An Abundance Of Riches, Or...You Can't Always Get What You Want But If You Try Sometimes You Just Might Find, You Get What You Need

I am so damn stupid. Really. For some reason I just thought that the day an album was released, it would be available in stores. Of course, Tallahassee has no "record" stores that I know of but places like Walmart and Target do carry a small selection of vinyl but come on! Did I really think that there was the slightest possibility I'd find "Foreign Tongues" there today? 
 Well, I figured that Target might have it. Maybe? 
But I went to Walmart first because I was right there, having had lunch with my husband who was in between getting home from the lake and packing up and leaving to go fishing tomorrow. 

I hate Walmart. 

I hate it with the heat of the burnings surface of seventeen suns. 
Okay. Not really. I just feel so uncomfortable there. Like...Help! Get me out of here! Oh wait. Maybe I need a pink hand mixer. You think? 
No! No! You do not! Head towards the exit now! 
And the lighting is horrendous and the shelves are messy and crowded and there's too much. Just way too much.
For some reason, Target is so much better. So I went there. They didn't have the album either but I did pick up one more pair of men's cargo shorts, two tank-top tee shirts, a bar of Dr. Bronner's citrus scented soap, and so forth. 

I am ready for our trip!
Which begins next Wednesday. 
More on that later.
And somehow, instead of becoming agitated and anxious as I do at Walmart, I am slightly soothed at Target. Not quite sure why but the employees at Target look a lot less angry than the ones at Walmart. And that means a lot to me. 

I've written enough about that part of my day and shall now move on to these.

Google tells me they are fairy ink cap mushrooms. They're so tiny and so cute and so abundant around the tree stumps where I feed the crows their meal worms. 
Another sort of mushroom is growing around a different stump.

These may or may not be honey mushrooms. Any thoughts out there? Any mycologists?
I am a Googologist which theoretically means I know everything that AI knows. And that's a lot! 

I was thinking that I might give a small review of two books I've read recently. One with my eyes, which is "Marrying the Ketchups" by Jennifer Close and the other, via audiobook, "The Calamity Club" by Kathryn Stockett who also wrote the wildly successful "The Help."
Very different books but I enjoyed them both. Okay, I haven't quite finished "The Calamity Club" by Kathryn Stockett but it's almost thirty hours of listening. I have to be honest and tell you that although I thought "The Help" was probably an important book in some ways, in others it was very much a book written via a white woman's perspective which I am sure could have been better written by a Black woman but you know what? The white woman's perspective of what was happening in the south (and still does- trust me) in the early sixties has a place in the literary world. I certainly have my own memories of that time.
I'm going to give Stockett credit for writing a damn good story in "The Calamity Club." There are parts that are a tiny bit (okay, very) hard to believe but the author really does take on topics that are difficult to discuss, even now. In this book, she puts a face and a voice to sex workers in the Great Depression. And other things. Class, the role of women in society, not to mention how children who, through no fault of their own or even their mothers, end up in institutional care. Hypocrisy is in there along with race, prohibition, alcoholism, vice laws, child sexual abuse, poverty, wealth, the patriarchy ...well, as you can imagine, a 650 page book can cover a lot of ground. 
One complaint I have about it which is definitely not really a major complaint but which bugs me nonetheless is that the main character's name is Birdie and why does every novel set in the south written have a female character named "Birdie"? 
I have never met a Birdie in my life. It's a fine name but let's move on, shall we?
Also, the narrators of the book are very fine. 

As to "Marrying the Ketchups," well, that is a completely different sort of a story. It's about a family restaurant and the characters are terrific. Ms. Close has either spent some real time working in food service or has done a hell of a lot of research although it, too, has a few places where the circumstances may be a little hard to believe. But not many. And in fact, it inspired me to revisit the Hulu series "The Bear" which I tried watching quite awhile back and decided was not for me. It, too, is about a family restaurant and its characters are both well-written and well-acted. In fact, it's the characters who are drawing me back as happens in any series. If you don't care about the characters, it's hard to love the story. 
That's what I think. 

So. Mary. What are you going to do about procuring a vinyl copy of "Foreign Tongues?" 
I had thought I could come home from shopping today, order it from Amazon and probably have it tomorrow. 
But no.
Expected delivery would take place on July 19th and we will still be in NC and I hate having to ask Mark to look out for packages because sometimes they are left in front of the fence and so far, no one has stolen even a one but it's still a responsibility I do not want to lay on his head. 
So. I shall wait until we get back to order it. 
Meanwhile, I have bought the album on iTunes which means it's on my phone and here in a minute I will put my ear buds in and play it. That will have to do for now. 
Should I make another martini and dance in the hallway? 
This could happen. 
A blog reader named Mary sent me a link to The Guardian's review of the album which was quite positive, four stars out of five, and in it they linked the video for one of the songs, "In The Stars". 
I started watching that video a few days ago and it was so obviously AI created that it turned me off and I didn't watch the whole thing but this morning I did and I'm so glad. 
Yeah. AI is involved but the music is all Mick, Keith, and Ronnie. It has ear wormed itself into my head and I think it may be one of the best songs they've ever written. Here's one of the verses:

Well, there's a poisonous cloud, there's a sickness in the land
All the judges in their robes got their rubber stamps
Well, do you wanna dance 'til the roof caves in?
Yeah, and the guitars scream and the choir still sings

Oh. My heart. And there is such dancing in it. And I swear to you- Mick Jagger's voice has never sounded better. So, I'm going to embed it here and if you want to watch it, you can, and if you're eschewing all the AI you can, I understand. I do. I really do.

Here I go. I may, as I said, dance. 

We shall see.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday Blog Attempt, Part II

Well, Gee Dee. 
I was just writing my little old heart out here with pictures and a video and everything, talking about a book and a series on Hulu and the amorality of Donny Dementia Boy and of course field peas, 

when I accidentally deleted every damn bit of it and I can't find any way to recover it. 

Oh well. 
Here's the video which is now floating somewhere around in the ether. 

That was a rainstorm we had here this afternoon with thunder included. It is quite short. The fact that I managed to get the thunder in there is fairly amazing. 

What else? I am obviously not going to talk about DT.

How about this?

Know what it is?
I'll tell you. It's a mosquito, perched on the top of my MacBook, studying me closely to see which part of my body or face she wants to land on, inject itchy stuff into, and suck my blood out of. 
This happens at least three times a day, a mosquito using my laptop for an observational tower. 

And here's a another picture. 

Carrots from the garden. I cut them up to use as a platform for the chicken I am roasting. 

Like that. 

Volunteer zinnia in the kitchen garden. 

Hank reports all is good down in Eastpoint. Here are two pictures from last night.

Hank's most requested birthday meal is shrimp salad and here we have it in a buffet form. All the ingredients and you get to pick the ones you want. 
I feel certain that Taylor had a lot to do with that. She is a real, true chef, y'all. 

And here's Hank, ready to enjoy. I am so glad to see that the goop has been made and looks just right. 

Tomorrow the Rolling Stones are releasing their thirty-third studio album and I have been loving the pre-release interviews. One can't help but think that this really could be the last one and yet, they all seem as excited about this one as if it were their first. They came together in a studio, they played songs together that Mick and Keith wrote, and they are happy. 

I have to go to town tomorrow. I may just have to see if I can find it. I want the vinyl, of course. 
For an interview Keith did on The Today Show go here. 
I wish I could embed it but I can't figure it out. 
Oh, what beautiful faces those old boys have, every crevice a testimony to the power of their love of the music they make. 
I think Keith may still be wearing eye-liner. 
Be still my old heart.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I just clicked the link to the rain video and it sucks. It did not look like that on my phone. I wish I could fix it but I can't. The audio is the best part anyway. 

Quiet

 

On Sunday evening when we were having our martinis I asked if we could go out to the front porch for a little while and everyone agreed that we could. We so rarely use that front porch and I can distinctly remember vowing and declaring when we moved in here that we would never, ever, quit sitting on that porch. 
And now, well. These things happen. 
But I had a yen for us to sit out there and enjoy the golden hour and we did until the mosquitoes arrived in great numbers to suck our blood and make us itch. 
But while we were out there, I went to do a quick check of some of my porch plants and I found this.

A perfect little house wren nest and although you can't really see, it has four eggs in it. I had no idea if the eggs were still viable or not, or if the mama and daddy were still tending to them so yesterday I went out to check on that situation and sure enough- as soon as I leaned over to peer into the nest, a parent bird flew out of the nest at great speed. 
Aha! 
Yes. And maybe we shall get babies and maybe they will live. I hope so. 

Today was pottery. Up early, drink coffee, read blogs, etc. I made it to class just a few minutes late and it really does not matter in the least when I show up. We are a very relaxed group. Pottery Lizzie was there, back from her sort-of-a-family reunion wherein Gentleman Caller got to meet everyone and I feel quite certain that must have been a stressful situation but I hear everyone liked him very much and that the two-year old granddaughter decided he was her favorite and today while we were in class, she actually called Lizzie and asked for him. 
And what could be a more honest and heartfelt approval than that? 

My leaf platter had not been fired and I had not even put my fish bowl on the shelf because it needed more drying on the mold so of course it wasn't ready to begin the glazing process. 

I unwrapped the little fishy I've been meaning to get to for months now and began to glaze paint on that. I had envisioned it as part of a silly little project, sort of evoking a fifties wall decoration feeling, making more fishes and perhaps bubbles that could all be hung on a wall. 
I estimated I could probably get this not-quite-but-almost-tiny fish done in an hour, tops, but after two hours and some minutes, I still wasn't done with it. 

Oh my god, it's so fucking ridiculous. 
Well, it is what it is. 
I'm thinking I need to go back to hibiscus. 

And while I'm thinking about it, I did take a picture today of the barracuda fish that I spoke of last week but I'm not going to post it because I don't have the artist's permission. It is powerful, though. And not in a friendly way at all. Her husband is going through some very serious health issues and I am wondering if the barracuda is representational of that in some way. 
Or maybe not. 

I took myself to lunch after class and then made a quick Publix run-through, and THEN I went to the library. When I went into the library, it looked seriously like it might rain and when I came out, no more than twenty minutes later, if that, it looked like there'd been a major rainfall. Parking lot holding puddles, steam rising from the pavement, etc.
This is Florida in the summer. 

Mr. Moon's at the cabin and he sent me this picture.

Peace. He is in sore need of that.

Love from Lloyd...Ms. Moon

The Dearest Of Friends

 I took this picture of Lis yesterday as we were leaving the studio of a luthier friend of hers who made Lis an octave mandolin some years ago but who had the instrument to make some improvements on it and to use as a demonstration of her work. It is a beautiful instrument. Her name is Rose. The mandolin, not the luthier whose name is Debra. 
I love that picture. The live oak in front of that pretty stucco house with the tidy yard- it's just so emblematic of old Tallahassee in some ways. Debra's studio and that little house are across the street from what is called Lake Ella in Tallahassee even though it is actually more of a large pond but it's been right there for many, many years, a place for people to bring their kids to play by the water and feed the ducks, bring picnics, or walk around the perimeter for health or relaxation. 

There used to a motor court by the lake called, Lake Ella Motor Court, of course. 

The buildings are still there, now repurposed as cute little shops. 

Debra grew up in the house her studio is in now and I so wish I had had the courage to ask if I could take a picture of her in that shop, surrounded by her tools and stringed instrument parts and work tables and instruments she's working on, instruments she's finished. I am shy around her though. She never remembers me but I remember her from when she was the partner of a midwife I worked with at the Birth Centre, back when Lily was a toddler. She was then the Tallahassee fire chief and yes, I was intimidated. And of course I remember her.

Lis and I had a fine day yesterday. The boys took off for some Tom dealings. Glen had an appointment with the attorney and then he and Lon went out to Tom's so that Lon could look at some of the guitars Tom had stashed in one of his several sheds to give him an idea of their possible value. I hear that was a rather traumatic experience. 
Can you say hoarder? 
And when I say hoarder, I do not mean someone who has too many tea towels or tablecloths stuffed in a closet. No. I mean the sort of hoarder whose things, when explored after their death, leave one in desperate need of a shower and a good, hot, sterilization of the clothing worn. 
Enough of that. 

Before Lis and I went to Debra's, we met Hank and Rachel, Anna, Taylor, May and Michael at the Indian buffet for lunch. Mark made a quick appearance but could not stay to eat. Hank made me laugh so much, telling stories about what a wacko mother I had been. And oh, seeing Anna and Taylor was just a joy. And May and Michael too. Hank was on Cloud Nine, it being the day before his grand fete was to begin. He was bubbling with the joy of it. So much so that both Lis and I had the same thought this morning which was that we should go to the place the whole group was meeting up to head down to the coast just to wish them well and give them a fond farewell. 
Okay, so Lis actually thought about the fact that we should have made them a cake which never crossed my mind but Lis is a much better human than I am as well as a far superior cake baker.
Anyway, after the lunch and visit to Debra's we got coffee at a little place on the lake and then we went to a thrift store which was close by. I didn't buy a thing but Lis bought a few tiny things that she can use in her hat making. And if all that weren't enough, we went to Publix to pick up things for supper. She wanted to make chicken enchiladas and I am so glad she did. They were delicious! And the supper the night before had been pretty darn good too. A lot of stuff out of the garden and the Gulf. As Glen said, he'd never seen four such big plates of food devoured so quickly. 
Jessie's childhood best friend (and starter husband), said once about biscuits, "I hog them down." This came to mind as we did indeed hog that down. 
This morning they packed up and we all went to Waffle House for our ritual last-morning breakfast. There were eggs and a waffle and raisin toast and bacon and sausage and grits and hash browns, all perfectly seasoned with Waffle House's very own special grease and plenty of salt. 
You can't beat it! 
Today is Lis and Lon's 47th wedding anniversary so they were ready to get home and have their own celebration. It was hard to see them go but I was so glad to have been able to spend time with them. It had been way too long but as it always with good friends, it's like no time has passed when you come back together, no matter how long it's been. 

And today I have been a lazy sloth. You know how unused to socializing I am and I have needed a recharge. I picked some peas, I put my puzzle back in the dining room and worked on that for awhile. I caught up on blogs (mostly) and then I shelled peas. I have GOT to let these peas get bigger before I pick them. I know, I know. I keep saying this but it is so true. 
You see this?

That represents about two hours of pea shelling. I am not kidding you. And yes, if you buy them at a farmer's market, you're going to be paying about five thousand dollars a quart but that pitiful less-than-half-a-quart is ridiculous. I have to let them mature more which makes the shelling easier and the peas bigger. I am talking to myself here. I know that no one reading this needs to know this information. 

I think Glen's going to head over to the cabin tomorrow and I've got pottery. I shall be interested to see if my leaf platter has been fired and if my fish bowl is dry enough to be put on the shelf to go into the kiln. We have gotten rain on and off. It stormed nicely yesterday but today has been mostly all threat and no real rain but everything looks so very green and it's a little cooler so I'm not complaining. 
Here's what my tabasco peppers are doing right now.

As you can see there on the right, the Seminole pumpkin is threatening to swallow them as it has swallowed some of the field peas and yet, still, not a bloom one. 
Ah well. I am enjoying the very essence of their vitality in just those beautiful vining leaves. Still, I would not mind getting a pumpkin or two out of the deal. 
The crows are still returning every day. They are now aware that they don't need to caw at me to get me to come out and sprinkle their meal worms on the stumps. I am at their service. 
Here's Maurice, trying to pretend that it's me she loves while we both know she was just reminding me to get up and give her her morning Temptations. 

She has not changed her evil ways in the least. She bit me this morning on the hand. I will admit I yelled at her. Loudly. I should be commended for not smacking her too. 
Sigh. I must tell you that I offered Maurice to Lis and Lon to take home if they wanted because obviously, that would make her happy. Sadly, they assured me that no, they really weren't interested. They made some excuse like how being "pet free" suited them now but I am afraid that even with her obvious affection for Lis, they have not been charmed nearly enough for that. 

And so it goes. It was wonderful having the Williamsons here and now life goes on as it does. The Hank is Fifty crew has gotten to their house and it would appear that all is well. I am hoping they have the very, very best time. I think they will. 
I wonder what Hank's next big project will be. 
I am sure that Rachel is wondering the same thing. 

Life is funny, isn't it? We all have such different needs and such different things make us happy. Some of us long for travel in foreign lands, some of us for projects that require our time and energy and love, some of us are pretty darn content to sit on the back porch and listen to the cicadas and the frogs beginning to tune up for their evening song, wondering how long it will take for our peas to swell up to the perfect size to pick. 

Be well, y'all. Cherish all the love that comes your way, notice and appreciate the littlest things, laugh at whatever you can find to laugh at, and oh, you know- look up. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another, Albeit Smaller, Wild Rumpus Right Here

Handsomest boys in the world.

Happy girls. 

Maurice is in love with Lis. This has never happened before.

 This says everything you need to know about Lis Williamson. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Screaming Skull Or Baby Jesus?

MrsFwith4 commented on my yesterday's post asking if the object in the guest room fireplace was a screaming skull which I thought was great! 

Here's that picture again. 

I suppose you could interpret that as a screaming skull but no, actually, it's the lovely old nativity that came with the house. 

As you may have noticed before, although I am rabidly agnostic (at the very least), I do seem to love certain types of religious iconography, mainly madonnas, although that seems to be losing its fascination for me as I get older. But when we first looked at this house, that statue thing was on the refrigerator which was odd. First off, it's pretty big. Secondly...what?
The man we bought the house from assured us he did not want to take it with him and to do with it as we wanted. And I wanted to keep it around and so we have. But where does one put such a thing? I put it in the dining room fireplace first but eventually it got moved to the guest room. It was in better shape when we first acquired it but I made the mistake of trying to clean it and that is not a good idea. 
Oh well. 
My favorite thing about the piece is the expression on the face of the obviously three-year old baby Jesus.
He is not well pleased.

I interpret it as, "Oh god. Here we go. This is not going to end well."

I've been cleaning most of the day, going from one room to another, doing a bit here, a bit there. Not very efficient but it's how my mind works these days which is to say- not very well. I didn't do much deep cleaning, more what you'd call shallow cleaning or, I suppose surface cleaning but things are a little better organized, I threw out more stuff, some rugs have been washed, some dust has been removed, more pictures have been stashed. 
And yes, I rearranged and/or created a few different tableaus which I think is what I subconsciously do. 
I like this one. It's on the shelf above the sink in the bathroom. 

The woman with the incredible hair was made by the incredibly talented Linda Sue who sent it to me and it's one of those things that I never tire of looking at it. She fascinates me. So I gave her a little altar of her own with baby seashells and a King Cake baby. She appears to like that, don't you think? 
While I was at it, I threw away old skin care products I don't ever use and a bottle of silver polish liquid that stinks so bad I hate to use it and some off-brand electric toothbrush heads that I don't have the toothbrush for anymore and oh...some other stuff. I put my beloved, very old and pretty damaged baby dolls back under the vanity in my room and so now the rocking chair they were in can actually be sat on should one feel a little vaporish. 

The only truly serious cleaning I did was of Glen's shower which I NEVER do and don't ask me why but I figured Lon might want to use that shower and now at least it smells quite de-mildewed. Which it is. 
(Large shower cleaning hack: use a broom to scrub those walls and the floor. It makes so much more sense than using a brush and is so much easier.)

Isn't that just the manliest shower? And he built it. Of course.

And there was other cleaning and I ended up in the kitchen where I mopped the floors and even scrubbed some of the walls of the bathroom that is right off the kitchen, opposite the pantry. Did I clean the pantry? 
No I did not. 
Look. I'm only human. 

Oh! I put my puzzle up! It was so easy. I put the cover that came with it over the work I'd done and moved it all to the chest in the library. I truly love that puzzle board.
Now. Have I cleaned a thing in the library?
Again, no. 
But we can eat at the dining room table. 

I believe the important things are done. Clean sheets. Place to eat. Decently clean bathrooms. Thick layers of dust removed in some areas. I did not touch the Glen Den. That is Glen's and I will not be spending an entire day dusting and washing the Museum of Glen and that's all there is to it. Tomorrow I may dust the whatever-it-is the TV rests on. 

One of the last times the Williamsons were here, we somehow stumbled on the most amazing Youtube channel that can be imagined. We are still talking about this in hushed terms because it was practically a spiritual, or perhaps group hallucinatory experience. It was like one video after another, most of which none of us had ever seen, of performances of all the bands that we loved so much when we were young. And they went on and on and on. Finally, I said I had to go to bed but honestly, I think we could have sat there all night, stunned and mesmerized. And we have no idea where we found it or what it was called. 
It just happened as if by divine intervention. 
I seriously doubt we'll ever experience anything like that again but we'll probably try. 

I must add to tonight's post that Hank's true fiftieth birthday celebration is beginning on Tuesday. Well, the part where everyone goes to the coast starts on Tuesday. He has been planning this for quite possibly a year. And when Hank plans anything, it is damn well planned. Schedules are made. A house has been rented which is quite near St. George Island, is across the street from the bay, and has a pool and many bedrooms. Friends are flying in from all over the country. Taylor and Anna are already here. A specific group has been invited to spend the nights there and although family and others are invited for daytime activities, there have been strong instructions that at five o'clock, we must exit the premises when the Wild Rumpus will start! 
Don't ask. I certainly haven't. 
Tee shirts have been made. I feel certain that menus have been too, as well as room assignments and, oh hell. I don't know. 
Hank loves doing things like this. He is an organizer and he is a friend keeper. And he is a master of party-joy giver. 
Remember his Tallahassee Springtime Parade parties? 
If you'd ever been to one you would have. 

Oh yeah. It's the Fourth of July. I think I may have just heard some sort of firework. I'm surprised it's taken this long. This is not a holiday I generally get excited about. 
Okay, I never do. 
And this year? 
Once again...no. I did not.

Love...Ms. Moon

And The Secret Is...Mealworms! Plus A Whole Lot Of Other Stuff

Sorry about the quality of the photo. It was taken from the back porch behind the screen from a fairly good distance away. These are the two crow couples I am calling George and Martha and Fred and Ethyl. I have read that crows do indeed live together as couples and although I couldn't identify any of them in a line-up of one, I assume these are the same four that come to dine every day. Sometimes there is one other crow and I think that may be a child of one of the couples because I've read that is common, too, for a young crow to hang out with Mom and Dad for awhile. If that one has a name I guess it's Junior.
So a few weeks ago, Steve Reed wrote that he and his husband had started putting a mixture of mealworms and seeds in their bird feeder and that the birds really seemed to like them. I passed this along to Glen who immediately ordered a huge bag of meal worms which came a day or two later. Now chickens will definitely tear up all the mealworms you give them. Happily. So I knew that some birds very much did like them but for whatever reason our cardinals and jays and wrens and so forth showed no interest at all. So here we were with this huge bag of mealworms which I suggested I could grind up and start baking with but, eh...
Nah.

We'd had these two crow couples coming around and they'd yell at me when they saw me on the porch. They'd scream out their caws as if they knew damn well I had food they wanted and that I should get up off my butt and give it to them. 

Hmmm...
Now the crows never go to the feeder. They just don't. I have no idea why. I am definitely not an ornithologist. But one day when they'd been walking around in the back yard and then cawing from the trees right behind the porch, I suggested to Glen that we put some of the mealworms on all of the stumps left by the cutting of the Bradford pears and so Glen tried it. Next thing we knew, the crows were dining  here like this was the Bradford Pear Stump Cafe and mealworms were the daily lunch special. 
Done. Within a day we had regular crow visitors. And if you look up "how to attract crows to your yard" you will find videos and lists of instructions and favorite foods to attract them and all we had to do was scatter mealworms on stumps. Now they scream at me every morning when they see me and I'm sure they already recognize both Mr. Moon and me as the mealworm servers as they watch us closely when we go out and give them their treats. The only thing I really want to see if we can accomplish beyond that is to try and get them to come closer to the house. At this point they'll get about, oh, I don't know, thirty feet from the porch door? I am not good at estimating distances. At all. 
Of course a lot of people who want to attract crows are hopeful that they'll leave them something shiny as a thank-you. A sort of paying of the tab, I guess, or maybe a tip. Their presence is their currency. 
So that's been fun, seeing those glossy beauties doing the head-bopping bird walk in the back yard, politely sharing their mealworms on the flat stumps. The squirrels like them too. 

And that's that story. 

I did more cleaning today and a little more clearing out. And here's the issue I'm having with family photos. 
First of all, I never get good picture frames. I mean, as Jessie says, I get Dollar Store frames. 
I cannot deny this. 
So to begin with, I'm not treating the photos with the respect they deserve. 
But the issue I have is that after a photo has been on display about ten years, you quit seeing it. That is just the way it is. And they collect dust and for some reason they make me feel guilty because, okay, they're dusty and I don't have them in good frames so I am showing them disrespect and that almost translates in my always-guilty brain to feeling as if I'm disrespecting the people in the photos. 
There are a few photos that no, I never get tired of and most of those are on the hallway altar vanity. 
I have pictures on the piano which are really too high for most people to see and some on a little table by the front door that no one ever looks at and quite a few on the sideboard in the dining room but again- hardly anyone ever goes in there as it's mostly just a pass-through room and even if we do eat in there, for some reason the photos just seem slightly invisible. 
And then there are the photos on the mantel in our room. Mostly they are photos of Glen and me being sweet and/or cuddly. In a rather innocent way, of course, but some of them are a little passionate. I mean, we have our clothes on and everything. It's all in the way we're looking at each other. But again- those pictures have been there for twenty years and, well, I was ready to clear them off and just enjoy some space there. Or at least more space. A space I could clean a bit easier. But again- would this create bad juju? And would it be disrespectful to our love? 
Yeah. Probably not. So I consulted with Jessie via text and she assured me that it would be fine to clear them off and so I did and now they're in a drawer in the little chest of drawers I use as a nightstand and I do still have a few things on the mantel (hey! it's me!) but not the clutter. 
Not the clutter. 

So what are your feelings on this? Will my children and grandchildren feel as if I no longer love them? I doubt it. I'm sure they'd all say, "Go for it!" 
But is it de rigueur for parents to display pictures of their family? As I said, some pictures will never be taken away and put in a drawer. I just love them too much and I cannot tell you why I feel that way about some and not others but I think it has to do with the genuineness of the emotions displayed in the photo. A moment captured that tells a story I remember. 
And please, PLEASE do not suggest I find other pictures to replace the old ones with. I honestly have a thing about pictures. And old videos. They make me sad, mostly. Probably sad for the passing of those ages and stages of all of us. The images of people who are gone from us now. 
Also, let us not suggest the magical picture frames that show images caught on our phones, one by one, without ceasing. Those are kind of cool but I'm afraid it would be one more thing I'd spend mesmerized time on. That may happen at some point in the future but I'm not there yet. 
So here's what the mantel looks like now. 

The painting is one my mother's brother did when he was quite young and taking art classes from Frank Baisden. Frank and his wife Katy were amazing characters that I was lucky enough to know in my own childhood in Roseland and Frank was a genuine artist. I've written several posts about him and Katy and there's one HERE if you're interested in it. 
That painting hung above my granny's bed all of my childhood and when she died, I asked for it and it has been in my bedroom ever since. With any luck, it will be there when I die. I love it that much. 

From left to right on the mantel we have a gorgeous doll that May made for me. The detail on her is amazing. She's been on another mantel piece but I want her where I can see her more easily for now. Next is a tiny felted sweater that she made. One Christmas she made everyone tiny sweaters and all of them were appropriate to the one they were made for. Next, whelk shell, Seminole Indian dolls with smaller shells in front of them, conch shell, beautiful ceramic parakeet I scored at Wag the Dog which I love, and a cutting of arrowhead vine in a silver plated pitcher I got at some random thrift store. 
And I feel like that is everything I want right there now. Things I love and will notice because they are newly there. Except for the painting which I always notice and always will. 

This morning I picked another gallon of green beans, remarkably, and about half a gallon of field peas. I need to sit down and snap and shell. I got the guest room tidied up and dusted and actually even rearranged the mantel in there. Sort of. 

Here's what the guest room looks like. 

This picture was taken from the doorway between that room and the dining room. And yes, I should probably get some sort of quilt or bedspread that covers the bottom mattress but really, who cares? Also, that is THE MOST COMFORTABLE BED IN THE WORLD! 
Glen suggested that we should take it to the cabin since we sleep on a different, almost as comfortable but not quite bed. I shut down that shit immediately. 
Oh hell no, may be what I said. 
And here's another view from the guest room, leading into the laundry room. 

It's a rambly old house. One room leads to another, and I walk through them all a thousand times a day. The door you can see the door knob of in that last picture leads out onto the back porch. And although you can't see it, the swing porch leads directly off the guest room as well, that door being just to the left of the head of the bed. The other door that leads to that particular porch comes off my bathroom. 
You could get lost. It has happened. 

We just got a nice little rain, the odd thing being that the sun shone throughout. We always used to say that happened when the devil was beating his wife but I don't like that. At all. 
Even the fucking devil should not be beating his wife. I am glad to step in and say so. 

Pretty little garden spider, aka zipper spider, on the front porch. The golden orb weavers are establishing their webs and territories too. Pictures of those will no doubt be forthcoming. 

There are clean sheets on ALL the beds this evening and I have made my own martini. 

Happy Friday, y'all, and no, I have not answered comments today. Perhaps I shall get around to it later or perhaps not. Sometimes a blogger lady just needs a little break. Trust me when I say that I have read them all and appreciate each one. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

A Journey Ended, A Destination Reached

Glen was in town this morning for an appointment and trying to get some things done and he called me at 11:45 to say, "Tom died."
We knew this was coming. Hell, it's been seemingly coming for years and yet, I had a tiny rush go through my body, head to toe, like a little electric shock and then that was that. 
He'd died a half hour before. They had given him morphine and so I think he probably went out and on easily and without pain. Glen had seen him a little while before he died and Tom was unconscious then and so he'd gone on to the business of his day. 

I asked Glen later on this afternoon if he was feeling anything other than relief. 
"I don't think so," he said. And neither do I. Glen has been Tom's friend for a long time, and they have done a lot of things together including buying that property on Dog Island but as he said next, "I've never felt any real emotion with Tom."
"Like affection?" I asked. 
"Yes. Affection."
Tom was not an easy person to be friends with. He was diagnosed with autism later in life and it was a relief to him because it explained, at least partially, why he was the way he was. I mean, he was thrilled to get that diagnosis. Which says a lot in and of itself. His relationships were complicated. Glen and Jim accepted him on his own terms, though, and for who he was which I see as heroic. They were both there for Tom in so many ways, right up until this very end. 

And so yes, Glen is relieved although there is still so much to do. Tom left behind a whole lot of things. Mostly things he'd salvaged and/or scavenged from the side of the road which as you know, I am not adverse to at all. But one of the main problems is, is that these things were probably not nearly as valuable as Tom thought they were and besides that, he stored them in sheds which I doubt he even opened the doors of for many, many years. The roaches and wood-destroying insects alone must have had destroyed a lot of what he had. But of course, all of this must be gone through and decisions must be made over what to do with each item whether paintings or mantel pieces. And his judgement was not always good. He gave me a painting a few years ago he'd bought at an antique mall which he was very, very proud of and was sure was an original but it was so blatantly a print and besides that, was in deep disrepair. Forgive me, but I threw it out. 

So anyway, that is that. And Glen is off to go fishing and my god, he is happy. This is such a burden taken off his shoulders. He will never, ever have to go check on Tom to see if he's still alive, fearing that he'd get there and find his body. 
There was much good about Tom. He was very intelligent, and he was loyal. I believe he may have asked me to marry him once. 
Oh god.
He brought me cool things he'd scavenged like a plant stand or a little bird bath. 
This is my favorite thing he ever brought me. He got it from the dump and really, it's one of my favorite things period.

He gave it to me when I was tending my beloved chickens and before he'd had his cancer diagnosis and his strokes. He changed after those, of course, and I need to remember that he tried a little harder before those happened and who could blame him for withdrawing into himself more than ever, for becoming even less apt to want to socialize or please others? 

Speaking of throwing things out, I got almost no more cleaning done today because once again I was too distracted by wanting to de-clutter. I have three suitcases in my car to take to Goodwill and more things in the large laundry basket where I am stashing the things I want to take to Oak Tree Treasures. I have thrown things away. I have put things in drawers that I simply do not see anymore nor have I for years and I am now ready to just see mostly clean space where they were. 
Tomorrow perhaps we shall talk about family photos. This is a biggie. 

But here are a few pictures I took this morning of an almost perfectly camouflaged katydid. 

And the funniest thing happened today. Well, funny to me. 
I had a Christmas (or Easter, who knows?) cactus that was obviously dying. I mean, it was so far gone that I had no hope for it but knowing what people always say about them which is to just stick them somewhere and forget about them, I had set this one on the deck between the house and the old kitchen in a corner and yes, completely forgotten about it.
Today, I re-found it and I laughed so hard at what it looks like now. 

Hello, happy, healthy little plant! I'm sorry I bothered you. Here, let me put you right back where you were. I promise I won't bother you again for quite awhile. 

Besides family photos, I need to discuss crows and how we've discovered to attract them just in case you want to attract crows which seems to be a thing. You do not need to prepare entire crow charcuterie boards or cook high-protein meals for them. 
Tune in tomorrow for this simple hack! 

So much to look forward to! Hoo boy! 

And I am remembering what Ross said about looking up. I don't think Tom ever admired another person in this world the way he admired Ross. So, yeah. 
Look up and just give a thought to Tom, a very complicated person who will not suffer for one more second. 

Love...Ms. Moon

More Than Pottery Today

Did I already show you this? I went back and looked at last Wednesday's post which is pottery day, and I didn't see a photo of it so maybe not. That's the leaf platter I made using a...leaf. Easiest thing I ever did which was to press the leaf into the clay and trace around the perimeter and cut it out. I did put a base of sorts on it. Looking at the picture I realize I put it on the shelf to be fired with a lot of rough spots in it that I should have taken care of before now. After it's fired, I can sand things. 
Well, technically. 

What I worked on today was my next fish bowl. I'm hoping this will be a bowl. I left it to dry on another bowl which I'm using for a mold of sorts. Come to think of it, I probably should have left it inside the mold. 
Y'all- I'm not that bright. 

Ms. Lizzie was not there today as she is off on a wild adventure with her entire family AND Gentleman Caller. It's sort of like an annual reunion. All of the pictures I've seen are beautiful and filled with smiling happy people. 
Felisha got back from her trip to France with her aunts and despite the horrible heat, she had a GREAT time. It was good to see her. 
A few other people were missing too so it was a quiet class. 
Oh. Here's the fish. 

I need to branch out a little on the fish design, don't I? I saw a fired fish that a woman I know did that was so fucking awesome and just plain art that I feel completely inadequate now and honestly, this woman has always made me feel that way. And I'm sure she certainly does not mean to. Which somehow makes it even worse.
Anyway, the fish was a barracuda and had the fiercest teeth and tail you can imagine and I was in awe. 
Here I am with my silly little whimsical fishes with eye lashes rather than teeth, all resembling each other, but that's me. I am far more whimsy than I am barracuda. 

After pottery I met up Glen and Tom's other friend for lunch. As I think I may have said, he's the financial guy. They make a good team and enjoy each other's company so that is very good. They've both known Tom forever so they definitely have that in common. After talking to him today he and I realized that we know many, many people in common, most from the old, old days in Tallahassee where he lived before he moved to Seattle and learned the business he's been in for years and before he moved to St. Augustine. He and I had to have met. That's all there is to it. He used to regularly go see my ex-husband's band and we both spent plenty of time at all the same old haunts and we were throwing names around that I haven't thought of in years. 
It was cool and yet, it was also odd. How did this man whom I have no memory of know all the people who made up my past? 
Here's another odd thing- I feel quite disconnected to Tom's dying and he is indeed dying. He's in hospice now and hasn't been cognizant for a few days. He's getting morphine because he seems to be in pain. Every time someone tries to touch or move him he groans and pulls away. This is probably the most Tom's been touched in decades. Or maybe his entire life. I don't know. But it is not making him happy now. 
I know I should be feeling more compassion or perhaps sadness or empathy or all of those things but I simply don't. He had no desire to live like this and if he had a choice, he never would. Who among us would? He can't swallow food, he can't respond to speech, and as I said, he's probably in pain. 

But today Glen and the other friend visited an attorney, had a meeting with hospice, went to the funeral home to make those arrangements, and to several banks where Tom's accounts are. They are getting it done. The other friend drove home to St. Augustine this afternoon and Glen is going fishing on Friday. 
I guess all of us sort of feel like we played the parts we needed to play in Tom's life for many years and now it's time to let him go on. 
So we sat in the Cuban restaurant I love and had soup and Cuban sandwiches and talked about the old days and about our memories of Tom and I think that was a pretty good memorial service. 

I went to Costco and I went to Publix and I went to Target where I got two more pairs of men's cargo shorts. So it was a busy day for me. Nothing compared to going to appointments with lawyers and hospice and banks and a funeral home but let's face it- that is all so far out of my lane that I can't even imagine doing any of it. 

Here's a yellow zinnia with the sun illuminating it. It was almost shimmering with its color, its life-soul. 

And of course Maurice followed me out to the garden and lazed in the pine straw right beside some volunteer Thai basil that I've just let grow up where it will. 

She rolled in the pine straw which probably felt good to her, batting and smelling the basil. 
My little orange tiger familiar. 

Jessie reported that she and Liz Sparks got to meet up today and had a good hike and a nice cold swimming hole dip and then journeyed up to Pisgah where they ate ice cream bars and looked over the mountains from the beautiful view there. 

I betcha Liz will write about it on her blog. And by the way, she was at Jessie's birth. 

Isn't it funny how things come full circle in our lives? Funny and also rather amazing. 

I think so. 

God, it's hot. 

Not too humid though!

And actually, it's only 91 degrees on the back porch where I am. Not so bad. Not so bad at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon