Nope. Not A Dream

Due to an increased pain situation last night I caved this morning and called my doctor’s office. They sent me to get x rays and a few hours later my sweet doctor called me and said, “You did it! You really did it!” 

Long story short I broke four ribs. I knew it was more than one. Hell, I can feel them shifting. 

But- nothing to be done unless one of several dire scenarios occur at which case I should go to the hospital. 

Dr. Z was so kind. He kept saying, “I’m so sorry this happened to you!”

I’m pretty sure he meant it. 

And that’s about all I have the energy to write tonight. I’m glad I went and got checked out because now I know why and where the pain is coming from for sure and now I will be even more careful to rest and heal. I keep thinking of things I should do. Could do. Really! 

And then I’m just letting them go.

Mr. Moon will take care of me and the doctor prescribed me some pain pills. I’m spending a lot of time in his chair. 

Thank all of you for your kind words. They are helping me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Like A Dream But Not An Especially Good One

After things had calmed down last night and I was learning the limitations of my movements, I realized that the top back of my leg hurt pretty bad. I reached down to find a hematoma lump the size of Levon’s head there and no wonder it hurt. Nothing’s broken there but it says a lot that I hadn’t even realized I’d hit on that part of my body too. 

Bed was a struggle. It was not easy to find a comfortable position and getting in and out and even changing position was agonizing. But with Ibuprofen I did manage to sleep and woke up this morning in a little less pain. As I texted the kids- I didn’t have to muffle my screams of pain once so...winning. 

The fact is that I did truly injure myself and it’s going to take some time to recover. And I am going to have to walk the fine line of being too sedentary and trying to do too much. This probably means no bean picking or chicken coop cleaning or laundry carrying or the throwing about of iron skillets for awhile. 

I spent a lot of time today in Mr. Moon’s chair with many pillows and Maurice. The man went to the Hilltop and got us a lunch and that was amazing. Fried shrimp sandwiches and potato salad. It’s been forever since we’ve eaten anything like that. And then I went to bed and slept for two hours. 

While I was asleep Rachel dropped off enough food for us to eat for a week. An entire roast chicken with potatoes and carrots, Parmesan and garlic spinach, cheese grits and brownies. And a card. And flowers. 

I could have wept with gratitude. 

It’s been raining on and off all day. Pressure systems and possible storms appear to be surrounding us from all the seas and oceans and it is that time of year. Do I even need to say that the hurricane lilies will be popping up in a few weeks?

In chicken news, when Mr. moon went out to help Dearie into the baby coop last night she had already flown in herself and this morning she flew out by herself. 

She is growing up! 

Sniff. 

It is still drizzling. I am sure the beans are way overdue for picking and I don’t even feel up to sitting and shelling field peas. I have to remember that’s okay. My job right now is to breathe and rest. It’s hard but a good reminder that the world moves on with or without my active participation. 

We will eat some of Rachel’s delicious dinner. I will be grateful. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, Hell

Yes, the AC is fixed and running like a sweet cool top and for that I am so grateful but I’ve got something else on my mind which is sort of taking precedence. 

It had been a pretty good day. We met the mother-daughters at the river and although it was pretty crowded we did our best to social distance and enjoy the time but people were just so heedless that Mr. Moon and I finally just packed up and came home. I fixed up some old work shorts of Glen’s with a new button and a patch and snapped some beans. I unloaded the dishwasher where I’d put the hummingbird feeder and I made up some fresh nectar and was headed out the door to hang it in the back yard. We’d just had a tremendous rain and I put on my back porch Crocs which are really sort of dangerous shoes and while going down the steps my feet slid right out from under me. I hit the steps hard and just sat there stunned for a moment, knowing I’d done something serious. I gathered my wits and my breath and carefully stood up and walked over and hung the feeder. 

My diagnosis is that I’ve busted a rib. I hit hard on my right side on my back and from what I’ve read that’s probably what I did. It feels sorta funky. 

Drs. Google  all seem to say that there’s not a damn thing you can do for a broken rib. I can take deep breaths although there is a little pain at the site when I do. I am not vomiting. Moving and twisting are tricky. I’ll be taking it easy for awhile. I’d already prepped some supper and it was going to be awesome. Pork chops with cherries, figs, and peaches. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Whenever I have injured myself before, I’ve been very aware of the endogenous opioids that my brain releases and I’ve got a nice little buzz going right now. 

And there’s a hummingbird at the feeder. 

Please don’t tell me to go to the doctor. I will if things change. My husband is being most caring and attentive and my children are all texting me with love and concern. Arnica has been applied. 

Right now Tallahassee is a hot spot for the virus and I’d just as soon not add that sort of exposure to my worries. 

Gonna be an interesting night. But I’ll be cool!

Watch your steps, y’all. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

How Did They Do It?

Honestly, the heat hasn’t been that bad. 

Not as long as all I do is to literally sit in front of a fan. If I get up and try to do something it’s fairly horrible. 

Last night after supper Mr. Moon drove to town and retrieved a portable free-standing air conditioning unit that he remembered had been left behind in the bank building we own after the tenant left. 

We were to be saved!

The thing looked almost brand new. It weighed a thousand pounds but my husband somehow got it into our house, into our room and vented it out a window and plugged it in. It is an LG and as their appliances do when you start them, it sang a cheerful little tune and began to chug away. 

Ah lah! Hurrah! 

And then it and all of the lights on that particular circuit died. 

The man spent a good hour trying to figure out a remedy for this problem with different outlets and industrial extension cords and even a call to Vergil who knows a great deal about electricity. 

Alas. It was not to be. 

By this time we were both soaking wet with sweat and - dare I say it? - a bit irritated. 

Okay. We were in a foul mood. 

I took a tepid shower and laid on the bed with two fans on me including the one that would power a small aircraft and it wasn’t bad. And I really slept fine. 

My husband, however, did not. He reported tossing and turning and feeling tortured all night long and he was not in a great mood this morning. 

He had to go into the office which was probably a blessing because of course they have AC. I got my bean picking done early and was sweaty as a nasty little beast by the time that was over. Then I ate my breakfast and went to the dump and paid our water bill and stopped at the post office where I ran into a neighbor. 

“How are you?” she asked and I said, “Fine except that our AC...”

That was as far as I needed to get. 

“Oh no!” she said. 

“Yep,” I said. 

We commiserated and I said, “How did they used to stand it?”

“How did the slaves do it?” she asked. “How did they work in the fields?”

We didn’t know. We do not know. We will never know. 

I got a few things done around here today but not much. Even making the bed felt like a grand achievement. As I said yesterday- we are so spoiled. I finally settled on the couch (with a fan on me) and shelled peas and watched “Indian Matchmaker” which is a series about yes, an Indian matchmaker. She is from Bombay (I think) but she has clients in the US too. It’s the perfect show to watch while shelling peas. It turns out that Indian matchmakers have resources which American matchmakers do not. Astrologists are important because if two people have clashing signs, don’t even go there. Also, face readers who can predict what sort of a marriage partner a person will be by simply studying a photo. This particular matchmaker also utilizes a life coach for a client if needed to straighten out a particular problem blocking the way to marital bliss. BUT she also has to deal with mothers. Especially mothers of sons. One mother is so daunting about when she wants her son to be married despite the prospect of an actual bride (the wedding will be in December!) and how a prospective daughter-in-law will behave (this is my house and she will follow our practices!) that I can’t imagine anyone agreeing to marry the son who states on camera that he is looking for a girl just like his mother. 

Arrrgghhh!

And sometimes one has to wonder if the matchmaker should be seeking a partner of the same gender as a client but I don’t think that would go over well, especially for her clients in India. 

And so it’s an interesting show for someone as shallow as I am and I find myself wondering what astrologists and face readers and even life coaches would say about Mr. Moon and I as a couple. 

He is home and still a little out of sorts but he’s cut up a watermelon and proclaimed that he will be sleeping upstairs tonight. I’m making a salad for our supper. It will be fine. Perhaps tomorrow the new compressor will be in (inshallah) and the sky is turning dark and the breeze has kicked up and thunder has rumbled quite nearby. To get rain would be such a blessed relief. 

I feel certain that I am not the first woman living in this house to have that thought. 

Thank you for visiting. I really do mean that, you know. 

See you tomorrow when hopefully it will be cooler. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Does Not Bode Well

Last night we noticed that the temperature in the house was three degrees warmer than the thermostat was set for. 

“Hmmmm,” we said. 

This had been normal when we had our old air conditioner but since we’ve had the new one that has not happened. 

We decided that it had just been a very hot day and it had been. Upper 90’s. By morning it was all nicely cooled off. We had to go to town to take the red car to the mechanic for its inspection and then to the Credit Union where Mr. Moon has his office and where his car was. 

The drive to the mechanic’s and back to the Credit Union took us through parts of Tallahassee I had not traveled in years but which, when I went to FSU’s nursing school and Hank and May were in daycare, I traveled many, many times. So many memories and my god- so much has changed. 

After I dropped my husband off I went to Costco and Publix and while I was there I got a text from my husband asking if I was still in town and could I come back to the Credit Union to sign some documents and I started stressing out because I had hit my limit and hit it hard when it came to being out among people. 

But back to the Credit Union I went and then finally HOME and when I walked in the door I realized that it felt warm. I checked the thermostat and although it said that it was cooling it was lying. The fan part was on but the air coming through the vents was just air. I came out to the back porch which the unit is right beside and it was not doing a thing. Silent as a nun in prayer. 

As I texted to my husband- “Shit, shit, shit.”

I won’t continue to go into minute detail at this point. I will only say that a repairman did come and after checking things out he announced and showed me that we had a burnt out compressor which I understand is a very important part of the air conditioning process. 

It could have been caused by lightening or a power surge or, or, or...

And the soonest that they can get a new one is Wednesday. 

This is somewhat of a nightmare. 

It’s supposed to get down to 75 degrees here by 6:00 am but back up to 80 by 9:00 am and then on to the breathless and horrid nineties soon after. 

Sigh. We are so spoiled. 

I am hoping that with fans we will be able to sleep. Actually, Mr. Moon may sleep upstairs as the two bedrooms up there have window units but I do not want to sleep upstairs in a twin bed. I want to sleep downstairs in my own bed. 

I am weird that way. If it gets too hot though, I’ll trudge up that long winding staircase. There have been nights in my life which were so hot that I cried. I remember these nights with startling clarity even though I was a child for most of them. Of course this house was built for hot summers with its high, high ceilings and the long hallway. One does not sleep in the hallway however. I think if we open doors and windows tonight and close them in the morning we will be fine. 

Or, survive at least. 

I tell you what though- I am NOT going to do a damn thing that I don’t have to in the next two days that would raise my body temperature. No way. I am going to move slowly and I am not going to move much. I am also not going to wear much. 

Jumping in the river may be involved. I hope so. 

Things come in threes, or so they say. As of right now, the MacBook and the air conditioning are out of commission. I am not superstitious but I do not want to tempt fate by saying this. And yet- here we are. 

I’ll keep you updated. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Gluten Tolerance

Thank god that the pandemic has magically helped us all with our gluten intolerance problems. I’m pretty sure that it hasn’t done anything for actual celiac disease but the avoidance of gluten appears to be on the wane. 

I was having these thoughts this morning as I was making pancakes for my man (apple, peach, pecan) and started toting up all of the bread products I have in the house. There were the pancakes, the naan I made to go with last night’s supper, the banana bread I made last week, the loaf of sourdough I had rising and, just in case we ran out of wheat related products- half a loaf of Killer Dave’s bread in the refrigerator. 

This is not counting the crackers. 

Hoo-boy. 

A Sunday. I woke up cranky. I’d had a dream where I was about to start 9th grade and then I realized that no, I really did not need to do that because I’d graduated from high school quite a long time ago. It was a relief to just walk out of that school. The crankiness came after I realized I was going to have to get a job to support myself and had no skills. Not that 9th grade was going to provide any of those. 

  

But you know- life. I got up and made those pancakes and tended my chickens and when I reached into the little coop to help Dearie out she fluttered right into my hand and I kissed her little head and set her down by her chirping mama and they were off to do chicken things. It’s just about time for that little one to figure out how to get in and out of the baby coop herself. 

A friend of ours whose car was totaled last week through no fault of her own was scheduled to come over to look at and drive my old Prius. Mr. Moon offered it to her because he knows it’s a good car and he loves to put people he cares about in good cars. So I had to clean out the red Prius and put my stuff in the white Prius and my husband said, “This one isn’t as big as your old one,” and as I put the kid booster seat that I’d bought for Gibson years ago into the car I said, “Who cares? My grandchildren will probably never get to ride in a car with me again,” and I teared up a little, thinking of how thrilling it was for August to sit in that booster seat and drive the two blocks to the dump with me and then to stop at the Post Office. 

Dammit! If the Orange Dong had been half a leader and listened to the scientists and doctors and enacted the recommendations they were making back in Fucking February we might be over this shit. 

But no. 

No, no, no. 

Anyway, our friend fell in love with the car. I think it will soon be hers unless the mechanic’s inspection reveals something untoward. I am so glad she’s going to get it and love it. I can’t think of one darn thing about that car that wasn’t absolutely lovely. As is our friend. 

It was so good to see her. 

And the rest of the day has been fine. Bean picking, crossword puzzle doing,  clothes washing, and other stuff. I’ve picked an eggplant and a bell pepper to go into a sauce to be served tonight over ravioli, and the bread is in the oven. I wish I could post pictures. It’s an impressive loaf. It is one day closer to when my MacBook will be shipped and one day closer to me turning 66. 

Age is only a number but dear god my numbers are wracking up alarmingly. Last year I spent my birthday on the road to Asheville with my love and it was perfect. I remember so much about it which is unusual. But hey! Here I am and I’m not really complaining. After all, I do not have to attend 9th grade again although I wouldn’t mind having a few of those hormones which were dancing about so freely within me in those days. 

Oh hell. I have to make supper! 

Love...Ms. Moon 

About Rotten Potatoes And More!

Here’s the thing- if you smell what you think might be a rotten potato you can be 99% sure that it is and if you choose to wait before investigating the situation, it will not get better. 

We all know this. 

So I’ve been smelling something that smelled dead for a few days, just bare whiffs, you know, but it was not getting better. So this morning I opened up the cabinet in my kitchen hutch where I keep my potatoes and onions and garlic and some assorted things that I hardly ever use like the bases of blenders which lost their jars and which may or may not work and a plastic box thing that I bought because I read an article about how handy it was for dusting things with flour you want to fry like fish or onion slices, I guess. My crockpot and waffle maker hide down there in the depths as well because I rarely use them. I got down on the floor and dug out all this stuff and was a bit surprised to see that none of the potatoes or even onions were rotten in the least. 

So I cleaned out years of crackly onion skins and a bag of garlic that has long since passed the point of usefulness and also the two blender bases and the plastic fish coater. Those last three items I put in my car to take to the dump to set where people put these things which may still have use to someone. 

I put everything I was keeping back in after I’d cleaned it and then discovered my rotten potato which was in the very top of a wire basket thing I have sitting on the counter of the hutch where I keep mostly fruit and sometimes shallots and ripening avocados. I threw the potato away and that was that. At least that cabinet is tidied and there are three fewer unnecessary and unwanted items in the house. 

Inspired by that I took out the drawer from the bottom of the oven and cleaned dust and escaped dried beans and friskies and a rogue Benadryl from under there. 

That was the extent of my housecleaning efforts for the day. 

 

I picked beans of course and then I sat and snapped today’s haul as well as yesterday’s haul and they are ready for the pot and the freezer. 

We are about to get a fine harvest of eggplants. How many eggplants can one couple eat?

We shall see. The bell peppers are almost ready to be picked and I am getting banana peppers daily. We are also getting a few cayenne peppers every day. They are as shiny and red as an eighties supermodel’s fingernails. I saved a cool bottle a few years back and I am making pepper vinegar in it, one or two peppers at a time which is ridiculous but at least they are being used. 

The sourdough starter is still feisty and bubbly and I made up dough for bread I’ll bake tomorrow. That is in the refrigerator rising slowly, slowly in the cool darkness there. 

Mr. Moon has had a very frustrating day being a tractor mechanic. This is in aid of his deer feeding site or at least the one he wants to plant which requires a tractor. He’s only come in the house to eat lunch and watch YouTube’s on tractor repair. He sighs and curses and at one point he said, “I need to get a new tractor.” 

He probably does but I know he likes that old one that the children love to play on so much, especially Levon. It belonged to Billy’s beloved PawPaw and it has seen better days to be honest. 

But you know...

And this afternoon I finished listening to the audio version of Ann Patchett’s newest novel, “The Dutch House” which was narrated by Tom Hanks. 

What a joy!

It made me wish for even more menial labor to attend to for my listening pleasure. 

I can’t think of one more thing I feel the need to discuss except that I am so sorry John Lewis has died. How rich we are to have had him! How much poorer we are to have lost him. He changed the world with his strength and grace and truth. He was mighty as he had the flame of justice in his heart. He was one of those people that you wish could live for centuries but I know that the results of his work and his words absolutely will. 

And may Ruth Bader Ginsburg not go to meet him in the good place just yet. 

Rotten potatoes stink up the joint and as I said, they cannot be ignored but must be dealt with. 

Please- I ask of all the magic in the universe that the rotten potatoes in our government be dealt with soon. And while we’re at it- let’s clean out the whole damn cabinet. 

Etc. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It would appear that I can post from my phone but without pictures. 

Which is sad because I took a picture of one of No Man Lord’s newest art installations today on my walk and was going to share it. 

Sigh. 

It’s a very large sign and in blue paint he has written “He Spoke to Me” and on the side, in case there is any doubt, “Jesus.”

I wish Jesus had spoken to me last Monday night and told me not to pick up the glass beside my MacBook so carelessly. That would have saved me a lot of anguish. However, Jesus does not speak to me and if he did I do not think he’d be speaking about such prosaic things but who knows?

Not me. 

So. I have ordered a new MacBook from Apple because the one I want is sold out everywhere in Tallahassee. It will not even be shipped until at least July 24 but that’s the way it is. By the time it finally gets here I will be wishing I’d paid the extra $$$ to just get the next model up at Costco but yesterday was a frustrating day and all of my choices were not the best. 

And here I am like a junkie without her junk making do with this little phone and a wonky blog app. If this doesn’t publish I might just lose my mind because I’ve written about five posts that never got posted and I am growing weary of this.   

Still, all is really well here in Lloydville. It’s still hotter than devil’s balls but the mosquitoes seem to have slacked off a little bit. The beans are still coming in in vast quantities. I went out today to pick both them and field peas and it took me over an hour at which point I thought I might pass out. But I did not. The heat really is bad though. This morning Mr. Moon worked outside in the front yard and I took a walk and later, when he was getting ready to go finish up some things at Hank and Rachel’s duplex he said, “I’m already tired.”

“Me too!” I said and we both cracked up. 

There is comfort in living with someone the same age as you. Life’s changes occur to both of you at approximately the same rate which is reassuring. I have nothing against May/December relationships but if I were a woman of my age married to a man twenty or even ten years younger I would probably feel even worse than I do now about the way my skin falls in flaps and folds, wrinkled and crepey. And I would probably constantly be trying to hide my forgetfulness and distractedness but instead, I can laugh ruefully with my partner as age has its way with both of us. 

And yet- since we’ve known each other since we were young and smooth of skin and clear of eye and mind, we can still see that in each other underneath all the other stuff. At least I hope he can see that in me as I mostly certainly can see it of him. 

Well. I did not plan to write an essay on aging and marriage and love but here we are. 

The country continues to wallow in bizarreness as the presumed leader descends farther and farther into criminal and immoral and idiotic behavior. I commented again on a post on FB by my young friend because I couldn’t help it. She responded by saying that perhaps I should I should unfriend her and I did. I feel no remorse whatsoever. Simply a freeness. I don’t need that in my life and she does not need me in hers. 

In better news a good friend of mine, a beautiful soul, got a scan yesterday as it was suspected that he might have a lethal form of cancer and as I was walking this morning he sent me a text that the scan came back clean and I could not be happier. I told him to “Eat all the foods, drink all the drinks and make all the love.” 

I know he will and that makes me so happy. And that’s not bad advice for any of us. 

I’ve got homemade egg rolls ready to go in the oven, Dottie and Dearie are still alive, and I can hear Liberace calling his ladies to roost. 

I better end this and get to my end-of-the-day responsibilities. 

Lord, I hope this gets posted. 

Happy Friday, y’all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Test

Oh, Y’all

I am having the hardest time here. 

I’m fine but I’m having technological problems with technology. My beloved MacBook is toast and My blogger app is asking things of me that I cannot seem to deliver. 

Overall though everything is fine and I’m working on it. 

Thank you for all of the emails and messages checking in on me. 

I feel loved and cared for even more than I feel frustrated and that’s a lot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And Again

Argrrgh!

This is not working. 

Hurray!

I am alive. More later. 

Testing

It Is The Season Of The Bean

Today's haul.
Mr. Moon and I were sitting in the Glen Den watching some TV while I snapped green beans and he shelled field peas and he described to me how he's been fertilizing the beans.
"Maybe it's time to stop that now," I said.

Ooh boy.

I'm slowly filling up the garage freezer with quart bags of the beans and it truly is nice to know that this fall and winter I'll have green beans for suppers, soups, stews. I'm not really complaining but it does seem as if my life is mostly defined by these beans right now, picking, snapping, freezing, and cooking them.

This morning I woke up in despair. Just pure despair. Last night I made the huge mistake of getting into it (gently) with a girl I know on Facebook who had posted something about how 99.5% of people who get covid survive and how "they" are using the virus to deny us our civil rights and wreck our economy. That it was created in a lab in North Carolina and then shipped to Wuhan and that Dr. Fauci was in on it and is somehow benefiting financially (I guess) from all this.
I've known this woman literally from the moment of her birth and I had no idea that her thinking goes along these paths. And I used to be good friends with her parents. They certainly, at that time at least, didn't cling to conspiracy theories.
And I suppose that despite knowing full well that even trying to begin to untangle such a web of faulty thinking, of determined ignoring of the facts and science was a fool's errand, I thought that perhaps maybe...what? That I could make her see the light?
Yeah. No.
All it served to do was upset me. To her, the things she thinks are PROVEN FACTS and that is that.
But just knowing that even people whom I know to be intelligent and raised by liberal parents can somehow slip into the that river of denial and conspiracy depressed the living fuck out of me.
I should have just thought, "Bless her heart," and moved on.

But I just felt so overwhelmed this morning. Like it's all too much. Too damn much. Everything is out of balance, sliding from this side of the ship to the other in the storm-tossed seas we're trying and failing to navigate. But there's nothing to be done except to try and stay upright, to attend to that which needs attending.
I guess.
I realized that today was going to be one of those days where I could not ask very much of myself. And I didn't. I got some things done but nothing extra, certainly nothing extraordinary.

Like a sweet blessing, Lis called this morning and told me to go to the post office which I did. She had sent a box filled with lovely treats. Dresses, mostly, that she'd cleaned out of her closet, soft and cool and pretty and a very welcome relief from my overalls. Also some delicious looking fruit syrups for Mr. Moon and some antique fabric for whatever I might want to make with it. She also sent yards of old tulle that is meant for Hank and Rachel's wedding whenever that happens. A tropical blouse, a skirt, a card for Mr. Moon's birthday.
In other words- a treasure box.
I'm wearing one of the dresses now. April Cornell with buttons down the front, pretty detail on the bodice. It feels like wearing a nightgown. A really lovely comfortable nightgown with pockets.
I swear- over half of what's in my closet came from Lis. She takes care of me. I love her so.

I started a loaf of sourdough last night and instead of baking it in my dutch oven as I always do, I baked this loaf on a baking stone with a pan of water in the oven to provide steam. We shall see how it tastes but it is a fine-looking thing. I think we shall call it "artisanal."

Jessie brought sandwiches yesterday that she'd made from the starter I gave her and her bread looked better than mine. Hard for a mama to admit but true. I asked August if he'd like a piece of my bread and he said that he would. I sliced him a piece and handed it to him and he said, "Ummm, it would be better if you put butter on it and heated it up."

And so I did. 

And of course he's right. Bread is always better heated up with butter on it. Even a four-year old knows that. 

Dottie and Dearie are safe in their little coop. Dottie is taking such good care of that child all day, leading her about the yard, the chick running to keep up with her, peeping and occasionally trying out her tiny still-downy wings. Darla continues to sit on the nest. 

I still feel overwhelmed and somewhat in despair but I am doing my best to keep my sea legs beneath me, to find balance in this strange storm. I never feel as if I am succeeding but how does anyone do that these days? 

At least I am wearing a pretty dress as I make my way drunkenly across the deck of this rolling ship. 

And we'll be having a warm green bean salad with our supper tonight. Oddly, they still taste so very good to me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lots Of Bugs

That's an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail that I saw feeding on the zinnias this morning. It was a little cooler when I went to let the chickens out and go water Mr. Moon's earth boxes in the garden. There was life abounding. I saw a Zebra Longwing butterfly on another zinnia

and a fine, fat bumblebee on one of the rattlesnake bean blossoms. He or she would not let me take their picture. 

I sent out a text to the young'uns that I had extra limes and lemons, green beans and field peas if anyone was interested. Jessie texted back that she would love some limes and lemons and both kinds of beans. Could they come out?

Of COURSE they could. 

I quick, quick finished up August's dress. 

I found some rather odd and semi-hideous but interesting buttons in a box that Lis had given me. Perfect! 

I was sewing them on the pockets just as they got here. August pronounced the dress to be exactly the way he wanted it. Which pleased me no end. I had apologized for the lack of sequins but I think the bug buttons made up for that. I asked him if he wanted to wear the dress and he said, "No, not now."

"Just put it on so I can see how it looks on you," I said. 

"We'll send a picture," he said, and went off to collect books for me to read. 

He's a crackie. 

Levon was wearing a dress but not one I'd made. Jessie got it for him for about four dollars and it looked very cool and breezy. 

Perfect for a hot day exploring Boppy's cool toys in the garage. 

We read a few books that they picked out. Levon had to find the dump truck book and the tractor book and also the Duck in the Truck book. We sat on the back porch to read them, two fans going strong. Then we had a little lunch. 

Look at those eyes. 

It was so nice to sit and chat with Jessie and the boys. The boys had a lot to say. They generally do. 

We all went outside to see if we could find Dottie and Dearie which we did. Jessie and I picked a few green beans, just for the fun of it, and we went over to see the goats next door. The chickens who live there all seem to be suffering from some sort of horrible ass-feather problem. 

Ick. 

While we were over there we found two perfectly undamaged small bottles lying side-by-side. That area of the yard was at one time the place where everyone dumped their trash and in those days, trash was mostly glass and metal and only the glass really remains. There are scores of pieces of broken glass and finding whole and entire bottles is a treat. I told Jessie she could have them and she took them home and had the boys clean them outside and sent me this picture. 

You can barely see the brown one (which looked to me to have once held paregoric or something of that nature) under the begonia leaf she's rooting in it but you can see the clear one. It once held Hind's honey and almond cream. It can't be really, really old because it had a screw top but after just a few moments of googling, I see that although the company started making the face cream in the late 1800's, they sold it well into the forties so it's got to be at least that old. Possibly eighty years old? Not worth much, as far as I can tell, but a sweet little bottle, another tiny bit of history. A woman who lived here cared enough about her face to buy and use honey and almond cream on it. I bet it smelled so good. A little bit of luxury here in Lloyd. 

When they left, I traded the boys a cookie for a toe nibble apiece and sent them home with enough beans for days. And lemons and limes and a small rooted bit of lace-cap hydrangea and the bottles, of course. It had been a sweet joy to have them here. 

I've had two calls from Mr. Moon. One this morning when he told me that he'd slept well and was going to get to some projects around there and then probably be home around four or five. 

The second call just came a little while ago where he reported that obviously he was on "Glen Time" and had the boat loaded up and was about to cross the bay. 

I had a feeling that this would probably happen. He is always quite certain that he can finish up a project in a few hours that will, in fact, take a day at least. This is better than what I do, however, which is to moan and bitch that something is going to take forever and thus, never even start it. 

But no problem. I think I'll make some clam spaghetti and a salad and I can warm up the pasta when he gets home and get the salad out of the refrigerator. I am still able to pick enough of the lettuce I planted in pots as well as arugula and basil (three types!) to make the tastiest salad on earth although we are (sob! weep!) just about out of tomatoes with no more to come unless I get my ass to a nursery to buy more plants. 

Did you see that Florida has broken the record for most covid cases reported in the US in one day today? Even more than New York ever did! Of course, we're testing more than we were a few months ago but still- SO MUCH WINNING! Let's go to Disney World! Because they're open! Which makes so much sense! 

So. Are more tomatoes worth the risk of covid? Well, there's one nursery where even the cash registers are outside so perhaps I'll chance that. 

Dear god. 

I can see Dottie and her tiny fluff of a child from where I'm sitting on the porch. They need to get back into the coop so I can go catch the peep and put her in the baby coop. Last night when I did that I almost ran straight into the biggest mama banana spider I've ever seen in my life. I literally bounced off her web. The golden orb weavers (their real name) this year are healthy and hungry. 

And beautiful in their own spidery, wise, and clever ways. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Lagniappe

Mr. Moon just sent me this from Dog Island. A sweet moment after a long, hard day.

A Saturday

Well, day two of Dearie being free to roam with Dottie and as we speak they are both safely shut up in their little pen after spending all day roving the yard. I was shocked to see them all the way out into the side yard by the garden when I was picking beans but there they were, the little one almost hidden by the grass. It's such a lovely, cheerful sight to see them but I'm going to be crying if she gets snatched and it will all be my fault. I know it. All the rest of the chickens appear to be doing fine. I'll be glad when the younger gals start laying because egg production is way down to only one or two a day. I feel like Violet has to be laying somewhere but I have no idea where that would be. But this heat is hard on the hens and they do slow down production in the summer.

Today was a good day. I stayed up a little later than I should have last night. I sort of had a private party last night. While I made my supper I listened to Keith Richard's album Crosseyed Heart and sang and danced as I chopped and cooked. No one here to hear my croakings, no one to watch my old-lady shufflings. Just me and Keith. And while I ate I watched (for probably the fifth time) the Netflix documentary, Under The Influence and the sweet old man made me happy in the heart. I may not talk about him much but I still love him. As I wrote a friend of mine, sometimes these days the only thing in the world that makes sense to me is Keith Richards.
I doubt that will make any sense to anyone but it is true for me. As Keith has said, "You've got the sun, you've got the moon, you've got the Rolling Stones."
Fuck Covid. Fuck Trump.
Give me music and give me the spirit of Keith Richards. My spirit totem animal.

Anyway, I ended up not turning the light off until a little after midnight which is way late for me but I woke up at my regular time and got up and managed to get the beans picked, both of the green variety and the field pea variety. And oh, it was hot! I realized as I was in the garden that Maurice no longer joins me there these days. She's not stupid, that cat. She'll come keep me company when it cools down, I think. She still loves me. She's within touching distance of me right now, stretched out with the fan on her, snoozing as the crickets lullaby her.

Jack was under my feet but he's disappeared. Probably back to the bed where he's been napping almost all day on Mr. Moon's side of the bed as if to demonstrate his enjoyment at being the only male in the house. 

So I picked beans and I did a tiny bit of weeding and then a small amount of mulching and turned the sprinklers on. Despite the heat I do love being in the garden for at least short amounts of time, especially this year after Mr. Moon has made it so beautiful, so fruitful, so bountiful, and on top of that has provided so many bags of leaf mulch to keep it that way. 

I finished August's dress to the point where it is now ready to decorate with those mythical sequins and rick-rack. There is rick-rack on the pockets and I've been going through the button tin to try and get inspiration for trimming. 

Lily sent pictures of the kids on a walk/bike ride they took around a little pond by the east side library. I think they were brave to go out for recreation in this heat. She said that the kids were fine but Pepper- maybe not. 

Oh dear GOD! I texted. You've killed the dog!

But no, Pepper is fine. Owen carried her the last little bit. 

What a sweet boy my Owen is. 

Jessie sent a picture of her family eating popcorn in bed. She'd been taking a nap and the boys woke her up but since they brought her popcorn, it was okay. 

Do you think Levon has his mama's smile? 

A sweet, simple day. For me. 

Mr. Moon called and he has not had a sweet simple day. He is exhausted and probably heat exhausted and on top of that- no fish. No one was catching today. 

Dammit. I wanted some fish. And I wanted him to catch them. 

Fishing offshore is not just like going on a boat ride or throwing a line out into a lake under the shade of a willow tree. It's hard work. And it's hot. And there's no shade. And they can't just jump into the water to cool off. Added to all of that, he didn't sleep well last night as it took forever for the house to cool down. That little place sits in the sun and bakes and if the AC hasn't been on in awhile, it's that much worse. He told me he'd left the thermostat at 74 today and when he got in from fishing it was still only 79. 

I was so hoping that he'd have a wonderful time but that's not what's happened. He's not even going to go out tomorrow. He's just too tired. I hope he gets some sleep tonight. 

I feel pretty sure that I will. Get sleep tonight. I generally do. 

Peace to all of you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, At Least I Got SOMETHING Done

Yes. Yes. I do need to dust my dashboard display. Guess what? Not happening. Especially when the temperature is 97 degrees F. And actually, I may never need to clean that car again because my husband, aka The Car Guy, bought a new(ish) Prius today that he fell in love with and so we're keeping which means that my Prius which I would happily drive for the rest of my life, will be sold.
And I need to confess that I almost never (if ever) clean my car. I don't let trash accumulate in it or anything like that but I don't clean it in the traditional sense. I don't even know why Mr. Moon bothers to put me in newer cars. And it's stressful when he does! What if I bump into something? What if it gets scratched? What if...oh I don't know.
But it is a beautiful car, the new(ish) one. It's pearly white. My old one is red so that'll be a big difference. I'll probably not be able to find it in a parking lot for at least a year.

Goodness! It's been a big day around here. For one thing- I'm drinking my martini alone. Mr. Moon has taken off for the island where he has some repairs or something to do and is going to go fishing with some friends but in his own boat. He was so happy, getting ready to go. He asked me if I wanted to go with him but, eh- not this time. It is strange though, being alone after all these months of not being separated. I'll probably survive although I will miss him. He says he'll miss me but I think he's missed going fishing more.
I spent a good part of the morning and early afternoon busy as a little June Cleaver bumblebee. Can't you just see a bumblebee wearing a modest string of pearls around its neck and with an apron tied around her waist? I can. I cooked him some field peas and rice that he can heat up for a meal and I made more pimento cheese and also, because I am the BEST WIFE IN THE WORLD, cookies. Oatmeal, raisin, pecan, chocolate chip.
Fishing health food.
I also made six pints of bread and butter pickles.

That's what they looked like in their pickling syrup. I am a bit worried as I think the extra hours I left them in the refrigerator with salt on them probably made them far saltier than bread and butter pickles should be. As I told a friend- I shall just call them "stroke pickles."

Oh, sigh. 

Anyway, all of that took me quite awhile and of course there was the ritual washing of the bedding. And when all of it was done and Mr. Moon was loading up his truck and boat I left to go to Publix and Costco. Costco's parking lot was not very full but the lines were long. I did not buy one thing that was fun. Not a toaster oven or a new fan or a diamond necklace. Just batteries and Honey Nut Cheerios and lemons and limes and stuff like that. People were masked and a few were actually covered head to toe in various outfits, some involving camouflage. 

This IS the south, y'all. 

Then on to Publix where I had a moment of silence in the breakfast foods aisle, remembering my great blow-out last week. No one incurred my wrath today and so it was all fine. I was just sort of depressed and didn't buy anything fun there either. Not even a mango. But I did get to see Lily and she walked me and my groceries out to the car and we had a little chat and I kissed her back and patted her butt. 

My new way to love on my babies. And it's better than nothing. 

I let little Dearie out of the peep coop today to wander about with her mother. They left the coop entirely but right now I can see them by the door of the coop, mama and baby. It's probably stupid to do this because anything could snatch that child but I sort of have the attitude that even if Dearie's life should be cut way too short, she/he will have lived a free and fancy life, scratching in the grass and dirt for bugs and so forth, as chickens should do. And having only one bebe to keep safe, Dottie will protect her as best as a mother hen could. However, I think it is time for me to go interfere and chase them into the hen house. The sun is getting very low into the sky and it is about to be hawk-feeding time. 

I sure do hope that Jack comes to join me in bed tonight because otherwise, I truly will be lonely. I have been thinking a great deal about the intimacy of two people laying down to sleep together- and I do mean sleep. The deep trust and peace of it as we drift into and out of that intensely vulnerable, private, and somewhat magical country which borders both sleep and awareness. Somehow this seems to me to be even more of an intimate and trusting act than anything else we can do in bed. I could be wrong. 

As usual. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Space Cadettedness

I took two pictures today. One was of a realtor's sign that I pass on my walk on Whitehouse Road. I don't plan on moving but I've been curious as to what the house and property look like and how much they were asking. Basically, the place is a horse farm and I sure don't need one of those and they want about a million dollars for it and good luck to them!
Anyway, you didn't need to see a picture of a sign.
The other picture I took was a giant bag filled with...wait for it!...GREEN BEANS.
Y'all.
Oh, y'all.
Those beans are still coming in like crazy. My arms get tired of picking them. I'm not kidding. They really do. I have to keep switching the bowl I use to pick them in from one arm to another to give my picking arm a rest.
And no one needs to see another picture of a bag of green beans.

It's been another day of feeling completely inept and unproductive. I know that's not entirely true. I took three bags of trash to the trash depot. I walked. I picked those beans. I cut up cucumbers, onions, and peppers and salted them down to make bread and butter pickles. I talked to Lis on the phone. I did some laundry. And all of that should have taken about three hours, tops, but somehow it took all day long. And I kept doing things like filling up the washing machine, opening the panel where you put the soap and bleach and then just walking away. Unloading half of the dishwasher and thinking about something else I needed to do and abandoning the dishwasher.
I have the attention span of an eighteen-month old who needs a nap.
And I pulled a package of what I thought was a venison backstrap out of the freezer only to discover AFTER IT HAD THAWED that it was really stew meat.
None of these things are of world importance or even dangerous but it's just so annoying to keep wasting time like this.
No one would want ME to be president, I can guarantee that. Hell, I'd suck at being president of the local garden club but that's neither here nor there as there is no local gardening club as far as I know and also, I have a firm rule which I follow and that rule is to not join anything with the world "club" in it.
I got elected as treasurer of one of those service clubs in high school that I joined for some unknown reason and never attended one meeting of. How I got elected treasurer when I wasn't even there is beyond me but that only speaks to the ridiculousness of clubs as far as I'm concerned.

So. That's been my day. Wandering around and not getting things done. I did not touch August's dress but I did go looking for rick-rack and sequins. No sequins but I have rick-rack in three colors, only one of which has anything to do with the color of the print of his dress but it's such a pale pink that I might just go ahead and use the bright orange.
August wouldn't care.
I also found enough of the type of elastic I need to make about fifty masks. How did I miss that in my previous searches? It was right there in the sewing stuff.
Oh well. Life on earth continues to plod on no matter what I do.

Darla is still sitting on the nest. She's got a new egg which I'd bet fifty dollars that Susie laid. Poor little thing, sitting on that nest for a month now. I don't know what to do. I take her off of it and set her down but she just goes right back.
This can't be good.

I see that the Supreme Court ruled that Donald Trump is not immune from investigation and subpoena from Congress and state grand juries which is excellent but no one's going to see anything until after the election.

I sure hope he ends up in jail. Unless he dies first.

I sure wish I had a swimming pool. Or a river in my real, true backyard. Or a spring head. Of course Florida has now had a case of brain-eating amoeba so there's always that.

I sure hope we all survive the summer. Got to live long enough to vote in November.
Okay?
Okay.

Love...Ms. Moon