep well, not having one ear awake to listen for Gibson, looking for his Mermer in the night.

You do too, dear friends. You sleep well too.

Love...Ms. Moon

Busy As Little Bees

The Casa Luna Inn, Bed and Breakfast, is open for business! The boys are still here and Jessie, Vergil, and August have arrived.
"The maid hasn't cleaned the room," I told Jessie.
"What?!" she said. "What a bad maid!"
The Weatherfords are spending the night tonight so that the men can work their asses off all day and into the night and then get up in the morning and get back to it.
It is all sort of a joyful chaos. Waffles, pancakes, and bacon have been made and eaten and Jessie cleaned up the kitchen for me. Laundry has been going all morning. Monopoly is being played (Owen's rules) and the men are handling great sheets and pieces of metal roofing. August is hanging out on his mama's lap. Owen is trying to show Gibson how to count the spaces on the game.


And since I started writing this, Lily and Jason and Magnolia have come  and retrieved the boys which required more chaos and baby holding and baby feeding and packing up and buckling up and kissing good-bye and August is down for a little nap and Jessie is hanging diapers on the line.
A local church is selling fried fish dinners down at the corner and it's a beautiful day and Greta is here too and here we are, chickens, cats, people, blue skies, roof drilling, all of it, all of it.

Happy Saturday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. August obviously loves his new book and Gibson spent, uh, some time in his own bed. I learned something about myself last night- I am simply incapable of telling a child that he or she can not get in my bed with me in the middle of the night.
So it goes, and so it ever was.

Friday, January 29, 2016

Things Going On In Lloyd This Evening

Pretty darn sweet. 

The boys are here for the night and Lily is home now with her darling Magnolia. Jessie and Vergil are coming over tomorrow with August so the men can work on the roof again. There will most definitely be pancakes tomorrow morning and bacon, of course. My next door neighbor dropped by with her new dog and we discussed Jack, whom she is also feeding. 
"Where did he come from?" we ask each other and then we shrug. Her newest pet is a giant yellow lab who was so affectionate towards the boys that Owen named him "Licky."

Bread is rising, the fire is ready to be lit to cook the traditional Steak-Monster Steaks. All of the ingredients for purple cows are in the house. 
Life in Lloyd is good tonight. 
Now if Gibson will only stay in his bed...

Love...Ms. Moon

Thank You

Some days are just harder than others, even if you got plenty of sleep and the day is as crystal clear and fine as any you've ever seen in your life.

Even when the camellias are blooming as pretty and pink as baby shower bonbons. Even when the stray cat wants to weave himself in and out of your feet in soft-fur figure eights. Even when the Rolling Stones are in rehearsal in South America for their upcoming tour. Even when you turn on the tap and water comes out, either hot or cold, as you choose, and it all drains down as it should. 

Just. Hard.

I made myself go out and walk and I'm not going to lie to you- it wasn't fun and it wasn't easy. I felt like just lying down on the path, waiting for whatever animal had left the slightly scary, large, deep prints in the sand to come and find me and eat me up. 
Of course, that's drama-queeny and silly and so I went on with it but still- hard. 
I don't know why this happens any more than I know why the gift of good days occurs. It just does. 

But I will tell you something- no matter what kind of a day it is, sometimes something shows up to tell you it is not all for naught. 

And also, that there are the days in which gifts are received which have been so sweetly sent that you cannot ignore them and the heart sparks a little brighter and you shake off your drama-queeny ways and get on with your insanely wonderful life. 

Thank you, Joanne. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Turns out that my septic tank is about five feet from my back porch steps.

Who knew?
Not me.
Anyway, all is well and properly taken care of and the stench is dissipating as we speak. Those guys who did the job are prodamnfessionals. And very pleasant men.

You know what's not pleasant? Luna. Luna the ancient cat is not pleasant and she is driving me crazy with this wanting to be on my arm while I type which is bad enough but then she shakes her head and her drool (she's always been a horrible drooler) goes everywhere, including into and onto my laptop as well as onto my personal body.
I'm sorry. My patience with her is coming to a quick end.
Now if only she would.
Sorry if that offends you but let's just say the Rainbow Bridge can't pop up soon enough for her to scamper on across to suit me.
I think she'd be pretty happy about that too. She doesn't even meow anymore. She squeaks like an aging rodent.
At least she hasn't peed in the house again recently.

The high point of my day, besides getting the septic tank pumped in a timely manner, was buying a new book for August at the library where they sell a few books for cheap.
As I was stirring the rice for our supper, Mr. Moon said, "I've almost finished my book."

The fun just literally never ends around here.

Love...Ms. Moon

Shit Happens

Somewhere in this backyard there is a septic tank lying beneath the dirt.
We assume.
We've lived here for twelve years and never had reason to know where the exact location is and the guy who lived here before us told us that he didn't know either.
Which means that it hasn't been pumped out in almost twenty years.
We have become, shall we say? sanguine about the whole deal. Flush the toilet, take a shower, wash the clothes, all drained where it should into the mysterious magical septic tank.
Until last night. The dishwasher was running and I had my shower on but had not stepped into it yet, waiting for the water to become hot (the distance between the hot water heater and my bathroom is approximately a quarter of a mile, as the crow flies) when I noticed that the toilet was acting as if it were possessed. It began to bubble, water coming up from where it was supposed to only go down, as if a monster of some sort was belching out great blasts of gas.
I notified my husband who said, "There must be a blockage in the drain in there," but who changed his diagnosis when the same thing happened in the bathroom off the kitchen where he takes his shower. The toilet in there became possessed as well.
"I guess we have to get the septic tank pumped," he said, as he got into bed.

And so it goes. A guy is coming over at four to check out the situation. I can still do laundry and flush the toilet, etc. but not everything at once and quite frankly, it would be awesome to get the problem taken care of before that monster becomes truly enraged and its belches become huger and all of the toilets and all of the drains run backwards, vomiting up what we have been so casually flushing and draining down.

And in somewhat related news, I truly believe that Donald Trump is weary of running for president and has done everything in his power to dissuade voters from supporting him which has only made him more popular which says things about the American voter that are as filthy and unpleasant to contemplate as a septic tank which needs pumping out and that his refusal to participate in this next debate is one last-ditch effort to get himself out of the race without actually quitting. This way he can blame the media for everything. I mean really- would Donald Trump enjoy living in the White House and having to actually attend to presidential duties 24 hours a day for four years? I don't think so.
Of course, I could be wrong. I frequently am. He may actually believe that because he is The Donald and has The Donald Super Powers, he can run the country with one hand tied behind his back and the other hand holding a golf club, a martini glass, and a woman's breast.

So it goes. A hen has just laid an egg. I need to go to the store. And the library. It's gray and supposed to rain and it's getting cold again. Finches of one sort or another are flocking the feeder and the chickens are pecking beneath it, scratching up the seeds that the birds knock to the ground. Chi-Chi and Cha-Cha have eaten all of the cat food on the porch and last night, Maurice spent hours hunting and hopefully eating a mouse in the bedroom.
I should probably go check that situation out. As with septic tanks and certain politicians, dead animals are best dealt with before they start to stink.

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Gibson, Mostly

I had such a good time with my Gibson today. Rarely in his life have I been able to spend time just with him and so it is a joy when I do get that time. He is a remarkable child and because he is a middle child, I think we take his remarkableness for granted sometimes. When the first child takes the first step or says the first word or makes the first joke, it is a moment of great importance. We try, of course, to give each and every child's first accomplishments the same attention but life is funny and we don't always.
But Gibson. Oh my.
The other day when we were in the Indian restaurant, I bent to pick up a piece of cantaloupe he'd dropped and he said, "No, Mer. Look. I holding it down!"
And he had his fork poised just so over the bit of fruit so that the shadow cast by the fork perfectly covered the cantaloupe and yes, he was holding it down with the fork shadow.
I am not sure I've ever met a child who was so good at playing and pretending by himself as this boy is. I've talked about this before- how he can take almost anything and entertain himself for great lengths of time, making up little scenarios with whatever he has to hand, providing dialogue and action.

Here he is using the Monopoly pieces to do just that. A little while later he added the houses and hotels and he played and played until finally he said, "That's enough."
And it was and we went out to swing. 
He is very social too. He loves to play what we call The Matching Game with me and he is generous with his praise and seems to enjoy it as much when I make a match as when he does. My across-the-street-neighbor came over for a little while when we were on the side porch swing and he was completely comfortable talking to her and telling her things. When she went to leave, he held his arms out to her and hugged her tightly. He is a charming boy. 
He wanted to take a bath and so I drew him one, adding some bubbling bath salts with lavender. He enjoyed that so much. 

When he was ready to get out, I used the hand shower to rinse the bubbles off of him and he loved it. I let the warm water run down his back and he kept saying, "That hits the spot!"
He gave me a bit of a make-over and then we went outside and when a train came, he wanted to come in because even though we both know that his fear of the train is highly exaggerated, he is still a bit worried about it and it IS loud and it IS close so I said, "No, let's watch it!" and we did. We sat on a chair and I held him and we had so much fun, watching the cars go by, those loud thundering iron cars, each one making its own different sound as it passes. 
When we did come in, he wanted to snuggle and this is another very fine thing about Gibson. He's about the snuggliest, cuddliest child you will ever meet. We got on my bed and pulled up the comforter around us and he molded himself to my body and we pulled the cover over our head so that it was dark and scary and wonderful and we pretended to sleep and we pretended to wake up and we freed our heads and then we did it all again. He wanted to watch Toy Story from my bed and he wanted me to watch it with him and so that's what we did but when his mama and his sister and his brother showed up he wanted us to hide under the cover and we did that too, giggling a bit as we held still, and I swear, I felt a little of that child-like delight in waiting to be discovered. 
And then it all changed after Owen found us and we hugged and kissed the mama, the brother, and then Maggie. 

I changed her on my bed and she peed before I had the new diaper on her and she peed so much that my sheets are in the dryer now and we all laughed at how much she was able to pee, this tiny girl, this wisp of a child and even her booties got soaked. 
Boppy came home and there were more hugs and more kisses and more cuddles and there was nursing and Magnolia spent a good five minutes looking around and letting us kiss her. Then she got the hiccups which distressed her and so there was more nursing. 

Such a good day. The weather was positively spring-like, warm and with those soft breezes that are both cool and balmy at the same time and I found a trillium, already coming up in the bed beneath the front-yard oak. I made a cheat-chili with canned beans and canned tomatoes and ground venison and Mr. Moon is back outside, working on a car and I'm going to make him the salad he loves with greens from the garden and the mandarin oranges that come from a can and sunflower seeds and cornbread to go with it all. I promised the boys they can spend the night on Friday. They haven't been getting enough time at Mer and Bop's lately and it's time. 

And here's a picture that Jessie sent me today of my other beloved grandson.

One day, soon enough, he will be old enough to spend the night at Mer's. Well, eventually. He's not yet even had a bottle so it will be awhile unless his mama spends the night with him. 
But if I know anything about time, it is that it flies by too quickly, too quickly by far, and that day will be here before I know it. 

But this day- this day I mostly spent with Gibson- is now right here, in this magical place we call the internet, and I can come back anytime that I want and remember it all. The bath, the games, the pirate pretend we played on the swing, the cuddles, the snuggles, the kisses. Like the fork shadow, I have held it down. 

It all just hit the spot, y'all. It really did. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Small And Vast Wonders

I went to pluck this camellia this morning but noticed a bee was having her with it so I decided to take a picture instead. And then I realized that not just one bee, but three, were in its delicate depths.
The bees are swarming this variety but none other.
They are obviously not only beautiful to me.

I woke up this morning feeling as if perhaps anxiety had come by in the night, so stealthily, as it does, and tenderly licked my face. It is hard to explain this. But it is real. It is not bad and I took a quick but hard walk, fast, fast, and Gibson is coming over soon.

I swear. Maurice is playing with the chickens. I don't think that Mick understands this concept but I am quite certain that Maurice most definitely does. She pretend-stalks them but instead of leaping on them, she runs with them, her bell tinkling as she goes. The chickens don't seem perturbed in the least. They are used to her orange cat ways.

It was supposed to rain this morning, according to last night's weather widget on my phone. Instead, it is warm and beautiful. I wonder if bees make love to flowers on rainy days. I also wonder how much honey is in that big oak where the huge branch split off years ago. I know they have made a home in there. I see them swarm it.

There is so very much I do not know or understand. Some times this troubles me. Other times, it merely amuses and amazes me.
It is, somehow, reassuring. Boredom is never an option. My place here on earth is so minute.

As Shakespeare said so long ago, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio/Then are dreamt of in your philosophy."


Love...Ms. Moon

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

She IS Pretty Super

It's been a day of cutting and trimming and pulling of weeds and dead vines and eating leftover meatloaf.
Could it get any more boring?
Not much.

So here's a picture I stole off of Facebook.

Love...Ms. Moon

Real Housewife Of Lloyd: How It's Done

Well, thank you dear baby Jesus, I took a walk this morning. Been gone for a week from the trail and wouldn't you know? Some fucking asshole has dumped more trash. I've reported this stuff to the Jefferson Co. sheriff but of course that's a pretty low-priority situation.

Anyway, I'm glad I walked. It satisfies my need to suffer, as I have so often said before. I think I will put on my overalls and go clean out the hen house. Those gals are pooping up a storm these days. I have no idea what's going on there but maybe it's simply that the longer nights call for longer roosting times which means more poop. Mr. Moon is working on things at home today and that always makes me feel as if I am being spied on. He'll know what it is that I actually do around here which is not much. So after the hen house is all spick'n'span I think I'll get the Rubbermaid cart and my clippers and clean up dead stuff in the yard. That'll show him!
Maybe after that I'll spray a little Fabuloso around to make him think I actually cleaned something.

Nah. Not really.

Oh boy. He's coming in from the garage. I better get off my ass.

I suppose I can rule out a nap today too.


Oh wait. I can always talk him into taking one with me. I'll ponder that as I scrape chicken shit out of the nests.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, January 25, 2016

Luckiest Woman In The World, Part Four Thousand

The day before Magnolia June was born, Lily and Jessie and Gibson and August and I ate lunch at a newish Indian buffet in the same strip mall where Japanica lives. It was so good that we've been back (some of us, at least) three times. Today my was my second time and it was so good that I just kept saying, "This is the best thing I've ever eaten," which may or may not be true but it was mighty fine. For those of you who live in Tallahassee, it's the Persis Grill in the old Publix shopping center on Mahan, just east of Capital Circle. We've only gone at lunch for the buffet and everything I've had there has been delicious. We're somewhat addicted, I believe.
And the people who work there are very sweet and very attentive and it feels so comfortable and the music makes us want to dance. Which some of us do.

Gibson dancing on his Auntie May's knees. 

August relaxing on his Uncle Hank.


I love going to lunch with all of my babies. Well, poor Owen misses most of them now because for some reason he has to attend school. There's just something magical and so wonderfully human about everyone sitting around a table, passing babies around, sharing bites, catching up on everyone's life. And I'd gladly have them all out here once a week but lunch just seems so easy and for some reason, my kids think that Lloyd is halfway to Jacksonville. And besides- this way I don't have to cook or clean up. It's all just pure joy and I'm so grateful we can do this. Lives get so busy and yes, we can all keep in touch via social media and telephones and texting but there is just nothing like us all being together, close enough to hug, to kiss, to share gossip and plans and jokes and dreams, mint chutney and tamarind sauce.
Please pass the water, please pass the raita, please pass the baby.

Thank you.

Here's your lagniappe for the day. Or dessert. Whichever. Both.

Love...Ms. Moon

All Of This

Chickens and cats and shadows and light and rivers and ribbons and splashes of light and ponds and puddles and pools of light and hen songs as they scratch in rusty leaves for tender shoots and delicious bugs and tinkle bell of cat at she runs to sit in beams of light, her orange fur magnificent in it and she knows it and it feels good too.

A Monday morning and here we are and another day on this planet of light and dark, of soil and water, of green and blue and all of the colors we can see and all of the colors we can't and the chit-chit-chit of the cardinal at the feeder, the sweet mockingbird song, the highway song of trucks passing like a different sort of river, the all of it, sometimes too much to bear, almost, and I am off to see grandchildren and children on this sweet cold day.

May you be well.

Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, January 24, 2016


I saw one of those incredibly annoying and ignorant things on Facebook the other day about choosing to be happy. It was a picture of two people on a train. One was sitting by a window which gave him a view of fabulous scenery while the other was sitting on the opposite side of the aisle which gave nothing but a view of a steep rock mountain wall, inches from his face. And of course the guy by the scenery window was all happy and bluebirdy groovy and the guy by the rock wall was not happy and it was clear that they had each been free to pick which side of the train to sit on and thus, it is JUST THAT EASY to choose to be happy.
Hey freak! Just choose the seat by the window with the good scenery and open your eyes! Right?

You know what's strange? On my bad days, I almost agree with that. I already feel so guilty and down on myself that I can well believe that it's nobody's fault but my own that I am depressed or anxious. That if I could just pull my spirits up by their metaphorical bootstraps, I, too, could be as happy and un-depressed and un-anxious as anyone on this planet. Because honestly- what do I have to be depressed or anxious about?
Very little.

But then I have a good day and I realize that's a bunch of fucking bullshit. A good day where I do absolutely nothing different than any other day and yet, it all seems absolutely lovely to me. Not lovely in a manic way. I don't want to go buy ten pairs of shoes or stay up for days. The bed looks as good to me as it does any other day. I am looking at the same things. Doing the same chores. Walking the same floors. And I swear to you, my eyes are always open to the goodness, the beauty.
The difference is- some days I can see it but none of it brings me any pleasure, while other days, there is pleasure to be found in all of it.

Does that make sense?

Well, here are a few of the things which have I have seen today that have been good to my eyes, my heart, my spirits. The things that brought me pleasure.

These beautiful chickens. They are beloved to me. I swear they are. Even on my worst days they bring me peace and contentment as they go about their day. On my good days, they bring me joy. Look at the way Mick stands tall among his hens, keeping watch.

Blue skies and my husband and Vergil, working so hard to help this house I adore stay alive and well. They work for twelve hours at a time with one break for breakfast and one tiny break in the afternoon to eat a muffin. Yes. A muffin.

This silly cat who, on her best nights, only bites me a little bit.

Garden greens and tomatoes and sweet onions, cooking on my stove.

There's a venison meatloaf and sweet potatoes baking. I feel very Florida in our menu tonight and am quite certain that over the many years this house has been inhabited, that these same foods have been cooked and eaten so many times before. The men have finally finished for today and Vergil is on his way home to his sweet wife and darling baby. I got a lot of things done today around here but nothing special. The usual stuff involving laundry and chicken tending and sweeping and trash-taking.
And yet, I have been sitting on the side of the train where the scenery is breath-taking. And all the while, knowing without doubt that I could just as easily be sitting on the side where there is nothing to see but hard flat gray stone.
I didn't choose this seat anymore than I would ever choose to sit on the other side of the train.
I just woke up and here I was.

And what a pleasure and a joy it is.

No one chooses depression or anxiety and if someone tells you that you can, walk away. I don't care if it's your mama, your priest, your therapist, Rumi, or the Dalai Lama. Yes. There are things we can do to make ourselves feel better but simply choosing to is not one of them.

That's my tip for today.

All Love...Ms. Moon

Being. Just Being.

I am in another unaccountably good mood today and the sun is shining and the men are working but they took a break to eat some pancakes and sausage.

Here's what's happening on my back porch today.

The glossy magnolia leaves look especially green against the deep blue sky, I feel good in body and spirit, it is a Sunday in which despair has forgotten to drop by, and for this moment in time, I am content and at peace with all that is around me. 

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Just A Darn Fun Day

Golly, y'all. I had another completely good mood day.
I felt so guilty, leaving Vergil and my husband up on the roof without me making the big working man breakfast I always make them, just tripping off in the space car to go have fun with daughters and grandbabies.
But for some reason I shed the guilt and had the best time. We all met at Jessie's and this immediately happened.

And then this happened.

And then we all went to an ooh-bip-potato chip fancy lunch and the girls all had champagne and then we started shopping and had such adventures including meeting a woman who ran a shop who made us all laugh so much that I asked her if I could come and work with her.
"Sure!" she said. "We start drinking at four." The perfect job! 
The phone rang and she picked it up and listened for a second and then she said, "No, we don't do proms!" and hung the phone up. 
There were two dogs in the shop, one of whom was fascinated by the babies and the shop lady couldn't quit talking about August and how cool he was and handsome and oh, it was such great fun. I bought a dress and a Johnny Was shirt although nobody bought anything else. 
"You girls come back soon!" she said, after we all trooped out. 
"We will!" we said. 

We hit a few other shops and found nothing bridal that May adored and nothing bridesmaidy that worked for Lily and Jessie but damn, we had fun. 

My favorite line of the day came when Lily was talking on the phone to Jason.
"No, we haven't bought any dresses. We've been to two places and they sold a bunch of old-lady stuff. Mom bought some things."
She didn't mean it like THAT but it came out like THAT and it was hysterical. 

We had so many good laughs and so many good baby cuddles and there's no one in the world I'd rather hang out with than my own kids which is a pure and true blessing. 

And now Jessie and August are here at our house and the men have come down off the roof and I'm making a big old chicken pot pie and life is good. 

We'll find the perfect dresses eventually. One hopes. And that will require more shopping. 
Oh! The agony! 

Hope all is well with you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thank God For Babies

It's cold, it's gray. The men are working on the roof. It practically took a crane and a heavy machinery machine to get me out of the bed this morning.
And now I need to take a shower and go pick up Lily and get to town because we're going bridal shopping.
Not me. I'll be holding babies.
Which is a cheering thought.
And the sun is supposed to come out.
Let us hope it does.

Friday, January 22, 2016


Yes, I am here! All is well in Lloydville. I went to Magnolia's appointment for her two-week well baby check with her mama and her brother today. The appointment was at 9:15 and we had to drop Owen off at school before that happened. I had told Lily that I might go with her, seeing as how the hour was so unreasonable and yet, also knowing that this would be her first day to have to get Owen to school on her own and deal with the other two children. I went through quite a bit of angst about it last night, in fact, saying things to Mr. Moon like, "She can do it by herself. She is a grown woman and a great mother." Etc.
And he kept saying, "Yes, yes. She can do it without you. There is no reason for you to go." This from the man who had taken Owen to school himself that very morning.
Anyway, when I woke up a little before six this morning and heard rain literally thundering down onto the roof, I determined that I would NOT go but of course I ended up going because I have to work these things out in my head. Is it a message to my daughters if I help them with things like this that I do not think they are capable of doing them on their own?
God. I hope not because in my heart of hearts I know that they are more than capable. Lily's ability to handle all three of her children at once astounds me and of course August is like a new limb of Jessie's which she has known all of her life would show up and she knows perfectly well how to attend.
Is it that I had so very little help when my children were babies and I know how hard it can be to do the simplest things like go to the grocery store with them and take them to doctors' appointments?
Is it guilt that I need to do the very best for them that a mother can do?

I have no idea but there was no way I was going to let Lily make that trip to town with Maggie possibly crying in the back seat and Gibson possibly fussing and in all that rain! And so I crossed the ponds in the yard and drove to Lily's and we took Owen to school. He always sits beside his baby sister in the back seat and gives her the pacifier if she wants it and does a very mature job of calming her if she needs it. I am most proud of that boy. I took his place after we dropped him off and we drove to town with Gibson saying, "Hurry, Mama!"
He loves the doctors' office (same doctor as the one Jessie takes August to) because there are books and toys and a playhouse, right in the waiting room! He sees it as a playground to enjoy.

He told me to knock on the door and ask if I could wash my hands. There is a play sink in the play kitchen in the play house. So I followed his instructions.
"Hello! I need to wash my hands," I said.
"You've come to the right place!" he said joyfully, flinging open the door.
Unfortunately, it was a bit small for me to enter to wash my hands so I sat back down to read the newspaper while Lily and Magnolia were back in the exam room. Before too long, the waiting room was filled with sick people of all ages. Gibson immediately made friends with a boy who joined him in the playhouse. I heard him say, "I'll ask my Mer," and then he came to the door, peeked out and said, "How old am I?"
"Three," I told him.
"Three," he announced to the boy.
The boy looked a bit peaked so I asked his father if he was actually sick.
"Yes," he said. "But nothing too serious."
"Could it be Strep?" I asked, knowing that it is going around with ferocity. My friend Kati recently got it and referred to it as a strepodemic.
"It could be," the father admitted and then he called his son to come back and sit with him and Gibson was sorely sad.
And it was not even the father at fault. As much as I love this doctor's office with its vastly differing cliental, they need a well-room for children. I should have just stayed with Gibson at the house but hindsight, as they say...
After the appointment (and Maggie is fine), we met Jessie at the mall which was bizarre but there is a Starbucks right by the kids' play area and so we all had our caffeine and watched Gibson play with the other children, some of whom probably are also sick, smearing their viral-and-bacteria-laden secretions on all of the play things but what are you going to do?

August is doing well, by the way, and feeling fine again.

After awhile, Jason met us there too. He had gotten sent home from work because he has had too many hours this week and I ended up taking his car back to their house to get my car because they wanted to go have lunch and I just wanted to come home.
Which I did. And then took a marvelous nap.

And so that's what I've been doing. More of the same-same, and glad to be doing it, despite my ever-present angst. Tomorrow we are going to go look for May a wedding dress and Lily and Jessie bridesmaid dresses. Mr. Moon and Vergil are going to start putting the metal back on the roof over the work they've done on it.

There is so much more I could discuss here including Sarah Palin and the speech she made the other night, the new theory I read about why so many Americans are supporting Donald Trump (he's the daddy they all want- "Because I said so. Shut up and go to bed."), the delicious curry and naan bread I made last night, the new LED light fixture my husband installed above the sink last night which is so bright that I've had to hang a bit of a curtain to diffuse it,

the way the new leaves of the begonia in the mudroom jungle look when the afternoon sun pours in, 

and how I hope that all of you affected by this huge snowstorm on the east coast are safe and cozy and that your power does not go out but that is enough and martinis are being involved and I need to go make a salad and cook potatoes.

Happy Friday to you all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, January 21, 2016


It is gray and chilly here today and supposed to be begin raining soon. A perfect day to keep the vow I made last night about making today a relaxing day in which I stay in Lloyd, doing whatever the hell it is I want to do.

Mick runs toward the hen house, doing his job as escort service, his feathery butt wobbling as he goes. Jack has come for a bit of brunch and is licking himself now with fierce determination. I've gotten this picture from Jessie which has in it more color than the entire landscape of my world today.

I found that old Fisher Price rolly ball at a thrift store before he was born and brought it home and washed it up and he loves it. We had such a good time eating dinner with his mama and his daddy and our beloved Liz Sparks last night. We all held and loved on that boy as we ate delicious food and laughed and laughed. 

He even took a little tiny pre-night-night nap. Look at those lips.

It was a lovely evening and today is a fine day in its damp grayness, its chill. 
I might see if I can find a good movie to watch, sitting on the couch with knitting. Or I might read a book on the love couch. 
It is a day to let the world take care of itself without my intrusion, trying to remember that I do not have to spend every waking moment in busyness and motion in order to pay my dues as a human being. 

This is my plan. We shall see how it goes. 

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Busy-ness And Circumcision Information

Well, I am alive, no worries there. It's just been a very busy day and it's not over yet.
August has what looks to be some minor infection in the pee-pee area and I went with Jessie to to the doctor's today to get him checked out. He's not running a fever and but he's been a little fussy and now he's on a sulfa drug and that's the first thing he's tasted in his entire life except for his mama's milk and HE DID NOT LIKE IT! He fussed and choked and tried to spit it out.
Poor boy.
But the entire office was charmed by him and he got compliments out the wazoo on his smile, his big brown eyes and his obviously superior intelligence.
I got teared up, talking to the wonderful nurse practitioner who took care of August as she explained to me that she'd like to have me as her patient but that no, the office still isn't taking adult new patients and probably won't be as they are trying to ensure the doctor's longevity by lightening his work load and I can see that. He's pretty precious- the same doctor who drove out to Lily's house on a Saturday morning to do Magnolia's newborn exam. I mean, you can't just find a doctor like that every day.
After that, there was a lot of other stuff involving Mr. Moon, a lunch, a drive out to the Tallahassee Auto Auction, and a trip to the library. And also, snapping this picture at the corner of the busiest intersection in Tallahassee.

I know that circumcision can cause a lot of problems, including DEATH and that it's very painful for the infant on whom it's performed but I didn't know about the brain damage. 
Discuss among yourselves if you wish. 

Owen got his cast today and I hear it was difficult for him when they unwrapped his bandages and had to clean the area but the good news is that all is healing 100% well. 
And here's a picture I stole off of FB.

SUCH a good and helpful big brother. I always wished I'd had a big brother and although it was not to be, watching Owen with his little sister more than makes up for that. 

Sweetness abounds. 

So does the number of cats on my back porch which now smells like cat piss (LUNA!) and no, my good mood from yesterday did not spill over onto today. I am not in a terrible bad mood but just feel tears prickling my eyes repeatedly for no apparent reason and last night I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed and dreamed and it wasn't a particularly bad dream, except for a few parts of it, and then, in the dream, I realized it had all been a movie I'd been acting in and I was perturbed because the director had not given me one bit of direction throughout the entire thing. 

Aw well. We're going to Jessie and Vergil's for supper tonight and I am looking forward to that. 
I hope all is well with you. And have any of you heard from Rebecca? I am becoming most concerned. 

Love...Ms. Moon