Let Us Begin

After Jessie's cat died this summer, she had no need for a cat bed any longer and she offered it to me. Despite my doubts that Maurice would deign to set foot or ass in a cat bed, I said I'd take it and see what happened. 

And that happened. 

I'm pretty darn surprised but in a way, that's how she sleeps when she sleeps with me, curled up in the space formed by the way I sleep, on my side, one leg bent, one leg straight. 

So maybe she'll feel safe in that little cat bed. Jessie also gave me some catnip she had and I put some on a piece of cardboard for Maurice. She gave it a good sniff, another sniff, and then walked away. Damn. I was hoping to find something that might bring her a little joy. 

I went to the dentist today. I finally figured out what my sweet dental hygienist’s name is. It's Maddie. There was no detective work involved because she was wearing a cute little pin that said, "Maddie." 
I mean, you just can't ask someone you've sort of known for several years what their name is, right? Once again she was lovely and she praised my oral hygiene. She told me that some people come in to get their teeth cleaned not only having not flossed, but also not having even brushed. Just after their lunch! 
I said, "That's just rude." And it is. What's wrong with people? 

I met Lily and Lauren for lunch after my appointment and it was good to see them. Sometimes it's really a treat to see my kids and their sweethearts without the company of children, no matter how much I love them. You can concentrate more, for sure. 
And then we went to the same Goodwill I found my Fiesta Ware in last week and I may have used up all my thrifting luck in that one visit. I found nothing today that I wanted. Not even vaguely. 

But here's the big thing that happened today. I think we may have hired a carpenter/builder to come help us with our house. When Glen and I were talking about the prospect of hiring someone, I mentioned this man as a possible person to get an estimate from. I have literally known this guy since before he was born. His mama and I were good friends and I was pregnant with Hank and she was pregnant with Floyd (that's his name) at the same time. Hank and Floyd were born a month apart. Floyd's daddy was in a band at the time with my then-husband and it was a very sweet and very strong community. In fact, his daddy was literally the second person I met when I got to Tallahassee in 1974. 
I have written about all of these people at one time or another but I don't feel quite right about giving out a lot of details now. 
Early days in this project. You know? 

But Glen agreed that Floyd might be a good person to call. He'd talked to a contractor friend who told him that no, he didn't work on old houses like this and he really didn't know anybody else who did either. But it would appear that Floyd does. 

When he came to the door this evening to see what we had going on here, I opened it up to him and he said, "Hey, Ms. Mary!" So southern, yes, but just so sweet. I hugged him hard. He smiles a lot and I believe those smiles are genuine. He works with his son and of course, I love that too. 
In a way, I feel like things have come full circle. Or at least sort of. 

And so we begin, I hope. I love this old house more than words can say. It is the place where I not only live but where I helped raise two grandkids up to preschool age. A place where we've had a few weddings. A place where we've had birthday parties, Thanksgivings, Easters, and huge gatherings with music and food. A place where my acting buddies liked to come and I'd make pizza and we'd drink martinis. A place where we've grown a lot of food, where the camellias I planted as twigs are now trees, a place where I kept chickens and where I've made a million meals and read a million stories to my grandchildren. A place where I have danced by myself in the hallway to the Rolling Stones. A place where my niece, sitting at the kitchen island looked around at all my silly stuff, sighed, and said, "When I grow up, I want a house just like this." A place where we held the dancing, and yes- joyful- wake for my friend Lynn when she took off to a different plane. A place where I have gone from the age of fifty to the age of seventy-one. A place where I have loved my husband more than I ever knew I could, where we have figured out what love is and can be in our older years. A place that has offered me so many challenges when it comes to the things that grow in the yard and at the same time, has given me the huge and unearned honor of living in the shade of ancient oaks, and magnificently massive magnolia trees. It has protected us through hurricanes and floods. A place where I have felt safe and at peace and which has comforted and sustained me in my darkest, scariest times. It has given me peace and it has given me joy and never once has it given me despair of any sort. 
Except the despair I have felt at not taking care of it properly. 

I hope that Floyd can help us. And please don't make any jokes about the name "Floyd" in relation to the name of the village in which I live. Floyd got his name in a most deeply meaningful way and it had nothing to do with Lloyd, although I have come to love the place named that. 

This is the place where even Maurice feels safe. 
At least sometimes. 

Love...Ms. Moon