Wednesday, August 1, 2018

It's Supper Time Now


It rained and rained and rained this morning and I woke up late, my dreams keeping me weighed down heavy in my bed. It was a struggle to come up and out of that snug world as the rain poured down on the porch beside me.
I thought at first that I would spend the day here quietly and alone doing whatever it was that I felt like doing but Jessie wanted to get those boys out of the house and so we met at Costco where the plan was to let August run a little bit to get some of his ya-ya's out since he couldn't go outside and since they are leaving for North Carolina in a few days I let myself emerge from the little world here.
I stopped at the post office on my way and I was the only in there except for the post mistress and I heard her on her phone saying, "Mama, are you still bleeding?" and I was glad that I didn't have any mail because it seemed like too personal a thing to be there, listening, and I slipped back out into the gray misting rain and drove to town.

It was a great day for sampling at the Costco and those boys ate everything from haddock in butter and white wine sauce to yogurt smoothies to buttered sprouted grain toast. Look at how big that Levon is getting! Look at that grin, that little shoulder pulled up to the side of his head which makes him look even cuter than he normally does. I remember when Gibson used to do that.

I got to see the woman who works there whom I have a very sweet affection for. She is young, like my children, has a daughter. Her mama lives in Puerto Rico and she misses her. She always wears beautiful mermaid make-up. I have mentioned this before. When she saw me today, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek and we talked for a little while.
It's so odd how I fall in love with people I don't really know but you DO know, don't you? If you let yourself listen, you can hear hearts. You can hear the good ones, you can see it in their faces.
I am not telling anyone anything they do not know.

Two more chickens have gone missing. Babette and Dixie.
I heard Liberace crow and crow today.
Two roosters. Nine hens.
I'm about to give up on the poultry business. It's wracking my heart.
Oh. You know I won't. Not now. Not yet.

I shelled some peas and am cooking them for our supper. I'm going to make cornbread. I went to see if there was any okra worth picking.
One. I picked one. And two green beans. And one red chili.
This is depressing.

In fact, I am feeling a little low this evening, even though I had such a good time with Jessie and the boys. August was mine-all-mine because his Boppy wasn't there and we went to Japanica and the sushi chef let August feed the giant goldfish and he shared my salad and his mama's miso soup and he ate white rice and fried rice and salmon and edamame too. Where does that tiny boy put all of that food? Levon had his share of everything as well. Jessie has not messed with one bit of baby food for that child. He gets everything. He has six strong teeth and he can chew and he still loves his mama-milk. I believe this is how it should be done.


And this is the world I live in but in another world, collusion's not a crime, y'all! And it doesn't matter because there WAS no collusion. And Jeff Sessions needs to end the rigged witch hunt right now. And you need an ID to buy bread and milk, according to the man who's probably never been in a grocery store in his whole entitled gold toilet existence. 

I bet you almost anything that Owen knows more about the real world and how it works than Donald Trump does. I know without doubt that he's smarter and has more empathy than the president. 
Not my president but that guy in the White House. 
And August, who is not yet three, has better manners. 
"Thank you," he says, at every appropriate opportunity. And "Excuse me," he says, when he wants to add something to the conversation. 

That's enough of that. 

I need to go cut up shallots and make a tomato salad and make that cornbread. 

Let us all hold hands in our minds. I think we probably need that. Here. Here's mine. 

I love you...Ms. Moon



15 comments:

  1. I'm heartsick to hear you have even more missing Chickens! Hopefully you discover who the culprit Chicken snatcher is soon!

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  2. Oh, I'm sad to hear you have more missing chickens. Damn. Possum? owl? Likely a nighttime predator........oh, I know the feeling and it's heartbreaking
    And yes, all your grands have more intelligence, empathy and decorum than you know who.......I can't write the name- it kills me.
    Susan M

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  3. I know that Owen has more empathy than Trump. But that is saying that Trump must have some, which he does not.

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  4. I'm sorry about the loss of your chickens, and yes, a tree stump has more empathy than he of the orange hair...

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  5. O, Mary, I love the painting on your page.

    You'll be getting some wild blackberry jam from me if I can find your address. It's here somewhere.

    I love you always.

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  6. I'm feeling sad and low tonight, but as usual your blog is like a warm, comforting hug. Thank you.

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  7. well, you have to expect chickens to disappear when you let them run free and all life should run free so it's a trade off I guess. live free and accept the the inevitable. it's why I don't have exclusive indoor animals. I think how I would hate never being able to go outside. I woke up with a headache this morning. I hate when that happens.

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  8. Holding my hand out to you; we all need the comfort.

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  9. I wondered why my hand has felt warm all day, Thank you! Sad about your chooks- I think that is why I make friends with the crows and jays, they are not mine - they belong to mother nature who can take them out just like that *snap* with one of her other creatures (raccoon). The only control I have is the food I make for them.
    Strong believer in letting the child determine when nursing is over...my baby was four!

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  10. A hand across an ocean from me xxx

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  11. Oh, no, I'm sorry about Babette and Dixie. What on earth is going on with those chickens? I love you too, Mary Moon, and your fabulous blog! I want in on the hand-holding...

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  12. Thanks for the hand, dear Mary. We will make a chain of hands, and right this ship. Love.

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  13. Here’s my hand. Much love.
    Xoxo
    Barbara

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.