Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Plain Goodness And Too Much Nature, Part Four Thousand

Owen will be going to the clinic tomorrow morning at 9:30 and his daddy can go with his mama so I will not be needed but today I went to the store with Lily and the boys and Maggie and that was a huge outing for us. Since Lily works at the Publix where we shopped, we were stopped about a hundred times by staff and customers alike but Lily had been smart and had her daughter in a carrier strapped to her so no one could get TOO close. Just little peeks at her sweet, sleeping face.
The boys, however, were under no such constraints

and were like wild little wolf puppies and it was quite an adventure. 
But I had fun. 
And when we got back to Lily's house I got to hold that baby girl some more and kiss her. I swear, she is growing more beautiful every day and she feels like heaven in my arms, that sweet tiny bit of weight, that soft child against me so that I can brush her head with my lips again and again and again, taking in her smell, her newness, her very aliveness. 

Today has been a miracle all the way around. This mood- oh! It's been so long since I had a day like this of just complete okayness. Of acceptance and being here now and appreciative of how it feels when all of the little gears have clicked into their correct places and neither my body nor my mind require my attention, allowing me to just live this life I have been given. It is not unlike thinking you can see just fine until you get a new pair of glasses and put them on and realize that no, you have not. It is the same world, they are the same trees with the same leaves but until you put those new lenses in front of your eyes, you could not see begin to appreciate their beauty. 

After I said good-bye to Lily and Owen and Gibson and Magnolia, I came home and put my groceries away and collected my eggs (Miss Camellia is definitely laying again) and then I swept and mopped my kitchen floor. When we left on Friday to go to Apalachicola I was so embarrassed that the neighbor who was going to feed my animals would see that floor! When I take care of their dog when they are out of town, their house is immaculate, which is a word that doesn't get anywhere near my house. Ever.

But at least the kitchen floor is clean now, for this moment at least, and look- do you see up there in the upper right hand part of the picture by the wall a tiny little...something? 
I noticed it as I was taking the picture and then I walked over to it, thinking it was a leaf, perhaps, which had escaped my broom, my mop. 
Of course it wasn't. It was, well, I'm not sure but I am quite certain that at one point, it had been inside of a mammal. And Maurice had to have brought it in. I won't tell you what I think those inside parts were because most of you did not go to nursing school. Let me just say that it was partially incredibly interesting and partially truly horrific. 
After I cleaned it all up and washed my hands thoroughly, although, trust me, they did not come into direct contact with one molecule of that viscera, I made a casserole that I think Mr. Moon will love. It's not unlike something our mothers would have made with noodles and hamburger and Lipton Onion Soup mix although this one is made with venison and fresh tomatoes and artichoke hearts and capers and mushrooms and so forth. 
And there will be arugula and kale in the salad so you know we're modern and nutritional and shit. 

My god. If I could have one day a month that I could count on that would be as fine as this one, I think my life would be a hundred percent better. I didn't win the lottery or get notified that I was being published or find a cask of gold and rubies and emeralds and diamonds under my floor boards. I did not meet Bill Murray or get cast in a movie by Wes Anderson or get kissed by Wanda Sykes or Brad Pitt. I did not find a cure for cancer nor did I even take a walk. I went to the grocery store with one of my daughters and her children, I mopped my kitchen, and I made a casserole. And yet- it has been a completely wonderful day. 

Damn. Chemicals. All chemicals. 

I'll let you know how tomorrow goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I'm happy you enjoyed a perfect day today. They are amazing when they occur, aren't they? differing circumstance (sort of) but I recall when in the throes of menopause, with too many sleepless nights to count........I would suddenly have a restful and sound nights sleep and wake up the next morning feeling as if I had been reborn into a new person full of love and perfect energy and mood. I had forgotten what that felt like to be *me*, so I'm glad you felt so full and good today. A blessing to cherish
    Susan M

  2. I am very happy that you had this lovely day.

  3. So glad you enjoyed your day. Tell me this, though. What IS that in the upper right hand corner? I can't really make it out, and I definitely want to know.

  4. We are sisters. I know too well what you mean.

  5. Thank goodness for a perfect day! I'm glad a bit of entrails on your newly cleaned kitchen floor was merely a source of amusement -- as it should be. :)

  6. How lovely to read about such an upbeat day that was so perfectly ordinary.
    I always wondered what that tiny organ was that our cats would always leave behind. Kidney? Liver?


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