Homecoming

That's what the sky and gulf looked like this morning when I got up. I knew it was packing-up day and I do not like packing-up day. I do not like packing for the trip or unpacking when the trip is over, either. This is enough to make me really have to want to go somewhere to make it worthwhile. The skies we've seen this past week alone have been packing-worthy. It looked like it was finally settling down as we were leaving- the sea flatter than it had been since we got there. I did not see one person in the water the whole time we were there. The constant rip current warnings probably had something to do with that. 

I'd mostly packed up the kitchen last night and it really wasn't that big a deal to get everything else loaded up this morning. We stopped by the realty agency from which we'd rented on our way off the island and presented the woman behind the desk with our keys and a list of the issues we'd found at the house that really need to be dealt with. These ranged from not being able to get out of the door to the top balcony to there being not one piece of outdoor furniture on the lower deck that wasn't cracked. Some of the chairs were even missing legs. 
Not classy.
Lights that didn't work. A toilet that was iffy. Blinds that didn't work. Etc. The house was fine, really, but when you're paying Plantation prices you should get at least get access to the best beach-viewing place in the house. And have chairs that are safe to sit in when you're on the deck. 
The lady wrote everything down and then most likely threw the list away. 
Ah well. 

We stopped in Eastpoint and had breakfast at the Mexican restaurant. Which was good, as always. 

Then the drive home. I read some of the car-trip book we've not yet finished from our trip to NC out loud and I swear, it seemed like it only took a half hour to get home. 

Home. Oh, my beloved little nest. 

Look what I found when I walked into the kitchen. 

I knew that Jessie and the boys and Vergil had all come out to the house to check on the cats and I thought that Vergil was doing something for Glen having to do with figuring out a way to put up some siding on the house in a place that needs it. Turns out, though, that what Vergil had really been doing was...

Well. Setting up this.

I saw a ton of boxes in the dining room and said, "What the heck is all going on here?" And then I turned around and there was a brand new turntable. Stereo. Record player. Whatever. Thing you can play real vinyl records on. 

I cried. I literally did cry. 
Vergil helped Glen shop for it, and Jessie and the boys unboxed everything and then Vergil set it up. I am so thrilled. 

I waited until I had everything brought in from the car and put away, and a load of laundry started before I played it. And I've still only listened to half of it. I am saving/savoring it. The stereo sounds great. 
There's also a blue-tooth function where I can put the record on and then listen through my airpods while going about my life in the house if I want. This, of course, may or may not be utilized but I have paired the speakers with my phone. 
My Lord. 
Who could ever have imagined such technology back in the olden days when I was listening to the Stones on my wooden radio with the Bakelite dials? 
You know, Boomers get a lot of shit for being...well, Boomers. But you know what? We've really had to learn and adapt to so much in the last twenty years that the Gen-Whatevers have pretty much grown up with. Our Boomer brains just don't have those same grooves but we learn. We do adapt. And by the way- didn't our generation invent a lot of that technology? Initially, at least. 

Well. Enough of that. This album was recorded the old fashioned way and as Keith said, it was really meant for vinyl to hear it properly and all that's old is new again, as dear Joanne says. 

From what I've listened to so far, I really like it. I think Mick Jagger had some angry ya-ya's to get out when he was writing a lot of these songs. And that's okay. I will tell you that I was quite impressed with Paul McCartney's fuzz-bass playing on "Bite My Head Off". It's serious kick-ass bass. 

So. Friday night and we are home. It was a lovely time away and being at the beach always satisfies and feeds my soul like nothing else. The ever-changing sky and water, the sound of the waves and the palm fronds rustling in the wind. Strangely enough, I think that my two favorite things about the whole week, excluding just being with my sweetheart and celebrating us, was that few minutes down by the bay in the little estuarine park, listening to and watching a mockingbird singing his heart out, and watching Brad helping Mr. Moon fish. 

Gosh. I must be getting old. And that is okay. 

The cats are fine. Jack showed up immediately after we got home and accepted our love and apologies. Maurice, on the other hand, stayed away long enough for us to worry a bit. But she has just shown up, acting as if she wants a little affection. 

Right after I took that picture, she tried to bite me. 

I expected nothing more. Or less. 

Mr. Moon has gone to a celebration of life for a friend's daughter who died by suicide this week. He has grieved for his friend since he heard the news and absolutely had to be there. A beautiful seventeen year old girl. 

Oh, let us be kind to each other. Let us say something sweet to everyone we can. Let us smile at friends and strangers in such a way that says I am human and you are human too, and because of that, we both inevitably struggle, but for this second, in this place and time, we are two humans together and I see you. 

I see you. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon