We're All Over The Map With This One

First things first. I got this e-mail today and I feel somewhat stunned that something happened so fast. I really hope no one got fired. I would feel terrible if that had happened. I would never want to take anyone's livelihood away from them. 
Unless it was the racist asshole who used to work at the dump but that was a different situation. 

Anyway, boom! Done! Have I gone back to see if the materials are still there? No. I have not. 

I didn't do much of anything today. I slept late, I spent way too much time reading blogs and doing the crossword and okay, okay, looking at reels on FB. That is becoming a total time suck in my life and I need to STOP IT! Why are the bad things so addicting and the good things so...not?
Well, some good things are but not exercise or eating totally healthy and stuff like that. 

It looks like Lon and Lis are coming over tomorrow evening to spend the night and help celebrate my birthday. I am so excited. I can't remember the last time we got to spend time with those darlings. For a very long time now, well over a year, they have been taking care of a relative who has had serious health problems. And when I say "taking care" I mean that their entire lives have been dedicated to her treatment and recovery. But she is doing better now and is back in her own house and so they have a little more time to travel and so forth. 
When Lis called me to tell me that they were thinking about coming over, she insisted that I do not lift a finger in preparation for their arrival and I promised that all I'd do is change the sheets on their bed and honestly, that's about all I've done. And I washed the quilt and the pillow shams too. All the towels are clean and due to Candie's efforts, the bathrooms are presentable and the floors are not a sin. And honestly- what we're going to be doing is having martinis and eating a delicious dinner that I am very much looking forward to cooking. And laughing and talking and laughing some more and if I know Lis and me, perhaps a few tears. 

Tomorrow at noon I am meeting up with Hank and Rachel, Lily and her children and perhaps (hopefully) Lauren at the Mexican restaurant in Monticello and then we'll all probably go to Wag the Dog and search for thrift treasures. What a great birthday outing! This is going to be the best birthday ever. 

Speaking of birthdays, here's what Magnolia made for her Boppy's birthday. 

I need to get a frame for that. I love it so much! The sequins just set off the popsicle sticks so nicely. I asked Owen what he thought it might be (don't tell Maggie I asked that) and he said, "I think it's just a Magnolia art thing." I think he's right. 

As I was tidying up the guest room today which included arranging the dolls and Babar and the owl in the cradle, I thought to myself, "Mary, how long are you going to keep toys around this house?" 

There are also two giant bears who live on the love seat in the library and toys in the Glen Den that the children have so outgrown. 

Let's not even discuss the shelves of children's books I have. A few of them are not too young for my grandchildren but many of them are and how many kids want to read Dr. Doolittle books now? Or The Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew or "The Little Princess"? Or one of my dearest, favorite books of all times which is "Hitty: Her First Hundred Years". My copy was given to my mother for Christmas in 1938 by her older brother, Jimmy. How can a story about a doll carved from wood compete with things like Transformers and Marvel Heroes and Dog Man or Disney Princesses? Even with pictures like this. 

I am not, however, going to moan about children today. We all live in the world in which we are born and that's all there is to it. Just because I loved something as a child, does not mean that my grandchildren will have any interest in it at all. I can remember how very, very ancient my grandparents seemed to me and how meaningless and mysterious so many of the things they enjoyed were in my opinion. 
Horehound candy anyone? 

But back to the question I asked myself- how long will I continue to keep these things, these toys and books as if they were a shrine to the childhoods of me, my children, and my grandchildren?

I do not know. And I guess that I don't have to figure it out right now while can still find pleasure in tucking up the dollies that Maggie did play with last week and handling the books that have given me so much pleasure in my life. Which indeed, some of them probably had a part in saving my life when I was so young and my life was so strange and so frightening and reading allowed me to be in an entirely different place and time, a place and time that was safe and cozy and where the Little Women loved each other and had a mother and a father who cherished and cared for them even through the darkest days. 

I suppose birthdays are always a time to look back and remember. To be nostalgic, to look at and wonder at the way the path has been traveled from there to here. And going back to Roseland does the same for me so...here I am. 

Mr. Moon is just now back on land. They caught some beautiful fish including mahi and a huge triple tail that Glen himself reeled in. A triple tail is a most delicious fish, probably because its diet consists of shrimp, crabs, and baitfish. The man won't be back for hours, I'm sure, because of all the work that must be done when a day's fishing is completed. He will be, as he always is after a day on the water, exhausted but so very happy. 

The garden is about done for the summer. I picked a few more crowder peas today and also these two lovely bell peppers.

There were more peppers but I'm letting them stay where they are for now, hoping that some of them turn red. The chocolate-colored one is small but pretty. At least I think. The tomatoes are done. There is no doubt about that. The green beans are too. The cucumbers never did much. The zinnias are still bringing joy to this world. Or at least my world. 

I shelled the peas I've picked and will cook some tomorrow night. As I carefully ran my thumbnail down the seams of their pods and urged the peas out into a bowl, I watched another episode of "Reservation Dogs" which I am so loathe to be finished with that I will only allow myself one episode every few days. It was beautiful. Graham Greene was in it and I have been in love with that man since "Dances With Wolves." 

He is older now and thus, more beautiful. 

Which reminds me. It's another beautiful older man's birthday today. 

Happy 81st birthday, Mick Jagger. And I thank you with all of my heart for not getting that face altered to try and look younger. Your body and your voice and your presence do that for you. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not A Bad Day At All

This house is about six houses down from where I live. No one's lived in it since I moved here twenty years ago and the deterioration of it has proceeded slowly over that time. But then the roof began to peel away and that is generally the end of a house. Since then, the decaying process has accelerated and now windows are falling out and it has taken on a bit of a slant, the bones of the house slowly shifting and losing their integrity not unlike what happens to us humans as we age. It's not so bad yet but I have a feeling that even if someone wanted to restore the house it would be more of a challenge than most people would want to take on. Once water starts getting in, the damage is inevitable. 

I took another walk today and I have decided that the key to motivating myself is to dump the all or nothing attitude. If I tell myself that all I'm going to do is walk two miles, that sounds less challenging than the way I've always done it which is to push and push and push myself to try and constantly increase my milage. Especially in this heat. But two miles is doable and I usually end up walking a bit farther than that. I consider it a bonus, not a goal. My goal is simply to get up and out and move for awhile and be grateful that I can. So I walked west toward Harvey's and then turned around and passed our house again and went on to the downtown Lloyd route, which includes Main Street which looks like this. 

Hey! At least it's paved! The fally-down house is on the right although you can't see it in this shot. 

Another bonus of only walking two miles or so is that I can do the whole thing without having to stop to pee. Mostly. Today I just couldn't. Well, I probably could have but I would have been so miserable. So I darted down the little path near the big Baptist church where I sometimes stop and where I had one of the most absurd and hilarious experiences of my life. You can read about that HERE if you'd care to. The path today was as grown-over as it was almost a year ago when I wrote that post, once again looking as if no one ever went down it. This time, however, I made sure there was no trail cam in sight before I ducked down into the weeds. However, because I did stop there, I saw these. 

Elderberries! I know that elderberries are prized for their supposed health benefits and can also be used for pies and jams. I have never used them in my cooking although they did look fairly luscious hanging there from those rhubarb-red stems. At least I know where they are in case I would like to try. 
And I turned around to find another sort of berry.

These are immature beauty berries and many of you have heard me talk about them for years. They seem late in ripening this year but I could be wrong. They, too, can be used to make jams and jellies and one year I actually used some for that purpose. 
The results were fairly unimpressive. But the color of the jam was gorgeous, just as the color of the berries are when they ripen. They are a sort of mauve that just pleases me immensely. 

I stopped at the Post Office on my way home and Keisha was there and another postal clerk who seemed to be mentoring her about how to do certain things. There were fewer offending materials on the work counter today and they had all been pushed up into a few piles. I did not say a word. I have not heard back from the USPS since the second email I got from them saying that they'd gotten my e-mail and would be getting back to me ASAP. But anyway, here's a thing about me- I think I have a bit of Prosopagnosia which is commonly known as face-blindness. I am not one of those people who would not recognize her husband if she met him on the street BUT a lot of my ability to differentiate one person from another is based on hair (color and style) and body type. Style of dress can be a clue too. So. The woman who was helping Keisha today is not the same woman I talked to the other day...I THINK! This woman, the woman today, has neck tattoos which is a pretty darn handy ID'er. Right? And I've always liked her and she has always been very helpful. But was that the clerk I saw two days ago? The one I almost got into a fight with? 
I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! 

Oh Jesus. I feel so stupid. 
Anyway, I asked again about anyone finding a walking stick and no, no one had, but I should perhaps look in the PO dumpster? I did that and it was not there. 

Dammit. 

When I started writing this post, the sky was mostly blue with a few puffy white clouds, la-la-la, and then suddenly, a giant boom of thunder sounded and now it is pouring rain with more thunder and forks of lightening. I am not shocked. Again- this is Florida. 

Mr. Moon is again off to the coast for early-morning fishing. Maurice is far more worried than I am. I have no idea why she worries so much when he's gone. I'm the one who feeds her. I suppose it's possible that she really loves him. I think I am going to make a tofu and vegetable stir fry for myself. That sounds good to me. I found out that the fish I used to make the dip was a combination of grouper, snapper, and cobia and I highly recommend that mixture. It has only gotten better today. 

I did the hem on my silk dress. 

But I decided that I am going to take it to the seamstress, to get it altered as to size. It is too beautiful a garment for me to mess around with and fuck it up. Debby, from Life's Funny Like That , said in a comment yesterday that if I loved the dress that much, it deserves to be taken to the seamstress. 
She is completely right. And so I shall. 

Oh my goodness. We've gotten so much rain the past hour that we have standing water in the back yard, side yard, and front yard. 

And having said that, the rain has slackened and the birds are talking about it in no uncertain terms. 

I love where I live. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title Springs To Mind

I think I actually took that photo on Monday. It's the same Golden Orb Weaver I shot before who has made her web by the mailbox. This picture shows her web though, and you can easily see how this spider got her name. The webs are indeed golden, especially noticeable when the sun shines through them. 

I am SO tired this evening and I didn't even do much. Didn't take a walk, didn't work in the garden. I did something that took some emotional energy though and this shows how weird I've become. A few months ago I went through an online dress-buying spree. I mean, it wasn't too crazy or manic behavior or anything like that. But two of the dresses that I got that I did truly love did not fit me. One of them was actually new, rather than from eBay. I loved the sort of Indian print of the dress. It's all cotton, a heavy gauze, really, and it was just too big. I couldn't return it because it had been on sale. I can sew but some things I don't tackle because unlike Liz over at Field and Fen, I am not what you'd call a natural seamstress. I've always sewed by patterns and whenever I've tried to alter anything myself it's just gone wrong. So I'd vowed to take it to a real seamstress to get it altered because it's just too pretty to stash in the closet and forget about, and knowing I'm about to go to Roseland, I really wanted to get it done so I could take it with me. It's the kind of dress you can wear anywhere from the beach to dinner. But doing things like taking a garment to be altered is one of those things I have a mental block about. It's a little like going to the doctor although not nearly as bad. 
HOWEVER, I did it today. I took it to a lady who's had a shop right near Lily's Publix forever. She does alterations and makes fancy dresses too, especially for children. Like Quinceanera dresses. When I walked into the shop, she was sitting in the back, bent over her sewing machine and said, "Hello!" and then asked me directly if I needed to change and I said, yes, I did, and she pointed to a dressing room where I took the dress I was wearing off and put on the one that needed altering. She had me stand with my arms out and she pinned the dress in about twenty-eight seconds and said, "Okay!" and I changed back, gave her the dress and it will be ready on Monday, no problem. We are leaving on Tuesday and I am very excited to have that dress. I don't think it looks especially good on me because nothing looks especially good on me these days but it will be a cheerful thing to wear and cool, as well. 
Done! I felt incredibly relieved to have done that. 

I got another dress during that period of time when I went a little crazy and it, too, was too big, but it was from eBay and there was a no-return policy from this seller. I had so looked forward to getting this dress because it was a Johnny Was dress and for those of you who do not know, Johnny Was clothing is almost painfully beautiful in terms of fabric and often embroidery. Funky elegance. And this dress was pure silk. 
When it came I was so disappointed in the fit. I think I described it in a previous post by saying that when I put it on I felt like a child, wearing my mother's night gown. But here, too, the print was so fabulous and the silk felt so luxurious. And I'm not sure why but I gave up on even thinking that it could be altered although I'm sure it could be. 
However, this afternoon I took it out and tried it on and yes, it is too big but mostly it's too long and so I am going to take care of that which is within my capabilities. 

I may end up wearing it as a nightgown. I don't know. But dammit- I am going to wear this dress. Look at the border of the fabric on the hem.

You can bet I'm going to incorporate that when I shorten the dress and I think I have a method figured out which won't even involve any cutting. We shall see. 

And another thing I did today was to make about a vat of smoked fish dip. Have you ever had smoked fish dip? It is a fine thing to eat on crackers or even as a sandwich or if you must, with a spoon. Mr. Moon had a bunch of fish ribs that are usually thrown away but he just did not want to do this. And please don't ask me what sort of fish they were. I do not know. They were smoked. And after he smoked the fish, he carefully removed it from the bones and filled up a large bowl with the meat which I then turned into the dip. This involves a food processor, onions, Old Bay seasoning, hot sauce, Worcester sauce, soy sauce, cream cheese, mustard, a little mayonnaise, a little sour cream, and lemon juice. 
I made essentially four food-processor portions of the stuff, mixed it all together in a large bowl, and now it's in the refrigerator. It's pretty good stuff and the fish did not go to waste. 
Owen was here while I was making it as he and his Boppy are working together today on a new door for Owen's room which is quite the project. I got to talk to Owen for a long time while Glen watched youtube videos on how to do what he wanted to do and then the two of them went over to Tom's where they are borrowing his workshop. I sent a container of the dip with them to Tom and also a larger one for Owen's family. 
I still have a LOT of fish dip. 

And that is what I did today. 

I know this is all pretty boring but it is what it is. 

Here's a picture that came up in my memories the other day. 

I keep looking at it and every time I do, my heart swells a little bit more. That was when August was just a bitty boy and he loved his grandfather so much that he called himself, "Little Boppy." 

I miss that boy and his brother too. We'll be seeing them soon. I bet they've grown at least three inches apiece since we left North Carolina. But August will always be Little Boppy to me. 

I am the luckiest woman in the world. 

Love...Ms. Moon

At Least I Had A Long Walk

What a day! 

Going to the old, almost hidden cemetery was a nice part of it. But here- let me give you an idea of the way my morning went by telling you what I told Lis on the phone this morning when she called me as I was walking- "Sometimes I just hate this country!"
To which she replied, "This is why we don't walk around with blow torches in our pockets."

I started out by taking a walk. And when I went to take my walk I realized that the walking stick I've had for years which Mr. Moon made for me and which is perfect, was not here. I do believe I left it yesterday in the post office when I got so dang angry about the religious materials. So I decided to start my walk by going there to see if indeed I had left it behind and when I got there, it was nowhere in sight but the offending Jesus books were. Keisha wasn't there today but another woman who sometimes takes over the duties at the Lloyd office was, and after I asked her if anyone had found a walking stick and she said no, I said, "So, you know these religious materials out here are illegal to have in a post office, right?"
"I don't know anything about that," she said. "People just leave them there for other people to take home."
"Doesn't matter how they got there," I said. "It's illegal."
"I never heard of that," she said. "They don't bother me."
"Well, they bother me," I said, and repeated that they were illegal. "Look it up!" I told her. 
"I don't have time for that." Said the lady who was on a personal phone call when I walked in. 
She claimed she'd call her boss but I bet you a good amount of money she won't. I did not want to get into a screaming altercation so I left and was determined to find out where I could email a complaint which I did when I got home. 
But we're not there yet. 
As I soon as I walked out of the post office I turned to go north, which is not the way I usually go but that meant that I passed the house right across from the dump where the owners have two large flags adorning the gate posts of their lovely estate (that's sarcasm) which are upside down which is "secret code" for "Stop the Steal" and other Trump-supporting related bullshit. And by then, I was just simmering. Which did not hurt my walking pace! 
So I walked down to the road that leads to the horse farm, the road Miss Shelley lives on, a road which I have not been on in a long time but which is mostly populated by some of our Black neighbors where I settled down because they certainly do not have Trump signs of any sort in their yards. And it's a nice road. I decided to go visit the graveyard while I was there and so I did and that's where I took that picture up top. Here are a few more.

It's a tiny cemetery and as you can see, goes back to 1819. I am so curious about the Willie family who seems to be mostly buried there. What were their lives like? It's a sweet, shady place and I would not mind at all if my ashes were scattered there with my mortal remains near Eddie Boy's. 

And then I walked in the opposite direction to head down a path I always used to take through the woods which winds back to the old gas station across the street from the old truck stop (this is how we describe landmarks around here) which is on the road that leads me home. 
I had not taken that path in forever. It used to be well worn. It is no longer and in fact, I had to go by faith and instinct to get to the right cut off. I was wading through knee high weeds and grass but it wasn't so bad. And then I got to the back of the old gas station and I knew that someone had bought that property and I also knew there was a gate leading into and out of it but for some reason, I thought that it was one of those gates that you could, if you wanted to, go around on the side and indeed it was but there were trees mashed up against that part making it impossible. I could have climbed over the fence but come on- I am less than a week away from seventy. In a cow pasture, I would have been more apt to do it but this was right out in public on a main thoroughfare. I decided to cut through some pretty gnarly bushes to get to where I could exit the property and I did but good Lord, it was a mess. Briars, brambles, stickers, blackberries, vines that grabbed...you get the picture. I need to start walking with a machete in my pocket. If not a blow torch. I was sweating so hard that one of my ear pods fell out (yes, my ears sweat too) and I thought, "Well, okay, that's the cherry on top of the cowgirl," but I found it and somehow managed to get to the main road relatively unscathed except for scratches on my legs and arm. I was being stubborn and refused to backtrack all the way through the weeds and down the road which would been another mile. 
I WAS NOT IN THE MOOD!

By the time I got home, I was bloody and sweaty and the color of a tomato. A Cherokee Purple tomato to be exact. I told Mr. Moon about my adventures and then I cooled off and then I went out to the garden and picked peas because I am tough. I am becoming as tough as an old pair of work boots. 
Which I also resemble at this point. 

And then I suggested to Glen that we go to the river and the day completely turned around because we did. There weren't very many people there and the ones who were were mostly well-behaved. Okay, there was a group of teen-aged boys and they did act like teen-aged boys but that was tolerable. 

We brought our old people folding canvas rocking chairs and put up an umbrella and we were set. We would get up and go dip in the freezing cold water and then return to our chairs and rock for a little while. As it always does when we're there on a summer afternoon, it started looking like rain with the sky getting gray and after awhile, a wind came up and the temperature dropped and the sky opened up and it began to pour down with drops as big as nails and everyone scrambled to get their things gathered and into their cars and off we all went, laughing and drenched in our shared adventure. 

Before that happened though, this dragonfly decided to perch on the back of my chair. 

I don't think I've ever seen a red dragonfly before. It was gorgeous. And then the funniest thing happened. I was showing Glen that very picture on my phone because the detail is pretty nice and as I was holding up my phone to show him...

Mr. Red Dragon decided to come and take a look himself. 
"Hold still!" Glen said and he took that picture. And then the beautiful creature flew away, having no idea that he had been a very sweet and magical part of my day. 

Back to the Post Office situation. As I said, I found a web site from which to lodge a complaint which I did and I've already gotten two notices via e-mail that my complaint was received and will be given the attention it deserves. 
Sure. 

I won't even bore you with the details of how Mr. Moon's lost phone has still never arrived here despite being informed by Dollar Rent A Car AND Fed Ex that it had been shipped via overnight delivery. And that was the end of the tracking history. 

Sigh. 

What a funny world we live in. Well, I try to see it as funny but mostly it's a good idea that I don't carry a blow torch (or a machete) in my pocket. 

And I'm still really pissed at myself for losing my beloved walking stick.

Love...Ms. Moon

Tell Me What You Want, What You Really, Really Want

This plant grows in my neighbor's yard. It is known as abelia and I love its tiny flowers, the way the pink and the brown and the green all go together so sweetly. It is a member of the jasmine family. I first became familiar with it when I moved to Tallahassee and lived in a house with two other people, one of whom was a pianist in the music department of FSU who took me under her strong and beautiful wings and opened my eyes to so many things, including the abelia which grew in our yard and which I had never even noticed. Not once. 
Thank you, Paula.

So yes, I took a walk this morning. It was only eighty-something degrees but the humidity had hit 92% which- excuse me- is it even that humid underwater? Or in a sauna? I think a lot of the humidity is due to the rains we get in the late afternoons and the turning of all that rain moisture into steam. I doubt I am saying anything here that is of groundbreaking scientific importance. 
But oh, how green everything is right now. I will take the humidity over long weeks of no rain when the resurrection fern curls up, brown and stiff and the leaves on trees droop and sag and the grass turns brown and it just feels so very, very wrong. 

There is an oak tree next door to me that is absolutely magnificent. I have written about it before. I would imagine that it is at least five hundred years old. The circumference of its trunk is enormous and its spread covers half the sky above it. 

No way for me to get any sort of accurate scale in a picture. But this morning it just seemed so powerfully alive, so vital and so strong that I had to at least try to take its picture. 

In my opinion, gods and goddesses look like this tree. Gods and goddess ARE this tree.

Speaking of a god, the Christian god in this instance, look what I found when I went into the post office today. 

This enrages me. It is not unusual to find a stack of Christian themed pamphlets in there but this is so over the top that I can't believe it. The Lloyd post office is very small. You walk in and on your right and straight ahead of you are boxes with the old-fashioned dial locks on them, on the wall to the far right past the boxes on that side is the counter where the postal worker sells stamps or puts postage on packages or whatever, and on the left wall, is that two-level counter. There is also a trash can. That's it. And to find that counter completely covered with a veritable library of White Jesus books pushed me over the edge. 

First off, it's illegal. Look it up. I did. It is illegal to display or distribute religious materials in a United States Post Office, punishable by up to 30 days in jail. 
Secondly- oh, who cares? It's just wrong. 
So what did I do about it? I did nothing. I came home and I pondered the situation. I have a strong feeling that the new postmistress may have actually put the books out herself. I do not know this for sure but she must have at least noticed them out there. She was on the phone when I was there and I really didn't want to disturb her (it sounded like she was trying to get the internet situation dealt with so that people can use their debit cards to mail packages and buy postage) and she has been so sweet to me but I have to say something. I could, I suppose, go back when the PO shuts down services at noon, but is open for people to get their mail and see if the books are still there, pick them all up and take them to the dump. 
That does not seem like the proper thing to do though. I assume that the materials were placed there for people to take home if they wanted but still- we're not talking about some poorly made tracts on cheap paper. There are real books in there. Hardbacks, some of them. 
So I need to go back tomorrow and if they are still there, I need to talk to Keisha and ask if she knows they're there, and also, if she knows it's illegal to have them there. 

I realize that part of my anger is more honestly directed at the political situation going on right now. And some of that is seeing what's happening in Florida under the most cruel of Republican governors. Things like banning fine and award-winning books from school libraries because they mention the possibility that not everyone is white, straight, and Christian. Because two male penguins raised a baby together in a zoo. Because the topic of slavery might make white people uncomfortable. 
ETC. 
So I'm not having it. Tomorrow I will pull up my Leslie Jones, Big Girl panties and go have a chat with our postmistress. If the books are still there. 

All is not sturm und drang, however. Yesterday my kids asked me what I want to do for my birthday and I thought about that honestly and I said, "I want to go to the Ocean Grill for lunch and Wasabi for supper." 
The Ocean Grill is a restaurant in Vero Beach. A restaurant so old that I went there as a child and which has a history which is richer and more interesting than that of some countries. Wasabi is a little Thai, Sushi restaurant in a strip mall in Roseland/Sebastian that has some of the very best food I've ever eaten. 
Of course, this would involve me actually going to Roseland and/or Vero and I e-mailed my beloved landlord down there to see if the little cabana with the pink kitchen beside the pool with the four spitting lions was available and it is not. However, he has another little house that he bought and restored and decorated in his own magical, old Florida way and it too has a pool, although tinier. It is right across the street from the Sebastian River and Glen and I can go watch the sunset from the community dock which is the newest version of the same dock I fished from as a kid and my husband can throw a line into the water. The house is really only a few houses down from where my Granny and Granddaddy lived and where I lived too, for awhile. 
I am so excited. We're not leaving until two days after my birthday but when you're seventy years old, what does that matter? 

Would you LOOK at that lampshade? I may never come home. 

I better go cook some supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Do Not Know Shit

Now I know that Linda Sue's yard is a virtual mommy/baby playground and nursery for all the deer in her Washington neighborhood, but I have never seen a deer in this yard despite the fact that they are everywhere around here. Lily had so many deer in her former yard that the dogs quit barking at them but this morning I looked up from my seat on the back porch to see that little doe nibbling away at some weeds on the fence line. I have no idea why but she just made my heart happy with her presence. Every now and then she'd startle and look up, and then return to her nibbling. Finally I went and got Mr. Moon to come and see her and she didn't leave but a few minutes later, she sensed us looking at her and faded back into the woods. 

It was a nice beginning to a day. 

I have been missing my chickens so much. Not sure why but I am. And then the other day I saw a short video of a rooster tidbitting for his hens and I could hardly stand it. Tidbitting is a behavior of roosters wherein when they find something really good to eat they make sounds that the hens know means that he has something for them. He lays the treat on the ground and lets them eat it and sometimes they even take it from his mouth. Of course it's all based on the fact that he wants their love (and when I say love I mean sex) but it's beautiful to watch. They know they have to earn that love. Roosters are so protective of their hens and keep watch over them all day long. They have specific warning vocalizations for different threats and the whole flock understands them. 

The best rooster we ever had, Elvis, watching over some of his ladies. 

When Elvis and Owen were both young. They were curious about each other, as you can see and they were friends. 

Oh. I could go on for days about the amazing ways of chickens. 
I'll just say that yard chickens have been one of the great joys of my life. 

So. Here we are. Biden did indeed step aside. 
I don't know what to say or even what to think. I do know that when I watched the debate I was shocked and horrified at the changes I saw in Biden. This does not mean I would not have supported him. He has done good things in his term as president and he has my undying respect. Of course, he's done some not-so-great things too, as have all presidents, but overall, I think he's been a good leader and he certainly has the requisite experience and knowledge of how things are done in Washington. 
But. That is over and done with as of today and as I'm sure all of you know, he has endorsed his vice president, Kamala Harris as the Democratic candidate. 
I think she'd make an excellent president and I hope with all my heart she gets the chance to prove that. 
But you know what? I have no idea if that will happen or not. Things have not been normal or right or predictable since Trump threw his slimy red made-in-China ball-cap in the ring in 2015. 
So basically, right now, I do not want to talk about it or think about it either. As I said, I really can't. 
I keep coming back to the unwelcome and horrifying idea that this country has a huge population of racist, homophobic, cult-loving idiots. 

And so, at this point in time, I'm going to keep looking up. Not in the "Oh let's be cheerful!" sense but in the actual sense. Look up and notice the Spanish moss, the resurrection fern that is so happily unfurled and green on the branches of the oak tree because of the rain we've gotten in the last few days. 

I can't do a damn thing to control the outcome of this election except to vote and that I will do. 

I guess that's it for today.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Story About A Storyteller

The kidney stone has been quiet today. I slept over nine hours last night. I just conked right on out. Jack didn't come in to keep me company and of course, Mr. Moon was at the coast. So it was just me and my dreams and I don't even remember them. 

The guys did not go fishing today. They got up, checked the weather, and decided to call it. It's the season of afternoon thunderstorms and if you're snug at home they are a wonder and a glory but if you're out on the water, they can be a scary danger. I remember one time, a long time ago, Mr. Moon had a business partner named Chuck who asked us to go scalloping with him and his wife on their boat and we did indeed go. Now Chuck was a storyteller. Sometimes his stories were for pure entertainment and I am here to say that he did have some interesting relatives and had lived an interesting life, and although he may have embellished and embroidered some of those stories, it only served to make them all the more entertaining. 
However, sometimes his stories were what I have come to believe were tall tales. As with every tall tale, there is usually a tiny germ of truth within the story and many of Chuck's stories centered around many of the flights he'd made. Now he really was a pilot. This is completely true. He flew a small plane. But did he really fly it to Cuba where adventures ensued? 
Who knows? 
He also thought himself to be a very fine judge of the weather. Almost a meteorologist who could predict weather and where storms would go after they arose and so forth. We were out on that boat and scalloping season is in the late summer and one of our afternoon storms began building in the sky, fairly far away. But when you're on the water, you can see storms and being able to judge wind direction and speed and all that stuff is helpful indeed when it comes to staying out of their path. 
So that storm was getting pretty gnarly-looking and the sky was turning that sort of bruise shade of gray and green that does not bode well but Chuck was CERTAIN that it was going to pass to the south of us. Or east or one of those directions. I can't remember. He kept reassuring us while Glen and I kept giving each other the side-eye and by the time it became absolutely apparent that no, the storm was not going to pass us by, it was too late to get back to shore. 
There was, however, a very small island that looked like a reasonable distance away and so off we headed towards it. I don't know if you've ever been in a boat in a storm on the ocean but it is a frightening thing. You've got your thunder and your lightning and your wind and your waves, all coming together to create a...well...a perfect storm. And it's scary as shit. The boat's bouncing up and down and water's pouring in and the rain is like needles drenching you and the lightning is threatening to turn you into a piece of burnt toast.
But we did make it to the island as had other boats. And on the island, there was an old abandoned something. Some sort of building that had no walls but formed a sort of shelter that everyone had crowded into. And at first, no one knew what to say except to comment on the storm and talk about how suddenly it had come up and stuff like that but we were all sort of uncomfortable, being mashed up together with strangers, trying to stay safe and everyone was a little shaky from the experience of being out on the water where things had seemed so perilous. 
And then the true and real Chuck came out and he started telling stories of storms he'd lived through and close encounters with almost-death that he'd lived through going through the storms and uncles and cousins who had been in storms, and before we knew it, everyone was laughing and gasping and we were all in it together and that was fine. 
Chuck had done that. 
And that's what a storyteller does. And if a storyteller is, by very nature, a bit of a prevaricator, we may have to excuse him, knowing that exaggerations and editing are but part of his process. There is a line though, which when crossed results in actual lying. Am I calling Chuck a liar? 
Well, yeah, sometimes he was. But that day on that little island with those huddled people, shivering from being wet and also from having been terrified, Chuck brought us all relief and entertainment with his calm southern Georgia man's drawl, with his dry delivery and his excellent storytelling skills. 
And that's worth remembering. 
Eventually, the storm did pass, the rain stopped, the sun decided to show its face again and everyone made it back to their boats, started them up, and headed back to shore. 
That was a day I'll never forget. 

I don't recall whether we got any scallops or not but I sort of think we didn't. 

So those beautiful sliced tomatoes up there were salted and draining to make another tomato pie. There are at least four or five varieties of tomatoes in that picture including the Berkeley Tie-Dye, the Nebraska Wedding, Cherokee Purple, and some sort of Roma that I can't remember right this second. 

There's the pie. Doesn't look very impressive but I bet it'll be fine to eat. 

I finished "Leslie Fucking Jones" and my main take-away after thirteen hours of listening to a lot of her entertaining stories was to absolutely understand the importance of standing up for our own true selves. And the only way to do that is to learn who our own true selves are. And to love and respect those selves because we are the only one of them there is, and although we may not be anywhere near perfect, we are human and we matter. Also, we should be standing up for others who need to be stood up for. Not putting up with any motherfuckin' bullshit, I guess would be how Leslie Fucking Jones would put it. 
She is a force of nature. And that's the truth. 

Still raining. Going to go boil some shrimp. Mr. Moon decided to go to the gym a few hours ago and he'll be back in a little while. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Oh, The Miracle Of Exercise!

After having begun walking again, I am happy to report that the problem I was having with my foot is completely resolved. No pain, no swelling. 
I am not thrilled to report that the knee that was bothering me so much is still bothering me but may be a little better. However, the other knee hurts now too.
And what I am completely pissed-off to report is that it would appear that the exercise has triggered movement of the kidney stone that is still in my right kidney and it is starting to ache. 
Thanks, exercise!
It's nowhere near the level 10 plus agony that a kidney stone can produce but it's there. It is definitely there, biding it's time. I know this feeling. I know what it is. I am not happy. The last time I went to see the urologist to talk about getting it blasted and my urine was "pristine" he ordered a scan and the radiology place never called and the discomfort I was having drifted away and so I just...let it go. And of course I'm hoping that the discomfort this time will do the same. But will it get worse if I walk? 

Knowing that Glen was going to the coast tonight to possibly fish tomorrow, I did not dare do anything to promote the movement of the stone and so I did not take a walk. I don't think that I'll wake up in agony tonight and want to be taken to an ER but I'm not going to do anything that might increase the odds of that happening. Plus, the humidity was almost 90% again today and I just could not force myself, even without the worry about that rock in my side. 
I didn't work in the garden, either. Hanging the sheets was about the most physical thing I've done all day. I spent a lot of time shelling peas. 

Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise and if I don't end up needing morphine between now and then, I'll finish shelling the few I didn't get to today and blanch and freeze them. 

I started watching the first episode of Season Three of Reservation Dogs and I cannot stand the thought that this is it for the seasons. I got Glen interested in the show and now we're watching it together, starting back at Season One so I am immersed in it and that does not make me unhappy. I am almost giddy, watching the episodes I've already watched. "Oh, this is a good one!" I'll tell my husband. I think I say that every night. And to me, they truly are all very special. Not a dud among them. 

So yep, the man is on his way to the coast again. Now let me tell you how his day went. He got up at 5:30 a.m., drove to Apalachicola, which is a couple of hours away, picked up the guy buying the Subaru he was selling for his friend, took the guy to the credit union in Tallahassee where he was getting his loan, then to the tag agency. Then they came out here, the guy took possession of his new car, and I think they were both very happy. When Mr. Moon came in the house he said, "I really like that guy," and I know he did. The fellow lives down in Aplach where he studies rare animals (I think) and his girlfriend studies birds. He lived for a month on Cozumel and so he and Glen traded stories about my precious island. 

At this point it was after two o'clock and Glen hadn't eaten so I heated up some grouper I made a few nights ago and made him a fine grouper sandwich with cheese and tomatoes and then he went and sat in his chair for a little while. I hope he caught a little nap. He really is not sleeping well. 

He offered to stay home in case I needed him but I told him that I'd call if I did (hurray for cell phones!) and I wouldn't let it get to the point of agony before I did that. So he packed up and hit the same road he took this morning. and off he went. 
"Be safe, be safe, be safe, be safe!" I said. Just to make sure he understood. 

I have to tell you a funny story that happened this morning. The routine with the wet cat food has become part of the day here. When my cheese and tomato toast (my regular breakfast) is in the toaster oven, Jack knows it's time and comes in and makes sure I remember what I'm supposed to do. I get the little can of food and I smush up the pill and mix it in with about a tablespoon of food and by that time, Maurice is usually in the kitchen too because she knows the routine as well as Jack and I do. I give her an equal amount to what Jack got in her bowl and this has been working well. He eats his, she eats hers.

This morning, however, after I put their food down, I went to the bathroom to pee and Maurice came in to the room and meowed at me and I knew exactly what she was saying. 
"Is Jack eating your treat?" I asked her. 
She meowed in the affirmative. She then led me back to her bowl where yes, Jack was chowing down on her portion and I fussed at him and got out the spray bottle which by this point, I don't even need to use. He sees it and darts. I may have to keep a closer watch on proceedings, spray bottle in hand for a few days. I just think it's so funny that Maurice told on him, exactly as a child would tell on a sibling who stole part of a treat which was rightfully theirs. And having raised four kids, I needed no translation. 

Justice will be done!

I'm sipping on my Friday night martini. I have clean sheets on my bed. I just watched a hawk soar across my backyard as he does every night. I'm pretty sure it's a juvenile but he can sure raise a racket. A bluejay is unwisely yelling at him and I hear thunder again off to the south. Seems like every day we get a promise of rain that the thunder makes but cannot keep. 

I'm going to make myself a miniature chicken potpie with the cutlet I didn't cook last night when I made our garlic-lemon chicken with cherry tomatoes. I'm going to put carrots and peas in that thing, onions and green beans. I will not forget the potato or the rosemary and oregano.

Instead of a pastry crust, I'll do a little biscuit thing on top because it's so easy to do and I'll bake it in the toaster oven. 

Comfort food. 

Happy Friday, y'all. May we all sleep painlessly and wake up the same way. 

Love...Ms. Moon