Sunday, April 3, 2016

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Segues

Couldn't have asked for a prettier day and now it's the Golden Hour (or as Owen insists on calling it, the Orange Hour) and I am once again exhausted, my body aching from feet to shoulders. I spent all day raking up leaves and transporting them to the garden for mulch and I am still not done. I absolutely hate it when I have a goal in mind and can't finish it by the time I want to but there was just no way I could work faster or longer.
Raking, lifting, toting, dumping, spreading. Pulling the cart and refilling it and emptying it again and again. And I got nothing planted. Nothing at all. Why do I do this? I guess I enjoy punishing myself or perhaps it's just one more example of how I try to control my life by controlling certain aspects like having (for entire moments at a time!) a weed-free and lovely garden. Too bad I don't use this useless technique for cleaning out closets. I mean, I do love my garden and we know I love to grow food and cook it and eat it but is transporting leaves from one part of my yard to another a truly worthwhile way to spend my senior years? I guess it's better than going to a gym.
Maybe. And oh yeah- that thing about doing weight-bearing exercise helping to keep bones strong? That's not true? What? Fuck me.
No. I didn't actually read the article so maybe it does. But probably not. I swear to you- at the age of sixty-one I have seen almost every "proven" fact I know to be proven wrong.

I wonder how many times a day Mick has sex. I swear to you again and I would not lie- every time I look up that rooster is on top of a hen and it only takes him about two seconds to jump on, do it, and jump off. It takes longer for the hen to ruffle her feathers back in order than it does for him to fuck her.

Here's another thing I'm wondering about- I found a package of some mysterious-looking meat-like stuff in the freezer and thinking it might possibly be a few chicken breasts, I have partially thawed it, only to discover that it's like the innards of three different turkeys, still all wrapped in the giblet packages. I have absolutely no memory of saving these. Did I plan on boiling them up for the cats? Well, forget that. They're going in the trash.

Mr. Moon pulled out of the driveway early this afternoon. I cried a little bit when I kissed him good-bye. I don't really mind being alone but that doesn't mean I won't miss him. The older I get, the more tender my feelings towards him become. Sometimes I think that it's a damn miracle that any marriage lasts through the child-rearing/really hard-working years. The exhaustion, the resentments, the frustrations, the misunderstandings, the...immaturity.
But if you somehow manage through whatever means to hang in there, it's pretty remarkable how beautiful it can be. And it's not all such hard work. There can be incredible times of fun and of joy and of sexy-times and of satisfaction.
And I'll tell you what- seeing your spouse of many years playing with one of your grandsons or cuddling your baby granddaughter to his chest is enough to make your heart explode.
"We did this," you think, as you look at the beautiful faces of these children. "Our love did this."
And then you just want to keep on loving.

So here's the last thing I'm going to discuss- what the hell am I going to make for my supper? 
I read or hear about women who, when given nights' off in the kitchen, just eat cereal for supper.
Who are these people? 
I don't fucking want cereal for my supper. Cereal isn't supper. Hell, cereal isn't even breakfast. It's a snack to be eaten late at night while reading a book.
When Lily and I were at the grocery store the other day I said to her, "When Daddy's out of town next week I'm going to eat a chicken pot pie for my dinner every night."
"No you won't," she said.
"I know," I sighed.

Wish I had a pot pie.

Or a chicken breast. I could make my own pot pie. I have peas and carrots and flour and mushrooms and celery and onions and all that stuff.
But no chicken.
Maybe I should make a tuna casserole. I just want comfort food. I'm too tired for anything remotely resembling crunchy.

Oh wait! I forgot to tell you the most important thing!

The Tung trees are blooming! What color are these? Red and peach and yellow? I don't know but god, they are gorgeous.

I'm going to go pick a carrot if I can walk that far and then bend over to pull it from the ground. You can't believe how many carrots you get from one row of them in the garden. It's ridiculous.
And sublime.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I read or hear about women who, when given nights' off in the kitchen, just eat cereal for supper. I was never given a night off when I was married. The idea of needing to ask permission to have a night off to be given a night off strikes me as frightening. I was expected to cook every meal and I I did. And so I strayed. And I still resent that asshole for making me cook every meal even his fucking lunches. I mean seriously he was an adult. He should have figured out how to make a fucking peanut butter sandwich. I took my nights off and they were very long lux nights and they got longer and longer and finally I took my son and disappeared. And the asshole still can't cook!

  2. Rebecca- I knew when I wrote that I didn't phrase it right. Mr. Moon NEVER expects me to make his dinner and he always thanks me when I do. Every night. And offers to help. Every night. I love to cook, as do you. I should have said something more like, "Left to their own devices for supper."

  3. Chicken pot pie from the store is one of my guilty indulgences. Pastry for a main meal? Mmmm. Yes.

  4. Cereal is disgusting. When I'm alone I eat all the things Rob hates: goat cheese, crusty bread, wine, weird root vegetables, kale, more cheese. More cheese!

  5. You are are shero of mine in so many days. If we ever get a chance to sit down and talk, I'll tell you.

  6. I love when you talk about your marriage. While I do not entertain thoughts of marrying again, it does take the edge off the bitterness I feel about the institution. And I love that you know how blessed you are and never take it for granted.

    I actually adore cereal -- especially for dinner with very cold milk!

  7. The child rearing years are hard but there's a kind of glue and forward momentum to them. You know at every moment what you're supposed to be doing, what your priorities are. For me, the trickiest part of marriage was when the kids got grown and left us to our own devices. We had to create and navigate a whole new dynamic and sometimes it felt like we were staring into the abyss. But once we broke through to the other side, you're right, oh the sweetness. The tenderness and shared humor. The remembering that this is how we began, us two. And the way you talk about your family now, your beautiful grands and loving extensions of kin, well, it makes me think there's still a whole world to look forward to. Body aches and all. Thank you for this lovely post.

  8. It's nice to get some news from the other side. To know we can survive it. I'm waving from the rocky middle of it!

  9. The tung trees! So nice to see them again. I love it when I've been reading someone's blog long enough to say, "Oh, it's that time of year again!" And so it is with the tung trees.

    I'm going to disagree with you about cereal for breakfast, though. It's my daily ritual and it's hard to have a satisfying breakfast that's anything BUT cereal. For me, anyway.

    Loved the freezer mystery meat story. I bet you were saving them for cat food.

  10. Mary. The pot pies alone make me love you and this post. The Tung trees. Florida. The smell of the yellow jasmine vines haunts me! I would pay any price for a bottle of perfume with that smell. I can only imagine how beautiful your yard looks and smells right now. Thank goodness for the beauty and the light and the love to balance the scale a bit.

    I'm just catching up on reading. It's weird how going away was like entering a time warp, very slowed down, unconnected but connected to different things, all good for the soul.

    I'm so sorry for the loss of your friend, it just keeps happening all around us. You bear witness to those you've loved so well. Stay healthy, live forever and keep writing and taking pictures of those flowers and babies, please and thank you so much.


  11. And now I realize that I was commenting about a post facebook reposted from last year and no wonder my comment has you scratching your head.
    Vacation messed with my sense of time and so does facebook.
    Hope everyone you love is safe and sound :)

  12. Ahem. I have eaten far too many cereal dinners in my life. As J Mascis said, cereal is the food of the listless.

  13. I grew up with Tung trees in the yard. Always thought of the color as 'salmon'. That pinky, orangey color. Thanks for the picture. I miss them...along with a lot of other things from the South.


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