Whoa! Quite an evening here in Lloyd! Our old friend came and we drank and feasted and talked and talked and talked and laughed a lot. It was...well. What can you say about someone you've known and been friends with for forty-seven years? Knew since you were kids, stayed in touch with through the marriages, the children, and now the grandchildren?
It just feels like such an honor somehow although I'm not sure honor is the exact right word. More like gift, perhaps.
He had plans with his family back in Winter Haven today and left before we got up.
I almost wondered if the whole visit had been a dream.
We slept late, Mr. Moon and I. He spent most of yesterday with Vergil, finishing up the porch roofs and was exhausted before we began our festivities. I think a nap may be in order today. I don't have any plans beyond hanging some clothes on the line, maybe a little slow yard-work or gardening or maybe just reading.
It is allowed, nay! decreed by GOD to rest on the Sabbath.
It's right up there with not committing adultery or killing or having no graven images or putting any other gods before him.
So you know it's important.
Ah, religion and I've been on that soapbox once too often, I'm sure, but I do love the idea of a day set aside for rest although we don't often take it. Still, it is lovely to feel as if it is enough once in a while to sit and watch the birds at the feeder and in the camellia bushes, the lizards on the screens, the chickens in the yard, to let the world turn as it will, the worlds, all the worlds, sling themselves through the universe and know without doubt that I am in charge of nothing.
I might even do some ironing. You want to hear something funny? I have become fond of ironing and even more than that- there is something that happens to cloth when it is ironed. It changes the very texture of it, making it at once more crisp and softer.
Oh, I'm not going to start ironing everything but a shirt here and there- a pillowcase now and then.
It makes my husband happy.
Oh Lord. Who am I and who am I becoming? I do not know. It's sort of a mysterious journey each and every day. I don't think this ever ends.
Last night when Kerry was heading to his room, a train was thundering by.
"I hope the train doesn't wake you up tonight!" I yelled/screamed at him as the windows rattled in their panes.
It made me laugh so much.
Not to think of the train waking him up, but of having to scream to be heard over the sound of the train about the sound of the train.
I'm not sure if this is a metaphor for anything in my life, but it may be. I'll ponder that today.
Don't forget to keep the Sabbath holy. Okay? And enjoy yourself. I just opened the kitchen door to let Miss Camellia out. She got into the house and couldn't figure her way back out. She was a lady and did not poop.
See? That's holy.