So I guess I'm a little bit sick. Not very. Just a little bit. I did not sleep well last night and I'm congested and achy although I don't think I have a temperature but I haven't done much at all today. The main thing I haven't done is to deal with the protection of my porch plants. I think that Mr. Moon may have to actually be the one to scoot those things closer to the wall of the porch. Some of those pots are just so huge. It's very hard to believe that we're actually going to get this fierce weather they keep forecasting. We've been warned about high winds, thunderstorms, hail, and then dropping temperatures. So far it's barely drizzled today and it's humid and about seventy degrees.
I feel like I should apologize for talking so much about the weather lately but weather is a big deal to us as I have said.
I caught up on the daily crosswords I haven't been able to finish because of time constraints for the last few days and did a few loads of laundry. And Wordle, of course. Best five minutes of my day.
No. That's a lie. The best five minutes of my day are when I get in bed and open my book.
I went out to pick greens and gather eggs. Violet is still laying her tiny little eggie.
I haven't been finding as many eggs recently and I'm a bit suspicious that I have wily hens laying them someplace else to sit on. I hope not as it's one thing to have a hen brood in the hen house, another entirely to have one brood outside somewhere less protected. I have seen that scenario come to grief more than once. If only I could post a list of instructions for them to read and follow. But they are like cats in that they will do what they want where they want and my thoughts on these matters are of no concern to them.
Maurice just gave me a look. I am pretty sure she can read my mind.
A Facebook and real friend messaged me this morning that Keith Richards is going to be on the CBS Sunday Morning News Show this weekend. I am not sure how she knows of my obsession with the dear boy but she must. I will watch it, of course. The Stones are about to announce another tour in Europe this summer and Keith has a re-release happening of an album of his made with his "other" group, The Expensive Winos so I'm sure he's out flogging the product. Which delights me. Last night he and the Wino boys and Ivan Neville played at a benefit in NYC and I've watched some of the footage.
I've always been one to see the most beauty in different and interesting faces whether of men or of women and Keith's face just gets more interesting every day. I can appreciate the beauty of a young human as much as anyone but the older I get, the more they look like eggs to me. Eggs in the sense that they are all smooth and relatively perfect, different in some ways but life has not yet had its chance to carve the faces into the essence of who that person is, as unique and as different as the lives they've led.
Of course, if someone offered me the chance to get rid of certain aspects of the results of my aging, I might take them up on it but maybe not. It seems like such a painful and weird thing to do. And no one's paying me to be pretty. But I'd be lying if I did not admit that I miss the way I used to look.
Ah well. Such is life.
And say what you will about the ancient dinosaurs we call the Rolling Stones. Yes. They look old. Guess what? They fucking are. And they earned each and every wrinkle, crag, crevice, droop, and gnarl they have. I hope they are proud of those faces carved by their lives, the joys and excesses and passions and years. They sure should be.
And in a way, they help me to be more accepting of mine.