C'est La Vie, Say The Old Folks

As you can see, I did manage to thaw the turkey completely and it is now in a bowl, salt having been rubbed into its wounds skin, and before I go to bed I'll turn it over so that the magic can happen on the other side of the bird too. It's supposed to be on a rack in a roasting pan but that would have just taken up too much space so the bowl will have to do. To the right of the turkey is the stock I made with giblets, onions, spices and Better Than Bouillon which will go into the gravy. 
In the plastic container with a red lid down there on the bottom shelf, we have an impressive amount of angel biscuit dough. The flavor improves as it sits. Trust me. 
And the cranberry relish is in the covered bowl on the bottom right.
I have made the cornbread for the stuffing/dressing and that is on top of the stove right now, drying out a bit. I did something with that I've never done before, which was to sauté onions, pecans, and celery which I added into the cornbread batter before I baked it. 

It looks more like a spice cake than it does a cornbread but I think it's going to work. I also use Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix along with the cornbread and feel no shame about this. Just as it would not be Thanksgiving without the canned cranberry gel/sauce for many people, it would not be Thanksgiving for me without the Pepperidge Farm in the blue and white bag. The stuffing has always been my favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal, bar none, and as Boud says about getting the first slice of something she's baked, it's "cook's privilege" in my opinion that if I make the stuffing, I get to pick the kind I make. My kids would probably not to know what to do with stuffing not made at least partly with Pepperidge Farm. 

Mr. Moon is still at the cabin. He's been soldering the pipes in the bathroom in order to be able to take a shower downstairs. 

Is there anything this man can not do? 

He'll be back tomorrow in time to help set up the tables and so forth. I will admit that I had one of those dreams this morning of him leaving me for another woman. I am not sure who this woman was but she was not the black-haired, truck-driving bitch. We were in Europe and so perhaps it was a French woman. She probably looked like Uma Thurman with black hair and red lipstick and Louboutin heels. 

I do have a vivid imagination, don't I? 

Hey! I cleaned the toilets today! Would Uma Thurman clean the toilets? 
Probably not. At least not in her Louboutin heels. 

I may need therapy. 
Also, I may be the one with a crush on Uma Thurman. I will never, ever not watch this if it comes up on any social media. You shouldn't either. And I'm not even going to say how much I love movies in which John Travolta dances. 
Well, most of them but maybe this one the most. 

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. Rock it like Chuck Berry. Dance it like Marilyn Monroe is holding a trophy waiting for you to claim it and John Travolta has taken off his shoes and is dancing in his Gold Toe socks just for you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Truth About Turkeys

They lie, they lie, they LIE! Look at the thawing instructions on that turkey. Does it not say that a thirteen to sixteen pound turkey will thaw in the refrigerator in 3-4 days? That turkey weighs 13.51 pounds and it has been in a refrigerator since last Wednesday which means it's been six days since the supposed thawing process began and by god that bird is still mostly frozen. And no, it's not the refrigerator. It is set at a normal temperature. This happens every year. Every year of my life it has happened. 
Three to four days my ass. 

I retrieved it from the garage this afternoon because I wanted to start the dry brine. Maybe. But I don't think you can dry brine a damn block of turkey ice. I'll leave it out on the counter until I go to bed although that is against all the safety rules (bite me) and see how it's going tomorrow. 

I'd say I'm sorry I'm being so profane tonight but I'm not sorry and I'd rather be profane than lie. I'm not sure why the cusses are coming out so abundantly but they are. Besides, I've been fairly mild in my language lately and I don't want to lose my abilities in that area. 

Lily called me this morning. God bless her, the first thing she said is, "This is not an emergency!" Phew. She knows me. 
The not-emergency was that their main refrigerator is broken and they don't have an ice maker hooked up and I think something else may be broken but I'm sure the washer is and she says there's laundry all over the place and maybe, just maybe, having Thanksgiving at her house isn't the best idea this year and (tiny voice) would I mind if we moved it here?
I do believe this has happened before. And you know what? This house was made to be a family-gathering house and that's all there is to it so of course I don't mind although I did set a few guidelines, mostly involving people baking their casseroles before they get here because that last hour oven-shuffle situation drives me nuts. And the really good news is that now I don't have to transport all the stuff I'm making over to Lily and Lauren's house. 

All I really have to do that I wouldn't be doing anyway is to clear the spaces we'll need to use like kitchen counters and tables. I'll just throw all that stuff in a closet and it'll be groovy. And to warn people where not to walk because they'll fall through the floor. 
Sigh.

I did what I do believe was my final shopping (for Thanksgiving, at least) today and I have to say that Costco was far, far less crowded and crazy than it was a week ago. I have no idea why. All I needed there was some smoked salmon and butter and some vegetable Better Than Bouillon. I know I've mentioned the Better Than Bouillon products before but if you've forgotten, this shit is the best. Never buy a carton of chicken stock or beef stock or veggie stock again. Of course I still make my own stock for a lot of things but adding the BTB to it just brings it all to a much higher level. 

I highly recommend this product and of course, as always, I am not making a penny off of this recommendation. 
Sigh. I wish.

I also went to Publix for a few last-minute items and that wasn't very stressful either. So...YAY! 

After I got home and before I even unloaded the groceries, I cleaned out the refrigerator for much-needed space. I didn't clean it, I just cleaned out the stuff you don't throw out because, well, gee, maybe it's still good. It smells okay. It looks okay. There is a slight chance, at least, that we'll eat it. If we were starving we would eat it. Right? 
I was merciless. Begone, you poor containers of if not mysterious than at least questionable leftovers and jars with 1/4 inch of something in them. 
And now I have plenty of room for all the things. Stuffing and turkey and cranberry relish and pies and angel biscuit dough. 

And one more pecan pie, this one pure and unsullied by chocolate. 

I got past whatever was holding me back yesterday and cranked out what I think will be a fine pie. If I were a true southern lady cook, I would have arranged those pecans in a pleasing pattern but I guess I'm not because I didn't. I did, however, turn most of them right side up. Not all. But enough to show I care.

That's a picture of the garden right now. I need to get in there and clear out the dead marigolds and basils. We may get rain tomorrow and I know that every creature and plant is hoping for that to be so. I just heard some frogs croaking and I want to believe they know something the rest of us don't. 

Meanwhile...

Really, Maurice? The old, soft jeans I understand but is it really that comfortable to cuddle up to a pincushion? 

And on top of the scissors? 
I guess it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I dropped by May's work today because I just really, really needed to hug her. I am so glad I did. It was heaven and she is an angel. 

Laginappe

Well, as so often happens, a reader educated me tonight. The Oak Island of treasure hunting fame is off the coast of Nova Scotia, not North Carolina. 
Sheesh. 
I'm going to bed. 

Take A Breath

I should have tried to get a more cheerful photo today of Maggie and Levon and also one that August's entire self is in. I suppose I thought I'd get more before the visit was over but forgot. Magnolia had a sleep-over with the boys last night and according to Jessie all went quite well until this morning when the kids were jumping on the trampoline and tossing about a frozen water balloon which Levon accidentally hit Maggie in the head with which made her cry. The drama of the episode was still being maintained when they got here for a little visit and a frozen pizza lunch, and she was not happy about anything, really. Jessie told the kids that no, they could not look at Maggie's phone but instead needed to play with real things and none of them were especially happy about this. I was remembering the last time the three of them were here and the very cool things they made with the Lincoln Logs and how the four of us sat on the little love seat in the library and I read them a book and then we all read another book, taking turns with each page. I was thinking this visit would be just like that but of course, no, things happen, things change, and mostly I believe they were all tired, probably from staying up too late talking. 
Ah well. Kiddos. 
The boys loved the frozen pizza but Ms. Magnolia informed us that she hated pepperoni and even when I offered to take it off of part of the pizza before I baked it, she said she didn't want it. I offered to make her some cheesy macaroni which she usually jumps on but no, that didn't sound good either. 
Eggs? Ever since she was a little one she has asked me to scramble her eggs. But again, no. 
I had a piece of leftover snapper from last night and told her I'd heat that up for her. She always asks for fish when she spends the night here but today she turned it down.
Oh well. I'm sure she ate when she got home.

Jessie brought me the boys' school pictures which I immediately stuck on the refrigerator. 

Mitchell, I swear- if you ever came to visit me, I would take each and every single thing off the refrigerator before you got here. You would go insane if you saw it the way it is now. 
And after you left, I'd probably put most of it back. 

It was great to catch up with Jessie. They're leaving on Wednesday to go to Oak Island, off the coast of North Carolina, to meet with Vergil's family. I did mention this before but I wasn't sure where they were going. I just sent Jessie a link to the Wikipedia page about the curse of Oak Island and the TV show they made out of two treasure hunters looking for legendary buried riches. 
Spoiler Alert- they didn't find them. 
Which of course means the treasure is still out there to be found! Perhaps the Weatherfords will find it. Wouldn't that be awesome? Nothing like the possibility of finding buried treasure in my book. 

When they were all leaving, I gave the kids a bye-bye treat which was five M&M's apiece. Bizarrely, not one of them complained about the paltry offering but just kissed me and said thank you. Well, I sort of had to make Levon kiss me but not in an icky way. More like in a "Give me a kiss, kid!" way whereupon we barely touched lips which was fine. Maggie even gave me an unasked for hug. Perhaps she was relieved to be going home. Adventures are great, but home is best. 

And right after they left, Mr. Moon left too. He's gone up to the cabin to do...stuff. They're going to deliver the metal for the new roof tomorrow and he needs to do something to the sheet rock before it gets painted and hell, I don't know. He tells me. I try to listen. I'm not very successful. I packed him some frozen chicken stew and a sort of Mexican pork stew along with a pork chop supper meal on a plate, leftover from Saturday night when Gibson slept over. So he won't starve. 
The man got back from Canada a week ago yesterday and is already off again. He'll be back on Wednesday though, in time for Thanksgiving. While he was home he got all the bills paid and dealt with all the things I don't deal with when it comes to finances and...whatever he does and I really should know more about that. He and I both washed a lot of his clothes, he got some good meals, he received and gave many, many hugs and kisses, he spent some time in his chair with his cat on his lap, he took two grandsons to a basketball game, he checked on Tom, he did something with his trail cameras where he hunts, he took a different grandson hunting and to breakfast, and cleaned up the kitchen after I cooked at least three times. 
Where the hell does he get his energy, his passion for life? I wish I had a little more of those things myself. 

I was going to make a plain pecan pie this afternoon and even got out the recipe and took the butter out of the refrigerator and did the math on making one pie's worth of pastry dough but I just couldn't make myself do it. I have no idea why. 

But I did some mending/patching of my old, old Levis. 

I hadn't hit my stride there yet but the patch will hold. 

And this tiny one, which I love. 

That's a piece of the flannel I used for a blanket for Maggie, I think. Who can remember? 

I discovered today that Maggie may be taller at the age of nine than either of her brothers were. Also, that her hands are the same size as mine. I have proof that when her mother was eleven, her hands were as big as mine and we thought that was pretty remarkable. 

That's a ceramic handprint plaque that she made me when she was in whatever grade you are when you're eleven. 

My hands look sort of beat up, don't they? 
Well, that's because they are. 

I guess I'll go cook an eggplant. I do have leftovers in the refrigerator but I don't want any of them. Not sure I want eggplant either but its days as a viable food source are dwindling. 

Tomorrow I absolutely have to go to Costco and to Publix. Wish me luck. I'll check in tomorrow if I survive. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Deep And Shallow Thoughts As Well As Uncombable Hair Syndrome

I tried to take a picture of a little green anole on my porch table lamp this morning but the little guy would not stay still while Maurice had no problem with that. You know I've had a pretty unexciting day when the only picture I take is of the cat. 
See those two different sweaters on the chair? This sort of sums up how the weather's been here lately. When I get up, a nice cashmere cardigan is the way to go and by ten o'clock, I have to take that off and perhaps put on a lightweight cotton sweater-like garment and by eleven, I've shed that too. I was literally sweating this afternoon while I was sitting and doing some mending on the back porch where it was 82 degrees. It's only supposed to get up to 78 degrees tomorrow so- whoo-hoo! Glen suggested we go swimming today. I wasn't that interested but I am certain there were people who were down at the Wacissa, enjoying the water on this unseasonably warm Sunday. 
The draught continues. We got a spit of rain yesterday, not even enough to dampen a leaf, and the sky looked bruised and filled with the potential for a storm but it was a false and teasing promise. Supposedly, it may rain on Wednesday and then possibly the temperatures will drop to a more comfortable range. 

Fascinating, Ms. Moon! Tell us more, please!
No. I will not. I refuse. That's all the weather discussion you're getting from me today.

That picture was taken eight years ago, according to Facebook. Those were the days when we thought perhaps August had Uncombable Hair Syndrome which is really a true thing. 

Either that or he was running on a stronger electric current than most of the rest of us mere mortals. That was Thanksgiving Day and he had just woken up from a nap. We could not help laughing (in the most loving way possible, of course) and I'm sure he was confused about why he was suddenly the subject of our unwanted attentions. We still talk about August's hair on that day. It is now one of the most cherished of family legends. Every family has these and hopefully, they are the kind that make us laugh. Fond memories. And I'm pretty sure that every family has certain words and phrases that came from a young'un's mispronunciation or misuse of a word or two or else were just so honest and heartfelt that we've all adopted them and use them, decades after they were first said. These are some of the tender stitches that hold a family together. Our own private jokes and memories, still remembered, still cherished, still in use.

Marriages can have these private memories too that make us laugh together, take us back to times and days when our love was new and fresh or even well-seasoned and mature. Things we experienced together that still have a lot of meaning for us, indicating that those experiences were important somehow, even if we didn't quite know it at the time. 

The other side of all of this, of course, is that we all have memories of times and things that bring us pain to remember. That we shy away from taking out of their dark drawers in the hidden places of our hearts. That we mostly do not talk about. And whether this is healthy or unhealthy, I do not know. Some would say it is best to let the dead bury their dead but sometimes, it is freeing to admit the pain, to name it, to bring it into the light to take away its power. 

Well, as usual, none of this is what I sat down to write. It's been a fine Sunday here in Lloyd. No ducks were killed in the making of that adventure but the he-man breakfast was enjoyed. I just wandered about doing the little things here and there which was fine with me. And now I'm going to go cook some red snapper and probably grits and a salad with avocados and tomatoes and onions. 
Gibson enjoyed last night's supper, I think, even the delicata squash, baked with apples and raisins. If you've never tried a delicata squash, please do. They are so creamy and so sweet and so...delicate...you can eat the skin and definitely should. 

A question- I am thinking about doing a dry brine on my turkey this year. Have any of y'all done that, and if so, is it worth the effort? I've always just sort of thrown that bird in the oven after I've stuffed it and baste it now and then. I'd like any informed thoughts on the matter you may have. 

Thanks. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Day Of Seeing Dear Ones

It really has been a very nice day. I got a text from Liz Sparks (how many Liz's can one lucky girl have?) this morning asking if it would be a good time to come out for a porch visit? We hadn't seen each other since last spring, I guess, when she was getting ready for a summer of journeys, first to England for a family wedding and then across the US to visit family and friends and friend-families and see some sites and take some hikes and do all the things that Liz does which is A LOT! 
Also, because she is smart, she scoots out of Tallahassee before the stupefying heat of summer falls upon us, rendering us all  sweat-soaked, miserable, and no good for anything that doesn't involve a cold river. 
It WAS a good time for a porch visit. I had absolutely nothing planned. And it was so good to see Liz at my door. It was a little after noon and I was hungry. I asked her if she wanted to go to the Hilltop for some lunch and she said she did and so off we went. It is not very far at all from my house to the Hilltop. 
We got our lunches and brought them back here because the tables out back were filled with other folks eating their lunches. We did indeed sit on the back porch and caught up with each other. She told me about her travels and how, at the end of month three she was really ready to come home but her house was rented out for that next month and it was still way too hot here and she traveled on. She told me that after driving days and days and days across states that were flat and treeless and barren of people, she yearned for green trees with Spanish moss in them and most of all- Wakulla Springs. 
She also missed her Tallahassee people. And she has a lot of them. 
I will tell you this- we are richer here when she is home than when she is not. 
I feel so comfortable with her. She's just one of those people. They are few and far between. They are rare and they are precious. And that is a good description of Liz. 

It was decided this morning that Gibson would be spending the night with us. Duck hunting season begins tomorrow and so Mr. Moon will be getting up in the very, very dark to go out to wherever it is he duck hunts and Gibson wanted to go with him. So it just made sense for him to come stay here tonight. 
And guess what? 
Owen drove him out. 
Oh my sweet Jesus. Owen's first trip to Lloyd, driving himself. 
Maggie came too but she wasn't in the mood to get out of the car. She was going to the park to play after she and Owen left here and she claimed she needed to "save her energy."
By this she meant, "play a game on her phone."
Oh sigh. 

All right. Look at this.

My tall guys! Owen isn't the only one getting taller at a ridiculous rate. Gibson is well on his way to joining the Moon Gene Club. 
And I made Glen take this.

I look like a little old hunchbacked lady but whatever. Those boys make me feel tiny. And come on- I am not THAT short. About 5'4" which is fairly average for a woman, or at least was back when I was born when the dinosaurs were busy inventing dirt. 

Before Owen left, we all went out to the car and made Maggie get out and visit with us for a little while and give us some Maggie hugs. She was pretty amenable about that and reminded her Boppy that SHE wants to go fishing with him soon and it would make sense to her to spend the night like Gibson is tonight, and then get up the next morning to go out on the water. 
I agree. It's funny that her mother and her Aunt Jessie also love to fish with Mr. Moon as does Mr. Moon's sister, Brenda. His sister Dee Ann loved it just as much before she left us way, way too early. So that will have to happen. 

Before Owen and Maggie left, Owen opened the trunk for Maggie to get her doll out to get ready to go to the park with her. 

I love so much that Maggie still plays with dolls which, to my mind, sort of offsets the games on her phone. 
"I treat her like she's a real person," said Maggie. I told her I completely understood that and that in fact, when her Boppy is out of town, I sometimes bring one of my dolls into bed with me. 
She looked at me with disbelief. "What?!"
"I do," I said. "She brings me comfort."
I am sure the child thinks I am insane but that's nothing new. One minute I'm telling her I don't believe god is real and the next I'm telling her I sleep with a doll sometimes. 
And you know what? These are the types of things I hope she remembers about me. I really do. Well, those and my ability to make the best pancakes. 

Speaking of which, poor Gibson will get no pancake breakfast from me tomorrow. He and Glen will eat some sort of sausage biscuit when they get to the duck place and afterwards, all the hunters will go out and have a real he-man breakfast after which they may sleep the rest of the day. Well, at least the older guys. 

Several of you have said that Mr. Moon is beginning to look like Santa Claus. To this I say that to me, he looks like the Greek god of the sea, Poseidon. 

Yep. There's a true resemblance there. 

And here we are together.

Amphitrite and Poseidon. 

Although I suppose that if we had to be Mr. and Mrs. Claus, it would not be so bad.

But you know, I do hate Christmas and I do love the sea so... 

Also, Mr. Moon hasn't got a tenth of those wrinkles. 
So...

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday Night

The blooming Christmas/Thanksgiving cactus I bought is bringing so much color and life to my laundry room. I'm glad I bought it. I wonder what it will look like by this time next year after I've had time to put my succulent curse on it. For now though, I am just enjoying it. 

My appointment with Zorn went fine. I just spent about an hour writing about it and the discussions we had but I've deleted all that. We know I'm a fan girl of the young and brilliant and funny doctor. No need to do a blow-by-blow of the entire thing. 
I will say that he gave me two referrals, one for a different dermatologist and one to get a second opinion about my kidney stones. Turns out there are options for retrieving or removing them and I'd like to hear about that. 
He showed me pictures of his kids and when he got to the baby girl, I lost it. She was the prettiest little thing you ever did see.
"Oh!" I said. "Will you give her to me?"
Rather unbelievably, he won't. 

I have another appointment in six months because this is how he does it. 

Oh. I forgot to say that when he had done his magic trick of getting me up on the exam table before I knew I was even headed in that direction, he took my blood pressure himself with the sphygmomanometer that lives on the wall instead of the portable device the tech uses at the beginning of the appointment that they strap around your arm and hit a button, and which always indicates I should probably be in an ambulance on my way to the hospital, and when he was done he said, "Your blood pressure is fine."
I've never had a physician whom I've felt so comfortable with. 

There is a good chance that this man will be the one to take care of me unto death. I hope so.

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

Meanwhile, here's a picture of not only Mr. Moon and Levon at the basketball game, but Vergil and August too. 

The boys have been on the Jumbotron twice already and I bet they are thrilled. What could be better? Plus, popcorn for supper. 

One more picture of the blooming cactus.
We're ready for your close-up, Ms. Succulent. Look this way. Hold it. Hold it. 

Click! 

Perfect! 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Too Tired To Come Up With A Title

This is a picture I took at the bookstore in Apalachicola when I was there with my girls almost two weeks ago. I have talked about this bookstore so many times and how much I love going there. It was actually a book and needlework store, selling books, of course ranging from literary best sellers to kid books to books about local history, along with very fine yarns and needles and other cool things which I could never pass up buying at least a tiny bit of. The owner was a lady about my age I guess, and over the years we developed a sort of affection for each other. The last time I was there, she too had discovered visible mending and we nattered on about that for quite a while as we'd both been enjoying doing it. And of course she had books on the subject. Beautiful books. We always discussed books, too. 
So when I went in the store with Terry, expecting to see my friend behind the counter and instead there was a youngish guy showing great exuberance and the store looked completely different and the wools and needles were gone, I felt devastated. I was almost afraid to ask what had happened. But I did. Turns out Young Guy had bought the bookstore and so he was the new owner and when I asked about the yarns, he said they were being sold next door at the art gallery. 
Well, shit. 
We went over there and again- no sign of the longtime owner of Downtown Books and Purl. 

I guess she just got tired and I hope she got a great offer. I wish I could have said good-bye to her, though. I bet she has no idea how much I loved visiting her and buying books and fondling all the soft wool and buying some of that too. It was always a highlight of any trip to Apalach. 

Today has been about doing a little Thanksgiving preparation. I made the cranberry relish which is so easy and is all done in the food processor. 

Raw cranberries, an orange, an apple, pecans, sugar, and a little salt. Mix it all together and keep it in the refrigerator for a week or so, stirring it daily. 
I also made two chocolate pecan pies, one for Thanksgiving, one for Lauren's birthday which is coming up soon. I'll freeze both of them and take the Thanksgiving one out next Wednesday. Lauren told Lily that she wanted that pie for her birthday dessert and I was happy to make her one. It truly is one of the richest pies ever to be made. 

I don't even want to tell you what all's in it but I will say that not having had more than a bite or two since May of anything even resembling that, I'd probably die if I ate an entire piece. Even a small one. Of course whipped cream must be involved. But I'm happy with how the pies turned out. The pastry seemed a little weird but it stayed together for the most part and I think it's fine. 

One would think that just doing those two things wouldn't be much of a difficulty but I am pretty tired now. I'm not as spry as I used to be. I look back at all of the many, many Thanksgiving meals I made mostly by myself for god knows how many people and I have no idea how I did it. I do know that there were times when by the time the food had been served to the masses, all I wanted to do was sit on the back steps with a bottle of rum, sipping and crying until I could bring myself to go eat something too. 
This is not an exaggeration. 
But this year won't be like that. I've done two of the things I'm going to bring and the angel biscuits (or rolls, I haven't really made up my mind about this), as well as the turkey and stuffing will all be made on the day although I'll probably get the giblets out of the turkey the night before to make stock with and oh yes, of course there will be the gravy to make and the cream to whip and I'll need to make the cornbread the night before Thanksgiving to make the stuffing with. 
But that is it! I swear!
Sigh. 

We had a visitor a little while ago. The dog from next door showed up as she had done once before. This is the world's friendliest dog but I take it she likes to roam. She came right in the cat door and I welcomed her in and she did a little exploring, tried to eat all the cat food, and had some big slurps of the cat water. 

I called her owner but she hasn't called back yet and Glen actually put the dog back outside. "But, but, Caroline hasn't called me back!" I said. 
"She will. She's been out calling for her. I heard her. Don't worry!"
What? On top of that cluster fuck, Maurice took one look at this poor sweet pooch, spit, hissed, and instead of running away, followed her into the kitchen. A minute later, Maurice jumped with all four paws ON the dog and tried to kill her I guess, and so that's why the dog is outside and also why there was some blood in my hallway. I was indeed impressed with Maurice's bravery, even if I did not condone her attack. That cat did not stand on her hind legs and mess around with her front paws, she gave it the full five means of attack all in one go. Twenty claw-talons and all her teeth. 
Oh god. 

Tomorrow I see Dr. Z. at 10:30 so I am a bit of an emotional wreck although I have experienced worse pre-appointment anxiety. I hope he and I can have a nice little chat about his five children or politics or whatever. The man loves to talk which calms and soothes me, I have to admit. 
I really love seeing him, I just wish the visit didn't involve blood pressure cuffs and scales and exam tables and stuff like that. Couldn't we just go get coffee? I could draw clock faces and identify rhinos and tigers just as well at a coffee shop as I can in that office of his. I'm not actually sure if this is one of those cognition test appointments or not which is probably a slightly disturbing sign that I need one. 

Well, by this time tomorrow the appointment will be long past me and we'll be enjoying our martinis and there will be clean sheets on the bed. 
God I love routine and ritual, especially the Friday ones. I hold on to them like a drowning woman holding on to the side of the lifeboat until her fingernails bleed. 
Really.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I was just informed there's a basketball game tomorrow evening and Mr. Moon will be taking Levon. Levon told me about this during our phone call the other day but he wasn't sure when the game was. 
So. Forget my routine with my husband. But as we all know, I am becoming quite adept at making my own martinis which is really not that hard. I will struggle on alone.