Thursday, September 23, 2021

Things DO Change


I am back to feeling a bit flat today but that is to be expected. First of all- we are leaving tomorrow morning. Secondly, the so-very anticipated river journey was not as it used to be and although I am loathe to be one of those people who disdain the new in service of the old, in this case that would be completely rational. 

When I took the river cruise before, the boat made a leisurely journey up the south fork of the Sebastian River, thus providing views of beautiful homes on one side and of the river islands on the other. There is even a huge home and compound on an island that has, if I recall correctly, a helicopter pad. I'm not talking about a Koreshian type of compound but a fabulously wealthy family's compound, a fantasy of beautiful houses tucked away in trees and mangroves. 
However, now there is only a trip down the north fork of the river which is fine but not nearly as interesting. Especially if you're from Florida. 


I mean- that's beautiful, right? Of course. But it seems like there was even less wildlife to see on this fork. We saw a manatee, one dolphin out in the Indian River, and some birds. I had just realized that we were not going to do a lap of the north fork when an alligator was spotted and I could not be moved to even stand up and look. 
Please. I see alligators every time I go swimming. 
Almost. But still. 
Mr. Moon reports that it was very small. 
Pffft.

We did pass through the old trestle bridge and as you can see- it has served its time. 
And here is a lovely osprey, taking a rest from his fishing.


The man who did most of the talking for the tour told me that the company that owns the boats and business did not want the boats to go up the north fork anymore. He did not give a reason but said that the captain was fighting it. 
I bet.
I imagine the residents with their palatial and very private homes may dislike having peons from a pontoon boat gawking at their houses, yards, pools, and docks twice a day although I have never once seen a person down by the river on these cruises. And in fact, whether on the Sebastian River or on the Indian River, the largest and most McPalaced homes appear to be shuttered and shut for hurricane season with no sign of human life. I guess people build or buy these things and visit them for a few days or weeks a year, meanwhile forcing the price of that waterfront up so high that people like the Judahs who owned fish houses and lived right there on the property for generations are unable to afford to keep their family homes and businesses.
We passed some beachfront houses yesterday that were ridiculous in both size and design. Who ARE these people who build such monstrosities? These buildings are no more homes than a movie set would be and many of the real estate signs say "Sothebys".
Don't get me wrong. There are many old, gracious, graceful and beautiful homes that appear to be loved and lived in and some of those have been around since I was a child. And those are the ones I wanted to see today. 
Well. La-di-dah.
Roseland proper, here where I grew up, mostly has small and very old and very humble little houses. As I have said before, many of them look better now than they did when I was a child sixty years ago which amazes me. But they are definitely NOT mansions. The place we are staying was once an estate but the big house burned down a long, long time ago and the house that was built in its place is a nice house but it is nothing fancy. The cabana house and the pool, the stucco arches and the ironwork gates are remnants of those old, old days and I love the men who own this place who have not tried to completely defunkify it but have incorporated the old within the new to create a work of art that is livable and comfortable and I think- very, very beautiful. 
Here's what the living room of the cabana house looks like.


There are lovely and simple elements everywhere that make it so very Florida, so very charming, so very comfortable. 



One of the owners is obviously a master at finding things that fit into the time and place and space he has envisioned. I am in awe. 
Not to mention in love. 

We haven't even gone swimming today. I have a feeling that before I go to bed tonight, though, I will have been in the pool. The luxury of swimming under the stars with the lions keeping watch is one of the most pure joys I have ever experienced. 

Almost time for sunset. 


Love...Ms. Moon


Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Almost Too Much In Every Way


We went to the Sebastian Inlet today which is directly across from the Sebastian River. I took that picture from one of the fishing piers. Can you see the Roseland water tower? I remember when they cut the ribbon across the bridge in 1965. I was a child, of course, and it was a sorrowful day in my own life but a joyous one for the people here. 

Almost everything around here is sort of like that. There are memories on every block between this house and Vero Beach. I swear. How could I have so many memories when I only lived here for maybe five years? 
I guess they were formative years. 

The water at the inlet was gorgeous today. Almost Caribbean-like when the sun was shining. 


The piers that line the inlet on both sides are always filled with people fishing and it's like an international gathering place. I heard at least three different languages as we walked the length of the one on the north side. 


Here is the phrase I repeat most when I am here: "I remember." 
I remember before there was a bridge at the inlet. I remember when they built a bridge and it was almost done and a hurricane came and swept it all away. I remember the hurricane. I remember when they rebuilt the bridge and opened it up. I remember when there were no piers, just horrible slippery, jagged rocks with barnacles on them that people walked out on to fish, setting their tackle boxes in the cracks between the rocks. I remember when these fish houses were open. I remember when there were no houses here. I remember these cottages. I remember when Aunt Flonnie would stop the school bus right here and open the doors and take a deep breath and say, "I love the smell of the crab house!" I remember when someone was murdered at the fruit stand. I remember there used to be a rocket that lit up at a garage right next to the Tastee Freez. I remember the chocolate dip-top cones we got at the Tastee Freez. I remember Granddaddy getting shrimp to use for bait when he'd take us fishing on his dock. He bought it from Johnny Mays. I remember playing marbles on this road, drawing our circle in the dirt. I remember kids with teeth that were black from decay, skinny as sticks. I remember my mother teaching me the cha-cha-cha in our living room. I remember my brother accidentally breaking her new lamp and her fury. I remember getting cactus-stuck over and over again. I remember falling off my bike over and over again. I remember checking out books at the community center until I read all of them that I was allowed to read. I remember the little boy getting run over by a delivery truck in the back of my school, his head under the tire of it. I remember the wooden bridge over the Indian River on the way to the beach, the tha-thunk, tha-thunk, tha-thunk of it. 
I remember. 
It seems like I remember everything. I could go on for pages, all day. And every memory seems to come with a hundred different parts, each one integral to the story, the whole, the cloth of it. 
Sometimes when I am here I feel like my soul might just fly out of my body in order to become part of those memories, leaving this old body behind, done, used up by it all. 

And although so many of the memories are painful, they are mine, they are clear, they are sharp, they make me realize what a strong child I was and how much nurturing I got from the river, the trees, the ocean. 
And a few incredibly precious people. 
How all of that saved me over and over again. 

My husband is a saint to let me go on about all of this. 
It can't be easy. Sometimes I cry for no real reason that he can see. Or even that I could say. I am just too filled and it has to spill over. 
Sometimes I have to be quiet to settle myself. 

At the inlet, there is a state park and a small museum of the history of the local fishing industry. I know. Sounds so boring. Not to me. I grew up surrounded by those fishermen and their families. I remember. 

Here's a picture of a woodstork, wading in a puddle in a parking lot with some other bird. 



I do not remember woodstorks yet here they are. 

And here is the Atlantic Ocean.


We were going to go swimming but those clouds let loose of their rain and we did not. 

Still, it was beautiful. 

I've signed us up for a "river cruise" tomorrow that'll come down the Sebastian River. I've done this twice already on previous trips. I can't wait to do it again. Will we see the giant alligator we saw before? My dream house? (Oh surely.) Tarzan? A dinosaur? Manatee? Dolphins? 
Whatever we see, I will surely be glad. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. 








Tuesday, September 21, 2021

If You're Living On The Edge, You're Taking Up Too Much Space (Words of Wisdom From A Guy Sitting At The Bar Of The Ocean Grill As He Was Awaiting A Margarita)


We did indeed make it to the Atlantic today. However, we neither went swimming nor even walked on the beach. What we did do was dine beside it. 

I cannot possibly imagine a trip to Indian River County without going to the Ocean Grill. Lord knows how many times I've talked about it here. The first time I went there, if I am remembering correctly, was on a Mother's Day sometime back in the early sixties. The restaurant was built in 1941 by the strange and eccentric Waldo Sexton and by god, I wish I could have met the man. Much of Vero still holds his fingerprints. If you see something that is old and very funky and adorned with strange and antique and beautiful things, you're most likely looking at some of Waldo's work. Here's one of the dining rooms in the Grill. 


It was built rather too close to the ocean and has been through who-knows how many hurricanes but still it stands, refurbished and rebuilt many times, but always and eternally smelling of cypress and other woods, the ocean, salt, delicious food and some ineffable scent that belongs only to it. 
It's an old fashioned restaurant. There's very little of trendy food at the Ocean Grill although I did see there is a Beyond Burger now being offered. But mostly there is seafood, steaks, chicken, salads. You know. And the world's best Roquefort dressing. Not blue cheese, you infidels! Roquefort! The servers are perfect in all regard. They are attentive but never hover. If you ask for lemons, you will be getting lemons. If your drink needs refreshing, they will refresh. You are treated as if you are the only guest in the place but never in a cloying or over-enthusiastic way. They are friendly but not pretending to be your best friend. They are professional and efficient and when I say that my back-up plan in life when I was young was to try and get a job as a server at the Ocean Grill to support myself and my children, you can believe it's true. 

So that's where we went today and we sat at the bar for a Bloody Mary because when I go there I want to sit at the bar and look at the ocean and settle myself down into that space and place, letting each one of my senses open up to all of it. 


I could have happily sat there all day long, drinking Bloody Mary's but we only had one. There is day-drinking and there is day-drinking and I am too old for the serious kind. But oh! It was tempting to ask for another. 

Instead we transferred to a table (by a window, of course) and I ordered what I always order when I go there for lunch, which is a shrimp salad. 


Mr. Moon got scallops and a salad, and muffins that are more cake than bread were set before us. My husband was so taken with them that our server brought us three in a bag of them to bring home. 

Oh sigh. Oh sigh, oh sigh, oh sigh. 



After lunch we drove around Vero for a bit and then came on back to the Cabana and went swimming under the gray sky. 

Heaven and magic. 

Mr. Moon just told me that Brad's here. I better go say hello. Also, it's time to go down to the dock. Just because it's too gray for a sunset doesn't mean the sun won't set and I want to be on the river when it happens. 

********************



Glen is on his way to go pick up a pizza. I'm not cooking today, it would seem. We watched the river as the sun went down. There was no wind, the water was a flat, silver mirror and mullet were jumping and slapping, and the no-see-ums were fierce. Still, it was peaceful and lovely and I feel completely full of goodness and rightness. 

I am so very lucky. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Change And Beauty


I call this the secret garden and in a way, it is. It's right beside/behind the cabana house, walled off from everything- it's own little courtyard. When I walked into it this morning I realized that Glenn, the owner, has spent a huge amount of time planting, trimming, and just working his ass off. It all looks like something from a magazine. 



It's paradise. 



It somehow all looks barely tamed, primeval and yet at the same time, a lush garden of Eden where Eve and Adam can partake of the glory of it all they want as long as they share with the wild things, the birds, the fishes, the snakes, the lizards, the land crabs. 
I saw one of those this morning in the dirt behind this little bit of architectural landscape art. 



The crabs of which I am speaking are huge and at certain seasons, they come forth from their burrows in the river-mucked earth to mate and plunder. Hundreds and hundreds of them. So many that it can make you tremble to realize they are living here all the while, around us, below us, beside us. The one I saw this morning was far bigger than Mr. Moon's hand and that is a large crab. He scuttled out a little ways, saw me, waved his prodigious claws, and retreated into his underground home. 
I was happy to see him. I remember his great-great-great-great... grandfather from when I was a child. 

We hung around this morning, taking it all in and I made us a nice breakfast and we went down to the dock to see what the river was doing and it was hot but lovely, the water rippling and flowing with the tide. A small blue heron fly by and landed on a piling next door and surveyed the river with us. The mangroves which line the shore are blooming, I guess, with their fat buds. They look healthy. They are protected now, as they are a vital part of the watery ecosystem and I am glad of that. 


We got a better look at the railroad trestle and although it breaks my heart to know that it is all being torn down and replaced, I realize the need for that. I have read that great chunks of rust are falling into the river along with lead-based paint. It was built in 1927 and that's a very long time for a trestle that is built over salt-brackish water to survive. 


We got ourselves together and went to the Methodist Church thrift store and then drove into Sebastian and went to the Goodwill where it would appear that natural fibers are unlawful. We drove around and Mr. Moon indulged my constant recitation of memories and we had lunch down on the Indian River. 



I had noticed that the fish house run by an elementary school mate of mine had disappeared and looked it up and found the saddest video which you can find here. 
Bobby Judah is the same age as me and his family fished the river and sold seafood for seventy years and now they have been forced to sell the property the business sat on. 
Things change. Things change. Things change. 
I have been thinking about that all afternoon, and it has saddened me. Although this little part of Roseland is so much like the Roseland I remember as a child, all around it there have been more changes than I could have imagined. Where once there were fishing docks and miles of bare river front, there are now restaurants, and McMansions and fake Victorian houses. But it is still holds beauty and I am aware of that. 


The sky. The light. The water. 

It started raining after I took that picture and we've had a slow and peaceful afternoon. I had thought we would go swimming in the pool and Flo, the flamingo, has been drifting by the kitchen window all day, trying to interest us in joining her, but although swimming in the rain can be a rare joy, we have been lazy here in the cabana house, reading and resting. 


Brad, the resident peacock whom we have been asked to feed showed up a little while ago. 


"Oh hello, Brad," I said. 
"Harumph. Where's my catfood?" he asked. 
I cannot imagine anything more charming than a peacock named Brad. 

If you find me to be scarce in the blogosphere as to answering comments and commenting on other blogs, please forgive me. I feel a great need to Be Here Now as much as I possibly can.


Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, September 19, 2021

Here


After approximately four thousand and thirty-nine years of driving, we finally made it to Roseland. Above you see the requisite photo of the Publix where we stop on our way in to buy groceries to stock our little cabana house with the Roseland water tower behind it. 
This part of Florida has some amazing skies. 

The driving was not so bad, really, but mostly because I was doing everything I could to envision my lotus flower as Lis says, or something like that. Also, I was reading out loud a book that I've read so many times and even at least once to Mr. Moon and which is such a beautiful rendition of how Florida used to be and how it still is in a few rare and precious places. 


I have to say that parts of it are incredibly racist which is absolutely representative of its time. When Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings wrote it, less than a hundred years had passed since the Civil War. 
Still. Those parts are difficult to read and every time I read the book, more of those parts become apparent to me and more of them become abhorrent. 
And I keep thinking about the fact that she had Zora Neale Hurston as a guest in her house which, in those days, was probably an outrageous thing to do. 

Anyway, we did our grocery shopping, we drove down the white sand road to the house. We unloaded, I put all the groceries away, and we went down to the dock. Glenn, the man who, with his husband owns this property, had told me that they were finally tearing down and replacing the old Flagler railroad bridge that crosses the Sebastian River which has been a totem in my life since I was five years old but until I saw that it was happening, I had let myself believe that it wasn't. 
It is. 

I am trying very hard to remember that it is a vast miracle that so much of this place, this childhood place of mine, has changed so little and that honestly, I have to accept that railroad bridges, no matter how historical or beloved by me, cannot live forever. 

The river is still the river and we watched the lightening across it, forking great limbs of light that lasted no longer than the flash of a lightening bug, so far away that we could not hear thunder. 

All is well. 


The lions still stand guard. 

Love...Ms. Moon


Saturday, September 18, 2021

Martini Mermaid Magic




So lately, I have been thinking so much about Roseland and about the Atlantic Ocean, which is the ocean of my childhood, and I have been missing both of those places so very, very much. I've been experiencing such a profound yearning for them, so strong that it has almost become a constant ache. 

And yet, due to the fact that just the thought of leaving Lloyd, my house, my chickens and my family causes me anxiety, I have done nothing to alleviate that ache, indulging my anxiety and allowing my discomfort at the thought of actually doing what it takes to get there to stop me from even asking my husband if he'd like to take a little trip down south before he heads up to Canada in a few weeks. I didn't want to talk about it because if I did, someone might say, "Well- what's stopping you?" and then I'd have to admit to myself that I'm such a stuck and anxious person, resolutely hanging on to what I perceive as comfort and safety. 

Until last night. 

And yes, martinis were involved. 

Buoyed on the waves of the martinis I let my yearning get the best of me and I shot an email to the man who bought my childhood dream place on the Sebastian River a few miles north of Vero Beach and who rents out the little cabana house by the lion pool by the river that I love so much to ask if he had any last-minute availabilities coming up. Almost immediately he answered, saying that he'd blocked out this whole next week because he and his husband are going on a cruise but that they would be thrilled for us to stay in the cabana house while they're gone. 

Oh. Holy. Fuck. 

Trembling, I went and asked my husband if he'd like to go to Roseland with me for a few days. And he said that he very much would. 

And so, we're leaving tomorrow and will stay until next Friday in the little house with the pink stove  


where I will cook us delicious meals and the fountain in the beautiful courtyard will sing for us


and where the lions will spit water into the pool faithfully and steadily


throughout the day and where I can sit on a dock and watch the sunset just a few hundred yards from where I sat and watched the sunset on my grandfather's dock so many years ago. 



Perhaps we will canoe or kayak down the river past the little islands where part of me still believes that Tarzan or perhaps dinosaurs and definitely pirate treasure can be found. 

And I can walk down the white sand roads 


that I walked as a child to find this place almost sixty years ago, abandoned, left to the jungle, as wild and mysterious to me as anything that Indiana Jones might have discovered.

I feel like I'm dreaming. 

And today I managed to do laundry, clean the hen house, make seven and a half more pints of pepper jelly, and begin packing. 

I will admit to you that I spent half the night awake, fretting and worrying and the other half having horrible anxiety dreams but dammit- we are going. 

So. See you from Roseland. And we shall surely visit the Atlantic so that I can hear its crash and roar, so much bolder than the Gulf which even after all these years living near, I still do not quite consider an actual ocean although I have truly come to love it. 

Oh my. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday, September 17, 2021

Flat Friday

I've taken no pictures today because really, I haven't done much today. Didn't see any grandchildren, didn't work in the garden. I did take the trash but y'all don't want to see that place although the man who was tending it was so sweet and his smile was so beautiful that if I'd been braver I would have asked if I could take his picture. 

I talked to a friend this morning and when she asked how I was doing I said, "I'm just tired." And I have been. I guess it's been a fairly busy week and I don't do busy these days. Not very well, at least. So I've just sort of rested today and been a little blue. I thought it was going to rain all day and I had been looking forward to that, thinking how that would make staying in and being lazy more acceptable but the weather widget sure didn't get that one right. We've had mostly blue skies all day long. 

It sounds funny to say that I'm disappointed at blue skies instead of rain but I have been. 

I shelled some peas and watched a few episodes of "30 Rock" which I have not watched all of. That could be my new project, right? Such a well-written show, such good characters. 

The other main thing I've done today is fret over how to make a type of enchiladas I want to make. I was inspired by a recipe that Rebecca gave as well as by my friend who popped by the other day who talked about making spinach and poblano enchiladas. I've been looking at recipes and I have finally roasted the poblanos that I got at Publix earlier in the week and I've blended those up with raw spinach but I don't really know what I'm doing so I'm just taking a bit here and a bit there from different recipes and we'll see how they turn out. With enough cheese, anything can work, I suppose. I'm not sure I'm even in the mood for them now but I had nothing else planned for supper so...

And I guess it's just been one of those days, neither here nor there, just...a day. Isn't it funny how we only get a limited number of days and yet, we spend so much time simply passing the time? I think that most of us do try to make good use of the time we have but all of us, or at least most of us, waste a goodly amount of it. 

Ah, I can't even get motivated to philosophize so you know I'm in a flat place. Not a bad place, just a flat one. Perhaps Friday martinis will make everything seem a bit bouncier. 
We shall see. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, September 16, 2021

It's Still Summer Here


 

Yesterday when Owen and I were talking, he mentioned a "lygor" and I said, "Have you ever seen "Napoleon Dynamite"? 

He had not. And so we remedied that last night. I don't know if I've ever spoken of my love for that movie here before but it truly is one of my favorites. Because it's such a low-budget film, it had to be creative and charming and clever and self-aware and self-ironic and funny and heart-touching and, well- just all of the stuff I like in a movie. The dialogue knocks me out. I think it's got some of the best lines of any movie I've ever seen. I personally love the acting. I love the characters. I love the way it gently pokes fun at stereotypes and I love the way it captures the absurdity of high school right along with the impossible tenderness of first love. 
It was probably more fun for me to watch it for the who-knows-how-many-times than it was for Owen to watch it the first time but I think he liked it. At least he stayed awake until the very end. I always forget that after ALL of the credits run, possibly the best part of the movie is still to be seen. If any of you have not seen it, I will not ruin that ending for you but I will just say that one of my favorite movie lines of all times is there. 
"Sorry I'm late. I tamed this honeymoon stallion for you."
And rather unbelievably, there is not one cuss in it. 

The pizza I made was pretty darn fantastic. I finally made the thin and crispy crust that Mr. Moon loves and the Alfredo sauce was spectacular. I made two pizzas, one with just the sauce, chicken, a few banana peppers, and some onion, and the other had spinach mixed in with the sauce and was topped with all the things the first one had plus artichoke hearts and mushrooms. 
Yeah. It was good.

After dinner and a movie, Owen took his shower and got into his very clean bed and I said, "I guess you don't need me to read 'The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza' do you?" and he said, "No. I'm tired."
I said, "I am too." and I was. But I did kiss him good-night and tuck him in. 
He is such a fine boy. 

There were pancakes this morning as there always seems to be on spend-the-night morning-afters. And after Boppy took the boy home I decided to get a little more clearing done in the garden. I swear- I am as bad at pulling the spent plants as I am pulling seedlings to thin new rows. But damn! The peppers, despite falling over and looking extremely weary are still giving forth and the peas are still making pods, plump with their sweet little morsels of protein heaven. And the zinnias!


That is the last handful of okra I'm getting. I can say this with certainty as the plants have mostly died back to sticks and those I have pulled. I think I'll cook the few I picked today with some tomatoes and onion for our supper. And I suppose I must make one more batch of pepper jam. 

But I did do some weeding and I did pull some beans and a few eggplants. It wasn't SO hot but the humidity is right around 80% and quite frankly, I'm miserable out there working in it. Mr. Moon's been pushing gravel around for hours on the little tractor-thingee he rented after he dropped off Owen. I don't know if it's a skid steer or not. I just know it has a something-something in the front and another something-something in the back. 
My observational skills are obviously lacking. But it does appear to be doing a pretty good job of moving that gravel. 
I think the man and I will sleep pretty well tonight. 

And now, not to be grim or anything, have you seen the report that at this point, one out of five-hundred Americans have died of Covid so far? And that is not counting those who died before testing was established or those who weren't, for whatever reason, counted as Covid deaths. 
My point here is not to depress anyone but in fact, to remind us all that masks are very much still necessary for all of us. And that if you have not been vaccinated, just please stay home. I found out today that my niece got the damn virus at school but thankfully, she has been vaccinated and her symptoms are no worse than those of a bad cold. Her mother who is a nurse, is furious with DeathSantis who refuses to make kids mask. As I've said before, our superintendent of schools has gone against the governor and is requiring masks for children in schools up to the age of twelve but not beyond, hoping, I suppose, that the children over twelve will have gotten their vaccinations. 
But all of them have not. Obviously. 
Here's the new Florida motto:



Be safe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, September 15, 2021

A Day Full Of Fellas


And that is what Owen looks like with his Boppy today. He's grown quite a bit, I'd say since the picture I posted yesterday of him. And he's such a great kid. He's only been here for about forty-five minutes and we've already discussed school, slavery, Native Americans, extinct tigers, "Napoleon Dynamite," pizza, and college history classes. Plus other stuff.

It's been a full day around here. Jessie brought out August and Levon. She's helping August do his virtual schooling and Levon's been having a bit of a hard time with that. He doesn't quite understand that his mother has to give her attention to August when that's going on. So while August and Jessie did schooling in the Glen Den, Levon did other things with us. 


First he and Boppy spread a little gravel around and then they decided to rent some sort of machine to make this job easier. So they spent about half an hour, researching the different options they had. This was the most fascinating thing Levon could have imagined. 


I'm not kidding. 
They decided on something and we all had leftover lunch and then Boppy went into town to pick up the machine and Levon and I read some books. I painted his nails, too. He likes his nails painted. His are now the same red as my toenails are. I noticed that Owen has black painted fingernails. Nail polish is definitely not just for girls anymore and why should it be? Our friend Billy who has a beard that goes halfway down his chest always sports polished nails and he is a great inspiration to us all. 
Anyway, Levon and I read a bunch of books while August learned some Spanish and studied a little social studies (in kindergarten!) and did some other things. So all of that was fun, at least for Levon and me and then they went home and Boppy got back without any machines because the one he'd wanted had a dent in it and they couldn't rent it like that. 
Sigh.

I picked a few more peas this morning. 


While I was waiting for Boppy to get back with Owen, I shelled a few while listening to my current audio book. I also picked more peppers and by golly I think there might be more jars of pepper jelly in my future. 
I also washed the quilt and the sheets on the bed where Owen will be sleeping tonight. Jack has used that bed recently for his naps and I want the bed to be comfy and cat-hair free. 

So that's been life around here today. It's rained a little bit and although it never got too hot, the damn humidity was so bad that it has still felt like a special sort of sticky hell. 

And now it's time to go make the pizzas. Owen has clarified that he does want a white sauce on his pizza with the chicken and Mr. Moon says that sounds good to him. The dough is rising as you can see in that picture above. I feel lucky and fortunate to be able to hang out with my grandchildren. They are all so very different in so many different ways which is absolutely the best. I told Levon today that he surely was a fine and smart little man (he had just told me that he and Boppy were thinking about renting a skid steer which until Levon got interested in heavy machinery, I had never even heard of) and he agreed that he was. Children are not apt to hide their lights under bushels and I love that about them. 

Chopping, slicing, and alfredo sauce-making shall now commence. 

Love...Ms. Moon