She Shall Be Missed

I am sure that a great many of us have one or more of these beautiful kitchen towels hanging off their oven doors. They were all made by a woman named Joanne Noragon who wove each and every one of them on her very cool old loom and sold them via the internet from a link on her blog which was named Cup on the Bus. 
And just as many of us have her towels, many of us read a post on that blog a few days ago written by her daughter telling us that Joanne had just been diagnosed with a tumor that was really not appropriate to treat considering Joanne's age and general state of health. And Joanne, being Joanne, chose to simply go into hospice and let things happen as they would. As her daughter Beth said, "And if there is one thing Joanne has always been very clear about, it is that she intends to make her own decisions about how she lives- and how she leaves."
I thought that was beautiful, true, and exactly Joanne. 
And she didn't waste any time. She got the job done, leaving on her own terms just a few days later. I would expect no less from a woman who was so incredibly determined, intelligent, and strong in so many ways, including her beliefs. 
The world will be poorer for her loss and it was made richer by her presence here. She was an inspiration to so many of us. I know she was to me. And she educated me on how one can accept and adapt as age requires changes.
She fought the good fight in so many ways. She raised her family on her own, she did not suffer fools gladly, she was an artist, an artisan, and generally just one hell of a woman. 
She will be missed. I feel so fortunate that I got to know her in this strange and magical way and that I have tangible objects she made with her own hands that I will probably use for the rest of my life. And every time I do use one, I will think of her. I will think of Joanne. 

I needed to say that. 

There is very little else I need to say this evening. It's been another slow day. Glen and I did go to Waffle House this morning for breakfast instead of having our usual Sunday morning breakfast on the back porch that I'd made. He invited me, I accepted. It would have been so very perfect if it hadn't been so damn cold where we were sitting. 

How ungrateful of me to complain about being cold while eating a nice breakfast that someone else made, especially in light of all the moaning and bitching I've been doing about the heat here. 

Oh- here's something. 

Another crow gift. Mr. Moon found it, not on a stump but right next to it when he was watering the fruit trees. Although it looks a bit too large and heavy for a crow to carry in its beak, it is not. Our crows are huge and what looks like a stone is really only a piece of masonry that came from a pile of glass bricks we have piled up right next to where the stumps are and is not very heavy at all. There is no other other explanation for what it was doing there. As Glen said, it didn't just fly over the fence and land by the stump on its own. 
Here we are, seventy-two years old and fascinated and excited about the feeding of crows and becoming part of their exchange system. 
I certainly didn't see this coming and yet, as they say, here we are. 

And here I go to pop the meatloaf and baking potatoes into the oven.  
Popping the meatloaf and baking potatoes into the oven is about the most fifties phrase I can think of. 
And yet, again, here we are. 

The spiderwebs are back. 

Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon