I Just Realized I'm A Book Burner.

Walked into the post office today to find this. As you can only imagine, I was not in the mood for that shit. I'd just cried at the dump, talking to the guy whose job it is to keep an eye on everything, operate the smasher thing, and help people if they need it. I'm sure there's a lot more to the job than that. 
I can't help it right now. When people ask me how I'm doing, I tell them unless I really have no idea how they may have voted. And even then- sometimes I don't care. Today when the guy at the waste facility asked me how I was I told him that I supposed I was okay for someone whose country was in flames and was now being controlled by Elon Musk. The guy was so sweet. He agreed with me and although that may have just been him being polite, he was quite sincere when he saw me tear up and said, "You can't let yourself get so worked up over this. There's nothing we can do."
And so then I went into my speech about how when Hitler started coming to power no one did anything to stop him and look how that turned out. 
Anyway, he was kind and he actually told me to come back soon which is sort of funny as it was the place I take my trash but you know- like I said, he was sweet. People can be really nice to old ladies. 

But when I saw that fucking book at the post office, I almost lost my shit. It was already after noon which meant that there was no one working (we have short hours at the Lloyd post office) so I snatched the damn thing up, brought it home, undid the metal coil thing and put all the pages on the burn pile which is quite appropriate. I have to make another complaint to the postal system but strangely enough, I doubt anyone there will be that concerned about my little issue with the government (Elon Musk) probably about to shut it down too. 

But that's ridiculous. Someone was cleaning out their stuff and found that old lesson book and, wanting to get rid of it but also feeling that it is just chock full of GOD'S WORD, they decided that the best thing to do with it would be to leave it at the post office in case some poor sinner needed some instruction. The thing was at least four hundred pages long and I am not kidding you. One has to wonder how long Vol. II was.

I did household chores today. Nothing at all exciting. Not one darn thing. I tried not to read too much news but you know how that goes. I washed sheets, I...

What in hell did I do? 

I think I was pretty busy all day but for the life of me, I can't remember what I was busy with. I made up the dough for a loaf of sourdough. I remember that. I did more laundry than just sheets. I picked camellias. 

None of this was challenging in any way. 

This afternoon I finally got myself back to the garden and did some weeding and I am so glad I did that. I needed it more than the garden needed it and there is more weeding to be done. There is never, not for one second of time, some bit of yard or garden work not needing to be attended to here. In some ways, this seems like a never-ending task which of course it is. But in other ways, it is exactly what I need in my life- a reason to be outside, to do some physical labor. 

The purple cabbage is actually looking pretty good. I know I should thin it. Some plants appear to be heading up. 
Look at the life force in a leaf of this gorgeous vegetable. 

Maurice had to come and check on my work, as she does. 

Two clumps of rye grass had sprung up and I have no idea where they came from but there they were. I pulled them and a little while later, found Maurice first sniffing them, and then nibbling at them. Girl's gotta get her greens, I guess. 

Boud, from Field and Fen asked me to share what books I had gotten at the library yesterday so I took this picture last night. 

I almost squealed when I saw the new Alexander McCall Smith book in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. I do love those lady detectives. They calm and soothe me. 
The other two books were just impulse picks. "The Widow's Guide To Dead Bastards" sounded excellent on the flyleaf. It is a memoir, not a novel. And I had never heard of Tommy Orange, the author of "There, There" but when I looked him up, he sounded like someone I should at least have a crack at. There is nothing quite so satisfying as having books which hold promise waiting to be read beside the bed.

And here we are. Friday night. Another week that flew by, powered by anger, frustration, fear, disbelief, and love for my family. It has been gray all day long but a few minutes ago, the sky cleared and the setting sun painted the tallest trees in gold. 

Remember to look up. 

Happy Friday (or at least it will be a little happier after a martini).

Love...Ms. Moon