Sunday, August 20, 2017

Why I Cannot Lounge, A New Business Idea, And Chickens. Trigger Warning


Well, there's Dottie and her babies. You can barely see little Rose behind Amethyst but she (or he) is there in the shadow. I threw out some old cornbread for them and they gobbled it up. I love watching them as they go about the yard, scratching in the leaves, the young ones following their mother's lead. They delight me in their adult abilities, their miniature size.
And Dottie delights me with her mothering, the way she watches over them and protects them and teaches them every second of the day, and at night she still spreads her wings over them keeping them safe as they sleep.

I got seven eggs today, one of them definitely a maiden egg. It is longer than a normal egg, and small, light brown. I would think that it is one of Owl's or Emily's as they haven't been laying yet but I think they will lay a different colored egg because that is a trait of their breed. So who knows?

And what I mostly did today was this:


Another sundress with a red lining and red panties. I have a LOT of red cotton. Here's a close-up of the Virgin of Guadalupe material. Which I bought at...Walmart.
Oh, the shame and conundrum. 


I'm thinking I should start making those in bulk and marketing them to rich followers of Catholicism and perhaps hipster parents. What do you think? 

So that's what I have done today and I enjoyed it tremendously. What IS it about the pinning and cutting and stitching and ironing which is just so immensely satisfying? It's like making pickles, I guess. Something a housewife can do which she can look at and say, "I did that with my two hands," and it is something which is useful or edible and in the case of the pickles, can be admired all winter, albeit in dwindling numbers, every time the cabinet is opened and in the case of the garment, can be worn over and over and then passed down to another child. 

I have been thinking about how when I was a young girl, after C. had quit molesting me (which happened about the same time I started my period which, I guess for a pedophile, makes a lot of sense) he became even weirder about me. Or at least, differently weird. He started what I can only call stalking me, knowing where I was every moment and being stricter with me and far less overtly affectionate. When we moved into our new house I did indeed get the most private room, the one farthest from C. and Mother's room but it had no lock on the door. It never did until my little brothers got old enough to want to get in my room and do their little impish boy things with my stuff, like painting everything in my room they could with nail polish, including my sewing machine case, my suitcase, and my baseboards. At that point, a sliding lock was put up near the top of the door on the outside to keep them from getting in and plundering but never a lock that I could turn on the inside which left me always feeling vulnerable in a way that even now I can feel in my gut and it doesn't feel good.
BUT, what I've really been thinking about was how C. would find me if I was in my room or just hanging out watching television and would quietly and in a creepy, threatening voice, tell me to quit being lazy and get out there and help my mother.
God knows she needed help with those two little redheaded boys, a year apart and each other's partners in crime, doing the things that little boys do. That was a full time job, not to mention laundry and meals and shopping and all of the million and one things mother housewives need to do every day. And this infuriated me. Not because I really minded doing things with and for the boys or any other household chores but because he never did one goddammed thing. He sat on his hideous weird black and red plastic recliner and watched TV (mostly a channel which showed nothing but a ticker tape of stock prices) and scratched his head and buzzed off the codeine he took to "prevent" headaches. He did not ever change a diaper as far as I know, much less rinse out a poopy diaper in the toilet or wash or dry or fold one. He never made a meal except for perhaps cooking up some of those pig brains he bought which of course no one in the house ate but him. If I'd seen him with a broom or a vacuum cleaner, I would have passed out from the shock.
And I'm guessing that my inability to actually do nothing but watch TV or read a book comes from those times. Best to always look busy. Better to appear to be doing homework than to be reading a book for pleasure. And always, ALWAYS, best to be hidden which was impossible.

This explains so much. And if I have to be honest, I will say that it's not a bad thing to want to be productive although it's probably not the healthiest thing to always feel as if I am safest if I am alone.

But, it's the way it is. I understand the reasons and if a good garden and preserved food and dresses for my granddaughter are the result, then so be it.

Yes, I love watching Dottie's babies do grown-up chicken things but it does not escape my notice that as they go about their scratching and bug eating they have a mother who stands by constantly. Who keeps watch, even as she directs her attention to her work. And that the roosters of this crazy flock do not attack or threaten the babies but allow them to go about their business, knowing somehow that they are still young and under the care of their mother.
And...although these roosters are as horny and randy as any creature could be, none of them approaches Dottie for sex while she is in this stage of tending her babies and NONE OF THEM would even think of trying to fuck one of the babies.

No wonder I love my chickens.
I wonder if they will try to go to roost tomorrow when the eclipse is happening. That will be interesting to observe.
I'll let you know.

Love...Ms. Moon


21 comments:

  1. Your writing is a gift.

    I love the little dresses you're making for Maggie! They're so sweet. I wish I could learn to sew.

    I'll be interested to hear how the chickens react to the eclipse!

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    1. I think that places like Joanne's Fabrics have sewing classes if you buy a sewing machine and they are not very expensive these days. It's a very rewarding thing to do. I promise you. And I will report on how the chickens react to the eclipse.

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  2. You are a remarkable human being and a splendid survivor. I feel honored to know you Mary and I'm so damned proud of you. Love
    Rebecca

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    1. And YOU are a very remarkable human being and a splendid survivor. I feel honored to know YOU! I sure do miss your blog, Rebecca.
      And I dreamed the other night that you came to visit me. Bill Murray was involved. There was a lot of fun and daring activities and I could not get over how beautiful you were. Are.

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  3. Lock on the outside?!

    *Adorable* dress.

    Hats off to you.

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    1. AJAX! I MISS YOU SO!!!!!
      Are you writing anywhere? We need you, my love!

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    2. Aw, i'm just circling back around to your comments. (Surely not at work.) Wish the 'notify me' check box was default, or could be selected after-the-fact; always forget to select that confounded thing!

      Pretty sure there is nothing necessary in regard to my written submissions wherever they may be! Same ol' melodrama. You are kind, as always, for saying so. Besos, Alli

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  4. I love your chickens too. More than some people. Rebecca is right, you are a splendid survivor. Much love.
    Xoxo
    Barbara

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    1. Birdie, you would love having chickens. I realize that not everyone can but I feel in my heart that you would appreciate them as much as I do. They are so sane in their chicken-ness. And so funny. And so generous with their eggs. And they are comforting and soothing as they go about their very determined chicken business.

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  5. C was a vile man. Your mother chose to not see what he was doing to you. I don't care how busy she was with your two younger brothers. I'm sure she did what she was capable of. I comfort myself in my own situation believing my parents did their best and what they knew how to do. It doesn't lessen the aftermath of abuse but it does release me from deep anger. Most important is that you choose to live your life completely differently. You protect you kids. You love th up. You sew beautiful dresses for
    Maggie. You've survived with such a beautiful heart. You set an example in the world for how to go thru a hell and go on to live a meaningful beautiful life. You spread love, which is the most important thing that matters and even never having met you, it's felt.

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    1. He was vile. Sitting next to him at the table as he loaded casseroles onto bread and ate it all so very daintily was, in itself, a vile thing to witness.
      I'm sorry- I still have deep anger. I just do and I probably always will. But at least I can think of what I did get out of the whole experience which was positive and there are those things. Plus, I can actually find some humor in some of it. Which is probably my saving grace.
      And can I just say that I'm glad you're here? So glad. Hugs and love.

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  6. Joanne is right. You spread love. You give me hope for our world. But oh god, a lock on the outside of your door?? I can't get over that. Hugs, dear Mary.

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    1. Yes, and as far as I know, I was never locked in but the mere significance of it being there was rather nasty.

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  7. Yes, I can only repeat that I am glad that that loathsome thing is dead. And thank goodness chickens are not like the worst of people.
    {{{{Hugs}}}} to you dear Mary.

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    1. Thank you, Rozzie.
      Chickens seem to have more natural inborn scruples than humans do. I love that about them.

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  8. well, one sort of abuse ended to be replaced by another. but we survive, we endure. my father was not a sexual abuser and at some point he stopped spanking us but he was an emotional abuser. he would pick one of us and scream at us for an hour until we were a useless puddle of tears. I would block most of what he said out almost immediately, not even being able to tell someone later what all he said. but we grow up and we leave home. he had me so helpless I had to get married to a man I knew I would not stay with in order to escape. am I trying to eclipse your pain by writing this? I hope not. you went through far more than I. I am a loner, like being alone. people tire me out after 30 minutes or so. learned habit maybe as my parents wouldn't allow me to have friends. not so my sister and brother, just me. anyway. I used to love to sew, would stay up all night to make a dress.

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    1. Abuse is abuse. My counselor told me once that one of the most damaged patients she'd ever seen had had a father who had never touched her but he never allowed her to close a door. Ever. Her bedroom, the bathroom- always had to be open. And she always knew he was watching. There are so many parents who should never have been allowed to procreated. Sounds like your dad might have been one of them. I'm so sorry. What a fucking bully. And I can remember sewing late at night too. What a joy!

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  9. I couldn't agree more about your writing and your splendidness and that you are a remarkable human being. And damn, you can sew! The little dress and panties are perfect.

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    1. Lord, Yolie. That pattern is so easy! It goes lickity split!
      (You are making me blush. YOU are the splendid and remarkable one. Yes. You are.)

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  10. He took codeine to "prevent" headaches and ate pig brains?! Wow. He sounds like a very peculiar individual. (If there was ever any doubt.) That fabric is fabulous and the dress looks great! And yes, please report back about the chickens. I loved the thing I read on another blog about how "nocturnal animals are likely to emerge" during the eclipse. Really?!

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    1. So, yeah. Are bears going to come out and forage for the time the sun is hidden? How long is that supposed to be? I am woefully ignorant about all of this.
      And didn't you know that codeine is an excellent headache preventative? Hahaha!

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