In Which I Am Told That I Look A Lot Older And By Golly, I Am

Let us start with a little housekeeping here. 

Remember me talking about the Oprah mug that came with the house that I had thought I still had but could not find? Well, yesterday at lunch, Rachel, who had read that post told me that she was pretty sure that mug was on the little dorm-size refrigerator in the kitchen where I keep grains and beans and things, holding pens and a ruler. 
Yep. She was entirely correct. That mug has probably been sitting there for years and I no doubt see it (or don't see it) at least three or four times a day. 
There are none so blind as those who will not see. 
Good Lord.
Again I say, Thanks, Rachel! That mystery is solved. 

On to a quick garden update. 

Red zinnia bloom. There's some wild stuff going on in there. 

Tiny baby cucumber. It does vaguely resemble some sort of cactus though, doesn't it? 

Here they are! The first rattlesnake beans. 
Hello, beauties!

Woke up this morning and it was raining. I believe it had been raining all night long. I know that when Maurice came and got in bed with us in the wee hours, her fur was damp. It was gloomy and chilly and although I was so happy to know we were finally really getting rain, I felt a little gloomy myself. We were going to an outdoor memorial service for a man I've known since I was a teenager and whom Glen has known for many years because he has hunted on his property and became friends with him and that's another part of the story. Y'all, there are so many parts to this story. I'm going to try and tell it like I was paying for every word. 

I apologize for the glare. I was not paying attention. This was from a display set up with many pictures of the deceased and his many, many family members and it was in a carport to shield it from the damp and there were a lot of people around me. 
As you can assume, the man there is the man whose life we were celebrating. His name was Linden. His wife, Jane, is the woman by his side. They are both beautiful people, don't you think?

I met Linden back when I was in high school because he was my optometrist. And Jane worked as his receptionist. At that time, they were both married to other people. I do believe I knew her already though, because one of her sons, David, was a friend of mine at the time. 
Now, Jane and her then-husband Bert had two sons and their names were David and John. 
Linden and his then-wife, Virgina, had two sons. Their names were David and John. And all roughly the same age. The sons of Linden's were twins, the other two boys were not, but only a year or two apart in age. 

Let's back up to our trip to Tennessee last month when Glen and I went to the magical wedding of our friends David and Karen. 
That David is the son of Linden. Obviously, I have been friends with David and Karen for many years. Knew them in high school. Karen's brother Larry, worked with Linden for many years and he and Glen hunted together on Linden's property. Linden owned many, many acres of land near here. Not as many as Ted Turner, whose spread is quite nearby but a very respectable number of acres. Many of those acres have been left alone to grow the trees and plants they grow. There were some cows raised. Also perhaps a few things like maybe hay? I don't know for sure. 
Many tractors were involved. Are involved.

Back to high school. 
My first very, very serious boyfriend was John, son of Jane. At that time, I got to know Jane quite well. Also Bert, Jane's then-husband. Bert taught music at the Winter Have Community College. Jane, as I said, worked with Linden. Bert taught me how to waltz. 
Linden's then wife was a musician. Besides her two twin sons, she had two daughters. All of them learned to play instruments. She had her own string quartet. David, son of Linden, actually became a quite well-known violinist. John, son of Linden, became an eye doctor like his dad. 

John, son of Jane, and I dated seriously for maybe a year? I'm not sure. That whole time is a bit hazy. I loved him with all my heart. Or at least I was sure I did at the age of seventeen, as one does. When he broke up with me, he broke my heart. That was right before I moved to Denver to attend college and probably had a lot to do with the major depression I suffered there for a year and a half. 
I was still very good friends with John's brother, David, son of Jane. He was my first really good gay friend and we were pretty darn close. Our friendship survived the breakup. And Jane came and saw me in Denver when she was there visiting a sister. 

At this time I was not at all close with David, son of Linden. I knew him, I knew of him, but he was not part of my pack, my tribe, my heart family. 

I am not going to be specific here but I will say that Jane and Linden had, shall we say, sweet feelings about each other. This was fairly well known. And eventually, they both divorced their spouses and married each other.

Moving on. I re-met David, son of Linden, in Winter Haven while I was there for a Christmas vacation. I've told this story before- he and I became close. He and Karen, who had been together since Jr. High, had parted ways and oddly enough, Karen had moved to Denver. While all of this was happening, I was telling David how much I hated Denver and he told me that I could come and live in Tallahassee with him. 
I doubt that he had any idea that I would actually do that. 
But I did. 

That did not work out. 
Major heartbreak #2 but eventually, I did come out of my depression and I had made many friends here and some of them helped scrape me up off the pavement and life went on. I got a job, I got an apartment. 
And then I went back to Winter Haven for some reason, another holiday I guess, where I then met another guy I had known but mostly by name and reputation. He and David, son of Linden, had been friends since toddlerhood. So I just sort of slid over to the next link. Or something. 
I was desperate for love in those days. I won't even get into that but I needed to be loved and although my definition of that was pretty loose, I understand why and how that happened. I needed to feel safe too, and for me, having a man insured that. 

And that guy became my husband and we had two children together. David and Karen got back together because they were fated to be together and Jerry and I were great friends with them. They lived with us for awhile. And of course, to this day, both of us are still very close to them and Glen and David have formed their own relationship, with Glen being introduced to Linden, who then allowed him to hunt on his acres. At one point, David (son of Linden) and Glen were seriously considering going into the hemp growing business on that property but Linden was not into that idea. But I think Linden and Jane, too, developed an affection for Glen because who wouldn't? And he took them eggs when we had chickens and green beans and I went to see them with him once in awhile. 

And so that is how we know Linden and Jane. 

And today was the celebration of Linden's life. He was days away from being 98 when he died so he lived a good long life and had a good long love and his children and his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren adored him and they all got together on the farm, as it was called, for Thanksgiving, even Virginia, former wife of Linden. 
Lots of love. Know what I'm saying? He was a character, a very well-respected doctor and member of his community, and a true down-to-earth farmer at heart. 
And Jane? Well, she was the first person I ever knew to read Prevention Magazine and I guess she must have gleaned a few things because she is still alive and certainly kept Linden alive and well until he was almost a hundred years old. 

When I saw her today, she looked good. She was sitting in a wheelchair, but her back was as straight as it ever was, and I approached her to express my sympathy and so forth. She and I had our own little relationship, going back all those years to when I had loved her son. 
When I approached her, I leaned over and said, "Hey Jane, do you remember me?" I could tell she did not so I hurriedly said, "I used to be Mary Miller but now I'm married to Glen Moon." 
She immediately knew who I was and you know what she said to me?
"You look a lot older."
Oh my fucking god. I really did not quite know what to say but what I did say was, "Well, I AM older," and she said, "Yes, but older than that." 
Okay. 
"I'm seventy-one now," I said. And she said, "And I'm older than that." 
The funny thing is, when I was talking to her, I felt like the seventeen year old I had been when we really knew each other and when I said, "I'm seventy-one now," that felt impossible to me. I usually have no problem realizing my true age but in that moment, I felt like how can this be?
Time travel is real. 

The little service was sweet. John, son of Linden, who now has a house right up the road from where his dad lived and who has taken over a lot of the farm responsibilities, spoke first and then several other men, mostly men who had worked with him, spoke about what a good man Linden was and what a character he'd been. 

Here's my little story which pertains to that:
During that winter holiday when David (son of Linden) and I were enjoying each other's company, I ate dinner with his family one evening. Virginia was talking about something to do with the arts. Linden was silent for a long time but then he said, "Art, fart." 
Oh my. I have to tell you. I was a bit shocked. 
And yet, it was hysterical. 
And I have never forgotten it. 

Of course the best part of today was seeing Karen and David again. I told David how I can't get over feeling like he created magic when he threw that surprise wedding. I told him that I'd put on the little jacket I wore at the wedding a few days ago and found a Kleenex in each pocket and I thought to myself, "These Kleenex are holding my wedding tears," and it is true.
I told Karen the same story and she was moved. The wedding turned out to be magic for her, as well. 
I surely do love those people and I always will. I could hug Karen for an eon. I could listen to David laugh forever.
I am so grateful that Glen has his own relationship with these two people, who loves them in his own way. 

And I am grateful that Linden and Jane and Virginia and Bert all got together in their own ways. Without those getting togethers, my life would be nothing like it is now. I would not have learned the lessons I have learned, I would not have ever moved to Tallahassee, I would not have had my first two children, I would not have known this sort of long time love for people who have been such intricate parts of my life. 

Look up! said Ross. Whom I would never have met in some convoluted way if I had not known them. 
Can you see the magnolia bloom there at the very top of that very high branch?

Another bloom from below because it was too high for me to reach to pull down to take a picture of from above it. I love the rain drops that collected in the cups of the huge waxy petals. 

I have not packed one dang thing for Roseland. 
Tomorrow is another day. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, First Of May, First Of May...

Outdoor fucking starts today! 

I say that every year. I have to. Some people may need the reminder. Also, it is a sweet, sweet tribute to my dear friend Lynn who introduced me to the saying so many years ago. 

Outdoor fucking would not be very pleasant here in Lloyd right now as it is raining. Not hard but enough to distract all but the most passionately oblivious of lovers and it's getting a little cooler as the rain comes. We're supposed to get a lot more tonight and tomorrow and we are so grateful. 

It has been a good day. It started for Jessie like this.

The boys did this all on their own as Papa was still in Washington, DC on business. Jessie had started to get up but they told her no, no, go back to bed, so she did. 
Here's what they brought her.

Tea, toast, strawberries and a rainbow bouquet. And cards. I know they were so proud and Jessie was so pleased. 

All the colors of the rainbow. August created that one. He does love rainbows. 

The next thing on Jessie's birthday agenda was to get a manicure and a pedicure and Lily and I joined her. Lily got a manicure too but I just got a pedicure. We laughed so much in those fantastic massage chairs, getting our feet made more beautiful. I wish I could remember the thing that made me laugh hardest. 
But I can't. 
Here's what the finished product looked like though. 

We all went for the moving-into-summer colors. That's my foot in the center. You can't really tell but there is a bit of sparkle to that pale green. 
Mermaid toes. Jessie wanted her big toes painted a different color than the rest and Lily has different colors on her fingers.

While I was waiting for the other two to be finished, I went outside and realized there were blooming magnolia trees all up and down the front of the parking lot. If you read the link yesterday about Jessie's birth, you know that magnolias played a role it it. For me, at least. 
And I picked her one. I seriously doubt anyone minded.

Now I realize that is a large flower but I must tell you that it is a smaller variety of magnolia than the Granda Flora. I think it may be a Little Gem. It is possibly half the size of the real mama magnolia and its scent is not nearly as intense, but it is still a beautiful flower and Jessie was pleased with it. 

And then on to lunch we went! We met up with Lauren and Rachel and Mr. Moon and also Vergil who had arrived just in time to come to lunch. 

We ate at the Mexican restaurant where we always seem to eat for family meals out these days because they have a porch where we can be, if not rowdy, than at least ebullient. Which we sometimes are. 

The birthday girl ordered a Big Girl drink. Vergil helped her with it a little. 

He's kind like that. 

After lunch, Rachel wanted to get a picture of me and Lily and Jessie. 

Just thinking about this picture makes me want to cry. How in the world am I the mama of these two goddesses? They wrapped me up with their arms and with their love and how I wish I could have known, back when they were small and things were often hard because I had four children at home and it's not always easy (it is never easy), that one day it would be like this. That I would realize I am the most fortunate mother in the entire world. I so wish Hank and May had been with us too but they were both working. Next birthday is May's so perhaps we will all be together again then. 

Thank you, Rachel. With all of my heart. 

It is still raining. There's a very enthusiastic cardinal making his chip, chip, chip song, and I am enjoying a martini. 
Clean sheets are of course, on the bed. 

This morning I woke up before my husband and when he did wake up, I stayed quiet and still and watched him as he swung his legs out of the bed, sat up, stood up, and I fell in love with him again, this sturdy good man who gave me those two daughters, who has been a good and faithful daddy to all our children including the ones I brought with me to the marriage, the children about whom his daddy told him, "You're going to have to love those children as much as you love their mother," and he did and he has and I could not have done any of this without him. 

Happy birthday, my darling Jessie, my back-pocket baby, my magnolia birth/rainbow baby, my precious friend, the mother of two of my beautiful grandchildren, the boss of me since you were born. 

And happy Friday to you all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And just for fun...

A Birthday Eve

That's the only decent picture I've taken all day long. It's a photo of one of the volunteer squashes which is making a squash. Now we shall see what sort it is. Any guesses? I'm still guessing acorn. If every one of the volunteers puts forth a few squash, we shall have an abundance of them. 

I am tired. I got up BEFORE SEVEN this morning to get to my blood draw appointment. It wasn't that hard, really. I felt fine and even cheerful. Cheerful enough that when I glimpsed something on the floor near my bathroom door when it was still mostly dark but not entirely and I didn't have my glasses on so everything was fuzzy anyway but it occurred to me that whatever the object was, it seemed to be rodent shaped, I didn't freak out. 
I vaguely remembered Maurice coming into our room last night making her "I have brought you food!" call. I was deeply asleep and barely woke up. It did register that she might have had a successful hunt but I was not going to deal with it then. 
And when I came out of the bathroom and it was lighter and I had my glasses on, I saw that indeed, she had brought us a mouse, quite a large mouse, in fact, so neatly killed that I didn't see a mark on it. 
I will admit I didn't look at it too closely. 
I got the broom and the dustpan and took care of the little thing, tossing her out into the bushes on the other side of the yard. Glen would have done it but he was not in the best of moods, having had terrible dreams all night which is most unusual for him. 
I thanked Maurice and then told her, "DON'T DO THAT AGAIN!" 
Right. She never listens to a thing I say. She usually only brings home game when Glen's out of town, feeling certain that I can't feed myself without his help so she steps in. Perhaps last night she sensed that he was not 100% himself and so did us both a favor by bringing us that tasty morsel. 
She's thoughtful like that. 

So I went and got my blood drawn and I cannot tell you how much I hate that. Not the actual puncture and withdrawal of blood from my vein. That doesn't really bother me. 
I'm sure I've mentioned this before but the thing I hate about it is that everyone should be able to keep some secrets. You know? The deepest darkest secrets. Things that are so private that you have no desire to share them with anyone. I think I am especially prone to believe this because of my childhood (surprise! surprise!) when I wasn't allowed to have a lock on my bedroom door because...
Well, my stepfather said so. Which meant that I spent years in subconscious (and sometimes quite conscious) terror that he could and would enter my room at any time, even in the darkest parts of the night. 
Back to blood. 
When my blood is drawn and then analyzed for signs of the myriad of things that could be wrong with me, or that are simply happening in my own personal private body, I get a feeling that I can't even explain. It is somewhat like terror, though. 
It is also like an unwelcome invasion of the very essence of me, my very lifeblood. 
And no, this makes no sense but humans are not always logical creatures. I could go to my "patient portal" and read the results. They have already been posted. 
But will I? 
Oh hell, fucking no. 
If something has shown up that can't wait until my appointment with my doctor nearer the end of May, he can call me. Otherwise, ignorance is bliss. I cannot begin to understand people who jump right on that information. My husband being one of them. He prints them out and keeps them in a folder! 
Who IS this man? 

So that was that. By the time I got home, Glen had already gone to the cabin to meet some guys who were going to help him move things back into the house from the porch where the flooring guys had moved them when they did their disastrous work. 
And I do not think that he's going to be able to live with that floor the way it is so I don't know what he's going to do. He told me the other day that he just wants to go fishing! Which is why he bought the place and now it's turned into this huge project which is taking forever because he's doing so much of the work by himself. 
Well. 
I don't really know what to say. 

I spent the rest of the day here doing one little thing after another from organizing my shirt drawer to weeding outside the fence where the Seminole pumpkins are growing to doing a lot of laundry to making a dessert that Jessie has requested for her birthday. 
Which is tomorrow. 
Pedicures and lunch are going to be involved. 
In 2008 I wrote a post about Jessie's birthday and her birth and I don't think I could do nearly as fine a job now in writing that story as I did then so I give you the link if you want to read about it. 

When I think about the fact that Jessie has birthed two children of her own and that I got to be with her when she did, and that her sisters and brother and daddy and of course her husband were with her too, I can't help but tear up. 

I have no more words tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just More Of The Usual Stuff

And here we have the mean, mean, biting machine, Maurice Moon, this morning after I got out of bed. She wasn't too interested in getting up as it was quite early, being a pottery day. I finally had to gently lift her off the bed so I could make it. She told me in no uncertain terms that she was not ready to face the day by saying, "Mrrpt!" which is her all-purpose word for displeasure. 
She uses it many times a day. And often in the night if I move my legs when she's lying on them or (GOD FORBID!) I try to turn over. Sometimes it pisses her off so much she just jumps off the bed and stalks away. 

So pottery was lovely and it was sweet, as always, to be with Jessie whose project for the day was to try and make end-of-the-year teacher appreciation gifts of extremely cool trinket dishes. You know- like you can put your rings and earrings and things in? 
I got my hibiscus off the shelf and worked at trying to smooth it some and reinforce some places that were obviously too thin and then to make the lady part in the center. It looks a great deal like the other one I made but I don't think it's as good. 
Anyway, it's on the shelf to be fired. So that is that. I forgot to take a picture. That's how thrilled I was. 
That took me almost the entire 2 1/2 hours of class but not quite so I got out my leaf platter that I was supposedly painting at home and did a little more glaze painting on it. I am becoming a tiny bit excited about this project. It, too, started as an end of class effort but I think I may end up liking it. 

Now I am going to show you something that our Lizzie from class is making. She just got inspired one day, as one does, and made a ceramic whippet. Her dogs are wippets and she loves them to pieces. So this is what they are looking like. 

I mean- WHOA! Aren't they beautiful? Can't you just feel their sleeping dog energy? 
She seemingly magically began to pinch them from clay the day she thought of them and we are all blown away. 
It's so lovely when inspiration hits and fingers know exactly what to do to make the inspiration a reality. 

Of course I won't be at pottery next week because I'll be down south, basking in the beauty of that area of the state, watching sunsets over the river, swimming in the lion pool, going to the beach, checking out the thrift stores in the land of the Rich People, eating delicious foods, cooking delicious foods, listening to the bamboo clanking in the breeze, seeing the birds come to roost every night, being with my sweetie, laughing with my sweetie, being sweet with my sweetie. 
So yeah, although I'll miss not seeing everyone at pottery, I'll be okay. I'll survive. 

Speaking of my sweetie, he got dental work done today. Fairly serious dental work. He says he's not in pain but he really does have a high pain threshold. He's doing all the things you're supposed to do and not doing the things you're not supposed to do. I stopped by Publix on my way home to get his antibiotic prescription and while there I bought yogurt drinks, yogurt, watermelon chunks, and ice cream. One needs a reward for the pain and agony of dental procedures. 
This is well known, as Mma Makutsi from "The No. One Ladies' Detective Agency" series by Alexander McCall Smith always says with such complete and utter authority that no one would dare challenge her. 

Here's a magnolia blossom opening up on the tree beside my back porch. 

It's way too high for me to stick my nose in it but here are two buds which are a bit lower.

The blooming of the Magnolia Grandifloras has well and truly begun. 
Must be almost Jessie's birthday. 

And okay, okay. Here's a zinnia from Jessie's zinnia bed.

I am not sure I've ever seen one that exact color. 
Lemon chiffon? 

Another day, another flower. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Just Bite Me, Maurice

 

That's what our cornbread looked like last night after it came out of the oven. Well, the air-fryer, toaster oven thing. I love it for baking biscuits and cornbread. It takes about half the time to get things done and it doesn't heat up the kitchen much. And for two people it's really perfect. Although you can't tell, that is a small skillet and that is just enough cornbread for us for two meals. 

I went shopping today. It was sort of interesting. My plan was to go back to Target and get another pair of cargo shorts. 
The end. 
Well, it seems that since the last time I was in Target they have gotten some more interesting clothing and I spent some time looking around. When I finally got to the dressing room, I had an armful of things. A dress, a skirt, a pair of Levi's (!), a plain T-shirt, and a bathing suit. 
Now I cannot begin to tell you when I last spent any time in a dressing room, excluding the last time I was in Target specifically for cargo shorts. So this was an experience. The lighting is of course horrible and the way the mirrors are so cleverly set up you can see both your back and your front which was curiously pleasing. 
I know I'm almost 72 years old and have a lot of what we might call loose parts but just the fact that clothes that fit me look decent on me is sort of thrilling. 
I wasn't even unhappy about the bathing suit. And I bought it because the one I ordered online is not looking like it'll be here before we leave and of course I must have a bathing suit for the lion pool as our landlords live in an adjoining house and I really don't want to cause any mental disturbance in them. We may also go to the beach. I mean- there's plenty of it. I think I would like that. 
So I got the bathing suit, the cargo shorts, the t-shirt, and yes, I bought another pair of Levi's. I sort of can't control myself in that area. 
I just, I just... well, it's been so long since I've felt comfortable in jeans. The jeans I'm buying are not what anyone call even vaguely sexy. I don't have a body like that. But again- I do not care. They are comfortable and well made and have good pockets. 
It is hard to explain to anyone who has not had major body dysphoria their entire life how odd it is to look into a dressing room mirror and not feel shame and self anger at your image. 
I felt neither of those today. Instead, I felt right. I felt normal. And that, my friends, is thrilling. 

And I suppose my Levi's fixation is better than suddenly losing my mind over heroin. 

Speaking of which, I was reading the daily NYT's book review I get online from them and stumbled on news of a new Rolling Stones biography by a well-regarded music journalist named Bob Spitz. 
It is 704 pages long. 
I have already ordered it. I wonder if I will learn anything new. 

I must tell you that I'm pretty excited.

Glen finished planting the fruit trees today. And hey- I walked around in the garden again. 

 

You see that cat there? She just bit me again. I know she likes me, otherwise why would she follow me around like she does? So why, why does she keep biting me?

As Glen and I say about fifty times a day, "That cat is insane."

I'd show you a picture of the wound as it's sort of interesting but I'll spare you. 

Pottery tomorrow. And on Thursday morning I have to go get my blood drawn for the annual physical I'll be getting later on in May. 
This does not bode well for my mental health. 

Anyway...

Love...Ms. Moon

.

Another One Of Those Days

Great photo there, correct? 
Well, at least I put up a new header picture. I hated to take the old one down but it's been up there for a long time and we'll be going back to Roseland where I can no doubt get more beautiful Florida pictures. 
And dammit, I just love that camellia photo. We all need a camellia photo right about now, do we not?

The photo above is the burn pile where I dumped a bunch of sago palm fronds I'd pruned and some crocosmia I'd pulled and a few camellia branches and some wisteria vine that also came under attack of my big loppers. That's about the sum total of what I did today. I pretty much ruined my day by trying to create an account with the arts and rec center where I take pottery in order to sign up for summer classes. Today was registration day and I wanted and needed to get that taken care of. 
Here's a shameful confession: Jessie has signed me up for every session since I started taking classes well over a year ago. She's also ordered all my clay. She makes things too easy for me sometimes. 
But today she wasn't going to sign herself up because their family will be leaving for North Carolina here before you know it and so she won't be here until next fall's session begins. And besides that, she worked last night and so was asleep today when registration opened at 12:00. 
She sent me the link to sign up and I tried like hell to create an account but due to several factors including the fact that I technically do not live in Leon County where the classes are held and also due to Old Lady Tech User Error I just could not get it done. 
Finally, at noon, I simply called the office at the rec center and got it all done in approximately two minutes. I'm pretty sure the woman I talked to knew who I was. 
Help me, Jesus. 
Which brings to mind a great Ricky Gervais line which goes like this: 

"What could be more arrogant than praying to the god who wouldn't stop the holocaust for help to find your car keys?"

If my (and Ricky Gervais's) blaspheme disturbs you, what in hell are you doing here? 
And no, I am not in an especially good mood due to my failures on the internet. I swear, I was thinking I'd have to go get August out of school to help me. 

So I feel like I haven't done a damn thing and I'm depressed thinking about how no matter what I do in this yard, it never seems like nearly enough, and to be honest, it isn't. But at least the sago palm outside the porch where I sit isn't made up of yellow fronds which are shouting NEGLECT to me anymore. Just a few green ones. I managed not to slit, slice, or puncture my skin today so that's good. Nor did I encounter any weird or dangerous insects. Maurice kept good watch over me at all times from a safe distance. I am sure that if I did something stupid like cut my finger off she would definitely do something like Lassie always did when Timmy got into trouble on the old farm there. 
"Lassie, what's going on? Is Timmy in the well?"
Yes. I can just see Maurice strolling over, inspecting me and tasting a drop of blood to see what was coming out of my body and then meandering back into the house in hopes that the treat fairy had visited her bowl while she wasn't looking. 

I also managed to clean out the ice bin on the in the door ice maker dispenser which had been clogged up by partially melted ice for weeks, thus making the dispenser part useless. 
The hair dryer was involved. And I feel quite proud. 

So, all in all, it wasn't a wasted day. I got some trimming and weeding done, I "fixed" the ice maker, and I managed to get signed up for pottery. 

Mr. Moon is home from the coast after meeting up with Dee Anne's kids and one grandkid to scatter Dee's ashes in the Gulf. One of the children was actually Dee Ann's stepdaughter and she gave Glen a few pictures that Dee had from the olden days of our kids at beaches at various vacations. Here's one picture I took of a picture.

I have absolutely no memory of Lily and Jessie having matching outfits but there's proof they did. Perhaps that's when Dee Ann's stepdaughter got married and they were in the wedding. That event was at the beach. I believe that must have been it. 
And I am happy to report that Kim is still married to the same fellow. He was there today too. 

Mr. Moon's home and I better go make some supper. I have plenty of leftover snow peas and tofu but although he would eat that and even thank me for it, I think he'd rather have chili. 

Off I go. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Sublime To Insane

After our day yesterday of getting some of that sweet, sweet rain, the sky cleared and I noticed that the sunset was one of the fiery ones. It had already started to fade to a softer pastel by the time I was really aware of it but I wanted to catch what I could. I was drawn to the bit of the western sky framed by the church next door and the trees from our yard. The light that comes on in front of the church was already lit and that adds some different lighting which seemed pretty interesting. 
Anyway, I took the picture and there it is. 

And here's what I learned last night: Roasted cabbage is not for us. 
Thank you very much but no. Never again. 
It was a New York Times Cooking recipe and had such things in it as capers, lemon juice, olive oil, garlic. 
All the good stuff. 
But it simply didn't work together in my opinion and I may have done something wrong but the promise of the caramelized cabbage becoming sweet and tender was not fulfilled. It was recommended to roast at 450 degrees for twenty-five to thirty five minutes and after forty-five minutes, my cabbage was becoming charred on the outside leaves and still quite cabbagey in the inside leaves. And I like the taste of cabbage fine but somehow this didn't work at all for us. I ended up throwing the whole mess of leftovers into the compost which is something I almost never do. I should have saved it all and made some cabbage soup of some sort with the remaining wedges but at that point I didn't really want to think about cabbage. 

Mr. Moon worked his butt off today in the back yard planting fruit trees. I went about my business letting him take care of that business. I did check every so often to make sure his body was still in the upright position and it always was. I didn't even realize he'd taken out the last remaining bit of the play set he'd built for the kids years and years ago which was a tower sort of thing. A tree during a storm took out the swings and some other stuff. But he started telling me about how he'd planted some of the trees where the tower had been and I'm like, "Where'd it go?"
"I took it down," he said. 
"How?" I asked. As you know by now, Mr. Moon builds things to be sturdy and to last. 
"With the truck," he said. 
"Oh. Well, that's good," I said. All these years later I'm still thinking, who IS this guy?

I did my walk-about of the garden of course. 

I picked some snow peas. Those vines finally started producing. Not one of the sugar snap seeds germinated which is weird. Snow peas are fine but they can't compare to sugar snaps whose pods are sweet as candy and you can let the peas inside swell and grow to a decent size. They, too, are sweet. So obviously, a superior green pea. 
BUT, one must pick what one has grown and I often reach in one of my pockets to find it full of snow peas I'd forgotten were there. 
Bless cargo shorts. 

That's a few of them in one of my flower bowls. 

Everything else in the garden is looking good and then I gave a quick once-over to the bed beside the kitchen porch to check that out and holy Jesus. I found an amaryllis absolutely covered in the growing-ever-bigger-but-still-children Georgia Thumpers. 

That wasn't a tenth of all the ones on that plant. My god but they are eating machines. They're bigger than anything I want to grab and smush with my hands now so I knocked them all to the ground, thinking I could stomp on them but they ARE grasshoppers and they ARE young and spry and I couldn't stomp a one. They were hopping around like popcorn in a skillet. 
I wonder how their mother tells them apart. 

Mr. Moon is gone for the night. He's near the coast at his friend Alan's house and no, they're not going fishing tomorrow. In this instance, they're doing something sweet and important which is to take the ashes of Glen's sweet sister Dee Ann who died quite awhile ago to gently give to the Gulf, a place Dee Ann loved so much. Alan is kindly lending his boat and his piloting of it and Dee Ann's children are going to be there too. They've been planning on doing this for years and now it is coming to fruition. They're staying at Mexico Beach, which is farther along the coast than St. George and which is where Dee and her husband stayed whenever they got the chance. I believe that Dee Ann's husband's ashes were sprinkled in the Gulf too so it's a romantic notion to think that somehow they'll find each other in the ocean currents. 
Whatever comforts us. 

And now to move on, what do YOU think about last night's assassination attempt at the White House Correspondent's Dinner? When I first heard about it I was struck by how bizarrely it all happened from the fact that the Orange Poop Baby attended the dinner at all which he has never done before and that despite every bit of security it would be assumed possible was at the event and yet some guy with a gun got past security and managed to get off a few shots? And I have not read anything definitive about where the gun was allegedly discharged, whether in the same room where the dinner was going on or in another room or...what? Where?
And then throw in the fact that Secret Service and all those guys (and women) were issuing assurances within a short amount of time that the shooter had been found, subdued, and apprehended and the only injury was to one Secret Service member whose bullet-proof vest, according to Trump, saved his life. The man was treated at a local hospital and then released. Allegedly. 
I have so much to say but I really don't know shit. The things I DO know, like the fact that within two hours, the Orange Poop Baby was holding a press conference at the White House whose main message was that see? The ballroom needs to be built because...security, sounded then and sounds now to be as fake as the man's tan. 

Let me give you this. And thank you, Jeff Tiedrich. 

Security? Give me a fucking break. I just want to say that if this was not a staged event, then the security under Donald Trump is a big fat fucking joke and the fact that we all so calmly received the news that there was another assassination attempt against the president is proof that we have truly jumped the shark, accepted unreality as reality, and all because we, the frogs, have been in this pot of boiling water for so long we can't tell the difference and accept the killing heat as life as usual. 

I remember when Trump decided to bomb Iran and we all knew it was to distract the world from the Epstein files that my biggest fear was that the war-not-a-war would not go well, that it would be hugely unpopular and that another distraction would be called for and that, of course, would not go well either, and then...
One distraction after another, each of them intended to not only distract from the Epstein files but from the latest distraction used to distract. 

Know what I mean? 

I'm going to go cook some tofu and snow peas. 

Love...Ms. Moon