In Which I Finally Get To Hold A Bebe And Other Delightful Things

I took that photo yesterday morning before we packed up to leave for home. I loved catching the looks between Bop and Levon, an entire story right there.
We're home now, Mr. Moon and I, and it's so hard to believe that only two nights ago we were fixing supper for the family in that North Carolina house which was so sweetly held in the peace and quiet of the green of the trees and the plants. It was a mighty fine vacation. 
Somehow we got up early enough on Tuesday morning to get the whole house cleaned out and everything packed up and loaded into our cars by ten. Jessie and I had done a great deal of the preliminary organizing the night before and packing of some of the things we wouldn't need the next morning. I am always amazed at how quickly and efficiently Jessie can do this whereas I am generally standing around holding an almost empty box of crackers wondering what in hell I should do with them. 
And then, finally, we were pretty sure we'd gotten everything but of course you always feel as if you've forgotten something and chances are good that you have. In this case, I haven't discovered one thing that Glen and I left behind. 
Now one of the most stressful parts of these NC trips for me is deciding where we're going to stay on the way there and on the way back. We could do the trip all in one day but that's just too long and neither one of us is good at sitting for that long so we split it up, mainly because we can. Glen had chosen the place we stayed on the way up, the somehow, somewhat haunted inn in Abbeville. And on Sunday night (I think) I was freaking out and Glen had chosen a route to drive home where it would be good timing to stay in Macon for a night. Now we have stayed in Macon before and that's a whole other story but the choices always seem to either be the Quality Inn by the interstate or one of the many restored mansions-undoubtably-built-by-recently-freed-enslaved people and they are generally B&B's which mean you HAVE TO TALK TO STRANGERS AT BREAKFAST which is not ideal. At all. These mansions are incredibly impressive with columns as big around as school busses and the more columns the merrier. We've stayed at one twice and it's pretty nice but I wasn't overwhelmingly desirous of staying there again. 
So while I was in my state of saying that I hated doing this, I couldn't do this, I just couldn't, Jessie took control, as she so often does, being the boss of me, and with the help of Chat GP and who knows what else, she found several places, one of which made us laugh so hard because the website really stressed their pool and how relaxing it was to hang out by it and the picture of it showed an above ground thing like you'd buy at Walmart and every time we looked at it again, we'd go into another bout of hysterical laughter. 
She found a place in Macon she insisted was the one we wanted. I was totally against it as it was another mansion. In fact, it was called The Burke Mansion. 
Sigh. 
"No," I said. "I just can't." 
Plus it cost an arm and a leg. 
She wasn't having it. "You can afford it, come on! Just enjoy it!" 
Finally I caved because she told me to although I was none too happy about it. 
We had a pretty rough drive on the way there. Although Glen had plugged in "avoid highways" to the map quest, we ended up on a major highway that circles Atlanta and that was stressful and traffic kept backing up and honestly, it was a sort of hell. We shall never do that again. 
But we got to the Burke Mansion and it was impressive although it had normal sized columns, relatively, and yes, the place was filled with antiques and paintings and chandeliers like a miniature Biltmore mansion but the woman who checked us in was sort of a hoot and our room was downstairs. Also, there was a room for the imbibing of cocktails with a bottle of bourbon, a bottle of vodka, thick crystal glasses and an ice bucket. Help yourself! 
But the best thing was how the woman brought up her seven month old son and I swear, she is so in love with that baby that when she talked about him, she became a completely different person and of course I loved that. Turns out the baby stays with her at work. She and her boyfriend are virtually the only employees at the place and she does all the front of house stuff including taking reservations, paying bills, checking people in, dealing with problems, cooking the breakfasts AND doing the cleaning. 
Good Lord. 
All with the baby right there. They live on site. So I got to meet the baby and he was the cutest dang baby you can imagine and as I said, this mama was convinced that she has the best, most amazing, wonderful, terrific baby in the world and my thoughts on the matter are that every baby deserves to have someone love them like that. 
So of course I loved that. 

We got into our room and I was so tired, so ready to weep and order pizza and go to bed but Mr. Moon wanted us to go out to dinner and so we found a place close by that sounded okay. After a little bit of the house vodka and soda I felt somewhat better and even applied make-up to my old and weary face and we made our way to the restaurant. It was in downtown Macon, very plain in that cool way, not overdecorated at all but comfortable and giving the impression of letting the food be the star of the show. They were very close to closing time and I know how eye-rollingly unhappy the employees of a restaurant can be when someone shows up right before closing time. They just want to get the side work done, clean up, and get the hell out of there but we called beforehand and they graciously said for us to come on, it had been a slow night, and so we took them at their word. 
I am so glad we did. 
I'm not going to tell you the name of the restaurant because I want to tell you that when we walked in, there were no other customers besides a few guys at the bar who appeared to be friends with the bartender and server, and the smell of what I am quite sure was legal weed was quite strong. 
Obviously, the closing process had begun. 
The server and bartender were lovely and assured us that we were quite welcome and we ordered martinis because we were throwing caution and money to the wind. We split a caprese salad which was about the most perfect thing I'd ever eaten. Plenty of mozzarella, split cherry tomatoes, basil leaves, and a balsamic reduction. 
Shut up. God it was good.
And then because we were in the mood for some red meat cooked by someone who knows how to do it, we split a small filet with mashed potatoes and some sort of seriously delicious sauce and it was the absolute perfect amount of the absolutely perfect foods we wanted. 
By the time we were finished, which was not very long after 9:00, the chef, possible owner, bartender and server were having glasses of wine at the bar and we felt completely satisfied and happy and we didn't feel as if we'd pissed anyone off too badly. 
Gosh. It really was a fine meal. One to remember. 

Macon at night.

I would really love to spend a few days in Macon. It's a very cool town with a lot of history, and not all of it the history of insanely rich white people. 
One of these days. 

We got back to our room before 9:30. 
It was a very charming room. 

The bed was so high that it came with steps. 

I ended up not using them but hoisting myself up on my tiptoes and throwing myself onto the bed. Getting out of bed was fun. I sort of slid down it like a ride at the fair. Or, a slide at a playground. Something like that. 

We were probably asleep by 10:30 and woke up just in time for our scheduled 9:00 breakfast. 
Okay. Now here comes the part about having to talk to strangers in B&B's at breakfast. 
The couple sitting with us was from Chicago originally, but now live near Tampa because they're retired. So, not unlike people who have perhaps had a little too much to drink, some people you meet in such situations feel the need to tell you, if not their life stories, than at least far more than you need to know or want to know about themselves. 
I felt immediately that these were not my people and that I had no real desire to know a damn thing about them. Is that rude and mean?
Yes. Yes it is. 
The man of the couple started in on how much he loves to fish in the Gulf and gave Glen a short tutorial on how to go about doing that. "I've been learning about the salt now for quite awhile!" he announced.
The salt? What the fuck? 
"Fishing and golf are my life!" he said. 
Glen, being the sweet and patient man he is did not even try to tell the guy that yes, he too knew how to fish "the salt."
The woman of the couple was one of those people who felt the need to add details to whatever her husband was saying while also giving us the story of her entire family and his, too. He was one of nine children. I'm thinking Catholic which is neither here nor there but does inform my actions a few moments later in our conversation. 
I was almost rudely silent, nodding here and there, as the sweet mama woman served us the delicious breakfasts she had made. But I did nod and say things like, "Oh wow!" occasionally.
Finally when the conversation had stalled, I asked her, "So. Do you live in, like a community?" 
"Oh yes! A gated community! It's really nice. Lots of flora!" 
Yeah. I knew it. 
Then she proceeded to tell me about how their next door neighbor was also from Chicago so they were great friends and shopping buddies but that they spent most of their shopping time at Hobby Lobby. 
I told myself, "Mary, just let it be. Just. Let. It. Be."
But I could not. I said, "I've never been to Hobby Lobby. I do not support the politics of the owners."
Ooh boy. She gave me the whole, "I don't care about politics. This is America and what makes it great is that everyone can feel the way they want to and that should not get in the way of our enjoyment and I just treat everyone I meet in the nicest way possible..." 
Etc. 
I just sat and nodded some more. I didn't say another word. Aren't you proud of me? 
I was going to mention how the company refused to give insurance to women employees that would cover birth control but my tiny brain computed the fact that they were probably Catholics. I mean- once again- nine kids? 
That pretty much ended the conversation and off they went but not until the man had had announced that he'd set the AC on in their Tampa home via his phone so that it would be cool when they got home. 
Okay. I did say, "So. You're one of the people who actually does that?"
I should not be taken out in public. 

But then the best, best thing happened. 
You know how I am always threatening to steal a baby? How I'd take a bad baby that no one wanted? 
Well, Rihanna, the woman who does it ALL at the Burke, came out with baby Christopher on her hip and I shyly asked her if I could hold him. 
"Yes! Of course!" she said. 
Y'all. 
I died and went to heaven. 

And while I was holding that sweet, solid baby, his mama told us all about his birth and showed us pictures of that child she adored so at different ages and described what her days and nights are like, doing the work she does while taking care of her baby boy. Not in a complaining way at all. Just in a this-is-my-life-and-how-I-do-it-way.
And then, I cleared the table and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen because at that point, I had fallen a little bit in love and I wanted to do what a granny woman would do. 
What a strong and amazing woman. 

I will not forget that stay in a very long time. 

The stained glass in our room that made me feel as if perhaps the deities approved our activities when the sun suddenly came bursting through it. 

Well, so yes. There is more. Our drive home and our soul-food lunch, somewhere in Georgia. 

Praise the lord and pass the hot sauce. 

And the fact that I finished reading "The Yearling" about ten minutes before we got to our house. I was crying so hard on the last few paragraphs that I could barely choke out the words. I had to keep stopping to try and get control of myself. 
Dear Lord, I love that book. 

Mark. 
Bless him. He not only left the house in a perfectly clean and tidy manner, he left us treats.

And flowers. 

I cried some more. 

I have everything unpacked and put away except my suitcase and that's just clothes so no problem. I can do that tomorrow. 

A quick tour of the garden resulted in this.

There are about four inches of field peas below those vegetables. 

More field peas. 

And a cucumber the size of...well. Go ahead. Let your imaginations run wild. 
Or don't. 

Queen Maurice seems to be happy we have returned although she's going to be very pissed when she realizes that I do not deliver the treats the way Mark does. 

La-di-dah. 
La-di-dah.

We are home. 

Love...Ms. Moon