Learning As I Go

I took that picture of a mimosa tree this morning when I was on my little walk. Here's what the blossom looks like closer up.

I like their pretty little powder puff blossoms. Wikipedia says that it is reportedly psychoactive with the flowers being used to make a tea and that in Chinese medicine it's used for depression. 
This is quite interesting, I think. I wonder how many plants and trees I live amongst that have properties I never would have suspected. 

Mr. Moon's been at his house all day. Yesterday he went upstairs and brought down two twin beds, including the mattresses and frames, a night stand, and all of the mattress pads and quilts that had been on the beds. All of this stuff was bought by him (so bizarre) years and years ago when we were still talking about building a house in Apalachicola. A coworker of his was downsizing and she sold him this oh-so-charming set of early American furniture. 
The man is fixated on early American furniture while I detest it. It probably reminds us both of our childhoods when that style was quite popular and whereas he had a very good childhood, always feeling safe and loved, mine sucked. That may have something to do with it. BUT, he has some workers coming from Tennessee and once again, don't even ask me how THAT happened because although I sort of heard the story, I did not retain it, but they need beds to sleep in while they're being Glen's right-hand men. 

He loaded all that stuff up yesterday but then we got some rain and the radar didn't look so good and he didn't have a tarp so he just backed the trailer into the garage and waited until today to take the beds and bedding over there. He did, however, buy sheets for the beds yesterday at Target. I kid you not. Glen Moon went to Target and bought sheets. Next thing I know he might clean a toilet! 
Not here.

So I haven't even seen him today because he got up before I did, had his breakfast and left. Snapper season begins on Saturday so he'll be leaving tomorrow to go to the coast to be ready to fish on Saturday morning at the crack of dawn with the guy he fishes with. 
I am basically a single woman now, I suppose. 

Sigh.

So as of tomorrow, I will have been on the Zepbound for a week. As the week has progressed, I have been paying close attention to what effects it has had on me and so far, they seem to be nothing short of miraculous. This is not to say that everything about the changes are ones I might have chosen and that mainly concerns my love of cooking. 
It is just harder to get excited about cooking when I don't feel a lot of hunger. And I swear, as I said yesterday, some foods just are not appealing to me now and that isn't just the sugar stuff. No food is calling my name, exactly, and if I thought I was having trouble figuring out what to make for supper before, this is a whole different kettle of gumbo, so to speak. 
Somehow, some way, I have no desire to make or eat things that are not pretty basic and when I say "basic" I mean, quite plainly closer to the dirt as I may have said before. I'm not sure. Salads seem to hold a lot of attraction for me. Soups are good. I still want my cheese toast for breakfast. I'm eating a lot of cottage cheese and fruit which I am enjoying as much as I'd enjoy anything, I guess. But that's good because I have not been eating much fruit for awhile. As I've aged, it's taste has changed for me but the fruit I'm eating right now is fine. I picked these today.

And they are delicious. 

But back to cooking. I am exploring the poke bowl situation and that sounds very good to me. On my shopping list right now I have miso and ginger which I keep forgetting to buy. Tuna's on that list too. Fish is far more appealing to me now than meat is. 

I was thawing out some pork chops for tonight but put them back in the freezer and decided instead to make a sort of eggplant lasagne. I've roasted slices of eggplant in the air fryer and a few tomatoes and I've blended up cottage cheese (dear god), an egg, garlic, oregano, and a little parmesan to go in it. I have some cherry tomato sauce that I made and canned last year that I plan to use in it and I think that will be good. I'll make a salad to go with. 
I feel as if I'm on a steep learning curve right now and who knows what my eventual eating habits will look like? 
For right this second, it appears to me as if my entire relationship with food has changed, virtually overnight. That is powerful and I never would have believed it possible. I told Jessie that today in a text and she answered me with, "We are but chemicals." 

I guess so. 

Here's what I picked today. 

And then I did this.

Eight more pints of green beans. 

And this time I let the pressure go down entirely on its own before opening the canner. No buckled lids. I do believe I may have learned that lesson. 

Mr. Moon is safely home from the lake. He may be out there buying sheets but he still knows where his own bed is. 
I think. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Being Educated By You Guys, Being Examined By My Dermatologist, Being Affected By My Medication

 Here I stand, hat in hand, humbled before you. Turns out that I knew very little about PSA tests. I had NO idea that men are not advised to get them after the age of seventy unless they want to. At that age, results can be misleading and appear to indicate cancer when there is none there or to not detect a cancer if there is. This can lead to excess testing, unnecessary treatments, and anxiety. 
Also, and this one is tough to hear, a limited life span. However, according to what I've been reading, if a man is in good health and the odds are on his side for a longer lifespan, and he wants to, he can opt to get the test. One more tool in the toolbox, I suppose.

So. I'm sure that is very oversimplified but I believe those are the basic facts. And, this I did know- there are many different types of prostate cancers, some of them quite aggressive (the kind Biden has) and some really are not and don't require treatment. This reminds me a great deal of breast cancer. There are types that call for all the guns- surgery, chemo, radiation. And there are types that simply are not going to kill a woman. Or at least one type. And mammograms, like the PSA, are notorious for showing things that aren't really there or making benign things look possibly dangerous or entirely missing things that are, and almost every woman who has gotten regular mammograms has gotten at least one call-back over the years which- talk about anxiety producing! BUT, older women seem to get diagnosed with breast cancer at a higher rate than younger women. In fact, 20% of breast cancers are diagnosed in women 75 or over so there's no cut-off age for us and our testing. 

Enough of that. 

This is a picture of the room I waited in for the doctor to come and check me for skin cancer today. Yes, it was that annual appointment that I was convinced could not possibly have been scheduled correctly and yet, it had. 
I do not mind going to the dermatologist. Not sure why. Probably because I've never been diagnosed with skin cancer AND they neither weigh you nor take your blood pressure. At least mine doesn't. Also, my dermatologist cracks me up. He has the driest sense of humor. Today when I was standing before him and he was doing a full-body exam as decorously as possible, he asked me to point my right toe out and move my leg to the side. Which I did. It almost felt like a ballet move.
"Nicely done," he said. Haha! 
I showed him two places that have bothered me for awhile, never quite going away entirely, and often being itchy. He said they were pre-cancers and he burned them off. No big deal at all. He also wants me to use some kind of cream on my upper chest to get rid of some precancerous stuff going on there. He could burn it off, he said, but that would leave a glaring white spot which many women do not care to have in that area. I told him that my décolletage has not been very attractive for a long time so he could burn it all off for all I cared, but he said he preferred I used the cream. Unlike the cream I used on my face about fifteen years (or possibly twenty-five years) ago which basically burned off all of my facial skin in a long and protracted period of pain and blood and scaring the hell out of small children in the grocery store, this stuff only requires five days of applying it twice a day. 

So I am good for another year unless something scary shows up and that is something of a comfort.

Zepbound update: I feel like I'm in a slightly different stage than I was at the very beginning of taking the medication, but I'm not having any  overt food cravings, and a fairly small amount of food is quite satisfying. My hunger level feels appropriate. I'm also eating different sorts of food. Well, many of the same foods but none of the really empty calorie ones. And I don't want those. If there was a cake in this house I doubt I'd be interested. 
Brownies might be a different story but that's neither here nor there. I do feel that if there were brownies (the good ones, not that crappy ones) around, I still wouldn't be tempted to eat them. 
Weird. But rather wonderful. 

Tonight's dinner will be leftover soup which Glen insisted that he'd love to eat again. It was delicious and will probably be better tonight. I am making a loaf of bread but the ingredients are whole wheat flour, oat bran, and a little white flour along with salt,  yeast, and water. It's a good, chewy, sturdy bread and I feel no need to put butter on it. As a soup dunker, it's excellent. And I have, so far, experienced absolutely no side-effects to the medication. 

The hawk is back again. Here's a very bad picture of him. 

Or her. I really should do some research and observation before I start blithely misgendering the creature. 

I have no way to gracefully end this post so I'll just say, as usual...

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which Brenda Makes An Appearance!

The 2025 photograph of a gecko on the screen at night. 

Well I got my ass handed to me yesterday due to my words about Joe Biden. Let me explain right now, before we go any further, what I meant about wondering how his prostate cancer went from undetectable to Stage 4 so quickly when I would imagine (and no, I don't really KNOW) that a president of his age, especially, would be getting check-ups at least every six months and the tests they run routinely would almost definitely have involved a PSA test which measures the amount of prostate specific antigen in a man's blood and I believe (and again- I could be wrong!) that if that were the case the cancer would have been detected and diagnosed much earlier. A cancer can spread with frightening speed and some types of cancer don't show any symptoms until the disease is in its late stages but generally, prostate cancer is not one of those. I know it can happen but it is unusual.

I've now spent at least an hour trying to write how I feel about being told that none of this matters any more anyway because Biden is no longer president, but you're right. It doesn't matter. But you know what does matter? Being told the truth and I thought that truth was what the Democratic party was representing in 2024 and maybe, yes, it really was. But maybe no, it wasn't. Not entirely.

And that is all I will say about that except that none of this will do anything to denigrate what Joe Biden has done for this country. He has always been and will always be, an honorable man and a strong defender of the rights of ALL Americans. I respect him and I am grateful for his long service to us all. 

May he live long enough to enjoy more time with those he loves and who love him because I know their number is legion and he deserves that. 

So back to our regularly scheduled program which is pretty unexciting. I went to town today and Jessie and I went to Costco where I was able to get this picture.

Now that's two beautiful women if I've ever seen two beautiful women. Little bit of a height differential, isn't there? Jessie's shirt was, of course, unplanned but it sort of adds a note of humor to the picture although Beautiful Brenda is NOT a tiny human and don't you forget it. 

Thank you, ladies for letting me take that picture. 

We ate Pho for lunch and that was a good choice for me. It didn't take a whole lot to fill me up and I'm sure I've brought home enough for two more meals. Every time I eat Pho I always say the same thing which is, "This is SO good!" 
And it is. 

On we went to Publix and that was fine. The lady bagging my groceries said something to me that almost made me weep. I'd just told Jessie that I was tired today and she asked if I knew why and I said, "Oh, I spent a lot of time outside yesterday and you know- it's just one of those days," and this lady said, "But you're still beautiful."

Sometimes human beings can be so very kind. 

At home I picked beans again, thinking there weren't really that many. 
Hahahahahahahaha!

And one little colored-up tomato. 

I've made a soup, a sort of minestrone with, again, so many vegetables. Last night's salad was, dare I say it? Rather unbelievably good. 

Vegetables are making me very happy and what could be wrong with that? I have had moments of hunger today, but that hunger was easily satisfied. There is real true physical hunger and there is the hunger for food that we think will calm us, will make us feel better, will soothe and distract us. These are entirely different things and to actually and truly feel this and experience this, is what I would call a sort of miracle. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Hellish Heat And It's Still May

I've been the teeniest bit frustrated today and, also a little bit worried. I've been just a degree or two hungrier although I couldn't eat as much as I had been eating if my life depended on it so I need to just go with it and recognize that this is a process and very, very early days. I keep giving myself the same advice I used to give my Weight Watcher classes and it is good advice but let's face it- I've known all this stuff forever and unless you absolutely take it all to heart, it does no good. 
"Oh, shut up sensible self, and make me a sandwich!" 
You know?

I've been working out in the garden and the yard today. I can only do half an hour or forty-five minutes at a time and then I start to get stupid in the heat and have to come in and cool off and rehydrate. I weeded in the garden and spread a tiny bit of mulch. I pulled up one of the squash plants that was in one of the grow-bags because that squash is not going to suddenly recover and start putting out perfect squashes again. I planted more arugula seeds in the bag, though, and hope to keep getting the stuff all throughout the summer, if possible, with repeat plantings. 
I also discovered that we are indeed growing cucumbers.

Two of those are almost too big and I do not know how we missed them. These, too, are growing in bags and we have three of them planted. Three bags full, just like Baa Baa Black Sheep except not at all like that. 
But it is very heartening to think that perhaps I will be able to make some good old pickles this year. Maybe I'll even get enough to make the kind that Glen's mama used to make which requires a crock and several weeks of soaking in a vinegar and sugar solution which must be reboiled every few days so that eventually, every cucumber molecule is replaced with a sugar molecule. They are quite tasty. I would be very happy just to be able to make some pints of dill pickles, though. 

I also worked in the yard of the old kitchen and I learned something today. I have been seeing these plants that I guess I just thought were dandelion plants that were getting WAY out of hand and I've been pulling them every where I can. There are a lot of them out in that area. I've never seen them here before that I can recall. I even had some in front of the house come up this year. So today I finally did a plant app ID on one of them. 

That thing is five feet tall and guess what? It is NOT a Three Mile Island radiated dandelion, is a plant called Tall Blue Lettuce or Wooden Lettuce and it can grow here up to seven feet. It is a native and it does make a bloom that the pollinators like. The leaves are edible but they contain a substance in them that can have narcotic effects and supposedly the native people used them in different sorts of treatments for various problems. 
Narcotic effects? Should I be pulling these up or should I be cultivating them? 
Oh hell. They're growing so fast and spreading so fast that yes, I should be pulling them up. They're not exactly the most attractive plant in the garden, are they? So I pulled up a bunch of them and a bunch of the damn stinky glory bower plants and some dewberry and some mildewy phlox and some Virginia creeper and my hands are permanently engrained with black dirt and I am tired. 

So that was another part of my frustration. There is no way I am ever, ever, EVER going to get this yard in any sort of shape that pleases me. It's all just putting out fires here and there. 

Now here's something that does please me. 

Did you know that blueberries go through red, white, AND blue phases? Aren't they pretty? 

I picked enough ripe ones today to fill a tiny bowl. They would be almost enough to make a satisfying addition to a small bowl of yogurt. I'm surprised the squirrels haven't gotten at them yet. Or the birds. 

Speaking of birds, that hawk has been back every early evening. I just saw it a minute ago, sweeping across the back yard like he owns it. Yesterday I saw it chasing a crow in a desultory way, the crow not quite ignoring it but not seemingly too worried. I really do think that this is a young hawk and not really ready for bigger prey.

I am sad to hear about Biden's cancer. I have questions though. How could a man who for the past four years was president of the United States have such an advanced form of cancer without earlier detection? Or was he diagnosed earlier and the information not released? I have to say I am enraged at how his mental and physical deterioration his last year or so in office were hidden by his family and inner circle. If he had already been diagnosed with this cancer and was in treatment, that would explain a lot about his fatigue, at least, and possibly some of his cognizance problems. 

I don't know the answer to any of these questions and I guess none of it really matters. What I am mostly thinking of is the picture I've been seeing of Joe and and his wife, Jill, taken after the news was released about his diagnosis. Her face looks beyond sad. It is stricken and drawn. Say what you will, I have no doubt about the love between those two humans. 

I guess I'll go make my beloved human some supper. Tonight's menu is going to involve a very large salad with lots of cucumbers and garden peppers and green beans, which we are eating every day. Also some arugula, two kinds of basil, oregano, chick peas and oh, something else. I don't know. Salad is a fine thing to eat on these hot summer days. Glen spent time outside today too, and I told him that we need to start scheduling regular late afternoon trips to the river so we can truly cool off in the cold miracle waters of the Wacissa. He agreed. Why the hell did he retire if we can't do things like that? Of course we can, we just have to make the time and effort to do it. 
We will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Beans, Book Review, Zepbound Update, And Best Of All- The Rolling Stones

 Well, the pressure canner made its appearance outside the pantry today, along with my canning funnel and jar lifters. Those are my tools. For pickling, I use my canning kettle because with their vinegar and salt, they do not require the extra heat the canner produces but are happily and safely processed in what we call a water bath. In some ways, I really prefer the pressure canner because it requires less water in it, making it less heavy to deal with, and because the jars and lids do not need sterilizing before using as they do with the canning kettle. 

I snapped all of the beans I had in the refrigerator and they added up to seven fine quarts, which is the exact capacity of the canner. That was quite pleasing. I did, however, learn a lesson today and I learned it by making a mistake which is about the best way to really learn something. 

I've been using a pressure cooker my entire cooking life. I even bought one when I was in college and that was one of the few things I brought with me when I left college in Denver to move to Tallahassee. That, and a rocking chair, and some parakeets. 
I still have the rocking chair. Oh, I still have a pressure cooker, it's just a different one.

Anyway, when you're using a pressure cooker, you can sort of cheat when it comes to releasing the pressure after you've finished cooking. You can do this by running water over the lid after taking it off the stove or slightly tipping the little weight thing that goes on top of the cooker so that it releases the steam that's built up inside. You aren't supposed to do this but my mother always did it and some woman who taught her to use a pressure cooker must have done it too. And thus, that has been my habit as well.
I'd never done that with the pressure canner though because I'm a relatively new learner about the device and my theory is that you should follow the rules until you have a true knowledge of how something works. But today I was feeling sort of like I knew what I was doing and after the little valve on the lid which pops up when there is pressure in the canner, had gone down, I sort of tilted the pressure weight thingie which was still hissing just a tiny bit and thought I'd let all the pressure release, or at least well enough, and then I opened the lid and let me tell you- not a good idea. Nothing blew up or anything like that but one of the jar lids sort of buckled and the liquid in all the jars was still just boiling away. 
"I'm sorry!" I said to my beans, and put that lid back on and secured it. 
Everything turned out all right although I am going to put the one jar whose lid seemed to take the brunt of it all in the refrigerator and use those first. 

You can see that jar on the far left. 

And that took me about all day long. Okay. Not really. About three hours though, and I'm a fast bean snapper. While I was working, I was listening to a very good book that I finished about the same time the beans went into the canner. 

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride.

Dang he's a good writer. He went to the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism as well as Oberlin Conservatory of Music because of course he's a musician as well. 
Sigh. I bet he's a good one. 

I'm not even going to try and tell you what the book is about because it is a rather involved story but at its core it's about a community in Pennsylvania in the 1930's where Jewish immigrants and Black folks who have moved up north searching for a better life, live side-by-side in a rather run-down neighborhood. McBride's mother was Jewish, his father Black so I guess in a way, this book is what he's done with his own heritage. The first book I ever read by him was a memoir. The Color of Water. That one was specifically about his mother and I will always believe that title is the best title of a book ever. 

I loved this book and I'll probably either listen to it again or read it with my eyes. 

Or both. 

On to Zepbound, Day Two. 
Well, y'all, after doing a little research, I have discovered that many people who begin taking the drug feel the effects within hours. It's not just me. Today has been much like yesterday. I think of food because I've got a seventy-year habit of that but I don't crave, or even want the food I'm thinking of. My brain isn't constantly doing a review of what I know is in the refrigerator to figure out what I want to eat next. I know I have a lot to learn here. If I am eating a great deal less, I need to make sure that what I eat is nutritionally dense. This only makes sense. And many people seem to report that their tastes change on the drug. That steamed vegetables are more pleasing. That they don't crave cream in their coffee. That they don't even crave coffee the way they did. Now I don't know what's going to happen in my experience but I know that my appetite has been very easy to satisfy again today. I do feel hunger when it's been some time since I ate but a small amount of food is enough. I honestly do not want more. This can and probably will change. We shall see. 

But I will tell you this- just the fact that I feel like a "normal" person when it comes to the meaning and importance of food in my life for the first time ever seems like a miracle. 
I do not use that word lightly or with hyperbole. People for whom food is basically fuel have no understanding whatsoever how different it is for many of us who, all our lives have been told to "just eat less, exercise more!" which is every bit as helpful as telling a junkie to "just stop doing heroin!" 

And speaking of junkies whom I love (okay, well, whatever), today is Sunday and this morning I ran across this video and it seemed to me to be the perfect Sunday morning hymn for the Church of the Batshit Crazy.

Mick may be the preacher, but Keith is the...well... cherished saint of all of us who are who are not saints, nor will ever be. 
Plus, he looks damn good. 

Here's to the Rock and Roll gods who make us dance, make us sing, and take us to a different place with the music they make. And also, to the science behind a class of drugs which may change the face of medicine as we know it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Recital And Reactions

I went out to the garden this morning and picked what I can only describe as a shit-ton of beans. I hadn't picked in three days and this is what happens. 

Please note that bag held a "party pack" of Hawaiian rolls. It's huge. I will be canning this next week. I didn't hate being out in the heat but if it had gone on much longer, I would have. My insane familiar showed up and found a place right where I was working with a bit of shade. 

She probably just hangs out with me outside so if she gets the urge to slash and bite, she'll have me conveniently right there. 

Sigh.

A very handsome anole was hanging out on the fence the beans grow on. He was practicing his push-ups and also puffing out his pretty little pink throat which is how I know it was a he. I really wanted to take his picture and I did try but he was shy and not having it. He was trying to attract a woman lizard, not me. 

This afternoon Mr. Moon and I went to a piano recital for August and Levon. Their teacher also has voice students so it's a mix of piano and voice performances. It's amazing how good some of the kids are, how very good their stage presence is. There were a few tiny girls singing who had very fine voices in my opinion and I was impressed. One older gal took the cake though. There's always one. The boys did well. Levon played two songs, August one. Levon has been taking lessons longer than August. That child cracks me up so much. He had done his own hair and it was sticking up in a profoundly stylish way and the way he stands and talks and walks just screams, "I am a man!" 
And yet, that small man sat on his mommy's lap the entire concert because he wanted to and Jessie was quite happy to let him. I should have taken pictures. I didn't. 

So I'll take a paragraph or so here to discuss how I'm feeling after my first very low dose of Zepbound.

I would mainly describe that as "not hungry."
Is it possible it's already doing its thing?

I feel fine in all regards but unless I'm just experiencing a happy placebo effect right now, it is. That whole thing about food noise? I guess that's what I'm experiencing. I swear to you that in the last months, I have thought about eating almost every moment of my day. And I felt hungry all the time, even though I knew I wasn't. I was always focused on what I would eat next. When I would allow myself to eat next. 
Today has been different. I have thought about food but when I do, eating doesn't seem to hold any appeal. This has never really happened unless I was sick or in the throes of deepest depression and anxiety. This appears to be a true and serious result of the Zepbound. I absolutely know that it may not be that at all but that my brain has decided to start this project on its own.

Or something. 

We'll see how tomorrow goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Stuff

I've mentioned that Levon is currently somewhat obsessed with basketball. There's some little kid you can see videos online of whose name I cannot remember and cannot find who is Levon's new inspiration. Levon spends as much time watching the child's videos as his parents will allow him. A very good coach is involved. 
Inspired by these videos, Levon has made himself what I'd call a worksheet of things he needs to practice. I am quite impressed by this worksheet which was on the counter top at Jessie's house today when I went to meet up with her to go floor-covering shopping. Glen and Vergil were at the house with a friend of ours and a guy Glen met at the local marina diner over there who works in the kitchen. Glen and Vergil's main goal today was to set up the Star Link internet and cell receiver or whatever the hell it is and yes, I know that Elon Musk is the owner of that company but that's the only option out there. They got that going very quickly and my husband called me a little after ten this morning. Those men got up early and got to work early. The phone connection sounded great and I am relieved that we now have phone service. 

The marina guy got all the carpet pulled up in two hours. 
TWO HOURS! 
Supposedly the cement underneath is in very good shape, no cracks. And we still haven't figured out what we're going to use in place of the ugly brown carpet. Jessie and I first looked at the vinyl/wood/laminate flooring which I really do not want to do because MORE WOOD.
This did not completely offend me though. 

It's almost a blonde, not a beige or brown. Still- more wood.

We are also considering cement coating but there was no place for Jessie and I to go look at examples of that. More research is needed there. 

And then we went to a floor covering place that has carpet. Lots and lots of carpet. And some of the colors are so pretty. I think we were both charmed. 

Look at those greens and teals. So we threw that option in the pot. Carpet can be gross, yes, but it can also be soft and comfortable on the feet. Probably not a good option, but it is an option. Not, of course, in a bathroom or the kitchen. 

And then because we were just a few doors down from the appliance store where Mr. Moon and I generally get our appliances, we stopped in there to look at stoves, washers, and dryers. 

Gas is not an option at the lake so it has to be an electric stove. Everyone seems to use and love the flat top stoves these days and Jessie's pushing for that but in my heart, I'd be completely happy with the old coil burner stove. I think. 
The main problem with the flat, glass-top stove for me is that cast iron will scratch it. Do I care if it gets scratched? Well, yes, a little bit. The main selling point according to the salesman is that the glass top stove can produce much higher heat. I rarely, if ever, cook on high heat and never on super high heat. So that is not a plus in the positive column for me. 
If you feel like it, could you give me your opinion of the radiant heat stove tops if you use them? I know there are also induction heat stove tops but that looks like way more fanciness than I need or want. This stove will be used for basic cooking and baking and need I remind you that if necessary, I could cook on an open fire? 
Well, theoretically. I would rather not. 

By this time it was way after two and Jessie and I made our way to Kyoko, formerly Japanica! and had a very nice lunch. I got tempura tofu which was silky on the inside and crispy on the outside. And other delicious things, too. We are both extremely impressed with what they've done to the place. Here are two pictures taken from where I sat. 

Samurai Man! 

In real life, this cloud of silk cherry blossoms are far more ethereal and lovely than they appear in the photograph. Restful and soothing. 

By the time I got home, it was getting close to four so I got the sheets out of the dryer and made the bed up. I noted that I'd gotten an email that my Zepbound, the GLP-1 medication I was just prescribed and ordered, was to be delivered at any moment and almost as soon as I read that, the UPS guy pulled up in my yard and handed me a box with my first four vials in it, along with syringes and alcohol and gauze pads in it. 
I was thrilled and I was nervous. What the hell am I doing? And I thought about the first time I was prescribed antidepressants and how I felt the same way. A mixture of guilt and shame, hope, curiosity and determination to take care of myself. 
I put everything away, the vials in the refrigerator, the syringes on top of the kitchen hutch, watched the video, and decided that I would rather wait until tomorrow for no good reason. I was discussing all of this with Jessie via text and she said that if it was her, she'd just do it now. 
As Jessie is the boss of me (and who isn't?) I considered what she'd said and realized there was no reason not to draw up that clear liquid in the syringe, stick in my thigh, and push the plunger. 

So I did. 
It was the first time I've ever injected myself in my life. Now see- if I'd just used heroin, this would be no problem at all but no, I have not. I did think of Keith Richards as I sent the needle into my thigh. Once again, dear Keith has helped me in a difficult situation. 

And it is done and it was easy and we shall see (eventually) how this all works out. 

Meanwhile, in more important news, Bruce Springsteen has thoroughly pissed off Donald Trump who has responded in the most inane, insane, and childish way. 

He even said, "He's not a talented guy." And then proceeded to issue what appears to be a veiled threat to The Boss about how he better keep his mouth shut or see what happens when he comes back to this country. And because there is so little to say about Bruce Springsteen which is negative, he criticized Bruce's skin, calling him a "prune of a rocker." 

Oh, Donald. You may have awoken the Kracken. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wackadoo Zoo

I was worried that I was running late this morning but I managed to make it to the cafetorium at Maggie's school with time to spare.
Cafetorium really does crack me up. They just call it the cafeteria at the school but I think we should use the proper name for it, don't you? Such a sturdy, fancy name. 

When I got to the school the entire parking lot was filled. I couldn't believe it. I had no idea this was such a big deal. I thought it was just Maggie's class that was putting on a little play. But NO. It was the entire third grade which is a bunch of kids. I had to park on the side of the road but that was fine. I checked in at the office and got my visitor's pass and then I found Lily and Lauren and Jason. They'd already watched the 9:00 performance but were watching it again because Lily was going to take Maggie home with her after it was over. 

This was quite a professional production. Well, sort of. I could definitely tell there had been a lot of work put into it by the music teacher, the classroom teachers, and the kids. 

The theme of the show was that we are all different and that is okay. Not exactly what they taught when I was in third grade which was basically that none of us should be different because being different was definitely not okay. All the kids were vaguely dressed as different animals and the problem was, none of them made the right noises. Maggie's class were the cows and they meowed instead of mooing. 
And so forth. 
The names of the songs they sang pretty much tell the story.

I tried to take a tiny video. Let's see if it works.

Anyway, thank y'all for getting this far if you have gotten this far. I suppose that the only thing less exciting than watching a kid you know in a production like this is reading a description of a production like this where no one you know is involved. I mean, you kind of know Maggie. But not really. 

We went to lunch a little later and that was fun. Maggie cracked me up when she told me that she deserved to have her mother take her out of school for the rest of the day because she'd had to stand up for an entire hour! 
Now you know Maggie a little better. 

I told her that wasn't really how it worked. She just gave me a look and continued to eat her chicken-on-a-stick. A little while later she said, "I'm living the dream!" 

Yes. Yes she is. 

I was going to run into Publix on my way home because of course I had forgotten a few things when I went earlier in the week. And I did eventually get those things but just as I was parking, I got a call from my best friend from sixth grade on. I had nothing I really had to do so I just reparked in a shady spot and we chatted for over an hour. In the Publix parking lot. 
It was lovely, though! How incredibly cool is it that we can pick up all the threads of our lifelong conversation and just weave the next part of it as we go? Fifty-eight years of friendship. That is one hell of a long time. We caught up and we laughed and we commiserated and we laughed some more. It's sort of hilarious that we are both seventy years old and I do not think that either one of us really believes it although the evidence is overwhelming. 

So that was my day. Okay, I did some other stuff but not much. Mr. Moon is, of course, over there in Georgia, pressure-washing and god knows what all. He's going back tomorrow with Vergil to see if they can figure out how to get us internet and cell service. That would be a big step in the right direction. 

We seem to have a resident hawk here now. I've seen it several days in a row. It flies in and appears to nibble at something on the ground and then takes off to perch on a tree or the old part of the kid fort that still remains after the rest of it was smashed by a tree after a hurricane. I believe it is a juvenile. I haven't seen it obviously catch anything like a mouse or small squirrel. I have such a love/hate relationship with hawks. They are beautiful and I can't help but admire them but I also remember how they took off with baby chicks back when I had my flock. I can't judge them for that but I wish it hadn't happened. 

I picked four more squash today. I'm going to go cook two of them with onions and make a little pot of field peas, frozen since last summer. They'll still be good. We haven't planted any of those yet this year. We may or may not. They are so delicious but a lot of work to shell. 

Ah shit. Maurice just bit and scratched the hell out of me. Why, why, why do we have this cat? She was lying right by my laptop, snuggling up against my arm and I hadn't even raised my hand to pet her when she suddenly just reached out, grabbed my arm and bit me. Here I am, bleeding profusely, and the last gashes she gave me haven't even completely healed. 

Do hawks eat cats? 
Mmmm...
That bitch would probably end up eating the hawk. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What's On Your Calendar?

Aloe vera bloom.

Today turned into a big ol' lesson in things not turning out exactly as you expect them to. 

I knew I had an appointment at 1:20 to get a dexa scan (which measures bone density) and I wanted to go to a pottery open studio before that which is not a class, but just a time when you can go into the studio and work on projects. No formal teaching goes on, although there is an instructor there. Neither Lily nor Jessie could make it today so I was being all brave and going to go by myself. I knew that I wasn't going to need that much time to work on the bowl I was making last week so I didn't get there until almost 10:30 but when I did, the door was locked, the lights were off. 
No open studio today. 
Well, damn. Three hours until my appointment but going home and coming back to town would have taken almost an hour so...what to do? 
First thing I did was to call my dermatologist's office because I'd gotten a notice that I have an appointment next Wednesday with them for an annual check. 
This seemed impossible. I seriously could not believe it had been more than six months since my last appointment, thus my call.
Guess what? Next Wednesday will be one year exactly since I was there. So next Wednesday I'll be involved in one more medical situation and I am not happy about this. My calendar was clear as the bright blue sky after today. NO MORE APPOINTMENTS! 
For awhile, at least. You know. 
Wrong.

I ended up going to Goodwill for more house stuff. I didn't find a whole lot. A pretty good mixing bowl, a soup bowl that I just liked, another casserole dish but this one small. Some bright yellow place mats. And then I saw a pillow. 
Not just A pillow. The pillow of my dreams! Well, sort of. 
Dark teal velvet. Soft, soft, soft. Could I even wash it? Whatever, it cost four bucks so even if it fell apart in the rinse cycle, I would not have lost much. 
Here it is, fresh out of the dryer. 

Maurice is checking it out. I think that perhaps this is what we might call "an old lady pillow."
I am an old lady so that works out well. Now whether or not I'll be taking that over to the boat house has not yet been determined. In the meantime, I think it may go on my bed. 

After Goodwill, I went and got myself a little bite to eat and then headed over to Radiology Associates which is where I got my mammogram not that long ago and also the scan of my kidneys even more recently. I had to wait for some time there but I just read a New Yorker magazine, people-watched, and wasn't worried about it. When I got called back, the woman who was going to be the one to do the scan introduced herself and she was a hoot. A young woman, nay, almost a girl, but very serious about her job. Friendly, but professional. I think she may be a tiny bit on the spectrum. Can we still say that? Does anyone still say that? Whatever, she seems really suited to her work. I asked her how long she'd been going that particular job and she said three years. "Do you enjoy it?" I asked her, looking around at the tiny cubicle where she probably spends most of her day. 
"I do!" she said. "Some people would hate the monotony but I really like it. I like a routine."
I can relate to that. 

Then on to the library and then home again where I took the trash to the dump and picked green beans.
Oh dear god. I am already so overwhelmed. 

The canner is going to have to come out of the pantry ASAP. I already have a pretty big bag of beans I picked two days ago in the refrigerator. 

Glen's been at his house all day. That's mostly what I call it. His house. I mean, on paper it's our house but in reality, no. I have no idea what he's been doing there all day but he had an appointment to meet the insect control guy sometime between five and seven-thirty this evening. 
Sigh. 
Whatever it is he's spent the day doing, he will come home exhausted. I know that for sure. That man is not afraid of work. 

And, in one more bit of news, I got an email from the company where I'm getting my "fat shot" as Trump so delicately put it recently, and in a process that was almost too easy, I have ordered my first month's worth of a starting dose and it should be here in three business days. I'm really doing this. 
Thank all of you who commented on yesterday's post. I really did not know what to expect and so was a little stunned at the many positive comments I got. I really, really appreciate all of them. 

And...

Baby cucumber!

Close up of aloe vera bloom. 

Yadda-yadda-yadda.

Love...Ms. Moon

This Was Not Easy. This Is Not Easy

Years old garlic blossoms, dried and still beautiful.

Today was one hell of a day. Well, the first part of it, anyway. I had an appointment with my dear Dr. Zorn as a follow-up after he increased one of my anti-depressant meds six months ago. I didn't even have to get bloodwork done before I went in. It was basically just a pop-in and chat sort of situation and I do love a good chat with Dr. Z. but for some reason, this morning before I left the house, I had a full-on anxiety attack, began weeping, couldn't stop, etc. 
I took an Ativan. The funny thing is, the only Ativan I take are the ones I take before a doctor's appointment. It did help, eventually, but when I first got to the office and was waiting to be called back, I was still very stressed. The tech who takes vitals came and got me and I don't know what happened but I just broke down in tears again. I apologized and apologized and told her that I am usually a competent woman but that this is what happens when I go to see a doctor. 
She was so very kind to me. She reassured me that it was okay and that she has realized that there are so many ways that people react when they go to a doctor since she got the job she has now. She handed me a Kleenex, offered me a glass of water, and then she said, "Do you need a hug?"

I needed a hug more than words could ever say and she gave me one of the best hugs I've ever had in my entire life and I will love her forever. 

I had to wait a little while for Dr. Zorn but I know that he spends time with each patient, listening and talking. I respect that and that is probably the reason he is such a popular doctor. 
When he came into the room, he rushed over and shook my hand and said, "How are you?" and I said, "I'm a fucking mess."
And it went from there. 
I know the man's not a counselor but he is easy to talk to, he is not afraid to share things he's experienced in his own life, and he and his wife just had their fifth child and talking to people about babies and childbirth is one of my favorite things to do. 

And then I finally screwed my courage up and asked if he would prescribe one of the class of drugs being used to help deal with obesity for me and he said immediately that he would. 
Now Dr. Zorn is not a fat shamer. He is not the sort of doctor whom you go to see for any ailment who tells you that if you'd just lose some weight...
Women get told this all the time. Having headaches? Well, maybe if you lost some weight, you wouldn't have them. Have a rash on your arm? Hmmm...you might consider losing a few pounds. Experiencing anxiety and depression? Well, you know, you'd probably feel better about yourself and everything else if you shed some of that weight! 
And I know damn well that losing weight does indeed affect many, many body systems in a positive way. My cholesterol is high, my blood pressure is high, my mobility is affected by the weight I put on my joints, and furthermore, I am very, very tired of hating the way I look so much that I generally refuse to look in a mirror. 

This is a big deal. And ever since Trump got elected, I have had zero control over my appetite. Food has always been my go-to first stress response. Not only eating it but cooking it and growing it too. And although the food I cook is generally pretty healthy, I have succumbed to eating things that I never would have ten years ago. Bit by bit, bite by bite, I have lowered the bar over and over on what I know is not serving me. 
And this is a battle I have fought since I was six years old. For many years, I did well in that battle. I ate clean, clean food. I exercised as religiously as a nun saying her rosary. I led Weight Watcher classes. And I was good at that. 
Of course there have also been little bouts here and there of disordered eating that I toyed with. Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't stay on that path longer than I did. 

But then something happened when I was in my fifties, I think, when I just could not continue to deny myself foods that I do love. Bread, with butter. Cheese. Sauces. The crispy skin of a roast chicken. 
And so forth. 
I'm not a huge dessert eater. I could easily go the rest of my life without ice cream. And I'm not a person who plows through bags of Doritos. I'd much rather have a Cuban sandwich than any piece of cake ever baked. 
But I cannot continue on eating the way I have been. I'm not exercising nearly enough although it's a proven fact that it's far more about what you do at the table than what you do at the gym when it comes to losing weight. 

So I need help. And no, these drugs are not "natural" but you know what else isn't natural? The endless abundance and choice of food at our grocery stores, our restaurants. It's ridiculous. And if these medications do help stop what they call "the food noise" in my head, it will be a miracle. Ever since I was a child, there has rarely been a moment in my life when the thought of food and eating has not been a part of my day. And eating past satiation is something I've also fought since childhood. My body just does not want to pay attention to the clues that my brain sends out saying, "That's enough."

I hope I don't regret sharing this. Really, it ain't nobody's business if I do, as Holy Mother Saint Billie Holiday sang so long ago, but if this is something that helps me and can help others, then why not? 

And yes, Dr. Zorn didn't hesitate a moment before he agreed to help me get on these drugs. Before I left, he said, "I'm proud of you. You are a strong woman."

And then he gave me a hug. 

So. That's what happened to me today. 
On tonight's menu we shall be having a lovely summer squash soup. 

Look at those pretty babies. 

And some cole slaw made from one of the four small heads of purple cabbage I harvested yesterday. 

At least it's pretty. 

Love...Ms. Moon