Thursday, August 27, 2020

The Other Daily Show


The number of feathers on Fancy Pants must range into the tens of thousands. I swear. That is the fluffiest chicken I've ever seen. So far he's holding his own in the flock. I have not seen Liberace do anything but ignore him although I have seen the little man accomplishing The Sex with a few hens. Turns out he does not require a stepladder. Anyway, I took that picture this morning before Jessie brought the boys out and I just thought y'all would be thrilled to see a picture of this sturdy little feather-duster of a rooster. 

Speaking of thrilled, I do believe August and Levon were quite happy to be here today. We gave them the puzzle and Levon was beyond excited. August...not so much. 
"Is there another present?" he asked. 
But soon both boys and their grandfather were on the floor in the hallway putting it all together. 

The boys are quite good at puzzles and I love it when they fit a piece where it should go and then hit it with the end of their fist and say, "Boom!" It's a cool puzzle. 

Levon was hoping that there would be a track hoe hidden in there somewhere but sadly, there was not. After that puzzle they were fired up and did another puzzle from my collection. From the one dollar price tag on it, I must have gotten it at the Bad Girl's Get Saved By Jesus Thrift Store and to my chagrin, turned out to be the exact same puzzle that I ordered for Ms. Magnolia June, paying full price on Amazon. 
I'm an idiot. Of all the puzzles I could have bought her, I picked out one I already had. And of course I have no recollection at all of buying it and yet I must have because here it is. It was not magicked here, I can assure you. 

After doing puzzles, we let them watch some TV because that's mainly why they love coming over. August sat on the chair with his Boppy and Levon sat on the couch and The Mighty Baby Bheem was selected as we all love it. Little short episodes that are silly and sweet and absurd and all set in some part of rural India. It's a delight. 

I sat on the end of the couch to the left of Levon and did some embroidery and at one point I said, "Levon, do you want to sit next to me and cuddle?"
He looked at me in true wonderment and asked, "Why?"

Ha! Good question. He does allow me to kiss him quite graciously. August is not so accepting of my love and that's okay. I give him his space. Obviously though, he does love sitting in that chair with Boppy. When his mama came back he told her, "When I was sitting with Boppy in his chair, I got hot as a toaster oven!" 
He was proud of that. 

After a few episodes of Baby Bheem I got up and went and made lunch. When I was incapacitated from my ribs, I asked Mr. Moon to get some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I think I may have mentioned this. He bought two boxes but not the regular kind. The Deluxe kind! The kind where you boil the macaroni and then squeeze the "four cheese" blend of orange cheezy paste into the cooked noodles, doing away with the need to add milk and butter. August watched me do that and he was so excited. "Yum!" he said. He was right, too. It is yum. And salty as shit. 
I gave everyone some of the gourmet deluxe macaroni and a little bit of salad and a few nice green beans and cut-up cucumbers. 

The boys plowed through the mac and cheese, ate a few green beans reluctantly, and that was lunch. Hey! I did my job. 

Then it was time to play with toys. Out came the Lincoln logs and the little houses where the rabbits and, either mice or bears, we're not sure, live. Somehow we started on a search for more Lincoln logs which led to going through the entire toy basket which was a lot of fun. We organized things and found surprises, the favorite being a duck flashlight that goes on a keychain that not only lights up but also quacks. We also found an old Barbie whose arms had been amputated. 
Don't ask me. 
Mr. Moon referred to her as "your baby" to Levon and he was quick to correct his grandfather. "She's a lady," he said. 
He's right. 
Jessie came back while we were sorting and organizing toys and we were all like, "What are you doing here?"
She'd had a good few hours of shopping, even managing to go to TJ Maxx and getting herself a little bit of new clothing including a very cute bathing suit. So Mama was happy. 
Soon it was time for them to leave which went smoothly enough as I promised them treaties when they got buckled in. This is our ritual. August had even pulled the stepladder out, put it by the kitchen hutch and opened up the cabinet where the treats are stored to pick what he wanted which of course was M&M's. When he got in his seat and was all secured I asked him how many he thought he should have. 
"Five," he said. 
"I'll give you ten," I said. I counted them out and he accepted them and said, "Levon gets ten too." 
"I know," I told him. "He will." And he did. 
I also ate a few toes. 

And so that was our visit. After they left I went out to water the porch plants and I happened to glance over by the little swing porch and guess what? 

Mr. Moon finally caught a possum. It was a young'un and I'm thinking there's probably an entire extended family under the house. He was taken down to Lloyd Creek Road and let go. I hope he survives. It's not ideal to try and relocate wildlife but I suppose it's better than shooting them. 

I decided to trim the palms out front but Mr. Moon said, "Let me do it with my little power saw." I bitched a little saying that I could do it myself with the loppers but he insisted that it would be so much easier. And damn if he wasn't right. In about ten minutes he'd trimmed the cabbage palms which were blocking access to the porch and the Canary Island date palms which we refer to as the goddam fucking killer palms and why did I plant them? palms

Every one of those spines can pierce your skin like a surgical instrument. I always swear I'm going to get rid of them and today Mr. Moon put their removal on his to-do list. 

I loaded up all the trimmings and also trimmed back one of the spireas that I stupidly planted there. There's another one on the other side of the gate that I'll get to tomorrow if possible. I hauled everything to the burn pile and I am pleased to report that I did not spike myself once although my husband did. Which is why he is now totally onboard for pulling them out. 

Yesterday was five weeks since I broke my ribs and unless I put pressure on them, they do not bother me at all. Still, lying on the bed puts pressure on them and I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever sleep in the bed again. Every night I give it a try either before or after my shower. I lay down and read for awhile to see if I'm comfortable, if it feels okay. And every night, no matter what position I'm in, I soon develop what feels like a stitch in my side and end up sleeping in the chair. 
Overall, though, it seems rather miraculous to me that in five weeks I've gone from what I really felt as agonizing pain to being...pretty darn okay. Occasionally I can still feel what appears to be a bit of a cracking sensation. Not like a cracking-in-half sensation, just a not-quite-all-there-yet cracking feeling. But sometimes I throw caution to the wind and grab Levon and hoist him up to kiss him and that doesn't seem to bother me at all. 

And that's more than you wanted or needed to know about Lloyd tonight. I've been thinking about Jacob Blake all day long. I've also been thinking about that little piece of shit who killed two protesters and wounded a third and how he managed to just walk on out of the situation, a seventeen year old kid with an automatic rifle in his arms, even after he announced, "I just killed two people!" I try not to be a violent person in thought or deed but I swear- sometimes it's hard not to control my reactions. His parents have a lot to answer for. 

Is the RNC over yet? I have no idea. I just want the whole damn nightmare of the past four years to be over. I often have intensely disturbing dreams but my mind could never in a million years have come up with the one we're living in. 

Hang in and hope. That's all we can do. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. That blue box Mac and cheese product is the king of comfort foods. And yes that second puzzle *did* magik itself to you. Love, Rebecca

    1. One of the things I love most about you Rebecca is your fondness of the blue box mac and cheese and your deep understanding of its abilities to comfort.

  2. Oh, I just love going to your house for the day, I love the puzzle and I love the curtains, and I love the chair and the rooster and the little boys, and I love Jesse's swim suit as I imagine it. Like taking a holiday, going to you house! Remembering back in the olden days when Covid was all about Carole Baskin and her dead husband...simpler times.
    I do not know how salty shit is, but will take your wood for it.

    1. Carole Baskin. I've practically forgotten all about that. I wonder if her now-husband is still alive.
      I love having you visit my house. Thank you. The door is always open.

  3. I try not to let all the shooting into my mind, except to know it.Especially the fifteen year old who showed up to help the police.
    I truly love kids and puzzles. My oldest granddaughter used to put all puzzles together upside down. Backside up. She was the most hyperactive child in the universe. Sorted crayons by number (there's a number on every crayon!).

    1. Wait a minute...there is actually a number on every crayon?!? How did I not know this? Sorry for interrupting. Carry on.

    2. One of my kids had a reading disorder and when she started reading with the help of the best teacher in the world, I realized that she could read upside down as easily (or as with as much difficulty) as she could read right-side up.
      And I'm with Rebecca- CRAYONS HAVE NUMBERS?

  4. I feel like I've had a day out with you. This was a great post.

  5. I'd go easy on the yard work, if I were you. Remember that you are still healing! Yes, your possum is like the wood rats that periodically turn up under our house....where there is one, there are probably 3 or 4. One of these nights you will be actually comfy in bed....... it will come
    Susan M

    1. Well, this yard work was very light yard work. The palm fronds are dangerous but not heavy.
      Oh, how I want to sleep in a bed!

  6. What a fun day with the boys! You sure got some happy pictures too. It looks like Mr. Fancy Pants has sure grown quite a bit - he's a big boy now!

    1. Well, he's still about a third the size of a regular rooster but he fluffs out nicely. And yes, if his sex life is any indication, he has definitely grown up.

  7. Broken ribs are weird things - certain actions get them, others, not. Just don't mow anything, is my advice - the pulling-in motion seems to be the one that gets you.

    1. I keep thinking about that story, Jo! Trust me, I do not mow.

  8. I love this post...I felt like I had been there with you all....those gorgeous little boys! I had 3 sons, and now have 2 grandsons and one granddaughter. I guess the brown chair where Boppy and August were sitting is the one you sleep in?

    1. Oh yes. That is The Chair! I don't know how I would have survivd the last five weeks without it.

  9. Don't feel bad about the puzzle double buy...I managed to do the same thing with a book I purchased in the UK in January and then ordered another copy of it last month. The only saving grace is that the second copy was used (aka cheap)...and I gave it to one of my sons. Sigh.

    1. Ooh boy. I have always been somewhat forgetful but I'm taking it to new levels these days. Glad to hear I'm not alone.

  10. Gosh I can't believe it's been 5 weeks since you broke our ribs already (although I'm sure you've been aware of every minute). And I am also absolutely dumbfounded by the fact that a 17 year old can walk down a street carrying a semi-automatic. Outside of the military, who the hell needs a semi-automatic anyway?

    1. It does seem crazy that it's been five weeks since I fell. Time is just weird now.
      Only murderers need semi-automatic weapons. That's the answer to that.

  11. Sounds like another terrific visit with the family. I'm sorry to see the Canary Island date palms go, because they ARE pretty, but I don't have to feel those spines so that's easy for me to say! Nurseries sometimes used to buy palm trees for transplant -- I wonder if it would be worth trying to sell them? Is there much of a market for a Canary Island palm?

    Anyway, Mr. Fancy Pants is a noble-looking rooster, in a fluffy kind of way. The Kenosha stuff is astonishing. How could any adult think a 17-year-old is prepared for that kind of situation, especially heavily armed?!

    1. I asked Glen if we should put the palms on Craig's list. I wouldn't mind replanting them over by the barn where they'd be less apt to stab someone's eye out but then we'd need a digger of some sort. Levon would like that, though.
      Mr. F.P. is a hoot. He's just pure entertainment.
      As to that kid- I guess his mother thought he was ready. I would assume she bought him the gun. And he has a past record, as I'm sure you've seen.
      Everything about this is wrong.


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