Taking The Time To Appreciate

What shall we call today's sky? In real life it was even bluer. Blue as a Siamese kitten's eyes? Blue as the music of Robert Johnson? Blue as a glacial lake in the very high mountains? Blue as the Caribbean? Blue as toilet water that has been treated with Ty-D-Bol? 
Okay. I'll stop. 
But it was crazy blue. I just walk around looking up at the sky when I'm outside. Everything looks so beautiful or at least interesting against that sky. Even the witchy old pecan branches which I can just feel juicing up for the pushing out of new leaves. 

I couldn't get moving today. I was having a dream this morning that finally woke me up and got me out of bed because it was very unpleasant. It was one of those dreams where you're trying so hard to get up, get out of bed, but you can't really wake up enough to do it. I've had these dreams before. I bet we all do. But in today's version, I couldn't even open my eyes in the dream because every time I did the light was so blindingly bright that I had to shut them tight again. It's like my brain and my body were conspiring together to keep me in bed. Maurice was laying near my feet and that didn't help because there's just something about a cat sleeping with me that is so soothing. 
Yes, even if the cat is Maurice. She's not a bed-attacker. 

Mostly.

I finished listening to the Carl Hiaasen book, "Squeeze Me", and downloaded another one of his. I haven't started listening to it yet because I wanted to finish listening to a podcast that I'd started a few days ago. The podcast was on Mormon Stories, which some of you may know is something I've been listening to for at least five years. Maybe more. Probably more. And if pushed as to a reason why I listen to Mormon Stories, I'd have no answer except for the fact that I find Mormons fascinating. I have probably listened to thousands of hours of that podcast. That is not an exaggeration. First of all, many of the interviews are over three hours long. This allows for some pretty deep and detailed stories which I do love. You know I live for hearing about other people's lives, learning their stories. I usually get the shorter versions at check-outs but I like the long ones too. And I am also mystified by and fascinated with cults. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is probably America's biggest, richest, and most home-grown cult of all. The interview I was listening to today was pure proof of that although the woman who was being interviewed was obviously incredibly intelligent, extremely well-read, and so very earnest. Many, if not most, of the guests on Mormon Stories are people who have lost their faith and broken away from the church, but this lady was still all in, even though there is much about the church that she is so well-informed about that she does not really like. 
I won't go into details but her thing is proving that Joseph Smith, the founder of the church, did not practice polygamy, despite all the evidence that he did. Even the dang church says he did. She doesn't deny that other men did practice plural marriage and she, in fact, had a grandmother who was a polygamous wife. But she has dedicated her life to researching this topic and proving that Joe Smith absolutely did not have more than one wife. 
Well, I say "dedicating her life" but she also has eleven children so she does not have all the time in the world. And as always, the host, John Dehlin, was incredibly respectful, gentle, and kind to his guest. Probably at least 70% of the reason I listen to that show is its host.

I keep thinking I'm done with Mormon Stories and then something like this comes up and I'm back on the sauce. 

So I listened to a couple of hours of that and did some more weeding in that bed by the oak tree out front. Honestly, in this weather, I can hardly imagine anything I'd rather do. Well. Okay. That's not true but it's up there in the top fifteen, I bet. When my knees and back had had all they could take, I came on in and played some piano. 

There is something about that which so good for me. I know it. It has to do with sound and with the harmony of notes and how they reverberate in my body when I play them, even on my funky, out of tune, wavery-voiced piano. Maybe especially on that piano. It has its own unique voice and I have come to know and love it. It takes my pitiful attempts in stride and together we get through the same old songs I have been playing since I was ten and I am not as good now as I was then but I am more aware of each note and how it is something I put out in the world, or at least my hallway, and take into myself. And every time I play those notes, images from my past come back to me as if they had been stored in the muscle memory associated with fingers on keys. 

Lord. Who do I think I am tonight? 
Well, I'll tell you who I am tonight. I am a woman who is going to make another arugula, beet, and goat cheese salad. I am also a woman whose husband got her roses for Valentine's and after more than two weeks, they look like this.

God only knows what sort of genetic maneuvering it has taken to create roses that will look like that after weeks of hanging out in a vase of water. 
Whatever. I surely have enjoyed them. 

Let's enjoy all the beauty and peace and sweetness we can, okay? Either that, or put on your gloves and get out there and kick some ass. Or better yet- both. Whatever needs doing that you feel you want to do. 

Love...Ms. Moon