Seeing Versus Looking

This is a print of a painting that hangs beside my bed. I bought that print in Havana when I was there with Lis nine years ago. I wrote so much about that trip and sometimes I look at Lis and say, "Can you believe we did that?" And I, with my stupid social anxiety and every other kind of anxiety say, "I must really love you."

Anyway, I bought that print and one other in a museum gift shop we were touring because both of the pieces made me stop dead in my tracks and cry. Art often has that effect on me. I can't help it and I see no need to.
Last night, as I was getting in bed I looked at the framed print and I had that sudden realization you get sometimes when you've been looking at something for so long you no longer see it. 
I'm sure you know what I mean. 
But for whatever reason, I truly saw that painting last night and it stunned me all over again. The artist is Ruben Alpizar and the title of the painting is "The Night Cradles the Moon." 
La Noche Mece a la Luna.
And my eyes are welling even as I write this.

In a more current and less emotional topic, we went and had lunch with Maggie at her school today and oh yes, today was definitely the day. When we got there, we realized that people had parked up and down the street in front of the school as far as we could see AND the temporary parking area they'd set up was completely full. It seems that many, many grandparents were quite eager to come and eat lunch with their grands in a school cafeteria. 
And Maggie was so glad to see us. 

I unloaded the bag I'd packed with our sandwiches and cantaloupe and chips and mini cupcakes and we lunched away. It was a bit hard to hear in that setting. 

There was a LOT going on. Children and grandparents and parents, too, I think, were all chatting and laughing and it was a circus. But Maggie liked her lunch. I had made it just the way she wanted it although she does not like cantaloupe. 
Oh well. 
She does like mini cupcakes. 
One of the things she and I discussed today was the fact that she wants a little sister very badly. She knows that's probably not going to happen but she wishes it would. I told her that the good thing about being a girl is that she can always have friends who will be like sisters to her. That, however, was of no solace to her. 
"I just want someone who is not my age to take care of," she said. 
And I knew exactly what she meant. If it were possible to harness all of the maternal energy of nine-year old girls, there would be no unloved babies on this planet. Not ALL nine-year old girls have that maternal urge but I think a lot do and I'm sure that it's one of the reasons the human race has survived. Back when women had baby after baby, the older girls (and sometimes boys!) were often given the responsibility of taking care of the younger ones. I half-raised my own baby brothers and I loved those little guys in ways I've never loved any one else in my life. It was pure and it was strong and it truly helped me to feel more confident when I became a mother. 

We walked her back to her room after we ate. Her teacher knew Lily in high school and she has children roughly the same age as Lily's kids. Her boys played sports with Owen and Gibson and both she and Lily had tiny babies while attending the games, one of whom was Magnolia June. So she's known Maggie for a long time. 
Mr. Moon turned out to be the celebrity of the day. Over the years I have gotten used to people staring at him due to his height and not infrequently asking him how tall he is but let me tell you something- kids are a whole different matter. When we were waiting for Maggie's class to come out, Glen was leaning up against a wall and I heard a little boy say, "Oh my god! He is so tall!" Kids just have no filters about those things and kids in the cafeteria and in Maggie's classroom blatantly expressed their amazement. The didn't ask him how tall he was but had questions like, "How did you get so tall?" The little boys in Maggie's class were all over him. I loved it. Maggie's grandfather is the tallest man in the world! 
Almost.

So as we walked back to our car Glen said, "Well, we did it. Another year done." 
And so it was. 

We didn't have to get any vaccines this week but I did need to pick up some things at Publix. Since we've been home I have been domesticating. I finally made my attempt at Lebanese pink pickled turnips. I am not overwhelmingly certain that we're going to like these. It was a very simple pickling process. They're refrigerator pickles, not canned ones, so there was no sterilization of jars or doing any sort of water bath. I just peeled and cut up the turnips and made a brine with vinegar, water, salt, garlic, and a little pickling spice. There is also a half a beet in each jar which hopefully, will make the pickles pink. 

And will definitely ensure that Mr. Moon will not like them as even that much beet is more beet than he is willing to tolerate. They supposedly need to rest in the refrigerator for two weeks before we eat them. I am very curious as to how they will turn out. 

Martinis and weekly toasts have just made. Clean sheets are on the bed. I have peanuts in the pressure cooker with water and salt in order to create that southern delicacy, boiled peanuts. And if you've never had any or never had any cooked right, you have no idea what you're missing. A really nice looking loaf of French bread is rising while the oven heats. 
And no, we're not having boiled peanuts for supper. They are for snacking purposes. Mr. Moon loves them so much. I do too but not to the extent that he does. His daddy used to say that the best meal in the world was a Coors Light and a bag of boiled peanuts. 

He was a wise man, born and raised in Tennessee, and he knew what he was talking about. The best boiled peanuts are purchased on the side of the road on the way to the coast from a guy or a woman who has a giant pot of them bubbling away on a camper stove who dips the cooler done ones into a plastic bag which he or she will present to you with some paper towels and, if they are of the highest quality of purveyors of this heavenly treat, will also give you another bag in which to put your shells. It's like getting your body and soul ready to go dunk themselves in the Gulf of Mexico. Saltiness within and saltiness without. We are all sustained in a briny soup in our mothers for nine months before we are born and it is from that briny soup our oldest ancestors crept out of and onto dry land all those many eons ago. 
So yeah. Boiled peanuts. And pickled whatever. 

Happy Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon