Tender

The Dark Knight was showing at the same theater where we went to see Moonrise Kingdom and sure enough, people were buying tickets for it.

I can't read the reports of the massacre which occurred in Denver last night. I just can't.
What good does it do?
Young man has a gun, uses it on people.
Death. Blood. Mayhem.

I can't. I just can't.

I can talk about Moonrise Kingdom.
It was a precious movie. And I don't mean precious in that way that means twee or overly sweet or any of that shit. It was just precious.
It was about love. It was about how love can save you. I think.
I cried at the end and I'm not sure it was a crying-at-the-end sort of movie. But I couldn't help it.
I'm going to go see it again. I feel like I missed about two-thirds of it at least. There were so many levels to study and mostly I was just enjoying it on the level of enjoying it. I was enjoying the visual gorgeousness of it and the music and the faces of the actors, especially the little boy who played Sam. I think that Wes Anderson must love faces as much as I do.

Well. If you haven't seen it, I would say go.

After we watched the movie, Liz and I went and had coffee and talked.
Oh god, it was so good.
I met this Liz at the Birth Center when I started working there in about 1987. I fell in love IMMEDIATELY and probably sooner. We've been through a lot together. She was with me when I had Jessie. She's enlightened. I told her that today. I doubt she believed me but she is.
You know how some people just say YES to life? Well, that's Liz.
Let me tell you this: If Liz were here right now and she heard the rhythms coming forth from the church next door that I am hearing now, she'd walk right out the door, across the yard, and into that church.
I should too.
I'm not Liz.
But just knowing her is a saying of yes to life. I swear it is.
We met over a birth. Now we talk a lot about death. But we are still in the in-between. We are both grandmothers. We know some stuff. We know we don't know it all by any means.
I know I love her.


I stopped by to see my boys on my way home. Owen. Owen. He's going to be three soon. Do you realize that? Three years old. He bade me come into his cardboard castle with him. The cat came in too and we hung out, the three of us. You know what he told me today? He said, "I like you." My grandson likes me. I guess that's about as good as it can be. For me, at least. 


Gibson is four months old today. One third of a year. I got to give him a bottle and the way he held my finger in his hand is something I hope I remember on my death bed. Speaking of death. And birth. And in-between. He is starting to eat some food and he loves it. So far he has had bananas.
And tonight, Lily steamed some organic carrots and mushed them up and this is what he looked like when he had some:

Lily said he liked them. I think he must have been trying to figure out whether or not he did when she took this picture which doesn't even really look like Gibson because he usually looks like this:

 He is the smilingest baby I ever did see. He's like the Buddha of Babies. 


And now I'm home and I can hear the drums from next door winding in and out of the air like snakes; da-DUH-DA, da-da-DUH-DA. 

I have to cook my supper and eat it and go to bed because I am so damn tired. Sometimes I think I just get exhausted from all the stuff that goes on in this world that shows that there is not nearly enough love. Which can save you. Love can. Sometimes I think that the older I get, the less energy or interest I have in anything which isn't about love becomes more and more profound.

And sometimes, I think that's okay and natural. I think we're all desperate for it. Love.

I know I have been for my entire life. And been blessed to have a lot of it. And old enough to admit I need it bad and to know that you do too.

All right. That's all. Maybe, if you want to, go see Moonrise Kingdom with someone you love. Then, if you want, go see it again with someone else you love. I sort of want to see it with every person I love. Just thinking of that makes me feel really tender.

Until tomorrow.

Ms. Moon

Open Letter To Wes Anderson

Dear Wes,
Since I do not have your e-mail address, I am forced by circumstance to address you in this way, a way which I feel quite sure will never, ever get your attention but one must do whatever one can.

One is sometimes surprised, the way I myself was when I wrote about the vibrators they sold in the Vermont Country Catalog and I got a comment from Lymon Ortmon, the freaking PROPRIETOR of the catalog! No, they did not send me any vibrators and actually, they even quit sending me the catalog but still- it's this sort of thing which can give a girl hope.
You know?

So. Yes, here is my first and last-ditch effort to get in touch with you and what I want to talk to you about is that I see you have cast your next movie which is supposedly going to be entitled Moonrise Kingdom.

Now. As I have said in this very blog on previous occasions, I would do almost anything to join the holy ranks of those who work with you in films.
I realize that perhaps you already have all of your actors cast. However, I am thinking that up 'til now, you did not realize that I would be available. Easily made mistake. I've just this very week gotten my own IMDb page. Please, feel free to go there and check it out. No, there's no picture. I hear that you have to PAY to get a picture. But you can go see my work! Go ahead. I'll wait.

Back already? Huh. Well, let me assure you that I have exactly what you look for in your actors, which, as far as I can tell, is an interesting face capable of expressing quite a bit of emotion (seriously- a reviewer said that about my face! a REVIEWER!) and also, the ability to "do" deadpan.
Hey! I can do deadpan so well that people frequently do not realize I am joking. See what I mean?
I am good at that, darling. May I call you darling? I hope so.

I have other acting talents. I am able to memorize long passages of script in record time. To be truthful, record time translates to "longest amount of time ever taken in history," but to make up for that, I am very good at the ad lib, a skill I have perfected on the stage. When I forgot my lines. See? I not only have screen experience, I have stage experience as well.

And I'm not expecting a major role to begin with. A very small one would do. I am a firm believer that there are no small roles, only small actors. Who said that? Billy Barty? I am not sure but he should know. I could even help you write a role in for me. Because when I'm not acting, I'm writing. I am published daily, right here on Blogger. I hit that "Publish Post" button at least two times a day.
No. I am not one of your one-trick ponies. Not me.

And...sigh. Even if you do not any role for me at all, I do have many other talents which could come in handy on a film set. I'm a good tidier. For some reason, I would think that film sets could get very messy. I'm good at doing laundry. And yes, yes, okay! I have admitted that I would wash your underwear if that's all you needed from me. And I would. Cheerfully. That underwear could be given to me in any state of besoiledness and I could return it spanking clean and soft and well-folded! I promise you! With a smile! (An expressive smile, at that. On my interesting face.)
Clean toilets? You bet!
Sweep floors? I'm your gal!
Clack that clacker thing? I could learn.
Fluffer? Oh wait. You don't make that kind of movies. But if you did...well. One must sacrifice for one's art, right?

The point here is, Wes, that I am fifty-six years old and I ain't getting any younger. Neither are you, but that's neither here nor there. My very talented friend and filmmaker, FC Rabbath has promised me that if he gets rich and famous, he will still want me for his films. I am quite sure that FC (or, Freddy, as I call him!) IS going to achieve fame and fortune but Wes, YOU ALREADY HAVE! And I'm all for taking shortcuts. Especially at my age.

But mostly? I adore you. I adore your work. Frankly, I'm not really that into movies. But yours? Oh yes. I watch them over and over again. I sit there and I laugh and I cry and I sigh with delight and I say, "Look at those faces!" No one, Wes, does faces like you do. No one.

I'm not just saying that either. I'm too old to kiss ass.
Unless you want me to!

I know you're a busy man, Wes My Love. May I call you My Love? I hope so. So I'll just sum it all up right here and say, "Hire me. If you don't like me, you can fire me. Easily done."
You can hire me to act or wash your underwear. Or cook food for your dying dog or even grandmother. I'm good at that, too, which I forgot to mention. I'm good at cooking for the dying. AND living! But I assume you already have that Craft Services contract all set up.

Call me, honey. May I call you honey? I hope so. I'm in the book. Also, you could email me. My email address is over there in that sidebar thing. I'd say you could text me but, uh, I don't really open my cell phone but once a week or so. For you, though, I would LEARN to text. I'd learn so good I could be your official texter. I'd even SEXT for you! Isn't that a word you young people use?
See. I may be a grandmother but I'm hip. I'm cool. AND grandmotherly.

One last thing.
You do know my last name is Moon, right? And the title of your film is Moonrise Kingdom, right? Do you believe in signs, destiny, omens and all that other garbage? I HOPE SO!

Waiting breathlessly to hear from you. Have your girl call my girl. Don't have a girl? I COULD BE YOUR GIRL! YOUR GIRL THAT CALLS OTHER GIRLS! I COULD DO THAT!
For you, Wes, I could do anything.

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which We Find The Eggs

So Mr. Moon and I were sitting on the porch with our Friday night martinis and the chickens were visiting with us and Elvis was eating the flowers off my newly-planted impatiens as he has been doing all day long, that son-0f-a-bitch,

and we shooed him away from that and then all of the chickens gathered on the end of the porch

and I said, "Mr. Moon, we need to figure out where these hens are laying their eggs."
And Elvis chased Mabel off the porch and fucked her sincerely with great vigor and we yelled, "Elvis, stop that!" and a big truck went by and Elvis got off Mable who was as flat as a pancake, which is what a sister-wife does after she has been made loved to.

And Mr. Moon and I went out with flashlights to see where the hens might be laying because I am getting like one egg a day and I know that it's spring and all of those hens are laying.

I checked the bushes and Mr. Moon looked under the photo lab and all of a sudden I heard, "Here they are."

They have been laying in the old water pump shed.


Look at that.

Fourteen eggs, right on the ground and why? They have beautiful nests and I guess I'm going to have to keep them in the coop so that they remember that they have a rightful and holy place to lay eggs.

We gathered the eggs and some roses and honeysuckle and put them all in a basket.

And I put the roses and honeysuckle in a vase and did the float test on the eggs and they all passed so I put them in the refrigerator and made us a supper of venison meat and tomato sauce pasta with some berry cobbler and salad and we ate all of that while watching the Royal Tenenbaums

which is one of my favorite movies of all times and not the least of reasons because my love, Bill Murray is in it but also because my idol, Angelica Houston is in it

and it occurred to me that the only real sin you can commit as a mother is to deny your children's right to be who they are and what they want to be and that the only real sin you can commit against yourself is to deny who you truly are and prevent yourself from being who that is.

And then, as we finished our supper, it occurred to me again that I would like to get in touch with Wes Anderson and ask him if he needs someone to wash and fold his underwear or whatever, and Mr. Moon cleared the table and now some basketball game is on and tomorrow I shall work in the yard.

Pearl is doing great.

Thank all of you so much. I can't imagine my life without you.

Love...Ms. Moon