Lily sent that picture to our group text last night. She said she'd gone to tuck Maggie into bed and that's what she found. And no, Maggie does not wear glasses but I assume that whoever she was being at that moment did. That child's imagination is a rich and fertile country.
Mr. Moon and I are both moaning and bitching this evening. He's having muscle cramps in places he didn't know he could have muscle cramps. I just hurt. He worked in the woods most of the day doing...I have no idea. Something that involves getting ready to hunt. Tomorrow bow-hunting season begins and although he just told me that he is not at all interested in going out in this heat with all of the mosquitoes to hunt, he feels like he has to help the other two guys that hunt on this particular piece of land. I don't understand any of it. What I do know is that the actual hunting is about five percent of what they do and that the politics of property and hunting etiquette are mysterious and unknowable to me. Which is fine for all concerned. But it was hot and muggy today and I can't believe the men worked outside all the hours they worked, but I guess they did, including the really older guy who goes by the name of Odell.
Odell sounds like a character. Perhaps not a very pleasant character, but a character.
If you know Odell, don't tell him I said that. Please.
So when Glen got home he was hungry and a little grumpy and he took his shower and sat down in his chair to eat the lunch I made for him and I think he's been mostly dozing in there, only waking up when he gets the damn cramps.
Now I just worked in the garden for a few hours and that was enough to do me in. But I did get all the sweet potatoes pulled and a lot of weeds, too.
Those are the sweet potatoes I got today. Not a huge harvest by any means, but considering that I did not plant them this year in the first place and also that I probably left about fifty pounds of them in the ground, not so bad. I really have the barest inkling of what I'm doing when it comes to growing sweet potatoes. I planted them one year and they've been coming back every year since. That's been about four years now. You'd think I'd know a little more about the process by now but I don't.
Anyway, I got hot as hell and although I can kneel on my knees again, my left one gives me fits and my lower back screams at me when I've been bending over pulling weeds for awhile. I did not get ant-bit today which was a good thing. I came across a nest of huge red ants but was able to avoid it.
Bitch, bitch, bitch.
So we're limping and, like I said, moaning, and I'm hoping that martinis perk us up a little bit. I've been making what amount to be Thanksgiving dinners every night lately and we're going to have leftover gumbo tonight. I did just put a dutch oven full of sourdough dough in the oven so that will be new. I started the dough this morning and I broke every rule in the Sourdough Book of the Bread, and yet I think it's going to be pretty good. I don't even want to tell you how I made it. I mean, I didn't commit any mortal sins like adding yeast to it (I cannot say I've never done that before) or sugar or...well, whatever. But I did not handle it correctly, the starter was not freshly fed, and the Kitchen Aid was involved.
I am not Rebecca. She is the queen, the artisan goddess, the dough whisperer, the...well, we've discussed this. But I really can't get over what her loaves look like, especially compared to mine. And I am content to sit at her feet.
Martinis have been made. Clean sheets are on the bed. I hung the laundry out on the line and before it was fully dried, it began to rain so I ran outside to take it down and by the time I was back in the house, it had quit and the sun was out again.
Oh well. I finished up the drying in the handy drying machine. At least it will have that sun and air smell. And quite frankly, I could probably happily sleep on a dog bed tonight.
Happy Friday, y'all.