I Got Myself Back To The Garden

 Mr. Moon should be home in an hour or so and it's about time. This cat needs her daddy human. I can't believe we call each other "mama" and daddy" when we're talking to the cats about each other. 
"Go kiss Daddy, now," I tell Jack when I'm about to turn out the light. And often, he does. 

A minute before I took that picture of Maurice, she was laying on my arm which does hinder my typing. She must have heard something that caught her attention when I snapped that shot because she's obviously in her alert mode. 

I've done something today that I have only ever done a few other times in my life. I've made a soup that may not be fit to eat. I'm not kidding you. It's a kitchen sink/refrigerator soup and I'm usually very good at judging what will and will not go together in a soup of that nature but something went askew in my judgement this afternoon. I think it might be the leftover cauliflower I put in with the chopped olive and lemon juice sauce on it. Or it could be the piece of chicken that I cooked last night with more lemon juice. Or it could be all the greens I put in the soup. Or it could just be that none of those ingredients want to marry and that's that. I keep adding things to try and bring those recalcitrant and diverse flavors together but it just ain't working. I threw in a few parmesan rinds to see if that will mellow it out but I have a feeling I'm throwing good food after bad. I know that when Glen's on the road he snacks a lot which is what we all do, I think, so he's never really hungry when he gets home and I thought a little bowl of soup would be good. Also, when I talked to him one night when he was with his guys, he sort of proudly proclaimed that there wasn't a vegetable in the house so I figured I'd get a few nutrients in him too. 
I have got a nice little loaf of bread rising that I made with yeast and a cup of sourdough discard which I'm hoping will give it some flavor. I let my starter sit idle so long it's taking more than one day of feeding to restore it. 

I worked in the garden today and yes, it was hot. We're up in the 90's now. I saw a meme on FB that said, "Hey, y'all. Florida is still preheating." Which it is. You think it's hot now? Haha! But I managed to finally pull all the bolted collards and lettuce. Under one of my collard plants I found these mushrooms. 

Aren't they amazing? 
As far as I can recall, I've never seen them before. I am almost sure they are Red Cracked or Red Cracking Boletes after doing some google searches. Supposedly you can eat them but they don't seem to be a big favorite for the mushroom gourmands. Plus, the last thing that soup needs is iffy mushrooms added to it. But they are pretty. 

I did some weeding and we have got to mulch. The ground gets hard as a brick. We have huge lawn bags of leaves that Mr. Moon brought home from suburban yards when the oaks were shedding but they're too heavy for me to wrangle. 

The tomatoes are coming along. Here are some cherry tomatoes that are looking promising. 

The tomatoes that I started from Jennifer's seeds that she sent me which are planted in the bags, are growing very well and look quite promising. 

They look a little droopy in that picture because they were just watered and their leaves are a little heavy. I see blooms! And the beans are what you see on the right, there. 

A week from now, I'll be picking baskets full of them. Maybe not the big baskets yet, but baskets nonetheless. 

I can't believe how well the squashes are growing. 

This acorn squash is bigger than my hand now. 

Look at those happy little summer squash! Or crookneck squash, as they are sometimes called. 

This one's going to be ready to eat in a day or so. I need to get out my recipe for summer squash soup with is so good that even squash haters change their minds when they taste it. 

And I guess that's all I have to talk about today. I didn't even leave my yard once and that was fine. As always, it'll be somewhat of a shock to the system to have another person in the house with me but I think I remember how that goes. 

Oh! He just got home! He startled me, and Maurice jumped up and ran outside. It'll take a little while for us all to become acclimated again. But we will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Birthday Love

Well, there's my darling baby with her darling husband at her birthday lunch. We had such a good time! Lily, Lauren, and Liz Sparks were all there too. 

The restaurant Jessie chose is a good one. I haven't eaten there in years- hadn't even thought about it in years, really. The food is always so fresh, the menu changes daily, and there's something for everyone. I thought I had taken a picture of what I got but somehow, I didn't. Oh well. 
It was a very pretty plate. Very Florida. It was on the salad menu and I guess it was a salad of sorts as there were baby greens on it...under the fried green tomatoes and three large, perfect shrimp. 
Good GAWD, Y'ALL!

I was so very glad that Liz Sparks could come. Thirty five years ago, just about right now, she was with me when I had that baby girl. One of the best things about having a home birth is that you get to have the people with you that you want to be there. No residents you've never met wandering in and out of your room pretending that they know what they're doing, or nurses changing shifts on you just when you've bonded with one. 
I will say that I had far more people with me when Jessie was born than I needed to have. But it was good! I wanted all of them there. They were the people I loved the most in the world and I do not think all of them were actually in the room when I gave birth. 
My husband was there, of course, also Hank, May, and Lily, our dear, dear friend Anne-Helene from Norway, all three of my brothers, my darling Lynn, my midwife Erice. She had been with me for all three of my previous births, even the one I ended up in the hospital with. A different midwife actually caught May but Erice was right there. And she caught Lily which was not an easy birth at all. 
I had met Liz Sparks a year or so before when we were working at the Birth Centre together and we had known we were meant to be from the very start. So I asked her too. 

We talked today about how I'd told her before the birth to please not fucking tell me that I looked beautiful in labor which is something that gets said frequently. Sometimes it's true. Often, it's true. I never felt like it was for me, though. So when Liz got to my house, I was in the bathroom vomiting, which is what I do in labor, and she said, "You're right. You look like a cow." 
It was so funny although I did not appreciate it in the moment. After the birth though, I bought her a wind chime with a cow on it and she says she still has it and it's her favorite wind chime ever. I'm just so grateful I still have her. She has played a huge role in our family and with my children. We were indeed meant to be.

So back to lunch- we all had a very good time talking and celebrating and catching up. Lily and Lauren really do love the new house and they said that the kids all like it very much too. Even Gibson. He loves his new room. Hurray! 

Speaking of Lily, here's the beautiful cheesecake that she made from a description that Vergil texted her of what Jessie had said her dream cake would be.

She did not bake the cheesecake. She has not yet unpacked her kitchen and this all happened last night. Luckily, Lauren had still been a work and brought home a Boar's Head cheesecake from Publix and all the ingredients and Lily took it from there. She had to cut the strawberries on a paper plate with a plastic knife! That's a caramel drizzle and it's got shaved chocolate on top. We didn't eat any at the restaurant so that Jessie and Vergil could take it home and share it with the boys tonight. 

I've been so very emotional today. This is normal for me on my children's birthdays. The days my children were born were the absolute most important days of my life as well as being the most profound and spiritual days of my life. 
And hardest days of my life to be truthful. I am not an easy-birther. But I think that only adds to the great joy and relief and rush of all the love hormones when those babies are finally born and I am holding them in my arms. I literally cannot think of those days without crying. 

The day Jessie was born was rainy and gray but Mr. Moon and I took a lot of walks because walking is how I deal with pain, and the magnolias were in bloom. I will always remember that. And I will also remember that there was a rainbow in the sky when she was born. 
It was so perfect. Her daddy had picked one of those magnolia blossoms and put it in a jar of water and set it on his dresser so one of the first things that baby ever smelled (if babies can smell and I know they can) was a magnolia. 

Well. Enough of that. I need to wipe my eyes and get on with it. 
Besides the birthday lunch I haven't done much. I've felt very tired for no known reason. I went to bed at a reasonable hour last night. It had been a slightly stressful evening in that there was another example of TOO MUCH NATURE. 
Maurice, who I am sure was worried that with Glen gone I might not have enough to eat, provided me with the fruits of her hunting. 
Y'all- it was bad. 
I went into the kitchen bathroom to find what I will only describe here as three separate portions of what I think was a black rat. She had butchered it for me, as a good hunter does. 
There was blood. Also organs. 

What could I do? I managed to get it all cleaned up without puking, all the while screaming, "NO, NO, NO!" which shocked Maurice who went racing from the bathroom, baffled, I'm sure, at my reaction to her noble and generous gift. 

From gecko to guts. What a day.

And then the cat had the temerity to sleep with me. 

And I let her. 

Ah me. 

Oh! And let us not forget- I absolutely must quote my Lynn who always used to say on this day of the year, "First of May, First of May. Outdoor fucking begins today."

Do with that what you will.

Love...Ms. Moon

TOO MUCH NATURE! Part 57

This gecko was in my kitchen sink when I went to get my coffee this morning. I had a tiny freak-out. As nature-girlish as I sometimes seem, I HAVE NO DESIRE WHATSOEVER TO PICK UP REPTILES WITH MY BARE HANDS. 
No. No, no, no. 

And why would this happen when Glen is out of town? 
Oh hell. Why wouldn't it? 

I'm sorry. I really am a wimp when it comes to scaly, crawly, possibly moist things. I admire them, I love to take pictures of lizards sunning in the daytime or on the screen at night. They are fascinating. I am not overly afraid of snakes unless they are venomous. Frogs and toads are very cool and incredibly interesting and also vitally important to our ecosystems. But I am not picking any of these lovely creatures up. 
I'm simply not. 
So of course I texted Glen who is, of course, in Alabama, a picture of the gecko with the word, "HELP!"  
He advised me to throw a towel on it, wrap it around the lizard, and toss it outside. 
Uh, no. I might inadvertently have touched it. 

Now you can trap a bee or a wasp with a jar and a saucer (and in fact I just did that) but what sort of device would there be that I could flatten against the curved sink that would contain the gecko? 

I sent the picture to the children too. Hank suggested that I lean a stick of some sort in the sink that would reach the top so that the little guy could climb out. I guess that although geckos can walk across a ceiling, they can't climb out of a damn sink. I knew he'd fallen in because he'd knocked a school picture of Waylon off the shelf above that had been propped up on a little bottle. 
So first I put a wooden spoon in the sink for the gecko to use as a bridge and then I found a ruler which seemed like an even better choice. But then the gecko climbed into the drain. 
By now I was ready to call Morgan, who lives next door and who is a Jefferson County Sheriff. Surely he would know what to do. But look- that's just not the right thing to do. I need to save Morgan for bigger emergencies than that by which I mean if a snake gets in the kitchen. 
Which has happened before.

So I just left the gecko and his props right where they were and then later, I ran the water into the other side of the double sink, hoping not to drown the poor creature, which made him come back up into the sink and when I got back from my walk I saw no sign of it and so it's either down the drain somewhere or free-ranging in my kitchen which is probably fine because they eat bugs but oh Lord, I do not want to see him again. 

My walk was okay. It looks like Harvey is for sure taking apart the trailer on his property. He was sitting in his chair with his back to the road so he didn't see me or if he did, he chose to ignore me and I just walked on past. I made another detour into a relatively private area to pee today, but not the one with the trail cam. This one is not in downtown Lloyd. There are planted pines and all sorts of bushes and briars so I have to be careful but a bright pink object got my attention. I thought maybe it was a piece of trash, but no! 

The blossom is pretty small and it's just as delicate as you can imagine, growing right there by itself amongst the dewberry brambles and other assorted wild things. I so wanted to dig it up and bring it home but I knew its thorns would cut me and beside that, I didn't have anything to dig with so I let it be. I'll be checking on it though to see those buds open up. 

I went to Publix this afternoon. As usual I thought I needed only a few things but of course "need" is a rather subjective word. But I didn't go too crazy. I got to see Lily because she was working in the liquor store. I asked her how she likes her new house which oddly, I don't think I've asked her since they've been staying there. She says she loves it and the way it's laid out but it will be a lot better when they get things unpacked. I have no idea how she gets anything done with a job and three children. Eventually, it will all be sorted and arranged and won't that be wonderful?

Mr. Moon called me last night at the ungodly hour of 11:42 p.m. He had forgotten that he's an hour behind me in Alabama. 
"You're pretty bold to assume I'm still awake," I said to him. 
"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry."
I told him it was alright. I was actually still awake, reading an article about Percival Everett that was published in the New Yorker.  

I had just finished my second reading of "James" and then found the article which seemed like a fine example of synchronicity. Everett is a fascinating man. I also just finished listening to his book The Trees a few hours ago. So in the last few weeks, I have read James twice with my eyes and  I Am Not Sidney Poitier and The Trees with my ears. I have a copy of his Dr. No on my vanity and I will probably crack that one open tonight. 
Yes. I am a little obsessed. 

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

Thirty-five years ago today I was in early labor with Jessie. I have been thinking about that all day long. I told her yesterday, "I know this is crazy but I wish you could have been at that birth. I mean...I know you WERE but I don't think you remember that much of it."
She laughed. She understood. 
Oh, how swiftly those thirty-five years have flown. She is a grown woman now, with two babies of her own. I don't have the words in me right now to express how grateful I am for my four births, all resulting in healthy babies who have grown up to be the joys of my life. 

I'll probably talk some more about this tomorrow. You know me. 

Now it's time to go cook some salmon for my supper. I haven't done much today but I did take that walk, I did do my shopping, and I did sit down at the piano. When I was with Lily I looked at the time and said, "Oh! I've got to go! It's almost time to play piano!" 

I even have a schedule for when Glen is gone. I'm crazy. I know it. 

Oh well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Appreciating My Life

It took me until almost 1 o'clock this afternoon to get out the door for a walk. First off, I slept until the birds were already napping again. Ooh boy. But so what? And then I had to spend some time looking at reviews of the Stones' show in Houston which were all pretty positive. It would seem that Mick's ability to move and dance and sing at the age of eighty is universally regarded as a wonder. I love that Keith appears to be recycling his stage clothes from past tours. Why not? 

When I finally started walking, an old man (and by that I mean even older than me) was pulling out of a driveway blocking the sidewalk and he didn't seem to want to pull on out and let me by. Then he rolled down his window and started talking to me. 
Oh great.
Typical old white man questioning began.
"You from around here?" "Where do you live?" "In one of those little houses?" "Oh, that Bond house? You kin to them Bonds? What was that man's name?" "You live in this area all your life?"
Why do old white men feel so entitled to answers to questions like this? Turns out he doesn't even live in Lloyd. He lives in Monticello. He does own some property here including the little house whose driveway he was in. He rents it out and told me that the last tenant destroyed it. I find this hard to imagine. She had put all sorts of plants and little fountains around the yard and made it so pretty. But, perhaps she trashed the inside. I have no idea. 
Meanwhile, the old man's hearing aid kept screeching and I think he must have had it turned way up because he was barely whispering which meant I could hardly hear what he was saying over the sound of his running truck. 
I would so much rather have an encounter with an old Black man. Here's what they generally say: "How you doing, baby?" 
At which point I melt.
Finally, I had finished the inquisition in a satisfying manner, I guess, and he introduced himself and I introduced myself and we shook hands though the window of his truck and off he went, back home to Monticello and I continued on my walk. 

I wanted to see what they've been building on Notre Dame Street so I walked down that way. I've been hearing the work going on for a few weeks now. 

Kind of a sweet little house, isn't it? At least that's what it looks like at this point. It's gone up pretty darn fast. I think they're going to put in a few more. At least they're not pre-fab.

At this point in my walk I already had to pee pretty badly which is quite a distraction for me. I'm always looking for places to duck behind trees and bushes where no one will see me and also, doesn't have so much poison ivy and briars that I'm in danger of being shredded and welted. I was in the "downtown" area of Lloyd and it's not easy to find a place there. I finally decided to take the little path I've taken before that's near the big Baptist church that leads into a sort of bamboo and wildlife jungle. I have discussed this path before and the ridiculous situation that I got myself into involving a trail cam. You can read that HERE. It is, in my opinion, one of my funniest posts. I looked for the trail cam today and it is still right there. 

I did not, however, pee in front of it. I found a different place that I checked thoroughly to make sure that I was not being videoed. 
I did laugh.

The old house that Liz, from Field And Fen said was creepy, is being painted. I agree with Liz. It is sort of creepy. The man who used to own it was definitely creepy. He's dead now so that part of the creepiness equation is done with. 

I have to say that I am truly curious as to what it looks like inside. Were the creepy old man and his wife hoarders? They had moved out of the house and were living in a modular home beside it by the time I moved here. I'm pretty sure she's dead now too. Perhaps whoever is trying to bring this place back to life is a relative. A lot of trees and bushes were taken out last year around not only the house but the modular place too. 
Well, another mystery of Lloyd.

Mr. Moon is safely in Alabama and already out on the water. I am so happy for him. Last night he completely threw me off by saying, "I just don't know what I'll be eating for dessert on this trip."
"What?" I asked. "You can buy ice cream at the store or go to a bakery and get a cake. Get some mint Milano's." 
I totally did not understand that he was asking me why I hadn't baked him cookies to take. Oh Jesus. And I would have made him some right then, if I'd had any chocolate chips, which I did not, so at nine o'clock at night I made him some chocolate/coconut/oatmeal/pecan/raisin bars.
How could I have forgotten his cookies? 

I don't even know if the damn things were edible. I wrapped them up in aluminum foil when they were still way too hot to do that but I wasn't staying up another minute. At least he knows I made the effort and that I do love him. 

As if there were any doubt about that. 

Here's Maurice, helping me weed in the garden. 

And here is a cluster of those incredibly beautiful velvety roses.

I am swooning. 

I sat down at the piano this afternoon and I enjoyed it very much but I had to abandon any thoughts of it sounding even a millionth of a way like real music. 

It was painful. But it was fun. 

Look! My beans are coming on! It's about time to get ready for canning. I am so excited.

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

One of the things I love about having taken out the Bradford pears is the fact that I get more sky-view. Every morning when I get up, I go out to the back porch and I think of Ross and I look up and I am always comforted by what I see, no matter the weather. 

We still don't know what we want to do in that space. I really think I would love a pool but the thought of having workers in my backyard for weeks and possibly months is not a happy prospect. I am notoriously bad at being able to envision things that are not there and so it's hard for me to imagine what a pool would look like in that space and what would I want surrounding it? Palm trees? A little fruit arbor? A patio of sorts with a covered area? 
I DON'T KNOW! 
I need to start looking online to find ideas. There is nothing in this world wrong with having a little dreamy dream of what is mostly a fantasy. 

I did a little more packing at Lily's today. It was truly a group effort as Jessie and Vergil were back along with Candie and her husband, and May and Michael. Lauren had to work. It was actually rather fun being with my kids, all of us repeatedly asking, "What the fuck is this?" when we'd uncover something like a rotisserie rod or a solar phone charger in a drawer or a cabinet. Candie is the leader in ruthlessness. "Throw it away!" she said, over and over. "Trash it!" Much of this happened while Lily was at the new house waiting on a plumber because of course, there was a slight plumbing problem and so we were free to use our own judgement about many things. She's at the point though where throwing things away is fine with her. 
This is all such a good lesson for all of us. "Use it or lose it," has taken on new meaning although perhaps "Lose it if you don't use it," would be a better way to put it.
I think Gibson is having a rather hard time with the move. For the past few years, his bedroom has actually been the living room of their house. They had a den where they mostly gathered, and a large dining room too. So the boy's room was enormous and not having a door didn't seem to be a problem for him. He is quite worried now that his bed is going to take up half the space in his new room. We keep trying to reassure him that he'll be fine, he'll grow to love it, and that this will help him to only hold on to the things he really wants. 
I surely hope that's true. Sweet Gibson. 
I'll tell you one thing I know for sure- none of us, especially Lily and Lauren will be sad not to have to drive down the gravel, rock, and red clay road that leads to their house. It is a torture on cars and since the big rain we had a few weeks ago, there are trenches and ruts in it that are approaching river bed dimensions. They will now have a real, true road that leads right up to their house which will be a delight. 

Mr. Moon is packing to leave for Alabama tomorrow morning and Maurice is worried, as she always is when he brings out the duffel bag and starts filling it up. 

She's been waiting for me outside the kitchen door today and following me wherever I go. It's as if she's pretty sure I'll be staying here but needs to watch carefully to make sure. Poor baby. Mr. Moon is her human and although she likes me okay, he is the one that represents safety and security for her. 

I know how she feels. 

I, for one, am very glad that my husband is going to get away for a few days of fishing and recreating with his fellas. My god, but he needs that and deserves it. I am sending him away whole-heartedly and even told him a few minutes ago to take his time because a few days by myself is just what I need. "The piano has been calling me," I told him. "It wants me to play it."
I am remembering last year, when Mr. Moon went on this trip. He'd just had a procedure to get a needle biopsy of a lump in his leg and he went immediately from that to jumping in his truck, even though his leg was leaking all sorts of fluids. He tied a bandana around his calf and took off north.
He's gotten oysters to take with him as that's become part of the routine of the trip. The men eat them raw and they eat them grilled and for all I know, they make Oysters Rockefeller too. Whatever. Oysters must be involved. 

I'll probably be doing more to help Lily while he's gone. There's still a lot to do although today the guys got the big things moved. The beds and the sofa and dining table all went over yesterday and today the refrigerator and credenza and some other very heavy things have been put into their new places. By the way- Lily did buy that white, round oak table at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thrift Store and it's already on their new beautiful back porch. That makes me happy. 

And so it's been another Sunday and one in which I got to see most of my children and all of my grandchildren. Owen hugged me and I kissed him on the cheek while Levon was in the kitchen with us and I said, "See Levon, Owen hugs me and let's me kiss him," and he said, "Ugh." 
Owen said, "You won't hug MerMer?" Levon just made a face and went outside. He's his own man, that one and I respect that and I love him so.

I imagine the Rolling Stones are all backstage at the Houston NRG stadium, whatever that is, doing their ancient backstage rituals and waiting for that magical moment when they are announced. 
Oh, how I wish I could be there and yet...

Will they begin with "Start Me Up?"
I sort of hope so. 

It makes me happy to think of the Old Boys taking the stage once again, doing what they do, what they invented, what they they do and have done for sixty years, better than anyone else. 

"Start Me Up," Mick sings. "Start me up and I'll never stop, never stop, never stop."

That's a promise that has been well kept. 

I better go make some supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Letting Go And Moving On

So who remembers this? My Lord. I made that little duck for Owen when he was a very young thing. It was sort of supposed to be a baby chick but the feet rather betray the true species of the little creature, don't they? He's the softest thing, made from an old cashmere sweater that had shrunken into baby size. Jessie found it today when she was cleaning and packing one of the kids' rooms in the move. None of the kids were very invested in it and so she was going to keep it but then she told me that I should keep it with my dolls and so I shall. 
Little Quackie. 

Yes. Today is the day. And this move is not going to go easily or quickly. They are spending the night in the new house tonight and the beds are either moved or are being moved. This is not easy at all for either Lily or Lauren or the kids. Lily and Lauren are excited to have a new house but the whole process of finding the house and getting it ready to move into and now making the actual move has been and is just ridiculously difficult. And the kids? Well, their rooms in the new house are not quite as big as the ones they have now and for the most part, the house where they've been living is the only one they've ever known. Owen may remember the duplex that they lived in when he was born but I doubt that Gibson does because he was so young when they moved and Maggie was literally born in that house. 

Of course it's always this way when a family moves. Even if it's a good thing, there are going to be negative aspects of changing locations and it's just so damn hard, packing up a life, deciding what to take and what to let go. It's emotional as hell. 

I was there for about three hours this afternoon and in all that time, I only cleaned out and dealt with two large bookcases. There are now many, many books in my car and in Jessie's to donate. I saved back a few children's books and stopped on my way home to put most of them in the little free library down the street. 

My husband got home about 12:30 last night. He hadn't been kidding about me not waiting up for him. So he'd worked 18 hours. This morning, he and Vergil met up at the new house and finished up what Glen's been working on and then, amazingly, he came home. As his daddy used to say, he'd done all he was big enough to do. 
I am so glad he knew when it was time to stop although honestly, it was probably time for him to stop about last Tuesday. 

Oh well. He is alive and sitting in his chair and finally resting. 
I felt guilty leaving Vergil and Jessie and Lily and Lauren to come home myself but I am playing the old lady card. Owen is helping a lot and Gibson is helping too. August is being as helpful as he can be and Levon and Maggie are mostly staying out of the way although the temptation to play with forgotten and rediscovered toys is huge. 

Being a part of this has given me even more impetus to get rid of things myself. I was telling Mr. Moon the other day that we really need to clean off the refrigerator. I have pictures hanging on it that Owen made me before he could really write his name. 
He is fourteen now. 
I have a TELEPHONE LIST on it. Written in beautiful cursive which I used to be good at. 

And of course, that is just one tiny area of my kitchen, my house, my life that I need to declutter. 

Change is hard. Always. But we manage, usually, to push on through and we survive. Lily will too. She is so much stronger than she realizes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Miracles And A Hymn Here At The Church Of The Batshit Crazy On A Friday Night

My left eye felt like something was in it all day yesterday. And it was sort of red and felt irritated but I couldn't see anything in it. Isn't it odd that we use the very organ to look at what we are trying to inspect on ourselves? That doesn't make a whole lot of sense but if you think about it, it does.

The point of this being, last night I kept waking up and my eye felt way more irritated and I worried about it in an irrational manner as one does when one wakes up in those deep, somehow liquid hours of the night when neither time nor thoughts flow as they should. When I got up (late) I looked in the mirror which I generally avoid doing as much as possible and I looked positively demonic. Not only were both of my eyes red, but my eyebrows, which would be more appropriate on the face of an ancient old man of the forest, were sticking all up. I'm not kidding. I scared myself. So I pruned those bad boys above my eyes and decided to just see what happened with my eyes and by golly, one of them isn't red at all anymore and the other one looks much better. The irritated feeling has mostly gone away although the one that's still red feels a little itchy. So I don't know what's going on. Gibson did have conjunctivitis a few weeks ago but I wasn't around him and besides that, I don't get all up in the grandchildren's eyes. So maybe it's allergies or maybe I did have a little something in my eye or maybe I do have an eyeball melanoma which was the main thing I was worried about at three in the morning. 

Friday. It's Friday. I've had a very hard time just enjoying that fact and I'm blaming it on my husband who was at Lowe's at six o'clock this morning and who has worked all day long at Lily's house and who also managed to renew all our license tags for boats, cars, trucks, and trailers, AND finish the process to get his dealer's license WHICH HE NOW HAS! 
So knowing all of that, it was hard for me to just be lazy and enjoy myself although I mostly fought through that guilt. Sort of. There is no such thing as "guilt-free" in my world. 
And no, he is not home yet and I doubt he will be for many long hours. Good thing I can make my own martini.

I had a sort of, if not epiphany, then stark realization this morning when I was reading Ellen's blog post HERE. 
Ellen is the only person I know in our blog community who has a sort of similar life to mine when it comes to yard maintenance. She does a much better job of it and spends more time doing it than I do, but when she talks about hauling branches to the burn pile I know exactly what she's talking about.
So my realization is that I don't know if I really WANT to spend the rest of whatever life I have digging up crocosmia and border grass. This does not mean that I don't want this yard and this house. I very much do. But I somehow need to get help. My old pal who owns the landscaping company did not come by and I think I should call him and actually pay him to give me advice and suggestions for people to help me. Right now I feel completely overwhelmed, not only by the regular stuff taking over every square inch of this little place that it can, but also by the fact that since we got the Bradford pears cut down, every stinking damn one of their roots and stumps are sprouting new trees. When I tell you that my backyard looks like a fucking Bradford pear tree farm, I am not exaggerating. And Mr. Moon has not had the time to mow them down.  
This is almost terrifying. 

And when I went out this afternoon to get the laundry off the line and take a picture of the confederate jasmine, I saw this:

Obviously, the bamboo is not done with me yet. So I kicked all that I saw. 
The jasmine I went to take a picture of is also an over-grower, as we might kindly say, meaning it takes over everything it can get its little tendrils on. Why did I plant this shit? 

Yes. Yes I do always have dirt under my fingernails. 
Doesn't the jasmine look so sweet and innocent? Well, if you had one single strand of it, that would be fine, but when you have a wall of it, or several walls of it, which is what happens when you plant it on a fence, the scent becomes so overpowering that it's like living in one of those shops I talked about the other day. That's probably what my eyeball is allergic to.

Ugh.

I went out to the garden just to check things out. The acorn squash is really coming along. 

Is that an acorn squash? 
The potatoes are looking droopy and are turning yellow and I keep telling Mr. Moon to reach into one of those bags to see if he has any potatoes because in my experience, when the plants start dying back, it's time to dig. He says it's not time and that he doesn't want to feel around in the dirt because it would "upset their life-style" which cracked me up so much. Don't tell him but I stuck my fingers in one of the bags today (thus the dirt under my fingernails) and felt a potato that may be as big as a baseball. They're supposed to bloom before you dig the potatoes but again, I've had years when that just didn't happen and I have no idea why. 

After being outside for about twenty minutes, I had almost died from the heat so I came back in. I simply cannot tolerate the heat and humidity any more. I sweat like a blacksmith in August. In hell. 

Lord, Lord. I sure am making myself sound attractive, aren't I? First with the eyebrows and red eyes, then the dirty fingernails, and now the sweat. Well guess what? I am NOT attractive. Not even remotely. 

Here is today's winning photo. 

No, it is not a lizard with multiple sets of rabbit ears, it is an anole eating a winged insect. 

All right. Many of us fight going gently into that good night with various and disparate means. We can rail against the ravages of time, we can deny, deny, deny. We can do all the right dietary/supplement/physical activity things. We can get surgery to try and undo what time has written across our faces, our bodies. We can stay engaged and active, do crosswords and learn new languages. We can yoga and we can tai chi. Some of these things may extend our years a bit, some may make us feel, if only for a moment or so, the way we did when we were young and juicy and full of it all. 

For me, I sometimes get those moments in a dream and they are potent and powerful. And sometimes, all I have to do is go to YouTube. 

That was the Rolling Stones in 1995 at the Tokyo Dome. Keith and Mick were "only" about fifty-two then and people had been asking how long they thought they could keep this act going since they were  twenty-five. 

I came across this video via a FB post today and I don't think I've ever seen it. I seriously doubt that many of you will watch it and that is A-OK. I know I'm a little crazy about those old boys. Especially Keith. And he does shine in this video. (Go to 7:13 if you don't want to watch the whole thing.) But what I love the most about it, is the pure joy that you can see on the performer's faces. The absolute dedication to what they do and why they do it. The genuine affection they have for each other. And of course, I love the audience's reaction when Charlie Watts is introduced. 

In two days, those old boys will be opening their summer 2024 tour in Houston. 

Just knowing this is a tonic to me. They aren't a nostalgia band. They are a working rock and roll band. And I truly believe what I've heard Keith say in many interviews which is that with each performance, they are trying to make it better, play it better, be better. 

Well. Mr. Moon just called and he said that not only should I not wait supper on him, but that I shouldn't wait going to bed on him either. 
Oh dear god. And he's still lighthearted sounding. His joy in doing what he's doing for his family is not unlike Keith Richards' joy in doing what he's doing with his band. 
Another reason I love that man.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon