Eat Up! With Jesus!

 
We're finally, and at long last, getting some rain. It's certainly not a downpour but it's enough to green up the grass some, to perhaps give the beauty berries the fortitude to stand up a little straighter, and cheer the birds enough for them to talk about it in their own various bird languages. Do you suppose birds have different accents depending on where they live? Different dialects? Does a cardinal in Texas sound exactly like a cardinal in Florida? I'm sure someone's studied that. 

Glen and I are taking the credit for bringing on this rain. He's been watering those fruit trees as if their lives depended on it, and they do while I hung out the laundry this morning. Mainly sheets.

In fact, I barely got my sheets off the line before it started raining because we were on our way back home from Monticello when the sky began to bruise and the thunder began to clap. But I got them in, still dry, and all is well. They're back on the bed now. 
I'll be sleeping on them alone tonight as Glen has gone to the coast to get up early and go fish for gag grouper. Don't ask me what a gag grouper is or why it's called a gag grouper. I'm sure there's a reason but even if I found out, I would forget before two days had passed because my brain is only accepting important calls for retention and often not even those and I'm not really curious enough to just look it up to satisfy that sort of itch so what's the point? 
Well, I lied. I looked them up and I'm glad I did because there is a very interesting fact about them which is that all gag groupers are born female but some transition into males later on in life. And now I'm wondering whether or not the individuals who turn into males make a choice to do that or does it just happen randomly? Are the fish surprised when they wake up to realize they are now of the male gender? 
Probably not. I am far to quick to anthropomorphize, aren't I?

So Mr. Moon had some legal stuff he had to go to an official office of some sort to get prints and copies made and of course this involves Tom's estate. There's a little office in Monticello where he could get that done. I was eager for another shot at Wag the Dog and perhaps another place, too, if there was time. So we both got dressed in more socially acceptable clothing and I even put on a bra-like garment and off we went. He dropped me at Wag while he went to get the papers printed. 
Wag was very, very good to me today. I believe that anyone who thrifts realizes that going shopping at one of these places in hopes of finding a specific item is rarely rewarded by finding that item. I believe it's best to just go with open eyes and an open heart. As soon as I walked in the door I saw a display of glassware which included five nice martini glasses, all of different colors. Five of them for sixteen dollars. A steal! 
And no, of course I don't need any more martini glasses but I am fond of them and these looked to have never been used as the little stickers on the bottom that said, "Handwash Only" were still attached but in such a way that I think if they had been washed, even by hand, they would have peeled right off. And anyway, it doesn't matter. So I gathered the glasses up and took them to the register and the woman behind the counter said she'd wrap them for me while I was shopping. 
Monticello has some mighty sweet people in it. 
I looked through clothes, found nothing. There was a good selection of lamps but none I needed in the least, the cookware did not excite me, the sewing and crafts things were not treasure-worthy, and the placemats were nothing I'd use. However, I did find four Vera Wang napkins for $2.50 and they are quite nice. 
While I was going through the knickknacky china stuff, my eye fell on a tray that I was immediately drawn to. I couldn't tell if it was ceramic or plastic but it turned out to be made of a very heavy plastic, a resin? Yes. Resin I think. 
It wasn't the material the tray was made of that drew me to it though, it was the print of the woman's face on it. 

I've done some searching and the image on the platter may have been originally painted by a woman named Alja Horvat. 
Whoever, whatever, I picked it up, felt its heft, set it back down. It cost ten dollars which is pretty high for a plastic tray at Wag the Dog. 
When I'd finished up with my survey of the entire place though, my feet took me right back to this lady who knew without a doubt that I'd return and buy her. Her stare dared me not to. 
I did not have the strength to resist. 

So I bought my glasses and my tray and some lovely satin ribbon and then Mr. Moon and I went to lunch at place where I don't really enjoy eating because, once again, Jesus is prominent on all the walls via those plaques you can buy at the Dollar General that say things like, "In this place we shall worship Jesus Christ, our savior and redeemer." 
Talk about being eat up with that shit. You just can't avoid it in small towns in the south. 
The owner wore a t-shirt that said, "Redeemed" in case we didn't get the picture and it would appear that she did something in the entertainment world at one point as there were quite a few pictures of her with celebrities and near-celebrities on the wall when she was a lot younger. 
And possibly not yet redeemed. 
The funny and frustrating part about the restaurant for me was that everything I asked for from the menu they were out of. To begin with, they were out of iced tea. 
This is like going to a Waffle House and discovering they are out of Waffles. 
Sigh. Water was fine. 
They didn't have the chicken salad salad, they didn't have the Caprese salad, they didn't have the grilled chicken sandwich.
"Get a wrap!" the owner told me. It didn't sound like a suggestion but more of a command.
"I don't really like wraps," I said. And I don't. 
I finally ended up with a bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado sandwich with potato salad and they were all good but the bread on the sandwich was Wonder Bread and I shit you not. 
Still. Not bad. 
Glen ordered a club sandwich which they also had so all was not lost. That too, came on Wonder Bread. 
Here's a thing that was on the table:

I have to say that even for Monticello, this place was pushing it. 

We crossed the street after lunch and went to the antique/vintage store for a short run-through. Another extremely tall man began a conversation with Glen, asking him how tall he was and it went from there. This guy had been a football player, although he'd loved basketball. I take it he just didn't have the necessary skills. They traded stories about their glory days but I don't think either one of them is the kind of man to be stuck back there. Still, I have come to realize that people who spent a portion of their life playing a team sport and playing it well, will never forget the experience and can't help but look back on it with some wonder and also pride. I think Glen's basketball career had a lot to do with the sort of man he turned out to be. 
And hell, at least he got to go to Europe. 

I took a picture of myself upstairs in the vintage place, right down the hallway from where I found Dorothy Anne. 

I wore the Is He Dead shirt and I do not think one person actually noticed it. They were all too busy concentrating on their "Redeemed" shirts. 
Each to our own. 

Here's a picture I took because I wasn't sure if it was an art installation or just a temporary place to put a mannequin bust. 

Could be both. One never knows. 

We didn't buy a dang thing in the vintage place. I was hoping to find a string of pearls for Levon but did not. 

On our way out of town we stopped at the farmer's market.

Glen wanted a 25 pound bag of raw, jumbo peanuts to roast and of course, they can be crow food too. I got some peaches and some onions and a few sweet potatoes. 

When we got home I decided to do some culling and clearing of one part of my kitchen where I keep a lot of glassware and bowls and platters and trays and other things that I don't use from year to year. I wanted to do this so I could fit my new tray and martini glasses in and so, I have done that. 

Another art installation, I do believe. 

That area looks a little more tidy and perhaps, slowly, slowly, I shall get rid of even more. 

I already have several things promised to the children and in fact, my hallway is looking a bit like a yard sale staging area. 

It feels good to pass these things on to the next generation. 
They're going to get whatever of them they want eventually and I'd like to clear my spaces now and am feeling relatively unattached to a lot of it. Many of these things made me happy at an earlier time of my life and now, well, if I want a platter with a stern and beautiful woman on it, holding five martini glasses, so be it. 

As you can see, I still have a goodly plenty of bowls. But you know what? I am getting rid of a few of them. I can easily see getting rid of more.

The other end of the porch. It's stopped raining and according to the garden cart rain gauge, we did not get a lot. 
Still. Better than none. 

Can we comment yet on blogger blog comments? I hope they fix this situation. Please know that if I generally comment on your blog, I have no doubt read your post from today, I just couldn't leave my footprint. 

Oh well, probably does us all good to have a comment free day, both on the making and receiving ends of the deal. Really, there are no rules. 

Here's your weekly shot of joy, this time provided by The Boss and Little Stevie Van Zandt. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon