The News From Here

Blooming Japanese Magnolia

Well, it was about the sweetest Valentine's ever. We had such fun last night. Lon and Lis played with their from-way-back-in-the-day friend and fellow musician, Rick Kuncicky, at a very small but huge in the heart place called The Blue Tavern. Opened and run by musicians it's one of those special venues where you immediately feel at home and when Lon and Lis play in Tallahassee, it is like going to see family in a lot of ways. They and Rick were raised here and the sort of allegiance they get is never-ending so you always see the same people who gather to enjoy it all. We grow older but no less enthusiastic in our love for the music and the people who make it.
Rick is an amazing fingerpicking guitar player. Close your eyes and you might think you're listening to Les Paul. And I've known him for approximately forever and remember when he and his then-wife and his brother and his then-wife played in a band called Michelangelo a million years ago and I'd pay damn good money to hear them play once again. They were fabulous.
Rick's nephew was there last night and I remember the night he was born. He's heard the story more than once from a lot of different people because he was born during a music festival (although in the hospital, not at the festival) and I remember hearing that he'd arrived when I was at Smitty's Club which I have written about before. There was great jubilation to hear that he'd been born. That was the summer that every hippie woman I knew was pregnant and we all gave birth within weeks of each other. We were all so young and filled with life and brave and drunk on the joy of bringing that life into being, carrying our bellies proudly under our hippie Made In India dresses; we were goddesses all.
And this boy was one of those babies as was Hank.
In fact, he came up to me during a break and said, "I just want you to know that Hank is one of the biggest inspirations in my life."
"Mine, too," I said.
There was a family there, a man, a wife, and their daughter, and Lis had gone to high school with the wife and they've been friends since then. The daughter was differently abled, I guess you'd say and that is actually a descriptive phrase that I love although aren't we all differently abled? But she was so obviously adored by her mama and her daddy and she held on to them and talked to them and kissed them and before they left, she danced with her father, holding on to him with all of the love that any father would wish from his daughter and just seeing her safe there, in his arms, was almost more than I could bear. After the song was over, they took their leave and since they were sitting right in front of the stage, the girl reached out to Lis and told her she loved her and Lis said, "Come give me a hug," and the girl did and Lis said, "I love you, too."
The entire room was silent for a moment while we all struggled to get ourselves back together.
So it was like that.

When Lon and Lis arrived yesterday afternoon, Jessie was here with August and Levon. Lon and Lis are Jessie's fairy godfather and godmother and theirs is a life-long mutual love affair. August immediately glommed on to Lis and had her helping him with a puzzle in the library before we'd hardly said hello. Levon was shy but poked his head up from my arms or his mama's to ponder these strangers.
August is sporting a cast right now and no, nothing is broken.

I haven't written about it because Jessie feels terrible but the reason August is wearing the cast is that last weekend in the bathtub, August was kicking his brother and when Jessie told him to stop, he wouldn't (our perfect August? WHAT?) and she grabbed him up and in doing so, he got what is referred to as "nursemaid's elbow" which is a sort of elbow dislocation and it's very, very common. Not serious at all but she was devastated because he cried and wouldn't move his arm and quite frankly, Jessie has suffered from guilt a thousand times more than August has suffered from pain. He's been to three different doctors and the final one, at an orthopedic clinic, decided that he'd cast the arm for two weeks just to let it heal but I think that if Jessie didn't have insurance they would have done nothing. 

But. That's just my thinking. 

I believe he'll live. 

Meanwhile, he's hurtling through life basically one-armed as if that arm in the cast had been merely a luxurious and unnecessary appendage. He was helping me make bread in the first picture of him and was driving the tractor (don't worry, it's not running) in the second picture which also thrilled Levon. 

We didn't get home from the Blue Tavern last night until after midnight at which point I was way too old and tired for a martini but we managed to stay awake long enough to all enjoy a piece of the berry pavlova which I'd made and damn, I wish I had a picture. That stuff was GOOD! And pretty. 

This morning Mr. Moon had to go to work and so he was up and out fairly early and I didn't sleep too long and I made breakfast for the three of us who didn't have to get to a job and we sat around and enjoyed that, drinking coffee and chatting for a good long while before they had to pack up and leave. They're playing in Apalachicola tonight and Destin the night after that. They're calling it the Tri-County tour and it is. 

I just love those people so much. As I've said before, they know me as well as almost anyone on earth and despite that, they love me still. When they leave it's a true Southern good-bye which can last almost as long as the visit in some cases. There are hugs, there are kisses, there are OH! I-wanted-to-tell-you's! There are more hugs and kisses. There are thanks-for-coming's and there are see-you-soon's and there are don't-leave's!

And finally they do leave and there are shouts of I-love-you's! 

I dry my eyes and walk back into the house and give thanks for such friends. 

So that's how it's been. 

I've stayed close to home all day. 

Here. Lily sent me this picture.

The slam-dunk baby girl. 

And here's one more picture of Levon. 

He loves that book. 

And the native Buckeye I planted. 

It's about to put on its tender spring bloom. 

Lord, we need to pressure wash this house. Let's not even discuss painting it. 

Sigh. 

We go on with love and with music, with food and with friends, with family and with sleep. 

We go on. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Starlight Trio (It’s A Lovely Evening)

Happy Valentine’s!

Love...Ms. Moon

How I Am Celebrating Valentine's Day

Front Porch With Cat

Well. Thank goodness that occasionally I still get company because otherwise I would never do any cleaning around here. Although what I did today hardly qualifies as real cleaning and whenever I hear the phrase "deep cleaning" I sort of want to die. Wouldn't that require knee pads and a scrub brush? 

No thank-you.

But Lon and Lis are coming tomorrow for a very, very, way-too-short visit and so it was time to get out the white vinegar and Fabuloso and wash the rugs and chase a few tumbleweed-sized dust balls out from underneath the beds. 

Etc. 

While I was at it, I threw away a VCR player (YES! I SAID VCR!) and all of the attendant cords and took a huge pile of games that were on the sideboard in the dining room to the library where they're supposed to live although I left all of the cards and the ever-favorite matching game where they were. As I was doing all of this I was listening to a book in which one of the characters is a hoarder who was defined as "someone who is pathologically attached to inanimate objects."

I do not think I am pathologically attached to inanimate objects but I know that it's hard for me to throw things away. I believe I fall in the normal range of this sort of behavior but still, I like the perspective of that definition and will tuck it into my back pocket to remind me that it is not healthy in the least to hold on to shit that really has no meaning in my life. And as I went about my tidying today I kept thinking about that and it helped me to get rid of a few things. There are plenty more I want to get rid of but some of them require Mr. Moon to use his muscles. A TV in our bedroom that we NEVER watch. An old iMac which I loved to death. I wrote a few novels on that thing and every moment of that writing felt like heaven. 

Oh, the memory of plugging in a new Mac and hearing that chime which sounds a little bit like the chord on Abbey Road right between "And In The End" and "Her Majesty's A Pretty Nice Girl". That was magic for me. 

But I do not need an old, inoperable iMac to remind me of that. It has served its purpose and I am quite ready to let it go. 

I also made a vegetable and venison soup that I fussed with and added to all day long. I am so happy with my newly repaired simmer burner. It's exquisitely controllable for the lowest flame possible and I wonder if I'll ever use my Crock-Pot again. Probably not. This is so much better. 

The soup has all of the vegetables in it and after it sits all night in the refrigerator will be even better tomorrow. Lon and Lis are playing in Tallahassee tomorrow night and will be getting here in the late afternoon and I figure that if they want a little sustenance before they play this will do the trick and if we're all hungry after the gig, it will be waiting. I'll make a nice loaf of bread tomorrow and my love was in every bit of every part that went into that soup which will make it a fine Valentine's Day meal. 

Lis and I were talking today about how we both used to look forward so much to Valentines from our sweeties. How we put so much importance on those cards, those gifts and how now, we don't care a thing about it all. We know these men love us. They prove it every day. And they know we love them. 

So. Soup and bread and listening to music played by beloved people who have been beloveds for forty years with my beloved of over thirty-five years. 

And I might make some sort of lovely dessert and oh, yeah, there will probably be "Valentinis" as Lis called martinis that you drink on Valentine's Day. 

Ooh boy. I sure am glad I still get company occasionally. Well, at least THIS sort of company. 

Happy Valentine's Eve, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Kid Stuff

Another busy day. Went to town and ran some errands, saw August and Levon, read August some books. Came home and finished up a few chores I had here and then Mr. Moon and I went to see Gibson's first grade musical presentation.
It was pretty awesome. The theme was animals. Always a popular subject. Gibson is the opposite of how Owen always is in these situations who looks like he'd rather be anywhere in the world but on the stage. It's painful to watch him. But Gibson gets into it with all the joy that little guy has in him. He sings and sways and does hand movements and and smiles and just enjoys himself tremendously.
So we did that.
And then we rushed over to another school where Owen had a basketball game.

And that was pretty exciting and it was fun to watch my big guy play basketball. 

His team lost but no one seemed too upset about it. 

And honestly, that's it for my exciting news today. It was a little out of the ordinary to find a trollish comment on my last post. I swear- I think that's the first troll comment I've ever gotten unless you count spam. And even this one wasn't too personal as it was mostly directed towards all of the Baby Boomers whom she (he?) wishes would just drop dead. 

We're working on it, honey. It'll happen. 

Let's see what tomorrow brings. 

Love...Ms. Moon

You'll Find No Household Tips Here

This morning as I was doing something utterly useless online, Dearie came onto the porch for her morning ritual of trying to figure out where to lay her egg and how to get into that space and sometimes sitting for awhile and then leaving and then coming back and so forth and while she was just walking about she jumped up on the table to stare at me.
I haven't fed her on the porch in months and I completely got the feeling she was just coming to check me out and say hello. Which was fine with me. She's such a sweet and bold bird. She's been laying her eggs in the paper bag with the shallots in it and that's what she did today, too.

I love that chicken. 

So I actually drove down to White House Road for my walk today and it went well. I didn't walk so far but my pace was quite good. Unless my Map My Walk App is wonky which is always a possibility. But I was glad to have done that and then I spent about forty-eight hundred hours trying to clean the hard water spots off of my glass shower door. 

Not really but honestly, that's been like one of my hobbies lately- trying to clean that door.

I've googled the problem and nothing all the experts recommend has worked for me. Today I sunk to the level of attempting to do it using toothpaste and then vinegar and no, that didn't work either. 

Fuck it. 

I ain't Martha Stewart who no doubt has an entire household staff to deal with that sort of shit and if her shower doors become uncleanable she can just buy some new ones, have them delivered and installed. 

Problem solved. 

For Martha. 

I really don't have any problems with Martha Stewart. She handled her jail time with a great deal of grace if you ask me, she seems to love her chickens, and besides that (and most importantly) she is friends with Snoop Dogg and if I envy her for anything it's that and that alone. 

What the hell am I talking about?

I have no idea.

So tonight I'm going to cook another NYT's recipe, this one for orecchiette with cherry tomatoes and arugula although I have no orecchiette and will just use some sort of pasta that I have in the cabinet. I sure do have arugula though. Finally my greens are at least plentiful enough for regular salads and we have been enjoying that so much. Last night I made a salad of mixed greens and blueberries and apples and strawberries and toasted pecans and blue cheese with a sort of sesame, tamari, ginger dressing. 

Was it good?

Does Martha Stewart sleep on ten billion thread count sheets made by blind nuns in a cave in Provence every night?

Amen, mama. 

I do have to say that the arugula is already bolting and dammit, I am NOT ready for summer. I came back from my walk sweating today. The violets are blooming, the Ashe magnolia has put on its little green velvet gloves, ferns are busting up light green through the dirt, the Japanese magnolias are blooming, and yes, as we speak the frogs are deafening. They want love and they want it now. 

Y'all! I don't want to put the duck away yet. I don't want to have to turn on the AC. I'm not tired yet of my Goodwill cashmere. 

Well, what I want has nothing to do with what is and that's just a fact, sad as it may be. 

Okay, for your viewing pleasure I give you this. 

I'd apologize for posting it before if I have but I won't because it's funny enough to watch twice.
I sure wish I could have Mr. Dogg over for a meal. I may not be Martha Stewart but I feel certain that he and I could be friends.
In my dreams.

Love...Ms. Moon

Oh Yeah, It's Sunday

Today has been one of those days where everything feels off a step. A tiny beat behind the music messing up the rhythm. We all have those days. Nothing really horrible, just tiny speed bumps like the strips they lay before a four-way stop at a big intersection to tell you to slow down as they interrupt the smoothness of the ride.
I can't even point to any incidents to illustrate this. It's just felt this way.
Something's off.

Right now the chickens are deciding roosting arrangements. Ringo and his three hens always sleep in trees these days and more and more of Dearie's children are joining them at night. There is fussing and great flapping of wings as the chickens prove their birdness by flying up into the branches. I can't help but wonder what it is that motivates these wayward chickens to sleep outside. I see no real benefit to it. The two roosters may feel as if the hen house just isn't big enough for both of them but in all actuality, it certainly is. Up until recently they even slept in the same nest box but something has changed that. The trees are certainly not as safe to sleep in, I would think, and sometimes it's cold and sometimes it's raining. Plus, in the mornings, the tree-sleepers do not have access to the coop where the feeders are which is a huge thing, I would think. They have to wait for me to go and open up the door of the hen house so that they can rush in and eat.
Oh, who knows?
Not me.
I tell you what I do know- I have too many fucking roosters.

These are two of the Dearie/Liberace chicks. The one in the rear is a hen, I think, while the one in the foreground definitely seems to be growing tail-feathers and is noticeably larger.

Here are two of the Dearie/Ringo chicks and aren't they beautiful? I have a feeling they are both roosters. I don't think the females are this brightly colored although the one on the left MAY be a hen as her tail feathers seem to point down like his (her's) Aunt Vera or Viv's whose butt is also in the picture. 

And that's just a few of the eight. I haven't actually made a count of them all yet as to who appears to be male and who appears to be female but casual observance seems to show a preponderance of males and I do not know what I am going to do and yes, I have discussed this before but this is one of the things I've pondered today as I went about the yard work I was doing. 

I trimmed and pulled and dug up roots and then I finished weeding the carrots and was attacked by ants who stung me. The only thing that made all of this bearable was the book I'm listening to which is Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty. I think that Amazon has done a series based on this book but I haven't seen it and just by the name of it, had some preconceptions which have turned out to be completely false. Some may call the book by that horrible name Chick Lit but I am enjoying it tremendously and the narrator is great and the characters are excellent and the insights and writing itself keep surprising me. So there is that. 

Why is a book whose main characters are all women called something so demeaning as Chick Lit? What do they call a book whose main characters are all men? Do they call it Dick Lit? No. They do not. They simply call it literary fiction. 

Fuck that. 

As you may be able to tell from my use of the word "fuck" in this post, I am not in the best of moods. I do not know why. I guess it's all part of this speed-bumpy, off-rhythm day. And I should be in a good mood! I actually did some physical labor AND yes, I did clean out the knife drawer. I can now open it without something getting stuck. 

So impressive. I know. 

Well, some days are just like this. You have to just get on with things until the end of it and go to sleep and hope that you'll found the rhythm again in the morning. 

Dance in peace, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sleeping Is The Decluttering Of The Mind And It Sure Sparks Joy In Me

That is not a good photo, obviously.
The bee is in shadow but it was the best I could do this morning. I wanted to grasp the stem of the camellia and tip it up towards the light but I did not dare to touch it lest I disturb the bee who was so industriously making love to the blossom in the privacy of that deep, shadowed pinkness.

I was not industrious at all today. In fact, I slept for an hour and a half this afternoon on a bed that didn't even have a sheet on it. Last night I bled from a healing burn on my forearm I'd gotten a few days ago while pulling a large sheet pan out of the oven.
Chef scars. We all have them. Even if we're not chefs.
Anyway, it was just a little blood on the bottom sheet but I was gathering laundry and threw that in with it and when I laid down on the bed, I pulled the duck up over me and did not care a bit that I was lying on the mattress cover which is rather soft in and of itself. Jack was already napping there and he moved to my side and rested his body against mine and we slept hard. When I woke up I truly did not know what time of day or even year it was. I had surrendered to sleep entirely.

It was so nice, having Jessie and the boys here last night. After we got the children to bed we had martinis and ate our own supper and watched a show on Netflix about huge, crazy houses and the two we saw were made of concrete and steel and they were horrible, horrible and I would much rather live in a cabin in a state park than one of those things. Or maybe even a tent. If it was a nice tent. It's called "The World's Most Extraordinary Homes" and yes, they were extraordinary but not in a good way. The two people who host the show kept saying things like, "I love the way that they have created this intimate space within all of this industrial design," blah, blah, blah. What a tribute to the saying Just because you can doesn't always mean you should. At least in my universe. But still we enjoyed making fun of this bullshit while we ate our eggplant parmesan.

August slept well in our room as he always does and when he woke up he slipped out without us even knowing but soon he was knocking on our door. He wanted his Boppy to come and watch TV with him. Boppy did just that and I got up and started making waffles and bacon. While I was cooking, Levon, who is notoriously shy of almost everyone including his grandfather, went up to the big chair where Boppy and August were sitting and raised up his arms and snuggled in with them. He could not possibly have made Glen happier.

He's slowly coming around to letting us all love on him. 

Every time I make waffles I think about how once, when August was quite small, we were in Asheville and had gone to a restaurant for breakfast and August was starving and in his tiny little baby-boy voice he told the waiter, "Waffies. Please." He was so plaintive. 

He ate every bite on that plate except for some of the bacon. 

Waffies still rock the child's world. 

After breakfast Jessie packed things up and she and her babies and Mr. Moon headed out to a soccer game of Gibson's. I stayed behind and leisurely cleaned up and did laundry and tackled the junk drawer. 

I only really have four drawers in my kitchen. Two of them are in the kitchen island and one holds silverware, the other random knives and cutting implements including the pastry cutter and knife sharpener and crab crackers. In other words, another sort of junk drawer. I keep the utensils I actually use in various jars and pitchers beside the stove and on the kitchen island, and the knives I use in a knife holder on the island too. One of the other two drawers in the kitchen holds aluminum foil and plastic wrap (which I am truly trying to use less of) and wax paper and it did hold rubber bands and the canning funnel and the small regular funnel and a small strainer and the drawer is not big and things were always getting stuck and this morning I said, "This thing is going to be the death of me!" With vehemence. 

And finally, the last drawer is the junk drawer. 

So. I cleaned it out. We have enough batteries to light up many nights and those stayed although they are now all contained in bags instead of just rolling around randomly. I made a donate pile in which the set of steak knifes has gone. Steak knives? Really? Also going away are about twenty shish kabob skewers. Did I go through a shish kabob phase? Why? When? I threw out some telephone cords. You know- real telephone cords? One end plugs into a phone and the other end plugs into the wall where the phone line comes in? Remember those? I discovered I have many, many boxes of matches and one matchbook from The Stardust casino in Las Vegas which is now gone. I'm holding on to that for posterity. I threw away instruction booklets for appliances we no longer own. I got rid of other items in there which were just holding space and gumming up my life and was thus able to put some of the stuff from the aluminum foil drawer in the larger drawer and so my life will now be better and will spark more joy. 

Please. I do love that phrase. I'm using it a lot in my mind. 

Tomorrow I may attack the knife drawer. I hope it doesn't attack me back. 

Perhaps I can slowly take control of my kitchen, my closets, my life. I know I've vowed and sworn to do this before but hey! This could be the year!

The guy who lives next door has band practice at his place tonight. I have to say that his band has improved a small, tiny amount from a few months ago when I was finally at the end of my rope and went over there and knocked on the door and told him I JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! 

Not a whole lot of improvement but some. And I can tell they're practicing on the other side of the house. Still. I could live without it. 

Other than that, all is peaceful here in Lloyd and Mr. Moon should be returning soon from an FSU basketball game. He's been busy all day. After Gibson's game he took Owen shopping for baseball cleats and basketball shoes. 

He's such a good grandfather. 

And Owen has feet like a St. Bernard puppy. 

I think I'll go make a salad. And there is silence from next door. Hopefully they're getting so stoned that they won't be able to play anymore although having known way more than my share of musicians, I know that that is not really possible. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pictures

There's August in his dress. Honestly, it's sort of funky and it's too short but he wanted a dress and mission accomplished. He's watching Tarzan on the TV. Not with his Bop because his Bop isn't home yet. I just went in there to check on him and he said, "Don't watch this, Mer! It's too scary!"
Hmmmm....

Jessie and the boys are spending the night because Vergil's out of town and mostly it's just fun. And mostly I'm just going to give you a few pictures because my day has been filled to the brim and I need to get in there and help Jessie get those boys fed and make up August's bed. 

Here's a beautiful picture.

Maggie and Levon at lunch. Honestly, this may be one of my favorite pictures ever. 

August learning to sew. This involved sitting beside me and asking "Why?" every 3.2 seconds. I tried very hard to tell him why and show him things. He can now probably sew his own dress. 

Levon being completely and utterly entertained by sticking his hand in a glass of water. 

Life is good. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe To Last Night's Post

Right before Maggie and I left my house yesterday to go pick up her brothers at the bus stop, she had informed me that her babies were awake and needed milk. Earlier she had put them in the cradle and covered them up and rocked them to sleep and sung them a lullaby before she and I played a game of cards. But then, as good mothers do, she had heard them wake up and knew what they needed. She came to me and asked for milk in a cup for them and I got her some pretend milk in a sippy cup. Then I got busy getting myself ready to leave and finding her shoes and putting them on her and getting her in her car seat.

When I got home last evening, I found her babies waiting patiently for their milk right where she'd put them.

I love that little girl. She has stolen her MerMer's heart. 

WHOA! (Warning: Many Run-On Sentences Ahead)

I've been busy today doing little bits of this and little bits of that and taking care of Maggie and then her brothers this afternoon because Jason and Lily's schedules overlapped and I happily stepped in and helped. That's the purple dress that I bought Maggie the other day and I did take a picture of her in it that shows the beautiful embroidered front but I did not realize that I was also taking a picture of a toilet and even I have my standards.
(Is that a pun? Isn't there a Standard plumbing fixtures company?)
Anyway, I also worked on August's dress and did other household chores and the guy who fixes stoves came by and changed my life, I'm sure, by fixing my simmer burner which for about the past six months has not worked. He's got that thing lighting and set so that it'll go so low that as he said, "Butter wouldn't melt off paper over that."
I'm so happy.

Maggie and I played some cards in a sort of game. She's so damn funny and cute. She gives me this look with wide open eyes and a round mouth and says, "WHOA!" I mean, she's freaking adorable. In that picture she's looking at the train which is passing by. "I want to ride the train," she told me.
"Right?" I said.
The other day she informed me that some trains have seats on them for people to sit on. "You ride the train with me?" she asked.
"Oh, Maggie. That would be so much fun!"
And it would.

She did not want to leave the house but we had to go get her brothers from the bus stop and I told her that I'd take them all to a little store where they could each buy a toy. I was talking about the Bad-Girls-Who-Get-Saved-Jesus thrift store, of course.
We drove to the bus stop and she fell asleep before the bus got there and the boys were so excited to see me and then when I told them we could go to the thrift store they were ecstatic. Gibson had a riddle book and the whole way there he read riddles to us and we tried to answer them.
"Why did the pony gargle?"
"Because he was a little horse."
"Which animal always knows the time?"
"A watch dog."
Etc.
I was so proud when I knew the answer.
But I was a lot prouder of Gibson for being able to read the riddles. He's a very good reader.

The kids each picked out a toy at the BGWGSBJ thrift store which was fun except for the fact that there was a creepy-looking guy there wearing a silver cross around his neck who appeared to need to shop for toys at the same time as my grandchildren. I went into extreme Grandmother Bear mode and did not even avert my eyes from him. WTF, people? Goddam.
But they got great toys. Gibson got some sort of kit to make different animals with things I can't even describe and Owen got a completely new, sealed Power Rangers Mega Block kit to make a Power Ranger. Or something. And Maggie got an eight pack of unopened, still-in-the-box Play Dough.
SCORE!
I drove them back to their house and Gibson read us some more riddles.
They all got into their toys but a problem arose when Maggie decided after about ten minutes of Play Dough time that she wanted to play with some of the pieces of Gibson's kit. She'd only slept for about fifteen minutes and she became inconsolable and despite everything I did or said she would not stop wailing so finally I told Gibson to PLEASE SHARE! and he did but then he started to cry and it turned out that Maggie didn't want to share, not really, she wanted the whole thing.
So now I had two kids crying and Gibson undid what he'd made and said, "Maggie, you are making me do this!" and I said, "No, you're choosing to do it yourself," and Maggie was crying in the other room and I finally just said, "Okay, y'all do what you have to do," and eventually Maggie stopped crying and started playing with a baby doll and Gibson went back to making his animals.
And then Jason got home.
By this time no one was crying and they all gave me hugs and kisses and I drove home and here I am.

I better go make supper.

I think I'm going to sleep really, really well tonight.
I hope you do too.

Love...Ms. Moon

What Place Is This? Where Are We Now?

So how in the world have I missed this mess within half a mile from my house? It COULD be the result of a person with some sort of dyslexia trying to write "dog" but I'd bet the ranch a Trump supporter put it there. That just says it all, doesn't it?
I watched the damn stupid SOTU speech last night and was absolutely amazed that the man could read that many words for so long. I'm sure you know what I thought of the speech and I'm sure we can agree that Nancy Pelosi rocked the joint and was the boss of everyone without saying a word.

I loved all the ladies in white. They did some ruling of their own. And I was really looking forward to Stacey Abrams' response to the speech but I have to tell you that I was slightly disappointed. She was too nice and too pleasant. I wanted to see a little more fire which I know she's capable of. Her time, of course, was very limited but still- there was so much that Trump did not talk about which she could have brought up and I wish she had. 

Speaking of fire, Jessie had a small one today in her car. She's been having battery problems and bought a new one yesterday and put it in the car and today when she was driving, all sorts of lights lit up and the car stopped running and most fortuitously she was on a road where she could slowly ease off the road. 

She noticed that it was smoking under the hood, raised it up and saw flames whereupon she got the boys safely out of their seats and away from the vehicle. 

In another stroke of luck she was just a few minutes away from where her daddy works and he got there before the fire department. 

Mercifully, no one was hurt, the car was towed to the shop, and Mr. Moon had a car he could lend to Jessie.  Hero Daddy. And of course Vergil had just left this morning for a work trip to Chicago. Isn't that always the way? I'm sure August had a million questions, all of them beginning with "why?" 

Moving on. I actually took a walk this morning which is when I took the picture up at the top. I also took this one. 

That's better. 

I waved to the No Man Lord guy and several other people. I didn't drive over to White House Road to walk, I just walked the sidewalk as far as it goes in Lloyd and came on back. A small walk but a beginning. 

And y'all! I cut out August's dress on the table on my back porch and why have I not been doing this forever? Thank every one of you for suggesting a table because it just never occurred to me. And this really is a perfect table for cutting on. It's scarred and old and worn and kid-painted. I do have to clear all my stuff off of it but that's no big deal. So thank-you, thank-you, thank-you. I got it cut out and more than halfway sewn. It's a very simple pattern. 

Which does not mean that the seam ripper hasn't already been in use. 

To be honest. 

I've got snapper filets marinating in mojo and orange juice and lime juice and achiote which I brought back from Cozumel in the form of paste and liquid. I'd never seen the liquid before and that's what I'm using tonight. I've picked some mustards and a few collards and kale from the garden and am going to saute those and cook some rice and that's going to be our supper. 

It's felt so much like spring today that I've been thrown back into fifteen years ago when we moved in here and honestly, I'm a little sad. I would not mind some more cold, or at least our definition of it. I am most likely just looking for an excuse to hibernate which is what I still feel like doing. I think about all of the spring-things that need doing and I sigh in resignation. 

At my age, the seasons roll around so fast that I can't keep up with where we are on the calendar. 

I suppose I need to slow down and pay attention. 

One more thing- today is the twenty-fourth anniversary of the death of a dear friend of mine. Her's was the first death I really and truly experienced. I went with her through diagnosis, treatment, and finally, death. We were the sort of friends who had no secrets and when she went on, there were four of us who loved her holding her and she went so peacefully, so quickly, that it was a gift to us all and I love her forever. And oh god, how I miss her still. 

Susan Suchan. 

Smartest woman I probably ever knew. And I probably danced with her more than I've danced with anyone else in my entire life. 

There's so much more I could say but for now, I'll just say that I'm so lucky that she was in my life. I can look back and smile, even as I weep. And she made me feel more than ever that death is not anything at all to fear. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Too Tired To Title

We did go to see the lovely and wonderful Melissa today. I got my hair trimmed and we figured out that it was the first time in eighteen months.
Yeah, my hair's gotten pretty long.
She only cut about an inch or so off so I can't even tell the difference.
Jessie got a darling cut. I didn't get a picture but I've asked her to send me one.
And August was about to die to get his hair cut too. So Melissa put him up in the chair and wrapped the cape/drape over him and pretended to use the electric clippers on his neck and sideburns and as you can see, he liked the results. He also got the powder brushed onto his neck with the big brush and I think he enjoyed that part too.
Levon is still quite content with his baby-mullet and he and I went outside and explored around the little courtyard. He was more comfortable with me today than I think he ever has been. When I got to their house he was in the hallway and I could hear him saying, "Hi! Hi!" and he came running to me and showed me his truck and he even held his arms up for me to pick him up. Since Mr. Moon and I babysat for him a few weeks ago, he's been shy of me, afraid, I think, that his mama is going to leave again but today he didn't seem to have those fears and while Jessie and August was getting their hair cut, Levon let me hold him and he sleepily and happily removed coins from my wallet into my open palm and then put them back into the wallet, over and over again. His mama used to do things like that. I called her my "project" baby because she would amuse herself for good long periods of time by doing simple things like moving blocks from one place to another or sorting toys. August, on the other hand, was far more interested in the prospect of me giving him some of my change. He's already starting to figure this money thing out, as children all do eventually.

I took the two different fabrics to show August and yes, of course he chose the one all of you thought he would. Dinosaurs doing construction. I do like that print although the camping one charms me even more. Perhaps I'll make Maggie a dress out of that one. Or a quilt.

And that was the highlight of my day. I STILL don't feel that great. Mr. Moon had to go back to the doctor yesterday. He's been having headaches again and I could tell just from his voice that his sinus infection was not cured despite a full course of antibiotics. The doctor put him on a different antibiotic AND a round of steroids which no one wants to do but come on. The doctor told him that the next step would be a CT scan of his sinuses and his brain which is really reassuring. I told him that he didn't have a brain tumor. I mean- it's obvious his sinuses are still fucked up and besides that, he got his nose broken so many times when he was playing basketball that he's already had to have surgery a long time ago and they told him he'd no doubt have to have it again so hey! Let's go with the meds! As for me, I don't feel bad enough to go to the doctor. I really don't think I've developed a secondary infection, I just keep having what seem like cold symptoms.
Ay-yi.
Well, it's warming up and today felt for sure like spring. Time to get my peas planted but I am discouraged about the garden. The chickens got in the other day and ate the collards to the ground along with most of the kale. Thankfully they leave the mustards and arugula and carrots alone.

Going to watch the State of the Union tonight?
I doubt we will although it's sort of like craning your neck when you pass a damn car wreck. WHAT MIGHT HE SAY TONIGHT?
Oh god have mercy on our souls.

All right. Here's two pictures I stole from Facebook.

Time to go make the gourmet supper. 

I'll check in tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Rare Shopping Outing

How can it be that the trillium are already blooming again? I would never have even thought to look but I finally got out the garden cart to pick up branches in the front yard and there they were. And it was almost spring-like today. The skies were blue and the temperature got up into the high sixties. Last week's cold is as gone and forgotten as the wisp of a dream.

I went to town today.
Boy, did I go to town.
I wanted to get some more bug flannel to make August a dress. And go to Publix.
Period, the end.
But I realized I needed to replace my phone case because my $6.99 case cracked but hey! It lasted all through Mexico and then some so whatever. I went to TJ Maxx because I was close to it when I exited the interstate to get to the side of town I needed to be on and shopped around and saw a dress that I had to get Ms. Magnolia because it was just so dang cute. And I got a phone case. This one cost $7.99.
Big spender.
Trader Joe's was right next to TJ Maxx so I ran in there and got a few fun items like those reusable waxed bowl covers and a giant shiny eggplant. Always good times at Trader Joe's.
By this time I was hungry so bought myself some lunch.
Then on to Joann's where I could not find the bug flannel but they had so many cute prints that I think a little guy would like a dress made out of.

These were two I considered. 

I ended up, though, buying enough of two different prints to make more than one dress because they were just so darling. 

I'll take them both to show August tomorrow when I go in to have my hair trimmed with Jessie who is getting her hair cut too. I'm looking forward to that because we'll get to see Melissa. Whom we adore. 

Which do you think he'll pick? 

After Joann's I had to step next door into Tuesday Morning to look for rugs. I have suddenly decided that I need rugs and that's all there is to it. They had a lot of rugs but none sparked joy in me. 

Haha.

And then finally, on to Publix where I got my real groceries and by the time I got home it was almost four o'clock and I was exhausted but dammit, I wanted to clean up those branches and so I did. 

And found the trillium. 

And picked more camellias. 

Winter's beautiful bounty and coming-spring's first true sign. 

This is a good time of year in North Florida. 

The singing frogs agree. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Lovely Hen And More

See that basket? I probably got it a thrift store because I love baskets. And bowls. And leather bags. I believe it's a womb thing. Anyway, that basket has been sitting there for some time because Dearie, in her struggles to lay eggs in the bag of shallots on the nearby wicker table where it sat, knocked it off and I never put it back on the table. Dearie has been quite upset since I replaced the bag the shallots were in with a paper bag because she can't figure out how to get in it and lay.
Yes, I did make the no-more-chickens-on-the-porch rule because of the poop and I blocked off their entranceway but Dearie quickly figured out how to just come in the cat door being undeterred by the flap in it. She's a smart hen.
So she's been coming on the porch and just rustling about and sitting on a chair and staring at me and so forth and today I heard her making some sort of noise behind me as I sat on the porch and I turned around but couldn't see her. The sound appeared to be coming from the basket though. Whose lid, as you can see, is closed. Was closed.
I walked over, crouched down and slowly lifted the lid.

She was completely unperturbed. I let the lid fall back down and left her to her business. I could see that there was more than one egg in there and after she hopped out of the basket and left the porch I found these. 

Oh, that funny hen! I do love her. I just can't help it. 

I also found two more eggs on the front porch today in the same potted fern I found those half dozen yesterday. Crazy chickens! 

This afternoon, Mr. Moon and I met up at the mounds with Hank and Rachel and Jessie and Vergil and August and Levon. And guess what? August was wearing his dress. 

Here he is, explaining something with many hand and arm movements to his daddy and Rachel. 

And on his bike. 

Here's Levon on his. 

Actually, it's a trike. 

Between all the food that Jessie and Vergil and I packed and the FEAST that Rachel had packed, we dined like royalty. There was chicken salad and hummus and tuna-egg salad and crackers and celery and fig and orange preserves and cheese and pickles and oh, I don't even know. 

A fine picnic, indeed. 

After that the Weatherfords and the Moons came back to the house of Mer and Bop where Vergil and Glen cut a tiny bit of the oak tree that fell in our yard for firewood. Yes, that tree is still there but it is scheduled to be removed early next month. I've gotten quite used to it being there. 

August has told his mother that I need to make him another dress, like Maggie's, and that Levon needs a dress too so I took August's measurements today and we looked at fabric. I think I'm going to go back to Joanne's to see if they have any more of the bug flannel. I don't think I'll make Levon a dress until he asks for one. 

We read some books and Levon and I played peek-a-boo and did some pretend sneezing which makes him laugh. And then the men were done and off the little family drove with a truckload of oak. 

The Super Bowl is on and a neighbor is here to watch it. 

And yes, I have already made (and eaten) Velveeta dip. I didn't eat all of it. Let me make that clear. 

Lord have mercy, that stuff tastes better than anything should be allowed to taste. I would eagerly and happily eat it with a spoon and call it spicy cheese soup. 

Now THERE'S a thought...

All right, dear ones. I'm going to go prepare some manly food. 

It's always about the food, isn't it? 

Sigh...

Love...Ms. Moon

Hey! You Look Familiar To Me!

It has been a most interesting day. I started out by making another NYT's recipe, this one for black bean soup and it is still simmering. I was startled at the claim in the recipe that the beans would be tender in an hour or two. In my experience, black beans take FOREVER to cook and this has proven true for me today. But I've had fun with it, as I do love to cook. I have some focaccia rising and I'm going to bake that with the tomatoes I have roasting and thawed pesto that I made with arugula last summer and mozzarella. It all sounds good to me although it will be hard to beat last night's supper which was pork chops and sweet potatoes and homemade warm applesauce and roasted broccoli.
I'm tearing it up in the kitchen these days.

I had just gotten my soup all assembled and in the crock pot when I heard cars pull up so I went to the door and there was a woman standing there. She was probably in her fifties, very nicely dressed with make-up applied, and she said, "You look familiar to me. Is Bea here?"
Well. She did not look familiar to me and there was no Bea here and I informed her of these things.
Nicely.
I then noticed that two other similarly well-dressed ladies of about the same age with salon coiffed hair and jewelry had gotten out of another vehicle and were walking up to the porch. The lady I'd talked to yelled at them, "I GOT THE WRONG HOUSE!"
I wish I could give you an idea of what their accents sounded like. Perhaps it could be described as Southern Sorority Girl Grown Older.
Then the lady at the door started apologizing so inappropriately profusely that I realized she was drunk! At 11:30 a.m.! And then, when the other ladies started really talking, I could see that they, too, had been enjoying adult beverages. One of them kept going on about Liberace who was strutting his stuff in the kitchen garden. I offered her a rooster and told her I'd throw in a hen if she took one. Turns out she has a house on St. George Island and said that she'd love to keep chickens there.
Repeatedly.
The third lady said, "Farm fresh eggs! We could name them Bonnie and Clyde!"
Ooh boy.
It was finally determined that they were looking for the house where my neighbor had just died. They were there to visit one of the beautiful daughters.
The woman who'd come to the door first apologized some more and by this time, I'd come outside the door and she actually started getting handsy with me. Talk about inappropriate.
And then, because their true destination was so close, they decided that they could leave their cars in my driveway and just walk across the street.
Y'all, this is not appropriate country behavior.
I cleared my throat and said, "Um, you know, I'm not sure I want you to leave you cars in my yard."
"Okay!" they said. And managed to drive across the street with a lot of waving and more apologies.
One of them had a little dog in her car. I felt sort of sorry for it. It appeared to be terminally anxious.

So that was exciting.

I did not go to Gibson's soccer game mainly because he didn't go either. But I told Lily that I'd come and get the kids for the afternoon. Before I left though, I uncovered my porch plants because there is no threat of frost for days, at least, and when I did, I found those eggs pictured above. The  hens were laying UNDER A SHEET!
Good god.
The eggs all passed the float test and so I kept them.

I had a good time with Owen and Maggie. Gibson didn't come because he had a date with the darling Lenore and his other grandmother. Maggie immediately started playing with toys.

She loves to play pretend. Those little animals acted out entire scenarios, many of them having to do with a mother and a baby. The mother sang Rock-A-Bye Baby many times to the child. Sometimes the baby fussed but the mama always knew how to comfort her. She's wearing her new dress. She says she likes it. 

Owen and I played a hot and heavy game of Battle. Guess what? He beat me again. I love playing cards with that kid. 

There were snacks and juice, of course, and Maggie and I read some books on my bed and then we pretended that tigers and giant fish and dragons were coming to get us and we had to hide under the comforter. 

"That was close!" she kept saying. I cuddled her and told her I would keep her safe and it's such a joy to feel her soft skin and make her laugh. 

Boppy and Owen did some BB gun target shooting and I know they had fun too. 

They are so beautiful to me. We had gathered eggs earlier and I cooked Maggie a scrambled egg after she ate her chocolate. She loves scrambled eggs and she helped me cook. 

Then Jason came and off they went. When I kissed Maggie good-bye I gave her my mantra for her again. 

"You are a strong, smart, powerful, beautiful woman!"

"I know," she said. 

"I'm going to keep reminding you," I said. 

And then I whispered to Owen, "You are my little prince."

He's too old for that but I know he still loves it. 

And that was how it went in Lloyd today. I want to make it clear that I am not judging those women who came to my door. I have no idea what's going on in their lives and drinking at eleven o'clock in the morning may be exactly what they need to do. Far be it from me to look down upon anyone for the joy of day-drinking. Except well, they probably should not have been driving. 

Here I go to check the progress of my soup, my rising dough, my roasting tomatoes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Philosophies, Theories, And Cheese Dip So Good That Eating It Once A Year Is Enough

This is what I celebrate instead of the Super Bowl. In fact, the Super Bowl is, in my opinion, the one real excuse to make and eat Ro-Tel/Velveeta cheese dip. I will make it and then take a small bowl of it and hide somewhere in the house and eat it while everyone else is eating the rest of it and watching what I presume is a football game.
I won't really hide. I will eat it with pride and with relish. Not pickle relish. You know, the other kind of relish which means enjoyment.
Glad I straightened that out.

So. Publix encounter #2 of the week. On my way into the store a nice looking older man wearing an Army cap walked in and said "Hello," and I said, "Hello," and he said, "How ya doin'?" and I said, "Fine thank-you, how are you?"
"Better than a kid on Christmas morning!" he said with real enthusiasm.
"Really?" I asked. "What happened?"
"I turned 74 and every day is like Christmas!"
I grabbed my cart and said to him, "That's wonderful! Thank you for sharing that with me!"
And I meant it. His joie de vivre was as evident as his grin and every bit as contagious.
And then he proceeded to tell me that he'd been around the world four times, all due to the Army and joining it was the best thing he'd ever done and he'd lived in Germany for seventeen years with his family and he could speak German and Vietnamese and Norwegian and Russian.
And I believe him. He just charmed me to pieces.
For some reason I said, "Well, I'm not going to ask you what you think about Putin and Trump."
He looked around to make sure no one was listening and said, "Putin ate Trump for lunch and spit him out."
He then went on to tell me a few things about Putin and about Trump and about following orders in the Army (it's easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission) and what he thinks about Trump and his foreign policies, specifically his withdrawal from NATO.
Let me just say, he's not a fan.
He was cool. I could have talked to him all day long. As it was, we blocked the area in front of the avocado display for quite awhile.

I have had a good day generally. I've taken everything slowly and just enjoyed it all, even the cleaning out of the hen house. My neighbor came over to return a book. I've been recommending and giving him books to read from my library and that's been a joy. First I gave him Keith Richard's Life which he loved, and then Tara Westover's Educated which he also loved. "You want another one?" I asked him.
"Yes!" he said.
I sent him home with a copy of Lonesome Dove which he'd never read before. I told him I was jealous of him getting to read it for the first time.
And I am.

I finished up Ms. Maggie's dress.

I hope she likes it. As with almost everything I sew, at least it's soft. I bought a jar of buttons at Wag The Dog a few months ago and in it were about twenty ladybug buttons. Four got used on this dress. Three on the front and one in back to fasten it. 

As I sewed, I listened to three more episodes of Mormon Stories podcast. Yes. I still listen to those. Still have no real idea why but I figure there must be a reason. The episodes I listened to today were interviews with a historian who has studied the authenticity of not only the Book of Mormon but also of the Bible. 

Did you know that there never were men named Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John who wrote the books attributed to them in the New Testament? 

I mean, I suspected as much but he, as a scholar and historian slayed the argument for them. But here's the funny thing- even though he is quite certain that whoever wrote the Book of Mormon was someone with a Bible living in the early 1800's, he is still a believer! Not in Mormonism, per se, but in an offshoot of that church called Community of Christ. 

Just goes to show. 

But he talked a lot about the First People (as he calls them) who lived here before white guys got here and how amazing and advanced their cultures were and how many people lived on this continent before they got wiped out by disease and violence. I'm not going to go into the whole thing but he gave me some new knowledge and perspectives about how even I view Native American culture and their place here before the whites came over. He spoke of the mound builders and that was a timely coincidence. 

I am fascinated by religion. Let's just face it. If I had it all to do over again I might have become an anthropologist with my main focus on religions. Or maybe an evolutionary theorist like the guy I heard on another podcast two days ago, Bret Weinstein. He was on Dax Shephard's podcast, "Armchair Expert" and he gave me enough to think about for the rest of my life. I, too, have always loved to try and figure out behavior via an evolutionary standpoint and he not only verified some of my own theories, he offered more. He talked about everything from sex (which is probably the most frequently discussed topic on Armchair Expert) to religion. His take on the subject is that religions, although verifiably untrue, must carry something which is quite valuable to humans because it has been such a persistent and strong force in human society throughout history. 

I have been pondering this ever since, as you might imagine. I can think of a lot of reasons people get into religions (and I'm including all religions here from Catholicism to cults to Hinduism). To have a community, of course. There's something so very human in the need to be able to identify and gather with like-minded people. And then there's always the fact that religion has traditionally given us answers to the Big Questions like Where do I go when I die? and What is my purpose here on Earth?" Plus, it's a great way to control people. And gain power. And money. And sex.

But I digress. 

In yet another podcast I listened to recently, John Delihn, the founder and host of the Mormon Stories podcast, playing the devil's advocate, asked a different historical scholar who no longer believes in any god how life can make sense without God in it. 

"It all makes sense until you put God in it," the scholar historian said. 

Which made all the sense in the world to me and Delihn, who has been excommunicated from the Mormon church, chuckled. 

Okay, okay. Enough of that. 

It's Friday night. The church is banging tonight. It's gently and softly drizzling. If it's not raining tomorrow I think I'll go to Gibson's soccer game which is at the reasonable hour of 11:00. And then maybe I'll bring those grands over here for some Mer playtime. I miss my big boys and my little girl. Meanwhile, I'm content and glad to be exactly where I am with my husband in this sweet old house that wraps its arms around my life and opens to receive the ones I love anytime I ask. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon