Monday, May 15, 2017

From Sushi To Murder To Literary Works To The Giant Armadillo. Plus. Other Stuff.

This morning Lily asked me if I wanted to go with her to get a pedicure because she had a small window of opportunity with Jason home for the morning and of course I said, "Yes," because Lily never gets treats like that and she should have someone to go with her and besides, it's lovely to get a pedicure, especially with your daughter sitting beside you.
And so we did but we got a call that Owen had had a very short, very small seizure at school. Jason went and got him and reported that he was fine. It's been a long time since Owen's had a seizure and it does appear that the medication is helping tremendously. But he'd fallen and his best friend Chase got the teacher and there was no vomiting and like I said- it was extremely short. I cried a little bit but Lily said, "It's all right. He's fine," and I snuffed it up because I knew she was right.
I cry too damn much.

After our pedicures we went back to Lily's and got Magnolia and Owen and then we picked up Gibson and met May and Michael at Japanica! for our lunch. We hadn't gone there in forever because we don't like to go without Owen since it's his favorite restaurant and it just doesn't seem fair.
Here's what Gibson looked like, hugging his sister.

And here's what Owen and Magnolia looked like on the comfy couch.

That little girl has no idea in this world that every little sister isn't loved and cuddled and carried and tickled and kissed and held almost every moment of every day. 
And yes, she is chewing on her shoe. 

So we ate our sushi and miso soup and salads with ginger dressing and green curry tofu and all of the deliciousness. We missed Hank but he'd had a jury duty summons and couldn't join us. It turned out that the trial was for a murder case and they kept him for a long time although they didn't even ask one question of him. He's so glad he doesn't have to serve because it was a horrible and grisly murder. 
For some reason, it's never truly occurred to me how deeply jury duty could affect someone. I mean- sure, of course, but not really. To have to see all of the pictures, to have to listen to all of the testimony, to have to watch the families of the victim and of the suspect. Their tears, their reactions, their so separate and yet now eternally-bound grief...
I'm glad Hank didn't have to go through that as well. 

May and I talked about books and she and Michael gave me a gorgeous Talavera sun and moon wall decoration. 

Look at those pretty faces! I'm not sure where I'm going to hang it yet but I may hang it right here beside me on the porch where I sit to write. Where I watch the birds and observe my chickens and I can see the squirrels skittering up the trees and running across branches in games of tag and of love. What a sweet present! May knows her mama so well. 

We went to Big Lots and the boys were wild. Owen is often on Full Tilt after a seizure and today was no exception. They were like puppies tumbling and jumping and running and nipping and after we left the store, we walked down to the Goodwill Bookstore and there was more of the same. I had promised to get Owen a journal and so I did, along with their books, and on the way back to Lily's house, Owen borrowed a pen to begin to write in his journal. 
"How do you spell brother?" he asked. 
Lily told him. 
"How do you spell hate?" he asked next. 
Lily and I cracked up. 
By the time we'd gotten to their house, he had written three separate stories, one about his brother, one about his mother, and one about me. Here is the one he wrote about me. He gave it to me to keep. 

I will translate:

"My Mer by Owen. One morning when I woke up outside I saw my grandmother. She came inside. I love you."

Well, that's just about my favorite story ever written in this world. And I will keep it forever. 

So that was my day and I also pulled the pea vines and a few more collards and cleaned out the hen house and did some laundry and have bread just about ready to go in the oven. I'm going to make a crab and corn chowder and a salad. Every time I pick any of the very, very last lettuces and arugula, I get a little sad. I don't know how in hell I'm going to survive without the beautiful salads I've been making since last fall. Just the smell of arugula still makes me swoon. Familiarity has not bred contempt in the least. 

One more thing- I had given up having hope that my Roseland mango had survived the winter and have been kicking myself for months for not bringing it in despite the mild winter we had. I covered it, but every leaf died and I cut it back and continued to water it but it was showing absolutely no signs of life until today. 
And look- 

That may look like nothing more than a sad, raggedy mess to you but to me, it looks like rewarded hope and memory made visible. That mango was grown from a fruit I took from underneath a tree that I ate the mangoes from when I was a child. That was so long ago that I and my other fellow feral child friends from the community had to rassle with the giant sloths, saber tooted tigers and armadillos the size of Volkswagens for the tart, sweet, turpentine-y fruit of that tree. 

I swear to god. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Magnolia is so pretty. Your family is good-looking all around. I am happy to hear Owen's seizure was a small one if it had to be at all. Poor guy. I'm glad he had Japanica today. I'm all over the place but maybe he will be a writer like you! What a sweet story about his Mer. And a pretty gift from May. I love your daily writing.😻

    1. Thank you, Joanne! Owen is fascinated with journals although he "hates" school, he says. That, of course, is the party line when you are seven and a boy.
      Isn't Maggie gorgeous? Those eyes?

  2. Sounds like a good day in spite of the seizure. I know what you mean about garden salad greens. Nothing like 'em. Sending love. N2

    1. Nope. The "fresh" greens in the store are nowhere near fresh, but you don't realize that until you've been spoiled by daily picking.

  3. Maggie, wrapped in Owen's hug, looks like August wrapped in Maggie's hug. and how can you possibly think I out do you...pedicure, shopping, lunch, gardening, laundry, hen house, bread, and chowder all in one day. so glad the mango tree came back. just when I thought the white orchid tree was a goner and went to pull it up, it had sprouted too.

    1. When I actually wrote down what I'd done yesterday, it did seem more impressive than the way it had felt, I have to tell you.
      Patience is 90% of gardening, isn't it? Just like so much else...
      Glad your white orchid tree is coming back!

  4. I would frame that journal entry from Owen. It touches my heart. What a beautiful family you are. You all radiate such love. There are few things I love more than going for pedicures with my daughter. I am already imagining Maggie joining you and Lily!

    1. Oh, won't that be fun! Little Maggie getting her little nails done? And if I know Lily, it won't be too long before that happens.

  5. Owen. What an absolutely beautiful soul he is. Loving his sister. Loving you. And then Gibson hugging Magnolia. No wonder she loves to hug August. She is loved so she loves.

    I'm glad your tree is back. I hacked down two rose bushes down this year because the were just bushes minus the roses. They are showing buds so maybe they will do okay.

    That note definitely needs to be laminated. Why did he want to know they word hate?

    1. You are exactly right about Magnolia just believing that all of us appreciate hugs because she gets them so often. August gets plenty of hugs but he doesn't have siblings to lay them on him in big sloppy ways so he's a bit uncomfortable with the whole deal.
      Owen wanted to know how to spell "hate" because he was very upset with his brother.

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  7. Magnolia appears to be very well loved. But that beautiful sun and moon piece! I think you are very well loved also.

  8. Well, I'm sorry about Owen's seizure but thank goodness it was a small one and I'm glad you got to spend a day with family. And I'm so glad your mango survived! I'm still awaiting a sign of life from my rescued fig.

  9. I love your mango story. And the rest!


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