Uncertainty

The phlox are beginning to bloom, dotting the yard with lavender everywhere. That always makes me happy. I will tell you what does NOT make me happy and that's the freaking mosquitoes which the  rain brought along with the greening of everything. They are fierce this year and there are multitudes. We seem to have a new breed of them which I do not recall seeing before but my memory, being what it is, could just be failing me.
Our usual mosquitoes are quite small and fast and they can land and suck enough blood to leave a small stain of it on your skin before you register their presence and slap them. Going out to pick the garden at the end of the day is an exercise in torment. If you're going to be out for long you simply have to use bug spray. And those are bad enough.
However, this new (to me) mosquito is about ten times as large as the usual ones. At least. And black as Satan's toenails. They have a proboscis on them that's about as big as an insulin needle and I read that because of this they torment cattle as well as humans. I looked them up and they appear to be commonly called "gallinippers" and are not unusual. The larvae can be in a state of suspension for years before the elements all come together at which point they develop and hatch. The good news is two-fold: They don't carry disease and they are relatively slow.
I'll tell you what though- they're a lot tougher than the regular skeets and the other night I almost decided that the one I was trying to kill was a vampire, seemingly dead and then arising and righting itself over and over again as I slapped at it.
And yes, I do slap them. Buddha himself would do the same if set down in rural Florida after a good rain. When I took my walk this morning and stepped into the woods to pee, one attacked me and I killed that sucker.
Haha! Sucker.

So the point is, when I was taking the picture you see above, I was being bitten by many, many mosquitoes and when I hung the clothes on the line I was being bitten by many mosquitoes and when I was working in the garden I was being bit by many mosquitoes and this, too, is Florida.

I didn't can anything today but I did pull kale that was completely stripped of leaves by bugs. Also some collards. And I did a little weeding and mulching too but honestly, not much of any of that. I picked a few more green beans and tomatoes. I am not weary of them yet but that day may be coming. I've picked two cucumbers so far and more are blooming and forming and I've picked a about two handfuls of crowder peas and put them in the refrigerator, waiting for more to shell and make a meal of.
That is always something to look forward to.

I was going to go into Publix and Costco today but after my walk I decided to stay here and attend to things and go tomorrow. I am still as anxious as ever about being around people. Jessie says that everyone she knows is mingling with family like crazy and so many of the mothers in her mothers' group are inviting her to play gatherings with all the kids. Meanwhile, Lily reports that two Publix employees (not at her store) have tested positive for the virus, and cases are going up dramatically in Florida.
You know what I wish?
I wish we had a government that would give us the actual facts and make advisements on them. Did you see the news about the bar in Jacksonville opening and sixteen people who had gathered there for a birthday all came down with covid? They had to re-close the bar. And yet our governor is parroting the administration saying that the reason the numbers are going up is that there is more testing.
Right.
But I really want to know what the risks actually are for me to hug and kiss on my family. I want to be able to weigh the pros and cons with accurate information and advice from people who know what they're talking about. Trump seems to have decided to just completely ignore the whole situation except to put out statements about a possible vaccine but he thinks that there's an AID's vaccine and I wouldn't trust him to tell me that we need oxygen to breathe.

Well, once again- this is what it's like in the year 2020. Uncertainty, unhappiness, unemployment, unrest, unbelievable.

Meanwhile, I need to make supper.
I hold on to that which is constant. It gives me some comfort.

Love...Ms. Moon

Playing Pioneer

I took that picture last night. Those are some of the tomatoes we'd picked and some of the beans I'd pickled. Today after my walk on Whitehouse Road which was lovely and not too hot I decided to do something with the tomato bounty. Or at least some of it. There's a part of me that doesn't want to do a thing with these tomatoes except to eat them, one after another. But I figured that we'll be getting more and we can't possibly eat all of them or least it would be very difficult and not very prudent and I wanted to make some ketchup.

Years and years ago Mr. Moon's daddy put in a garden and he did what I call farmer-gardening meaning he wasn't exactly what we might describe as all-natural or organic or anything even remotely like that but by god, he grew some tomatoes! He grew so many tomatoes and brought them to me to do something with that my kitchen became a canning factory. I canned tomatoes and salsa until I was sick of canning tomatoes and salsa. So I tried making some ketchup and I have no idea what recipe I used but I remember it as being so very good and not much like what comes from Heinz although I do like Heinz ketchup. Truly.

I got out the canning Bible, the Ball Blue Blue Book (and yes, that is the name of it) and found a recipe in it that sounded pretty okay.

So I tried it. First I had to dunk the tomatoes in boiling water for a minute or so to get the skins off. And this is what they looked like in a blue bowl after I'd done that.

Now aren't those just pretty? 

Then the recipe said to "cook them" along with chopped onions and red pepper until soft. I like the fact that they just assume you know how to do that. 

So I cooked the tomatoes and peppers and onions in my big Le Creuset pot that my man gave me for Christmas until they were soft and then I drained the vegetables, keeping the juice and pureed them in the food processor although the recipe said to put them through a strainer or a food mill. My copy of the Blue Book is from 1999 so there you go. I put the puree back in the pot with the juice and boiled it down for about an hour. I suppose you would now call this "reducing". We used to just call it "boiling it down."

At that point I added a spice bag with a half a cinnamon stick, some mustard seed and celery seed, then some allspice, a tiny bit of ground cloves, sugar, a bay leaf, and salt. And set it back to boiling. You cook all of this for about twenty-five minutes and then add vinegar and cook until thickened. 

Of course while all of this is happening you have to boil your jars and lids. 

Every time I'm in the canning process I recall what it was like to can in a kitchen without air conditioning. 

Hell would be the short answer. I know because when I was a young hippie I used to can and pickle like crazy and we did not have AC. 

Can you imagine being one of those ladies who had to put up food in the Florida heat? Using a woodstove? It must have gotten up to at least a hundred and ten degrees in those kitchens. And this wasn't any hobby. This was do or die. Literally. If you didn't grow a lot of food and then preserve it your family would just starve in the winter. 

And no running water either so you either had to haul water for the canner from a well or a pump out back. 

I love to think of myself as being all Florida pioneer-y and stuff here in my old house where women have been canning and keeping chickens and making bread for a hundred and sixty years but I'm just playing at it. I doubt I could last a week doing what those women really did. 

But I do love to play at it. 

So after my ketchup had thickened and my jars and lids were sterilized I filled the jars and processed them for ten minutes in boiling water in the canning kettle and although all of this is just a picnic in the park compared to what the strong women did in the olden days, it's still a bit of work. 

And guess how much ketchup all of that picking and peeling and processing made? 

Two pints. 

Exactly two pints. But those are two pints of the most delicious ketchup you can imagine and my kitchen smells like tomato heaven. 

And besides- what else am I going to do here in the days of the pandemic? 

Jessie sent out a picture of Levon today. 

He's showing off his new dress and new track-hoe underwear. The dress has pockets. He's so happy. August, however, burst into tears because he wanted a new dress too. 

Of course I'll make him one. And of course it will have pockets. Everyone needs pockets and that's all there is to it. 

I'm off to go snip and snap and cook some green beans, slice tomatoes, bake pork chops and sweet potatoes. I might even make some muffins. Have you ever grated fresh ginger into your muffin batter? 

You should. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Don't Read This If You Need Cheering Up

It was a bit cooler this morning and way less humid so I figured that my walk wouldn't be so bad but it was anyway. I think it's a relative thing. Exercising in 83 degree weather is not that much better than exercising in 86 degree weather. 

Oh well. I didn't die. Again.

I felt pretty useless and aimless this morning, truthfully. My morning angst felt sharp and pointed, not unlike what I would imagine it must feel like to be in the clutches of a predator bird's talons. Like this is not going to end well. 
But I know that I go to these places sometimes, especially when I first wake up, as if sleeping has stripped me of my defenses, my coping abilities, any hope I might have for the future. It's a dreary thing, sometimes even scary. But I know by now that it'll pass.
And it did. Sort of.
Not really.
After lunch I went out and picked beans and then decided to fill up the canning kettle again and make some more pickled beans. This is such a time-consuming process that it can be a lifesaver. "Busy hands make hearts light." Isn't that what they say? I don't know about the light hearts part but trimming beans and sterilizing jars and lids and making brine can at least make one feel as if there is purpose and meaning to a long afternoon.
Once again I didn't really use a recipe. For the brine I use half water, half vinegar. Sometimes all white vinegar, sometimes a mixture of white and apple cider. A fourth of a cup of pickling salt to about six cups of liquid and about a cup of sugar if I want sweet beans which I did today. The other spices are put directly into the jars after they are packed with beans and before the brine gets poured over them. I've been using coriander seed, dill weed, dill seed, mustard seed, ground red pepper flakes and garlic. Of course garlic. A nice fat clove in each pint.

And that has been my day. Well, with a little laundry and watering and putting out fresh nectar for the hummingbirds. And a crossword or two.
Hey! Girls just wanna have fun! Am I right?
Sure.
Whatever.

The Supreme Court made a good decision in ruling that one can't fire an employee due to their sexual orientation. That's good news. The whole debacle that Trump's pushing wherein trans people can be denied proper healthcare hasn't been dealt with yet.
Black people are still being killed. White people are still calling the police on folks trying to live while black. And then when the backlash hits, begging to be forgiven and spouting shit about how they really just did not understand that their actions were...RACIST!
For Christ's sake. How can you reach adulthood without knowing how offensive certain actions are? Do these people have no empathy? Are they completely devoid of awareness?
I guess so. I mean, King Dong is. And proudly so.

Blogger won't let me post pictures and I'm still on the old Blogger. For a while they were giving me the option of using the new one but that seems to have disappeared. Don't worry though. The only pictures I have today are of the canned beans and two chickens and you've seen these things before. 

I sure hope my attitude improves as the week progresses. In the meantime, I better go tend to my pizza dough. 

Every little thing is gonna be alright. 

Right? 

Sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Sunday At The Church Of The Batshit Crazy

Jessie texted this morning that she was going to take the boys down to the Wacissa to see if they could safely play and swim about and in a while she texted again saying that although there were lots of boats going out, she and August and Levon were the only ones on the little beach area and would we like to come join them for a dip?
Oh yes we would.
So we lickitysplitted it into our bathing suits and into the car and on our way to the river and by the time we got there there were still only one or two other people in the water. Lovely. The boys were happily shoveling in the sand and August started jumping off the dock and I got in and dove under the crystal clear water for my first holy baptism of the summer.

I wanted to kiss Levon's little tummy so bad. This physical yearning for my babies is not getting any easier. But. Yesterday there was a 35% rise in the number of Covid cases reported in Florida which is the highest number we've recorded. We've already had 73,552 cases of reported Covid in the state and 1,295 deaths. 

We have to be as safe as we can. This is not the time to become complacent. It just isn't. 

At least that's what I think but I quickly realized at the river that it's not what a whole lot of other people think because just a few minutes after I had my little blessing dive, folks started arriving. Within twenty minutes there were people everywhere. The canoers and kayakers were coming in from the water and the rest of the hoards were coming in from the land. There must have been at least fifty people by the time we got packed up who rushed the little beachy area with their coolers, their chairs, their umbrellas, their floats, their towels, their kids. 

And no one seemed to give one good damn about social distance. 

We absolutely could not pack up our stuff quickly enough not to be exposed to I have no idea how many people. And masks?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Mr. Moon who was putting one of our chairs back in its carrying case politely said to one woman who was obviously desperate for our shady spot to please give him "ten minutes and six feet." 

Twice he said that. 

She completely ignored him. 

He showed huge restraint in not screaming at her in my opinion. 

This is just ridiculous. And the damn state AND federal government are being horribly irresponsible and reckless in allowing things to open up again. People are going to be flooding the state for their annual beach vacations and of course the fucking damn stupid shitass Republican convention is going to be held in Jacksonville in August. 

I'm sick of all of it. 

On our way to the river we passed a house that had a huge flagpole flying an American flag and a Trump/Pence flag, and there was an enormous cross in the yard. Big enough to crucify Godzilla on. Mr. Moon said, "They're missing one thing."

"What's that?" I asked. 

"A confederate flag."

"Oh god. You're right," I told him. 

Did I already say that I'm sick of all of it? 

You know what's crazy? The fact that everyone in their right mind isn't protesting in the streets. 

With masks on. Staying six feet apart. 

Well. Here's another picture of my precious boys. 

And I want to make it very clear that I am not complaining that we had to leave the river before we may have been quite ready to go. I feel extremely lucky that we were able to enjoy the peace and beauty of it for even a few minutes. When we felt that it was no longer a safe environment we had the choice to leave and we did. What I AM complaining about is the absolute disregard for personal or other people's safety that is being shown. If we had a president who listened to the advisors who are qualified to help him make decisions concerning the way this pandemic is being handled things would be different. But just as with racism, homophobia, misogyny and violence, Trump is enabling (and even encouraging) behavior which is nothing short of deadly. 

I joke about going to hell. I don't believe in hell. Not in the least. But if I did, I think that Donald Trump, or King Dong as I think I will start calling him, would have a burning suite in the deepest, reddest, hottest pit of it just awaiting his arrival. 

And he couldn't get there too fast for me. 

I can't blame everything on him by any means. Obviously we are not the nation I believed we were. But by god, he does not have to constantly try to appeal to the lowest denominator of humanity while at the same time, blessing the richest of the rich with more and more ways to become even richer. 

That's about it for now. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Who Am I To Despair?

I've mentioned before that my friend Lynn was a world-class gift giver. She never had much money to spend on gifts but years and decades after she gave me certain presents I still have them, cherish them, use them. The tiny vase the rose is in above is actually the body of a salt shaker that she gave me. The screw-on top is made of silver and is dented and tarnished with age. I have kept it for years on a vanity I have. The round shape of the little glass vessel pleases me no end and two days ago, when Mr. Moon brought me a tightly closed rose bud from the garden I took the top off the shaker, placed it carefully where I would find it, filled the glass part with water and put the rose bud in it. This morning it opened it's soft petals and there is nothing about the flower, the vase, which does not make me happy.

Oh, what a day. No, not in the great sense or in the tragic or anxious sense. Just... a day of being sick of myself. How many crosswords can one do before one has to admit she may have a problem? Well, of course I don't think I have a problem (with crosswords, at least) but I know that I do use doing them as a way to pass the time which would be so much better spent doing something constructive like cleaning or learning to paint or writing letters or even reading a good book.
But no. It's so easy just to sit there and stare at the computer screen and experience the tiny satisfaction of finding the right word or to despair at not finding the right word. It struck me today as I was doing the millionth load of laundry that I've done in my life that I may well not have that many years left to live and yet- here I am, wasting whatever precious time I do have with these ridiculous pastimes, these never-ending chores and meaningless activities.
And yet- I have no motivation to change my ways.
I actually did clean and mop the kitchen and bathroom floors today. I moved everything out of the way that could be moved and swept twice and then mopped twice. But for once, even the smell of Fabuloso and white vinegar doesn't make me feel anything except acknowledgement that by this time tomorrow, those floors will be dirty again.
I researched the freezing of green beans and by "research" I mean to say that I looked at a few web sites which claimed that not blanching and then ice-bathing the beans before freezing results in a better bean when it comes time to thaw them and eat them.
Because I am a sloth I chose to accept that theory and snapped three quarts worth of my rattlesnake beans, put them in freezer bags, sealed them and put them in the freezer.
Somehow this is not anywhere near as satisfying as canning. Ziplocks simply do not have the same charm and cachet as mason or ball jars. But I'd need a pressure canner to process green beans without a brine and I do want to save some for future meals.

I saw both Dottie and Darla off the nest today. They were getting a quick bite and a sip so I went out to see what exactly they're sitting on. Dottie is sitting on ONE egg and Darla has two underneath her. This is ridiculous. I think I heard Fancy Pants trying to crow this morning. Someone was but of course, it could have been Susie.

I just wrote a very sad and rather angry paragraph about Lynn's last years but I've deleted it. There's no purpose in that. She was a beautiful soul and she's gone now. I use the pretty little French glass bowls she gave me every day of my life. The saltshaker brings me joy. My memories of her bring me joy as well as deep sadness.
Perhaps it's just a day to let myself feel sad.

There's a still life from last night. 

Here's a picture of the tiny new leaves which have appeared in the pot where I've kept three rooted giant begonias for months. 

Life. As Kurt Vonnegut said, there is just no stopping it. 

It's good to think about that. And to remember that Lynn would probably have given anything to be able to grow old doing laundry and crosswords. 

Hang in there, y'all. Do what you need to do to keep living for the years that you have been given. 

I will too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

All The News

Last night's fried mullet was the best I ever made. It was perfect in all regards. I can now tell you that mullet freshly frozen is super fine. I let it soak in milk a little bit and then coated it with corn meal, flour, salt and pepper. I fried it in some oil and that was that. I don't usually fry things but when I do, it's generally a type of fish. Bream or mullet. I felt very North Florida as we ate our fish, our squash, our green beans, our sliced tomatoes. It was a meal that Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings would have recognized.

So it's Friday and now it's raining which is delicious. Thunder is rumbling and it smells so clean and fresh outside and I'm just glad of it. It's been as hot and humid all day as it was yesterday. And the day before...
But the rain finally allows the humidity to become something cooling rather than torturous.
My walk this morning felt like a direct challenge from a god who was not happy with me. I have to absolutely get into my own head and just listen to my book to survive these walks now. I was so deep into it today that when I passed Jacob's house I didn't even see him sitting there under his shade tree until he called out to me.
"You still moving!" he said.
"I'm still moving," I answered. I'm sure I looked like I was about to die. I sure felt like it.

The rest of the day has been leisurely for me. Laundry, some bean and tomato picking. I picked our first cucumber of the year. It's a nice one. I even took a nap.
I got some texts from Lily and Jessie with pictures of the kidlings.

It was pointed out to me that I haven't seen them in person in a week. Over a week for Lily's kids. I was thinking that was last weekend that we all got together for our not-very properly socially distant visit. I did see Jessie and the boys last Friday. I can't keep track of time. Who can? 

Maggie gave us a scare this week when she started running a fever the other night. 

102. 

Hoo-boy.

Lily called the pediatrician and they did a televisit check-up which is pretty worthless and told her that she could get Maggie tested for the virus if she wanted. Lily took her to the local testing site and did just that. But she's been fine ever since, fever-free and happy. 

Look at that sweet, juicy little slice of watermelon! She called me this afternoon just to chat for a moment. 

May texted the group this afternoon announcing that she'd just finished her first whole week of of her new job. We all knew she'd gotten a job but we had no idea she'd started it. She interviewed at the Coop a few weeks ago for a position and got it which means she gets to work with BILLY! 

Which is about the best thing ever. 

She says she likes it. It's very physical, but that doesn't bother her. She's a strong woman. The job pays decently and in a little while she'll have benefits and qualify for paid leave. 

Hurray!

She says that she's so happy she's not a manager and I said, "Well, that won't last long."

And it won't. 

So all of my little chickadees seem to be okay. Hank is doing well. Mr. Moon's still working his ass off getting the duplex ready for him and Rachel to move in. It's like he's building them a house, I swear. Today he went in to the office to get some paperwork done. 

And I guess that's about it. I'm living my little life. I've barely looked at the news today although from what I have seen, new Covid cases in Florida are increasing like crazy and John Bolton's book is about to come out. Florida is supposed to open schools up again next fall and Bolton is too little too late if you ask me. My Trump-loving neighbors have replaced their four-year old Trump/Pence sign with a new one. I will be getting a Biden sign and I don't care if his running mate is a Lhasa Apso. 

Martini time. Making supper time. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Mostly Drivel

From my WTF weather app.
I forget to even look at it for months at a time but it's so miserably muggy today that I thought I'd get their take on things and I have to say that it's right on point.
Are we going to have to listen to her bitching about the weather every day for the next six months? you may be asking yourself. And the answer is- maybe.
Also, my "real" weather widget says that it's 86 in Lloyd and "feels like" 97.
Either way, ball sack soup weather.

I walked on Whitehouse Road this morning and it was almost enjoyable simply because it wasn't on Old Lloyd Road. Also- more trees, more shade. Not very much traffic. I kept a good pace.

Here's a family portrait of the bebe chickens.

Forgive the poop. Chickens poop. That's what they do. Anyway, the dark gray ones are the three that I have not named although I think one of them shall be called Robin because she has a nice orange chest. They look so much alike though. And then of course there's Fancy Pants and Tweety Bird who still reminds me far more of a canary than she does a hen. She's so tiny! Could the Tractor Supply store have gotten a canary mixed in with the banty peeps? 

I really don't think so. 

Speaking of chickens, there's a rooster somewhere in the neighborhood who will NOT stop crowing. Something is definitely wrong there. Either he's in a perilous situation or else he is broken. I am becoming annoyed. Liberace, who generally responds to any and all other roosters proclaiming their roosterliness with crows of his own is ignoring this one. 

I stole two eggs from underneath Miss Darla today. We've got to get some eggs. She doesn't peck the way Dottie does. She just makes tentatively threatening cluckings when I reach under her whereas Dottie goes straight for hand blood. 

I picked more beans today, a few more tomatoes. Mr. Moon presented me with a huge bag of frozen mullet this morning (I am a bit fuzzy on where they came from- he told me but of course I've forgotten) so we're going to have fried mullet tonight. Mullet has to be either fried or smoked and that's all there is to it. In fact, I've never cooked mullet that had been frozen before so we'll have to see how this goes. It's absolutely the truth that the best way to cook mullet, whether by frying it or smoking it is to have it on the heat before it's been 24 hours out of the water although I hear that this fish was in the freezer before that time limit was up. I've got the squash croquette mixture made up and the tartar sauce made so I'm about ready to go into dinner making mode. I am still finding it very difficult to have supper on the table before eight. I just never think it's going to take me as long as it does. 

I noticed on my way home from my walk today that one of my neighbors has Karen Purser's campaign sign in their yard. I am a bit surprised. These are not stupid people. They are, however, very Catholic, and I suppose they go to church with Ms. Purser. 

Man, politics and religion are both extremely weird. Combine them and the devil will get his due.

The rooster is still crowing. I suppose I could get off my lazy ass and walk next door to see what's going on. I just don't have the energy. After picking beans and cleaning a few nests in the hen house today I was once again soaked in sweat. That made two distinct sweat-soaked experiences for me today including my walk and that was about enough outdoor activity for me. 

Another day of time slipping by so quickly that it was two p.m. before I'd finished my lunch. I really do not understand this strange time-matrix we seem to be in and if the calendars aren't lying, it's going to be Friday tomorrow. The cardinals are making their evening chipping announcements, Liberace has just trumpeted a getting-close-to-last-call warning to the hens and I am looking forward to the moment I've showered and gotten into my bed and turned my fan on with almost obscene anticipation. 

This is life in Lloyd on June 11, 2020. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Love Labors

Today has been a relatively busy day. I made the shrimp salad for Hank and wish I'd taken a picture. It was a pretty thing. I cooked enough shrimp and pasta for us to have a salad tonight ourselves. I also made a loaf of sourdough which is in the oven right now. Hank and Rachel came over for a birthday visit and to pick up the salad and some vegetables from the garden and a jar of pickled green beans. We visited in the kitchen for awhile. They wore their masks and I stood across the kitchen from them. So that was nice.
I swear though- not being able to hug my child on his birthday when he's standing right there is just crazy. I remember forty-four years ago when he was born and as soon as they let us out of the hospital which was just a few hours after he was born, you couldn't have pried that baby off of me with a crowbar. The main reason I did not want a hospital birth is because the thought of being separated from my child was intrinsically wrong to me. And in those days, separating the mother and baby was the routine. "Bonding" was a word that only crazy hippies and Lamaze teachers talked about. Of course most mothers had been drugged to the point of being unable to safely hold their newborns in those days so there was that.
BUT, I wasn't having it and I hardly put Hank down for months after his birth. I was horribly selfish and could barely stand to let anyone else hold him. His father left to go on tour a few days after he was born and so for a few weeks it was me and Hank and honestly, that was fine with me. My heart and arms were full.
So, having Hank here and not being able to hug him, to kiss him, was a sort of torture. I sure would love to have hugged Rachel too.
Sigh...

Which sort of brings us to the emails I sent to Ms. Karen Purser. I wrote the first one last night. It went like this:

Ms. Purser- You came to my house today to ask for my vote and the very first thing I noticed is that you were not wearing a mask nor did you seem to be concerned about keeping six feet of space between us. 

I see that you are a nurse. I am too. I am sixty-five years old and have not kissed nor hugged my grandchildren since March 17th and I do not appreciate it when someone blithely ignores the recommendations for keeping us all safe from covid 19 because I have made deep sacrifices in doing my best to keep all of us safe. 

You may want to consider this fact when you knock on people's doors. 

Mary Moon

And she had replied by this morning. 

Ms. Moon,

Thank you for taking the time to let me know your COVID19 concerns. You are correct - I did not don a mask.  The COVID virus is so small that any mask other than a N95 is useless in preventing the virus from permeating the mask barrier.  The typical hospital masks that most people are wearing function more to relieve fears than stop infection.  Also, I'm healthy and asymptomatic.  I did, however, have a bottle of Purell in my back pocket that I used per the guidelines.  You and I both know that the most significant barrier to preventing illness is hand hygiene.  Lastly, since I was outside your residence where the air flow is neither impeded nor recycled, the risk of infection was further reduced.  I'm sorry you feel that I "blithely ignored the recommendations" and hope that this additional information helps put you at ease.

Blessings,

Karen Purser

Candidate for School Board District 4

That "Blessings" almost made me puke. So I wrote her back:

No. It doesn't put me at ease. If you are on my porch, knocking on my door, standing in my doorway and I open the door, you are going to be less than six feet away from me. And masks DO indeed help prevent the spread of the virus. They protect others. And how am I to know that you had a bottle of Purell in your back pocket? 

And as we all know, being healthy and asymptomatic does not mean that you are not unwittingly shedding the virus. 

If for no other reason than to show that you are aware of public safety and that you care about the protection of others, any of whom could be elderly, immunocompromised, ill themselves, or in any number of ways more vulnerable than others, it might be a good idea to wear a mask. 

I obviously failed to communicate a message that she could relate to because this is what she sent in return:

Ms. Moon,

Thank you for your input.

Have a blessed day.

Of course last night I did a search for her on FB. Either she hardly ever uses it or else she's scrubbed everything she's posted since about 2017. Of those posts she had shared a post written by someone I actually knew about praying the rosary for the unborn at abortion clinics and on his knees before bed, a recommendation for a company that sells pro-USA clothing, and some jingoistic anthem about people who desecrate the flag by taking a knee to protest. 

I think we know what this all means. 

And she probably believes that Covid is a conspiracy to take our freedoms away from us. 

Yes. This is just the person I would like to see making decisions about Jefferson County schools. 

Also? My first reaction to her, which was BAD VIBE was accurate. 

I think I'm focusing all of my anger about everything that's going on on her. 

She seems like such a perfect example of a clueless self-righteous white person who doesn't give a shit about the health and wellbeing of others. And if she didn't vote for Trump, I'll eat my hat. 

And honestly, I need to let it go. She's ignorant, obviously, and nothing I could say to her is gong to change her mind or her heart and I just hope that she doesn't get elected. 

In sweeter news, I got that picture up there of Darla and Susie when I went out to check for eggs. Susie is donating her eggs to Darla. How generous of her! How selfless! 

Haha. 

She's thinking, "Thank god I don't have the urge to sit here in this hot nest box for a month, going without food and water. But hey, Darla! You can have my eggs to sit on and raise! Okay. Gotta go eat some tasty corn and drink some sweet, sweet water!"

Another thing I did today was to cut out a pattern to make Levon another dress. 

The material was some that I bought before he was born to make newborn gowns with but never did. It's a completely impractical print with all of that white in it for a boy who loves nothing more than to shovel dirt but Jessie can bleach it. I also oiled and lubed and dusted my old Singer. A labor of love. 

Which is not a bad theme for today, it being Hank's birthday and everything. 

There is nothing sweeter or more rewarding. 

I believe I will now go lovingly chop up some vegetables and make another salad. 

I'll tell you one thing that Ms. Purser got right- I am blessed beyond measure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Time For A Change But Not In The Way You Might Think

Mr. Moon informed me this morning that I talked in my sleep last night. I only said one word and that word was "bullshit."
We are not surprised.
I have no idea what prompted me to make that declaration in my sleep. If it was a dream, I do not remember it.

These days it's sometimes hard to discern what is dream and what is not. The distinction between bullshit and non-bullshit is not so hard to determine. We all have our own definitions of bullshit, I suppose, meaning that what I might call bullshit, you might call plain old common sense. Or vice versa. I say bullshit, you say truth. I say bullshit, you say horseshit.
Whatever.
Some bullshit happened here today in my opinion. I was in the kitchen heating up some stew for lunch when someone knocked on my kitchen door. Loudly, and with purpose.
I was startled, to say the least. No one's knocked on my kitchen door a very long time. People just don't drop in on people these days. And in the country, that's even more true. Just walking or driving onto someone's property can be seen as threatening. Generally if someone does walk uninvited up to your door and knocks it is probably either someone proselytizing for their own particular brand of religion or a political candidate. Now there was that Sunday morning when three middled-aged, nicely dressed, already-tipsy women knocked on my door thinking that the person who lived across the street lived here and although that was a fun fifteen minutes (they didn't want to leave), it was a unique and one-time situation.
So today's visitor was a political candidate.
First thing she did to piss me off was to not be wearing a mask and to stand right up next to the screen door endangering both of us but she didn't seem to care about that. She announced her name and that she is running for the school board in Jefferson County because the last administration made things terrible (her words) and it's time for a change.
I got a bad vibe off her right away. Now, the public schools, (all both of them) in Jefferson County are horrible and that's just the truth. Jefferson County has a few very, very rich people (Ted Turner) and a whole lot of very, very, VERY poor people. Taxes are low because this is mostly an agricultural area. The schools have been historically underfunded and inadequate and they aren't getting any better. The Catch-22 of this is that there are plenty of people who would love to live in Jefferson County who work in Tallahassee but they simply can't because the schools are so bad. Anyone who lives here who has enough money sends their kids to the private school which is a Christian school.
I am not kidding you.
And guess who most of those kids are?
White kids.
Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it!
So, not to put too fine a point on it but guess who attends the public schools?
Black kids!
And believe it or not, somehow there has been no way to improve the schools because...
Well.
Sure. Not enough money for one thing and for another thing, they sure aren't going to raise taxes to create better educational opportunities for black kids.
Basically, I think that's the deal. Of course I could just be extremely cynical.
But every election, someone new steps up and claims that they can do something about this and in fact, the schools got so bad that the state forced them to let some charter school network take over and I'm really confused about this. Is it a private company, this academy? See, I should know this stuff because I do live here.
So anyway, it's that time again and this woman is running for office.

So there was Ms. Purser, first name KAREN, standing too close for comfort in my kitchen door asking not only for my vote but asking if she could put one of her big honking signs in my yard that one of her minions was toting. 

I said "No" immediately to that and before I'd even looked at the flyer she'd insisted on handing me I asked her, "Are you a conservative?" which is funny because look at her description there under her picture. 

"VERY!" she said. 

"Yeah, no," I said and shut the door. 

But hey! God wants her to run for the school board in Jefferson County. 

If not her, then who? 

After living here for sixteen years I can almost confidently say that it obviously doesn't matter but I won't be voting for Ms. Purser. 

In fact, I do believe I shall send her an email (address is on her flyer along with information on how you can donate to her campaign) telling her about the concerns I have regarding opening my door to anyone not wearing a mask. 

And that was the highlight of my day. It's rained on and off. I pulled up the squash plants at the request of my husband who is still laying flooring and I mulched the area where they'd been and planted a basil plant and some marigolds which had been in pots. Other than that I've not done much, just lived a very small life doing very small things and it occurs to me that I should not be so prissy and bitchy about someone running for a seat on the school board because at least she is trying to accomplish something although I'm not sure what that is. 

I have a feeling it will not include having sex education in the curriculum. 

Which of course is...BULLSHIT. 

I tell you what, though- I sure hope that a god never tells me to run for political office. 

I'm pretty sure that won't happen. Thank god. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

When I got up this morning it was already eighty-one degrees and the humidity had to be in the nineties. Just nasty muggy. I thought no, no, I cannot walk in this, I can't.
And so I waited until it got even hotter and muggier and then I went, promising myself that I'd only walk up to the county line and back, fuck walking that extra two miles! But of course the stubborn mule within forced me to keep going. When I got to my two-mile halfway mark right before Still Creek, I could smell the water. I felt like a horse or some other kind of beast. It didn't smell nasty or bad in any way, just clean and sharp and I was happy to be an animal at that moment. I stood on the bridge over the creek and where the water is usually contained within the small banks of it, today it had flooded into the surrounding low areas, palmettos and pines standing in water. This picture shows you nothing.

After I got back home and finally cooled off some (and when I say I could literally wring sweat out of my shirt, I am telling you the truth) and eaten my lunch and done some laundry I decided to get a necessary trip to Costco and Publix out of the way. Hank's birthday is on Wednesday and he wants a shrimp salad and I needed shrimp and some other things and so I showered and got dressed and put on some beautiful silver moon earrings that a friend made and sent me and one of my many Virgin of Guadalupe pendants on a silver chain and thus adorned, I made my way to the east side of Tallahassee to shop.
It wasn't horrible. Costco, as always, is doing a great job of making sure that people mask and their check-out procedures and protections are stellar.
Publix was fine, too. And actually most people were wearing masks and for the first time I didn't see one person pushing their cart in the wrong direction in the now one-way only aisles. I waited patiently for customers to finish their decision-making about purchasing this brand of ketchup or that before I entered that space myself. I tried to be courteous and safe. I mostly was, I think.

And then home where I breathed in the sweet air of Lloyd again and unloaded and put everything away and finished laundry and started a loaf of bread to bake for bruschetta and picked more tomatoes and now I have chopped some and they are draining. I will use the sweet tomato juice as part of the broth I cook our green beans in tonight.

I'm so tired but I woke up tired and I think it is a weariness of the soul.
You know what I mean.
During the first part of our pandemic lock-down I was so grateful every day for the cool weather we were blessed with.
Well, that's over.

Here's a picture that Lily sent us all this morning that did a lot to cheer me.

Owen making Jiffy Pop. Isn't he beautiful? 

May all be well with each of you in these times of such strangeness and uncertainty, of powerful birth pangs and necessary labor. We are all learning that we are stronger than we thought we were. Remember that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Home Of The (Not Very) Brave

Tropical Storm Cristobal is about to land in Louisiana but we've been getting its rain since last night. Rained all night long and has continued all day. The new rain gauge, aka new garden cart, shows many inches.

Time to empty the rain gauge! 

It was not hard to convince Mr. Moon to stay home today. In fact, I'm not sure he planned to go in anyway. But between a breakfast of bacon, eggs, biscuits and sliced tomatoes, plus a little romance, he was happy and content to stay home and rest although now he's out cleaning the chest freezer in the garage which isn't exactly restful but which sorely needed doing. 

I've done nothing today except cook that breakfast and laze around. Oh, I did go out during a break in the rain and pick some more beans and tomatoes. And other stuff. 

Some of the tomatoes are busting their skins because of all the rain. 

We cannot possibly eat all of them by ourselves and I suppose tomorrow I should go get some more canning jars and ingredients for salsa or ketchup or something as I mentioned making yesterday. I brought up the idea of making me a pantry to Mr. Moon last night and he agreed that it would be a good idea. 

"I'm just like a Mormon housewife!" I announced, showing him the green beans I'd pickled.

Then I amended my statement saying, "Actually I'm not. At all."

He laughed. 

We opened up one of the jars of the sweet pickled green beans and they are delicious. Too bad I didn't really use a recipe that I can go back and use again to replicate their success. I mean, I know what's in them but as to measurements? Well. No idea. 

This is a drawback to cooking on the fly. 

So I see that the police are trying to prove that they do not overuse force by overusing force at the protests. 

This is no joke. It's unconstitutional and besides that, it's making things so much worse. I know I've said this before but it bears repeating. Don't they realize this? Is this their last gasp (they can't breathe?) of their belief in their ultimate power? I don't pretend to have any answers but I'm not going to pretend that I'm not afraid for my country, either. And for protesters and journalists and medics and casual passers-by and anyone else caught in their vicinity. 

The good news is that prominent Republicans from George Will to Colin Powell are coming out in support of Biden against Trump.

Jesus. What took them so long? 

But with each domino that falls, more will go with them. Will this even matter though to Trump's base which has proven itself over and over and over again to indeed be a basket of deplorables? A fucking BIG basket of deplorables. 

Mr. Moon and I started watching Jeffrey Epstein: Filthy Rich on Netflix. We made a huge batch of popcorn in the old Whirley Pop and sat down and probably got through the first forty-five minutes until we both decided we had things to attend to and the thing that's already so blatantly obvious is that a whole lot of people knew exactly what was going on there which was the serial abuse of underage girls. Children. From his rich and famous cohorts to his employees, no one could not know. Graydon Carter, former editor of Vanity Fair and a man for whom I used to have a lot of respect, has fallen to the depths of my regard because he killed a part of a story on Epstein way back when the reporter had found two women who were brave enough to speak about their abuse at his hands. Not unlike how CBS killed Rowen Farrow's story on Harvey Weinstein. And oh, by the way, Weinstein and Epstein appear to have been pals, just like Epstein and Trump who were not only party buddies but neighbors who lived less than a mile apart. 

Some neighbors did report to the police that they were witnessing a lot of girls coming and going from Epstein's Palm Beach mansion which the police followed up on by interviewing a few women arriving or leaving the house and they were all over eighteen. 

Supposedly. 

It wasn't until the stepmother of a victim called the police that the whole wormy ball of evil started to unravel and even then he was basically slapped on the wrist and we all know that story. 

So what I'm saying here, and again- this is nothing we don't all know- people who witness evil or criminal behavior and who do not report it are completely complicit in the behavior whether the evil doer is a president or a pedophile or racist police officers. Of course it's hard as hell for anyone to step forward if the offender is rich and famous. Hell, it's hard if it's a neighbor or a family member and I can understand not wanting to risk a career, an income, peace within a family, a marriage, status, reputation. 

Or in some cases, possibly even death. 

And when you're dealing with someone with so much wealth and power that the world can barely imagine it, it's got to be almost impossible. 

I do understand that. 

And of course the victims of many crimes are blamed themselves if they come forward. Especially the victims of sexual abuse or assault. 

Even if they are children. 

But what in hell have Republicans had to risk? Their seats in Congress? Their political standing with their bases? Yeah. Maybe. 

But in not stepping forward they have risked the destruction of our very democracy and they will not be viewed well by history. 

That's enough of that. Just a few things I've thought about on this otherwise incredibly pleasant day. I just went out to pick a few greens to go into our tomato salad tonight and found this little tableau when I came back into the kitchen. 

It's like she knows vegetables are good for her but she doesn't understand that you have to actually eat them in order for their nutritional value to be of use. 

Nah. She just thought the towel would be a good place to nap. I am impressed with her care and delicacy in settling herself. Not one squash or tomato or pepper was knocked off the counter. 

Rain continues to fall. It is cool and for this while, at least, the rivers will flow more sweetly, the ponds will fill more fully, the greens will become even greener, and the dirt's thirst will have been slaked. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pickled Beans In Mason Jars And So Forth

I went to clean the hen house nests this morning to find that Darla has joined her sister in nest-sitting. She, too, is hunkered down and as undisturbed by my scraping and cleaning as Dottie. They lay like living statues. I wonder what on earth they think about or if they think at all? Are they in a dream-like state, a drugged-like state, a coma-like state?
I don't know but I do know that if you reach to check under them to see how many eggs there are, they will peck you hard and fast.
I think at this point there may be one under Dottie, two under Darla. But I am not sure. I do not care enough to have blood drawn.

It's been raining since early afternoon, slow but steady. There is a tropical storm named Cristobal which has come up through Mexico and is heading towards Texas, supposedly.

It looks like we won't get much of it, perhaps just more rain and this is the best outcome one can hope for from a storm in the Gulf for us. I keep thinking of what we would do if a major storm headed our way. The pandemic makes the thought of evacuation even more daunting and dreadful than usual but this is yet one more example of something I have no control over at all. 

We'll be okay. 

I spent all afternoon making more pickled green beans. I have no idea if they'll turn out to be any good at all. I did one batch of eight pints with a slightly sweet brine. Unless they are absolutely horrible they'll at least go nicely in Bloody Marys. I hope they are decent because if they aren't, that was a lot of wasted work. I have never made a pickle which was more time-consuming than these beans. 

The beans must be picked, of course, and then washed and trimmed to the correct length to fit into the jars. I marked that length on my cutting board with two dots of Sharpie. I hope that doesn't kill us. I seriously doubt it will. The jars must be sterilized as always. Jar lids and the bands too. Then comes packing the jars which is truly the fussy part. Because beans are not completely straight but have a bit of a curve to them, it is not easy to get them in the jars without leaving spaces where the curves occur and each jar takes me at least ten minutes to pack. Then each jar receives garlic and the spices. By the end of the day I was using my palm to measure the spices so each jar will be somewhat different. A brine must be made and boiled. Vinegar, water, salt, and if sweetness is desired, sugar. After the beans and garlic and spices are put into the jar, the brine is added. Then the jars are sealed with the sterilized lids and bands and then placed into the canning kettle for their boiling water bath. 

After the time is up on that, they are removed and I set them on a piece of newspaper and wait to see if the lids are sucked in which, as I have said, means that they are indeed safely and securely sealed. The bands can (and some say should) be removed at this point but I rarely do. They just look too naked without their bands to me. And then, if one is smart, one will write (with that Sharpie) on the lids as to what is within and when it was put up. 

I am waiting for my last batch of seven pints to seal. The first batch of five have all successfully achieved their purpose. 

I think I have made all of the pickled green beans I need to make for one year but the vines do not show any signs of slowing down their offerings. I need to freeze beans, I suppose. I am beginning to think I may have enough tomatoes to have to think about doing something with (salsa? ketchup?) and of course the cucumbers are really just starting to bloom. The field peas are blooming and probably making little bean babies but I haven't checked closely enough. The plants themselves look amazingly healthy and strong. That will mean shelling and perhaps freezing if there are too many just for use. Before this summer is done, Mr. Moon may need to make me a sort of pantry in the old laundry room to store all of the bounty of his garden. 

Suddenly, blogger won't let me align to the left side anymore. What can I say? There are far bigger problems in the world. Let's pretend I'm writing a poem. 

Haha!

So that's what I've been doing today. I'm listening to a book which is quite enjoyable. It's a Pakistani take on Pride and Prejudice and it's very clever and well-written. 

The author has done a great job of translating the classic Jane Austin novel into a different culture and time. Some things never change, and so forth...

Especially mothers. 

This format is driving me crazy. I better go finish supper even though my husband is not home yet. He's been laying flooring all day and knowing him, he's not going to quit until his self-proclaimed goal for the day has been met. I am going to try and make him stay home tomorrow. He needs the rest whether he thinks so or not. Luckily for me, because I am exhausted after a hard day of standing in one place and doing things with green beans, I started a venison roast with vegetables in the slow cooker this morning so all I need to do is cook some squash and heat up some bread. 

I have nothing to say about the world outside my tiny universe this evening. I am letting it go on without me which it will do no matter what I think. 

Or say.

Be well. Keep staying safe.

Love...Ms. Moon

So Many Ways To Get Your Heart Broken

I do indeed have a hen on the nest but it's Dottie, not Darla. I'm pretty sure. She's doing that flat-chicken thing, spreading herself out like a chicken breast cutlet smashed for Chicken Cordon Bleu. Except she is alive, has bones, feathers, and eggs under her.
I only found one egg today, or rather Jessie found it, and I have a feeling any others that may have been laid are under her warm flat body. She'll be doing this for at least the next month. First she has to lay and collect all the eggs she wants to sit on (and I have no idea how this is determined) and then begins a period of the twenty-one days or so that it takes the eggs to mature and hatch.
This is one hell of a commitment as she will hardly get off the nest to eat or drink or take her baths in the warm sand. I guess that the hens wait until the beginning of summer when they've eaten all of the fresh green things and bugs that spring brought to them so that they are well-nourished for the journey they have to undertake to become a mother hen.

So here we go.

I joined Jessie and the boys this morning at a different blueberry u-pick farm, this one right down by the Wacissa where we always swim. The bushes were heavy with the berries and by the time I got there Jessie had already picked at least four pounds with the help of August and Levon, of course. I picked about a pound while conversing with the boys which is the reason I went- to have conversations with them. It's always the best chatting when hands are busy. Levon got tired though and so we called it a day and went and had our berries weighed and we also made purchases from the little nursery they have going there.

Jessie bought a basil plant, I bought one too, along with a small gardenia. Now I just have to find a place with enough sun to plant the gardenia in.
We went down to the river to check out the situation and there weren't too many people there but Jessie, who got out to look, said that the water appeared to be mucky which is very unusual and we decided to skip it today. It was overcast while we picked so we weren't dying of the heat as we usually are after a wandering in the blueberries. We came back to my house and once again I broke isolation rules and Jessie and I both felt very guilty but I didn't hug anyone and I didn't kiss anyone and I didn't eat or drink after anyone and there you go. The boys played with toys and we read a few books. Levon wanted the dump truck book again and so I read it. One of the pages has a truck which is "too big to go on a road."
Levon asked why it would be too big. I, having no real idea, told him that it would break the road because it was so big.
He thought about it for a second and then in his old-man two-and-a-half year old voice said, "Oh. I get you."
August did some puzzles in record time and it reminded me of when Owen was a jig saw puzzle master. He asked me to make a video to send to Boppy, showing him the puzzles and his explanation and so I did.
His Boppy reminded me in a text back that the number of reported Covid cases in Florida was the highest it's been yesterday. No surprise there as all of the people who were exposed as they partied in public places for Memorial Day are now becoming ill. We can only assume that the protests, no matter how hard the protesters try to remain masked and socially distant, will expose many, many more. And so yes, it is absolutely time for me to step back and stop taking foolish chances with my family.
Fuck.
When they were about to leave today, August said, "MerMer's are for loving on you."
Sure I cried. Who wouldn't have?
I gave them treaties, as they call them, when they got in their car seats. A Hershey's kiss apiece. They are content with just that small amount of chocolate wrapped in pretty foil.

Jessie picked me one of the blooming Glory Bower blossoms before she left. Remember the Glory Bower? Probably the worst invasive in my yard. But this is why people plant them in the first place:

They are, admittedly, a glory. 

And evil. 

Speaking of evil I cannot, even now, believe what Donald Trump said today about George Floyd. He was having a little press conference to let the world know that unemployment is down and said, and I quote, "Hopefully, George is looking down right now in saying this is a great thing happening for our country. A great day for him, a great day for everybody."

Because employment is down. 

The man is so much more despicable than we could have ever imagined and we sure imagined some despicable shit. 

Meanwhile the police are taking masks and cell phones from protesters, injuring people, killing people. 

Killing people. 

And Trump used the phrase "dominate the streets." 

I've got that tomato pie in the oven. I messed up the pastry while doing a pre-baking but hell, it's got tomatoes and cheese and mayonnaise and an egg and bacon and shallots and garlic in it. A heart attack in a dish with some tomatoes, basically. 

We are not exactly eating cake as the streets burn but instead a savory pie and I am sure that Marie Antoinette would approve. 

Oh, if we only still had the guillotine. 

And hey! It's time for a martini! 

Y'all, I'm scared. I'm scared of it all. But I tell you what- my grandkids think that Mer's are here to love on you. I've done my job. They ALL know I love them. And right now, at this point in my life, all I feel like I can do is to love as fiercely and purely as I know how. 

So. Yeah. 

Love...Ms. Moon