Poked, Prodded, And Another P Word That I Won't Say In Order To Preserve Proper Sensibilities

Today turned from all-gray to all-blue and what a joy that is. The temperature has been dropping all day though, and it's going to get down in the low thirties tonight. Still- far from what so much of the country is experiencing. 

I drove into town this morning after ingesting my 32 ounces of water and the whole experience was fine and went quickly which did not mean that I didn't have a bit of a panic attack but I survived. The tech was the same lady and she was just as nice this time as she was the last. At this point in my life I do not have a great deal of modesty left but it's better to feel comfortable with the person one is getting such an exam from than not. The anxiety I had was far more about the simple fact of being out in the world than it was about the procedure itself. 
Does that make sense?

After it was over I even thought about driving to a thrift store. I mean- I'm pretty safe at this point, I think, and of course I'd wear a mask but I just couldn't handle it. I wanted to get done what I had to get done and get home. Will I ever be able to go out in public again and have it be a pleasant experience? I am starting to wonder. Am I broken? I always used to joke that I'm not agoraphobic, I just love my house and yard. It wasn't really that funny then and it's even less so now.
But I did do a quick Costco run and then Publix which of course took forever. I bought everything from tortillas to socks to strawberries to a meat thermometer. I bought blue-cheese stuffed olives and I bought a gluten-free, dairy-free pizza for the boys who are coming over tomorrow. Jessie's trying to figure out why August has continual stuffed up sinuses and so she's trying a dietary change. I bought asparagus and I bought chicken bosoms (as my Sue used to say). Hell, I bought hot dogs!
There's a story behind that. A very short one. I asked Mr. Moon this morning on my way out the door what he wanted for supper. 
"Hot dogs?" he said/asked. We NEVER eat hotdogs but what the hell? I got some of the expensive ones with no nitrates, etc., and I hope they're good. I bought hot dog buns. I bought some of that nasty canned hot dog chili. And on top of all of that, I cut one of my cabbages to make cole slaw.

It hurt my heart to do it but I have waited too long to cut cabbages too many times, only to find them bug-laced and slug-infested. I do believe that this one is a perfect cabbage and I will try to make the best coleslaw ever made to honor it. 

So yes, August and Levon are coming over tomorrow. Jessie needs to do shopping and I'm sure she needs some time to herself and I need to see those boys. I also need to see Lily and her kids and I think it'll be okay to have them over soon to visit INSIDE the house. I am yearning for that. The weather has been so bad that we haven't been able to have our outdoor visits. It'll be so sweet to let them run around in my house and find their favorite toys and books and sit in the kitchen and eat Mermer snacks. And I am going to hug them and hug them and hug them. Sounds like heaven to me. 

And on Thursday, the guy is coming to install my stove. I honestly can't believe that's going to happen. But I think it is. I hope it is. I hope that hauling a six hundred pound stove from the garage to the house is even possible. I hope that no one is injured. I hope that when they pull the old stove away from the wall I don't die of shame when we see what's behind there. 
I hope that I cook many beautiful meals on that stove. My traditional first meal in a new place or on a new stove is a pot of pinto beans and rice with cornbread. I have a bag of pintos in the cabinet at the ready and a jug of buttermilk in the refrigerator to make cornbread. 

What a day. So much excitement. So much to look forward to. 

Life in Lloyd. 

Love...Ms. Moon

When We Are Faced With The Primeval

That is the Buddha who sits in front of the house that burned. When I walked past it today I decided to take its picture. There was no one there to watch me do it, no one's privacy I was invading. Just ashes. And Buddha. 

It's wild here in Lloyd this evening. It's just started raining again and we are having gusts of wind and flashes of lightening. Branches are  occasionally falling with a thud, sending a reflexive shock through my body, a straightening of the spine for sure. And to add to the the excitement, the frogs are singing frantically, as if to whip themselves into a frenzy. I would love to share a tiny video but for whatever reason, I can't seem to transfer video to YouTube anymore which is how I always got them here before. I just need to research that a bit. 

I got a text this morning from the place where I go to get all of my diagnostic testing that I have an appointment tomorrow for an ultra-sound of my uterus. Good thing they texted me because although I had a vague memory of being told that I needed to get one in February, I was clueless about exactly when in February. It's just a follow-up since they changed my hormones. I am certainly not looking forward to this appointment but I'm not worried about it. And although of course I will be masked, I won't feel nearly as much anxiety about catching the virus in the waiting area, having had both of my vaccines with a good eleven or so days since the second one. I wonder how that will feel. I hope I get the same tech I got last time. She was so professional and thoughtful, too. You have to drink 32 ounces (i.e., a quart) of water an hour before the appointment time and HOLD IT and as soon as I'd gotten the part of the exam where my bladder had to be full, the tech told me I could go pee which was a relief. 
Oh, the joys of being a woman! 
So I'll be heading to town tomorrow morning and might as well stop off at Publix while I'm there and get the things on my list. 
That'll be a fun day, right?

Today has been a domestic day. I walked and did laundry, took the trash and went to the post office. I've been working on supper on and off most of the afternoon. I've got a venison pot roast in the oven with carrots and onions, potatoes and green beans. And garlic. Lots of garlic. Venison is so lean that a roast has to be cooked for hours and hours to render it into tenderness. It's strange to think that in a few days I might be cooking on (and in) a new stove. I wonder if I will fall in love with it. I hope so. For what we're paying for it, it should be extremely love-worthy. One just never knows, though. The one experience I've had with a high-end stove was certainly a disappointment, as I've said before. 
We shall see. And of course, this is all so embarrassingly a first-world situation. 
I picked a beautiful basketful of greens for salads before the rain started and washed them four times. They are now wrapped in a dishtowel in the refrigerator and I'll put what I don't use tonight in a plastic bag for the next salads. Mr. Moon and I swoon a bit every night when we eat those salads and we always talk about how this is our favorite time of the year as pertains to the garden. Sometimes I make all vegetable salads and sometimes I make greens-and-fruit salads and they are all perfectly perfect. Sometimes I toast pine nuts or sesame seeds or pecans to throw in but however I make them I give them my full respect and attention because the greens deserve that. 

Within the next day or two we will be planting the potatoes and sugar snap peas. I hope that this year we can figure out how to save some of the peas from the marauding chickens who love those sweet pods as much as we do. Actually, they love the vines as well. Chickens know what's good. 

Suddenly, the wind has died down, the rain is letting up, and the sky has gone from dark gray to a sort of greenish-yellow, silver gray. Although it's almost seventy degrees now, it is supposed to drop down to 39 tonight which is quite tropical compared to what most of the country is experiencing. This storm we've just had came from the south while all of the cold is coming, quite obviously, from the north. This post, from our Ellen, is putting a whole lot of things in perspective for me. We usually get the weather that they get two days later but in this case, it doesn't look like we will. I don't know what I'd do if we were faced with temperatures in the low teens. I truly do not. 

It's hard to keep up with life these days on every level. Or at least I find that to be true. I guess we just hold on and try to ride the waves. 
And pray for no tsunamis, casting our spells and creating our charms as best we can.  

Love...Ms. Moon

Heart Day

I slept until ten o'clock this morning which is unheard of but I did and I don't feel guilty. I was dreaming that I was waiting tables in a restaurant with three stories, stairways everywhere. The owner/chef was so very nice and she gave me cocaine, even though I did not want it. Just a little bit. She also fed me before service started which was when the real problems began.
I had no idea of where anything was or how anything worked. May was working there and other sweet people but everyone seemed to assume that I could figure everything out on my own. I couldn't! May had to show me where to get ice water. I had a table of five older ladies who finally lost patience with me when I took forever to get back to the table with their receipts and change. I had no idea how to run a credit card! I promised a table of people who were obviously sick and tired of reading their menus that I would be back to check on them in a minute. 
Check on them? They didn't even have their beverages!

Thank goodness I don't have to support myself by being a server. I've done it before and it's one of the hardest jobs on earth. A good, professional server is a skilled worker and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Throw in the miles you have to walk in a shift, the heavy trays, the way people treat you, the fact that you get blamed for everything the kitchen doesn't get right, and it's a wonder that anyone does it. And if you don't have a mind and memory like a steel trap you are fucked. 
Everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE should have to wait tables at some point in their lives. I think about all of the servers working today for Valentine's and I feel as if I should go light a candle for them. First of all, the people they're waiting on are, by definition, quite possibly assholes because...covid.
Secondly, everyone wants and feels they deserve a romantic and magical experience on Valentine's and if they don't get it, guess who they're going to blame?

This is really not what I came here to talk about today. 

I have no idea what I came here to talk about today.

So yes, it's Valentine's Day. A day that we somehow always seem to spend with Lon and Lis which is always wonderful. We share Sweetheart's Day so happily with them. So many sweet memories. Lis and I talked on the phone this morning and giggled at some of them. It's so hard to believe that it's been a year since we've seen those beloved people. That was our last outing before the pandemic. 

Sigh.

Today was different, of course. 
It's been raining and chilly and still eternally grey. I found a little heart with a hand-written note on it beside my coffee cup when I did finally get up. Mr. Moon told me that he'd been checking on me to see if I was still breathing. I made us a fine breakfast and then spent hours on the crossword and he took out the old exhaust fan above the stove because believe it or not, my new stove may possibly get installed this coming week. When I could take my kitchen back, I made him a chocolate cake in heart-shaped pans. I don't really bake sweets very much anymore but I wanted to do that, at least, for my love. He said he wanted "fluffy" chocolate icing on it and I did my best. He sliced the layers in half so that there are four layers and I made enough of the hopefully fluffy-enough frosting to make me laugh as I piled it on the cake. As always, my cake looks like a child made it. I first started making cakes when I was a child and I really haven't progressed much.

"If you want presentation," I told my man, "Hire Lis Williamson."
And it's true. 

I'm rather amazed that the layers haven't all slid apart. 

Funny how when you've been married as long as we have, you can still do things that let your love know you love them. You just do things like take out range hoods instead of buying jewelry. Probably if you'd told me that even ten years ago I might have rolled my eyes so hard they threatened to fall out of my head but now it makes perfect sense. 

There are all sorts of lovers' gifts and we have given some nice ones to each other today. The beginning of stove replacement, a very chocolatey cake, and other things. 

I do not need more jewelry but I can never get too much love. 

Sweetness to all of you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Weather Report

A friend sent me a picture of what appeared to be a snowy enchanted forest this morning. She lives just about as far from where I live as anyone can and still be in the continental United States. So I sent her a picture of what my yard looked like at that moment. 
Not very enchanted, is it? Well, the cardinal has scarlet magic. And the chickens have their own pragmatic voodoo but overall, it's just a gray, wet, rainy day in North Florida. 

I haven't been able to figure out my mood today. I do not feel especially depressed. Maybe a little. And maybe a tiny bit anxious. Some sadness but not about anything in particular. Perhaps it was the dream I woke up from this morning. Lately when I've dreamed of my mother, she has become a more glamorous character than she ever was in real life. Beautiful hair and lovely figure and very fine clothes. Somehow there is a storyline wherein she is married to a man who is and who is not my stepfather. I could probably sort this all out if I really thought about it. But they travel a lot, my mother and this man, and they are spending vats of money I didn't know she had. Always her money, not his. And I get so angry at her, whether for all of this expensive galavanting or because she appears to be so young and carefree or because her house has become filled with trash and items hoarded by the man, I do not know. 
Perhaps all of that. 
I know I cannot stand the man. I abhor him. And I tell her that. 
In this morning's dream we were at a family reunion of sorts. My cousins and my uncles (her brothers) were there and in the presence of all of them she told me, "I knew." 
"You knew what?" I asked her.
"I knew he was abusing you."

I was stunned. Not because she had known, but because she had admitted it. 

Well. Once again- no need to call Freud. 

So yes, that could be the reason I have been in such a strange mood and then I spent the entire day listening to the tying up of the impeachment trial and then the vote and although it was exactly what I had expected, I was still flattened. Perhaps because there is a part of me which does still believe in magic, in fairness, in justice. 
In my country. 
Silly me. Grow up, little girl. Grow up. 
And there is another part of me which thinks I probably wasted an entire day listening to it all, hoping for a different outcome despite knowing there would not be one. I did work on August's blanket but that too, is rather depressing. My embroidery looks like a five year old child did it. And as I hold the blanket and push the needle in and out, my left wrist hurts and I am reminded of my age and of all the injuries that have befallen me. There are lumps and knobs in my joints and knuckles now that amuse and astound me, both.  
My ribs ached this morning when I woke up. I am learning that rainy days will do that. 

And this is where I turn and say, "But. However. And yet."
And list all of the ways that I am so very, very lucky and so very, very blessed. 
And I am and I know it and I am grateful. 
But some days you just have to sit with the feelings and fullness of it all. To let it pierce the armor of blessings and goodness and gifts and feel it. To gently rock your own heart in your own arms and then tenderly replace it in your chest when it is quieted. 

The rain is falling gently, gently. It is not cold, it is not warm. It is not day, it is not yet night. I am not especially happy nor am I deeply unhappy. I am certainly not feeling joyful but I am not overly sad. I am at once content and itchy with discontent. I am blessed but I am in no way special. 

I am a human being. I am a woman in her sixties watching and noting with sometimes dispassionate observance of how she is slowly becoming old. I am aware that the same soul which inhabited me when I was a child inhabits me still. I am a woman whose granddaughter's soul is the same one which will live within her when she is my age. 

As I write this there is another (the same?) male cardinal on the feeder, taking his evening meal in the drizzle. 

This is life in Lloyd tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

My Sweetheart Is Home

Well, it's Friday again. The sheets are clean, the bed is made, martini glasses are in the freezer and the man is home. 
He made it! Camero in tow, he is well, I am glad. 

The picture above is one I took on my walk today. I love the symmetry of the doors and flowers and hearts and wreaths and then that absolutely random Smirnoff box. It is color coordinated. Somebody dropped off something, I assume. 
I did not want to take a walk AT ALL. I wasn't in the mood. It was humid and almost misting rain, it was warm again. But, I knew if I didn't I'd regret it all day and also, I wanted to drop off some eggs at No Man Lord's house. I have so many eggs right now and I think he probably appreciates them. I mean, he did ask me for some hens. 
So I walked down there and left the eggs on a cinder block in his yard because there was no sign of him which was fine because he isn't a big talker. To me, at least. Then I walked down to the county line and on my way back, the eggs had moved, someone was unloading some things from a truck and another guy pulled up right as I was passing. There's a lot going on at No Man Lord's house some days. People bring him things and he sells them. Or uses them. Or whatever. 

I talked over an hour to one of my oldest friends on the phone today. Oh, how we laughed! We've known each other since 6th grade and we've kept in touch all that time. It's a joy. She's a joy. She's been married to the same man even longer than I've been married and she has two grown children, three grandchildren. We have a lot to talk about. I love that woman. 

For the rest of the day I just did little piddly stuff around here. I watered the plants inside. 

This is in the mudroom where I have a group of baby plants and plants too special for me to trust outside in the winter. That little nook cheers me every time I walk by it which is approximately forty-seven times a day. It's not only the mudroom but also now the laundry room so I spend time there. 

The tea olive is blooming again and I am intoxicated every time I walk outside. 

I've long since run out of words to describe their fragrance. Like apricots and heaven. That's as close as I can come to any sort of description and it does not do them justice. 

I had a feeling that my trillium was probably up and look!

Those are plants that I am ever so glad that someone planted here. 
Unlike most of the rest of them. 
I wonder if I should try and separate those five at the top and spread the love around a little? I should research that. I'd hate to kill them. 

My camellias are still going strong although the Pink Perfections are slowing way down. I remain completely enamored with picking them and putting them in vases. 

I have a memory of being at Posey's once which involves camellias. Such a tender memory. Posey's was a joint on the St. Mark's river which served oysters, boiled shrimp, smoked mullet, and beer. There was hot sauce, cocktail sauce, and saltine crackers. That was the menu. And it was hugely popular. The building it was in tilted and swayed and threatened to fall into the river but it drew crowds, especially on the weekends and you might find yourself sitting near FSU professors and students, local fisher folks, bikers, Tallahassee la-di-dahs, and well, people like me. Hippies. My ex-husband I used to go down there frequently when Hank and May were little and Mrs. Posey even crocheted them little shawls. The camellia memory comes from a time when Mr. Posey had cancer and the word had gotten out and it was known that he was going to die. So we had gone down there one weekday and there was hardly anyone there but us, and Mr. Posey came in with a huge armful of camellias. He so lovingly laid them out to show his wife, naming each one, his face illuminated with their beauty. 
I will never forget that. 
He did die soon thereafter. And Posey's got flooded and half washed away in a hurricane many years later and it's naught but a memory now. 

I suppose I'll end here. Except for this. I just can't stop. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Follow Me For More Household Tips

That, my friends, is how I get seeds into the bird feeder. Although those tongs are ludicrously long, I can still barely reach the platform where the seeds need to go with them. I bought those tongs because I wanted new tongs and they were marked down at Publix and I never would have chosen to buy such long tongs (Long Tongs would be a good band name, don't you think?) but I have used them to reach things on high shelves far more than I have used them for actual tonging purposes. My children and grandchildren laugh at me when I do this but I am used to being a source of amusement for them. I do have a step ladder but why bother with that when I can just reach for my handy long tongs and grab that oatmeal right off the shelf with them? 

Needs must, as our beloved Brit friends say. Or at least Brit Lit would have me believe they do. Do y'all really say that? I hope so. It sounds so cheerful and self-reliant. 

Yesterday I had so much energy and got so much done. I was amazed at the end of the day how good I felt after all the physical activity I'd done. The little health widget on my phone said that I had taken well over 10,000 steps and I believed it. I hardly stopped moving all day. I was about to google, "Does the covid vaccine make people feel great?" I felt years younger than I have been feeling lately. 
It was wonderful!
So. You know what happened today.
I haven't felt bad or particularly tired but I sure haven't matched yesterday's activity level. The only walk I took was to the post office. I cleaned the hen house and put the poopy hay on some roses that never really bloom anyway. I noticed that the mulberry tree is getting the tiniest green tips on its branches. It will be busting out leaves before I know it. I finally attacked part of the little garden bed beside the kitchen where the bananas grow and where we got the cherry laurel cut down. In theory, I am going to make an herb and flower garden there, now that it will get more light. Of course there are things growing in the bed that are...invasive. Didn't see that coming, did you? I have two big patches of what may be turmeric growing and they just looked horrendous. I have no memory whatsoever of planting these things, whatever they are, and most of the leaves got frozen and turned brown and dry and I've been meaning to do something about them for quite awhile so today I got out my pruners and shovel and attacked one of the clots of them, listening to the impeachment trial via my phone and ear pods the whole time. 
Now a lot of the things I do aren't really that strenuous. Trimming things, pulling weeds in the garden, cleaning out the hen house, planting vegetables. They're just basically leisurely acts that don't require a lot of physical strength or activity. But digging up thickly rooted plants is not in that category. I would dig for awhile and then get down on my knees and pull and yank and then get up and dig some more. The roots on this plant don't go down too far but they are dense and don't want to give up their dirt home. 

I had to take several breaks and here's Miss Alice scratching about to see what I've uncovered while I was taking one of them. I finally got that clump done, dumped the dead trimmings over beside the garage where we leave such things, and put the roots in bags to do something else with because if I put them anywhere near the ground, they'll just take root and take off and I'd have the same problem, just in a different place. 
Don't ask me how I know this. 
There's a whole other bunch of them over where the bananas are growing but I just couldn't face that today. I came in and took a shower and settled on the couch and tried to find something on Netflix to watch and after about half an hour of that (I wish that was hyperbole but it's not) I gave up. 

I have changed clothes four times today. Again- no exaggeration. It was coolish when I got up and so I dressed for that. When I went to the post office I received a pair of overalls that I'd ordered from the Gap and I brought them home and tried them on and I have no idea whose body they were made for. Perhaps an orangutan's. However, because they make it almost impossible to send anything back and because they were on major sale, I just kept them on and changed to a tank top to work outside in. After my shower I changed into a different pair of overalls and a different tank top and now it is getting cooler and so I am wearing the original pair of overalls I put on this morning and a shirt with sleeves. 
Do you do this? I know I do it because of the way the temperature here can vary from morning to afternoon to evening, especially this time of year, and because my activities vary as well. God knows I don't want to wear my GOOD overalls to do yard work in. 

I just talked to Mr. Moon. He's on his way home but still in Louisiana and will stop for the night soon. It was good to talk to him and it will be even better to see him tomorrow. He has his Camaro and he's a happy man. 

The frogs are screaming. I think I'm going to go make some risotto, just because I can. I believe I still have enough energy to do some intense stirring. Who knows? I may sleep until noon tomorrow.
I doubt it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Signs of Spring, History Unfolding

When I went out for a walk today, I realized that this large redbud tree which is always one of the first of its kind to bloom around here, is in full glorious flowering. Even against the gray sky it was luminous. 

Mr. Moon took off for Houston before I ever walked out the door and I swear, he was trembling with the anticipation of his adventure. I made him some breakfast burritos and kissed him good-bye and told him to come home to me safely and by golly, to stop and get a room and get real sleep and that I love him and all those things you tell a loved one when they take off on a journey. As if our words held magical spells of protection within them. He had a cooler full of things like pimento cheese and a container of chili to heat up somewhere with a microwave and he had crackers and granola bars and apples and nuts. And coffee. Lots of coffee. 
I spoke to him a little while ago and he sounded fine and cheerful, just heading down I-10. "It's boring," he said. "There's hardly a curve in it." 

And I've had a good day. It's been hard to peel me away from listening to the impeachment trial. I've done that as I've walked and taken trash, swept and mopped floors, washed rugs and towels and other laundry. It's so unbelievable how close the rioters came to the lawmakers certifying the votes in the Capitol. Unbelievable and terrifying. It seems to me that the house managers are presenting a case that is so undeniably true with real-time quotes from Trump and video from the rioters themselves that the idea of anyone voting not to convict him seems ludicrous. It's a damn miracle that Pelosi and Pence are still alive. The evidence that Trump instigated the whole thing is irrefutable. That he knew in advance what was going to happen. That he, in fact, called for it to happen and was thrilled when it did. 
What I wonder is how in the world the Capitol security was so taken by surprise. How they had not been prepared in the least for something that was hardly kept quiet in the planning. 

I've listened to all the testimony I could and although it appears that there will not be enough votes to convict, I have to believe that those who vote against it are as much to blame as Trump himself. As the rioters themselves. 
There will be blood on their hands and they will go down in history as traitors. 

Here are some narcissi whose picture I also took on my walk. 

My PlantSnap app tells me that the variety here is known as Chinese Sacred Lily. Isn't that beautiful? 

I walked straight west down Old Lloyd Road today. No sign of my neighbor out front so the coast was clear. I saw No Man Lord but he was hunched over his Bible, possibly asleep and I did not try to disturb him. A house has burned down and how I didn't realize this when it happened is beyond me. It's not very far from my house. Closer than No Man Lord's place. It was an old wooden house, leaning a bit from age but someone did live there, I think. I am not sure. It's a pile of ashes and burnt boards now and I pray that no one was in the house when it caught fire. The Buddha statue which was always in front of it is still there but the stuffed toy dog who sat on Buddha's lap is gone. A line of plastic chairs delineates the yard border and the pen which used to hold a hog is empty. Perhaps no one did live there. It was in bad shape and I only saw a person there infrequently. We traded waves and I moved on. 

There are so many stories in this world, in this life. Even Lloyd, quiet as it is, has hundreds, I am sure. Thousands, if you go back in time. 

This is not the fally-down house but it is an old house that is slowly losing its struggle with age, with gravity. Who knows how many stories it alone has witnessed? 

Not me. 

And my story continues in this even older house which has seen more than I can imagine, held more lives within it than I can know. Right now it is filled with light and camellias, and smells of vinegar and Fabuloso, while a load of bleached things are tumbling in the dryer. Tonight I will sleep alone except for a cat. Hopefully. Probably this one. 

I feel as though he was judging my mopping efforts. He probably was. Who could be more judgmental than a cat? As if they ever do anything more than adorn a bed, a couch, a chair as they sleep. 
And yet, my life would be so much poorer and lonelier without them. 

And my chickens. 

And now it's time to go shut the door on the hen house so that the dears will be safe as they sleep. 

You be safe too, okay?

Love...Ms. Moon

Grandfather, Car Restorer, Husband, Man With A Plan, Car Guy

Today was another one of our drizzly, fish-belly gray days, not very chilly but what I suppose you could call "sodden" with the humidity. Jessie texted to see if she could bring the boys out one day this week and I texted back "Yes please! Today?"
And so she did. 
The joy I feel when those little men burst in the door is as shiny as a brand new helium ballon floating on its string, my heart that light too. And then there is the goodness of hugging Jessie, of hearing the boys' voices, of watching and listening as they show us what they have brought in their backpacks. Today Levon brought his toy drill which has all sorts of attachments and goes in reverse too, to screw and unscrew a recalcitrant nut, a bolt, a screw. August's backpack was stuffed with My Little Pony's, which he adores, as well as his current favorite book that he got from the library and which his mother has told him she will not read to him ONE MORE TIME. It's a My Little Pony book and I did read it to him and Lord, I can understand why she's drawn a line. But it's very sweet and ends with hugging mother and father and baby unicorn ponies and you have to love that. 
They did some playing with toys and then there was lunch and TV watching with Boppy which made them all so happy, especially Boppy, I think. Levon has become enamored with stroking his grandfather's beard which has reached Covid length. I got to chat with Jessie some and we talked about everything from marriage to being a mother to...oh, I don't know. Just talk. Are we not all starved for conversation? 
One of the things we watched on television was an episode of "Shaun the Sheep" which really is a genius show. On this particular episode a mother sheep forgot to keep track of her baby which reminded me of a dream I had last night. It seems that in virtually all of my dreams, there is a baby which I live in fear of losing. This must be a universal worry- I even see it in chickens as the mother hens cluck all day long keeping their chicks informed as to where they are and the babies peep and peep and peep which lets the mama keep track of them. The baby in my dreams changes from dream to dream and I generally do not lose the child. That is not the essence of the dream. Not the main plot line. But the presence of a little one and the concern about them is a constant. I absolutely know that when I am very old, if I do achieve that number of years, I will be one of those old ladies who has a baby doll in her lap at all times. I have a friend who posts pictures of his beloved mother on FB and she is in an assisted living facility and she always has her baby with her. It seemed to me that no one wanted to comment on this as if it were embarrassing but I spoke up and said something about how I loved seeing those pictures. How happy she always looks with her baby. And he commented back that yes, she loves that doll and that it is so important to her. 
I told Jessie today that I should probably just go ahead and pick out my baby now. 
Because I am going to want one. I am going to need one. I have a feeling that I'll even be trying to nurse that baby. I can hear my frustrated aids now, saying, "Miss Mary, if you don't stop nursing that baby of yours, we're going to have to put a bra on you!"
My greatest nightmare- having to wear a bra in the nursing home. 
So okay, that's not my greatest fear but Jesus hear me now- please don't make me wear a bra when I'm ancient. Are you listening, children? 

So here's some news. Mr. Moon bought a car today. A 2015 Camaro. For himself. Which is fine. 
But.
The car is in Houston. 
The car has no motor.
He has three days to pick it up before they start charging him for storage.
Guess what my husband is doing as we speak? 
Did you guess working on his trailer and truck? 
Ding, ding, DING! You win the prize. 
I will be quite honest with you. I do not always understand my husband. This is to be a project car that he already has a plan and a goal for along with a huge desire to work on, to restore, to...do whatever it is that men do with cars without motors. It's all perfectly laid out in his head. 
And of course I'm like, "Uh, honey. What about all those other project cars in the garage?"
Except that I was not quite that sweet about it. I didn't curse. I didn't scream. I just laid out my feelings. He felt terrible. I then apologized and told him that of course he can do whatever he wants to but that I would not be driving to Houston with him. And that makes me feel terrible. But I have no desire to make that drive during covid times even if we are probably pretty darn immune at this point, not to mention that this is a little bit of short notice to recruit someone to house/chicken/cat sit. But mostly, the idea of making a trip like that now slams me so hard into anxiety that I can barely breathe. 

Sigh.

Well. Adventures in marriage. Adventures in empathy. Adventures in understanding. Adventures in life. 

Adventures in love. 

Here's August, standing by a car being slightly intimidated by Miss Annie who was way too close to jumping up and taking a beak full of the apple the boy was trying to eat in peace.

Liberace was showing interest too. 

Time to go make supper. Isn't always about food whether we are humans or chickens? I think so. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Surviving

You know your life has narrowed to the merest slit of an existence when you order a new clothespin bag and one hundred new wooden clothespins and they come in the mail and you get excited, putting your beautiful new clothespins in your beautiful new bag. 
And yet, here we are. 

Ooh boy. 
The sky was blue and the sun was shining this morning. It was chilly but looking to get warmer fast. I hung my clothes out with my lovely new clothespins and then, having no excuse whatsoever not to, decided to take a little walk. I headed down the sidewalk with a left turn out of my driveway but saw my Trumper neighbor talking on her phone by her car in front of her fence and turned around and walked the other way. I was NOT up for that today. 
For years and years I walked a certain route which is not all available to me now as part of it has been closed off but I could take another path to get to the same area which is mostly pretty and which I haven't seen in quite awhile so I did that. Some things have actually changed but the place where the violets used to bloom is still there and the violets have begun their cheerful opening. 

I was very, very sad to see that new clearing has occurred in another place where there had been a few gorgeous wild azaleas. Cleared and fenced. I guess someone bought that property. 
Fuck people and our insane need to cut shit down. 
I should have dug one of the azaleas up years ago when they were still there. At least it would be alive now. But of course, I am not the sort of person who just randomly goes around digging up wild plants to bring home. I know plenty of people do that but it makes me feel quite uneasy. What right do I have to disturb what nature has been growing on her own for so long? 

Anyway, la-di-dah. I took my walk, I didn't have to talk to anyone, I saw violets. 

And then I went to town. 
It had been over a week since I'd gone. Twelve or thirteen days, I guess. In that time the only part of civilization I've been in was the health department to get my vaccine. 
It was a culture shock. I did not really handle it all well.
First I went to the Co-op where May works. I needed a few things and I needed to see my girl and there she was, right there when I walked in. It was so good to see her. We talked for a few minutes and then she had to get back to her work and I got my nutritional yeast and Dr. Bronners and the toothpicks we like and so forth and I kept finding myself standing in aisles, trying to figure out what to buy and mostly deciding not to buy anything on that aisle and then I checked out and when I told May good-bye, I teared up like a little kid. 
"It's almost harder to see you and not be able to hug you than it is not to see you," I said, my eyes welling, sobs threatening to escape my throat, thickening my voice. 
She understood. May is more like me than any of my children, probably. In temperament, at least. 

As I just texted her a few minutes ago we all go around these days saying, "Oh, I'm fine. Everything's fine. You know- it's weird and sometimes it's hard but really, I'm fine!" 

And then something happens and that delicate shell, that wall of protection cracks and we realize that no, we're not really fine. This IS really hard and that's all there is to it. But we can't walk around, we can't bear it without that shell, that wall. 

It's not just our noses and mouths and hands we need to protect. It's our hearts we have to protect and that is so much harder. There are no masks or hand sanitizer or soap that will keep our hearts safe from the grief of not being able to hold each other. I suppose though that there is distance. With distance we can pretend to ourselves that we're not really missing someone we can't even see. 
And this is not healthy. 

So many grandparents have missed out on what may be half of their young grandchildren's lives. Or a fifth, as it is with us and Magnolia. And we've been able to see Lily's children but an hour here and an hour there just isn't the same as hanging out and doing things and eating together and reading books and listening to them talk and watching and seeing how they've changed and what they're now capable of. 
And that is just the selfish part of my grief for this pandemic's effects. The children have missed out on classroom experience and socializing and playing with other kids and being with cousins and aunts and uncles who love them. It's all so, so much. How do we even begin to acknowledge the parents who have had no breaks for a year, who are barely hanging on but do hang on because there is no choice? Add in the financial woes and difficulties and it becomes an untenable situation. 

God DAMN Donald Trump and his making light of this virus and his refusal to do what the scientists and doctors advised him to do from the very beginning. Damn him and his minions and supporters who decided that not wearing a mask was a way to express their freedom. How many deaths have occurred that need not have? How much longer will this situation go on and even get worse as the virus mutates because people were convinced by a big orange baby that it was all a hoax?

Well.

I'm just tired. And exhausted. By the time I was checking out of Publix I could hardly think. I had become clumsy and lurching. The cashier, trying to be nice to me, to be a good cashier, told me that I could get two small boxes of the band-aids I was buying with a coupon that she would give me, for three dollars cheaper and the thought of sending someone to go and get the two small boxes was more than I could handle and I said, "No. Really. It's okay. I'm about to have a panic attack and I just need to finish up here and get home," and that wasn't fair because it made her feel bad and I could have just said something like, "Oh, that's all right, I really need to get home," without any explanation. On top of everything, I've lost whatever social grace I may have ever had and honey, that ain't much. 

So. What a day. I guess at the very least I broke out of my rut, my inaction, my isolation. 

And I got to see my daughter. 

This has all taken its toll on all of us. Even those of us who are in the best positions of all- the ones who haven't been financially drained, who can afford to stay at home, who have a nice home to stay in, who have loved ones that we can talk to, be with, do things with, hug, kiss, be comforted by and offer comfort to. Still, it's hard. 

Everything will look better in the morning. It almost always does. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Time To Discuss The Stones A Little

I have zero pictures today. The sun shone zero times. I did zero laundry. However, I did gather eleven eggs and a nice basket of spinach. I worked on August's blanket which, at this pace, should be done before he gets his driver's license but not by much. I watched about three episodes of Call the Midwife. 
Let me stop here. WHO THE HELL IS DOING THE MAKE-UP ON THAT SHOW? 
I think it could be Donald Trump's make-up artist. Everyone has orange powder caked on their faces. Even the nuns. I'm sorry but English nuns should not have orange faces. Their faces should match their whatever-those-things-they-wear-on-their-heads are. You know- those white nun scarves. Especially nuns who are midwives because midwives spend a great deal of time indoors, waiting for babies to arrive. 
Just my opinion. 
I still love the show, though. They sure have covered a lot of ground on it throughout the years. Today's viewing included contraception for unmarried women, abortion, prostate cancer, Downs Syndrome, adoption, sex addiction and venereal diseases (those two went together), faith, fear, the Olympics, and probably a few other things. 
I'll never forget the time I was watching and the doctor's son asked if he could go see the Rolling Stones play. This was jarring, but historically accurate as to time and place. 
Those boys have been around a long, long time.

There you go. Of course, that's not really now. The "now" photo was taken a few years back. Here's the most recent picture I've seen of Keith recently. 

I hope he's gotten his vaccine. I still hope he outlives me. 

So. Let's see. What else?

Well, I'm going to make pizza tonight. Mr. Moon will be watching the Super Bowl, all by himself, poor thing. I couldn't watch that game if I tried. No, really. I just can't watch sports on TV. Maybe basketball. If I had to. Or someone was paying me. 
A lot of money. 

I just went down a little rabbit hole of watching the halftime show at Super Bowl 2006 because that was the year that the Stones played. It was pretty awesome. I'll never forget watching it here with our neighbors, including their daughter who was about ten at the time. She was really getting into it until they did a close-up of the boys' faces. "Why are they so OLD?" she asked. 
Because they didn't die, would be the answer to that. 

You can watch it here if you have any desire whatsoever. 

Ah well. Obviously I don't have anything to really discuss of deep importance. Here's a picture I just took of the spinach and arugula which is going on the pizza which I better get off my ass to go make. 

How pretty is that? 

Some things are best at their freshest and newest and some things just get better and better with age. 

You can quote me on that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

All Good Here

Remember when we got the old cherry laurel cut down a few months ago? Well, the very tall stump is still standing and Mr. Moon recently put that wedge piece up on top of it and then a few days ago he added that little angel statue which came with the house but took me quite awhile to find as it was covered in weeds. I sort of like the look but our friend Tom keeps saying, "Y'all gotta figure out a way to grind that stump down."
I suppose he's right although I could just plant some jasmine or something on it and in about fifty years it'll all be gone. 
I will be too but that's another story.

We're back to the wet cold today. I'm glad to have clean (albeit generally holey) cashmere. It's been raining on and off since last night and that's made a good day for me to allow myself to be lazy and I have been. No baking, just a little laundry,  a little sweeping, a little nap. I sat on the couch and worked on August's blanket and watched Crip Camp on Netflix which I've been "meaning" to watch since it came out and I'm sorry it took me so long. What a film! It was executive-produced by Barack and Michelle Obama and although I didn't think it was possible, I love them even more now. For those of you who don't know, it's the story of a group of disabled kids who attended a camp in the Catskills in the seventies where the counselors were a diverse and loving band of hippies who treated the campers like the "real" (what a stupid description) people and individuals they were. Out of this group of people who had tasted what it was like to live in a world of inclusion and possibilities, came a wave of advocates for the disabled who helped promote and push the Disability Rights Act to make the country more accessible to the individuals that society had been happy to keep at home, out of sight, and definitely out of mind. 
Or in horrible warehouse-like hospitals where even basic care like feeding and hygiene was a unrealized dream. 
I remember when I first came to Tallahassee and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life after quitting college, I volunteered for a little while at a local place like that. It was called the Sunland Center and to my shame, I was only able to go a few times. 
It was more than I could bear. There were people there with disabilities so profound, both physical and mental, that I could not believe it. And the staff was overwhelmed, completely, by their ratio to patients. It was a shameful testimony to the brutality of humanity towards those who are different. According to this Wikipedia article, the hospital shut down in 1983. For years, the abandoned building was deemed haunted and I can only imagine that it was. Eventually, it was torn down and is now a luxury apartment complex. 
I still wouldn't live there. 
Later on, while I was in nursing school, I did a clinical at the Florida State Hospital in Chattahoochee, Florida, the infamous and still very much in business, facility for the mentally disabled and even in 1983, that was a sobering experience which taught me more about how our society views the disabled of all kinds, the differing of all kinds, than it did about treatment or care. 

Believe me when I say that I will never forget the months I visited there. Not the sound of metal-barred doors clanging shut behind me and certainly not "my" patient- a woman named Sue who told me on the first day, "May-wee. I have pwoblems," after she jumped on my back and scared the crap out of me and who came to be someone who has been formative in my life as someone whose spirit I may have never seen the likes of. 

So with that small amount of first-hand experience, I watched Crip Camp and I laughed and I was in awe and at the end I cried. Mr. Moon was watching it with me and he didn't hear something that someone had said and it took me a good few minutes to repeat it to him because I was just that close to bursting into sobs. 
And I have to add that I don't care what people say or think about hippies these days- it was their philosophy of acceptance, recognition, and respect of all, despite differences of race, creed, gender, and even yes- abilities- that I think fomented the idea in this group of people that they deserved the rights that every other American had. The right to have access to education, society, sidewalks, public transportation, buildings, jobs, and families of their own. And so much more. 

Okay, okay. Yes. I was a hippie. I will die a hippie. And proud to be. 

I have to say that our chicken potpie was delicious last night and I am looking forward to tonight's leftovers. As I told Lis today when I was talking to her, I can't believe it's taken me over sixty years to become proficient at pie dough but it has. The food processor is my friend. And of course, as I also told her- a shit ton of butter makes all the difference. 

Live and learn, and keep on with it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Update

Well, if there was any doubt that I am crazy, it has now been completely erased. 

Ooh boy. 

We woke up this morning about the regular time and my poor husband looked rough. He'd had a headache all night and still had it and his sleep had not been good. His stomach didn't feel that great either. In fact, he couldn't even finish his whole supper last night. He also had body aches and was moving very slowly. He settled in his chair and that's where he's spent most of the day although he reports now that his headache is almost gone and he feels generally better.

I had the mild body aches and was slow, slow, slow. In fact, we both kept laughing at ourselves, moving like what I describe as slug-turtles. As Zen Glen put it, "It's hard to motivate enough to get moving." 
And that's how it felt. In fact, it reminded me of how I felt after I broke my ribs but without the horrible rib pain. I just felt like my body had gone through something that needed extra attention and was instructing me to take it easy. 
And I started out that way. But then I made my sweetie some poached eggs on toast with eggs that were so fresh they were still warm and then I decided that there was an awful lot of laundry to be done. Since it is supposed to be warmer here for a few days I decided to wash my Goodwill cashmere. I have been wearing it almost every day because nothing else keeps me as warm. And it needed washing. So I ran all of that on delicate which is no big deal and not hard to do in any way and then I rolled everything in towels and hung them up and started another load of bedding because it IS Friday and WE MUST HAVE CLEAN SHEETS AND THAT IS THAT! So. Did the sheets and then there were two more loads of just regular stuff that needed doing so all in all, I did four loads of laundry and the bed is remade, all clean and crisp and the sweaters are all hanging and everything else is dried, folded and put away. 

In between this busy-ness I watched the bird feeder where dozens and dozens of finches were flocking to eat, the tiny little birds twittering and fussing and pecking and just generally being merry. All day long this went on and it's been beautiful. 

So then I decided that I really did want a chicken potpie and so dammit, I would make one. Sweet Rachel had offered to bring us potpies from town but I felt up to the task of making my own. 
That is, until I was about half way through the process when I realized that I was being stupid but hell- what are you going to do? Half of the pastry I'd made had already been rolled out, the vegetables were cooking, the chicken cooked, the onions and mushrooms sautéing in the butter. 
I went into the Glen Den and sat in the granny rocker and almost cried, telling my husband that I had indeed overdone. 
"Go lay down, honey," he said.
"I can't!" I wailed. "I'm in the middle of cooking!" 
"What can I do?" he asked. 
"Nothing," I whimpered. And then an idea occurred to me- I would take some Ibuprofen! 
And so I did and before I knew it I was back at it, straining broth and stirring gravy and it all came together and I rolled out the top crust and here's what it looks like as it waits to be baked. 

I hope it's as good as it looks like it will be. 

I think that knowing that I'm not sick, that I'm just having a normal reaction to an immunization has spurred me to more activity than I probably needed to do but I'll be okay. If I still feel a bit punkish tomorrow, I will rest more. 
I'm pretty sure we'll have leftovers. 

So that's been our differing and yet similar reactions to the second dose of the Moderna vaccine. Not so bad, but definitely a reality. I think that Mr. Moon was quite shocked that he was experiencing such fatigue and aching but I kept reminding him that it only means that he is making antibodies galore and so it's all good. And oh! I forgot to mention both of us have sore arms but that seems to have gotten better over the course of the day. 

And now to answer the question I know you are all asking- Are the Moons having martinis tonight?

Oh hell yes. 

If I can wash the sheets and remake the bed, we can have martinis. Supper is ready except for baking and I even already have a sheet of aluminum foil on the rack where I'm going to cook the potpie to catch the drips. My new stove still has not been installed and therein lies an entire story involving the death of the patriarch of the family who owns the appliance store where we bought the stove. Buying local can require more human empathy and understanding than buying from someplace like Lowe's does.
It's okay and I am not impatient. All will eventually come together but until then, I would still like to keep a relatively clean oven. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Vaccine #2

We got up this morning when it was still gray outside, the birds still quiet. We slowly got ready to go to Monticello and we allowed enough time that we were there early and were waiting in the car for our appointment time to go in and the lady in charge at the health department came out and asked us if we had an appointment. We told her we did and she asked what time and we said, "Nine," and she said, "Come on in. We're ready."

The whole experience was just as slick and easy as it was the first time. We got scanned for temperatures, each got our own nurse, went into separate cubicles, a few questions were asked, a few things written down, a paper was signed, we got our shots. Then we were directed out to the lobby, given a piece of paper indicating what time we could leave the parking lot after waiting the requisite fifteen minutes to see if we had an immediate adverse reaction, and then off we went. We came home and I made us breakfast burritos, Mr. Moon got ready and went into work, and I have mostly done nothing. 
I feel fine-ish, just very tired and my arm aches. I managed to clean out the hen house and do some laundry and finish a mask but that was stretched across the whole afternoon. 
An episode of Call the Midwife was watched but I sat on the sofa, not in THE CHAIR because I would have fallen asleep. Which would have been fine, I'm sure, but I think I'd just rather go to bed early tonight. 
Someone forgot to get chicken potpies yesterday but that's all right. He did offer to pick some up when he was in town but I'd already started dinner. An easy, easy dinner. A little pork loin from one of the wild pigs is marinating and will go in the oven along with some sweet potatoes, and I have a combination of collards, mustards, and cabbage leaves simmering on the stove with leeks and tomatoes. 
Life is good. 

That picture above of Maurice was taken yesterday afternoon when I was checking for eggs. I love the way she looks like a little tiger model, her paw just-so as if for a shot on the runway, her eyes slitted against the sun. 

I got eleven eggs today out of fourteen hens including another (this makes three) that I think Violet is laying. I could be wrong. 

The sky had all the blue today, tomorrow it will have all the gray again. It's supposed to rain from 4 a.m. on. But it will be warmer. When we drove to Monticello the fields were white with frost which, as you can imagine, is fairly unusual around here. By the time we drove home, they were back to being green and yellow, handsome black cows grazing against the rising sun. 

All is well. 

Love...Ms. Moon