Now And Then

 There's a guy who's making a career doing little films and also appearances about Florida. The funky and the fantastic. The grit, the goofiness, and the gators. The unbelievable and the unbearable (insects, heat, pollen, hurricanes, and so forth). The absurd and the abnormal. The ridiculous and the realities. 

He goes by the name of OMGitswicks and his Youtube channel can be found here. 
His tagline is "Only in Florida. Just glad I got it on my flip phone." 

In almost every video he shoots, he's holding some product from Publix, usually either from the deli or bakery. Oddly, he does not have any sort of monetary relationship with them. He damn well should though. And he is right- Publix is very Florida. Started here and spread from there. Not unlike pythons although not in that bad snaky way. 

Today when I was headed to Melissa's to get my hair cut, I got behind that truck you see at the top and OMGitswicks' words came to my mind. 
I am sure there are other states in which you might see a pick-up truck with a black tarp in the back being held down by a watermelon and a pineapple but still...
Florida keeps Floridaing for sure. 
To top the the drive off as a true Florida experience, I was late to the appointment because traffic was slowed from three lanes to one on the main highway into town. The reason for the lane blocks was that the signs directing people to the Tallahassee International (hahahahahahahahahaha!) Airport were being switched out to the signs directing people to the Bobby Bowden Tallahassee International Airport. 
Now, YOU may have never heard of Bobby Bowden but if you're from Tallahassee you know beyond doubt who the man was. He was the football coach for the Florida State Seminoles forever and was regarded as a saint, a savior, and the best good ol' boy this country has ever produced. I will say that there was never even a whiff of a scandal about him despite the fact that he was a major "in the name of Jesus" sort of guy which is usually a red flag. 
Seriously, he was revered. He died in 2021 at the age of 91 and his name shall ne'er be forgot. 
DeSantis just signed the legislation two days ago making the new name official and I suppose that it was never in doubt that it would pass if the signs are already made and being put up. 

It's been a Florida day. As I suppose all of mine are for the most part. 

It was good to see Melissa. No, it was GREAT to see Melissa. I got to catch up on a lot of what's going on in her world. I'm not going to name names or shame names or blame names but I will say that the constant news about one of her husband's relatives is hardly to be believed. 
This person BOUGHT a hospital somewhere in Central America (I think) for a doctor who cared for this person's husband before he died, and for whom this person developed a strong friendship with.
And that is just one example. 
Her own husband, a man I met through blogging is truly one of the best people in the world, along with Melissa. They were childhood sweethearts, they lost track of each other, re-met in their forties, and here they are, together again. He is the man Hank and Rachel chose to officiate at their wedding.
It's a love story, y'all. And when I say "love," I don't just mean they love each other. I mean they are loved by all who know them. 

And oh yeah, she cut my hair. She agreed that I had lost some but that she, too, thinks it's growing back and not so bad. 
Did I mention how sweet she is? 
So she just took off some inches and it is now shorter than it has been in, well, many, many decades. 

I hate pictures of my face. That thing that looks like a zit there? It's not. It's just a zit-looking red spot. The main thing is that I can still put my hair up which was of utmost importance. I remember one time when Gibson was a little boy and I had my hair down which made him uncomfortable. He kept looking at me as if I might morph into a monster any second. I put it up again and he looked at me and said, "Now you look like the real Mermer." He was so relieved. 

Just for fun and because I am rather astounded, I will show you a picture of me from between thirty-five and forty years ago, I think. Glen was showing August and Levon pictures of him from his basketball career and found it. 

I'm pretty sure that was taken at the Gibson Inn in Apalachicola. The astounding thing to me is that I had no idea whatsoever that I was a fairly good-looking woman. I mean, I knew I wasn't ugly although all women (and possibly some men) may feel ugly at times. But the thing is, we cannot and do no see ourselves as others see us. Because I am no longer the same woman in that picture in so many ways, I look at it quite differently than I did then when I probably hated it. 
I remember that shirt which was a beautiful blue silk blouse. And the skirt was a long, longtime favorite of mine. I bought it from Tweeds, a catalog-only company as far as I know. I had several pieces of clothing from them, including two dresses that my friends and I shared around as we did back then. The silver bracelets I still have. 
The hair? I do not. 
Glen put the picture up on the refrigerator and I asked Levon if he didn't think I was pretty back then and he answered, as only the smartest and best men will, "You are still pretty." 
He was parroting his Boppie but that is okay. 
And I think I should use the reaction I have to that picture now as a lesson- I do truly hate to have pictures taken of my face now but if by some miracle I live to be eighty, I will probably look back at that picture I took of me today and think, "You had no idea how good you looked then."
As the saying goes, we will never be younger than we are today. 

Tomorrow I am staying home. I SWEAR! I could get up at the ass-crack of dawn and go up to the lake with Glen to check out the new floor but that is simply not going to happen. He can take pictures and send them to me. 

I feel so very behind in all of my chores and need-to-do's around here. I haven't even kicked bamboo since Sunday and god knows that is a big mistake. The truth is is that I haven't been feeling the best and I'm not sure why but perhaps tomorrow I will wake up feeling clearheaded and strong and positive in every way! 
And of course pigs will be flying out of my butt. 

Oh, oh! 
My today's picture with the new iPhone camera which does not have a macro lens. 

These are the extremely tiny blooms of a succulent I have growing in front of the window in the laundry room. 
Here's a picture which shows them more in scale. 

I am figuring out how to do this. 

Love...Ms. Moon

From Here To There And There To Here And All That Comes Between

When I get to Jessie's house on Wednesday mornings, Sophie greets me at the door. She doesn't bark at me except for a "Hello! Grandmer!" greeting. And she races to find a treasure to show me. Of course I always tell her how beautiful she is and how smart. Such a good girl. 

Pottery today was one of the quiet-type days. Or at least a little bit quiet. Everyone was concentrating on what we were doing for the most part, involved in our own projects. We did ask questions and offer advice and of course we praised each other's work. This is what we do. Our Lizzie was not there as she's been far, far away visiting one of her children and their family. We missed her of course. She will be back next week.

My latest fish spoon rest, the one I've made for Billy, was out of the kiln and I was quite happy with it. 

I love how each one I make is a little more sure of itself than the one I made before it, both in design and in colors. These fishes make me very happy and I am so enjoying making them. That first one I made was the thing that liberated me from feeling so very inadequate because my pottery was not anything like it was "supposed" to look but now I realize that it's not just "pottery," it's also ceramics. Today after I finished the work I needed to do on my hibiscus, I had just a few moments left in class and so I started a new fish. A smaller one. Not a spoon rest fish but one that will hang on a wall. My plan is to make several of them, similar in size but of different designs and colors with an attachment for hanging it on a wall. Before class was over I got it to the point where it can sit and dry so it can go into the kiln for a first firing next week although I MAY go by the studio and put it on the shelf for firing before then. I would like to. Same with my hibiscus which needs a little more drying time, especially the part that has the fancy stuff at top. Last time I tried to name those parts but I think I got gently corrected in a comment which is fine but I'm tired and not up to the challenge tonight. But you can see what I'm talking about here.

One would hardly think that very small piece took me well over an hour to do but indeed it did. I also added three marble-sized balls to the bottom to act as a base which took some experimenting to find where their placement should be because as Jessie pointed out, parts of the flower have a lot more clay and will tip it if I don't. 
"It's physics," she said. 
"Yes, and I failed physics," I answered. 
That is a lie. I did, however, get a D in the class. I believe it was the only D I ever got except for that semester at University of Denver where I crapped out entirely due to depression and, okay, possibly drug use. I will say that I think the drug use was completely related to the depression. I was self-medicating any way I could. And the fact that I'd moved in with a drug dealer had something to do with that too. 
Oh god. 
Well, it happened. I survived. And when I went back to nursing school in the eighties, I did quite well. 
Except for that damn D in physics. 

So that was pottery and then of course Jessie and I went to lunch which makes three days in a row I have gone to lunch and guess what? 
Good for me. 
We went to a Thai restaurant and I was so hungry I ordered not only a bowl of Tom Kha soup but also an entire entree with shrimp and eggplant and other delicious vegetables. And rice. 
About 70% of it is in my refrigerator right now. Good! That will be at least one, if not two more meals for me. 

I went to the library after I dropped off my girl and came home to find Mr. Moon in the yard, seemingly trying to free Billy's Paw-Paw's old tractor from the vines. 
It was at least 85 degrees out there. 
He'd spent hours trying to set up the new internet in the house and was done, done, done. He'd come to a river he could not cross and was as frustrated and furious as I was yesterday. As he was yesterday. 
And in an entirely different issue, he could not get Siri to speak to him and I have to tell you that Glen and Siri have a vocal communication relationship that I teeter on the edge of jealousy about.

He came in the house and cooled down and then together we figured out a few things and he took it all from there again and we now have a new internet service which seems very good and which is a lot less expensive. 
And he and Siri are back on speaking terms. 

The best thing is that he feels more confident about his abilities, as well he should. Technology can make all of us feel like demented dumb asses and we're not! 
Okay, maybe some of us are. I would hate to tell you how long it took me to figure out how to connect my hearing aids with their app on my new phone. And that's a whole other story. 

BUT, as I told my husband, change is always going to be hard and frustrating but we can and we will manage to figure it out. It may take the help of younger family members, tech-help lines, Googling to try and find an answer to our questions, and god knows what else. And that is okay.

I am so sorry I have not answered comments again today nor have I read and commented on all of your blog posts. Wednesdays start early and often end late. Throw in some new phone and internet problems which suck up so much time and, well, it is what it is. 

And so it goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Orchids at Jessie's house. 
I'm thinking this camera might just be okay. 

First World Fucking Problems

 

I am so fucking frustrated and disappointed right now. I am feeling the angry, inadequate way that only technology issues can make me feel. And then I feel stupid guilty because these things are simply the most stereotypical of stereotypical First World Problems. 
Ooh, Ms Moon. You're telling us that the brand new iPhone Air does not have a macro function and that is a deal breaker?
You're fucking right. 
Also, to add to my ridiculous complaints, changing over to these phones was a process that took almost all day if you include the hour or so required for Mr. Moon and I to attempt to do that on our own AND find cords that can be used to charge these phones because of course, every fucking device has different charging equipment. And then we went to Costco where a dude who was probably the fastest and most talented person in the world when it came to multi-tasking helped us transfer the contents of our old phones onto the new ones. 
This took quite awhile because of course we had to get all the updates on the old phones before they'd tell the new phones they could start sucking all the data from their guts. 
Fine. This was Fucking Fine. We left Costco and went to lunch and somehow managed to make it through that without our phones although I reached for mine several times to look things up. And then we went to Walmart which is in the same general shopping area as the Costco where we got cases for the new phones as well as screen protectors. These new phones are far thinner and lighter than any that have come before them and I can imagine them flying out of our grasp at least ten times a day. 
So we did that too and you KNOW how much I fucking love Walmart. 

Back to Costco where transfers were complete, la-la-la! Happy Days are here again! We'd taken two cars because Mr. Moon had other errands to run and I wanted to just come home. For some reason, I was able to access the new phone, or at least enough to listen to my audio book on the way home but once I got here, the fucking thing demanded my passcode to open the fucking phone and my passcode would not work. It would fucking not work. 
I figured that somehow (I know how but I'm not here to blame anyone) my phone now wanted Mr. Moon's passcode and I finally located that and Viola! I was in. 

Now. This is where I go into my fury and frustration. Should I say "fucking fury and frustration?" Why not? 
This phone's camera does not have a macro function and as we all know, my blog posts cannot be my blog posts without that. It does have what they claim is a superior telephoto function and okay, cool. But I love my macro function. I am no photographer but as a person who adores the tiny, the miniature within the larger overall, I have to have it.
And so after about ten minutes, I was ready to pitch the fucking thing into the fucking trash and go back to my old iPhone. 
But. 
SCREECH! 
I just went outside to turn off the sprinklers decided to give it another chance. 
And this happened.

Late spirea blooms. 

And then this.

One of the garden roses.

And next this.

Tiny Thai basil sprouts.

And...

Sweet little arugula sprouts. 

I am thinking that if I just fucking apply myself to learning how this camera works, it might be okay. 

If it's not, if I can't, I'll return the new one and go back to my old one. We got these new ones as part of the package deal with our change of carrier and internet which will cost less than than the one we had. Already I do believe that the cell reception in our house is better than what we had before. We haven't yet hooked up the new modem. Or is it a router?
What the fuck ever. 

I have calmed down although I still feel as I'm not going to get a fucking thing done around here this week. Yesterday was lunch in town and shopping day, today was new phone day, tomorrow is pottery day, and Thursday is go see Melissa and get my hair cut day. Somehow, a forty-five minute appointment will take up my entire day. You just watch.
Sigh. 

Oh well. I have calmed down. The new phone seems to work fine in all other regards. I think I'm going to have some situations with passwords and so forth but that's the way it is. These, too, will make me feel like a fucking techwad. 
I just made that word up. 

I am looking forward to working on my hibiscus tomorrow. I wonder if my newest fish spoon rest is out of the kiln. I hope so. 

Meanwhile.

Again. Not THAT fucking bad.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose. And So Forth

I've written about this rose before and how the man we bought this house from advised me that when it came time to prune it, to smoke a great big joint and proceed from there. 
Well, to my sometimes sorrow, I don't enjoy the effects of cannabis so I've never tried that but up until this year, I have managed to get it pruned and mostly weeded out once a year, at least. 
This is what it looks like right now.

Shameful and neglected. There are at least five kinds of weeds growing around it and all of them...you guessed it! Invasive. Pulling them is even more challenging due to the fact that the thorns on the rose canes are rhinoceros-hide pierce-worthy. This is also what makes trimming the vines a perilous procedure. Despite the fact that I have not come within ten feet of touching the plant this spring, much less doing anything to take care of it, it is blooming about as well as it always does.
Which is to say- few but powerful blooms appear. The scent of these roses is exactly what roses are supposed to smell like and get outta my face with all your fancy hybrids that don't smell like anything. 

I really am not sure what variety of rose this is. I believe it is either a Damask Rose or a Cecile Bruner climbing rose. I keep reading about the differences between those two and there are some things that make it squarely fit into one catagory, and some in the other. Both are quite old, especially the Damask which has been around since the 1300's, I think. The Cecile Bruner is a Victorian era rose. 
Whatever it is, it is hardy as hell and can climb like nobody's business. There are canes that have reached up and into the magnolia tree which abuts it, attaining a height of twenty feet or more so far. 
I do love this plant and it's flowers and I swear I will at least get around to weeding the bed it's in. The building behind it is the old well-pump shed where many things go to die around here. Things that someone does not have a need for at the moment but could quite possibly in the future. 
Someone being mostly Glen but also me. I have Kathleen's soap-making supplies in there and of course I'm never going to use them and they're probably all too old but I just can't bring myself to dump them. I will. Eventually. 

 

Also, eventually, if I don't get on it, that rose is going to eat the shed.
And I suppose that as usual, Shakespeare got it right and a rose by any other name...

The task of taking care of that beauty is one more thing I have on my to-do list in this yard. I get so overwhelmed that I am paralyzed. I've said this before. Even recently. But it's completely true. I know that if I just put on my overalls and grab the proper tools and the garden cart, I will begin and that is at least a start to it.

I didn't feel very energetic this morning and I understand why. I didn't do much physically with the boyos but there was quite a bit of emotional activity going on. The responsibility of keeping them alive is hard enough, keeping them happy, fed, and entertained is a horse of a different color. I don't think anyone says that anymore. Perhaps no one has said it since the Wizard said it in the Wizard of Oz movie. But you know what I mean. 

It took me hours to get myself motivated to go to town but finally I did with the kick in the ass I needed coming from Lily and Jessie who invited me to go to lunch with them. I needed to pick up my hormone prescription too, and that is of utmost importance. 
So I put on a bra-like garment and one of my new Flax dresses. The teal one which is almost the same color as one of my old favorites and off I went to town in my Prius, a stereotypical grandmother on the road of life. 
Or, the road of Buck Lake. 
We met at an Indian restaurant which is rather new and housed in the same building as the old Indian buffet which we loved but which did not survive Covid. This restaurant has no buffet but the food was delicious and the service was terrific and we had a good time. Owen called his mama when he got out of school, as he always does, and she invited him to stop in and join us on his way home, which he did. 
I don't care how often I see that boy (man), I am shocked all over again by his size. It's truly like it happened overnight. At least to me with my old brain which grows less than elastic every day. 
We ended the meal by boxing up all the leftovers and giving them to the growing boy (man) to take home and eat for a second lunch. I'd tell you all the delicious dishes we had but of course I've forgotten. Paneer, lentils, chicken, raita, garlic pita, and a lot of other things were involved. We shared. We also learned that at that particular restaurant, "mild" spice level is really too mild. I wonder if on the order the server writes, "WPM" for White Person Mild.
We debated the question of whether or not you can ask for hot sauce in an Indian restaurant. We meekly questioned the server and he said that no, they did not have hot sauce but he could bring us some chopped peppers and when he brought them to the table he warned us in no uncertain terms that they were HOT. 
They weren't that hot at all. 
But no one charged us an extra 75 cents, either. 

I went to Costco. I went to Publix. What else is new? 
I came home and took off my bra-like garment, unloaded everything and settled back into being home where I find my peace. 

When I went outside to take pictures of the Rose That Ate The Magnolia Tree, Maurice had to follow me out, as usual. She rolled around in the dirt, stretching and practicing her ballet moves.

Or are they jazz moves? 
Whatever they are, they are cat moves and as such, are graceful. 

On my abbreviated tour around the back yard, I checked a pot in which I had yet another giant begonia planted and did not bring in for the cold weather. Having two other pots with the begonias growing in them, I didn't even bother to cover them up. I had zero hopes of it having survived the freezes and yet...

A very small thing which brings me happiness. 

Should I comment on Trump The Christ Healing Lazarus?
No. No I should not except to say that it would seem that even his most ardent supporters are stepping back and saying, "Whoa." 
And other related things. 

I swear- he's going down. He's going down like a water mine in the Strait of Horuz. He also spoke of water boats.

And speaking of which, Mr. Moon has been out on his own water boat today after he got the floor guys all taken care of and they began their work. 

You know, water boats are the best kind of boats. Some say they are the most incredible boats of all. Some say they've never seen boats like water boats. 

I'll shut up now. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. If you want to hear about the first time I ever made soap with Kathleen, you can find that post HERE. 

There are other soap-making-with-Kathleen posts that I just went back and read and found to be pretty okay. If you haven't been here since the dawn of time and sometimes wonder about who this Kathleen was of whom I speak, these will give you some idea. Just put "making soap" into the search bar at the top left of my blog. 
I feel like all of that was another lifetime ago. And in a way, it was. But it is all still a part of my own lifetime and I honor and respect those experiences with Kathleen who is one of the most amazing, different sorts of person I've ever met. I could say "was" but she truly still "is". 
She is still alive in my heart and in the hearts of many, I am sure. 

Being Grandparents

August and Levon are still here and I keep trying to come up with something to occupy them that doesn't involve television or the Wii. So we went out and pulled up a few carrots. Those aren't very big but they'll be tender. I especially love the tripod alien one at the top there. So far this year I haven't found any that have made me giggle like a dirty-minded fifth-grader which is somewhat of a disappointment. I always love the slightly pornographic ones that often form. 

While we were outside, the guys climbed the mulberry tree.

That poor tree. Not only did all the developing fruit get nipped by the cold snap we had this year, but also the oak trees around it keep getting bigger and bigger as oak trees tend to do and they are shading it out. When I planted it some years ago, it took off like a rocket and gave me a fine crop every year. Not any longer. Perhaps we should cut that one down and plant another in the back yard directly behind the house in an area that gets more sun although that would probably shade out the limequat tree and blueberries, all of which did indeed survive the freeze. 

The chicken and dumplings last night were terrific, in my opinion. Plenty of chicken and lots of definitely not hard-as-rocks dumplings. The guys gave them their approval. 

After supper Levon had a bath and August had a shower and then it was time for root beer and vanilla ice cream floats. They were a little wired from probably not getting enough sleep the night before at Lily's. I asked August if they'd gotten any sleep there and he said, "Not much." 
They picked out an old favorite for me to read before lights out. "The Relatives Came" by Cynthia Rylant. We have discussed this book here many times. The reading of it and studying the fantastic illustrations by Stephen Gammell never gets old. Not for me and I do not think for the children either. 
Hmmm...
Perhaps I should consider getting a tattoo of one of the pictures in that book. 
I think this one might do nicely.

Yep. I can see our family gatherings in it. 

After the book and tuck-ins and a little back and head scratching, I turned the lights out and they were still going at it like little puppies but they settled down and were asleep before very long at all. 

By the time I got up this morning, the sun was way up. I do not know why I slept about an hour longer than I usually do but I did. I suppose I had to finish the epic dream I was having that involved a huge event at the Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City. Bits of things I've learned over the years from listening to "Mormon Stories" fit themselves into the dream here and there and my friend Sue was with me. We adventured! We were definitely sightseeing, not becoming Mormons. Don't worry. 

By the way, there was a lot of patriarchy going on. 
Also, as usual, I lost my purse and in a novel twist, my shoes. 

Sigh.

So I did feel a little bit guilty that I'd let the children go so long without eating because of course they are in danger of starving but Mr. Moon had given them some juice and they were watching TV so they didn't care and the sweetest thing happened. Every morning when I get up I go into the Glen Den and give Mr. Moon a morning kiss and this morning, I went over to the couch to give the boys a little hug but Levon put his lips right up for me to kiss and I gave him a little bird peck as a Mermer should, and August did the same. 
Now this might not sound like much but these are not the most outwardly affectionate children in the world. They just aren't. And of course I don't force the issue. So the voluntary presentation of pursed lips thrilled my soul and I made the best pancakes ever and bacon and scrambled eggs and Levon must be going through a growth spurt because he ate as much as his brother and Mr. Moon must also be going through a growth spurt because he ate even more. 

It's been a pretty laid back day. They went out with Bop and had some sort of bamboo kicking contest and they watched more TV and they played Wii for as long as I'd let them and there was a book reading and carrot harvesting and tree climbing. I took the trash and offered them the opportunity to come with me which for some reason, they declined. 
Say what?
I even went to the post office! What's wrong with this generation?

***********

Well, the parents have come and collected their sons. The bye-bye treat tonight was a freshly harvested carrot. They accepted that without a fuss. They really were the sweetest boys. No whining, no aw, man's, no real complaints. They did question me as to why wrinkles in the bed they were helping me make bothered me. 
"We don't mind wrinkles," said August. 
"Well, I do," I said, and explained my need to have nicely made beds to give me a sense of peace and comfort in my home every time I walk past them.
"We hardly ever see our beds," August told me.
"I see my beds many times a day," I told him, "And it's important to me."
They accepted that. 
Grandmothers are supposed to have strange quirks, aren't we? And of course, they are not to be questioned. 

All right. It's quiet here again in Lloyd. Tomorrow Mr. Moon will be getting up before the dawn to drive up to Lake Seminole as the guys who are doing the downstairs flooring are supposed to be there at 7:30. Three days and that will be done. 
A sort of epoxy finishing of the cement. We shall see how that turns out. 
As I see it, no matter how it turns out, he'll still be able to have a very, very good time fishing in the huge lake. 

Me? I believe there may be some recovery time necessary tomorrow although there is so much I feel I really need to do in this yard. 

Here's what one of the tomato plants is doing.

A tiny promise of deliciousness to come.

Love...Ms. Moon

Restaurant Politics, Bamboo, Rolling Stones, aka The Cockroaches

We have determined that we will never go back to the Hilltop again. 
Okay. It's not like a sworn oath or the way I feel about never going to Chik-fil-A but we have had it. 
First of all, there are definite MAGA vibes there but you can sort of see past that when you think about the fact that it is a totally family-run joint as far as I can tell and that people of all colors, occupations, sizes, shapes, ages, and whatever else differences there may be, are always welcome. Step up to the counter, order something from the huge menu, wait for your food, go back to the front of the place to pay for it, and either take it home or eat it out back on a picnic table under a covered area. 
So you know, that's all right. The ladies (always ladies) who do the food preparation and take orders work as hard as anyone I've ever seen. They are not there to be sweet. They are there to do a damn job. And as I've mentioned, I've seen a lot of children of employees grow up there, from the mamas pregnant with them to carrying them in slings as they work which is probably illegal, to setting them in highchairs behind the cake and deviled egg display cooler. 
Again- all good.
But recently a sign appeared in front of the door saying, "Cash Only." And another one in front of the counter where orders are taken. And one where you make your payment to the man (always the same man) whose job it obviously is to handle all the money. 
I imagine they're tired of having to pay the credit card and debit card fees but boy, does that make it inconvenient for their customers. Also, one has to wonder if the cash-only policy has anything to do with reporting taxes? 
Oh, probably not. That would just be too obvious.
Still. 
And then today when Lily and her kids and August and Levon and Glen and I all met up there for lunch and I went to the counter to ask for hot sauce and they gave me small plastic cup of it and told me it was 75 cents and I could pay the man up front, that sort of did it for us. 
This is the deep south. We do NOT pay for hot sauce at a restaurant. That would be like charging for mustard or mayonnaise on a sandwich. Ketchup to go with your fries. It is not done. 

But today we did eat there and August and Levon were handed off to us. I was driving my car because Mr. Moon had gone in early in his truck to get bags of leaves for mulch and to go to a Maggie softball game. 
I did not go to the game and guess what? 
I don't even feel guilty. 
This is a newish development and I like it. Less guilt is always a good thing. 
Unless you're a murderer or something. 

The boys and I stopped on the way home at the GDDG to get the ice cream and root beer for their special dessert tonight and they didn't even beg me for anything. I was impressed. 

This afternoon's main activity has been bamboo-related. First Levon did my rounds with me and he kicked over most of the sprouts we found. And when I say "kick" I mean that kid kicks that bamboo like he's going for a field goal. I kick with the side of my foot but he doesn't mess with that. Sometimes, as he is demonstrating above, he likes to pull the whole thing as hard as he can. 

August came out to join us and I showed them the monster sprout I had somehow missed the last few days. It was growing directly in front of the front porch. 

I swear the thing is seven feet tall. And right beside it, another one was trying to copy its elder. 

I managed to get the small one kicked and the giant one on its side but when Levon saw it, he had to have it to make a sword and so he proceeded to pull on it and this is what the roots look like. 

Of course the bamboo is split there and that is actually a root ball but you get the idea. How can I have been kicking bamboo for 22 years and never seen the roots? I showed it to Glen and he says he's never seen them either. 

After we'd taken care of all the sprouts we found today, there were swords made but that must have become boring because next thing I knew, this was happening. 

They figured out how to clean out the insides where the joints were and had what looked and sounded like a merry time of it trying out the flute-like instruments they'd made and then August decided to make his not only a flute but also a bubble blowing contraption. 

After that they let me read them two books, one a Babar book, the other The Trouble With Mom. 
While I was reading the boys used their new instruments for sound effects (triumphal entrance music, for example) and August discovered that the flute could also be a percussion instrument. 
It was a lively time. 

And then I let them go do what they wanted to do which was to watch TV and I got the chicken and dumplings going. It seems to me that all I've been doing for the last few days is chop onions, carrots, and celery. I know this isn't true but today was the third time this week. So all of that, along with the chicken and mushrooms are simmering and all I have to do is make the dumplings and add them to the pot. As usual there will be cut up cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and sliced avocados. Let's keep this simple. 

All right. Here we go.

It would appear that the Rolling Stones are about to release a new album and a single from it dropped today. The Stones name was not used. The fake name is, as you can see- The Cockroaches. 
This is a take on the old Robin Williams joke that the only things that will survive a nuclear war are Keith Richards and cockroaches. 
In other words, the Old Boys are still here. 

I've listened to the single. Not sure what I think but it is definitely a Rolling Stones song. Bless them, bless them, bless their Old Boy Rock And Roll hearts. 

Love...Ms. Moon

One More Grandparents' Day In The Books

This is Mr. Moon's chair which lives in the room we lovingly call The Glen Den for obvious reasons. If I took pictures of the walls you would have even more of an insight on why it's called that as there are numerous examples of the taxidermy of deer, ducks, and fish. I would take photos but I'm afraid many of you just couldn't handle the reality.
There are also shelves full of his memorabilia which includes everything from beer steins he got in Europe when he was playing ball there, to antique irons, to old timey tools, to pictures, to a signed football (I have no idea the story behind that), to antique fishing lures, to a pillow that his mom needlepointed for him with the Auburn insignia on it. 
The TV is in that room. And I still have baby and child toys in a corner in baskets which I truly need to get rid of and somehow, just keep forgetting...
I have appropriated one end of the couch (also leather) and an end table and a nice lamp I got at Wag the Dog where I can do needlework of various sorts when I watch TV because I simply cannot just sit and watch TV. I have also claimed a few shelves on which I keep yarn and garments to be mended and so forth and I will admit I've got a lot of that sort of stuff in baskets and bags on the floor and on the end table. I rarely sit there and watch TV but it's all there for when I do. 
Anyway, back to The Chair.
When Mr. Moon is not working on something he is generally in that chair. Now he is working on something or other most of the time but he does spend time there with Maurice in his lap. They quite often have a little nap together. He does his computer research there and he sometimes does his paperwork there. As you can tell, that chair has been used. A lot. One of the sweetest things he ever did was to let me have it when I was recovering from broken ribs and could not get comfortable either lying down or sitting up. The recliner was perfect. I spent my days and my nights in it for a few weeks. 
But the thing has HIS body's impression on it. It has cradled him for many years. We can't even remember how long we've had it. As he said just a few minutes ago to me, it is his nest. I believe it was even once sent in to La-Z-Boy for a repair and then returned for many more years of service. 
But this morning, when he moved from our bed to the recliner to drink his coffee and peruse the news, a spring or something broke in the back of the recliner and well, folks, it is done. He can still sit in it with the back propped against the wall but that is not comfortable. 
So one of our missions today was to go recliner shopping. 
More on that in a minute. I know, I know. The anticipation is overwhelming but calm down and just hang on. 
Before we did that, we went to the Grandparents' Day lunch with Ms. Magnolia June. I made our lunches following Maggie's instructions as closely as I possibly could and off we went. Approximately 58,000 grandparents show up for this event which is pretty cool, really. It's only a thirty minute meal because they have all the grades to go through. 
Come to think of it, the brevity of the situation may be part of the attraction. 
You can preorder a Chic-fil-A lunch for you and your grandchild and pick it up at the school but I refuse to give one cent of my money to that bigoted, pseudo-Christian company. Which is why I make our lunch. And Maggie never complains. I think she likes the fact that I make her whatever she wants. 
So off we went and we found our girl in the massive crowd of Grade Fours and sat down and I unwrapped and presented the sandwiches, the Cheetos, the cut up cucumbers and peppers with ranch on the side
as per instructions, the juice, and the cookies. 
The cookies were the only slight problem as she had thought I would make them myself which I did not do but I bought the fanciest looking ones at Publix I could find with frosting stuff in between two cookies which were heavily sprinkled with sprinkles. 
She survived. 
Maggie's other grandmother came too, which was sweet. She did get a Chic-fil-A lunch and I will admit it looked pretty good. 
Not gonna lie. 
The sweetest thing was that Maggie kept saying, "I am so happy you wanted to come," and that made it all worthwhile. Her best friend at school, a girl named Mary, kept coming over and hugging her and that was pretty sweet too. 
Before we knew it, it was being announced that Maggie's class needed to clean up and prepare to go back to the classroom but we had to get a picture in front of the backdrop they'd set up for the purpose.

Shall we start taking bets on how long it will be before my granddaughter is taller than I am? 

After we walked her back to her classroom, we drove over to Hank and Rachel's house where I delivered the chicken soup. I hope they like it. I think it's pretty tasty. I got a chance while there to chat with them for a few minutes and it seems to me that Rachel, while not fully recovered yet of course, seems lighter and more relaxed than I've seen her in a long time. This healing is a process and I believe she is doing well with it although of course, it's always one step forward, two steps back. 

And then- off to look at recliners! 
Now here's the problem. 
Mr. Moon, being as tall as he is, cannot just go find the most comfortable recliner on the floor of the furniture store. He has to find one that extends far enough in the leg area to accommodate his height and the length of his legs. 
This is not easy. 
The one he has now has an extender at the foot of it which can be moved outward to offer support to long legs like his. 
Guess what? They don't make any models with that feature anymore. 
Sigh.
So he ended up sitting in many, many recliners to see if any of them would offer what he needed which was basically a foot rest in the reclining position that his feet did not extend past. 
Well. 
That didn't quite happen but he found one that was close and he generally puts a large pillow on the footrest to elevate his feet and that offers the length and support he needs. 
So. A work-around was found. 
And this recliner ROCKS. As in, it's a rocking chair too. Which is rather cool. 

Of course it's going to take at least six weeks to get a new chair. If he does indeed order it. He wanted it in leather of a certain shade of brown whereas the floor model was in a fabric which he found to be too warm (he is very sensitive to heat). I think he wants to check out a few more options. 
The whole process took the rest of the afternoon but I wasn't complaining. After awhile I went outside the store and sat on one of their outdoor chairs on display. That chair rocked and swiveled which I thought was quite keen. And this is what the sky was looking like from my perch.

I had had quite enough of the fluorescent lights in the store and my presence was not really required.
The sky was like that all afternoon and it would be a sin not to spend as much time contemplating and admiring it as I possibly could. 

And now we're home. Glen went to check on Tom, our friend who lives nearby and has many physical ailments. Glen spent months last year moving him out of a trailer that a tree had fallen on into a new tiny home on his property which took a great deal of time to get moved onto the property and set up to live in. He took him some of the vegetable beef soup I'd made which, to tell you the truth, will probably be the best thing Tom eats this spring. 
I asked Glen, when he got home, how Tom looked.
"Like he's going to live another twenty years," he said. 
"Good!" I said. "He can take care of us when we need help."
This is a man who's had at least one stroke and cancer and, oh, I can't even keep track of it all. He is alive simply through mulish stubbornness. He is a force of nature. 

In a different sort of news, Hank has taken Gibson to a show tonight. No, not a movie show. A show with a ska band that Hank likes. Here's a picture Hank sent to all of us.

Dang but Gibson's getting handsome. 
Hank is a terrific uncle and Gibson is a terrific kid. 

Once again- how lucky am I?

Tomorrow we get August and Levon. I truly hope to have some good conversations with those guys. 
Chicken and dumplings will be involved.

And it's Friday. Martini time has begun and clean sheets are on the bed. All is as it should be. 
Or mostly. 

Love...Ms. Moon