Saturday, February 5, 2022

A Sort Of Story, Once Again Involving Fabuloso. And Fabio, Too!

Blogger is accepting my photos again which is nice of them. That's the one I took yesterday. 

It's been another where-did-the-day-go day. It turned chilly here again and I'm feeling a little miserable. I don't know if my small miseries have anything to do with the weather or not but it's possible. It's not only chilly but just plain damp and gray, too. It's not terrible but I will tell you that every time I walk past the bed I have a visceral urge to crawl under the covers. Maurice has been sleeping ON the heat vent if that tells you anything. 

I worked some on the project that I started yesterday which is cleaning up and doing a little cleaning-out of my old office which is the room that at one time was the detached kitchen of this house. I have a lot of emotions about this room. 
Of course. 
Because all I am is a big bowl of emotions about everything. 
But in this case, there is some reason. When we moved here, the room was flat-out dedicated as my writing room. That was when I was still writing on an iMac. Remember those? The vaguely triangle shaped, candy-colored Macs? Oh, how I loved that thing. And oh, how I loved writing. That was when I had hopes of being published and I've talked about all of that before. I had an agent. She was absolutely sure she'd sell my novel. 
Blah, blah, blah. 
I wrote a few other novels on that iMac but they never got to the point where I felt they were worthy to send out. And the novel never got published. 
But my time of writing in that room was one of the best times of my life. I decorated the room with some of my very favorite things. I put up the funkiest, most whimsical, heart-loved things I owned from pictures of Johnny Weissmuller posing in his teeny loin cloth at Wakulla Springs where he shot some movies to my beloved John and Yoko calendar. A sparkly fishnet with sparkly fishes, mermaids, galore, cards and artwork that May made me. Also mementos of the plays I was in at the Opera House including my marked-up scripts and a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Fabio naked from the waist up that was a prop in the last play I was in. 
And over the years I've just stopped using that room. I don't have little kids running around interrupting my train of thought and to tell you the truth- my trains of thoughts rarely arrive at the station anymore so there is that. 
But still, it was my room. My room of one's own. 
And then when Mr. Moon started working on rebuilding his bathroom he began using that space as a place to put his tools, and the fixtures he took out of the old bathroom. Lumber, glass blocks, paint, etc., etc. 
When I tentatively complained, he said in his most common sense way- well, you're not using it. 
And no. I wasn't. He was right. 
I think most, if not all, of you women out there will understand how I felt. And he just didn't get it. 
And even after the bathroom project was finished, the room still had things in it. His things. I couldn't even open the door because it upset me so. It was too much. And then a few months ago, I let him know how this all affected me. What that room meant to me. And he cleaned his things out because really, he is a good man and sometimes I just do not let him know how I really feel about things due to...well. My entire life history, probably. 

And still, I did nothing in there. 

A few months after the great clean-out, he left his office at the Credit Union where he'd worked for several years but he still needed some office work space for his business. And he said that he'd like to use that room. Because I still wasn't using it. And at first I just got very huffy and said, "Whatever," and so on and so forth and he realized that it wasn't what I wanted at all and so we tossed around ideas and came up with the idea that once we'd moved to the smaller bedroom, he could set up his desk in what is now the guest room again, and use that space. But that requires a lot of heavy furniture moving and it just hasn't happened and finally I said, "You can use my office. It's okay." 
And I meant it. 
And yesterday I went out there to do a more thorough clean-up and I took my bucket of Fabuloso and vinegar and water and some rags and I cleaned the desk where I always worked (which had been Connie May Fowler's desk and in fact, she and her husband had put that desk in there, a built-in) and I wiped down my neglected mermaids and madonnas and the little shrine where I have some of my Sue-Sue's ashes, and pictures that my kids have drawn and pictures that I've had since I was a kid, and my heart broke and I had forgotten some of these treasures, abandoned them along with my writing dreams. 

And it was hard and it was inspiring and it was weird and it was funny and it was sad. 

There's another desk in that room that used to be in the hallway here before we got the piano. It's a big ol' honking wooden thing that we were going to move into the guest room for Mr. Moon to use and I cleaned that out today and polished it up. The drawers held other emotional triggers. Pictures from way back of me and the kids and my handsome husband and also, an entire drawerful of pictures and newspaper articles from Glen's past. 

In reality, he could definitely use that side of the room for his work and he'd only be there for small bits of time and I could use the other side with the built-in desk if I want to try again. It would be still my room. But here's a thing- the electricity in that room is not working. I think that probably mice or squirrels have chewed through some wires and so that's going to require some work. Also, our router doesn't do squat out there so there's no internet. Which means it's all rather a moot point, doesn't it? 

That's what's been going on here and so I am feeling a lot of different things but overall, nothing horrible, just life. I have collards and mustard greens cooking with tomatoes and onions for our supper. It's leftover night but I wanted to bring something fresh to the table. Our pork last night was good but only because of a miracle. My pressure cooker did something I've never had a pressure cooker do which was to lose all the liquid in the pot and the bottom burned horribly. Somehow this did not affect the taste of the meat which was delicious but I thought I might lose the pot. I have decided that I must need a new gasket. God only knows how old the one I've been using is. Way over twenty years. I let the pot soak last night in soapy water and this morning when I put a knife to the black crust, it rather unbelievably  just peeled right up and my pressure cooker looks as good as new. 

Here's a picture of that focaccia I made the other night.

Is that not a thing of wonder and beauty? 

And here's a picture of Magnolia and Gibson that Lily just sent. 

They all went out to visit Lauren's aunt and uncle today and horseback riding was involved! Can you imagine Maggie's joy? 

Rachel is feeling better. We all get on with it the best we can, don't we? Whether we do that with recoveries, discoveries, or just plain plodding, we get on with it. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. "I think most, if not all, of you women out there will understand how I felt." Yes indeed.

    Sounds like quite a day, all in all.

    That focaccia is a glory! Glad Rachel is healing well.

    Chris from Boise

  2. I think you had one idea of authoring to reach the masses and in the meantime you created your blog, a masterpiece, which for me at least is my one daily read. I am not shitting you one bit when I say I would pay major money for a printed boxed set of your blog posts.

    1. Can you imagine the number of volumes that would take? Lord have mercy. Thank you, though, for those sweet words.

  3. Sometimes we move on from the writing and sometimes the writing moves on from us.

  4. Your room will still be there the next time it needs renovated. My mouth drools at the sight of all those cherry tomatoes.

    1. I get those cherry tomatoes at Costco. I very large container of them costs less than seven dollars. I have been known to go there simply to pick up tomatoes.

  5. Replies
    1. And thanks for the camellias!

    2. We need to get someone out here to look at the internet anyway. We do have problems with it.

  6. I'm sad you have lost your room, even though you weren't using it, it still was "your space" and everyone needs one of those. Perhaps you can carve out another "your space" in some other part of the house, where your router works. That focaccia almost looks like a pizza.

    1. The focaccia does indeed look like a pizza, doesn't it? I think of it as a sort of primitive pizza. A peasant pizza.

  7. When it comes to writing, I don't give out praise just to make someone feel good. I spent all my working life studying writing, assessing it, suggesting improvements and so on and I will tell you this Mary Moon, you are in possession of genuine talent. And I would also say this about the writing room - Why give it so much heed? Just get on with your writing. Those novels you wrote in the past - I hope you did not delete them. Revisit the best one and revise it. It is almost certainly better than you remember but crying out for revision like a neglected child.

    1. Oh, well. First of all, thank you, Mr. P. That meant a lot coming from you. Truly. The novel I liked the best is so dated now. It would be a period piece of sorts. So- it's day has passed. I might open up the other ones, see what's there. I still have them. Thank you.

  8. I absolutely get that about need your own space, your own nest, if you like, and even if you don't use it it still needs to be yours!

  9. I imagine your house to be exactly what I've always imagined a grandma's house to be, full of treasures and memories. My parents always moved, my dad was in the Air Force, so not a lot of stuff. And my mum came to Canada with only her clothes, so not a lot of stuff. I never knew my grandparents but I would love to have had a grandma like you and a house like yours to visit.

    I agree with Mr. Pudding. I write to sort shit out. You write to tell a story and you have a gift for it.

    Sending hugs.

    1. Oh, I do have a lot of treasures! And the kids do like them. They feel familiar to them now, of course. I can remember certain objects from my grandparents' house and they didn't even have that much in the way of doo-dads. But the things I remember were very precious to me. I have a few things of theirs.
      I write to sort shit out, too! Thank you.

  10. It's funny that you called it "my room of one's own," because that's exactly what I was thinking -- Virginia Woolf! It's great that you feel you can share the space but I can also understand needing your own space that's just yours. In any case, I hope you get it sorted out to everyone's satisfaction. (That wiring problem sounds potentially scary!)

    Whatever you do, just keep writing!

    I'm jealous of the horseback riding. I haven't done that in years and years.

    1. Yeah. There are definitely road blocks to either one of us using it. I know that squirrels and mice have made homes in the ceiling. And...who knows where?
      Of course I'll keep writing. I can't stop.
      You rode horses? That's so cool!

  11. You are a great writer, Ms. Mary Moon, and I enjoy your work everyday. Your posts are so wonderful and wherever you sit when you write them, that is a space that is working for you!

    1. Thank you, Ellen. I appreciate that so very much. I'm lucky to have such a fine house with so many places to be in it. Funny- I mostly write on my back porch. It is where I love to be.

  12. Yes, we all just plod on because what's the alternative? Lay down and just give up? If your room was the original detached kitchen, is it still detached? Just a room? I understand how having a space of your own, whether you use it or not, is important. I don't think I'd have gotten much cleaning done, to busy tripping down memory lane.

    1. Yes, the kitchen is still detached. It is just a room but a rather large one.
      I did NOT get a whole lot of cleaning done. More a bit of tidying and wiping things down. It desperately needs a good sweeping and mopping too. And there's a chaise longe in there that needs to go. Our old dog Pearl tried to make a cave in it. She almost did.

  13. Oh Mary, my heart. You are processing something, your creative life, you are in the throes of getting to someplace new in your writing life, and birthing new stages of our lives is always hard. I love how you're thinking, though. I have a couple of thoughts: 1) If you were to just ask your beautiful man to get the electricity and internet fixed to work in your writing room, he would do it, because he would have absolute clarity that this is what would please you. 2) I love that you're thinking you both can use the room. I love looking up from working and seeing my husband there, doing his own thing. It gives me a feeling of such peace. However, why not ALSO use the guest room, put a little table in there and mix it up, let the muse follow you around. I'm sending you a great big hug as you work though all this. You are on a journey, allow it to just lead where it will. I love you. Happy to hear Rachel is on the mend.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.