Go Ahead And Celebrate For Me

 Well, good news for America, but the toll it's taken on Florida for DeSatan to run for president to begin with has been horrendous. He started his anti-science, anti-woke, anti-critical race education, anti-gay rights, anti-woman, pro-gun policies (I'm sure I'm leaving out a bunch of shit) started back when the idea of a run for the Republican nomination was just a tiny spark in his dead, dead eyes. 
Y'all can't even imagine the terrific damage that man has done to this state, trying to out-Trump Trump. Remember when he nominated Joseph Ladapo for surgeon general of Florida and of course the Republican led state senate confirmed him and then Ladapo went on a mission to try and keep Florida "open" during the pandemic and has criticized the vaccines since they made their appearance. As recently as a few days ago he called them "the anti-Christ of all products" because they were showing disrespect to the human genome which is our connection to God. 
So yeah, we've got that going on and have for a long time. 
There's been the "don't say gay" bills, bills making it illegal for trans people to get the medical help they need, stricter abortion laws, books pulled from library shelves because of a group of insane people to the point where now the dictionary has been taken out of some schools because god forbid a child should look up a word like "vagina" in it. 
Drag shows have come under attack. Life for trans kids has been made as unbearable as possible. I personally know several people who have moved out of state because of fear that new laws and the prevailing attitudes are a threat to their very existence. 

I could go on and on. But you know what the bottom line for DeSantis and all of his Republican minion lawmakers in the state is? 
Cruelty. 
These people are just cruel. 
Go HERE to read about how he has refused Federal funds to help with things from health coverage to environmental action, thus putting all of us in danger. 

Now. Would the man have done all these things if he hadn't been running for president? 
Who knows? Not me. 
But I have a feeling he might not have been quite so apt to play to those whom he considers his base. Maybe. He could just be evil. 

So am I glad he dropped out of the race? 
Well, yes. I'd hate to see him do to the entire country what he's done to the state I love and live in. But the results of his attempt to become president have left the most vulnerable, the youngest, the oldest, and the most disenfranchised of our state far worse off than they were before. 

And having said all of that, it's been a gloomy day, but a lot warmer. 

The tree skeletons against a gray sky can have such an effect on us, can't they? I went to town and had lunch with Mr. Moon and Jessie and then went to Home Goods, searching for a new mattress pad and while I was there, I got a cotton quilt/bed cover in a shade of butter that has been whipped to perfection. I went to Publix, I went to Costco. I came home. I survived all of that. Tomorrow I need to take a walk. And I will put my new cover, which is in the washing machine right now, on the bed in hopes that it will be cheering. 

I finished the McMurtry biography. That man lived a life. Since it was a biography, not an autobiography or a memoir, I don't feel as if I really came to know the man from reading it. But I know a lot more OF him. I do know that he loved books. He read them, he wrote them, he bought and he sold them. They were his life. 

The last paragraph in the book gave me a lot to think about. This is what it said:

 "The rules of happiness are as strict as the rules of sorrow; indeed, perhaps more strict,' McMurphy had written. 'The two states have different densities, I've come to think. The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings-crowded, active, thick-urban, I would almost say. But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks and no boundaries; sorrow's horizons are vague and its demands few...I lived on the plain.'"

Life is so confusing and so often frightening, isn't it? 
But books can help us through and McMurtry's have gotten me through some of the most sorrowful and dense of my life. 

I am grateful beyond measure to him which is vastly different from the way I feel about Ron DeSantis. 

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Remembering

I have no photos from today but I found this one on my phone from a long time ago and it bears repeating. Those three bebes. 

Facebook gave me a memory from five years ago the other day that I reposted there because it makes my heart just melt. 

Maggie and August cutting up at the Costco. That first picture with their little feetsies just breaks me. And the look on their faces- as if they're getting away with something absolutely wicked and wild. Levon was just a tiny thing and was in the cart in his covered-up carrier, not yet the grinning imp he would soon become that you see in the first picture.  

It is the most cliched thing in the world to say but goddamn it- they grow up so fast! Now they're reading and writing and doing arithmetic and beating me at gin rummy and they're all the boss of me. 

Lord. How does this happen? 

It's been a quiet day here in Lloyd. Cold. We slept warm though, me with my duck and a cat. Maurice has slept with us two nights in a row now, laying right by my side and not moving all night. Of course if I move she tells me in no uncertain terms that this is not acceptable behavior but I just ignore her and we both go back to sleep. How she and Jack have made this agreement on the change in sleeping arrangements is another cat mystery to me.

Mr. Moon did indeed get up and go duck hunting at 4:30 a.m. He called me a little after ten to ask if he could bring me breakfast from the restaurant where the men had gone after hunting. He's sweet like that. But I was already making my own Sunday breakfast so thanked him kindly and told him I was fine. I've learned to make the fastest easiest biscuits in the world. Well, except for the kind that come out of the pop tube. The good thing about biscuits is that you can cut down the amount of ingredients to whatever you want for however many servings you want. If you're making biscuits for a crowd, you might want to use three cups of flour but if you're making them for one, you can use half a cup of flour. And then I bake them (or it) in the airfryer/toaster oven and they only take about ten minutes. They rise and brown and are lovely. So I baked myself two biscuits and cooked some bacon and heated up leftover grits from last night's fish supper and cooked one egg and it was perfect. It's held me all day. 

Mr. Moon has been doing his usual post-duck-hunting thing which is to snooze in his chair in-between reading the newspaper. He deserves this time. He worked so many hours for so many years and was as involved in his family as he could have possibly been all the while. I look back on those years when the kids were young and his business was young and I can't imagine how we did it. How we survived intact. And yet we did and here we are, in our golden years which are not nearly as golden as one would think they'd be and thank god we have all this practice in surviving despite hard things because there are a million hard things about getting older. I guess the miracle is that we still make each other laugh, we are still kind to each other, we still accept each other as we are, we still have a lot of sweetness and even passion, and we still respect each other. 

Mostly. 

For whatever reason, I've been having dreams about my very first true love. I am not going to denigrate how kids feel about that first relationship because it's as real as rain. It may be fueled by hormones and an incredibly innocent and misunderstood definition of love, but no one forgets it. And some of the longest and best relationships I know of started in Jr. high or high school, were first loves and now fifty years or so later- obviously last loves. 
Obviously I am not still with my first real sweetheart and I haven't really thought of him for years. But I can remember thinking that we would marry and live in a little stucco and tile-roofed house that I loved in Winter Haven. We had two friends who married very young because she was pregnant and their life in a tiny apartment seemed idyllic. Which of course, it wasn't, and they did not stay together for very long. But I so longed to live in a house that was truly a home where I was loved and could love freely. I desperately needed an escape. I think that many, many women get married for that very same reason. 
Thankfully, I did not get pregnant, I did not marry that boy. He was a bit insane, I think, but so was I. I escaped by going to college in Denver, Colorado and that did not work out well but somehow it all ended up with me here, meeting Glen Moon.

So why these dreams now? 
Oh, who knows? The brain giving me memories like Facebook does, perhaps. 

"Here. Remember this?"
Oh. Yes. Yes I do, now that I think about it, now that you've reminded me.  

But unlike FB memories, I have no longing to go back to that time except for perhaps the pure innocence and wonder at what it felt like to be in love and that close to another human being. 

And surely, that's enough of that.

Love...Ms. Moon

Boring, Boring, Boring

 Now this is an interesting picture, I think. Two centipedes on the stump of a banana stalk. I think the centipedes were getting a drink as the chambers in the stalk held water and as interesting as that is, it is the way the banana is constructed that I find particularly beautiful and amazing. As is the structure of a centipede too, really. Together they make a pretty cool contrast of purpose and design. 

Cold. It's been cold today. For me. Even the sky looked cold. 

I didn't want to do a damn thing outside and I mostly didn't. I picked a few salad greens and that was about it. In fact, I haven't done much of anything. I've been back to my slothful ways. Not even worth discussing. Nor did I have an interesting dream. Well, that's not quite true but it was a disturbing dream and I do not wish to discuss it. 

I drove to the Hilltop to get lunch for me and Mr. Moon. I was tired of eating the same soup for lunch after four days of that. So I went crazy and got us shrimp po'boy sandwiches and they were not bad at all. Mr. Moon has gone to a basketball game now and he has taken Gibson and that makes me happy. 

In other grandchild news, I got this picture from Jessie today. 

Levon refused to wear a jacket this morning. And no, that's not snow, it's white sand but still...
That child. At least he's wearing long pants and not shorts. 
I hope they're having a good time at music camp. I think I would have already packed up and come home. No, that's not true. I wouldn't have gone in the first place. 

Jack has been seemingly fine today. He's been very active and very affectionate. And hungry. I think this wound may have been festering for awhile because despite his lovely winter coat, his shoulders and spine feel like he's lost weight. Again- I can't believe I didn't pick up on any of this because I pet him and snuggle him many times a day. I did notice one night that there was a little blood on our sheet but that is not unusual. I am constantly finding blood on my pillowcase from biting my tongue and both Mr. Moon and I have old person skin now which is as substantial as tissue paper and it's not unusual for us to find little abrasions that we have no idea how we got. 
What a drag it is getting old. 

But, I felt his belly a little while ago and the abscess feels much smaller and less tight although when I got too close to the actual wound, he was not happy. He's not licking it though, which is good because he was yesterday. 

So I think he'll live. 

You know, I rarely sit down to write knowing what I'm going to write about. I start out with whatever happened that day which often leads me to a subject I feel strongly about or a situation occurred that triggered something in me but today I have no fire in my belly. When I was writing about the picture above, I almost started in on a thing about how religious people would look at the photo and claim that only God could have created such intricate designs but right now I just feel like, "Yeah, whatever." I will say that a god who would take so much time and energy to create a banana stalk or a centipede should have spent a little more time on human beings whom he supposedly left in charge of the earth and all that grows and lives upon it. 
Oh, it's all so ridiculous. 

So I guess I'll just go start getting supper ready. I looked up the basketball game and it would appear that the game is over and FSU did not win. Luckily, I'm not married to a man who takes these things personally and gets depressed when "his" team loses. I hope Gibson had a good time. I hope that Levon didn't get frostbite. I hope that Mr. Moon doesn't freeze to death in the duck blind tomorrow morning. He told me that he's going to be in the island blind which means he'll have to get in a boat to get there. 
Say what you will about hunting- if a man will get up on a Sunday morning when it's 24 degrees, dress in many layers of wool and thick cotton, drive to wherever it is he drives to, gets in a small boat to go to a very small island to sit in a duck blind to shoot ducks, he must really love it. 

Bless his heart. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Our Sweet Boy Is Good

Last night we noticed a wound near the lump on Jack's belly and I realized that the lump was probably an abscess which I knew was treatable but getting him to the vet this morning was a bit of a process. First we couldn't find him but then Candie, our cleaner, did. And also, we have no cat carrier. Once again, Candie came to the rescue and drove to her house which is not very far away, and got the cat carrier that her little doggie uses for a kennel. She even put a clean, soft blanket in it and a large piece of tape that said, "MOON" on it. She's so sweet. And then she put Jack in the carrier, knowing that neither Glen nor I would want to do that to him and no, he did not like it. Nor did he like being put in the car and driven to Monticello. 
I really like the Animal Clinic there. The vets look like they spend a great deal of time outside wrangling and treating large animals like horses, cows, and perhaps rhinos. There was a tiny little fluff of a dog sitting on the receptionist's desk who was so cute that I would think about cloning if he were mine. We saw the vet within a few minutes of being there and he was gentle and sweet with our boy, as was his assistant. And Jack just sat on the table, being petted and allowing the doctor to check him out and give him a brief exam. He does have an infected bite-wound and an abscess and he was given an antibiotic injection and an injection of a painkiller/anti-inflammatory. And that was that. He will not need pills. 
Phew. I was so relieved that I choked up. 
A funny thing happened when he was back in his carrier and we were paying the bill. A few more people had come into the office and were in the waiting area with us and Jack was making some pretty intense noises of protest and fear, I am sure. Now this is a cat who barely ever vocalizes. He purrs for sure. But he does not talk much so when he came out with a very definite, high-pitched "NO!" I was rather shocked. I mean, he literally said the word, "NO!" 
And then he repeated it. The people around us laughed. It was so obvious that he was speaking English. 
Glen and I often joke (sort of) that cats can indeed understand human speech and can also speak it but of course they don't want us to know that. It works to their advantage for them to keep this ability secret. But I guess that Jack was so stressed out and then the drugs hit and he just lost his shit and said what he was thinking. 
And now he's home and already feeling better, I can tell. He's moving about normally and eating. He came up to sit beside my laptop and get some love which is when I took that picture. I am so very glad. 
I'm wondering who he got in a fight with. Was it Biggie Boy? I haven't seen him in weeks so they may have gotten in a fight and Jack chased him off. I suppose it could take that long for the wound to reach that state of infection. Or was it Maurice? Either way, it was definitely a fight. 

I took another walk today. I realize that I am in the worst shape of my life and that is no lie. There are a million excuses not to exercise and I have used every one of them in the last year. 
Or so.
I am seriously going to change that. I have to. 
I walked down to Lloyd Creek and took a few pictures from the bridge that goes over it. 

Although you can't tell, the creek is running pretty swiftly there. I know the water looks filthy but in reality, that's just the tannin staining. This comes from decaying organic matter like leaves. The sand the creek is passing over is white sand so you can really get a good idea of what tannin water looks like. I think it looks resembles tea, which in a way, is what it is. 

From the other side of the bridge you can see how fast the water is moving. And that's the railroad track bridge there. That track runs directly behind my yard. 

So that was a nice walk. Well, I didn't get hit by a car or pass out or die of a heart attack so yeah, it was nice. I have found myself lately missing the time I used to spend walking by myself outdoors surrounded by trees and birds and sky. Another reason to get out there and make the effort. 

Oh! Here's a picture I took for Steve Reed!

Shadows and light on my sheets hanging in the sun. It was a very pretty day today, and warm, too. A welcome break from the cold and gloom. I even did some weeding in my garden where the greens and lettuces look fine. As of tonight, we'll be heading back into the hard freeze situation but then it will warm up some again. 

And because I think it's hysterical, I will tell you about a dream I had this morning right before I woke. I was going on a cruise with some friends of mine who love to cruise and had invited me to join them. Cruising is their favorite thing on earth. Or sea, I guess. I went on a cruise once that was paid for by a tire company that Mr. Moon did business with and to put it bluntly- I did NOT enjoy it. At all. So in my dream I was so anxious about going on this trip with my friends and then all of my stuff got stolen and then I had an altercation with someone and I told my friends, "Look- I have to get off this boat right now while we're still in port because I've already told someone to fuck off and this is just not going to work for me. If I stay on this boat, it's gonna get bad." And then Mr. Moon came and rescued me. 

I don't think we need to call Dr. Freud to interpret that dream. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

This sweet little nun sits on my stove. May gave her to me many years ago. She is made of iron and is actually a bottle opener. She's one of my favorite things and she always reminds me of one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite movies. 

Feel free to judge me because I do not care. The original Blues Brothers movie was a masterpiece. 
In my world, anyway. 

It's warmed up today considerably but will be getting cold again by Saturday. Jessie and Vergil are taking the boys to a kids' music camp this weekend at a nearby music park where they will be camping. 
Ooh boy. Better them than me. I cannot imagine camping in sub-freezing temperatures. Vergil's a North Carolina boy though so he'll know how to keep them warm. 

A rather disturbing thing came to Mr. Moon's attention this morning and he shared it with me. Jack has a very large lump near his chest. How this has escaped my notice, I am not sure. We looked at each other when he showed it to me and I felt it and yes, it is there and it is large. I am not sure how I could have not noticed this. I love to scratch him right there where his white fur bib is because it's so soft. Maybe his winter coat has hidden it somewhat. 
Anyway, despite our general policy of not taking our pets to the vets, I've got an appointment for him tomorrow morning at the Animal Hospital in Monticello. I think the last time we were there was when he got neutered seven years ago. I like these vets in Monticello. They are used to dealing with country people and their critters and not so apt to push expensive treatment when the outcome will probably not be positive anyway. 
Oh hell. I hate this. You know we love our cats, even Maurice The Mean And Crazy. We give them good lives. Mr. Moon said that he needs to go shoot a deer so that we can give Jack some deer liver which is what our cat Bob ate when he had a tumor of some sort in his head and went half blind and was supposed to die. After he ate the liver, he lived for at least another five years, still faithfully patrolling the property daily, half blind or not. 

I took a walk today. Not a long walk and I felt more out of shape than I've felt my entire adult life. After about three-quarters of a mile, I got my rhythm back but I only walked a mile and a half. I wanted to check this out. 

For some reason that I cannot fathom, they have this sheltered bench near the old truck stop. As far as I know, there is no bus station in Lloyd. There are certainly no local transportation options. I've driven past it several times and never seen anyone sitting there. 
Another Lloyd mystery. 

Right around the corner from it is the fally-down house. I was thinking that all the wind we got last week might have flattened it but no, it did not. 

One of these days the earth will reclaim it but that has not happened yet. 

As you can see, it's been a gloomy day but my spirits have not been too bad. I am not going to get all worked up about Jack until we see what's what. Of course I hope with all of my heart that the vet checks him and says, "Oh, yeah. This is a benign bla-bla-bla. No worries." 

Jack is part of my world and a sweet part of it at that. He does have a bad habit of trying to kill Maurice but they haven't been fighting much lately. I hope that's not a bad sign. 
Well. We shall see what we see. 

Meanwhile, life goes on here. I spend very little time reading the news because I simply cannot deal with it. My mind cannot comprehend so many of the things going on in the world right now. So I am here, living my little insular life, doing the best I can to take note and acknowledge and recognize the details of of that life. The birds, the sky, the way the weather affects us and the things that grow around us, the news of my children and grandchildren, what I cook for supper, whether or not the floor needs sweeping, the vegetable bin needs cleaning out, the bed needs making, or when the laundry needs folding and put away. In my sleep I have dream of messes that I can never clean up in one lifetime, and old friends who are gone, one way or another. It is not an exciting life but it is mine and I am grateful for it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here I Am Again

We left the sprinklers in the garden dripping last night to prevent burst pipes and that's what was left at one corner at around 4:30 this afternoon. It didn't get above freezing until pretty late in the morning which for us is like a Call Out The National Guard situation. 
I've stayed inside most of the day and have truly enjoyed that, just doing little housewifely things. I've got sourdough rising and a gumbo simmering.

I finally got to a chore that we all know and love which was straightening out and tidying up the leftover container cabinet. 

A year or so ago I went crazy and bought a bunch of "real" storage containers although I am still apt to hold on to the best of the perfectly good ones that come for free with ricotta cheese or sesame seeds or something in them. However, the clear glass and plastic ones have made my life a little easier, as I can see what's in them. 

So shall we talk about pheasant? 
Oh, y'all- I have to eat my words and I will absolutely eat pheasant whenever it finds its way into my kitchen. Mr. Moon cleaned the breasts so beautifully and made sure there was no buckshot in any of it which helped tremendously. I made my sauce with onions and garlic and a variety of mushrooms, wine, cream, and a little sour cream. I browned the salted breasts in butter and set them aside, made the sauce, and then put the meat back in the pan with it. I'd cooked some rice and served the sauce and meat over the rice and you know how I always joke when I bring in our meal at night saying, "Here's your gourmet clam spaghetti!" or "Here's your gourmet air-fried fish!"? Well, this WAS fucking gourmet and I made a beautiful simple salad from the garden to go with it and it was delicious. I am proud of that meal and it sure did make the man happy. 
I know I've told this story before but when Glen and I first started seeing each other he came over one evening and sat in my kitchen and plucked some ducks that he'd shot and I thought, "Oh my good Lord, who IS this man and what am I doing with him?" Like every good hippie, I had spent my years as a vegetarian and although I was eating some meat at that point, I'd never even considered eating something that had been plucked at my kitchen table. 
But this is to say that I knew what I was getting into from the very beginning and I chose to accept the fact that I was falling in love with an almost seven foot tall man who was a jock and who loved to hunt and fish. 
He was certainly a change from all of the other men I'd dated and the one I'd married and divorced and there was some minuscule part of me that was sane enough to realize that this was a good thing. 
Oh my. Now I'm getting all nostalgic and shit. 

What else happened today? Not much. Well, the roofers came back to finish up something that has a name but I don't remember what it was. I felt sorry for them all day long, out there in the cold. 

I found another ridiculous post on a Cozumel Facebook group. 

This cracked me up so much. Best places...in what way? On the water, in town, resort, hotel, Air BnB, condo? What's your budget? Unlimited or extremely limited? Are you traveling with children, old people, your swinger friends? Will you be on your honeymoon or are you a single who just wants to dive? Do you want all-inclusive or do your prefer to find your own meals? Do you want to MAKE your own meals? 
Oh god. 
My favorite comment on the post was, "Maybe challenge yourself to provide some parameters?" 

Perhaps I should start doing a daily "Best Cozumel Question on Facebook" thing. 
Yeah, probably not. 

And I guess that's about all I have to talk about today. Oh! I forgot to mention that I finished the Barbra Streisand book yesterday and it was odd to go about my life today without her voice in my ears. If asked how I'd liked the book I'd have to say that it was fine. I have a lot of respect for the woman but I don't think I'd want to be friends with her. My interest was not especially piqued. Her life is just so very, very different than anything I can imagine that it's impossible to relate to her. But I don't feel as if I wasted all of those hours listening to her read her memoir. It was entertaining. 
And yes, she did clone her favorite dog. 

As one does. 

Love...Ms. Moon

More Bitching, Mostly

That picture has nothing to do with my post this evening. Publix had bouquets of roses on BOGO and I could not resist taking a picture of them. I didn't buy any. I rarely buy cut flowers but grouped together in a large mass, they seemed so luxurious and soft and the colors were fabulous. 
Of course they didn't smell like much. Certainly not roses. Still, I fell in love with them for a few seconds. 

So I made it to town. You'd think we were about to have five blizzards in a row, the way I shopped today. I'm a little manic about making sure I have basics on hand anyway. I've found that shopping at Costco only intensifies this slight obsession of mine. Because of the size of the containers of everything you buy there, when you get down to what a usual size of a product at a regular grocery store would be, you feel the need to go get more of it. 
Oh no! I'm down to a pound of cheddar! And look- we only have half a quart of olive oil! I best get to Costco!
It's ridiculous and also, so very American.

Before I went to Costco and Publix, though, I went to the Food Coop with Jessie. She needed elderberry powder to make a syrup for the kids to help ward off illness. I looked around and realized that the days of the coop are probably severely limited. Now that you can get organic foods at regular grocery stores for far less money, those little wilty bunches of chard for $4.99 don't seem so appealing. Of course they have products that the grocery stores don't have and they also sell things in bulk which I do like. I bought two bags of a type of cracker/chip that I fancy and that was it for me. 

So. Guess what we're having for supper tonight? 
Yeah.
Pheasant. It just means a whole lot to my husband for me to cook what he brings home. It really does. I've looked up recipes and I think I'm going to do a sort of wine, onion, garlic, mushroom sauce with sour cream to cook it in. He, too, had done a little recipe research and suggested an idea he'd found which was to brown the pheasant, then put it in a dish and pour cream of chicken soup on it and then bake it. 
Although I'm sure that would be tasty, it ain't gonna happen in this kitchen. I've picked a bunch of greens and we'll have a salad with it and perhaps some rice. I'll let you know how it comes out. I do know that pheasant is considered to be a prized meat, served on fancy occasions. I hope it lives up to its reputation. 

So it hasn't gotten nearly as cold as it's going to get today. The temperature has been slowly dropping all day long and will be down in the low twenties by sunrise. It rained all night and has been gloomy and windy and cutting-wet cold all day. And then the fun will begin! And by fun, I mean everyone in this part of Florida will be walking around wearing puffer coats and fur-lined boots and moaning about how crazy cold it is. A few weeks ago, I saw that it had gotten down into the sixties in Cozumel and people were going crazy! It's all in what you're used to, isn't it? 

So speaking of Cozumel, here's one of my pet peeves- I faithfully follow a few Cozumel groups on FaceBook because I love the pictures and news but what drives me insane is the number of posts of people who are planning on visiting the island asking the most inane questions. Some of these range from "Where are the best tacos on the island?" to "Where can I find a restaurant where the locals eat?" 
Okay. First off, there must be a hundred places on the island where you can get tacos. I've never had a bad taco in Cozumel. Even the ones at the airport are good. And what kind of taco are you looking for? Seafood? Pork? Beef? Vegetarian? What makes a taco good in YOUR estimation? Should it taste like something your Mexican abuela used to make you back in Phoenix or are you more of a Taco Bell kinda person? 
ARGGGHHH!

And where do the locals eat? Well, here's an idea- take a walk down a street that leads to a neighborhood and when you come to a restaurant that great smells are wafting from and there are lots of local people  eating (and it is usually easy to tell because so many places have outdoor dining), then that's probably a local restaurant. If the menu is only in Spanish- YOU'VE FOUND IT! 
Again. The choices are unending. 

I also cringe at the huge number of people who have looked up the ten-day forecast for the island before their arrival and want to know if when they say it's going to rain, does that mean it'll just rain for a little while or all day? And what will the ocean be like? Or even worse, asking how the weather will be months from now when they've got their vacations booked. Will it be really hot in August? 
What do you think? 

But the questions that bug me the most are the ones that show deep paranoia in the questioner such as, "If we get a taxi from Hotel So-and-So to Beach Club This or That, how much should the fare be? I think we might have been overcharged."

Really? Now I'm not saying there are no taxi drivers that would consciously rip off a tourist but come on! You are on vacation in one of the most beautiful places in the entire world and your main worry is that a taxi ride cost you more than it should have? How much are you spending on drinks every day, sir? How much are you paying per night to stay on the island? How much was your plane fare? How much was the Uber ride to the airport from where you live? 
Again- take a walk in one of the neighborhoods where the waiters and taxi drivers and hotel maids and cooks and shop keepers live and tell me that they're making a fortune scamming American gringos. 
I grew up in a tourist town and saw the way that people from out of town, out of state, acted and it was often appalling. I think I vowed then and there to be a good tourist who showed respect and did not think that the entire town owed them something because they'd spent a lot of money to get there. And never to have the gall to say, "Well, we don't do it like that where I come from." You would not believe the number of people who say this which makes me wonder why in hell that person would even leave the place where everything is done properly and the one and only way it should be done. Please. Don't be my guest. Go home. 

All right. I've gotten that off my chest. I'll probably never be president of my local Chamber of Commerce, will I? 

I guess I better go try to cook some pheasant. Wish me luck. I am definitely going to do my best and perhaps I will learn something from this experience. 

Let's all be cozy.

Love...Ms. Moon

So THAT'S Done

Well, today was the day. To be specific, the day we had to move the plants inside. This is an annual event and I hate it, mostly because it's hard although Mr. Moon really does all the heavy lifting and he operates the dolly. But it's not just the physical effort, it's the stress of trying to find places for all of the plants in this house which has little direct sunlight coming through windows. I'm not quite sure why this is so stressful for me, but it is. It always seems like it's going to be such a monumental task that I put off even thinking about it until we get a weather forecast like the one we're getting now. 

Friday just doesn't seem to fit in there, does it? I cannot remember the last time we had that many sub-freezing temperatures in a row here. I don't know what's wrong with me but this is really making me a little anxious. I don't think we're going to freeze to death or anything but I guess in my ongoing psychosis involving me wanting everything to be routine and "normal" all the time, this does not fit the pattern. 
Billy and I were discussing this via text a few days ago and he said that the worst part for him was that he has to go places this week which means he'll have to put on actual clothes and he does not have any that are warm enough to be appropriate for public wear. He works from home. 
"M'am, I don't even know where we keep the socks," he said. 

God, I can relate. 

Can I go all week without having to go to the store? Or will I just put on my overalls, Goodwill cashmere, velvet coat and "fur"-lined Crocs and do my shopping? 
Stay tuned. 

Anyway, now I have house jungles. 

And here are some random plants placed in corners and otherwise unoccupied spaces. 

How much do you love my "art work"? 

That last picture is from the dining room and the biggest plant there in front of the fireplace is a banyan tree and yes, it is way too leggy and I need to trim it. Poor thing. I really shouldn't have it in a pot. When they are allowed to grow in their natural habitats, they can become hundreds of years old and look like this:

But Kathleen gave it to me and I'll not be getting rid of it. 

In that picture you can also see an avocado plant which I gave in and dug up from the compost pile and put in a pot. I think it will die but I just had to give it a shot. If you look carefully, you can see some monstera plant leaves. Do you remember when I found a plant stand and a pot with a monstera in it at the dump and the attendant said that if I wanted, I should just go ahead and take them? Well, those dang plants have lived up to their name if by "monstera" you mean "monster." I now have two rather large ones in big pots that I had to cut the roots from before Mr. Moon could free them from the porch. One stalk of one of the plants broke off in transit and damn if I haven't stuck it in water and that's what's under the banyan tree. Like- I NEED more plants, especially monsteras. 

When we had brought in all the plants we were bringing in, I said, "And we'll have to move them back out in spring and do this all over again next winter."
"And we'll be seventy then," he said. 
"Seventy and a half," I reminded him. 

He got invited to a pheasant hunt this afternoon and left soon after we got the plants in. I was not thrilled at the idea of anyone shooting pheasants. After all of these years I'm still not at peace with hunting. I try to be. I really do because I know how much it means to him. Sometimes though, I'm a little bitchy about it. 
Surprise, surprise, right?
As he was leaving he said, "Look up some recipes for pheasant!" 
"No," I said. 
"I love you!" he called out.
Sigh.

He's home now and I asked him if he'd caught any pheasants and he allowed as how he had indeed caught a few pheasants. I use that word- caught- because it sounds better than shot. Who am I fooling? No one and especially not me. 
I am thinking that I will take one of his pheasants, put it in a quart mason jar (it'll fit after it's plucked, right?) and turn the jar upside down and say, "Here- Pheasant Under Glass. Enjoy."

You know I won't. 

I have no moral authority here. I eat meat. Let us not fool ourselves that a wild pheasant's life is of more importance than a store-bought chicken's. 
And besides, he moves those plants for me twice a year and he does not care a thing about them. Oh, he appreciates what they look like and admires their growth but if I wasn't here, he wouldn't have a potted plant to his name. 

There's the Roseland mango in the area between a bathroom and the pantry. Poor baby. It desperately needs more dirt and some fertilizer and a better location when it's outside. I have sorely neglected it and although benign neglect works well for most plants in my experience, there is a line which can be crossed and I have crossed it with this beloved plant which I started from a seed that came from a tree that I ate mangos from as a child. 

I picked a few more camellias because this time next week, I'll be lucky if there are any viable buds still on the trees. There probably will be. They are not as cold-sensitive as the azaleas.

Life will go on. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Back To The Kitchen, Back To The Nineties

Here is the soup that I probably should have waited a day or so to make as it's not yet cold but will be soon. I mean, it's chilly. For us. But we are still far about the twenties when it comes to temperature. In fact, it was a beautiful, sunny, moderately cool day. However, I fed my sourdough starter last night and I had a small piece of leftover pork roast from when Mr. Moon grilled a few days ago, and of course the garden is bountiful in its greens right now. And I still have some sweet potatoes that I've harvested. 
So about nine-thirty this morning I began the bread process, mixing starter with flour and water and letting that sit for an hour or so and I picked collards and kale and mustards and turnip greens with a few turnip roots. I cut up onions and lots of garlic which is how I start almost all of my soups. I diced up the meat and washed my greens three times and started a broth. Soon it was simmering away with sweet potatoes, tomatoes, the onions, garlic, turnip roots, and greens. I knew I wanted some beans in the soup so I had started some garbanzos earlier and when they were almost done, I added them in. 

And now I've just added one of the squash I got at the farmer's market yesterday and I've also added some parmesan rinds because for whatever reason, I have not been spice-inspired with this soup so decided to add some cheese which makes everything better. 
Am I right? 

The bread is rising nicely, the oven is preheating with my dutch oven in it and we shall see how it all turns out. The bread has oat bran in it and the soup has all those beans and vegetables so at least it'll be a fiber-filled, Fuck You Jay Leno meal. 
I shouldn't say that. Jay can eat whatever he wants for a meal as can anyone. 

Perhaps my New Years resolution is actually to be more empathetic towards others. I don't know Jay's background. Perhaps his mother used to try and stretch one can of Campbell's soup to feed a family of four and that's why he has such negative feelings about soup as a meal. 
Who knows? Not me.

So I'm still listening to the Barbra Streisand book. I've only got seven more hours before I'll be bidding her good-bye. I have to tell you that it's not a bad book. I've learned a lot about the process of getting a movie made. I've learned a lot about Ms. Streisand's many lovers. I've learned that Barbra has not thrown away a good review or a complimentary note in her entire life. I've learned that she has suffered from crippling stage fright. I've learned that her mother was...eh. Not the greatest. I've definitely learned that four and two are her lucky numbers and also that she believes in signs and omens and the presence of angels in her life. 
So, it's all pretty interesting and yes, there are times that I've been listening to it when I've thought, "Oh, Jesus, Barbra. Yes. We know you're amazing and beloved and talented and strong and funny. But then, because it's an audio book, a bit of her singing will be inserted into the narration and honestly- her gift is undeniable. I sort of want to go out and search the thrift stores for her albums and bring them home to play on my beautiful stereo. 
As for her gift as a director, well...maybe. She does love making films and she absolutely gives it her all. And I do believe that her directorial achievements have been ignored by the Academy of Motion Pictures because she's a woman. 

Now. On to the last thing I want to discuss tonight. 
How many of you look at this picture and wish with all of your heart that you could go back and watch Northern Exposure again? 

Do any of you, upon hearing this music yearn desperately to hear Marilyn's soft, wise voice, Chris In The Morning's show on KBHR, Maurice Minnifield's pompous pronouncements, Shelly's and Holling's relationship revelations, Ed's cinematically informed wisdom? And yes, even Joel's cocky, self-sure, blessedly ignorant thoughts on everything? 

Well, now you can. Amazon Prime has finally figured out how to jump through all the legal hoops to air the series again and I, for one, could not be happier. 

Mr. Moon and I have watched two episodes so far, and unlike Moonlighting, there is no need to excuse the sexism, hairstyles, and polyester on the times in which it was made. In fact, Northern Exposure was a show made way before its time and was a work of genius. Well, up until the last season, anyway. No need to discuss that now. 

So just wanted to give you a head's up about that. I am already thinking about specific episodes and wondering how I will view them now in my very late sixties, rather than in my late thirties, early forties. I am also very much looking forward to episodes that I may have forgotten but which have more to give me now that I am older. 
 

And oh- if you've never watched the series and have Amazon Prime, give it a whirl. What the heck? Why not? 

Love...Ms. Moon

Getting To The Truth And Heart Of The Matter

Tired of pictures of Maurice yet? Sorry. She's just so...available. 

She slept with me last night which is a rare thing indeed! Okay, to be honest she slept on the bed with me but she didn't exactly cuddle up. In fact, she slept on her beloved's pillow. Although she did get a little snugglier this morning before I got up. I have no idea how she managed to tell Jack that he was not allowed on the bed but he didn't even try, as far as I know. She sat in the bathroom while I was getting ready for bed last night, and then she followed me into the bedroom and jumped up on the bed when I got under the covers. 
That poor baby. She just gets so nervous about everything. But she's happy now. Her main human is home and I am hoping she can relax a little bit. 

Okay. I want to write some more about the situation that happened in the Dollar General yesterday. I should have been more clear about that and why it was my mistake to have asked that question. There's going to be some brutal honesty here. 

Lloyd is a very mixed community on many levels. Definitely economically. Now I don't know of anyone directly around here who is fabulously wealthy but I know there are some of those people who live within a few miles of here. At least judging by the homes they own. There are, however, plenty of folks who seem to be fairly well off and not exactly worrying about where their next meal is going to come from or whether or not they can afford to pay the light bill. There are also people who I am sure DO worry about how they're going to pay the light bill and there are even people like Harvey who don't have electricity. 
So there is that. 
There are professors who live around here as well as artists, drug dealers, law enforcement officers, people who work as mechanics, musicians, postal workers, ministers, and many other assorted jobs such as grocery store employees, service industry workers, prison industry workers, horse farmers, people who work in the cattle raising industry, people who work in the healthcare industry, and so much more. And although there is some delineation as to the different neighborhoods where differently-employed people live, a lot of us just live in extremely mixed areas where a very nice house is right next to a house with siding falling off it. 
Education is another factor. We have folks who have PhD's and we have people who probably did not go to high school because they had to get jobs in order to help support their families, and all inbetween. 
Let us not forget political differences. We have many die-hard Trump supporters and we have extremely left-leaning liberals who wouldn't vote for the Orange Intestine if you held a gun to their (our) heads.

But. The most obvious difference in our community's population is race. There are Black families who have lived on the same piece of land since their enslaved ancestors got their freedom. And there are white families who live in the houses that those ancestors probably built. I am one of those. This house was built before the Civil War and I seriously doubt that the men who built it were all white and free. 

I am hyper-aware of my privilege. Every moment of my life. Not only was I born white but I was also raised in a house where hunger was never an issue and our power was never cut off because a bill wasn't paid. I've never been denied medical care for lack of money. I've had an education. I have a car and I don't have to scrimp and save to afford small luxuries. Or even some large ones. No one has ever addressed me with a racial epithet. No one has ever refused me service or told me I was not qualified for a job because of the color of my skin. No police officer has ever pulled me or my husband or our children over for a non-functioning tail light because we are Black and thus- probably guilty of a crime in some bigoted cop's mind. 
And do you know why?
Because of the fact that I was born into the family I was born in. 
I did nothing to make that happen. I have not earned the privileges that I was handed freely at my birth. And it is vastly apparent to me that I am no better than anyone else and I never, ever want to make anyone feel as if I think I am. 
I am just another human being living on this earth in incredibly fortunate circumstances. 

Now. I am a woman and we live in a male-dominated and patriarchal society. Also, I have a trans child and I do very much worry about their safety. So perhaps these things have given me a little more empathy. 

And here's why what I said to that man in the Dollar General was wrong yesterday:

First off, I think he may suffer from some mental health issues. I see him walking past my house talking to himself and whenever I greet him, he never responds. Obviously, he has no interest in speaking to me or with me and I should have respected that.  

Secondly, what sort of white lady bullshit is it to imply that I might know more about where to find anything in the Dollar General store than he does? 

Thirdly, "Are you looking for something?" is often code for "What the hell are you doing here? You look suspicious to me." And trust me- this is absolutely the truth. That is a very loaded question. 

Of those three reasons that I should not have asked him that question, the one that resonates most loudly with me is the white lady bullshit one. "Oh here, you (probably) poor, (probably) uneducated, (possibly) not-quite-in-your-right mind, Black boy- let me, with my old, educated, white lady knowledge help steer you to an answer to the information you are so obviously seeking." 

Yes. I was just trying to be helpful. Also, I have a sometimes ridiculous need to assure others that I see them, that I am not one of those people. And because of that, the second the words, "Are you looking for something?" left my mouth, I knew that I should have just walked on out of the store and given this man his privacy. In fact, even before he asked me if I worked there, those same words came to me- Do I work here? No. So why did I say that?

That's what I wanted to try and explain tonight. I hope you understand. And it's on me if people do not understand because these things are far more complex than just determining whether or not a person is being rude. 
Was he rude? Eh, perhaps. 
Do I understand why he said what he said?
Fuck yes. 

And there you go. I will also tell you that I went to the Lloyd Farmer's Market this morning on my way to the post office and there were four tables set up. One was selling dessert-type items, one was selling spice mixes for rubs, one was selling crocheted doo-dads, and one was actually selling produce. I bought a basket of squash. 
Not sure how any of those venders made enough money to pay for the gas to get to Lloyd, but perhaps things will be better in the spring. 

Love...Ms. Moon