We All Will Be Received

Remember when I posted another picture of an elephant ear blossom about a month ago? That plant has been sending out new flowers ever since which is so weird because I'd never seen one before that I could remember. They are so...religious icon-looking to me. Like Mary in a nave. Especially with the light behind it. 

So I guess that's my Sunday holy blessedness from the Church of the Batshit crazy which hasn't been as crazy today as it was last Sunday when I spent the entire day crying. That's a pretty low bar to hurtle, though, when it comes to mental stability and enjoyment of life. I haven't felt especially crazy but my mood has matched the day which has been gray and dry and uninspiring. 

I laid out Levon's blanket and the different colors of flannel that I bought to make it with and realized that I should have gotten more of the camping print than I did in order to layer it all properly so I went online and ordered another few yards from Joann's Fabric. I could go to the Joann's in Tallahassee but I have no idea if they still have that print and it was just so easy to sit here on my ass and type in a few things and know that it will be coming at some point. So that's the story on that for now. 
Because I used up all my motivation yesterday I decided to go sit on the couch and maybe begin a new knitting project and watch "The Perfect Couple" on Netflix which I got hooked on a few days ago. I found one of my knitting books for completely incompetent knitters and found a hat pattern I thought that maybe with divine intervention I might be able to follow, knowing of course that I do not believe in divine intervention, and then I couldn't find the needles I wanted and I knew I'd had them recently. 
I do knit but I can't knit for shit, to coin a phrase perhaps, and mostly just start scarves that I never finish and hell, we live in Florida anyway. But the thing is, I love yarn and when I find it in thrift stores, I can't help myself. I buy it. Not crappy stuff but real quality yarns of cotton or llama or soft wool and silk. And then I never make anything out of it! So I have baskets and bags with my stashes in them and I went through all of them looking for these particular needles and I couldn't find them so finally, feeling completely inept and stupid, I started on some visible mending on a nightgown and when I reached over to the side table to grab my scissors, I realized that needles were right there, within inches of my hand. 
For fuck sakes.
But I continued on with the mending which entailed ripping out stitches, removing the patch, repositioning and pinning the patch, and then beginning again with the stitching. 

This did not, in the least, make me feel any more capable. At all. 

And that has pretty much been it for me today. I made some pizza dough and have picked arugula and basils to make into a sort of salad to go on top of the pizza and I realize that I have no mozzarella, only parmesan, but that will have to do. What is pizza but a crust made of a bread-like substance with whatever you want on top of it, all baked together? 

And no, Jack has not returned nor have we seen any sign of him whatsoever. I broke down and washed the piece of an old flannel blanket that I lay on top of the pillows in the guest room because that is where he usually spends his leisure hours, aka, most of his life. I suppose I should say "where he usually spent most of his leisure hours" because I do not think he'll be back there again. 

Maurice is still worried, I can tell. Or at least confused. She's been paying me a lot more attention and has taken over the job of lying on the table on the back porch where I sit at my laptop. 

I suppose that all of her facial wounds will heal now although her doppelgänger is still living in the yard and I think they go at it at times. She's gotten quite furry in the last few weeks and I wonder if that means we'll have a cold winter. Probably not. 

I better go start chopping up stuff and grating parmesan. 

But first. Sunday's hymn from the Church of the Batshit Crazy, written and performed by Paul Simon, one of our churches' most holy saints, especially as applies to rhythm and words. And oh, dear Lord. I just remembered that he made an album called "Rhythm of the Saints." Whatever, bless him. Bless us all.

Love...Ms. Moon