The Art Of My Soul

Here's a little picture which hangs in my kitchen by the doorway leading outside. I've had it for so many years that I forget to see it. Do you know what I mean? My friend Sue, who died in 1995, I think, gave it to me so I've had it for at least thirty years but I'm sure more, as she was not up to shopping the last few years of her life. 
A little while ago though, I was in the kitchen and for some reason my eye went to it. It's quite a small picture and it's been a very long time since I've really studied it. I know nothing about it. It probably came from a thrift store, or some funky shop. There are no markings on it at all. It hangs by way of a piece of roughly knotted twine and is painted directly on that piece of particle board. 

I cannot imagine living in a place where this little picture does not live too. I may not think about it every day but when I do, it charms me, I am glad to have it with me, a sort of totem from Sue. 

The sun finally came out today. We got a good amount of rain in the past five gray, drizzly days. Everything looks so much happier. It's chillier today than it has been, although the bright sun made it feel less grimly cold. I went out to garden to pick salad greens and Maurice followed me out, as she does. 

Later I found her on the little love seat in the library, nestled among the pillows and the throw, guarded by the two big bears who who live there.

Either she's been in another fight or else she just has a permanent scar on her nose. Or both. It's a hard job, protecting the homestead from intruders looking to take over her food bowl, her treats, her cozy napping spots, her own humans. 

Today has been very quiet. Mr. Moon left to go back up to the cabin. Something about the roof and also, he is going to paint our bedroom. He brought home a million color paint sample thing and after comparing at least three of the colors to the rug we bought for that room and which is still wrapped up in our library, we decided that sea mist was the color we needed. I cannot tell you how deeply uninterested I am in what color that bedroom will be but somewhere in my heart, I am still holding forth hope that there will be a turning point for me in which I can open my soul and my mind to the idea of spending time there and if that does happen, I think sea mist would be a fine color for the bedroom walls. 

At this point in time, however, it feels like...whatever. 
But I helped the man pack up soup and I made him a salad of greens and gave him a piece of goat cheese to go on the focaccia I made last night so that he will not be hungry. I really did not think the soup was very good at all but he seemed to like it okay. The best part of the meal was the bread and goat cheese and spicy greens, dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and pepper. 
Look how beautiful these greens are. 

And this is at least one good reason to live in North Florida- we can eat these greens from November through March. Maybe April. 

So I did that and off he went. I took the trash and stopped at the post office where yet another pair of Levi's were waiting for me. I now have four pairs of Levi's. One the ancient pair I'm still patching, one pair from Costco, and two pairs ordered directly from Levi. Two of the pairs are men's jeans, two are women's. 
I think it is obvious I have been missing wearing jeans. And for some reason, the only ones I want are Levi's, which of course are real jeans, not to be confused with other jeans which are only pretenders. 

This is merely the opinion of an old hippie lady.

I did some sweeping and dusting and even straightened out my closet a bit. Mostly just shoes, finding them and pairing them neatly, cleaning the dust off those which needed that. I swept the closet too which was, if not knee deep in dust, at least in great need of dust removal. I also got out all the leather things I wanted to clean and condition. Two purses, including the red one, a pair of shoes I'm going to give to May, and my boots which I have not worn in years. The shoes I'm giving to May are black platforms, simple, beautiful, and never out of style. I fear that wearing them myself might be a bit dangerous. I used to be able to trot about and even dance for hours wearing them but things have changed. I can absolutely see myself twisting or breaking an ankle or taking a tumble and breaking something else. 
I have been talking about aging a lot, haven't I? 

So I did those few things and I sat down at the piano for a little while and I enjoyed that although, as always, I despair at my feeble, sad attempts to even hit the right notes but when I do, I am happy and when I don't, it's not that bothersome. At this point in time, I am certain that "concert pianist" or even "Children's Sunday School pianist" is not a career option for me. 

Thank god. It's all for fun and all for my very own enjoyment and that is that. 

I actually made a nice, large salad today with some of the greens I'd picked, canned white beans, peppers, cucumbers, red onion, and cherry tomatoes. 

Now if that's not a truly life-affirming salad, I don't know what is and yet, it held very little interest for me. 
I've not felt much like eating the past few days which I am fairly sure is due to what I am calling "kidney stone gastritis." It's not the Zepbound because I haven't changed my dosage and as I said, it's just been the past few days. But I've been having the same symptoms that always accompany a dancing kidney stone and the whole stomach/appetite thing is one of them. 

I am very glad that I've got an appointment with a different urologist in early January to see what he has to say about all of this. I can live with it but if I don't have to, I'd rather not. And of course, there is no perfect remedy and if there's one thing I know, it's that any process which rids the body of kidney stones is neither painless or easy. 

Tomorrow is pottery- the last class of this session. My aim is to finish glazing my poor, vastly imperfect flower bowl. There won't be time for anything else. And so it goes. I wonder if my fish spoon rest is out of the kiln. We shall see. 

One other thing I did today was to water the porch plants. Some of them looked so beautiful to me, especially in the sunshine. 

Pineapple plant, grown from cutting the crown of a whole pineapple and sticking it into the dirt. 

The banyon I was certain had died last winter. 

Here's another picture from my kitchen. 

My kitchen hutch with cards that beloveds have sent to me. 
I believe that a house can be an art gallery of sorts. 

In fact, a life can be a gallery of art filled with every sort of pictures, paintings, photos, found objects, glass art, plant art, food and cooking art, textile art,

 folk art, 

and especially...child art. 

The things that make our hearts happy, that have deep meaning for us- these are the things I want to surround myself with and, over the years, have. 

That is definitely enough for tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It Still Hurts

I just wrote a long rambling post which was going to be entitled "Whingeing" but then I watched this video and I deleted all my words. 

Forty-five years ago today since John Lennon was murdered. I'm never going to be done grieving. Oh, how lucky I was to have been around when he was alive and in love and making music. 

Bless him. Bless Yoko. Bless all of us who loved him and miss him even still. 

 

Love...Mary

Sunday At The Moon House

 Jessie took that picture when her sweet boys allowed me to read them a book. In fact, August brought me the book and asked if I'd read it. It's an old favorite called "The Hutchinson Book of Pig Tales" and it is indeed filled with different stories and poems about pigs. Some are quite funny, some are a little heartbreaking, some are just silly. The one we were reading was a funny one for sure and I love it myself. It is especially pleasing to young boys as it mentions burping, farting, and peeing. So you know it's hysterical. If you have a young person in your life who loves stories, this is a good book to own. 

We were lucky enough to have the Weatherfords out for a visit today. Vergil has spent the entire weekend helping Mr. Moon with the lighting in the GarageMahal. They have replaced the florescent lights with LED lights but with the same fixtures. This process has been explained to me but I don't understand one damn bit of it. And thankfully, I do not need to. 
I am so grateful to Vergil. He takes care of us in so many ways and is so gracious in his doing of it. 
So when Vergil came out today to get back to the project he started yesterday, Jessie brought those wild boys to come and hang out with the old Mer. 
You know I was happy. 
We had lunch which was mostly leftovers and I now have an almost leftover-free refrigerator. Some of those leftovers included chili, shrimp from yesterday's lunch, half a breakfast burrito that came from this morning's post duck hunt breakfast that Mr. Moon had with Owen, and cut-up vegetables with ranch dressing. The boys had what they always want. The cheese toast with tomatoes for August, and the peanut butter, honey, and raisin sandwich for Levon. 

And after the lunch and the story, they got to watch TV and I am sort of wondering if their mother doesn't bribe them to ask me to read to them by promising that they can watch TV if they do. 
Whatever. I love it so much I don't care. 

An interesting thing that happened was that somehow the subject of home birth came up when I was talking to the lads and I proceeded to tell them about how and why women began to want home birth, attended by midwives instead of hospital births with mostly male doctors. And also, how male doctors stole the midwives' power and good name by slandering them as ignorant, dirty, and witches. I even talked about the reasons women started deciding that going to a hospital to have their babies wasn't what they wanted to do because of all the things which happened in hospitals that were not only unnecessary but cruel. Things like tying women down (yes, that was fairly standard) because they were being so heavily medicated that they were not in control of themselves. Things like babies having to be separated from their mothers for a long time after birth for the same reason. They were too drugged to safely take care of their own babies so into the nursery they went! 
And so much more. 
But here's the thing- Levon who was draped over the arm of Mr. Moon's chair while I was on the couch telling them these things, was completely engaged. He was not faking it. He asked appropriate questions. He understood the points I was making. He kept his eyes on me.
It was pretty awesome. 
August may or may not have been as interested but he stayed in the room, he listened. 

So it was a very good visit and the boys got the TV they wanted and the men got the lights they wanted and Jessie and I got the conversations we wanted. All was good. 

Bye-bye treats consisted of dates, prunes, and seven M&M's apiece. I imagine I will be handing out bye-bye treats when they are in high school, should I be so lucky as to still be around. 

It's been raining most of the day. Again, mostly a drizzle but steady as can be. The kind of day where working on a jigsaw puzzle is a completely appropriate activity to engage in. 
Also a little cuddling. 

God! I have to go make supper! What am I thinking? 
I wish I could give all of you a bye-bye treat as you have been so kind to stop by. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Hearing Aids, Day 1

I generally forget that I have Christmas decorations up all year long. The vintage tree ornaments hanging up top go about a quarter of the way around the kitchen. They belonged to Glen's family. I am sure they are coated with the black greasy dust which is a constant annoyance to anyone who lives around here. I think it may be a product of the train tracks running through my back yard but who knows? 
Certainly not me. 
Now, the star lights framing the doorway have been hanging there, plugged in twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for quite possibly ten years. Some of them are losing their brightness and none of them are going through the entire spectrum of colors they did for the first five or six years. 
I believe I got those lights at an after-Christmas sale at the Walgreens in Monticello. I also believe I have a back-up string just in case the unimaginable happens and they finally give up but no string of star lights could possibly be as faithful and sturdy as those. 

So see- it's not Christmas decorations per se I do not like. It's really just Christmas. 

Today has been a day of mixed emotions. It hit me this morning that I really was about to go get hearing aids and although I have been feeling very positive about this development, knowing that it will indeed enlarge and open up my world, it is yet one more sign that my parts are wearing out and simply do not work as well as they should. Or used to. And will never be getting better. 
I think almost everyone has a negative view of hearing aids. The ones from days of yore were huge, bulky things and I will forever connect them to my grandmother who became profoundly deaf at a very young age and I never got a definitive answer on how that happened. My grandfather told me once that she became deaf when she blew her nose while holding it to clear her ears. 
Somehow I doubt that. 
But she could barely hear a thing and her balance was so wacky. I look back and I realize that I never really knew the real Ruth Slocum Alexander who was, by all reports an incredibly spirited woman who dared defy some of the restrictions put upon women in her day. "Her day" began in 1893 when she was born and my god, that was a long time ago. A hundred and thirty-two years? My mother could remember when Granny could sing and dance but by the time I came to know her, she was restrained for the most part, quiet, and apt to stumble. 
AND, she had hearing aids. They were the kind that fit into her glasses which in and of themselves were rather horrendous. I can remember distinctly how they magnified her eyes to the point where they scared me a little. And the hearing aids had plastic tubes that went into her ears and they would shriek at times and took batteries of which she had hundreds, used and spent. Now I never really looked at her and thought, "Wow, my granny looks weird in those things!" but I did wish she could hear us better and I was aware that those devices set her apart from the other ladies in her circle. 

And so even though I was quite aware that today's hearing aids are completely different than the ones Granny wore, I cannot help but make that connection in my head and this morning, with the rain pattering down and the sky iron gray and the temperature not comfortable for us Floridians, my head went back to those early memories and just the words, "hearing aid" made me feel dull and left me wondering what's next? 
A weekly perm and blue dye and a hair net and black clunky shoes and having three dresses, all the same exact pattern, just different designs to be rotated as the week goes on? 
Oh Lord. 
Of course not and yet...

But Glen and I took off in the rain and the cold for our appointments with Ms. JaLisa. Costco was packed, despite the weather but we went directly to the hearing center and JaLisa gave us the introductory information together and then first me, and then Glen, got our fittings and she set everything the way it should be set with some sort of technological and (for all I know) alien magic and our phones are now blue-toothed paired with our devices. 
But. 
But. JaLisa let slip that she would be gone for the next two weeks for bereavement leave as her father had died on Thanksgiving. 
We both gave her our condolences, of course, and after Glen left the little sound-proof booth/office, JaLisa whipped out her phone and showed me some pictures of her daddy and told me how beloved he was and how many people showed up last night at a memorial for him and then we were both crying and I mostly just listened to her because that is what she needed. She needed to be heard. 
She actually needed not to be at work but she assured me that it helped being there, to keep her focused on something other than her grief. 
So my part of the instructions and fitting took quite awhile because there was no way I was going to rush that woman, no way I could be impatient, no way I could not listen to the words of her heart. 
I was deeply moved. I had no words of advice- I don't know what it's like to lose a beloved father but I do know what it's like to lose a beloved. 

And all of that put everything in perspective for me. Hey! At least I've gotten old enough to need hearing aids. And with them, I will be able to hear my grandchildren better, not to mention the fact that I have also lived long enough to have grandchildren who know me and know I love them. 

And then Glen had his turn and then we both hugged JaLisa and she thanked us over and over for being so understanding and off we went to a very late lunch which didn't bother me because my stomach has been bothering me a bit but which he sorely needed as breakfast had been long, long ago. 

So far, I am not noticing a huge difference in my ability to hear. Nothing sounds newly and terribly loud. I can still hear the same patter of rain and I don't know what it will be like when I'm in a situation with lots of background noise although I will say that I could hear the Muzak in the restaurant way too clearly as they were playing Christmas songs and fuck that. But I could have turned the aids down if I had wanted. 
I am realizing though, that I will have something foreign in my ears forever or at least until I'm too demented to notice or care that I can't hear or too dead to need them. And that's weird. It gives me crazy respect for my Granny, though. And I'll get used to this. 

As for the vanity of wanting them to be as invisible as possible- they are. I actually took some pictures of the side of my head to show you what they look like in my ear but I was so horrified at what the side of my face and my earlobe look like that I can't bring myself to post them. 
Delete, delete, delete.
So yes, I am vain, of course. But hey! You can barely see those cute little miracle devices. And getting past the age spots and not-wrinkles-but-folds will probably prevent most people from looking into my ears anyway. So what the hell does it matter? And as I said, I'll get used to the feeling of having them, just as I've gotten used to wearing glasses. 

Well, let's hope it's like that and not like wearing a bra which I have never gotten used to and never will. At least I care about my hearing more than I care about where my bosoms are in relation to my chest. 

Ooh boy. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Phew! Glad That Chore Is Done

 

Well, I have done my Christmas decorating. Or holiday decorating or whatever you want to call it. I may still decide to bring in the little Norfolk Island Pine I bought at Publix last year and which has spent the summer in a pot on the porch, and set it up with some lights. 
This would mean I would have to go buy some lights though. The battery kind. The plug-in kind would pull the poor tiny pine over. 
I got the Santa lights you see above at the Oak Tree Treasures resale store when I went shopping with Jessie. I spied them right away and knew they'd be coming home with me. 

I had to pay seven dollars more than the original price but I figured the Santas were worth it. They're pretty cute. Also, they blink on and off, adding seasonal excitement to my already exciting and eclectic decor! 

Jessie and I had a good time at Oak Tree. We went through all the clothes and she got a few things for her and the boys and I got a pair of linen britches for me with four pockets, and I also found two shirts for Mr. Moon that were Large Talls, which is not an easy size to find. I suppose someone died who was large and tall and his clothes were donated. The same was true with the women's clothes, except the size of the possibly dead woman was Medium Petite. 
Of course both Mr. LT or Ms. MP could be alive and thriving and were just interested in winnowing down their closets but Oak Tree Treasures IS a hospice sponsored establishment. They get some good stuff. I'll give you that. 

Although the design of the cabinetry here isn't my favorite, I do love me a good hi-fi/stereo entertainment system. I always wanted one but I suppose our family didn't have the bucks to spare for such a fancy item. This one wasn't cheap but it looked like all the parts were working and for sure the radio was, as Christmas music was lilting from the stereo. The volume was quite low so I didn't have to go screaming out into the parking lot. Or perhaps the volume wasn't that low and after I get my hearing aids Christmas music being played in commercial spaces will make me even more insane. 

So many questions yet to be answered! 
While we were in the store, rain began to pound down and I was not happy at the thought of driving home in it but by the time we'd finished our shopping, it had passed and for lunch we went to Chow Time because we were being very, very bad girls. 
Now, that is not really true. 
It IS true that one could consume at least five thousand calories in less than an hour at Chow Time but if you make decent choices, it doesn't have to be that bad. I got my usual- hot and sour soup, boiled shrimp, various vegetables no doubt cooked in some delicious oil concoction, and about three bite-sized morsels of meat. And I was happy and I was satisfied and thus, we did not sin. And we were happy. 

Jessie drove off to pick up the boys and I drove home to get the clean sheets on the bed, water the hallway plants, make a pot of chili, and do the Christmas decorating. A good day, all in all. 

Lily's family is going through it. Well, at least Gibson is. Since Lily is an experienced mama, she diagnosed Gibson who had stayed home from school with strep. She took him to the Urgent Care and yes, that's what he had, along with a terribly sore throat and a 104 degree temperature. 
Poor Gibson. And yet he never lost his sweet, sweet smile even as fever flamed his cheeks. 

As we all know, strep can and often does race through a family and although I hope with all my heart this doesn't happen, I will be more surprised if it doesn't than if it does. 
Meanwhile, the pups are still making everyone happy. 

Sully, Magnolia, and Xena. They are all in doggie heaven. 

So as I said, I made a pot of chili and now I'm going to make a skillet of cornbread and cut up some vegetables to eat on the side. Martinis have been made. It got chilly today after that big rain and it looks like it will be raining on and off all weekend, with temperatures in the low fifties at night. 
This is hard on us, my friends. Send thoughts and prayers, please, that we might survive these extreme weather conditions. I am now on a mission to see how many cashmere sweaters I can wear at one time. So far, that number is three. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 
Love...Ms. Moon

Purse Tales And Hippie Magic

I may have spoken before about my deep passion for leather purses. 
At least a hundred times. 
I do not know how I developed this passion but I do remember my first really good leather purse. It must have been around 1983 or so because I was in nursing school and one of my main forms of entertainment was to go to Gayfer's and wander through their immense purse selection, spending more time than was probably healthy stroking, caressing, and lusting after the expensive ones. The ones whose leather felt like butter and smelled like...leather. The ones with good hardware, sturdy, functional, and never gaudy or overly large. 
And then, one day I bought one. 
It was a Stone Mountain bag and after just having checked to see if the company is still in business, I see that it is but it does not appear to be making or selling the semi-luxury bags it was back in the eighties. I mean, we're not talking Chanel bags here. But- you know, they cost enough to scare me off for a very long time. I wonder if they went on sale and that spurred me into buying one? 
I don't know but I do know that I loved that bag with all of my heart. I can't stand fussy bags and would never buy one. I like bags that might not look out of place being carried by a woman a thousand years ago. Or a man. Bags to carry seeds in or messages sent to far-away places or medications or herbs or both of those. Bags that were made to be absolutely utilitarian and were absolutely made of animal hide. 

That Stone Mountain bag is very long gone and I have probably owned a hundred different bags since I bought that one. Some of them a bit pricey, some of them bought at thrift stores and so not pricey, some of them just regular middle-of-the road quality that served my needs well. I can remember many of my favorite bags. Bags that really meant something to me in that they brought me a great deal of pleasure. 

At some point, I became a little obsessed with Coach leather bags. We are not talking about fabric Coach bags with their damn signature design on them. I would not even think about owning one of those. 

So sorry, Coach, but I'm speaking my truth. 

No. I fell in love with the bags made of sturdy leather with simple designs. The ones that you buy as an investment. The ones that will stand up to the test of time. 

And then they put out a design they called the Hippie Flap Bag and that was it, I wanted it, I needed it, I absolutely had to fucking have it. I believe we are in the later 90's by now. I am not certain. 
There were two sizes of the Hippie Flap Bag and it was the smaller one I yearned for. And I wanted it in red. And that is what Mr. Moon got me for Christmas that year and I loved that purse with all of my heart. 
I still do. I still have it and yes, it's in great shape. The leather could use better conditioning than what I can give it but it is absolutely as sturdy as it was the Christmas day I unwrapped it. 
However.
Because there is no such thing as the perfect purse any more than there is such thing as the perfect human being, I discovered that it was, for my uses, small. 
Too small. 
So I used it on Glen's and my Friday date nights when I didn't need to carry everything from baggies of Cheerios to pacifiers to spit-up rags and spare diapers to emergency supplies for unexpected childhood accidents. It was perfect for those dates. 
Eventually though, we quit doing the going out on Friday night thing and the red purse got hung on the rack in the guest room where I keep the purses I cannot bear to get rid of. 

And what in hell does any of this have to do with today, December 4th, 2025? 
Well, I'll tell you.

When it was just my neck that was fucked up, it occurred to me that perhaps my backpack purse which I kept pretty full, might be contributing to the problem. Now, in the many decades I have used a backpack purse, that's never been a problem but hell- it could not hurt to lighten that load, right? 
So I took the red hippie purse off the peg from which it was hanging and I emptied out my backpack bag of all the things I carry in it. I whittled down those things until they would all fit into my beloved red hippie bag, including my emergency Benadry and Ibuprofen and Ativan, bandaids, keys, an emory board, a handkerchief- don't laugh!, and my pocket knife. Also some Chapstick, mints, gum, and a few pens. And that's about it. I can easily fit all those things in there plus my phone and my ear pod charging/storage case. 
I am actually amazed. 
I have a theory that purses are portals into another dimension where things cross over into and then, when you are absolutely certain they are gone forever, cross back over to appear. Trust me. This happens. I lost an entire lid of pot once in a purse I was carrying, only to discover it was back weeks later. Because they are portals, they have abilities which science does not yet have an explanation for, such as abilities to hold more than you'd think they would and inabilities to hold as much as you'd think they would. 
This is the magic of leather bags. Or something. 

Bottom line- I am thrilled to be carrying my very small bag around. I would love to use it until the leather is softened by years of use.

We shall see. 

It has been as gray as the ceiling of a quonset hut today, spitting rain now and then, and also very, very chilly. Again with the wet cold. Now it is actually raining. Not a downpour, but a good steady drizzle. This is supposed to continue through the weekend and on to Monday. We need this so much. The rain, not the cold. But I'll take whatever comes with the rain. 

I ordered and paid for my hearing aids today. So did Mr. Moon. We have back-to-back appointments on Saturday to have them fitted and what all else needs to be done. I've downloaded the app which I can use to control the aids on my phone. You get a remote control too but remotes get lost, phones not quite as much, plus most of us have them with us every moment of the day. 
This is all so crazy. The folks at the Costco hearing clinic that I've come into contact with are so nice, so obviously used to working with older people, and who make the whole experience so much better than it could be. I got to see Andrew again today and he and the woman whose name was JaLisa who helped both me and Glen, have made what could have been an uncomfortable and daunting experience into a very comfortable and down-to-earth situation. Dare I say that I feel almost an affection for these two people? 

The oddest thing happened to me while I was finishing up my transaction at the counter of the hearing clinic with JaLisa, Andrew came from behind that counter to go on break or something. I'm not sure. He stopped for a moment to add a few comments to the running commentary the three of us had been having, mostly about him, and I had the distinct feeling that when he passed behind me, he was going to hug me like one of my children would. 
I knew that would not happen and it didn't. 
But he did grasp my shoulder briefly yet firmly and gave it a squeeze as he strode off and I felt as if I'd had a premonition which is just another thing that science does not yet have the explanation for. It was a feeling I can't really describe except to say that my premonition had been so strong that his actual touch on my shoulder felt preordained and THAT was shocking. 

And who knows? Maybe it's all only the power of the red Hippie Flap Bag which I had strapped over that shoulder. 

Which makes me think about this song, written by the hugely talented  John Sebastian and performed by his band, The Loving Spoonful. 

Sigh and sigh again. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pottery, Puppies, And Pain

Back to pottery today and I've noticed something on pottery days when I get up about an hour and a half earlier than I usually do which is that it's not nearly as hard to do as I would think it would be and honestly, I'm probably more cheerful than I am when I lay in bed for awhile before I get up, mulling over my morning angst. I also have less of those morning dreams which can be so disturbing. All-in-all I'd probably be a lot better off getting up early every day but will I do that? 
Most likely not. 
Today was our next to the last class for this session and I spent the first part of it finishing up the glaze on my second fishy spoon rest. I swear to you- I love making these cheerful fish. Well, there have only been two but I would like to keep going down that path or, well, that river, at least a little longer. The fish are easy to make the shape of and the fact that I can use so many bright colors on them makes me happy. I am not looking for perfection in any way with a fish spoon rest. I am just looking for color and a smile and a utilitarian object to set beside the stove. 
When I'd gunked up my fish with a serious amount of glaze and put it on the shelf in the kiln room, I began to work on my second flower bowl- the one with the two petals I'd chipped before it was fired but already too dry to repair. I did some smoothing of the petals and sanded down the chipped areas as best I could and decided to simply embrace the imperfection. Perfection is far more important when it comes to a bowl that's been thrown on the wheel, whereas a wonky fish or flower bowl doesn't need to be perfect in my opinion. So I got four of the petals painted but decided they would be leaves, although anatomically, those leaves are in an incorrect location. 
Again I say...oh well. Next week I'll finish it up and send it on its way to the fiery pit of the kiln and see what happens. 
Conversation during class was kept at a minimum. Everyone was trying to finish their last pieces to get fired before classes end and a lot of concentration was happening. And I will tell you that I am so looking forward to trying hearing aids so that I can more fully take in the conversations in class that ARE going on. Having admitted that I do indeed have a significant hearing loss and am no longer in any denial of the fact, I am realizing more and more the ways in which this loss is affecting my life. 

After class, Jessie and I went to a local deli place we like for their salad bar. It's fresh and plentiful in choices. And they have the very best crackers. Liz at Field and Fen sometimes makes her own crackers, and I am feeling inspired to make some of my own. I want them to be whole grain and have sliced almonds in them along with sunflower seeds and perhaps even golden raisins or dried cranberries for sweetness. If I do make crackers, you know I'll be talking about it here. 

Lily had gotten in touch with me to see if I wanted to come by her house on my way home. She had both of the puppies there, Sully and Xena, and she thought I might like to meet them. And of course, Pepper would be there too. I'd already had a lovely snuggle with Sophie this morning at Jessie's house. She's the kind of dog who will bring you a toy and then simply lean all of her weight on you, the better to be petted and loved on. So why not make it a day of seeing all my granddogs?

All right. Xena, Princess Warrior pup is the softest, cutest baby you would ever want to see. She kisses and she snuggles and she goes into her crate on her own when the stimulation overcomes her. 

Sorry for the blur but it's not easy getting a good shot of a wiggly puppy. I was determined to let her start to learn my smell, to know that I am family and I think that process has begun. 
She is somewhat of a celebrity in that the picture of her and her siblings in the truck went Tallahassee-viral and all nine pups were adopted within three hours. Also, all of the vets and pet stores saw the picture and were hoping that at least one would come through their doors, including the vet Lauren and Lily use who were delighted to see her. 

Here's a picture of Mr. Moon getting Xena kisses when he stopped by Lily's this afternoon on his way home. 

And one more of Xena with Owen.

What could possibly be sweeter?

Sully, whom I had not met yet, is also an adorable doggie. He is probably about twelve weeks old and is still larger than Xena. That will not last long. He is already wily and wants to escape and roam about, having thoroughly explored the fenced-in part of the yard. 

So there you have it. 

Mr. Moon did indeed get home. The new roof on the cabin is coming along nicely. 

He's already gone again although this time only to a Ducks Unlimited annual dinner event which of course I could attend if I had the slightest desire, which you know I don't. But don't cry for me, Argentina. I'm going to eat leftover tofu with cashews and blistered snap peas that I made last night and which may be the best tofu dish I ever made in my life. 
Also, he'll be home before bedtime. 

Oh! My shoulders and back feel as if they'd been beaten with a baseball bat. I have not looked to see if I have bruises but if I don't, it would be a miracle. Let's put it like this- I wouldn't let my husband hug me when he got home. 
However, I do think I have more mobility and the shoulder pain I was experiencing, which is completely different than the shoulder pain I was having before the massage, has noticeably decreased. 
So there's that. 
But it still wasn't worth the pain.

Oh we go. 

Love...Ms. Moon