Today

Finally a halfway decent walk this week and the butterflies are out everywhere and I can't get a decent picture to save my life. I noticed that the passion flowers are fruiting which led me to wonder if they're edible. This led to finding a blog that I'll definitely be adding to my feed which is called Pure Florida. 
Yes, they are edible and I hope to try some soon.

The sky is darkening to an ominous shade of gray and I am spending the day right here in Lloyd, Florida. I'm going to make a few pints of fig preserves, do a little cleaning.

Mr. Moon and I may go for a little beach trip this weekend, just down to St. George for two nights. I surely could use a little ocean in my sight and on my skin.

And that's about it. I'm feeling a bit more on top of things. I am grateful for a day of downtime to attend to what is right here before me.

I am so grateful for all of you. Thank you.

Love...Ms. Moon

Don't Expect This To Make Sense

That is what my brain looks like today, only not that orderly.

Anxiety will fuck you up.

It's crept its evil little self (there's another word I want to use but I can't think of it) back into my psyche and I can't think for shit and I just want to lay down and sleep forever and I did take a nap this afternoon and I know I'll be okay but this sucks.

I spent most of the day in town with Lily and the boys. We went and got some papers signed and went and got our hair cut. No, no, I didn't get all of mine cut off. I just can't do it. Don't ever listen to me again if I say I'm going to, either. I got about five inches cut off and no one in this world would notice a difference. Lily got hers cut pretty short though and it's darling and I'm so spacey I didn't even take a picture but I will. We went to see our darling Melissa and I'd pay to just sit there in her presence and chat with her. I mean it. She's so precious and pretty and funny and smart.

The boys did their best to be well-behaved but as always, they were...boys. Melissa just laughs, though, and offers them blow-pops and tootsie pops and lets them play with her dinosaurs and they both wanted their hair cut too but today was not their day. They gave her hugs when we left and Lily and I gave her hugs too and I offered for her and her husband, our Juancho, to drive their camper to Lloyd and let that be their vacation.
I'd even let them use my bathroom. I'm serious. Hell. I'd make them breakfast.
Owen did say something while we were there that made my heart almost fall out of my chest. We were talking about Kool-Aid and I said I'd grown up on it and look how I turned out.
"Beautiful," said Owen.
Oh, but he's going to be a heartbreaker, that one.
After that, we went to the bank where Mr. Moon works and I watched the boys while Lily got more papers signed and when we were done, it was suddenly just pouring rain. Ten minutes before it had been sunny and lovely and then monsoon.
Florida. Jeez.

We went and had lunch and by then the boys were DONE and I was too and I took them all home and ran by Publix and got broccoli and cauliflower and lemons and came home and slept like the dead for over an hour.

I got up and picked figs and tomorrow IS going to be make-preserves day or I'm going to know the reason why. Then I picked the garden and gathered the eggs and now I'm going to make supper. Jessie and Lily had a plan to go see Magic Mike XXL tonight and wanted me to come. "We want to take our mama to go see some man meat!" Lily told her daddy in the bank.
We have a beautiful relationship, me and my girls.
But the movie doesn't start until 10:30 and I'll be in bed by then so, nope.

I still can't find my simmer mats and Mr. Moon even looked and yesterday I cleaned out all the areas I thought they MIGHT be in and this morning I tried to put a new plastic shield on my phone screen and couldn't do it and fucked it up and I want to take it back and I can't find the box it came in and it could only be in the trash or the recycle and it's not in either of those places but I DID find the boxes the simmer mats came in. Empty, of course.
I tell you- my mind is a mess.

And let me clear up something about my cargo shorts- I get men's cargo shorts. I don't have a waist and I don't have much butt and hips-forget about it. So they only come in waist sizes.
No, I will not admit to you what mine is.

I feel so stupid and so lame and so ridiculous and so...inept.
To sum up- crazy.

Going to go make venison meatloaf. Maybe that will straighten my crazy ass out.

Love...Ms. Moon

Sky Blessing, iPhone Blessing

Finally. A bit of rain. A few moment's downpour. Better than nothing. Tomorrow will be greener because of it.
And here's something else that turned out nicely-
I thought my phone's screen was cracked and I finally got around to taking it in and was astounded at what they charged to fix an iPhone's screen. Of course I was feeling terribly guilty because:
(a) Guilt and Shame are my default emotions, and
(b) I'm the nerd who refuses to put her phone in a big ol' clunky, bulky case.

Anyway, the guy looked at it and he said, "It might be that the screen isn't cracked at all. It might just be the plastic protector over it. Mind if I take that off?"
And he did and IT WAS!!!!

Oh bless!

So then I went to Target and bought one of everything, rationalizing that due to the fact that I hadn't had to pay to get my screen replaced.

I swear to god, I thought I was going to have to text someone to come and save me from the Target. I could not get out of there. They have everything! 

Okay- here's a question. 

The last few pairs of cargo shorts I've bought have been the same size and I swear to you, after I've worn them for about fifteen minutes they've gotten so loose that I don't have to unbutton them or unzip them to pull them down to pee. It's ridiculous. I put my CD player in a pocket and half a dozen eggs in another pocket and they fall down. So today at the Target I bought a new pair and of COURSE they don't make odd sizes so I got the waist size which is two inches less, brought them home, put them on, and trust me- these are not going to be loose enough to qualify as comfortable no matter how long I wear them unless I wear them until I lose ten pounds.  

WHY IS THAT?

And no, I did not try them on. Are you kidding me? 

And no, I have not lost weight. Again...are you kidding me?

Well, if you know the answer, I'd appreciate it if you'd share. 

And now I'm tearing up the kitchen and trying to get rid of stuff and organize stuff and I think I'm going to get this done. Yep. I do. And just in the nick of time, Lily and Jason's offer on the house they want was accepted so she will have a huge kitchen to fill up (well, relative to the teeny-tiny space she's been calling a kitchen) and so she may want my unwanted muffin tins and so forth. 

Mr. Moon is on his way home and I need to stop what I'm doing and make some supper and finish up the laundry. I'm feeling a bit better, trying not to dwell in the Valley and the Shadow of Death, etc. because I DO fear evil which is pretty much as good a description of anxiety as I know if you define "evil" as anything bad that could possibly (and will undoubtedly) happen. My rod and my staff, they do not comfort me and I preparest a table every night but not before mine enemies. 

No way. I have enough problems as it is.

All right. Bible study over.

And no, I have not found my simmer mats. This is maddening. Could I have thrown them away? Why would I do that? 

Love...Ms. Moon

Beating A Dead Horse

I tried to take my walk this morning. I got about a third of the way through it and said, "Nah," turned around and came home. It's just stupid hot and it never did rain last night, just those few teasing drops and it's steamy and I'm wishing with all of my heart I could go away, get away, be away but frankly, I'd have to take me with me and what good would that do?

Plug-ugly. That's how I feel today. Like a big old fat horse, worn down to the no-good, the useless. And needless to say, NOT attractive.

Maybe they could make glue out of my hooves.

That's all I've got. Move along. Nothing happening here.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Repeat Myself Once Again

When I got to Lily's today to get the boys, Owen was very excited to show me what he'd gotten from his other grandma's house this past weekend. An owl he called Hedwig, for Harry Potter's owl, and a husky puppy he was calling White Fang. The boy does love his animal friends. And had a severe case of bed-head. I told him he looked like the lead singer in an 80's rock band. And he did.

We packed everything up and got in the car and drove through a car wash which was SO MUCH FUN because, well, it just is.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
Cuushy-cuushy-cuushy.
Swish-swish-swish.
And then bloooooooooooowwwwwwwwww!
And we arrive on the other side all sparkly clean and happy. So happy that they talked Mer into buying them Icee's or whatever they called the brand at that particular convenience store which should have been Gag-Me-This-Sucks. 
Gibson drank about two sips and Owen managed a bit more and I didn't feel bad at all about throwing the rest in the trash. In this case, it WAS the thought that counted and their Mer bought them a frozen concoction of sugar and chemicals and they were happy.
On the way home I said, "Hey! Let's stop at a thrift store I know and y'all can pick out a toy!"
All righty then and we sure did and when we drove up the sign said, "Toys and books, 50% off."
Shitfire, Martha! It was our lucky day.

We had a lot of fun picking out toys and then I thought about all the joy and happiness this was creating (and 50% off!) and said, "You can both have TWO toys!"
Well. That was about the best thing that ever happened to them and Owen got a Dinosaur and Wild Animals Play Set with fifty-nine pieces AND a giant stuffed husky and Gibson chose a pink doll stroller and a Fisher Price Tool Set.
And Mer plunked down her $6.44 and we were all in a state of great celebration and we drove home and toys were spread out.

I mean, I mean, I MEAN, it was awesome.

A baby was strolled for about six seconds.

And then she was taken out and rocked and sung to.

The giant husky was washed and dried and came out soft and warm and she and her baby cuddled up and were so happy to have found each other again.

Oh yes. It was a good day.
Owen picked figs for me and Gibson wanted me to lay down on the bed with him while he watched videos on my phone for awhile. They ate lunch and we found six nice eggs and fed chickens and Owen washed some of his dinosaurs and Gibson played mermaids and monkeys

at the beach in a bowl of water on a towel on the kitchen floor and we all smelled the spices and Owen grated nutmeg. Somehow, this activity evolved into me making gingerbread. I didn't think that Owen would like it at all but he ate a small piece and said he liked it pretty good as did Gibson and now they know what cloves and cinnamon and ginger and cardamom all taste like when baked into a cake with molasses and flour and butter and eggs.

So yes. It was a very fine day and now they're gone and Mr. Moon is off to auction and two yellow flies bit me and my toe is swollen up like a little pink pickled sausage and my beloved, beloved dishwasher is running so quietly that I can barely hear it and somewhere to the east they are getting a storm and the radar says it is coming here and it is thundering and the air has turned a bit cooler (meaning like if you stuck a fan in the oven) and the wind picks up and dies away and the sky is a bit ominous. The elephant ears are bowing their green heads up and down in acceptance of whatever comes.

Me too.

And here comes the rain.
My god. It smells so good.

Here. Bruce. Prophet, story-teller, healer, stirrer-of-my-soul.





"Mary's Place"

I got seven pictures of Buddha
The prophet's on my tongue
Eleven angels of mercy
Sighin' over that black hole in the sun
My heart's dark but it's risin'
I'm pullin' all the faith I can see
From that black hole on the horizon
I hear your voice calling me

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain
Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Tell me how do we get this thing started
Meet me at Mary's place

Familiar faces around me
Laughter fills the air
Your loving grace surrounds me
Everybody's here
Furniture's out on the front porch
Music's up loud
I dream of you in my arms
I lose myself in the crowd

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain
Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Tell me how do you live broken-hearted
Meet me at Mary's place

I got a picture of you in my locket
I keep it close to my heart
A light shining in my breast
Leading me through the dark
Seven days, seven candles
In my window light your way
Your favorite record's on the turntable
I drop the needle and pray
Band's countin' out midnight
Floor's rumblin' loud
Singer's callin' up daylight
And waitin' for that shout from the crowd
Waitin' for that shout from the crowd
Waitin' for that shout from the crowd
Waitin' for that shout from the crowd
Waitin' for that shout from the crowd
Waitin' for that shout from the crowd

Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up, turn it up

Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Meet me at Mary's place, we're gonna have a party
Tell me how do we get this thing started
Meet me at Mary's place

Meet me at Mary's place
Meet me at Mary's place

 Love...Ms. Moon

Ah-Lah

Good morning and I'm about to jump in the car and go to the grocery store and then pick up the boys and bring them out here for a day of...
Something.

Monday. The traditional day of the week to recalculate, reformulate, re-evaluate, and perhaps even meditate.

(Pause)

Okay. Did that.

I think it's time to go to the beach.

Deep Thoughts

What I'm thinking about this evening:

1. Shelling peas is the best. It gives me such a good excuse to sit in front of the TeeVee and watch crap with my feet up.

2. Peas will fly across the room. Also- there are probably a few dozen of them between the sofa cushions.

3. I have truly lost my mind. I can't find either of my simmer mats. What in hell have I done with them? This is not funny.

4. My husband is a fine carpenter, electrician, and plumber. And he has the best work ethic of anyone I know. And a cute butt.

5. When I do finally get my entire kitchen back in order I will be a much less stressed-out woman. The kitchen is my work room, my office, and my control center. And maybe I'll find my simmer mats.

6.. If I don't water my porch plants, they're all going to die. Right now. Here I go.

Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday Services Canceled Due To An Act Of God (HAHAHAHA!)

I am weary today. From sleep, I suppose. We both slept until almost 10:30 which is completely unheard of even for me and for Mr. Moon- unimaginable! And yet, we did and we must have needed it and Maurice slept right there with us, content to let the sun come up and the rooster crow, unheeded by us, the chickens perking away with their bawks and squawks, wondering if perhaps the humans had died in the night and if they would be trapped forever in the hen house. Maybe they thought a bear got us.

Maurice more than earned her keep last night. She slept with me through most of it and came up to me on the bed when I let her in the house and wanted to be stroked and scratched and I did and there is something so heavenly, so comforting, so soothing, as letting my fingers sink into that softness to find her skull, her jaw, to scratch a bit, to stroke lightly and then behind the ears, to feel her not-quite-purr but a sort of vibration, all the same. To fall asleep with my fingers still in that fur, or with her draped over my hip when has had all of the touch she wants.
It reminds me of being a child and sucking my thumb and fingering my so-soft blanket. None of my children sucked their thumbs or got too attached to any blanket or toy that they could not sleep without them but I certainly did. And strangely (and it's a little weird and scary) I have found myself lately craving the feel of something very soft as comfort. At least I have not taken to sucking my thumb again.
Is Maurice my blankie?

Well. She is a good one.

When she's in the mood.

And so we got up and let the chickens out and I made a big, real breakfast and lunch of eggs and grits and biscuits and sliced tomatoes. The kitchen may become done today as Mr. Moon is working on finishing up the cabinet and drawer and I can put things away and reclaim the floor space where his tools are, where the basket of things that go under the sink are, and get to my baking pans and my bowls once again. I am not complaining. I can't begin to tell you the joy I get from using that dishwasher. Is that silly? So be it. I love it and as I pull things out of it I hold them up and say, "Look how clean!" like a fifties housewife in ecstasy over the cleanliness of her husband's collars after using Whisk.

I had the most delightful conversation with an old, old friend on the phone last night. He's not old but our friendship is. Oh, we laughed and we laughed! We were tripping buddies, partners in crime, and oh the crimes we partnered in! It was so fun saying, "Do you remember...?" and it was so interesting, comparing our memories and neither one of us got upset when those memories did not exactly match but we just laughed more at the foibles of mind and memory. We are, and always have been, as different as night and day, this friend of mine, and our present lives could not be more dissimilar, but we will always love each other. Relationships like that are the most priceless thing there can be.

So. It is hot.

I love that it's predicted to be "cooler than yesterday."

Ah well, heat in Florida in summer. Why would I even remark on such a thing? And yet, I do. One must. If one climbs the same mountain every day, one is still allowed to talk about it if they want. That's just my opinion, of course.

And so I need to water plants and hang clothes on the line and that is all the outdoor activity I think this old gal is up to today. 

Hell, it'll be supper time before I know it. 

What am I talking about? I have no idea and thus, I'll be quiet now.

Love from the Church of the Batshit Crazy...Ms. Moon

Beat Your Stud On The Ground

Okay. So I HATE it when bloggers say something so fucking cryptic that you're like, "Hey! Either tell us what's going on or just don't mention it."
Right?
Well, yeah. But sometimes I just get a little hazy on what I should write about and what I shouldn't and yet, y'all know if I leave out huge blocks of time or something. After all these years, we just absolutely KNOW each other.

So, before I jump into everything let me just ask WHEN DID MR. MOON AND I BECOME THE CUTE COUPLE?
Holy fuck. I remember (and I am not making this up) when we walked into a casino in the Bahamas together once and action in the place completely halted. There was silence as everyone watched us. Yeah, yeah, he was seventeen feet tall but I was blonde and gorgeous and together we were pretty darn good-looking.
So twice in the last two days, complete strangers have asked us how long we've been together (and there was the other incident the a few weeks ago) and then proceeded to tell us how cute we are.
Cute.
Ugh. I have a visceral reaction to that because my grandfather, when he felt that my grandmother had said something idiotic would say to her, "Oh, Mother. You're so cute."
Even as a child who did not know the word condescending, I know that was wrong.
So, yeah. Now we're cute. You know why? Because we kiss. And hold hands. And shit like that.
And cute to me implies old and well, old. Maybe a little silly.
The two people who asked us this in the last twenty-four hours were both in an MRI place. One, a tech, the other a woman in the waiting room.
Because yes, we have been to an MRI place twice in the last day and that's sort of what's going on. Part of it.
Mr. Moon has something going on with his lower legs as to muscle and nerves and we need to find out what's going on in order to get 'er all fixed up. And no, I don't think it's a disease process (and the neurologist agreed) but more of a situation where there is nerve entrapment or something like that.
Thus, the MRI's.
Neither of us, of course, has ever had an MRI. And Mr. Moon's one true Achilles heel is being in small and enclosed spaces. Which of course is what an MRI is all about. That and the incredibly loud noises and don't go in there if you have a pacemaker because YOU WILL DIE!
So this was all new to us and it took quite a bit of calming medication but he got through it and so that is done.
This is a process and together we shall get through it and I know it.
My husband is the absolute strongest and bravest man I know. Despite his proclivity to pass out at the sight of blood, I have seen him run to be the first at the scene of an accident more than once. He has opened businesses, run them, faced the deaths of his parents and his sister, been there for me far more than any spouse should have to be, and been the very source of strength and love for this family.
Plus, he can carry his jon boat in his own two arms and do CPR on a baby chicken. Not at the same time.

Look- no man is perfect but he's as perfect as I've ever met and we're going to do this thing by god and we may look cute but we are a fucking strong team and we love each other and we kiss in public and I am going to die before he does and when I do, he's going to have an entire notebook full of suitable women to marry because I have a sign-up sheet on a clipboard with a pen tied to it with a string and there are plenty of names of women just waiting for me to kick the bucket.

Unless, of course, we both turn out to be the first two people in the history of the world to be immortal.
Not really counting on that one.
But as far as I'm concerned, he is, and let us carry on and do what must be done.
He's promised me a trip to Cozumel next year and by god, he's going to take me and that's all there is to it.

Oh- and the title to this post? Well, we were on our way home this afternoon and Jason called with questions about something he's trying to fix on his mom's car and Mr. Moon looked up a Youtube about the situation and I started to say something and he went, "Sssh!" which pissed me off and then the guy on the Youtube video said, "Then you beat your stud on the ground," and I thought, "Uh-huh. Gonna beat MY stud on the ground," and then I started laughing and then he apologized and I said, "Guess I won't have to beat my stud on the ground," and he started laughing and thank god we still make each other laugh.
Yeah. We are silly. So what?
And THEN when he was talking to Jason again he said something about "loosening the nuts" and I started giggling again. In developmental stages, I think I can safely say that I am at least one step above the poop level.
And now I have a new favorite thing to say which is, "I'm going to beat my stud on the ground," and let's hope it never comes to that.

Happy Saturday night.

Love...Ms. Moon

Unrest But Not So Bad

Hello, dear ones and how are you? Maurice and I are fine. They must be having a work day next door at the church because there is much whipping of weeds and so forth and Lloyd just seems very busy and noisy today and that reflects what is in my head. Even the crickets and radar plane seem especially loud. A train just went by and I heard a siren a little earlier and sometimes even Lloyd is a bit too urban for me.
Haha!
No. True.

BUT, everything will simma-down, now, I am sure.

Got some things going on around here that I'm not discussing as of yet but I have great faith that all will be well. Just life, you know, and it's not really mine to talk about so I won't but as we all know, it doesn't take much to push my anxiety buttons. I am back to the crazy dreams filled with chaos and people sleeping everywhere and music festivals and my mother's old house and washing machines that don't work and children who need tending and, and, and.

I will just say that at least I KNOW I am crazy and accept that fully and can proceed from there. Does that make sense?
To some of you it will.

Meanwhile, here we are and as far as I know, Keith Richards is still alive and so are all of my loved ones and I hope that all is well with you.

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe: Trash Adventures In Lloyd

Okay. So I went down to the trash and recycle depot today and I noticed about a dozen big net bags of Vidalia onions sitting on the side of the trash container where, as I have mentioned, we set things we don't want but that someone may be able to use. I have seen books there and baby seats and clothes and all sorts of things but I'd never seen Vidalia onions.
Y'all know what they are, right?
Big, sweet onions grown in Vidalia, Georgia and they go for a pretty penny in the store and these bags were the size you'd get at Costco.
The man who works at the trash depot was sitting in his little shed where he watches TV and has an AC and he yelled out to me, "Hey young lady! Take some Vidalia onions!"
"What's the deal with those?" I asked him.
"Get one free, get another free! I just ate one. They're great."
"Who brought 'em?" I asked.
"A lady I know. Some tomatoes were stored on top of them and some of them rotted and the juice dripped on them but they're fine. Seriously. I just ate one."
And somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to take a bag. And I sort of felt like a snob about it or something but thinking about it later I thought, "Okay, a man who works at the trash depot which stinks to high goddam heaven all the time ate an onion and thought it was great. Is that really a valid recommendation?"

And they probably were fine and the guy who works there is fine and I'm not a snob but seriously...

Nah.

Thanks, though, for the offer!

And just an FYI: If you see a metal trash can at the trash depot and it looks almost brand new and you think to yourself, "Jeez, I could use one of those," you might not want to get out of your car and open the lid.

Christ. I have no idea what that was in the bottom of that can but I wish I'd never opened that lid.

Japanica!

My goodness but it was crowded in the Japanica! today. They were slammed and seemed to have one server. She's the server who never writes anything down and never forgets anything. But even she, with her incredible skills of memory couldn't make things hurry along and so it was a long wait for food and there was no miso soup and Owen goes there mostly for the miso soup so his heart was a little broken and Gibson spilled his mushroom soup but overall, it was still pretty fun.
I have no idea why, but I didn't get one picture of Jessie.

Well, here's what I did get.

Owen kissing his brother on the comfiest couch in the world. Okay, he wasn't kissing him. He was licking him.

Gibson. Done.

Those boys sure do love their mama.

And their Uncle Hank. Who loves them. 

Today's held more but that's all I feel like discussing at the moment. All is well. All is well.

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday Church Edition- Gotta Walk Before I Run, Gotta Move While It's Still Fun

Looks to me like one of my boyfriends is taking wardrobe tips from another one of my boyfriends.
I do love a man with sartorial flair.

A woman named Lucy Moutlon took that shot of Keith at the Detroit concert a few nights ago. With her iPhone. 

Some days I just need some Keith in my life. Today's one of them. I wake up, I think, "God. I hope Keith Richards is still alive."

And then he is and so am I and there you go and we'll get through it. 

He's even releasing his first solo album in 23 years in September. 

"Crosseyed Heart."

Anyway, enough of the Keith news. And Saint Bill Murray news. I'm off to town to go to Costco and have lunch with various of my babies. If I can remember how to drive to town.

I think I can.

And I can always find my way home. 

Stay alive.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

And That's What I Like About The South

I feel extremely southern today. And after watching a video of Representative Jenny Horne in South Carolina address the House there concerning the taking down of the Confederate flag, I am damn proud to be one.

Julia Sugarbaker was not a real person but goddam trust me on this- she sure was based on a lot of them.

So what contributed to these feelings of southerness in me today?

Well, I sat and shelled peas for about an hour and there they are with some yard-longs, snapped up, and one tiny squash and a bunch of onions. While I was shelling peas, I watched a movie, a documentary, called Larry Kramer In Love and Anger and I cried and if history doesn't remember him as one of the bravest, most dedicated humans ever to live, then we don't deserve to have a history.
I sat there on the couch, my big plastic bowl of peas in my lap, my thumbs working, and I remembered those horrible times when gay men were dying in the hundreds of thousands and Ronald Reagan and the FDA were sitting on their asses and it took the people, the people, y'all, to get shit done and it did get done and because of the work Kramer and others did, millions are still alive who would not have been.
Reminds me of our Elizabeth and all the parents and the Stanley brothers, trying to get this hemp oil legalized for the thousands and thousands of children and adults who might well die without it.
Phew.
Okay.

Now look here:

A beautiful basket of figs.

Every good southern woman does not have a fig tree and grow tomatoes and peas and gets so excited about them but this southern woman does and does and does and does.
And then of course there's the chickens scratching in the magnolia leaves and the clothes I hung on the line and the late afternoon thunderstorm threatening to come in with great deep rolls of thunder and sweet breezes of cooler air.

So to top everything off this evening, I'd like to post this video James McMurtry made about the Forgotten Coast, as we call it. I know every place in this video and yep, that's where we plan to retire.



Some of you may even recognize some of these scenes from my posts about going down to the coast.

Anything else I should talk about?
Ah, probably not.

I'm going to go peel some shrimp to put in a salad to go with the peas and rice. Our neighbor's coming over for supper. Maybe he'll bring some more of those boiled peanuts he made last week. They were the best.

Say what you will about the south, sometimes it's a damn fine place to live.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. He did not bring boiled peanuts. He brought me a beautiful bowl he made out of downed pecan wood.
See what I mean?
Yeah.

Jiggery-Pokery and Higglety Pigglety

Good morning and hello and for those of you who read the Colum McCaan story yesterday and gave me your views- thank-you!
Let me first say that the story didn't trigger me at all. That was not the sort of abuse I endured. Of course, it horrified me BUT what I took away from it does come from my own experience, in a way. And that was that all through the story the nun, Beverly, had tried and tried to find a place of humanity in her abuser. One sign that he was not entirely evil. This, I believe, is very common. To feel that there simply MUST be that place in a human being, no matter how horrible he or she appears to be. And that because she was so sure there had to be that place due to her religion, her upbringing, her very own innocence and goodness, no matter how tiny, she had to be able to find a way not only to forgive him, but also that because of this, she must somehow have been partly to blame for what happened to her. That until she could truly find forgiveness in her heart and admit to her part in the abuse, there could be no peace.
Very, very common reaction to almost every sort of abuse, I think.
And when she did finally meet the man in his new guise and he came back and whispered that word to her, "Puta," that whole illusion was gone and gone forever.
He was purely evil. And evil compounded on evil because of his re-invented self as a man of peace and humanity.
And thus, she no longer had to hold any illusions that he was to be forgiven by her or that she was in any way to blame.

Now. Maybe if I read the story again, I would change my mind. But that was MY first take on it. And yes- the presence of the video camera and of the clerk in the shop gave even more credence to her discovery.
She had a witness. She had proof. She had no need for that proof to be shared. She knew it in her very bones.
And the ineffectual "help" of the church could be seen for what it was, which was of no help at all.

And if there's ever been an abuse victim who hasn't had some doubts as to his or her blame in the situation, I've never met them.
For me, when I began therapy and going to a group for survivors of sexual abuse, the thing which struck me hardest was that IT HAD NOT BEEN MY FAULT IN ANY WAY.
That realization is what saved my life, I do honestly believe.

So. There. Book club  meeting over for today.

Thank you, again, all of you who took the time to read and share your thoughts. Maybe we should do this more often?

Moving on. How many of you have never seen blooming crepe myrtle?

Here's a picture for you.

And another.

It may be the laciest blossom of all. The bees love it and get all up in those cha-cha skirts. Isn't it lovely? The blooms also come in white and lavender, depending on the variety.

So there I was, walking along, listening to my audio book on my phone, looking at things like crepe myrtle and this

when the damn book ended so I switched to a podcast of Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! and it was the one that had my favorite guest-interview ever on it. It was with a man named Kevin Fitzgerald who is a veterinarian, comedian, and former bouncer for The Rolling Stones. 

I could listen to him talk all day. But here's that podcast and to hear the part about Keith, you only have to listen for about one minute and thirty seconds.

I know I've posted about this before but fuck it- it is well worth repeating. Not only because he refers to Keith as the "hippiest cat in the world," and "so nice," but because it's so funny. That part about the spider? Priceless.

I stopped by the Post Office and here's what I found waiting for me.

My simmer mats!!
Hurray! Just in time to cook tonight's crowder peas and rice.

And...

I must tell you despite the fact that I will be garnering jealousy and hatred, that picture represents exactly what I look like when I wear these underwear.
I know. I know. Hard to believe that a woman in her sixties who has birthed four children can look so damn good but it's just the truth.
In fact, that may well be me. They probably snuck into my bathroom and snapped that picture of me as I was, uh, cradling my hands together and posing in my underwear.

So. There you go. I think I might make some bread today to make Bruschetta out of to go with our crowder peas tonight. I need to call tech help for our internet. We are getting dropped way too often on all and sundry devices. And yes, I am loving my dishwasher.
Oh! And I need to pick figs!

Another good day in Lloyd.

Peace, y'all.

Mary

And What Did The Author Mean?

Today has been a day of one simple thing after another. And yet, in it, I've read an amazing short story by Colum McCaan, had a major insight when a friend texted me and said that the story might include "triggers" and read an article in an older New Yorker about how the right, politically speaking, is on the forefront of prison reform which absolutely blew my mind. Who knew?

Things are going on here in my world. Some are serious and some are not quite-so and I am trying to keep my little nose above water and take each wave as it comes.

I am picking vegetables, dealing with chicken poop, baking "fried" green tomatoes, getting rid of stuff, cleaning stuff, and enjoying have a dishwasher, and mostly talking to Lis everyday which is more of a joy than I can relate.

I am trying to concentrate not only on what is directly before me but on things happening in the world. I am trying to hold my own world together and put one foot in front of the other.

One simple thing after another.

We simply cannot try to grasp on to that which we do not have all of the information to grasp. We must be patient. We must wait.

In the meanwhile, there is love and there are fried green tomatoes and roasted corn.

Read that story if you get a chance and if you do, tell me what YOU think it's about. No. I'm not your Eng Lit teacher. I am just curious.

Much love...Ms. Moon

Nothing Much And Not Much Of It

Here. Haven't shown the flock lately. That's all of them although you can't really see one of the brown hens behind Mick. I think the hiding hen is Miss Nicey. They are all doing well and taking care of bugs and stuff. Doing what chickens do. I need to go clean out the hen house today. It is quite poopy in there. Chickens eat, they poop, the hens lay eggs, the roosters try to get laid, they nap, they scratch, they sip water. This is their life. Not a bad life unless laying eggs really hurts.
I hope it doesn't.

I just talked to the boys. Owen woke up with a little fever this morning. I asked him how he was doing.
"Good," he said. "And bad."
I think he's a little excited to be sick. It's a novelty and he doesn't really feel bad at all. Gibson told me that he is not sick. And that they bought soup noodles at the store. He was pretty excited about that. Maybe tomorrow we shall go to Japanica! and Owen can drink two bowls of miso soup. That should heal him up.

Meanwhile, I'm staying home today. Took a good walk and have plenty of stuff to do around here. And so I shall do it.

Hope all is well with you in your part of the world on this summer day.

Be well.

Love...Ms. Moon

Trial Run

We're so excited it's a wonder we didn't break out champagne.

Not Every Rock Has Meaning, Nor Does Every Vase

Well. I've filled one box and one bag.
The bag is going to the trash depot where I will put it on the side of the trash masher container which is where people in Lloyd set things which someone else may be able to use. Cuts out the middleman of the thrift-store transaction.
The box is filled with glassware that has gone unused for so long that it is lined in Lloyd's oily dust. Also, six silver goblet things, tiny, that my mother gave me and I have no idea what they're for and if you melted them down they'd barely make a bracelet, they're so thin. Hell. Maybe I should check those out before I give them away to one of the kids or maybe I should just give them to one of the kids and if they're valuable- all the better. I have no memory of them as a child. Not like a lot of liquors were drunk in my house.
Codeine was the drug of choice.
Anyway, so it's a start. I've also thrown out a bunch of old supplements that no one is taking and made room in another cabinet for stuff that wasn't inside a cabinet that should have been so that is good.
I've boiled shrimp and have the sheets on the bed that I washed this morning and hung on the line. After supper I plan on washing and organizing and throwing away stuff on the little shelf above the sink. I will keep my mermaids and Seminole Indian dolls but honestly, there's some junk up there I don't even know what is.
I went to lunch with Hank and got to see May and went to the library and to Publix and I ordered new underwear off the internet and so, I guess, in some ways this day has been productive enough. I've been using Amazon like the mall and it sure as hell beats the mall.

It's funny. I feel like I never get anything done and it's always this little thing and that little thing but then I look around and see the plants I've repotted and the plants I've just put in the ground (ornamentals- an experiment) and my weeded and mulched garden and my trimmed up palms and somehow, things do get done and will continue to do so. If I would just take one room at a time and go through each and every thing in it and cull and cull and cull, all would be so much better. Most of it came from the Goodwill anyway, even though I do attach emotional value to things I should not.
It's not like I'm a lazy person. I do the yard and some cleaning and of course there's the ongoing things- the cleaning of the hen house, the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, the toilet cleaning, the...oh hell. You know. The stuff of life.
Which someday, when I am old and gnarled up (if that day should come) and unable to do for myself, I will miss with all of my heart. If, of course, I still have enough of a mind to remember any of it.

Well, the husband is home and I need to make some rice and salad to go with that shrimp. And soon he will have the dishwasher truly in and hooked up and the new cabinet door and drawer back in their places and I can get this kitchen organized and by god, I will, and as I've said before, it's needed doing for a long, long time.

I just have to be ruthless. Which is a word that always strikes me as funny because my mother's name was Ruth. And to think of it all at once is overwhelming but let us think of it as one thing/one day at a time and perhaps, eventually, there will be some order.
I was talking to Lis about this yesterday. I mentioned, as an example of the things I don't know what to do with, is the set of blue bowls my mother passed down to me which are beautiful, in a way, but so old that they are cracked and chipped and I wouldn't dare to use one as they are so fragile and what good are they doing me?
"If I threw them away," I told Lis, "I'd probably never remember I had them."
And this is true.

I need to remember that. That things are not really imbued with spirits, no matter how much we feel they are.
They simply are not.

But I ain't throwing away my plastic angel. Or my Seminole Indian dolls. Or my mermaids. Or my madonnas. Or my vase full of sea glass from Cozumel. Or the little ceramic house that one of my kids made me. Or my aprons. Or the ridiculous creche that came with the house with the pissed-off baby Jesus.

Oh shit. See what I'm up against?
I'm up against me. And me can be a right stubborn bitch.

Love...Ms. Moon

Trying To Find My Lotus Flower, As Lis Would Say

I can't get moving today.
I blame it on the dreams.
So I was in New York City celebrating the fact that I had graduated from high school again because, who knows?
And it was a dream about New York City which was about as absurd as someone FROM New York City dreaming they were in Lloyd being stalked by pythons and bears because people were stealing my stuff and I was trying to wrap a present and my phone wouldn't work and a guy drew a knife on me and it was ridiculous and when I woke up I was totally THANK GOD IT WAS A DREAM!
But I'm still rattled and am not taking a walk and every single thing around here is driving me crazy. The warped doors and dirty floors and mold and mess and clutter everywhere and dammit, I sort of just want to get fifty giant boxes and throw everything in the house in them and have them magically disappear. Poof! Gone! Sixty years of memories and crap.
I mean it.
I don't even give a shit anymore.
I want four rooms with bamboo mats on the floors and one table with a orchid in a clear vase on it.
Okay. Some toilet paper might come in handy.
Why is life so fucking messy?

Took the trash and stopped in at the post office where I saw a woman I know. She was limping badly and had a walking stick the size of whale dick.

"What happened?" I asked.

"My horse fell on me. My pig scared her and she fell right on me."

I had to ask, right?

"Goodness," I said. "Did you break anything?" And as soon as I said that I thought, no, no, no. 

"Nope!" she said, "And do you know why?"

Here it comes, I thought.

"Because I've never drunk cokes. If you drink cokes, your bones get brittle."

Yep. There you go. Everyone in the world who has brittle bones got them from drinking Coca Colas.

Well, those are the highlights from Lloyd today.

I've got laundry going and am going into town to go to lunch with Hank and run by the library and perhaps go to the dreaded Bed Bath and Beyond or maybe Target to see if I can get some sort of organizational shelves to help with this kitchen project and of course the grocery store where I need to pick up a carton of Coca Colas.
Not really. I don't drink the stuff although occasionally I do crave one. As an old lady once said to a friend of May's after the woman's mother had died, "Honey, let's have a Coca Cola. Sometimes there is nothing so soothing as cold Coca Cola."

Cha-Cha just laid an egg and Mick "The Rooster" Jagger is running his fat rump over there to take her back to the flock. He truly is growing into a very fine rooster. He'll probably start fucking Lisa Marie and Elvira here before I know it. I hope that convinces them to be part of the flock. Last night they roosted on top of the hen house and sure as shit, an owl or a hawk is going to get them if they keep doing that.

Even chicken life is messy.

Carry on.

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which Things Are Ripening

Oh, how good it was to see those boys and their mama too! Gibson ran in the house and hugged and hugged me and Owen followed suit. "I have missed you so much!" I told them. "I miss you every day," said Owen. We did all the fun stuff. Owen climbed the fig tree and look what he found! Ripe figs! I can't believe it. We picked all we could reach and no, that's not even enough for a pint of preserves but perhaps, if I let them ripen as we go and put them in the refrigerator, there will be. Or perhaps we shall eat them baked with a bit of goat cheese and honey. I don't know. But aren't they...mmmmm?

Just so pretty. 

We walked down to Papa Jay's where we discovered that Papa Jay's mama has moved her canaries into the store. There were three cages of the birds, yellows and rose-colored. They didn't sing while we were there but we loved watching them for awhile while Papa Jay made sandwiches for some other customers. We bought our Teddy Grahams and Doritos and a grape soda and a Monticello newspaper and as we were checking out, a man came in the store. He appeared to be a bit...uh, possibly inebriated. But the sort of inebriated which may represent his everyday reality. 

"You enjoying the sidewalks?" he growled. 

"Yes, yes we are!" I said.

"I don't like 'em!" he said. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"I have lived in Lloyd my entire life and those sidewalks are NOT Lloyd!"

"Oh," I said. "Well."

I mean, what can you say? Not much. Not one of Lloyd's beautiful trees have been destroyed by the new sidewalks and frankly, I think they are a nice thing. Walking is so much easier on this one-mile stretch of our road from the County Line to the traffic light. Less chance of picking up a tick or chiggers. Less chance of stepping on a snake. 

But. Each to his or her own.

As the boys ate their treats on the porch swing, Owen and I played a new game. New to him, at least. 

"I'm packing my trunk for Paris. And in it I am putting..."

Do you remember this game? 

I started it out and he got it immediately. 

"I am packing my trunk for Paris," I said. "And in it, I am putting my pajamas."

"I am packing my trunk for Paris," Owen said. "And in it, I am putting my pajamas and my pet tarantula."
"I am packing my trunk for Paris," I said. "And in it I am putting in my pajamas, my pet tarantula and a box of chocolates."
"I am packing my trunk for Paris," he said. "And in it, I am putting in my pajamas, my pet tarantula, a box of chocolates and my pet grass snake."
And so forth.
By the time we decided we'd packed enough, ("The trunk is going to explode!" Owen said) we had all of the above plus a turtle, Senor Iguana, Owen's pet fish Moona, a bottle of perfume, a pillow, Owen's favorite cats Parker and Rusty, and a rattlesnake. And a phone.

Mr. Moon came home and got packed for auction and I made his snack bag and his coffee drink and his popcorn and the boys hugged and loved on him and when Gibson ran through the house he tripped on the threshold into the dining room and when I went to pick him up he said, "I want Boppy!" and so I delivered him to his grandfather and soon enough, he was good to go again.

It was, in short, a delicious visit and I hope to see them a lot more this week, maybe doing fun stuff and maybe going to Japanica! which I can't seem to go more than two weeks without craving.

And that was my day. My kitchen is a complete disaster, still. After Mr. Moon gets this dishwasher in for good I'm going to have to rearrange the entire kitchen to make up for the loss of 2/3's of one half of my lower cabinets and a junk drawer.
Yikes!
But it's something that needs to be done and I'm looking forward to doing it. Lis's kitchen inspired me. She has very limited space in hers and yet, manages to fit everything in. She suggested today when we spoke on the phone that I move the bar and glassware stuff to the library and I think that's an excellent idea. Of course, this is going to entail finding some sort of cabinet for the glassware.
I really hadn't considered that I had glassware until Lis pointed it out. It's such a mixture of unmatched pieces.

Oh well. It's certainly not a big deal but I am looking forward to throwing some things out or giving them away.

I went out and picked from the garden after the boys left with their papa.

That tomato in the middle in the front must weigh a pound. More crowder peas, a squash, more cherry tomatoes. The okra is growing and I'm pretty sure it will start blooming and then fruiting in a few days, just as I am fairly sure that the young hens, Elvira and Lisa Marie will start laying soon. It is the season of fecundity.
And let me just add that I read this article about a new roach in Florida the other day. And sure as shit, I saw one in the garden today when I was picking the crowder peas. No mistake and I would bet my life on it.
Just fucking great. Nothing Florida needs more than a new roach species.

Ah well.

It has been a good day. I think for supper I may eat something with tomatoes in it. If lycopene is good for you, we are going to live forever.

Love from North Florida.

Ms. Moon

Books, Magazines, Untold History, WOMEN! And So Forth

Anyone who denigrates Fannie Flagg's writing due to its deceptive simplicity is a fool. I have almost finished listening to this fine book, read by Ms. Flagg, and I have delighted in it. Through it, I have learned about a part of American history I had never heard of which is the fact that during WWII, American civilian women were trained to ferry every type of aircraft used in the war from factories to bases, thus freeing up men for combat, which of course women were definitely not allowed to participate in.
You can read about the Women Airforce Service Pilots here, if you want.
And then, if you'd like to hear more about it woven into the plot line of a novel which brings it and the women who participated in it to full, colorful, breathing life, read Ms. Flagg's book.

That is my service announcement for the day. And oh yes- the book has other themes. Overbearing mothers, adoption, Southern women (of course! it's Fannie Flagg!), love, family, pride, self-worth, and more.

So. I've had my walk, I didn't die again, even after almost a week of complete inactivity. My tomato pie was delicious and so was the roasted chicken. It was so sweet to have Jessie and Vergil at the table. My baby girl is swelling in the belly so nicely.
That little bebe is going to be here before we know it and then so soon to be followed by another.
I still can't believe it.

My boys are coming over in a little while. I have missed them so.

It is summer in Florida and the crickets are humming, the children next door at the church's day camp are obviously having a very good time, and I got this book that I ordered in the mail today.

And that damn cat woke us up five times last night. She wants Temptations all night long. I don't know what we're going to do.

We'll deal with it, just as we must deal with all of it because that is life. The small annoyances and the large worries, the joys, the changes, the sweetness, the bitter.

And in the meantime, we are grateful for the tomatoes, the babies, the blooming flowers and fruiting vines. And books. Always, books.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Sarah- thank you! I found it! Lovely!

That makes my day even sweeter and of course, I'm going to have to buy it.

Supper Time

Jessie and Vergil are here and supper is ready and the men are in the middle of plumbing and stuff and electricity and stuff and there's roast chicken and tomato pie and tomorrow I get to see my boys and I have missed them so.

It rained good and hard today.

And I ordered two simmer mat diffusers online because Lis had one that her sweet sister-in-law gave her and I realized that I need not one, but two. As Lis would say, "It's going to change me life."

Love...Ms. Moon

Detritus

Well, if you're traveling from Tallahassee to anywhere on I-10, don't speed. The radar plane is buzzing like an annoying insect and I'm sure the troopers are lined up with ticket pads at the ready. Gotta make that hay while the sun shines.

I'm blue today. Just...Sunday. My kitchen is torn up and I know it'll all go back together soon but for right now, it's a mess. Putting in a dishwasher involves electricity and plumbing and my husband having to crawl under the house which is never fun, the centuries of composted vermin-dung alone are horrific, not to mention whatever might currently be living there. There are old tin cans and who-knows-what, thrown there by occupants, long, long ago.
Right now he's gone to Lowe's because of course there is always something else you need in a project like this.

We're supposed to go to a pig roast at Alligator Point this afternoon but I just don't think I feel like it. I mean, don't get me wrong. I do love the pig in all of its parts and flavors but a party?
Ugh.

I read that Keith Richards fell last night on the catwalk in Indianapolis but got right back up and seemed to be okay. Jesus, man. Be careful! We need you in an upright position!

Maurice did another runner yesterday and never did show up until about three in the morning when she tapped at the window to be let in. I think she's mad at me. I don't know. I don't have the energy to really care but if she's adopted another family, my heart is broken.

Sunday. All the 4th hoopla is dying down, I am home and faced with reality and heat, mortality and catch-up chores. I wouldn't get on the interstate if you paid me.

I better get moving here. Life goes on. Even on a Sunday.

Be okay, Keith. Gold rings on ya.

Love...Ms. Moon

Home

Today I believe I set the record for the slowest trip from Gator Bone, Florida to Lloyd, Florida ever made by a motorized vehicle. And it was the loveliest trip! It's a joke to everyone I know that I have the poorest sense of direction in the world. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I stay close to home. Anyway, yeah, I made a few wrong turns and probably drove about a hundred extra miles but I had such a good time, driving through the fields and forests and little towns. Such pretty little towns. And I stopped and ate at a Hardee's and I'm not going to tell you what I ate but it was one of the most almost-orgasmic experiences I've ever had and I do not feel guilty although my stomach does hurt a little bit. And I am quite sure that I undid every bit of kale-and-veggie-goodness which I ate for the previous three days and oh well, what the hell, and please- don't you judge me.

Here. I snapped a picture of a guy in a 4th of July shirt leaving Hardee's.

Fancy, huh? And I swear, I saw a woman later wearing the same shirt. I am thinking the local Walmart had a sale on them for the holiday.

Anyway, it was good to have that long drive through the country side. There was little traffic and it gave me a bumper of time to gently unravel the umbilical cord from Lis to me. I hated leaving them. Those three days were the sweetest, most relaxing and peaceful and loving three days I can remember having. And fun. We laughed a lot.
It's hard for me to talk about, how much I love those people.
I am one of the lucky ones in that instead of being afraid of women or disliking women or distrusting them, because of, well, early maternal influences, shall we say, I have sought out women in my life who are nurturing and loving and kind as my friends and in Lis...
All right. I can't talk about it.
And Lon is the same way, but a fella, and when I left, they were standing there, hand-in-hand, and I know they'll be fine and they no more need me there than the man in the moon, but still, it was mighty hard to leave.
So yes. It was good to take a long, leisurely drive home, avoiding the interstates, crossing rivers and driving by lakes, listening to a book written and read by Ms. Fannie Flagg. Rather perfect in many ways.

And it is so nice to be home now. My chickens are all fine and laid me six good eggs and I picked tomatoes

and I think enough crowder peas to make a mess for our dinner.

And I am home with my own sweetheart, my own good fella. He has mowed the grass and he's working like a fiend on that dishwasher.

Dear Lord. How very, very lucky I am.

Yes. I do have a very small life but within the confines of it, there is so much richness. So much joy and beauty. So much love.

As far as the eye can see. And that's all I need and more.

Love...Ms. Moon

All Good

We are living the dream here, y'all.
Gorgeosity is everywhere and Lis took a walk with Lon down the driveway this morning (they have a long driveway through the woods) before I even got up. Hey! I read until way too late.

Lon made us kale and berry and peach smoothies and then a few hours later, I made a hash of potatoes and kale and broccoli and tomatoes and a tiny bit of chicken and onions and cooked all of that with some of our eggs.
We also had leftover cucumbers and tomatoes from last night. Lis set the table. She is doing everything she can get away with.
This is brunch setting, Lis style:

There are perhaps as many definitions of graceful and gracious as there are of the people who represent these traits. When I tell you that Lon and Lis embody every one of them, I am not exaggerating. Ask anyone who knows them. They will not disagree. 

It is such an honor and a joy to hang out with these people. 

Yesterday we spent half the day on the bed watching "Call The Midwife," as I said before, often all three of us cozied up on the bed together. We kept joking that Lon was truly the luckiest guy in the world except for the fact that the two women were both fully dressed and he was having to watch possibly the most estrogen-fueled TV series ever made. 

Let me just say that he slept through a great deal of it and I cried a lot. 

We promised him that we would watch something different today. He's such a gentleman, though, that he'd let us break our promise if we really wanted to.

I hear that all is well at home. Imagine! Life is going on without me!

Well, there was a bit of a scare in that Maurice disappeared for almost 24 hours but then she showed back up to both mine and Mr. Moon's great relief. She helped him unpack his work-out bag this morning. 

I know, right? It's a cat. 

Our cat. Our silly cat whom we really do care about way too much because we are too old to have a baby although Owen seems a bit obsessed with the idea that I would like to have another one of my own. I keep telling him that now is the time for me to have grandchildren and that is exactly what I want, but anytime he plays a magical creature who can grant me wishes, that's the wish he suggests. And remember when he told Boppy that I was leaving him for a new husband in Las Vegas but that it was okay because Boppy could marry a new wife, a younger wife? 

Yeah. He's scamming for one of us to have another baby. I wonder why. Not like there aren't enough babies coming to satisfy him. And it's a moot point, of course. He will just have to be satisfied with Maurice and the chickens as our babies and I think he really is. 

Life is so funny. It all seems to go so fast which, I suppose, is the very best reason of all to be mindful. To take each moment as separately as possible. To notice it, to be in it. An easier thing to do when healing is taking place, when life, perforce, slows down. 

I am just incredibly grateful to be able to be here, to be able to witness Lis come back into bloom. She is a rose and what could be more beautiful than to be able to experience that sort of sweetness and beauty?

Well, that's it from me now. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Being Here Now

All is so well here in the magical kingdom of Gator Bone. I am watching Lis get better, moment by moment. It is nothing sort of astounding and I am afraid that soon her problem is going to be wanting to do too much. The grass does not grow under Ms. Williamson.
But, for now, we are quite content to take walks around the living room, to eat extremely healthy and tasty foods, to chat, and we have watched two episodes of "Call The Midwife." I could not be happier.

And I'm not just saying that.
I had one of the sweetest dreams last night. It was like one of my regular dreams in the situation but my attitude towards everything that was happening was accepting and and even merry rather than anxious and fearful.
Odd. But I loved it.

So here I am and I can't think of one place on this earth I'd rather be.

That's my report.

Love...Ms. Moon

Cozy In Gator Bone

I am just incredibly grateful to be here. Sweetest place in the world which is pretty much where you'd imagine the dearest people in the world might live.

Sweet dreams in this full moon night, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It is July 1 and so it goes, the year half over already.
The little storm we had last night was nothing compared to what happened in Tallahassee where about half of the entire city lost power as trees snapped and fell. No one was hurt, supposedly, and I can never figure out how that can happen but thank goodness it does.

It's my Lis I'm going to go see today. I just talked to her and she's so happy to be at home although, because Lis is Lis, she said concerning the hospital, "It was a fabulous experience for what it was."
I mean...seriously?
That woman.

I hear that people are bringing food to her from far and wide so we'll be lounging about, taking little walks, heating up delicious things to eat and enjoying each other's company. And with me there, hopefully Lon can catch up a little on what he needs to do. He's been the best caretaker, the sweetest. The most loving. Of course.

And of course, I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to leave here. It's been almost forever since I truly left home. Will Mr. Moon be able to take care of himself and the chickens and the duck and the cat? Of course he will. Will he pick the crowder peas? Will he keep up with the cherry tomatoes? Will he overdose on soup?
Oh, he'll be fine. He'll be fine.

My chickens have laid me six eggs already, I am going to pack now.

I will catch up later from the Enchanted Kingdom of Gator Bone.

Much love...Ms. Moon