Sunday, Part 467

I took zero pictures today. I really did not do a whole lot and nothing picture-worthy seemed to be part of the little I did do. I could take a picture of the washed, dried, and folded laundry I did but for the fact that it's all still in the dryer and I suppose I'll get around to folding it at some point. I thought about taking a picture of our breakfast wherein I made a sort of frittata or Spanish tortilla or whatever you want to call an egg pie made in a skillet with vegetables and ham and cheese. It was good, whatever it is called, and since it had vegetables in it, so very, very healthy! 
But I did not take a picture. 
Oh well. 

For the first time in five days, Maurice has not brought me a squirrel tail. I guess she cleaned out the entire nest. She is outside right now though, prowling along her patrol borders so things could change at any moment. Glen and I had a long talk this morning about how impossible it is for humans to fathom what or how a cat (or dog) thinks. We know that our animals have emotions. That's all there is to it. And those can be, or at least appear to be, very much like ours in some cases. We know when they are content, we know when they want attention, we know when they're not happy, we know when they are jealous or, at least in the case of Maurice, pissed off because one or both of us has deserted her for a period of time. 
But beyond that- we are merely anthropomorphizing their actions (and probably emotions, too) with only our own experience and how we take in and view our environment and react to it. We have no idea what things even look like to our pets, not to mention the difference in various other sensory abilities. Think of the constant bombardment of smells that dogs have! That must surely form and inform their behavior. Do cats have a hyper sense of smell? I have no idea. Frankly, I think our pets may well have a sort of sixth sense that I believe humans have too, although ours has paled considerably over the eons, or at least we do not recognize it for what it is. But I believe science will one day figure this out and prove it to be true. It's not woo-woo. It's evolution. 
Well, anyway, I have no idea what I'm talking about but I suppose the gist of it is simply that although Mr. Moon and I think we should be able to understand Maurice and the things she does, we really cannot. 

Hell, humans are often baffled by the things we ourselves do! 

Moving on. 

One of the things Glen and I did today was to finish shelling the very last field peas of the season. While we did that, we watched a little bit of a new series we've dipped into called "The Lowdown." It stars Ethan Hawke who I can almost confidently say has had no work done on his face and I admire that so much. 
SO MUCH!
And he's really excellent in the role of a journalist who calls himself a "truthstorian" who is not, shall we say, riding a cresting wave of good luck, fortune, wealth, and fame. The rest of the cast is great so far and today I figured out why it has captured me so entirely when I saw that Sterlin Harjo is the creator and writer of the series. Sterlin Harjo was also the creator of "Reservation Dogs" which I loved beyond measure and in "The Lowdown" I get the same vibe with the exceptional and interesting characters, the writing, the dark humor, the settings, and also, the music. 
I am looking forward to a run with this one. 

Speaking of actors, I was so sorry to hear that Diane Keaton had died. When I first heard her age at death, which was 79, I immediately thought, "Oh, too young!" but then I realized that actually, 79 is a pretty good age. And if anyone had a good run, it was her. Never married, a long string of what must have been fabulously interesting lovers, including the author Larry McMurtry, and a body of work that few could match. Although she always seemed to bring herself to her characters, each one was unique and although we often think of her in the rom-coms she so royally brought to life, I think of her role as the mother/matriarch in "The Family Stone" and I am reminded of how truly great her range was. 
My friend Sue and I both loved "Baby Boom" so much. A film she did in 1987 in which she co-starred with Sam Shephard. It was, I suppose, a rom com but it was also a study in the roles of women at that time, how women perceived themselves and wanted others to perceive them, how impossible it was to achieve all the things that we assured ourselves we were capable of, and how to come to terms with all of that. I still love that movie. 

But mostly, I am grateful for the many hours of pleasure that Diane Keaton brought to us through her acting. And I feel sorrow for her dearly beloveds, including the two children she adopted in her fifties. May they find peace. 

Well, as usual, I've tried, and probably failed, to express what I'm thinking, I'm feeling. It's been a good Sunday with my husband, right here at home. We've made each other laugh and we've been very sweet and I've held on to him tightly and my heart has been filled with how I still feel about him, all these years later. Tomorrow he'll get all packed up and I'll make life-sustaining cookies to take with him to the wilds of Canada when he leaves early Tuesday morning. 

Life keeps on lasting until it doesn't. Same with love, I guess. I am one of the lucky ones who, at this moment at least, has both. 

Love...Ms. Moon