Meds, Mullet, Mormons, Martinis, And Jack

Well, I think I figured out why I felt so funky yesterday and even more so today and you have heard this story before- I forgot to take my meds yesterday. Pretty sure that was it. It's scary how much they affect me or at least the lack of them affect me. But I took them this morning and am hoping that I'll be back tomorrow, bright as a new penny. 

It's been raining most of the day and I have done very little and yet it's been a beautiful day for me. Mr. Moon and I have spent time together, being sweet. Well, even sweeter than usual which is pretty sweet. We even went down to the site of the former truck stop where every weekend an older couple (i.e., our age or younger) sets up their food truck right behind the giant Johnny Appleseed. I have eaten a lunch from them once before but it was a long time ago when they were just under a little canvas awning. Now they've got it fancied up and really going. 

Conch City Catering. 
The lady who took our order was darling and had a gold tooth that made me want one so bad. You may think I am kidding but I am not. Mr. Moon asked her if the mullet was fresh and she assured him it was- her husband caught it. Her husband also cooked it. I ordered a shrimp dinner and it was fine but nothing as fine as that mullet was which my husband shared with me. Would you look at this fish?

 That, my friends, is what we like about the south. Fried mullet and fried okra. And underneath that mullet is a piece of white bread which is the absolute traditional way of serving it. 
Pass the hot sauce and shut up. 

The fisherman/chef talked to Mr. Moon for at least ten minutes about how and where he caught that mullet. And the problems he'd had at the boat ramp. And then they talked about bait. And then they talked about catching stripers. And then they talked about catching sheepshead and how to cook them. 
Ooh boy. The only thing fishermen love to do more than fish is to talk about fishing. And I was all La-Di-Dah'ing over there, thinking, Uh, can we go home and eat this fish now?

Which we eventually did. 

Besides that delightful adventure (no hyperbole there, people- seriously) I've had a little nap, done some laundry, and investigated a major crisis brewing at the Open Stories Foundation which is where my not-so-secret-addiction of Mormon Stories podcasts comes from. I cannot and will not even try to figure out, much less explain why I love listening to those podcasts but it's been years now and I still listen to almost every one of them and some of them are over three hours long. The crisis arose when one of the employees who had been hired as an office manager type person and who had slid into co-hosting occasionally, lost her job. Now I do not know how her office managing skills were, but as a co-host she was a mess. Mostly she just cried. And hell yes! Many of the stories that the interviewees tell are heartbreaking and just plain hard and I can understand becoming emotional but Lord, this woman just wept and wept and wept. 
I kept wondering how long John, the host, would be able to put up with that and how in the world he was going to get out of it. He's such a kind man but I guess she finally provoked him in a way that caused him to get angry and now she's claiming all kinds of shit although none of it is anything more than, "He made me feel unsafe." "He wasn't being empathetic enough about my needs as a mother." Blah, blah, blah.
So she's suing him and the Open Stories Foundation and they're counter-suing her. Another former-Mormon podcaster (yes, I listen to two podcasts about Mormonism) is an attorney and he read the entire transcript of the counter suit on his show and that took awhile to listen to. And today I watched, on Youtube, a meeting with the woman, John, and two members of the board of the Open Stories Foundation that had occurred before the woman lost her job and before she brought a case against them. 
And guess what? She cried and cried and cried. 
Oh, how she cried. 
Look- I cry at the drop of a hat but I'm not a freaking co-host. We're talking Tammy Faye level of crying. 
So that took quite a bit of time. 

Aren't you glad you know all of this? 

Well, to me it's fascinating. 

And I guess that's all I have to talk about. I'm going to make pizzas tonight. I used some of the sourdough starter discard a few days ago to start a dough and we'll see how that goes. 

Just about time to make martinis. And I'm late on the laundry so our clean sheets are still in the dryer. But who cares? It's Friday.

Because I love you I will give you this picture of Jack.  

He's such a weirdo. 
So am I. 

So am I.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Day, Another Waller

 

I have just been incredibly low energy today. I did not have my usual MerMer buoyancy, couldn't make my usual inane snappy patter with the boys, didn't crack jokes and sing them songs. 
Ah well. We all have those days. Maybe it's the weather change that's about to happen. Rain is coming and I can feel it in every place in my body that has ever been injured. Maybe I did too much yesterday, both physically and emotionally. 
Maybe I'm just old. 

Once again I did not eat lunch before I picked up Levon and we ended up at the sorta-Tex-Mex place again and please remind me that I really don't like the food there. And then I took him next door to the Goodwill book store and although he really wanted a toy and not a book, we compromised on a book for August and two puzzles. One with a hundred pieces which was superhero thing and one a Melissa and Doug floor puzzle of dinosaurs. Levon and I did the superhero one before we picked up August and it turned out that it was actually a 99 piece puzzle but that was okay. The boys did the dinosaur puzzle together before I left. 

I brought them snack bags with vanilla wafers and six M&M's apiece in them and they were thrilled with that. 

So I did do my grandmotherly duties and I read them the book we got at Goodwill which was a magic school bus book and I hate those books. I mean- yes, it's cool that the kids like them and learn things from them but they're sort of freaky if you ask me and poor Arnold, or whoever that kid is who is always missing the bus just makes me so sad. BUT, the boys like them and they want me to read every word of print on the pages and there are a LOT. 

The book we read today was about how the body works and although the magically-made-microscopic bus with the school children in it got ingested through the mouth of Arnold which I thought would inevitably lead to the bus being pooped out, I was disappointed to discover that no, it was sneezed out via Arnold's nose. 
As August would say, "Oh, come ON!"
Ms. Frizzle does wear some nice dresses though. 

So I tried and now I'm home, hoping to be made magically more energetic tomorrow through a night of sleep. 

I talk about sleep a lot. 
Well, write about what you know. I know food and I know sleep. 

And that is mostly it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Castles In The Air, Houses On The River

Well, holy shit. It's been a day. 

First thing that happened was that I got an e-mail from our friend/landlord down in Roseland (he and his husband own the property where we love to stay) with a link to a piece of property right down the street from them which just happens to be the property that my grandfather owned. The very one my mother sold in 1978 even though I told her more than once not to sell it without letting me have a chance to buy it. (Bitter, much?) The people who bought it built a house on it that I've always cursed, considering it to be ugly but mostly considering it to be on MY rightful property on MY river. Even though I know it isn't. This is not how things work. 

Anyway, there it was. For sale. With the house. That is the lot that I can remember my granddaddy working on, wearing no shirt, a pair of khakis, and a pith helmet with a giant handkerchief in his pocket to wipe the sweat from his face as he planted one thing or another or trimmed a palm or cut the grass. 

The price on this house and lot are absolutely not exorbitant for that location. Sort of startlingly so. Not saying it's cheap but we've looked at shacks on tiny lots across the street from the river for more than a quarter of the price. And this is on the river. My first thought was, "Okay, Mary. This is why you haven't found property in Roseland. This was waiting for you and here it is."
But although I do dally with the woo-woo thoughts now and then I don't really believe in them. That whole, "If it's meant to be it'll happen," crappola. I mean, yeah. If something happens it happens but it could just as easily not happen. 

Mr. Moon was at the gym so I couldn't show the link to him then. By the time I did, a few hours later, I'd shared it with a friend and with the kids. The kids figured out where we could build a screened sleeping porch for the young'uns. Like- yeah. Obviously. We need to do this. 
So I showed it to Glen and he said, "What do you think?" and I said, "I don't know what to think."

Now Roseland is my dreamplace, not his. But he has grown very fond of that river and the way you can put a boat in there and get to the inlet in short order where the fishing is good. And it is just a beautiful area. So after we talked to our friend/landlord who told us that he thought the house probably needed a lot of work but looked to have good bones, we called the realtor. 
Guess what? 
They'd already received a deposit on it. It had been listed for 23 hours. 
Well, fuck. 
I cried a little but then our friend encouraged us to go ahead and make a back-up offer anyway, telling us that he's done just that on many properties that supposedly had iron-clad deals that had not gone through and ended up purchasing the property. 
So we have. 
According to the realtor, the person whose offer has already been accepted is a very close friend of the family's who did not know it was for sale until it had been listed. 
Harumph. 
Did HIS grandfather own the property in the 1950's? No. He did not. Mine did. 

I'm just being silly. Of course I want it from my toes to my head hair but I can't get that attached to the idea. That way lies madness. 

I took another good walk. I am proud of myself for it. I covered some ground. Not very fast, although I did end it strong. There were inmates working near No Man Lord's, picking up trash, and I passed them on my way to the county line, on my way back from the county line, and then again when they had reached my property and I was finishing up my extra Lloyd loop. By then I felt as if we were well-acquainted. I said, "And here we are again!" 
One of the guys said, "You're getting your exercise in today."
"So are you," I said, and opened up my gate. 

At least it was a cool-ish morning, a beautiful day, and I can only imagine that being outside picking up trash on Old Lloyd Road was not the most unpleasant thing they could be doing. 

We watched the State of the Union Address last night. I was just going to watch "a little bit" but we ended up watching it all. I have to say that Joe Biden is the consummate politician and I also have to say that I think he's a remarkable man who truly does care about the people of the United States. He hit all the high points. Infrastructure, jobs, American resiliency, drug prices, racism, police brutality, protecting the dignity and safety of trans people, especially kids, helping the care-givers of the disabled, ensuring the right of same-sex people to marry, women's reproductive choice, gun violence, the opioid crisis, the best way to handle immigration, education- and these are just the things I can remember. There were some extremely rude Republicans (Marjorie Taylor Greene) who yelled things including "bullshit!" (keep it classy, Repubs!) but Biden, quicker than I could, turned the hecklers right around and used their words to his advantage as if it had all been scripted. It was rather beautiful. 
His words do get tangled because of his stutter but he spoke for an hour and fifteen minutes and if he was using a teleprompter, he is damn good at that. 
As I told a friend today, in a way he reminds me of the Rolling Stones. They have perfected what they do but they are still quite capable of improvisation. He's about the same age as they are too. So they're going on tour and I'll bet you anything he's going to run for president again. Let's hear it for the old pros. 

Mr. Moon and I went out to the garden together this afternoon to determine where the peas and potatoes should go and I spent some time weeding those areas. Glen and Tom just left to go to a basketball game and it is very quiet here. I am tired and bed will feel good as it always does. Last night Maurice slept next to me all night long and did not once attack me, and Jack did not claim any space on the bed. That was odd. It almost feels as if they are vying for my love recently. I just took this picture of Jack.

He had his not insignificantly-sized butt ON MY ARM as I typed. I finally had to ask him to leave. He is a heavy boy. 

Here's a picture of my Trump-voting neighbors' Japanese magnolia. 

It is a hot-pink glory. 

As I have said, they have finally, after years, removed the Trump signs but do have a DeSantis sign in the yard. "DeSantis, Keeping Florida Free!"

I could list all of the things that DeSantis is keeping Florida free from but just see above for all the things Biden is fighting for and that would pretty much sum it up. 

Tomorrow is Levon and August day. I'll talk to you when I get home. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just Don't Read This If You Need Cheering Up

Poor August has been sick again, this time with fever and a cough. Jessie took him to the doctor on Friday and he didn't have covid and he didn't have the flu so it's probably viral. He's getting his adenoids out in a few weeks and we're hoping that's going to help. Have any of you had experience with that situation? 

So he was home with his mother today who was so very tired. She worked yesterday and the hospital where she works, which is Tallahassee's main hospital, has had some sort of computer information cyber attack and they're not really talking about it but the FBI is involved and it may be a ransom ware issue and things are a complete mess. EVERYTHING in the hospital involves computer technology. They are having to do manage it all on paper and with phone calls and faxing. I asked Jessie if they even still had charting forms for them to use and she said they did but they are so outdated and have been copied over and redacted and it's all just a shit show. That everyone is walking around asking everyone else how to do things and saying, "This is just a complete shit show." 
They're not even accepting any but the most serious of trauma cases and only doing absolutely unavoidable surgeries. BUT- babies will be born and that's the area Jessie works in so they are just having to work-around and figure it out. 
So yes, she was tired today. 

I suggested we meet up at the park by the library and have a picnic and she liked that idea and so did August who is in good spirits despite his whatever-he-has. The hoop-a-coodus as my mother used to say when one of us was displaying symptoms like August has. Jessie went through the drive-in at the Pitaria, our favorite Mediterranean place and we sat in the sunshine and ate our hummus and pita and falafel and dolmades. So, so good. August was funny and jokey. At one point he said, "I wish Levon was here." 
Which was pretty darn sweet. 
He'd brought a book and after we ate I read a little of it to him. It was mostly a wonders-of-nature thing and included dinosaurs and the creatures who live in forests and deserts and in the ocean. He leaned up against me on the bench we were sitting on and both his mother and I tousled his hair and stroked his head. I swear- that boy is changing so fast. Every time I see him he looks different to me. I mean, always like August, but a different August. 
I know, I know, I KNOW! This is the way of it but damn. 
Remember when he looked like this?

That was five years ago. He was such a little monkey boy. 

Well, sigh. 

When Jessie and August left to go get Levon, I went in the library and returned two books and got some more. I just finished one last night that I have truly, truly enjoyed. It's called "The Whalebone Theater: A Novel" by Joanna Quinn. 

Holy smokes! What a ride! It floats from a sort of magical realism situation to WW II and all in-between. There are three children, growing up rather feral, and the book takes them from their beginnings growing up in a house on the sea in England to their lives as young adults, working in various capacities in that war which affected so many people so profoundly in ways that we cannot even comprehend.

Beautifully written, dreamlike in some places, starkly realistic in others. I do recommend it. I hated to finish it. 

After the library I went to a nursery to buy peas, potatoes, and onions to plant. While I was there, I heard someone on the intercom saying, "I have a customer who is asking for Mexican grass. Do we have any?"

I could not help but laugh. 
And when I went to check out, I told the guy behind the counter that I, too, would like to know if they have Mexican grass. He was about to get on his intercom device and I rushed to stop him and said, "Whoa! Wait! It's a joke!"
I don't think he got it. 

And then I went to Publix. But not MY Publix. Or any of the other two Publixes that I am used to. This Publix is a larger Publix and it is arranged completely differently than the others one. I mean- the bananas were on the wrong side of the aisle! I might as well have been shopping in France. However, they did have the Quaker oat bran that I haven't been able to find lately and I bought two boxes of that to make muffins with and add to my bread. 

And thus- my exciting day. I'm feeling a bit flat. I need to take another good walk tomorrow and I probably will. I have four new books to read from the library and there's got to be at least one good in there. I also finished listening to the Billy Porter memoir today and I will not soon be forgetting that. What a beautiful, strong, complicated, dedicated human being he is. He is so firm in his commitments to equality for Black people, for differently-gendered people, to his art, to his husband, to his right to feel joy. 
And boy, does he hate Orangina, as he calls Trump. Not only that but he calls out people who support him who have gay sons and daughters, who claim to be champions of art and the people who make it. 

And as you can only imagine, he writes and narrates with style and FLAMBOYANCE! He cherishes his flamboyance, being told for years and years that he was too much of that for one part after another. And occasionally in the book, he bursts into song which brought me joy. 

But tonight I am mourning the seven thousand people (at least) who have died in the earthquake in Turkey. I am shuddering at the thought of what the incident with the Chinese spy balloon may lead to. I may or may not watch the State of the Union address. Can even dear old Uncle Joe bring us reassurance? Bring us any sort of comfort? 

I just read that one of the officers who has been charged with the death of Tyre Nichols took pictures with his personal cell phone of that innocent man, propped up on a police car minutes after the beating and sent the pictures to friends. 

I sometimes (too often) feel like we humans are not going to make it. And you know what? I'm not sure we deserve to. 

I think the only thing I can do right now is to be as kind and as loving and as helpful to those around me as I can be. What the fuck else can we do? 

This Is Where I Live

I took a pretty good walk today and did a different route. I walked south on Highway 98 which is a fairly heavily traveled road as it is the link between Highway 27 and Highway 90, with an entrance and exit to I-10 in there too. Lots of big trucks so I don't really enjoy walking on that road but I wanted to walk down a little dirt road that is an oasis of shade and peace and to get there, I have to walk on the highway. There's a good wide shoulder on both sides so it's not too dangerous. Also, the highway crosses over Lloyd Creek and I love to look at that. I often see turtles sunning themselves on a log and today was no exception there. I did not, however, see an alligator. 
Dang it. 

Here's the little dirt road.

There are palmettos and magnolias, pines and oaks on either side and I hardly ever see a vehicle on it but today a truck pulled out of what I now know is a future driveway because the truck stopped and I had a little chat with the man driving it and an even better chat with the two boys in the backseat, aged 3 and 5. 
"That's our driveway!" one of the boys said. 
"Do you live there?"
"Not yet! We're building a house!"
"That's the plan, anyway," said the daddy. 
The boys proceeded to tell me about their baby. He is seven months old and he can walk! 
"He can walk?" I asked. 
"Yes! He can walk everywhere!" said the five-year old. 
Their poor mother, I thought. But what I said was, "He must be a genius!" 
The boys agreed that he was and I asked them if they loved their baby brother and they assured me they did. 
"Well, you guys take care of him!" I said, and they drove on their way. 

Here's what the railroad tracks that border our property look like. 

See all that bamboo? Yeah. That's from our yard. 

The post office is just a lot away from the crossing. 

And a closer view.

The old train station, built when Lloyd was bustling enough to have one. There was a hotel that served fried chicken dinners and people would get off the train just to eat. Now, though, it is where we get our mail. 

There's another wall with more boxes but my box is in that area. If there is something that's too big to go into the box, the post-person leaves me a slip in the box and I hand it to her and she goes and fetches whatever it is for me. The clerk is only there until noon. 

I have lived in Lloyd in this house now for nineteen years and I am still charmed by so much of what is around me. Especially this time of year when everything is filled with a sort of spring-coming promise. 

The mulberries are coming along. Last week the branches held barely visible leaf buds and now leaves are opening and fruit is forming. Last year we didn't even get enough of the berries to put into a bowl of pancake batter, much less a pie. I have high hopes for this year. 

I worked in the garden this afternoon, weeding and getting ready for the next planting. I need to go buy my peas and seed potatoes and onion sets. 

So that's what Lloyd looked like today from one perspective, at least. The daddy in the truck with the darling boys asked me where I lived and I told him (making air quotation marks) that I live in Down Town Lloyd. He knew exactly what I was talking about. 

This reminded me of a time when we had a visitor who, when sitting on our front porch asked me, "So, where is Lloyd, actually?"

"You're looking at it," I said. And she was. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Beauty Comes In So Many Forms

 Just in case y'all were wondering- purple cows were enjoyed last night. For those of you who are not familiar with these unique-to-us treats, I sort of stole the idea of what is sometimes referred to as "Methodist Punch" and turned it into a spend-the-night delight for the grandkids. Methodist Punch is sherbet (any flavor), grape juice, and ginger ale. Actually, any sort of fruit juice can be used. I used to love that stuff when I was a kid. Boppy has improved the recipe by adding M&M's. He always makes the purple cows and always offers me one. Somehow, I never want one. Perhaps I need that whole punch bowl situation with a big ol' chunk of sherbet floating in it to really enjoy it. 
But it is a real and true tradition here now. 

Gibson is such a sweet guest. He never fusses and he is never loud or rowdy. We don't really do much. Play some cards, eat our meals, and he does love the Oculus. TV is involved. I think mostly the boy just likes being the only child for awhile, getting all the love and attention. He is in every way a middle child. He is not the first born or the baby and also, Maggie is SUCH a girl. Lily tries so hard not to let him get lost in the shuffle and she does very well but let's face it- we all need a break from our families of birth at some time or another. This morning we had our pancakes and then he and I played some Go Fish. 
He beat the hell out of me at that too. 
Sheesh. 
But he's a gracious winner. 

When Jason came to get him, Owen and Maggie were with him and I almost wept when Owen got out of the truck. That kid is growing way too fast. He's passed me in height, of course, and is closing in on his dad. Gibson will be taller than me too, soon. And he's only in the fifth grade. Maggie's got some height on her too. When she came in the house today I showed her my new dolls. Betty May Tiger Jumper and her baby, Scarlet, and Rosa Violet. 
She especially liked Rosa Violet. 
"She looks like a baby!" she said. And then she said, "She is a baby." 

After they all left I made a pineapple upside down cake and a smaller blackberry/pineapple upside down cake. 

I made the big one for a friend of Mr. Moon's who is getting pretty old and does not have many pleasures in life but he can still eat, a little bit at a time. Mr. Moon recently got in touch with him and they made a plan to get together and Glen kindly asked me if I would make Randy a pineapple upside down cake because he has always liked the ones I make. Of course I said yes! I like Randy. He used to call me "Hippie Girl" which pleased me greatly. And I had some fresh blackberries and it had occurred to me that they might make a fine upside down cake with some pineapple and we shall see if that is true tonight. 

I am listening to a memoir right now of Billy Porter's. 

He narrates it and I am barely able to take my earbuds out. The first time I ever took note of Mr. Porter was when he wore a black velvet tuxedo gown designed by Christian Siriano at the 2019 Oscar Awards Ceremony. 

I am not sure why but his appearance in this gown absolutely blew my mind, stole my heart, and made me a little prouder to be a human being. I am ashamed that I had no idea who he was but I am not a follower of Broadway musicals and somehow, his huge and amazing talent and presence had just slipped under my very limited radar. 

I am so glad to be listening to his book and of course he narrates it. What a life! And the obstacles he has faced are innumerable. The son of a mother who was born with neurological damage from a botched delivery, he was as gay as a picnic from the moment he was born which is not a safe thing to be for a Black child in Pittsburg in the sixties and seventies. His mother's church gave him a place to realize he could sing but it was also the place that told him that being a homosexual was the fastest ticket to hell. From his first day in first grade, he was bullied and beaten for being a sissy. His mother adored him but she had no real tools to help him deal with the life she had born him into. 
She remarried when Billy was about six or seven and at first Billy was thrilled- a man in the house to teach him how to be a man! 
And then his stepfather began to visit Billy in his childhood bed in the basement bedroom that he'd built for Billy, and thus began five years of regular and relentless molestation. 

This story is way too familiar for many of us but Billy had a gift. He could sing. He could truly, really sing. And after being taken to see a performance "The Wiz" by his aunt, he knew what he was supposed to be doing and he spent the next years of his life going way above and beyond what I can begin to imagine to cut his path through the bigotry, poverty, abuse, religious shaming, public school system, and so many other obstacles to achieve what he somehow believed was a dream he deserved to have come true. 

Phew. 

I'm not even halfway through it but I am in awe. 

So that's a lot of what I'm thinking about today. 

It's funny- the Mormon Stories podcast that I love often talks about how people can thrive after leaving a "high demand religion" and Billy talks a lot about not only surviving but thriving, even as he is truthful and honest about the way the abuse he suffered as a child affects him so deeply to this day, no matter how much success he has or how many accolades he receives. 

There is a whole lot of shit that can happen when we are children that can fuck us up. Those who survive are a sort of miracle and those who thrive are- well way beyond miracles. They are the strongest people on this earth. 
I do believe that. 

Japanese Magnolias blooming in my back yard. Once again- I do not really get enough sun for them to flourish but they persevere, they grow, they are beautiful. 

Not only does Billy Porter sing, he also dances and acts. He played a character on the FX series POSE called "Pray Tell" which may be my favorite character name in all of history. 

I have watched some of it. I am going to go back and finish watching it. 

He is a thing of beauty, planted in the wrong place and yet determined to bloom. 
And he has. He does. He will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday Night In Lloyd

 

Lily sent the group that picture last night along with some others of Princess Magnolia June Woman Baby. She was going to a princess ball at her school with her dad. I'm not sure the school sponsored it but anyway, it was held in the cafetorium where the princesses and their escorts dined and danced. 

Here's a picture of her with Jason, her handsome daddy. 

Here she looks to me far more like a queen than a princess. Queen Magnolia, ready to address her people. Obviously, she is a staunch defender of all in her rainbow dress and crown. She is magnificent. She is royal! 

It was quite possible that today was the most beautiful day of the year. Or possibly in history. 
The air was sweet. I'm sure I overuse that word but that's the only adjective that I can think of that would describe the gentleness of the way the air felt. Again, cloudless and cool and still feeling clean from the rain two days ago. I weeded a little bit in the garden before Gibson got here. If tomorrow is anything like today was, I hope to spend a lot more time outside. Hank sent around a picture that tugged at all our heartstrings. 

That picture is of an oyster bar that I am sure many, many local people grieve the passing of. It was open for a long time but finally, one last hurricane took it out. It was absolutely THE place to go on a weekend day like this one- cool and clear and always a month with an "R" in it which used to be the only months you could get oysters. September through April, every kind of people flocked there to drink beer, eat oysters either raw or steamed, boiled shrimp or smoked mullet. That was the entire menu until a later incarnation of it when other foods were served. 
There was a jukebox, the floors were so uneven they made you feel drunk before you'd had your second beer. The building jutted out over the water of the St. Mark's river and there was a deck out back. May's first solid food was a bite of smoked mullet there she snatched from me when it was on its way to my mouth. My first husband I used to take Hank and May there frequently and they would eat saltines with cocktail sauce on them until they got old enough to really enjoy the mullet. 
You never knew who you'd see at Posey's. FSU professors and students, lawyers, sheet-rock hangers, carpenters, fisherpeople, hippies, musicians, drug dealers, politicians. The changers of the oil and the tillers of the soil, as my friend Leonard used to say. And all the rest of us too. 

Well. Posey's is no more and the Apalachicola Bay, where once some of the finest oysters on earth were raked, is now off-limits to oystering and that's a whole other story. 
God. We miss the oysters and we miss Posey's and I feel so fortunate that we were able to experience those things while they were here. 

There's a very fine article about the oyster situation in Apalachicola HERE with some gorgeous pictures if you'd like to see it. 

Our boy Gibson is with us tonight. He and I played Battle which he won in  record time. He's played with the Oculus. I've made the sauce and the meatballs for tonight's supper and should get in the kitchen and make the salad, cook the pasta. I think he's glad to be here. He keeps giving me hugs and he gives the best hugs. I wonder if he'll let me read "The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza" tonight. If he does, it'll be out of sheer kindness. He can read as well as I can now. 

Sigh. 

All righty. Y'all enjoy your Saturday night and we will too, here in Lloyd. 

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Right Here

Here's a live oak that I passed on my walk today. Unlike most of the live oaks in Lloyd, it has nothing at all growing around it so you can see the true majesty of it. The lot it grows on belongs to a nearby Methodist church. It is a huge church and there's a darling little old house on the lot right beside that van that someone left to the Methodists in their will. It is the lot that the Methodists cleared to utter tidiness, ripping out a beautiful native azalea. You know I will never forgive them for that. Plant-a-cide is a sin I will not tolerate. 
The house beyond the tree is also a nice old place. The sweetest elderly bulldog used to live there and lie in the sun on the walkway in front of it and I would stop and pet her and tell her that she was the prettiest dog in Lloyd, and as bulldogs do, she would wiggle all over from tail to ears, grinning her bulldog smile. 
I miss her. 
I miss that azalea too. 

When I finally hauled myself out of my warm bed this morning it was chilly, gray as slate, and drizzling. "Well, no walk today," I thought, and I will admit that the thought did not bring me disappointment. Then a little later Jessie texted that she was going to take a walk and I felt guilty because I wasn't even though the rain had stopped and within ten minutes, the sky was entirely blue and the sun was shining as if to make up for lost time. 
Well. Damn. 
I put on my walking clothes and I knew that it would be the best thing for me to get out into that sun and it was. I kept finding myself looking up which reminded me of Ross and that gave me even another reason to be glad I was outside. 

This is an arrangement of vines that I found to be so interesting. They were in another live oak that I passed. 

And here's some resurrection fern on a branch.

I love the way the sun is glorifying part of it. That branch is as big as most trees. I wonder how many hundreds of years old these trees are. I'm pretty darn sure that when they began life as acorns, there were no Europeans on the continent. 

The camellias are truly back. I picked some today. I know I post too many camellia pictures but really- can there BE too many camellia pictures?

Tonight's bed covering variation may include the real duck. At least on my side of the bed. It's going to get even chillier than it was last night. My husband is home from a visit to his local mechanic to try and address an air bag problem on the Camaro and I think I will go and remind him that it is time to make his wife a martini. I can hear the children next door at the church where they are doing their Friday night gathering. It is comforting to hear them. The birds are making their going-to-bed noises and I have made sauce for tonight's enchiladas and the house smells wonderful. 

It's been a sweet day in Lloyd. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wonders Of Nature, Pleasures Of Life

The tea olive with its miniature flowers and hugely enchanting scent is blooming again. This is one of my very favorite plants in the yard. 

Here's another that has also come to life. 

The trillium! 

The spot where this grows is off to the side of the front yard and I seem to have a mental reminder of when it is time to go check and see if it's come up again. I did that this morning and there it was, doing its spring thing and it made my heart happy. I'm so glad I remembered to look. 

I picked up Levon today and the first thing he wanted to know if we could go buy a toy and if I'd brought treats. 
Ooh boy. We have a real ritual going on here now. 

I had brought treats- more of the Nutella with dipping pretzels but I did need to go to Publix and I had not eaten my lunch and I was getting to that place where I wasn't thinking that well, probably because of that. So off we went to Publix where I was talked into buying sunglasses for the boys and also some rather nasty (in my opinion) breakfast bars but they made him happy. Then we went by my pharmacist to pick up a prescription and the sweet southern lady there offered Levon a lollipop and not one of the tiny ones either but a big fat gourmet one and he also got to pick out one for his brother. So it was a big treat day. 

We went back to the house and I ate the not even marginally healthy salad I'd bought at Publix but at least it had some fiber in it. And then we read some books. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that I still have Levon who likes to listen to books. It is truly one of the greatest pleasures of my life to read to a child. Today we read some of his favorites. One of them, Murmel, Murmel, Murmel, by Robert Munsch, is about a little five-year old girl who finds a baby in her backyard. The little girl says that she cannot take care of a baby but that she will find someone who will. 
"I would keep that baby," said Levon. And we talked about that. He said that they have some pull-up diapers at their house so that would be okay. Oh, how I love that boy! He truly meant it. He would keep any baby that he found. And he would love it. 

Before we went to get August, we went to May and Michael's house to drop off the clothes and the very late Christmas present. May was at work but Michael came down to meet us and lug the bin upstairs. It was good to see him and have a little chat. Levon was about to fall asleep in the car and I think he may have had a tiny doze while we talked. 
And then we were off to get Brother who gave me a wonderful hug and then immediately said, "What treats did you bring us today?"

Ooh-boy. 
On top of all of the goodies and the sunglasses, I had brought over some costume mustaches that had been in Linda Sue's box. There was picture posing. 

Somehow I see Vergil in that mustachioed gent on the left. 

Also, here's a selfie that Levon took of himself earlier. 

What a kid. 

When I left they gave me more hugs and kisses and thank-you's and also requested chicken and dumplings and pancakes next time they come over. I have just spoken to Gibson on the phone who wants spaghetti and meat balls on Saturday night when he comes over. I was almost certain that was what he would ask for and I will be most happy to make them. 

And now I need to go make supper for the man and me. But before I go, I'd like to show you a picture that anyone contemplating moving to Florida should see before they sell their house in Ohio and rent a U-Haul. 

That is a very dead and very large beetle whose name I do not know and do not have time to look up at this moment. I found it under the loveseat in the library when I was searching for Three Billy Goats Gruff which has simply disappeared. 

To a true Floridian, this creature is neither frightening nor disgusting. Now- a roach that big? 
No thank you. 
But somehow I just can't help but admire this guy's size and shine. 

Oh! One more, one more thing. 

Do you see what's happening here? Maurice, for some unknown reason decided to assert her seniority by coming to bed with me and then, just as I was about to turn out the light, Jack showed up and perched on the end of the bed. I was afraid to move, as was Mr. Moon when he got in the bed. All was well (no it wasn't) until right after we'd fallen asleep when all hell broke loose and there was cat-screaming and yowling and a feline tangle that fell off the bed and continued into another part of the house. 

Mr. Moon did indeed receive a bloody wound but I escaped unscathed. This will not be happening again. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Well. At Least I Have Tried Today

This house that I passed on my walk today is an apt visual metaphor for how I've been feeling lately. And by the way- although it IS a fally-down house, it is not THE fally-down house. In fact, it is mostly a fally-apart house because it is newer than the fally-down house and things are just falling off of it. Like, the walls. 

I did take a walk today. I had to. I mean- it's been weeks. The truth is, I still don't feel well. My skin is still sensitive and my hips ache and I just don't have much energy. But I did my two miles without passing out or anything. I will say I was glad when I got home. 

And then, because I did not want to feel like the most worthless piece of crap on the planet, I decided to go through my closet and do a real clean-out. Which I did. I had three piles. One to go to May, one to go to Goodwill, and one to go to the trash. May's pile got so large that I ended up putting everything in one of those big plastic containers like a Rubbermaid bin although it was made by someone else. The Goodwill pile filled up a tall kitchen-sized plastic bag, as did the trash pile. I got rid of almost all of the things that do not fit me and which will never fit me again unless I get a terminal, wasting disease at which point I will probably only wear nightgowns. I did not get rid of all of them. I admit that. There are a few things I just cannot bear to let go. But I have a feeling that even those will be coming up on the big wheel at some point in the near future. I loaded the bin in my car along with the Goodwill bag and the trash bag. I have already taken that one to the dump.

So. That feels good even if I do not. 

I would like to say that my closet and dresser drawers are now a model of serene and uncluttered neatness but they aren't. My closet still has two different forms of down comforters in it as well as two cotton blankets and a quilt. Every night I have had to try and determine what we need to sleep under for our utmost comfort. It's been so damn warm the past few days that I only need what I call "the duckling" which is so old that I don't have the foggiest notion of where I got it and what down there ever was in it is now packed into tiny corners so that most of the warmth comes from the cover fabric itself. Mr. Moon would never sleep under any of the ducks because he sleeps hot. So he requires, on his half of the bed, a variety of what we refer to as "blankies" and access to a cotton woven blanket. 
It is a process every night, readying the bed for our sleep preferences. 

Therefore, the closet still has a lot in it and not just the comforters, blankets, and quilts. Shawls, shoes, a pair of boots, suitcases, and of course the clothes I do still wear. 

Well. You know. 

I will take May's things to her tomorrow AND drop off the Goodwill bag if all goes as planned. It will be my Levon and August day. Both boys are back in school and Jessie is not unhappy about that. I will be glad to see those boys. 

I unleashed Ralph again today to finish up after his traumatic incident yesterday. He has definitely taught himself how to get into the kitchen and Mr. Moon and I are so proud of him. We watched him dock himself into his charger/bin sucker-upper this afternoon, arms around each other as if we were watching one of our children at a musical recital.
My husband said, "Good job, son."

Mr. Moon has cleaned the fish he caught yesterday and I about to go cook them. I already have a pot of greens on the stove simmering away. I already have cornbread from a few nights ago and I'll heat that up. I might make a tomato and cucumber salad. And Lord, will it feel good to get in bed tonight. 

There's the little catbird (I think) that is still trying to get into my bathroom. That was happening late this afternoon and there was definitely no reflection that he could see in the window. I have no idea what he's thinking as he bashes his body over and over into the glass but perhaps that is another metaphor of my life- endlessly attempting to change the outcome of something I have no reason to believe I can successfully do, despite a million unsuccesful attempts. 

Humans. Birds. We are all silly stubborn creatures, are we not?

Love...Ms. Moon