Long Catch-Up

Well, here we are, home again in Lloyd and I am glad to be back in my funky old house with its porch spiders and and our own bed although to be honest, the bed we slept in in the house in North Carolina was absolutely fine. I felt so at home in that house. I truly could have moved right in and been happy. Not only was it fitted out with every sweet touch you can imagine, but it also had that creek that chuckled and whispered as it ran over the rocks, a sweet, soothing sound at every hour of the day and the night. 

But you know- home is home. And you also know how much I love my home. EVEN THOUGH...

My god, it is hot. It wasn't very cool in North Carolina, either, but it wasn't hot like this. The weather widget says it "feels" like 103 but I do realize that there are plenty of places right now where it is actually 103 and probably feels like 129.

I could go into a long tirade about how much we've fucked up our planet but I don't have the energy and you already know all about it. I suppose this is one of the those times you just have to say, "We aren't going to make it, are we?"

No, darling, we are not. 

But we drove through so much green today. Green woods and green forests, green trees jungling the banks of rivers and of lakes. And many, many miles of agricultural green and I am aware that that is not the sort of green that will save the planet, even though it feeds us and clothes us. 

We had such a good trip. Here are a few pictures from our last night. The boys were so tired and so wired and everything they did was hysterical to them and of course we could not help laughing with them. 

It was a fine supper. Vergil grilled some brats made from a cousin's own home-raised pig and Jessie and I made a huge salad with everything in it and I made a salad dressing that Mr. Moon asked me to remember how to make which of course will never happen but I think I can probably sort of recreate it. It was somewhat ranch-like. 

The adults all hot-tubbed for a little while after the boys finally got to sleep but we were in bed by 10:30, knowing we had to get up early-ish to pack up, restore the house to order, and leave. 

Now I have to add something here. When you rent a vacation property from Airbnb, there is always a long list of things you need to do before you leave. They always include things like, start the dishwasher, empty all trash, strip all beds and take sheets to the laundry area. Start a load of towels. Make sure kitchen is in order. 
And more and so much more. I could not find that list in this house. Finally, on Tuesday, when we were really facing the fact that we weren't going to be living there permanently, I looked on the Airbnb app for possible instructions from our host and it said something like, "We do not expect our guests to do chores before they leave. Please just have another cup of coffee while enjoying the creek instead."

WHAT?

The woman who was our host had been the most responsive and the sweetest of all the hosts I've ever experienced. When we needed a propane tank for grilling, her husband delivered it within an hour. She answered every message I sent her in minutes. By the end of our stay, she and I were practically writing love letters to each other. And it turns out that he husband knows Vergil's stepfather and yes, it is a small world. 

So when we got up yesterday morning we did not feel quite the pressure we usually do on those check-out days, but because our host had been so damn sweet we wanted to leave the place as tidy and spotless as we could. And we did. And towels were washing and the dishwasher was running and all the garbage was bagged and all of the toys and books and games were put up and the kitchen counters cleaned. I left her a jar of my fig preserves and a love thank-you note on the dining room table. 

Sigh. 

It was hard to say goodbye to those boys and their mama and daddy but they'll be home soon. And we had disrupted their lives enough. I think the thing I will remember the most about this trip (besides the cat museum, of course) is the night I was feeling the worst with whatever I had and was in bed, reading. The boys came in the room, walked over to me, and August said, "Are you better yet?" 
"No," I said. "But I will be."

And then they both made sounds of disgust not unlike Napoleon Dynamite when he was overtaken by the complete idiocy of those around him, as if I was purposefully being sick and wimpy and no fun at all. 

So yesterday's drive was another one of our drives where we seem to get caught in some sort of back-roads matrix where time and miles lose all of their meaning. We didn't even really stop much! But we finally made it to our destination which was Oconee, Georgia where we had reserved a room at a place called The Oconee Lodge. The reviews for the place had not been great. Many of them spoke of an "odor" in the lobby area. Also, the ice machine on the third floor didn't work. And no one seemed to care very much about the guests. There was also one about how the food at the breakfast bar was okay but that the French toast sticks had not been cooked properly and then went on to instruct us all on how to cook French toast sticks by arranging them in the pan just so. 
I always take negative reviews with a grain of salt, knowing that mostly only the unhappy people bother to post them but when we walked into the lobby to discover not an odor but a STINK, I sort of had to rethink that. Was it sewage? Gas? Was the place going to explode? 

Whatever. We'd already paid and the room didn't stink and it was adequate and the best part was that it was on a lake and after we hauled all of our shit up to the room we made a drink and went down to sit outside where this was what it looked like. 

Not so bad. 

And then, hungry and frazzled and looking pretty rough but too tired to change clothes and gussy up, we drove to a restaurant that the desk clerk had recommended and oh, y'all. It was the best. 

And our server, Johnny, was the best part of all. Just the sweetest man. Before long, Glen and I were sharing that seat instead of sitting across from each other and also sharing a barbecue shrimp appetizer, a spinach salad, and a steak. We felt like teenagers on a happy date. We got a strawberry shortcake to take back to the room and Johnny asked if we had anything to eat it with. We thought about that. No, no we did not. No spoons or forks at all so he suggested that if we wanted to take a souvenir spoon with us, he would not tell anyone. 

And we did although I felt guilty. I will cherish that spoon for a long time. 

When we left, he told us that he hoped that when he is our age, he is loving life the way we do, which was sort of weird and sort of wonderful. We took it in the wonderful way. 

The shortcake was delicious. Real shortcake, fresh sliced strawberries, and whipped cream that never saw a can. And we slept like rocks. 

We never got to test the French toast strips for ourselves as it turns out that the hot breakfast is only served on weekends. We looked at the offerings of most-likely stale bagels, microwavable Jimmy Dean sausage breakfast sandwiches and plastic containers of cereal and said, "Uh. No."

And then, as with all good travelers in the south must do, we broke our fast here. 

And then we drove through all those forests and woods and fields and went through intersections that could have been the original crossroad where Robert Johnson made his deal with the devil. So many beautiful old houses, some not much more than skeletons of themselves, others maintained or restored, all with their own grace. 

And now we're home where it is hot, as I have said. Both Maurice and Jack seem to be happy we're back. The strangest thing has happened. We've had Jack for I don't know how many years and up until just a few months ago I'd never really heard his voice but suddenly, he is giving us a few very quiet meows, and he gave us some of those today. Maurice let me pat her without trying to take off my hand and they both begged for Temptations. Which of course I happily gave them. 

Hank and Rachel and Mark left the house in such good condition. There is much to do around here though, of course. Mostly outside. I took the compost out and gave the garden a quick once-over and Lord, it needs some care. Amazing what can happen to a garden in one week. I've unpacked everything but my clothes and in my case, that is the least of it. I've put away the make-up and jewelry I wore one night (the night we went out for supper in Athens) and my chargers and power strip, my books and New Yorker magazines of which I read exactly ZERO articles. I did finish a library book and then read this which I truly enjoyed.

May lent it to me a good while ago. I'd never started it but once I did, I could not stop reading. It was a great comfort when I was sick. 

All right. That's my report. Of course there is much more but this is already too long. I'd like to mention that we had supper one evening with Vergil's mama and stepfather and that was very sweet. Also, that August is playing chess now and played with his Boppy a few times. And that Glen and I have only gotten through about half of "Crazy In Alabama" and I had forgotten what a good book that is. It is about far more than a woman carrying her husband's head around in a Tupperware container. Far more. 

And that truly, it was a wonderful trip and I will mention once again how much Mr. Moon and I made each other laugh. Oh, how delicate and intricate is the dance of long-time love. The steps are slowly and sometimes painfully learned but well worth the learning as the result is more sweet and tender than anything you can imagine when you are young and falling in love. 
I do not know much but I do know this. 

Love...Ms. Moon