Aftermath

Well, the shingles shot has kicked my ass but not so hard that I I feel like dying or anything. I was actually feeling pretty okay this morning until I made the mistake of taking the compost to the compost pile which in itself wasn't a mistake but then, speaking of stakes, I decided to tie up the tomatoes that were sending their shoots out like they finally figured out how to grow and so I did that and I looked for cucumbers and I picked a few tomatoes and cherry tomatoes but I absolutely did not pick one bean although I can't help seeing ripe ones even if I'm not picking them, and it takes a lot of strength to avert my eyes and walk away because once you start picking it doesn't end until you've got another jumbo ziplock full of them in the refrigerator. 

Phew. 

Butterflies are dive bombing the zinnias and the phlox right now. Here's a giant swallowtail (I think) with a tattered wing. Poor baby. Didn't seem to affect its dipping and diving though. 

Mr. Moon just got home and he is exhausted. His much younger helpers are probably wondering how in hell this old man can work so hard in this heat. I remember when Glen's daddy built himself and Glen's mama a house one summer on a lot not far from here, and the guys working with him could NOT believe how hard he pushed himself. And them. Glen's always bragged about that and now I guess he's proving he can do it too although he's older than his father was then which is so very hard to believe. 

He was staying with us during construction of that house when we lived in a different house in Tallahassee and I'll never forget him coming in from a day of working, and sitting, just sitting, on the end of his bed in the guest room which was right off the kitchen. I'd make him a pot of coffee because he and Glen's mama drank coffee day and night. I'd pour him a cup and he'd sit there in silence, holding that coffee cup and waiting for Glen to get out of the shower. I think it took all his strength to get up and walk to the bathroom but he did it. 
That's where my husband comes from. 

Meanwhile, I took an hour and a half nap today which is so unusual for me that when I got up, Maurice meowed and meowed at me and I'm sure she was quite disturbed that I had slept in the daytime because I never do. She came up and laid her body along my arm and licked me like I was her kitten who'd gotten lost in the woods. 

God. I guess I better cook something for supper although I sure don't feel like it. I made a very nice meal for myself last night. The salmon patties were delicious.

I didn't bread them or anything, just cooked them in a little avocado oil in the big skillet. Pretty perfect. 

We could have leftovers except for the fact that I ate all three salmon patties. Two for meals and one for a snack. 

We grew the green beans, the potatoes, the tomatoes, and the squash that I did indeed grate into the salmon mixture. I've done a very similar patty with tuna before. I need to remember this. 

I have decided that the itchy rash I have on my face is not poison ivy at all. There are no blisters, it's a flat, dark pink rash and I kept thinking that it reminded me of something and suddenly it came to me- when I was in my early teens, I peeled and ate some mangos which were ubiquitous in Winter Haven, where I lived, and I broke out in an unholy rash on my face. I've never had that reaction since but every time I eat a mango, I think about it and wonder why it was just that one time. I remember distinctly that it was a very stressful time in my life and perhaps that had something to do with it. 
Turns out that mango peel has the same irritant that poison ivy, poison oak, and poison sumac have. And over the last four or five days, I have peeled and diced three mangos and eaten them. So there you go. 
And here I am. 

Hawk is back again. I have decided that he or she is my protector predator. Have I already said this? Probably. I love the way the bird stands guard every night, watching my back yard and also me, on the porch, with its hawk eyes, ready to use its hawk talons if need be. 
I am safe from mice, moles, and rabbits. Also birds, I guess. 

We all need whatever protection we can get, don't we?

I am not going to talk about how the certifiably insane DT's humiliation over the military parade he threw is going to goad him into doing something insane to prove what a bad bitch he really is. 
I just can't. 

I wish I could send Hawk to DC. 
And that's all I need to say.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not For Arachnophobes

The golden orb weavers are beginning to stake out their web sites (haha) on the front porch which seems to be their favorite place to settle down. I am very good at not noticing these things until I bounce off one of the webs. Seriously. If you're moving at a normal rate of speed and unknowingly walk in to one of them, you are not just going to walk right through it. You'll hit it and back off. Those webs are strong. 
The spider ladies are still small yet but in a month they will be fully grown and very large. That does make it easier to detect where the webs are but still- I can't begin to tell you how many times I have tried to walk through one by accident when stepping off the top step to the porch. They love to build their webs between the porch posts. Those I have to tear down because although I like to give them free access to most spaces outside, I really do like having free access to the porch.
Live and learn, Ms. Weavers! Sharing is caring.

So I got my second shingles shot today. I figured that there's really nothing I have to do tomorrow which was an important part of my scheduling because I know I'm going to feel like shit. That's just what happens when I get immunizations. I talked to the woman who gave me the shot today at the Publix pharmacy about reactions to this second shingles vaccine and she said it can be miserable. I have heard that from quite a few people. And on top of that, the damn shot hurts. Generally that part of the whole procedure doesn't bother me but in this case, it burns. I mean, it's tolerable, but not pleasant in the least. The pharmacist said it's true and she always feels bad when she has to give these shots but she knows it's better than getting shingles. 
Amen. 
She put the band-aid on my arm and I said, "Thanks, Hon!" and went off and did my shopping. I am really struggling with what to put on the table. Although I am still liking salads, I am not craving them twice a day anymore. They are still going to be a regular around here though, both as sides and main dishes. Just maybe not quite as often. You're supposed to eat a lot of protein when you're taking these GLP-1's and I am trying to be very conscious of that. As I said earlier, meat doesn't seem to have the appeal for me that it did and I am eating a lot of beans and tofu and seafood and cottage cheese. I'm not going to lose my mind counting grams of protein because that's just way too much like all the diets I was ever on- weighing and measuring all the foods to figure out calories or points, if on Weight Watchers. Like I've said, it was the idea of ever having to measure out a tablespoon of peanut butter again in my life that made me finally just give up. The joy of Zepbound is, I can eat what's probably a tablespoon of peanut butter, be fine with that, and screw the lid back on the jar. I do not want to start drinking protein drinks or eating protein bars. That just seems so processed and weird and kinda fake. I guess peanut butter is too but I'm really not eating much of anyway.

At the store today I bought more cottage cheese and I got some quinoa which I haven't eaten in a long time, and I got chicken, canned salmon, shrimp and tofu, of course. I feel certain I am not going to die for lack of nutrition. That is one thing that my years of dieting has given me- a good idea of what gives you the most bang for your buck when it comes to getting the most necessary nutrients out of the least amount of food. I also do not fool myself when it comes to what sugar is and where it is found and how the sugar in fruit is seen by the body just about the same way as sugar in a bag. Of course in fruit it's coming with fiber and other things we need and probably in a less concentrated form than most of the sugary things we eat or drink but a mango has a lot of sugar in it. So do carrots, by the way. I just looked it up and a mango has about 46 grams of sugar in it while a 16 oz. coke has 55 grams of sugar so...
I am sure it is far better for us to eat a mango a day than drink a 16 oz. Coke a day but we need to be mindful of the realities of what we're consuming. Not that I ever really ate that much sugar. I wasn't even enjoying fruit. I tell you what though- I sure am using a lot less butter and eating a lot less cheese and it's not bothering me in the least. 
Again- thanks, Zepbound! 

I think I may have poison ivy on my face. Yippie! No, seriously. It is quite likely. It is so itchy and is getting red and bumpy. Another joy of life in Florida. I know poison ivy when I see it but I'm sure I don't always see it. I get it on my hands and then on my sweat rag and then I wipe my face with my sweat rag...
So far it's all on the lower part of my face and I just as soon it stayed that way. I have no desire to have poison ivy around my eyes. 

Here's what Mr. Moon sent me a few minutes ago.

The windowless bathroom, stripped to the studs. Gone is the horrible wallpaper and hideous towel racks. That tub may be out already and the sinks and vanity will be going too. I wrote back, "Fantastic!" and he said, "I promised you it wouldn't look the same. Hopefully it'll look better."
"It already does," I said. 

So things are moving apace. 

I picked beans for another hour after I got home from town. That added up to four and a half pounds. I gave the rest of the beans I had in the refrigerator to Lily today so I am starting out with a clean slate again. I noticed that some of the vines are dying, probably due to those damn Georgia thumpers but let's be real- whatever. 
I have to tell you though that I still find it somewhat thrilling to find those gorgeous beans in their vines, hiding or dangling in plain sight. It's such a...miracle? Except of course not. I mean, that's what beans are supposed to do. Doesn't mean it's not a kind of miracle though. One of those daily, pragmatic miracles that bring me so much joy. 

I guess I better go see what I can rustle up for my supper. I am thinking I might make some salmon patties with an egg and onions and celery and mustard and a few cracker crumbs. I could even grate up some yellow squash into the mix. That does sound good to me. Steam some asparagus, cook a few of the potatoes we've dug, slice a tomato- yes. See? I haven't lost my interest in food. I just want to eat the good things and not too much of it. What did Michael Pollan say? 
Oh yeah. 
Eat food, not too much, mostly plants. 

I've believed this for a very long time but now, it seems to be how I want to eat. 
Which is another sort of miracle. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Summer And Heat And Bitchiness And Okra And A Really Good Book

Mr. Moon sent me that picture a few minutes ago. That's the new roof he and Owen and a worker or so just finished up. I think it looks very good. Now I have no idea whether or not he plans on doing the roofing of the HOUSE with just that same amount of help or not. We are not really discussing all these things too much. It is still a sensitive subject for me. I figure he's going to do what he wants to do and doesn't need my approval so what's the point? I mean, we are still discussing flooring and things like that. I'm supposed to figure out what the replacement bathroom downstairs is going to look like and I really haven't got a clue and I'm not good at envisioning things like that anyway. No matter what we do, it's still not going to have a window and therefore is never really going to please me. 
But I digress.

After he sent the picture he called to tell me that he's bringing Owen home tonight because they're done with the roof and Owen has something planned with a friend so he (Mr. Moon) will be spending the night here. This is a little disconcerting for me in that I'd already set my mind to being alone tonight and eating leftovers and all that sort of stuff and suddenly, it's oh- by the way, I'll be home soon!
Oh well. We're still going to eat leftovers. And he probably won't be bringing laundry because he's bought a new washer and dryer for the cabin and hooked them up and I believe he is rather enjoying being the first to use them. Then again, the novelty may have already worn off. 

I worked pretty hard today. Not for a long period of time but as long as I could tolerate being outside. First I took a walk to see how my knee felt about physical activity and it felt pretty okay. I wanted to haul a downed branch and the bamboo I removed from the porch ceiling so I dumped all the rain water out of the garden cart (many gallons) and pulled it around to the front yard but before I started in on the bamboo and the fallen branch, I started with cleaning out some other bamboo growing up by the fence and trying to choke a camellia bush and then next thing I knew I was pulling and/or cutting nandina which is yet ANOTHER invasive plant, now popping up in places it's never grown before here and y'all- I am so overwhelmed. I just can't keep up with it. I can't. I also cut back similax green brair vines which are wicked, wicked things, and then, because I am ridiculously stupid, I decided that now would be a great time to trim the sagos which I did not do last winter but I only got three of those done because I was dying. 

Here are two of the three I "trimmed" and when I say "trimmed," I mean removed every poisonous sharp-tipped frond from them. If they die, they die, and you can bet they won't. You'll note the proud male sago there, I'm sure. 

I hauled all the stuff to the burn pile and it took two cart loads to do it. The humidity today has been over 80% and that is not a joke. It's sort of like trying to work in the top of a double boiler at full steam. 

And of course the sad part is that no one in this world would even notice what I did today except for maybe the cutting back of the sagos but I doubt even that. Again I say- I cannot do this by myself. 
And yet, the day I try to hire someone to help me is a day I can't even envision. That's just not what I do. This is part of my type of crazy I don't really understand at all but that's the way it is. 
I'll think about it, though. 

Here are a few other pictures I took today, most from my walk. 

The crepe myrtle in a neighbor's yard. 

An old house I've no idea the history of but I'm sure it has many stories to tell. It was vacant for a very long time and then someone moved into it some years ago but recently they appear to have moved. The house is already getting that look of not being lived in. I doubt anyone plans on renovating it and so it may just go the way of all the other abandoned houses around here. Back to the ground. 

Or perhaps someone will take note of it and decide to make it a project and save it. I hope so. 

A new sign at the My Gypsy Soul Boutique. 
Yes. Somehow the place is still open. Various strategies have been put in place to try and save it, I guess. First came the posters in the windows advertising Tarot and palm readings, then the signs saying, "Smoke shop!" and now they're selling the lottery. 

Smoke shops in Florida are places where you can buy cannabis even if you don't have a license for the medical dispensaries where you can buy legal weed if you do have that medical needs card. There is some loophole that these smoke shops are able to slip through and honestly, if anything could save My Gypsy Soul Boutique it might be drugs. I have to say though, that I have not seen any evidence of cars with people clamoring for almost-legal weed or gummies or pipes or bongs or whatever else they have in there. 

Say what you will- one has to admire that woman's persistent determination that she can make that place work. 

I finished listening to Viola Davis's memoir (read by her, of course), "Finding Me." I could write an entire month's worth of blog posts on all the thoughts I have after listening to the book. All I'll say at this point though, is...wow.

I'm sure the book isn't for everybody, but for anyone who has struggled with past trauma, childhood sexual abuse, racial prejudice, domestic abuse in the family home, poverty like you can't believe- there is a lot here to ponder. Also for anyone who wants to have an idea about what it takes for a woman who has none of the perceived requirements to become a very noted and very awarded actor except for sheer talent, determination, endless work on craft, intelligence, and people who believed in her- this is your book. 

Never once does she do the "oh, poor pitiful me" thing which my god, she has every right to do, she just faces what has happened in her life honestly and head-on. She doesn't make light of them either. Unlike many celebrity memoirs I've read she does not self-praise constantly nor does she pretend to be humble when she was not. 
She knows her worth and that, I suppose is the essence of the book. 
Finding me, indeed.

Highly recommend. 

Here's at least one okra that has grown and matured. 

As I keep saying- I have no idea what's killing my okra plants but it's pretty efficient at what it does. 

Your almost daily shot of zinnias.

On we go.

Love...Ms. Moon

Father's Day Is Not My Favorite

A while after Glen sent me the catfish picture, he sent me this one too. The golden hour for sure. 

This one barely looks real. That is some still water. 

He also called me and told me that he had not just caught a catfish, but also a turtle and a small alligator. 
Good Lord! No worries, all of the critters were released unharmed. 

He got home around three this afternoon. I welcomed him home for Father's Day. I usually make him his favorite dessert for Father's Day which involves chocolate and pecans and whipped cream and cream cheese...

Yeah. I just didn't feel like it this year. Thanks, Zepbound! 

I did order him two pairs of shorts from the same great company where I get my overalls but they haven't arrived yet and they're probably going to be too big. I've made him a card but I haven't given it to him yet. I hope he likes it. 

Father's Day is just a real complicated situation for me. I'm sure I discuss this every year. I get a little jealous and a little put-out with all the people on FaceBook who post about how wonderful their fathers were or still are on Father's Day. I suppose I am mostly resentful, having never really had a father, or at least one that counted unless you're talking about the man who deserted us or the man who fucked me up for life. Well, the abandonment fucked me up for life too. 

I mean, in their own ways, they taught me many lessons, none of which have done a damn thing except guarantee that I would spend years in therapy. And, if we're being honest, do as much as I could do on my own to fuck up my life. That's just the way it is. And I didn't. I didn't because of two people- the therapist and my husband. There were others, too, who supported me when I was going through the hardest parts of the therapy when I finally faced everything as head-on as I could and tried to make sense of it all, tried to understand how it had all affected me which in turn, affected everyone I love. 

The sins of the father, and so on. 

A thing I do every Father's Day is to get in touch with Billy to whom I always say, "I wish I had had a father like you." 
And every year it makes me cry to say those words, to think those words. He didn't have a dad either and and he took all that pain and turned it inside out and created a template of how to be the best father. 

People can be amazing. I am so lucky to know a few of those. 

Knowing there are fathers like Billy and Vergil and Jason helps balance things out in my mind. And of course- the most important father in my life, Glen Moon. 
In the card I made for him I said that when I married him I thought I knew why and I also thought I knew how much I loved him. 

I think it's a sheer miracle that I managed to fall in love with a man who was so family-oriented, so responsible, so loving, so gentle, so kind, so damn hard-working, so dedicated to family. 

Also extremely good-looking and bizarrely tall but I did know that when I married him. And let me assure you he does at least a tiny bad-boy streak and if he hadn't I doubt I ever would have fallen in love with him. 

And if I had to choose whether I would have rather had a good father myself or give my kids a good father, there is no doubt which I'd choose. 

So it all works out. Or at least, it has worked out. Forty years down the road with that man and he's still making me laugh and making me cry and making me crazy and I so love watching him as he is the daddy to four grown kids and granddaddy to five grands. 

Speaking of which, Mr. Moon just announced that he and Owen are heading back up to the lake tomorrow for another three day work event. He was SURE he'd told me this. 
I am sure he did not. 
In his absolute focus on things, he sometimes forgets that he hasn't informed me of his plans. I am used to it. 

I did a little stitching on hems for these whatever-we-want-to-call-them that I've made out of cheesecloth. I could do the whole lot of them on the machine in a very short time but for whatever reason, I want to do them by hand. I'm just doing an easy, fast running stitch and for whatever reason, it's bringing me pleasure. 

I watched TV as I sewed for awhile and I swear to god- the algorithms for me are so sad and predictable. Every single "suggestion for you" is about old people finding love in a retirement community or old people finding love with the next door neighbor after a spouse has died. Or old women going on adventures together and learning how they can do new things. Or old women going on adventures together and finding love or at least a reasonable facsimile for a night. That last one often involves old women discovering the joys of cannabis which is never not funny. Am I right?

And now I need to go fix us some supper. I am feeling a bit agitato right this second as that needs to happen along with getting things organized for Glen to take to feed himself and Owen, and unload the dishwasher. The man actually asked me how to cut up a mango and how to cook spaghetti noodles. 

Sigh. 

Well, I'd have to ask him how to clear a clogged drain or do any of a huge number of things. 
We better both die at the same time or one of us is going to be in deep trouble. 

They could make a movie out of it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Good, The Bad, And The Amazing Americans Who Showed Up

I actually took that picture yesterday. That is the sea grape that I grew from a sea grape seed that I picked up near Sebastian. It has been a slow grower but it is still alive and seems relatively healthy although there is some bug damage on the a few of the leaves. It's about three feet tall now. 
Last summer when we were in Roseland, Glenn Our Darling Landlord told me to go ahead and dig up any of the baby sea grapes growing in the backyard where we were staying and I did dig up a few. I planted them in pots when we got home and they are looking very good. 

They are even sending forth new babies. Perhaps one day I will have a lovely sea grape garden. 
Well, that's a fond dream which is not going to come true unless I move farther south because I don't think sea grapes especially enjoy freezing temperatures. 

I slept very late this morning. I think that last Zepbound dose sort of did me in or perhaps that has nothing to do with my low energy right now. It could be my body working on repairing whatever's happening in my knee which was quite bothersome this morning. In fact, I decided that today would be a good day to just stay off it as much as possible and I suppose I have but of course I really haven't and I am reassured because if it was really torturing me, I would be more apt to rest it. As the day has progressed, it has felt better and better and that too, seems a good sign. If it were seriously injured, I don't think that would be the case. 

I have been following different news reports of the No Kings protests across the country and it certainly looks like a hell of a lot of people have shown up to stand up for democracy. Tallahassee had quite a few protestors at the old capitol building which stands right in front of the new capitol building which is one of the most phallic buildings in the world as far as I can tell. The old one is a graceful thing, though. 

It would appear that millions of Americans came out today to voice their opinions about what's going on in Washington and I'm not talking here specifically about the parade taking place there to honor Dear Leader with jets and tanks and the bullshit reason for the parade which, as we all know is a lie. Trump couldn't care less about when the US Army was formed but he does care a great deal about his own birthday and the fact that this is the sort of tribute that rulers in dictatorships can expect and do indeed get. 
How very, very sad and weak do these men have to be to put on such penile pageantries displaying all of the perceived strength that they themselves do not have? 

Well. Hopefully the tide is turning against this administration and people's eyes are opening but even as I say that, tragedies are occurring and I can't even believe what happened in Minnesota. If nothing else, I believe that Republicans are getting a clue about American's mindset when it comes to Trump's dream of his very own authoritarian government and that their chances of being elected or reelected to office are sliding at the same exact rate as Trump's place in the polls. 

To all of you who put on your shoes and made your signs and showed up today, I thank you. YOU are what America is. Not tanks in streets or jets flying fancy formations in the sky over Trump's reviewing stand or ICE agents who are as determined as KKK members not to show their faces because they know what they are doing is the wrong thing, or anyone, anyone at all wearing a MAGA hat, or driving a truck with a confederate flag flying from it or taking a US senator to his knees and handcuffing him because he wanted to ask a question at a PRESS conference, or arresting a mother and father for the sin of being brown and taking them into custody while their child weeps because he has no relatives in this country and no idea where his parents are. 

Mr. Moon has already started his Father's Day by catching a large catfish off his very own dock. 

He reports seeing two new alligators and I can't wait until those fuckers decide to bask in the sunlight in the backyard of the house that came with the dock. 

Forgive me for once again being all over the place. I'm going to go cook an eggplant that I picked today. 

Yes. More beans. All this rain is swelling them up like Trump's ego is swelling right now as missiles pass the reviewing stand in all of their long, hard glory. 

That's all I have to say.

Love...Ms. Moon

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Not quite fully-opened okra flower. As you can see, it is part of the mallow family, like hibiscus and rose of sharon. Also, cacao and cotton and I did not know that. 

Today has been tough. Part of it was lovely and I did enjoy that but the rest of it has been rather dark for me. I woke up from more stupid, stupid dreams with all of the themes in them. Themes of taking care of children, of taking care of grown-ups, of being surrounded by filthy laundry and many washing machines, none of them any good at all. Kitchens that are also filthy with many ovens that are horrendous, most of them non-functioning, and never, ever enough food to feed all the people I need to feed. Trying to find something to wear and not being able to. This morning's dreams took me all the way back to the closet in my brother's and my room in Roseland. 
And then there is the other recurring theme of my husband not loving me, of having another true love for whom he is leaving me. The hussy who loves to hunt and fish.
I wake up exhausted and fighting to find reality in the daylight. 

But. I got up and got on with it. I knew we were meeting Hank and Rachel and a few others at 11:30 for lunch and so I needed to get the sheets in the washing machine and and do all the other self-determined necessary things for a Friday. This includes weighing and injecting myself with another dose of Zepbound. 
The scale showed no progress and like I talked about in my post concerning weighing and scales, I was ready to start stripping off clothes and wondering how much extra weight my swollen knee was responsible for and all that bullshit. Even knowing what I know from personal experience and from Weight Watcher member experience about how weight loss goes, I fall right back into the thinking that no weight loss means that whatever I'm doing isn't working, no matter what the other evidence shows. 
And the last week on the low dose of Zepbound, the starting dose, has been hard. The magical silencing of the voices in my head reminding me that I should eat, that I'm hungry, that just a little bite of this or a little bite of that certainly can't hurt anything, and blah, blah, blah, had mostly disappeared. I wanted that silence back. And I have become afraid that I won't ever get it back which is another example of faulty thinking. 
Today I started on the second level of dosage and I am waiting to see if that kicks into gear. So far, it has not. I cannot stress enough that I still have not been eating nearly as much as I was before I started taking the drug, and the choices I've made have been far healthier. I do not eat between meals except for my afternoon snack of cottage cheese (protein!) and fruit. And that has been very satisfactory. But still, it's not been the same as when I first started and it was as if I had been given the keys to a magical kingdom where food was not my boss, my tyrant, one of the main focuses of my life. 
I know that I will feel that again as so many others report that they have. Many people don't experience that at all the first month. I was a rapid reactor. So I'm just being paranoid and pessimistic and worried, once again, that somehow I don't deserve to have the keys to that magical kingdom. 

But on I go and I wore a dress today that I simply could not fit into last summer and that is after one month. I've had to move a ring that was getting too large for the finger I wore it on. I see many small changes already, ones that are not based on the scale but on the reality of the size of my body. I am certain no one looking at me could tell any change at all but I can. 

Still, all of that negativity had hold of me when I drove into town to the restaurant that used to be El Patron where our family has spent so many birthdays and just plain get-togethers. There's a porch where the children could run around without disturbing anyone and the food was always good and reasonable and they knew us. Not unlike Japanica, El Patron closed for a good long while and we feared it was gone forever. But no, ownership just changed hands but still within the same family. It is now San Marcos Mexican Grill. The restaurant has been spiffed up but still has some of its funky charms. There are new chairs which impressed us all. Very comfortable. The porch has been remodeled and is now more inviting. They're going to start having live music there a few nights a week. 
So it was fun to see all of this but mostly it was good to see not only Hank and Rachel, but also our beloved Melissa, she of the hair salon where all of us go, and beloved Lindsey who gives quite possibly the best hugs in the world and makes tiny origami birds that she leaves for the server.

Glen was there too and that was sweet. I love how easy things are between us and the kids. I'm sure there are things we don't talk about but those subjects are few and far between. 

I stopped at a Goodwill on my way home but wasn't there long. My knee has been hurting all day when I walk and I'm sorry but Goodwill just isn't worth the pain. 

Since I've been home I've done little. Made up the bed, swept the kitchen, fretted over stupid, little, selfish things, despaired over huge frightening things, and tried to fix a buckle on a pair of overalls which felt to me like I was attempting a magic trick with no instruction book. I've never been good at things like that and now, I am even worse. Mr. Moon has fixed them for me. Bless him. 

Forgive me for talking so much about such frivolous stuff that really doesn't offer anything to anyone. I simply cannot talk about the big stuff right now. You know- how the world as we know it has been erased by wars and tyrants. 

Let's see how this martini works. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Oh, to be as wise as Frida. 

All Of This Is True

My hope, when I planted those zinnias, was to have an almost solid glory of chaotic color. And I think we may get close. Even if that doesn't happen, any showing of zinnias is a happy thing for me. 

We need happy right now. We need sweetness. We need beauty. We need respite from our fears and our worries, our outrage and our horror. I woke up this morning from a dream where I had observed, from a window, ICE rounding up workers at a restaurant. I think. I was at once horrified and not surprised. And you know what I did in my dream? I watched for a little while and then...I shut my door and got on with my dream life.
This speaks volumes, I think. 
We all would love to believe that if we were that close to such an event we would step forward, to be witness to, if nothing else. And I thought about that in my dream but I made a conscious decision not to even though I knew that was wrong. 
And I am not pleased with myself at all. When I told Glen about my dream, I cried. I've always known I was something of a coward and my closing of the dream door seems my way of recognizing that cowardice. Or at least show me that it's there. 
I am quite aware that it was people like me who allowed Hitler to do what he did. People who weren't evil or even really bad. People who were probably good, with good hearts, with strong beliefs that what was going on was so very wrong but who were so afraid of what would happen if they stepped forward, that they did not step forward. 
They shut their eyes, their ears, their windows, their doors. 

They said What can I do? I am only one person. 

This isn't what I meant to write about this evening. As if I ever have a plan to begin with. Still. 
It is the truth. 

Meanwhile today I did regular things. My left knee which chronically bothers me and threatens to do more than that, did do more than that this morning. It "went out" on me. Do you know what I mean? It's like all of a sudden the tendons and ligaments forget how to do what they're supposed to do which is to hold it all in place. And it hurts when that happens and it's surprising like, Why are you doing this to me, knee?
And it was swollen and I HAD SHIT TO DO and I was almost sure I had a knee brace because this has happened many times in the past and I dug through the places I thought it might be and could not find it which also made me cry. My mission today was beans!
So on the wild hope that the GDDG might carry some sort of knee braces because they can surprise you like that, I drove down there and by golly, they did. I also found a box of pint Ball jars with lids which Publix doesn't even have because I suppose everyone and their great aunt's husband's sister's garden is coming in now. I was so thrilled. 

I put the brace on as soon as I got home and it did the job. I picked more beans and then I began the process of preparing the two giant bags of beans in the refrigerator for canning. I decided to use quart jars for those because you can get a lot more in the canner at one go that way. I was going to do seven quarts, which is the canner's capacity but after snapping beans for two hours and packing jars, I decided that six quarts would do it. That was all of the refrigerator beans and a few of the ones I picked today. 

Yes! More beans in jars! 

As I just wrote a friend, "When the apocalypse happens, people are going to be begging for my green beans." 
Shoulda thought of that earlier, suckers. 
You know I am so joking because honestly, there is no rhyme or reason to be putting up this many jars of beans. Trust me- they aren't cheaper than store bought. 
But they are better.

Have you seen THIS? 

In short, Texas lawmakers are pushing a bill to test waste water for hormones, specifically the ones found in birth control pills, abortion medication, and hormones which could be used in gender affirming treatment. 
Because they're absolutely terrified these hormonal horrors are going to get in the ground water and pollute it and people will be affected and oh, oh, oh! It's so scary! 
As if trace amounts of hormones pose any risk to the ground water compared to heavy metals, agricultural pest and weed control, and about a million other things that they don't seem to give a shit about. 
They just want one more way to intrude into the privacy of Americans in a way that pleases their need for control. 

Sickening. 

I don't even know what else to say. I'm glad I was able to can beans today. I am glad that we are able to grow things that we can and do preserve. I am glad I could be outside for awhile, even though it was horribly hot because there is no place I'd rather be when I can be. Despite the heat I love the lizards and butterflies and even the wasps and giant grasshoppers and oh yes, the anoles. To observe them as they live their own lives. To watch the garden as the vegetables grow and ripen, to hear the birds as they call and talk about their day. 

It is such a privilege and a joy. 

**************

Can I say that the death of Brian Wilson was a sort of shock? Not specifically because he died but because it felt like the end of something. Not an era- that era ended long ago. But of the burning light of a genius who managed to bring so much damn happiness and pleasure to so many people despite the fact that he came from a history of so much abuse and pain. I remember listening to the Beach Boys when I was in the fifth grade. Their harmonies soared and so did my spirit when I heard them. I would not be who I am if they had not been who they were. I have never not loved them. And they were there because of Brian Wilson. Please let there be peace for him now. I feel sure there is. 

Enough. 

Love...Ms. Moon