Saturday, April 22, 2017

This And That, Here And There

Oh dear god, I am exhausted.
I'd say that I've spent all day working outside but that is not quite true. I did sit and write a bit. The man who owns the beautiful place on the Sebastian River where I stay when I visit Roseland asked me if I would write a letter about the community center in Roseland which is in need of county funding for repair from the perspective of a former resident who remembers it from long, long ago. And so I did. Here's a picture of the building itself that I took on one of my visits.

He probably won't even use the letter. I got way too nostalgic and sappy and used a lot of words like inspiration, heart, magical, enchanted, etc. I also included what can only be called a condensed history of Roseland from the sixties. I stopped just short of talking about Chester, the feral man who lived in Roseland and who looked like Jesus but only because I couldn't tie him to the building in any way.
Oh well. I surely did enjoy writing it and it brought back so many memories for me and it reminded me that I need to go back soon to visit because I miss Roseland and have learned that you CAN go home again and it's wonderful.

But besides the time it took me to do that, I've mostly been outside and I'm all broken out and itchy because I trimmed sagos and Canary Island date palms and got down on my belly and cleared out the horrible cherry laural seedlings from under the fig tree along with a bunch of sticky, itchy weeds, and I trimmed the bottom branches off of the fig tree itself and also the mulberry and some camellias and hauled all that to the burn pile, one load at a time. I also did a little leaf raking and mulching and was going to plant another row or so of cream peas but I burned out and came in and took a shower and took grapes to the baby chickens and got the laundry in and folded it and put it away and tomorrow's another day and I'll try to get to the garden then.

So. Yes. I am tired but I am trying to gird these ancient loins and get in the kitchen and make some eggplant parmesan for our supper. That should be good and I am glad I got all of that work done in the yard but the hotel in Cozumel where we stay just posted this on Facebook

and suddenly I want to weep and am now homesick for two places.
That is El Cielo, which translates to The Heaven and it is.

Oh well. Lloyd is not so bad and Mick is calling in the ladies and the sun is doing that magical thing with light as it goes below the trees and I noticed a blooming blossom on the highest limb of my huge old magnolia tree, it's white face turned towards the blue sky, and little birds are chittering in the trees and I can't complain.

There are many heavens to be found on this earth and I am grateful to be able to call a few of them my own, in some way or another.

I am lucky. So lucky and good Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I will be able to visit those heavenly places again, meanwhile living right here in my own tiny plot of paradise which I am still strong enough to work on which brings me a sure and certain joy of its own.

Sleep well, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday, April 21, 2017

Life And So Forth

I finally made it to one of Owen's baseball games. That's him, being a catcher.
Of course, after hitting two home runs in the last two games, he struck out three times today.
He did not seem overly concerned about it, saying only, "I didn't practice this week, Mom."
I was relieved he wasn't too upset because I certainly wasn't.

God. I am the worst at watching my grandkids play sports. I wasn't any damn good at it when my own kids were playing, either. I try. I try to focus and keep up but it all simply dissolves for me and I'm lucky if I know what color shirt "our" team is wearing by the end of the game. I mostly sit and watch Maggie who is quite amusing and who makes me laugh and I talk to Lily and to Jason's mom if she's there and I clap for everyone and wonder how much longer this is going to take.
To be honest.

But I feel like I need to go at least sometimes because, well...guilt if I don't.

But it's not an unpleasant way to spend one hour and fifteen minutes (but who's counting?) if we're not either freezing or baking.

So here it is Friday night and they are ROCKING at the church next door and there's a dog barking somewhere and I think I've pissed off my husband by telling him that he cannot use my office to put his pool table in and it's non-negotiable, even though no, I don't use it much (or at all) anymore. He has no idea of the concept of a room of one's own although if I tried to get him to let me use some space in either the Garage Mahal or the shed where he keeps stuff he'd be appalled. And no, it's not logical and I don't care. I do not care at all.

I just feel pissy tonight and there is no reason, no reason at all. I've had a fine day with another good walk and a quick trip to town and a nap too and then sitting at the ball field and laughing at my granddaughter.

But it is what it is and I am who I am and we just went out to put the chickens up and damn if the teens haven't suddenly figured out to go to bed in the hen house with the other chickens.
I'm so proud.
I feel like my babies have just graduated from high school or something.
You have no idea how thrilled I was to see them roosting in there. I'm not even kidding.
Can you imagine how I'm going to feel when they start laying eggs? You'd think I'd never done this before. It's not unlike the delight I feel when each grandchild does the things that children all normally do. I don't care how normal it all is, I find genius in each and every new step and new word, each new ability to understand and respond.

Here's August on skates today.

Genius, pure genius. 
Just like my chickens. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Tiny United Nations, Right Here In Lloyd

It makes me ridiculously happy to see the young chickens getting along with the older ones so well.
That's Dottie and Trixie, Dearie and Nicey.
Peace in the yard makes peace in my heart.
Goodness but it's a beautiful day.

Thursday, April 20, 2017


The soup was so good that we decided we should have it once a week, at least.
Slurp, slurp, delicious.

Babies, Lizards, Soup, Samurais

By the time Jason got home this afternoon, Maggie needed to be run through a car wash and I was not far behind. She had been eating peanut butter on apples and when Gibson said that he wanted some too, I told him to just lick his sister.

Ah, but it was fun and Maggie absolutely slays me with her ways, her curls, her language, her smiles, her dancing and clapping and kissing. She is like the definition of a cherub baby, happy and curious and cuddly and loving. It would have been so fine if Lily had had a boy as her third child but I am as happy as I could be that she got this little woman baby to love on, to dress, to play with, to share with big brothers and sweet daddy.

After we picked Owen up at the bus stop, I was changing Magnolia's diaper in her room and suddenly, I heard Owen yelling, "MER! HELP!"
It sounded quite serious and so I grabbed up the girl and ran into the living room to find Owen and Gibson standing at both ends of the couch with it tipped up on its front edge. I thought that perhaps they were about to drop it on themselves, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was a fairly large striped lizard, fat and still as a bird on the ground with a hawk circling overhead. It wasn't one of our regular anole lizards and I just looked it up. It was an Eastern Six-Lined Racerunner and it looked like this, only larger.

"Is it poison?" Owen yelled, still holding up his end of the couch.
"No, no. It's just a lizard," I said, and I set Maggie down and we chased the lizard towards the door but he ran behind the TV and I suspect it is still there.
After we'd settled that problem, sort of, we put the couch back down and all was well. Owen had found the toy he'd been looking for and then he sat down to do his homework and I finished pulling Maggie's britches up and then Daddy came home and I passed the peanut butter confection to her father and kissed everyone good-bye and came home where I did some ironing.

Gawd. I'm a damn housewife.

So, Hank told me about a show on Netflix called Samurai Gourmet and he said it was sweet and funny and each episode was only 22 minutes long and so about a week ago, Mr. Moon and I watched an episode. It's all in Japanese with English subtitles and it's delightful. It's about a 60-year old man who has recently retired from his job. He has been a company man his entire life, following all of the rules, doing exactly as a company man should do, and now he has freedom and he isn't quite sure what to do about it but (and this part is a little forced, if you ask me but whatever) a Samurai begins to show up who shows him the way of being his own man, specifically through food.
He has a beer at lunch!
He spends the night away from home and has a beautiful breakfast with smoked mackerel which sends him straight back to his boyhood.
And he eats amazing noodle soup.
That soup looked so good that I have determined to try and make some. Simplicity in itself and I have a broth simmering with chicken stock and a bit of kale to substitute for seaweed, of which I have none, a little soy sauce, grated fresh ginger and a garlic clove. I have tofu and mushrooms and green shallots from the garden as well as sugar snap peas, a bit immature in their sweet pods. And a package of rice Udon noodles from the Costco.
I really have no idea what I'm doing and I should have miso but I don't and none of the recipes I find online really seem to be what I want so I will just go about it as I will and hopefully, however it turns out, it will be fun to eat the noodles with chopsticks and slurp the soup from our bowls.
I will also make the simplest of salads with sliced cucumbers and Tamari and rice vinegar to go with the soup.
And that shall be our supper tonight.

My anger has dissipated as the day has gone on although the pictures going around online of Trump in the Oval Office, posed with Sarah Palin, Ted Nugent and his wife, and Kid Rock and his girlfriend do actually enrage me. This, however, is a time to try and be as Zen about things as possible, I suppose. Perhaps there is some balance as Bill O'Reilly is forced off of Fox, albeit with a shit ton of money in his pocket proving once again that racism and lying and sexual harassment pay well in the United States of America.
I don't know. I don't know shit.
All I know is that the world has turned upside down since last November and yet, here I am with the prettiest garden of my life and 21 chickens and four grandchildren and another one coming and everyone I see is just doing the best they can.

Let's keep on doing that while at the same time, staying in touch with our inner Samurais, whatever that may mean to you.

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Spew A Tiny Bit Of Ire

A good strong walk today. It's not as hot as it's going to get which is a shame because it's already plenty hot for me. Also the damn yellow flies are already out and biting and I hate those things with a fierce and bloody passion. They may have their place here on the planet and indeed, may be of indisputable value but if so, I do not know it and besides that, if there were such a thing as Intelligent Design, something less evil would have been intelligently designed to serve the same purpose.
That's just my opinion.

I'm feeling vaguely angry today with no real target for my feelings except for, you know- the obvious ones which would be the current administration and religion and people who abuse children in any way and short-sighted, mean-spirited asshat shitheads who are destroying our planet for their own economic gain and stuff like that.
There's a lot more but I have things to do before I go over to Lily's to do some child-tending this afternoon, the main one being to try and get into a better mood so that I can be a good Mer, a loving Mer, a funny Mer, a patient and understanding Mer.

I believe I shall start with kicking some bamboo. That's always a satisfying chore to do when I'm feeling this way.

So. Anyway, happy 4/20. Smoke 'em if you got 'em and that's your inclination.
I wish it were mine. I'd probably be a lot less angry.

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Let's Be Honest, Shall We?

I did go to town today and I have to say that although it was the first time I'd left Lloyd since last Friday, after about two hours all I wanted to do was to GET HOME again.
Everything was fine and it was splendid to see Lily and Jessie and Gibson and August and Magnolia, and our pizza and salad at Uncle Maddio's was delicious as always and Costco was fine with many of Gibson's favorite foods being sampled including steamed dumplings and macaroni and cheese AND fried mozzarella sticks but it all just left me jangling and janky and ready to get back to the peace of Lloyd and my own little place in it. I had to go to Publix on my way home because I didn't want to buy a flat of pinto beans, merely a bag of them, and so I stopped there too, and forgot the damn milk. I almost forgot the bananas and I only went in there for those three specific things- beans, milk, bananas.

You know those articles on Facebook with titles like, "Normal aging or dementia? Check out these five symptoms to help you tell the difference."
Well, I don't click on them because I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. It's like- why would anyone in the world go to a fortune teller or a psychic? If they're shite, then it's a waste of money. If they're real, again, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.
I mean, it all ends in death, no matter what. It's merely the details that we don't know.
And thank you, no. I'd rather not unless I can be told for certain sure without a doubt in this universe that I'm going to die happily in my sleep while having the most delicious dream ever dreamed.
Which is impossible.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Forgetting things.
I do that a lot.
But you know, there are a lot of things I don't forget. Here are a few:

1. Taking care of my grandchildren when I am needed.
2. Picking up my grandchildren if I am needed.
3. Letting my chickens out in the morning.
4. Putting them up at night.
5. How to cook.
6. How to get to Publix.
7. How to get to the library.
8. How to do laundry.
9. To set the coffee at night so it will be ready in the morning.
10. To never run out of coffee or toilet paper.

I figure if I can do all of that, it'll all be okay. For awhile, at least, and as long as I remember my husband's name.
And my own name.

Well, this has been a cheery fucking post, hasn't it?

I'm sorry but that's just part of the reality of growing older. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk about skin issues and what it's like to bleed every time you scratch an ant bite a little too vigorously or bump a knuckle on something.

Unless I die peacefully in my cozy bed tonight. In which case it will all be a moot point.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. If there's anything I do enjoy about aging, it is of course grandchildren.

The rat tail brothers and their baby sister, going to the library. 

Reasons To Leave Home

I spent almost all day yesterday outside, working and sweating and weeding and mulching and trimming and hauling. I did laundry and hung it all on the line and then folded it and put it away. I cleaned the hen house, I laid down fresh new hay.
That is what I did.
And then I took a shower and then I laid down on the bed and I read for awhile and took a small nap and got up and did more stuff and played some cards with my husband and made our supper and then went to bed and slept again.
All day I listened to a good book which I downloaded from One Click Digital (free books to listen to- do you hear me?) which is Fingersmith by Sarah Waters about whom Wikipedia says, "She is best known for her novels set in Victorian society and featuring lesbian protagonists..." and the writing is silky and funny and good.
I have ant bites all over my left arm and today I have to go to town. We are out of milk and I want pinto beans to cook with Easter's ham bone.
My favorite meal in the world.
And I need to see some babies, real babies, not the chicken babies I have been tending, although they are lovely, these chicks and I especially love the way their warm bodies feel, their smooth, smooth feathers, their dense weight as I pick them up and put them in the roost house at night to continue their sleep with the big chickens. Sometimes they fuss and I hold them close to my chest and whisper, "Ssshhh, ssshhh, ssshhh," and they settle down immediately.

This is my life and it is a good life and even Maurice came and slept with me last night and I realized once, when I woke up, that she was gently holding my hand with her paws. You can believe that or not, but it is true.

But yes, I need to go to town and not just for milk and pinto beans but also because I need to speak to humans other than my husband and remember that I am part of the human race, we strange creatures who make it up who walk on two legs, who do not have wings except perhaps metaphorically, who use speech and have opposable thumbs and who are supposed to interact with others like us. Hello, hello, how are you? Have a good day. Can I help you? Come here and give Mer a hug. Thank-you. Excuse me. I'm sorry. Did you find everything you were looking for? How you been? Yes, it is a beautiful day. Doing okay, and you? I love you, I love you, I love you. 
Don't forget that. Not ever. 
I do.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Moving On And To And Through

Morning comes and as peaceful as it here, anxiety crawls up my belly like a snake, threatening to settle in my throat, cutting off all breath.
It is beautiful here this morning. A little traffic noise, but mostly bird song and a woodpecker, searching for his breakfast in the old oak by the railroad track.
There is nothing in this world I have to do today and yet, every small chore I have before me to do or not as I choose, seems to loom like a malevolent shadow and I feel paralyzed, a squirrel caught in the road, unsure of whether to run forwards or backwards, doom seeming to be unavoidable no matter which which one I choose, knowing though that a choice must be made, standing still not an option, not an option at all.

Just got a text. An old friend of my children's has died. Probably suicide. A gay man and he spent a lot of time in the high school years at my house. I remember once, he was obviously so stoned and I said, "Honey, do you want some orange juice?"
And he did.
He was a good boy. I am sure he was a good man.

The Buddhists say that all is suffering and that is what ties us together and maybe that's true.

I have absolutely no idea why that thought no more cheers me than the idea of Jesus hanging from a cross.

Here's what I will do today:
Tend chickens. Clean the hen house. Work in the garden. Hang clothes on the line. Make the bed.
Do what I can and keep on doing it, in the meantime, staying alive.

You too, okay? Whichever way you choose to run or stroll or roll or be, just keep doing it.

It's always hard times for someone. Hold out a hand if you see someone struggling. And most likely, everyone you come across is struggling in some silent painful way.

I love you.

Ms. Moon

Monday, April 17, 2017

Another Plain Old Day On Earth

Every day Camellia comes onto the porch through the piece of torn screen that she and Maurice and Jack use to access the back porch. Every day.
I used to feed the cats on the back porch when the dogs were still alive but that hasn't happened in years. Camellia obviously doesn't forget though, and Camellia does not lose hope.
I love that old hen. She was Kathleen's hen and she still lays me a nice pale-as-can-be green egg every few days. She's a love.

I had a walk this morning and saw a large doe, I think, on one of the roads. We stood and looked at each other for a good long while and then she took off and disappeared into the woods. Mr. Moon tells me that it might not have been a doe as bucks lose their horns this time of year which I find very amusing. He said that when the males don't need their antlers to fight for a girl (his words), they shed them.
So. During rutting season, male deers are literally horny. The rest of the year, they are not. Literally or otherwise.
How could I get to the age of 62, married to a man of the woods for 33 years, and not know this fact? I mean, I knew about rutting season and I even knew that bucks shed their antlers but I never put two and two together.
I just looked up the etymology for the word "horny" and supposedly it has to do with a male erection looking like a horn but I think that may not be exactly true.
Hank- what do you think?
"Hank" is what our family used to call google before google was invented.
"Ask Hank. He'll know." I wonder how many times that has been uttered by one of us. Which is why he's such an amazing Trivia Guy.

Anyway, I have no idea what I've come here to talk about tonight. I have been a good little housewife today, mopping and doing laundry and taking trash and recycle and sweeping and chicken tending. I have never seen a new batch of young chickens mesh so seamlessly with an old, established flock as I am seeing with the teen chicks and the older birds. No one seems to be giving anyone much notice at all and the teens are sticking close to the coop, as new ones do when they are allowed access to the great outdoors. Every day they will push their boundaries a little farther and I think tonight I will set them to roost in the hen house with Mick and the big gals. It is time for them to learn where their roost truly is. I am so interested to see if there are any roosters in this new crop and if so, how that plays out with Mick.
I have no idea why I find chickens so interesting but I certainly do.

And so it goes. Another day in Lloyd, normal in all regards with the exception of getting to hear my newest grandchild's heartbeat for the first time which is a flat-out miracle.
I always say I don't know shit but I do know that for sure.

Let us all sleep the sleep of the deserving tonight. May our dreams be sweet, our bones rest easy, our souls rest easy too.
Like Camellia, may we never lose hope.

Love...Ms. Moon

Vergil Makes A Movie!

Ah...there's that newest one! A star is (soon to be) born!
And we can already dance to the beat of this baby's heart.

Jessie said that after Diana had turned off the Doppler, August asked for "More, more."

Oh, my little August love...there will be so much more.

What a beautiful day for that family.
What a beautiful day for old Mer.

All love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Another Year's Easter Feast

Just look at that picture and you'll know what a good day it was.

Or this one.

Or these.

And my big boys. 

And yes, that is the way it was here at Mer and Bop's today. August is a little under the weather which would explain his constant somber expression but he had a good time and I hear (don't tell anyone) that he and Magnolia June were caught kissing in the hallway without being prompted by crazy adults who think that's just the cutest thing in the entire world. 
Because it is. 

I got so much help this weekend, starting with Owen doing that cleaning for me and then this morning the boys and Boppy made the beds and did the chicken tending and Boppy grilled some of his delicious grouper and Lily made the pineapple casserole and May made the fruit salad and the Bloody Mary's and everyone peeled eggs and Jessie did the deviling part and Rachel made an incredible blueberry lemon buckle and Jessie made a carrot cake and Hank picked out the music and helped set up and put away as did Vergil and Michael, and Jason carved up the ham and bagged the trash and Rachel washed about a million dishes and May, of course, because she always does, finished up the kitchen and everyone helped with putting food away and tidying. 
There was so much more than that. 
And of course it was a beautiful feast of delicious foods but the real joy, as always, is everyone being here. Together. 
It's been amazing that Lily has sort of taken over the hostessing of holiday parties but she needed a break today and I really did enjoy having this one here. Although there is always a moment when I am overcome with the chaos and busy-ness and sheer amount of activity going on, there is also always a lot more joy at seeing it happen, at welcoming it all home to me again. 
All of us sitting at one table, new people sliding in and taking their rightful places with us, babies whose growth we can mark by their new abilities to do things and their language skills and yes, simply growth. 
Oh. Maggie running in the backyard, looking for her brothers, saying, "Owee!" 
August, sitting in my lap, carefully and soberly stabbing beans with a fork to feed me and his grandfather. 
Gibson, in the bathtub having a serious talk with me and when I ask him if he knows how much I love him, replying, "A lot."
Owen, putting a record on the stereo himself, hitting a baseball so hard that when his Boppy caught it, it made him fall over backwards, hugging me tight and telling me, "Mer. I love you so much."
He will be as tall as I am in two years, I predict. 

Yes. The ham and the greens and the bread and all of it were delicious and wonderful but that's the least of it. 
And damn, that in itself would have been plenty. 



There was plenty for all. 

And then so much more. 

Love...Ms. Moon

An Easter, A Sunday, A Day In This Amazing Remarkable Plain Day

Wild azalea blossom.

It is a good day to celebrate the continuation of life. Even as we speak, the challah is rising in the miracle of the wheat and the yeast, the chickens are chirping, a man and his grandson are hitting balls in the yard with a bat and laughing together.

I wish us all life and I wish us all the every day miracles which bless us profoundly whether we pay attention or not.

I believe. In all of that.
And of course, the love and the light.

May we be well.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Easter Feast Eve

Well, collard greens are cooked and in their pot in the garage refrigerator, the umpteen bean salad is mixed up and in the refrigerator in the kitchen, the kid swimming pool is inflated and filled, boys have played in it and taken a shower, Owen and his Boppy are sharing an apple with peanut butter in the Glen Den, Gibson is sitting on my bed playing with my iPad, and the sheets from that bed are in the washing machine because of a small Icee accident, and, well, a few other things have happened.
But the Rolling Stones are on the record player (Sticky Fingers) and the teen chickens got let out of the big coop this afternoon. Here's Maggie, checking the situation out and smiling her beauty pageant smile.

I mean, please. Get out a camera and she is in Beauty Queen Mode. Like Lady Gaga, she was born that way. You should see her when her Boppy walks in the room. 
"Boppy!" she says, and holds her arms out to him. 
That child has it going on. 

So not only did I let the teenagers out of the coop, I've got the bathtub babies in the little tractor coop in the big coop. I could be wrong but it seems to me that it's time to let those children breathe some fresh air and get ahold of some dirt. The teens love being outside. They're scratching all about and eating the big chicken's food and drinking from the big chicken's waterer and having the time of their life while the baby chicks are nibbling on fresh lettuce and exploring their new apartment.  

And so it goes and it's all sweet and now Owen is washing windows for me and cleaning other things. He WANTED to. What a boy! What a sweet, fine boy. 

Tonight we'll all get good sleep, I hope, and tomorrow we'll wake up and get started on preparations for our Feasty Day. Bread will be made, ham will be baked, avocados will be smushed into guacamole, eggs will be hidden and hunted, people will arrive and kisses and hugs will be given and received and hilarity may ensue if things go as they generally do. 

Once again I ask- how did I get so lucky? 
No idea but I certainly did. 

Love...Ms. Moon

While Jesus Rests In His Tomb

Oh my goodness! What a day! There are the baby chicks, Little Bear is hiding in the back. Those are the strangest chicks. They will NOT eat out of my hand and are still shy and skittish and are not growing very fast but they're fine and healthy and it's not their job to love me, is it? And they will get big eventually.

So. I just had a visit from Mel! 
She and I have been communicating for eight years now and she and her husband were in Tallahassee watching their daughter play volleyball at a tournament/competition and I invited them to stop by on their way back to Atlanta where they are catching a plane to go home to Illinois.
And just as with all of my blog friends I've met in real life, it felt as if we'd known each other always. The funny thing is, is that she's just a little shorter than me and her husband is almost as tall as Mr. Moon! We had a very, very nice little visit and she got to meet Mick and the girls and the teens and the babies and Jack and Maurice. It was all lovely.

Here we are!
Yes. We are adorable. 

But now they are off on their journey home and the boys are coming out later today and spending the night and I have food to cook for tomorrow and Mr. Moon is trimming and mowing. I'm in a good mood due to such nice people visiting and having cooking to do. Because...well, I love to cook. Let's face it. Big pots of things and big bowls of things and tomorrow will be a feast and the children will hunt Easter Eggs and we'll make deviled eggs with them and it's just going to be a fine time.

So. Good day and hello and I hope you are doing well on this So Very Holy Weekend where we may not celebrate Jesus coming back from the dead but are celebrating the rebirth of life and green and being together and all that we have and all that we love and I am grateful for every drop of it.

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday, April 14, 2017

Pictures Of Babies And Babies With Boppy

That's a picture I got from Lily this morning. She and Jessie had taken the children to a local park for an Easter Egg hunt and I don't even have the words to tell you how that picture makes me feel.

Same for these two, which Jessie sent me when Boppy went over to her house to eat his lunch.

As I texted back to her, "There. That. That's what it's all about."
Which is truer than true. Well, at least for grandparents. 

And, I just got this picture, right this second. 

Boppy at Owen's baseball game playing pat-a-cake with his granddaughter AND I hear the boy just hit a home run. 

What more do I need to say? 
It's been a good Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy Day They Killed Our Lord And Savior

And thanks, God, for sending the only son you could manage to begat (begot?) to suffer and die for us.
I'm still not sure how that works just as I'm still confused about who or what the Holy Ghost is but I'll be cooking a ham and some collard greens to celebrate the whole deal and yes, I've remembered to buy some candy. Also, my chickens are doing their best to satisfy all of our egg needs.

Now. If you have time, God, could You please not let us go to war with North Korea or anyone else, for that matter, and also, could You do something about all of the starving children?
I'm afraid it may be too late for even You to do anything about the melting ice caps and certain destruction of our planet but hey! I hear miracles are Your thing so...


Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, April 13, 2017

It's All Alright And Shall Be Even More So

I was running around this morning, trying to get things done before I left for my eye appointment. Feeding chickens, cleaning up the bathtub chick's bedding, mixing fresh water with their vitamins and electrolytes and probiotics, hanging a few clothes on the line, making the bed...general stuff.
Suddenly I remembered how damn blind I get when I have my eyes dilated and I panicked. The last few times I've gotten my eyes dilated I've known for sure and certain that I shouldn't drive. It's like one of those nightmares where you are driving along and can't see out the windshield or can't open your eyes or something horrible like that. Shit. I knew Mr. Moon had an appointment with his acupuncturist and Lily was at work and Hank was actually working and of course, May was working and so I got in touch with Jessie although I hated to, knowing how long she'd have to wait for me with August but she said she'd gladly do it and so I drove to her house and she drove me across town and while I had my exam, she took August to a little park.
It went fine, of course. No brain tumors detected and my macula looks fine and that's a fear of mine because my mother had macular degeneration. I'm going to have to have cataract surgery by the time I'm seventy but that was pretty much a foregone conclusion.
I told this doctor who saw me that I'd returned to him because I really did like him and because he'd figured out a correction that no one else had been able to figure out and he thanked me more than once for telling him that. He said that he really does like having a connection with his patients. It means a lot to him and I believe him.
Also? He has no problems laughing at jokes.
So I got my new prescription and Jessie and August came back and the sweetest, prettiest lady helped us with frame choosing. I had determined to get something with a little bit more panache this time. Why not? I'm an old lady and who cares?
I got blue frames. Light blue. Jessie and the lady both gave their approval.
And it'll take some time for them to come in. I am mostly looking forward to better vision but it will be nice to have blue frames.

So that was that and I should feel all relieved and happy but basically I came home so wiped out that I had to take a nap and woke up feeling nothing but old and weary and boring and useless.

The sugar snap peas are starting to make.

Oh, how the children will love them when they swell and they can pop the entire things into their mouths, crunching the sweet green crispness which is only available if you can pick them off the vine yourself, making them all the sweeter. 

I'll feel better tomorrow. I know I will. 

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Hey, Mr. Spaceman!

Woke up this morning almost trembling with anxiety. Okay, maybe I was trembling. This was mostly due to knowing I am being delinquent in scheduling the various screenings, etc., that my doctor wants me to do.
I checked to see when my next appointment with him was and discovered it isn't until June and fuck! The Big One Comet could hit the earth by then, totally negating any need whatsoever for screenings or blood work or anything else in the medical realm. Who cares what your triglycerides are if you're melted into nothing but maybe some random atoms?
I'm sorry but yes, I would indeed sacrifice all of humanity including myself in order not to have to schedule another colonoscopy. That's just the way it is and I am a sad and selfish woman but let's face it- if we're all dead, no one will care. That's what I say. It's like that old anti-abortion argument- WHAT IF YOUR MOTHER HAD CHOSEN TO ABORT YOU????!!!! HUH? HUH?
Well, I'd never fucking know, would I?
Stupidest argument ever.

Anyway, I actually grabbed the phone and tried to complete one medical assignment which of course did not work out but I did make an appointment to get my eye exam tomorrow with the doctor I wanted.
Yes, yes. I know. As my younger brother used to say when he was but a sprout, "No applause, just throw money."
So. Thank GOD I finally overcame all hurdles to that little chore and hopefully the optician won't notice a brain tumor through my eyeballs or tell me I'm going blind or anything like that and I'll just get a new prescription and pick out some new glasses and when I get them I'll be able to see better and won't be viewing life through all these scratches and also, I hate these frames so maybe I'll be happier about that too.
Although of course, I'm fairly certain that I'm going blind or else have a brain tumor although I have no evidence of either but this is where illogical anxiety comes in.

BUT, after I made those phone calls I met Jessie and August at their house where August spied me from the breezeway and got so excited and said, "MerMer!" and ran to the door to meet me and my heart was like a tiny pink feather, so light and so happy.
Seriously. That's exactly what it felt like.

And we went out and did some shopping and that space helmet was at Home Goods along with a lot of other coolio stuff and no, I didn't buy him the helmet (hat, he kept saying, and at one point, had it slipped down over his belly with the face shield flipped all the way up) but I did get him a butterfly net and it was just fun.
We had lunch, of course, and then we went to a little children's consignment shop (lots of good bargains on gently used children) and here's August playing at the train table.

His mama shopped a little bit and then I got Maggie two pairs of sandals and a dress which looks like something that Audrey Hepburn might have worn with a tasteful string of pearls and her hair in a French Twist. 

And then, because Jessie The Pregnant Lady had been craving a pastry from a local bakery which was right down the street, we stopped by there. She's been having more tummy discomfort than she did with August and when she wants to eat something, she should eat it. She'll be twelve weeks in about nine days and I keep telling her that she'll feel better by then and I surely hope she does. 

So it was another very sweet (pun intended) day and when we got back to Jessie's house I read August two books because I couldn't stand to leave him. He sat in my lap and we read about a farmer named Sue and how she got all of her animals to sleep and we read/sang "Skip To My Lou." And then we hugged and then we kissed and then we hugged and then we kissed until finally I tore myself away so that he and his mama could take much-needed naps. 

And tonight I am thinking of how strange it is that at the age of 62, I feel as filled with emotions and hormones (albeit, grandmother hormones rather than the hormones of puberty) as I did at the age of fifteen. 
And no more idea of how to deal with all of them than I did then. Also, no more real idea of how to deal with life. 

I am fairly sure that I never will, either. I will just keep doing as I have always done which is to stumble imperfectly through whatever arises until The Big One Comet hits the earth or, more likely, I die, feeling what I feel, loving what I love, fearing what I fear, doing what I can. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Where Do Minds Go When They Become Lost?

I have worried about losing my mind all day long. This is the result of a dream I had last night which was the longest, most detailed dream that may ever have been dreamt by a human. I will not try to describe it but will say that it contained elements of terror, self-doubt, shame, a totemic dog, and my mother's and my relationship. Also my husband's and my relationship.
I knew I was dreaming. I kept telling myself that this was certainly the longest and most detailed dream I'd ever had. And then I'd wake up but fall immediately back into it, chapter after chapter after endless horrible chapter.
I finally forced myself to just get up and get out of bed for a while and even as I did so, I wondered if I were still dreaming.
I have not quit wondering that all day long.
Such was the force of this dream.
And this is the source of my losing-my-mind concern.

It has been a most pragmatic day and so I don't really think I'm dreaming but one never knows when one's consciousness is wavering like a mirage on a hot highway. I made Mr. Moon and his Tennessee buddy whom he'd fished with a nice breakfast of eggs and biscuits and bacon to welcome them back. I will be honest with you- I am not especially fond of all of Mr. Moon's buddies but this one I like just fine. He thanked me about ten times for breakfast and told me how delicious it was. Also, he made the bed he slept in more neatly than it's probably ever been made.
These are things which impress me. Also, he tells sweet stories about his grandchildren and his wife.

After breakfast I did chicken tending and a little laundry and ironing. Oh! I took a walk, too. It's been so long since I had a good one that I was surprised I could still do it but it seems I can, unless I am dreaming, of course.

So, the picture up there is of Hawk, Trinky, Dearie, and Nora. I am thinking that very soon it will be okay to let the teen chicks out of the coop during the day. Of course they will be far more at risk for predators but they can run fast and I am fairly certain that even without a mother's guidance they will know instinctively how to hide in the dense bushes. The grown-up chickens may not like this but the time has come to begin the process of them all learning to know each other and for the young ones to begin to learn the yard and where the best places are for dirt baths and where the juiciest bugs may be found and so forth. Despite the fact that I give them fresh greens and fruit every day, they still need to learn to forage and so they shall.

My bathtub chicks are all fine. I can't believe I have only named one of them. I think I am running out of names plus the mental capacity to remember and differentiate between each one.
This is sad. I suppose I could just do as the boys wish and randomly call them Dearie, Nicey, and Butterscotch but that seems lazy. I do think it may be time to bring back the name Eggy Tina (remember her?) and honestly, who knows which of these chicks are roosters and which hens?
One never knows until either crowing or laying of eggs commences although theories may be drawn upon observation.

Meanwhile, my adult chickens are in their last backyard exploration of the day and will soon be heading off to eat actual chicken food which is by the coop. It is like getting a child to bed. There are rituals. Baths, snacks, water, stories, tucking in, kissing, etc.
Except that chickens do most of the work themselves.
Mr. Moon is cleaning the boat and I'm going to make some shrimp and grits.
He is home, now, and his buddy has departed back to Tennessee.

And that is life here today. If I have lost my mind, so be it. If this is still a dream, well, that pedophile hallucinator Lewis Carroll is right.
Please forgive me if you love him. He freaks me out and do not try to tell me that he was not in love with Alice.

I will not comment on either the United Airlines debacle or what Spicer said today about chemical gas and Hitler.

I am too freaked out to say anything about either but I will say that if this IS all a dream, I would like to wake up now.

Thank you.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, April 10, 2017

Real, Actual News Which Is Joyful

This morning I watched a video online about Cozumel and in it a meal was eaten at Casa Denis which is one of Mr. Moon's and my favorite restaurants on the island and it is probably the oldest one still operating, housed right downtown in a wooden building which is over a hundred years old. As the folks in the video ate their guacamole and chicken tacos and plantains a great craving came over me and I texted all of the children to see if they wanted to go to El Patron for lunch today and miraculously and amazingly, everyone could make it and so we went. It wasn't Casa Denis, but it was good enough and we sat out on the deck and we ate and we talked loud and we laughed and we laughed and we were probably inappropriate because we have a strange and awesome shared sense of black humor and we realized that it was Sibling's Day and it was wonderful.
Gibson would not get in the picture and Hank told him that once, when he was little, he hid under a car in order not to be included in a group photo but that Gibson boy was there and he had a good time and he ate all of his fried cheese and his french fries except for one that he gave to his sister which was so kind of him. He spilled salsa on his arm at one point, just a little bit, and he held it out to me and said, "Lick it off!" and I did and his eyes were merry and he hugged me.
Oh, grandmothers. We will do anything those bossy little grandbugs tell us to do.

I love being a grandmother. I think we all know that. I remember before I had grandchildren and it seemed like such an alien concept to me. Even as my children were certainly old enough to become parents, I felt as if I had barely stopped being a full-time mother and indeed, the years between Jessie leaving the nest for good and Owen's birth were not very many.

But. When Owen was born and I watched my daughter and her husband work together so beautifully and so splendidly and so well and so strongly to deliver their son and I finally got to hold him, it all became clear and I held that boy to me and I whispered, "I am going to be your best friend," and so it has been.
He may think that a little guy named Chase is his best friend, but really, it's his MerMer whom he himself named when he was just a wee thing.

And now I have four grandchildren, all of whom call me MerMer, even the youngest, and they kiss me and hug me and love me and ride on my hip and my love for them is too strong to even talk about without crying.

Can you guess what I am about to tell you?


Jessie and Vergil are going to give August a sibling in early November, speaking of Sibling Day, and so will be giving me a new grandchild and by now I know that my heart is indeed big enough to hold another child, in fact, it is just waiting with that baby's room prepared as if it has always been there (it has!) and so, there will be more love.
More love given, more love received.
More love within us, more love around us, more love, and it seems to me as if love just drips off our fingertips into the universe or perhaps shoots and sparks like light off our fingertips into the sky and beyond and forever.

Right there, in Jessie's belly she is holding more love and new life.

And there you go, the Very Big News which I have finally been given permission to write about and I am so glad to be able to share it.

In seven months I will have five grandchildren and a little over seven years ago, I had none.

Mr. Moon is getting home from his grand fishing adventure in just a few hours and I will be so glad to see him. I think about the night that he actually saw me in that bar and I was wearing my friend Sue's angora sweater and it kept falling off my shoulder and he asked me to dance and how now, almost thirty-four years later, here we are.
More love and more love and more love.

All right. That's enough. I am weeping at this point and I have things to do.

Here. I paparazzied Gibson who, even as I raised my phone to take his picture, ducked so that I couldn't get a good shot.
I apologize to him.
But hey- I licked salsa off his arm today with my very own tongue.
I deserve a little leeway.

I am a grandmother.
I am ruthless and I am crazy and I am fierce.

Ruthlessly, crazy, fiercely in love and ready for more and I can't wait to see who this next member of our family is.


Sunday, April 9, 2017

And This

Look at those curls.

And Yeah, I Got The Cowpeas Planted Too

I got a knock on my front door this morning and I have to admit my blood rose a bit, thinking it might be some sort of religious door-to-doors and I could get a good argument going but no, it wasn't any Seventh Day Adventists or Jehovah's Witnesses or even a politician. These are usually the only people who knock on my front door. Everyone else comes to the kitchen door.
Of course.
Anyway, there were two fellas on the porch, both dressed in decidedly secular shorts and t-shirts and the older one introduced himself and the younger guy who was his son. They were, well, detectorists. Have you seen that series? It's lovely and Mr. Moon and I watched it a few months ago. It's about people who hunt for interesting things with metal detectors and it turns out that there is like an entire culture of these people. They even have a CODE!
So this man and his son had just taken the risk of knocking on my door to ask permission to search my yard for aforesaid interesting things because my house is so old and old yards sometimes hold old things. Which are interesting.
I checked out the vibe and they seemed like fine people and so I said, "Why not?"
They were so thrilled that the dad hugged me spontaneously. I was the first person he'd ever asked for permission to hunt on their property! And I'd said yes!
They got their equipment together and assured me that they would show me what they found and of course I could keep whatever I wanted and that they always took whatever trash they found with them and so on and so forth and I said, "Fine," and left them to their own devices.
I spent the morning and early afternoon in the yard, kicking bamboo, cleaning out the hen house, working in the garden, etc. They went about their business and occasionally I'd check in with them to see if they'd found anything.
And they never really did. They were sorely disappointed, I could tell. They found a few pennies and not even wheat pennies and two little rusted padlocks and that was about it. A piece of what looked to be old gas line, perhaps.
I felt bad for them but was glad I could give them a few hours of enjoying their hobby. They both kept thanking me for letting them look and were as polite as could be, even using headphones so that the beeps of their detectors would not bother me.

Soon after they left with their sad little haul (I let them keep everything) Lily and the kids came over. We had so much fun! And let me just say that if you are ever lucky enough to get a visit from Owen, make sure to stock up on Coastal cheddar cheese to make him toasted cheese sandwiches with and you will have a friend forever.
I swear- I think he ate six of them. And asked if he could take some cheese home.
To-go cheese.
Which of course I gave him.

We checked out the new baby chicks and also the teenager chickens. We fed them fruit and Owen held Nicey.

Maggie got down on the ground to try and catch chickens from under the little roost box.

That child! She was determined to catch a chicken and of course, she couldn't but she made me laugh so much. She also took a drink of water DIRECTLY FROM THE CHICKEN WATERER but it wasn't as bad as it sounds because I'd just put a very clean waterer out, filled with fresh water, poultry vitamins, electrolytes and probiotics.
Practically a health drink! Right? Right!

We picked carrots and kale and the kids played on the play set. And Owen ate oxalis (aka sour flower) which he says makes his eyes squinch up as soon as he puts it in his mouth.

He shared with his sister, too.
I feel terrible that I didn't get any pictures of Gibson but he had a good time. When I was pushing him in the swing he yelled, "I love this so much!" and another great quote from today was Owen saying, "We have the best family ever."
I can't even remember what prompted this remark but it sure was nice to hear.

And that's been Lloyd today. A very, very pleasant day and even the chickens amused us. Mick, after I put fresh hay in the nesting boxes, made some beautiful nests and called in the hens to show them. I swear- this is the funniest thing and I remember Elvis doing it too, once in my big potted porch fern which he flattened down nicely. And for awhile, the hens laid there dutifully.
Violet came in and laid one of her tiny eggs where Mick had wallowed out the hay and that damn rooster stood over her and bawked the entire time which would have made me too nervous to lay but perhaps she appreciated the protection and interest.

I wonder how many roosters I have with these new chicks. Hell, they could all be roosters for all I know, but probably not. And it's good to have a back-up or two which reminds me to tell you that Owen and Gibson want me to name two of the baby chicks Dearie and Nicey so that we'll have back-ups of those, too, in case the current Dearie and Nicey die.
They are already sanguine about that possibility, obviously, and perhaps that's part of my role in their lives- teaching them about life AND death.

All right. One more picture. Lily sent it to me. She couldn't wait for Maggie to really get enough hair to make a hairdo with but she did give her a little ponytail on the top of her head.

Show me something cuter.
You can't, can you?

I think we'll keep that kid. 
And yes, that's a Kiss t-shirt. 

And now, since it's Sunday and we need a hymn, I offer this. 

She's my little rock and roll.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, April 8, 2017


Mick, holding Miss Nora close and warm.
You can't make this shit up.

Up. Down.

I got a text from Lily this morning saying that Gibson had a T-Ball game at 10:30 in case I was interested.
It was one of those mornings and I knew that if I valued my sanity I needed to get the fuck out of the house and so I went and so did Jessie and August, as you can see. Well. There's August which, 99% of the time, means that Jessie is within arm's length.
When I got to the field, Owen came rushing to meet me and hugged me so hard and even rubbed my back and then hugged me again and I knew I'd made the right choice in coming. Jason is coaching the team again this year and not only is Gibson on it, but so is the darling Lenore. There are lots of girls on the team this year and one of them was even smaller than Lenore and wore a pink helmet and played just fine and I wanted to take her home and wrap her in a blanket and rock her to sleep because she was that cute.
So we had a good time, watching the game and cheering on both teams and there were only a few tears and Gibson mostly paid attention and Maggie fed snacks to August who was a bit wary of even that sort of attention and then he wanted to go play ball too and so did Maggie, to tell you the truth.
Then she found a chair that someone had brought and decided, just like Goldilocks, that it was just right. 

And it was. 
Please note the Farrah Fawcett curl she's got going up there on the right side of her head. Her right. Not ours. 

Eventually, the game ended, as they always do and everyone lined up to slap hands with the other team and coaches and umpire. 

There's Gibson and Lenore. 
This is definitely my favorite part of the entire game. 

So that was that and then we all went to a little arts and crafts festival where our friend Kelly (who gives me chickens) was selling her jams and jellies and preserves. There was a DJ and lots of people selling their wares and an Easter Egg hunt. We hung out there for awhile and I bought two jars of Kelly's preserves and a loaf of homemade banana bread offered by a family which seemed to have a lot of little girls in it. They were darling. What can I say? And then I gave the loaf to Lily for her eternally hungry children to eat. 

All of this was good. I needed to be outside and with people and with people, specifically whom I love, but I was uncomfortable the whole time. The anxious itchiness was making me hyper aware of everything and even though part of me was fine, there was another part that was screaming and I'm sure that some of you know what I'm talking about. But I proceeded on to Publix and then to the library and then came home and I called Lis. 

We had such a good talk after which I went out into the garden and did some weeding and for about an hour I felt like myself and cheerful and hopeful and I cut up the chicken's fruit and fed them and turned the sprinkler on the garden and was looking forward so much to my supper tonight and was so glad to get a picture from Mr. Moon holding a nice-sized grouper and then suddenly, the anxiety fell upon me again and I swear to god, I am sick of this shit. 
One moment I am just pleased as a woman can be because her oldest hen has laid two eggs in the last week and the next moment I wish with all of my heart that it was time for bed so that I can just dissolve into blessed unconsciousness. 

Well, fuck it and tomorrow I am going to plant some cowpeas and I got Zadie Smith's new book from the library and it's going to be cool temperature sleeping again tonight and perhaps Maurice will sleep with me once again, her weight against my hip a most real comfort in the dead hours of dreams, and all of my chickens are still alive and there will be grouper in the freezer soon and I got kisses from all of my grandchildren today and Keith Richards is still alive and I have appliances and I have extra rolls of not only toilet paper but also paper towels and I have friends and I live in a most beautiful place and the wild birds are singing their going-to-bed songs as are the hens, and the sugar snaps are blooming and soon we'll be eating their tender pods and peas, and suddenly the tears are stinging my eyes and I know that no matter what, I could not and would not trade this particular life for any other. 

But I sure wouldn't have minded getting some better chemicals. I ain't gonna lie. 

Be well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday, April 7, 2017

Past. Present. Tense.

I had ordered some overalls for Owen and Gibson, per Owen's request, and they arrived in the mail yesterday so this morning I took them over to Lily's when I went to babysit. Owen was thrilled and immediately changed into his after asking his mom if he could indeed wear overalls to school.
"I don't care what you wear but we're leaving in two minutes!" she said, frantically trying to get everything ready to go take the boys to school and then to get to her dental appointment. So I helped Owen get into his new britches and buttoned up all of the buttons and took off all of the tags. He was immediately aware that all of those pockets would come in mighty handy when it came to smuggling Pokemon into school. He loved them. We also discussed how one pees while wearing overalls and his mama gave him some excellent advice which was, "Don't let your straps drag in the toilet."
He looked horrified but I assured him that this could indeed happen if he were not careful.

Gibson couldn't have cared less. He was too excited about being picked up at school by his Aunt Loren and then taken with his beloved Darling Lenore to go see "Baby Boss" to give one thought to his wardrobe.
My Lord, but small boys have a lot of energy at eight a.m.
Maggie was pretty wild too but sweet and happy and she wanted to drink the smoothie I'd brought and so I let her and I swear- she must have drunk eight ounces of fruit and yogurt. We sat on the couch and played baby games and I followed her around inside and out. She's a pretty self-directed little woman when she doesn't want to be held and cuddled which she enjoys immensely. She is firmly into the "dat" phase of language learning, pointing to everything she sees with her fat little finger and asking, "Dat?" which is just what her Uncle Hank did and which, in my learned opinion, indicates huge intelligence.
I took her outside for a little while and it was the most beautiful morning, cool, with the sun coming up and making all of the new green shine with near iridescence.

She was wearing one of my favorite dresses, made of a very narrow wale corduroy along with leggings and her faux Ugg boots and this is a very cute picture but I love this one the best.

She had grabbed her brothers' baseball bat and was headed right down the driveway as if she was already running away from home, taking big strides in her black fuzzy boots. I followed her for a ways but before she got to the dirt road, I took her hand and said, "Come on, little woman, let's go back home," and we did. 

When it was time for a nap I held her on my lap and read her a book three times and she fell fast asleep. There is something so infinitely precious about having a child trust you enough to fall asleep in your arms. I carefully transferred her to the bed and waited for Lily to get home. It turned out that instead of a root canal, the dentist decided she could make do with a crown and so that's what she got but it still took awhile. And I wouldn't have traded those hours with my granddaughter for anything. We joked and laughed and cuddled and read and traded an apple back and forth for bites and talked about the names of things. 
We simply love each other. 
This grandchild love, even after seven years, is still amazing and miraculous to me. I still find each one of them to be quintessential human beings and of course I would- all of my foremothers and forefathers have helped contribute to these small people and although I don't see myself in any of them, not really, I am sure there is a subconscious recognition of DNA and RNA and this is good. It ensures that grandparents help to love and care for their grandchildren, thus helping to ensure that the genes keep on going. 

Lily and I were talking about Owen wearing those overalls to school today. 
"I hope no one teases him," Lily said. "Then again, he has that rat tail and doesn't care what anyone says about that."
"True," I mused. 
"He said he was going to grow it forever," she said. "So I asked him what would happen if one day he got a girlfriend who didn't like it. He said, 'My girlfriend already doesn't like it.'"
I laughed and laughed. 
There's a boy who just doesn't care what others think. He is who he is and he likes what he likes and to hell with the rest of the world. 
I admire that. I think he's going to be okay, that one, and so will August and Gibson and Maggie. 

And that's what I'm thinking about tonight as the sun sets and the chickens go to roost. 
Little Bear is still with us. I'm not sure at all that she's out of the woods yet but when I gave the bathtub babies some cut-up fruit, she ran and pecked up a tiny piece and went and hid to eat it. I can tell that she's lost ground, growth-wise, in the past few days but if all goes well, she'll catch up. 

It will all be what it will be and I refuse to fucking discuss the potential disasters being foisted upon us and the world by Mr. Shits On A Golden Toilet. 
How DARE he use the phrase "beautiful babies"? How dare he? Who wrote those words for him to say and I ask you this- does anyone on this planet believe that he's ever looked at a baby and thought, "Beautiful," much less felt a need to protect it? 

I will stop now because that's enough and there is more than enough scary and weird and terrifying energy flooding us all right now. I will simply say yes, let us love our beautiful babies and do everything we personally can to protect them, to nurture them, to tend them, to love them, to encourage them, to make them feel safe enough to be who they are, to sleep in our arms when they are tired. 

Bless our hearts. That's as close to prayer as I can get. 
Bless our hearts. 


Love...Ms. Moon