The Fruits Of My Labors

Forty-six years ago today at just about this time, I was holding this human being, albeit in newborn form, and my heart was cracking open and I was learning what love truly is. 
It is Hank's birthday. 
Oh my. I think back on that day (and the memories are still as sharp as they could possibly be) and I am dumbstruck at how young I was and how simply and purely I loved that child, how incredibly primal it was. I have told the story of his birth many times. I wanted to have him at home but it turns out that I am the slowest baby-haver in the world and after about 28 hours of labor I decided to go to the hospital and the trip there set everything in motion and within an hour of being there, he was born and it was ecstasy and then, as they did in those days, they took my child to the nursery. That separation was the main reason I wanted to have my baby at home because even at the age of 21, I knew that there was no way I would want to be more than a skin's thickness away from him. 

Sigh.
But. 
We defied all of the rules and regulations and signed all the papers about leaving against medical orders and my then-husband took us home which was about six blocks away, and we got into our bed and all was well. And all was as it should be. 
I was a mother and my child had made me one. 

I put my baby to my breast and we knew each other as if we had been together since eternity and perhaps we had been. 

And that child has continued to teach me his entire life about love in a way that no one else could have. Each of my children has come complete with his or her own set of instructions as surely as if they had been born with a manual in hand. But Hank- my first- was the one to teach me how all of that worked. He has taught me how so many things worked from writing, to the internet, to gender identity. 
I am sometimes a slow learner but my son is patient. And I have no doubt that he has so much more to teach me before I pass on back to that eternity from whence we all come. 

I am the luckiest mother in the world. 

My luck as a grandmother isn't so bad either. I had such a good day today. Somehow, last night, as I struggled to get to sleep after watching the first part of the special session testimony about the January 6, '20 capital uprising, I suddenly felt a wave of peace come over me and although I hate not being able to fall asleep, I recognized that it was a fine thing to be aware of this change of my heart and mind and to lay there in the dark next to my sweetheart and contemplate this. 
And I did. 

This morning when I woke up, Mr. Moon and Chip had already left for the Great Ferry Crossing Day and Lis was up and dressed and lovely. I went for my first cup of coffee and found a love note from my husband and the rest of the day has been pretty much like that. 
Lis had to leave, just as Lily pulled up with the kiddos and so she got to see them all and hug Lily whom she has known since she was about the same age Magnolia is now. I was glad to have that quick transitional moment because otherwise, I would have been so sad to see Lis go. She had to put up with me at a not-very-pleasant time and she sort of saved my life. 

I let the children direct me as to what our activities would be today. Maggie wanted a tea party with the mermaid tea set that May gave me so long ago. 
"Well," I said, "You'll have to wash it because I know it's dusty." The tea set sits on a shelf in the library in the "children's section" and I had not washed it in forever. 

Maggie loves to wash dishes, so this only added to the joy. 

She was wearing the flannel rooster nightgown I made for her a few years back, when she got here, so I concocted a dress for her out of a purple tank top. She loved it. Purple is her favorite color. She carefully washed the tea pot and plates and cups and sugar bowl and then she rinsed them. I made a pot of apple-cinnamon tea and set out four of the cookies I made last night and which I'd held back just for them. There were grapes too. I filled the sugar bowl and gave everyone a small napkin and a tiny silver spoon. The boys were so sweet and did not complain about being forced into such a situation. 

Of course, cookies were involved. 

I love that my grandchildren do not have pre-conceived notions about what is for boys and what is for girls. Nor do they feel the need to let their sister know that they think that tea parties are for babies, either. They are such grand, grandchildren. 

We were going to make slime but all of the recipes call for something with borax in it. Contact lens cleaner or certain laundry products. Owen and I researched all of this online and went through all of my household products but it would appear that I have no borax in my house. I promised to buy some lens cleaner on my next grocery run. They went with me to the dump- big Lloyd outing- and we stopped at the post office and they let me take their picture by the door which I've used as a back-drop since they were born. 

We had lunch and we played a game and although I kept suggesting that they give their old Mer a whole-body massage or at the very least, a foot rub, they didn't pick up the hint. 
Darn them. 

I was so full of energy and good mood until suddenly, while I was making them purple cows (because although it was not a spend-the-night, it was an occasion), I felt as if someone had flipped a switch and I felt some of the weight of the past few days come upon me but I was still in a very happy state of mind. This immediately reminded me of yesterday's (I think) "Pickles" comic. Here it is. 

Oh god. I am of the age where "Pickles" is my favorite daily comic. 
It's okay. It's my husband's favorite too. 

Lily came and got her babies midway through the afternoon. I had picked beans with Lis this morning and Maggie and I had collected eggs but I went out and found three cucumbers. Finally and at last. 

Will there be pickles in my future this year beyond green beans? 
Stay tuned. 

And speaking of tuned, Maggie has been playing my piano and although I know she has absolutely no knowledge of what she is playing, she somehow manages to create some extremely interesting and pleasing musical phrases. 

Children. They never cease to amaze me. 

Her talents also extend to jewelry making. Here's what she brought me today. 

I know her mama helped her but isn't it a rather beautiful necklace? 

She wanted to take home the Babar doll that Rachel gave me for the grandchildren and I told her that yes, she could, but to please remember to bring him back as all of her cousins might want to play with it. 
"I forgot to bring you back your telephone," she said. Of course I'd forgotten that she'd borrowed one of my Goodwill old-fashioned land-line phones. 

"That's okay," I said. "You can bring it back next time." 
"It's a little dirty," she told me. 
"Did you play with it outside?" I asked. 
"Well, I left it outside for a year," she said with all seriousness.
And I laughed and laughed. 

I need to go put my clean sheets on the bed and make myself a martini. Don't tell Mr. Moon but I am quite capable of doing that myself. 
Oh hell- let's be honest. He already knows. 

Happy Birthday, Hank. In so many ways I would not be here if not for you. I love you more than any words could say. But you know that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

As The World Turns

Isn't that a beautiful picture of Lis? We were on the back porch and Jack was doing what he does when Lis is here which is to seek her attention and love. He adores her. He had just kissed her and I tried to get a picture of that action but of course he wouldn't do it again, even though I asked him so politely, because of course cats do exactly understand what we're saying although they pretend not to because they are cats and do not want us to know of their powers. 
A minute later he had settled down on the table with his tail hooked around her arm to keep her close. 

She was all ready to go to her gig tonight which I am not attending because I just can't. She says she understands. She knows I'm having a rough patch here. And she also knows that I've got Owen and Gibson and Maggie coming tomorrow morning to hang out until the afternoon while their mama is at work. Of course I still feel guilty but sometimes one has to take care of oneself in the best way possible and although I logically know that if I went tonight and heard Lis singing her songs, the songs she's written, it would go a long way towards healing whatever is going on in me, I just cannot make the leap of getting there and knowing that I will be surrounded by...people. Even loving people, which they would be. 
But I told her she would be great, simply grand, and that she would be the best songwriter of all and every bit of that is the truth. 

She and I went to Costco today and then we had a lovely lunch at a seafood restaurant that is virtually in the parking lot of Costco but it's a local joint so I don't feel so bad about eating there. 
I actually ended up taking some ashwagandha and L-theanine this morning because whatever it is I'm going through feels a lot like anxiety and I have to say they helped. And of course Lis just being here helps. 

The men are back from their first part of this weekend's adventure. They drove down all the materials that need to go on the ferry and left them at the house of a friend of Mr. Moon's. Tomorrow they will go back down to the coast with Glen's boat and begin the process of getting everything to the house and unloaded which is what the rest of the weekend will be about. Chip is spending the night so that they can get up early and be at the dock to unload the trucks on to the ferry. 
Jesus. What a process. 
Anyway, I've made spaghetti sauce for their supper so there is that. 

Okay. Tomato pie. I have to tell you that the pie I made yesterday was the absolute best tomato pie I've ever made. And we will discuss it. I am never loathe to share a recipe but the problem is that I usually don't follow one exactly. I read a bunch of them and then sort of fit my own tastes and ingredients and experience into whatever I'm making. Or baking. I will say right now that I think the things that made the pie so good last night were the fresh basil and parmesan cheese. And who knows what else? 

And speaking of baking, my husband has just reminded me that I promised to make cookies for them to take to the island. 
Oh hell. 
Well. 
I better go attend to kitchen matters. As always. 

Here's a picture of Levon that Jessie sent today. 

Heaven. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Season Of Sweat Is Upon Us

This is what Violet and Pansy looked like last night when I went to shut them up. Violet has always roosted on a ledge rather than in a nest at night and she is teaching her baby to do the same. She has her wings spread like that because of the heat. And Lord, it is hot. 
Here's what Darla and her darlings looked like. 

They are all getting so big. I wonder if they'll all continue to sleep together when the children are grown. It's a definite sign of maturing when the chicks can make it to a ledge or a nest to roost, rather than on the ground of the hen house. And so much safer for the babies. 

It's been another hellishly hot day with no rain in sight. I managed a shortish walk this morning without dying and then I did too much outside. I sometimes wonder if I'm trying to kill myself. It's just that there's always so much to do and it nags at me and nags at me until I do it. Of course it's never done so this is ridiculous behavior. Sometimes I think, Well, I'm getting older and trying to do all of these things is perhaps more than I should be doing and then I think of those women who run marathons at eighty and old grannies who keep a huge garden up into their nineties and I feel like a wussie. 
This is yet another problem with our world in which we can access information about people all over it, not just in the village where we live with a hundred or so other people. In a village of that size it is quite possible to be the best at something, whether it's growing the biggest cabbages or baking the lightest bread or telling the funniest stories or singing the prettiest songs or sewing the warmest quilts or being the best at herbal remedies. Post a picture today on FB of YOUR pickles and someone else is going to post a picture of theirs which make yours look like shriveled, pale sea-creatures captured in a jar. Open a catalog and see a woman of eighty-two who is still absolutely stunning and making a very fine living as a model. It never ends. And as much as I'd like to think that I do not compare myself to others, I am as human as the next person and so of course I do! I don't care as much these days, but don't we all measure ourselves and what we do by the accomplishments of others? 
How I wish we did not. 

Well. I suppose you can tell that my mood is still somewhat...impaired. But Lis is coming in soon and I am cooking the very last pot of last year's field peas and I have been working a little bit at a time all day on a tomato pie. I've made the pastry and have roasted a few tomatoes and have others draining on dish cloths and I've grated cheese and sauteed some onions. It's all ready to put together. It's a tradition for us to have tomato pie together in the summer. We started it in Asheville when we used to go up there to see Jessie and for Lis to go to the Swannanoa Gathering when the farmer's markets were bursting with the most gorgeous heirloom tomatoes. Oh, what beautiful trips those were! Tomato pies are sinful. They are an excellent example of how you can take one of the most perfect and delicious foods on earth and turn it into something that will give you a heart attack as quickly as a pound of bacon. Some people actually PUT bacon into their tomato pies but I do not go that far. As I told a friend the other day, one should only make and eat one tomato pie a year when the tomatoes are ready and ripe and bountiful. There is no excuse for it otherwise. 

Tomorrow the televised hearings covering the January 6 Capital riots of 2020 will start and I hope to watch as much as I can. 

Mr. Moon and Chip will be on the first leg of their journey to Dog Island to take supplies over there for the new flooring as well as a new washer and dryer and then they will come back here tomorrow evening, sleep and get up early to meet the ferry taking everything over. I have to tell you that I am not happy about the idea of those two men working in this heat, dragging things up and down the stairs of the house which is built on pilings to prevent flooding during hurricanes. I would not call them old men but they cannot be called boys anymore either. At least the house has air conditioning and they have promised to take lots of breaks. 
I do not believe them. 

Off to go build a pie which is the only construction work I'm interested in doing. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Not Titling This Crap

 I swear- there is something wrong with me. I have become so incredibly on edge lately. Yesterday's debit card debacle was just one example of how I am not handling myself well. The level of tolerance I have for anything and everything has become lower and lower. I am snappy and cranky and churlish. Yes. Churlish. The least little thing can set me off and I want to scream and I often tear up when tears really are not called for. 
This is not only not acceptable behavior, it does not feel good. 

I ran a load of clothes today with no problem and then tried to do a load of whites. Somehow, something got pushed that shouldn't have and suddenly I was unable to choose a function on the machine or start it. I was getting a little orange icon that flashed, along with the letters CL. 
WTF? I mean, really. 
I finally got my husband's attention in between phone calls and he started pushing things and unplugging and closing and unclosing the same way I had just done and that made me want to shriek. 
"I've already done all that!" 
"You need the instruction manual," he said, quite reasonably, "to see what this means." 
"I can't find it!" 
So then we both started looking up shit online and he figured out that I'd somehow activated the child lock and according to Those Who Know, you simply had to hold the child lock thingee for three seconds but where was that? What was that? It was NOT the orange flashing image which, it turned out, was indeed a lock as depicted by an alien. I finally discovered where it was via an online help page and yes, within three seconds, all was clear and I was able to perform the holy task of bleaching shit again. 
But I didn't handle it well. 

I hung the clothes on the line and of course I got bitten by another yellow fly. Since I was having such a great day I decided that I would finally get two things in the mail that I have been putting off because I have some sort of weird mail neurosis. I remember a boyfriend I once had who was unusual in some ways, not least of which was that he made his living selling drugs, who had a huge struggle with mailing things. Even things like a letter to his parents who thought he sent them to Europe on the money he made working at a sporting goods store. I thought he was nuts. Okay, he was. BUT- I couldn't understand his weirdness about postal service. 
Now I do. 
So anyway, I got what I needed to pack up packed up. I got the other thing I needed to mail ready. I went to the post office. I mailed them. And I should feel so relieved but I don't. 

Here's what I did the rest of the day in pictures:

And even though every lid has sealed with a reassuring pop, I do not feel my usual sense of satisfaction. I'm just worried that there's too much salt in the brine and not enough sugar. 

Eh, it's all probably just some sort of Mercury-in-retrograde-summer-heat-yellow-fly-toxin-doing-too-much-shit situation. 
It is whatever it is in this case and I'll just ride it and try to calm down. A trip to the river is obviously in order but I don't see where in the schedule of the next few days that'll fit in. We shall see. 

Meanwhile, I'm off to scratch the yellow fly bites I got taking IN the clothes which have made my foot swell like a puff adder, and make supper. 

I'm sorry for all the whining and whinging. I absolutely know that I am beyond fortunate in all regards and that there is nothing I am going through that is in the least bit truly painful.
Which only makes me feel guilty and more like crying. 

On the other hand, I could watch this all day. 

If you invent it, you can do it as long as you want to. 

Oh hell. Jack just puked on the floor. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown

And there they are- the mountain kids. Jessie said that they are already back to being a pack of wild dogs. In that picture, they were trying to sneak up on a groundhog. Isn't that the most beautiful place? The Great Smokey Mountains. And I hear it's cool. Like you-can-cuddle-cool. 
Meanwhile, this is the season in Florida to wonder why the hell we live here. 

I had a small breakdown today. I took a walk and that was bit of hell but I survived it. I got a package in the mail with two pairs of short overalls I'd ordered from Duluth Trading Company. I've always admired their overalls but they're really expensive so when these went on sale for half price I threw caution to the winds. As I told Jessie in a text, they are butt-ugly on me but they are comfortable, practical, and very well made. I am pleased. 
I also got my new debit card in the mail. It had expired at the end of May and the credit union we go to has merged with another credit union and they were actually closed for a few days to make the transition and have been swamped since the change-over and so I've put off actually dealing with the debit card issue for about a week. I was convinced that it wasn't going to show up at all so was very pleased when it did. I thought it would save me from making a trip to town to get a new one.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
I merrily called the activation number, as one does. The first call I made had such a bad connection that I could not possibly understand the person on the other end. So I hung up and called again. This time I got through the exercise in card activation up to the point where a real person had to verify my identity. I was to receive a text with my code on it. Unfortunately, the phone number they had on file for me is my landline WHICH YOU CANNOT SEND A TEXT TO! 
Duh.
The guy told me that he could not change my number and that I had to go to the credit union and get it activated there and have my number changed to my cell phone. He could not do that.
Are you with me? 
So. I take a shower and get dressed and drive to town and go to the credit union where one man is practically cussing out one of the ladies trying to help him and there are people waiting in line. After about twenty minutes of that, I got to talk to a woman who could indeed change the phone number on file for me but she could not activate my card despite what the man on the phone had said. I needed to call back the activation number. By this time, it was pouring rain so I ran to my car and not having been born yesterday, I called the number while still in the parking lot. I got another person who told me that my new number must not be in the system yet but no worries- I could verify by giving him the last four digits of my SSN. 
Okay. 
But no. 
I could not. Because they didn't HAVE my SSN on file. They had my husband's. Despite the fact that we have been married for thirty-seven years, I do not know that number. So. I called Mr. Moon, practically in tears. He used to have an office in that credit union from which he sold cars. 
"Talk to Rebecca," he said. "She will help you."
But, but, but...I wanted to do this by myself. Like a big girl. You know? I got his last four digits and called the activation line AGAIN. By this time, they had kicked me out of the system and I could not get through.
Big girl was crying at this point. I was so frustrated. 
I dried my eyes and ran back through the rain into the CU where more people were waiting. Rebecca has an office but I wasn't sure which one so I had to wait to ask. 
Which I did.
And when I finally got to that dear, wonderful woman, she figured it out and I am activated. I truly did well up with tears when I thanked her. 
I am BONE FIDE again! 

And that shit wore my ass out. 

Luckily, supper will be a breeze tonight. I made a very fine pot roast last night with potatoes, carrots, green beans, and onions from the garden. Tonight it will take a new form as vegetable soup with a few added peas, baby limas, and corn. I made up the dough for a loaf of sourdough last night and it is about ready to go into the oven and the soup is simmering. 
What more could anyone ask for? 

Here's a picture of Darla's three children taking a dirt bath. It's a terrible picture because they were lying in a band of shade and if I'd gotten any closer, they would have moved.

But you can sort of get the idea. They spread their feathers out and use their wings to scoop the dirt like we would splash in the water. There's a nice little article about that practice HERE if you have any interest. It is one of a chicken's true requirements and I feel so sorry for the birds in captivity who are not given the opportunity to enjoy that particular activity. The other day when it had rained, some of the chickens were on the kitchen porch and Mr. Moon and I watched as Liberace fluffed out his neck feathers to dry them and then began preening. He is such a handsome bird with his shining golden feathers. They actually gleam in the sunlight as if they had been oiled. 

I swear to you- tomorrow I am not leaving Lloyd unless Keith Richards invites me to join the band family in Liverpool next Thursday in which case I'll have to catch a plane. 
Here's a great Billboard article about how the Munich gig went last night. 

Oh, those old boys. Still, according to Billboard, delivering real magic.

Love...Ms. Moon

Time: Slow The Fuck Down, Please

 It is raining and when Mr. Moon pointed this out to me, I gave out a heartfelt Thank you, Jesus! Despite my disbelief in magical supreme beings of all descriptions, sometimes a good thank-you-Jesus is just the best and most appropriate response. If you live in the deep south, anyway. 

If I got a thousand things done yesterday, I feel like today I was just as busy and only got about two things done. 
Sigh. 
One of those days. 

We usually have a big breakfast on Sundays that includes biscuits and potatoes with peppers and onions and all that good stuff but this morning a friend was scheduled to come over to work with Glen on the deck at ten a.m. so I decided that we didn't need to go through that whole routine. This is a friend of ours from the old, old days. In fact, he and his then-wife introduced us to Lon and Lis so there you go. He's a sweet, sweet man, smart and funny, too and I always love seeing him. That deck is coming along. I am quite pleased. 

Next weekend this same friend is going to go out to Dog Island with Glen and they're going to start working on tearing out the shag carpet and replacing the flooring over there. This requires detailed lists of all the things they'll need because you can't stop and drive to Lowe's if you've forgotten something. It will also require a ferry boat to haul everything over there which must be scheduled in advance. 
I have to tell you that since my husband has retired, he has been busting his ass. He just doesn't stop. I am rather in awe of him to tell you the truth. 

So anyway, while the men were working on the deck I tried to deal with the garlic that Mr. Moon pulled up this morning. I braided the stems together to create bunches but the string I tried to hang them on wasn't strong enough and snapped which I should have realized it would do. I then just laid them out on newspapers on the porch with fans on them for now. I'll let them dry some before I try to hang them again. So that felt like a failure. 

I washed a few clothes which I have not yet even taken out of the dryer. I made us some amazing BLT's for lunch with the most beautiful and delicious tomato I've eaten in a long time. Also, it was huge. One tomato easily made five smallish sandwiches. Then I decided to get to a chore I've been putting off which I thought would be so quick and so easy and hahaha on that. 
Although it seems like we just moved bedrooms a few days ago, it's been awhile in reality and the furniture needed a good dusting and polishing. Or at least a generous swiping with the Pledge. Lemon scented, of course. So I began that and next thing I knew I was moving furniture around in order to get my vanity off the air conditioning vent which exposed a lot more dust on the floor and so sweeping was in order and also mirror cleaning. I moved on to Mr. Moon's bathroom which has an antique vanity in it which he fit out for the sink to go in and it has all sorts of curves that collect dust so I Pledged my love to all of that and cleaned the faux marble the counter is made of and the sink too. This made him so happy. I do not know why. It wasn't that bad. 

And honestly, that's about all I've done today. No gardening, no going to town, no yard work, no marathon laundry on the line, no bread-making or pie-baking or any of that. So I guess it's been restful although it doesn't really seem like it. 

The best news of the day is that Jessie and Vergil and the kids made it up to Black Mountain safely and happily. Hurray! I know they must be so relieved to finally be there after all the planning and preparation and stress that involves. Getting the RV up to where it lives for the summer is an accomplishment all its own. As Mr. Moon says about the roads up there- they're so skinny and curvy you can see your own tail lights when you're driving them. But my heart is happy, knowing they're there and I can just imagine the cousins all being wild with joy to see each other again as they pick up where they left off last summer in their friendships, games, and general delight. I'm sure it's a beautiful reunion for all concerned. 

And here we are, another Sunday almost gone. 
How quickly time passes these days. Because the kids came for pancakes on Friday, I felt that it was Sunday all day and yesterday every time I realized it was only Saturday, I was shocked. Today, a Sunday, feels like the eraser on a pencil- definitely a part of the whole but not really. 

Time for me to go snap some beans. Has it really been a year since we ate fresh green beans? That I had the canning kettle out for days at a time, making dilly beans and salsa and pepper jam and chili sauce? 

I guess it was. 
Phew.

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Going To Rest Tomorrow. Honestly

Remember last weekend when I picked my first four eating-sized green beans? Well, here you have today's harvest. It filled a gallon zip-lock bag. And inbetween today and last weekend there were more than enough to add to the chicken and dumplings. 
Rattlesnake beans for the win again!

What a day. I am so tired. I thought that I might kick-back today, take it easy but my grocery list had grown so long that I was having to use the back side of the index card and also I wanted to return the blender device that I'd bought last Monday. I bought one with way too many features and functions for my needs and purposes and it was insane. So with Owen's help I packed everything back up in the box which was  approximately five hundred parts, and I was itching to trade it in on a plain old blender. I'm still thinking I'm going to find my old blender base which will be fine because then I'll have a spare. 
But before I went to town I did a few loads of laundry, hung everything on the lines, picked the produce you see above, put clean sheets on the guest room bed in preparation for Lis's visit, and cleaned a toilet. 
Pro Tip: A toilet that is used by five grandchildren over the course of a day is going to need cleaning. Badly.

I also checked out my fig tree which I hadn't even bothered doing for weeks because no matter how promising it looks in late spring, by the time it's ripe fig season, all of the fruit on that tree will mysteriously have disappeared, whether to birds or squirrels or drought or whatever, I do not know. However, this year I have a small kernel of hope within me. There is SO much fruit on the tree. 

I am hoping that since the huge piece of the old oak tree behind it fell that it is getting enough light to bring those figs into fruition. We shall see. There is very little more delicious than fig and lemon preserves. If I could only get a few small jars of them I would be happy. 

So after all of that I got dressed in my shopping-appropriate clothing and went to Costco where I stood in line to return my many-purposes blending device. The woman behind the counter asked if I had ever used it. No, I had not, I assured her. She then went through the entire box and could not find one piece that had been shown on the front of the box but which mysteriously had not been part of the contents. I showed her in the instruction pamphlet that it was not one of the parts listened. She accepted that official illustration as proof. I got a gift card to Costco for the amount I'd paid for the thing and in the course of the next fifteen minutes I'd acquired enough stuff in my basket to have to pay them more money than the gift card covered. This was no surprise. I purchased a different blender which was JUST a blender along with some food items. After I checked out I had to go and have a short chat with the man who is almost always in the liquor store whom I enjoy talking to so very much. I was told last week that he will be retiring in January which sort of devastated me. Talking to Kevin every week or so is about fifty percent of my social life. He is just the nicest guy and we have had some very, very interesting conversations over the years. Everyone loves Kevin. He makes every customer feel special. He really does. He told me today that he's just ready to live his life without the constraints of a work schedule. He's got social security (I did not think he was old enough but he is) and a pension from another job and he's good to go. He is READY to go. I told him I understood but that a whole lot of people were not going to be happy to hear about this. 
Well, so it goes. 

Then on to the library where I shamelessly eavesdropped again, this time first on a group of about half a dozen women who made a circle in the new fiction area and prayed. They assured their god that they adored and trusted him and loved his son. Repeatedly. This was a library first for me. THEN, I listened to a conversation about genealogy that three women were having. I am starting to get a little bit interested in that topic myself so this was more research than nosyness. 

Sure.

And then on to Publix! I swear, everything I wanted was on a shelf that had at least one or two people already standing in front of. I grew a bit testy. But every item on my list was finally crossed off and I checked out. 

Drove home, hauled in the groceries, put everything away, got everything off the line, folded it all, put it away, made up our bed with the clean sheets. And now here we are. 

Mr. Moon is at some sort of celebratory gathering that I was invited to but I don't know the people involved and besides that, I just don't do things like that anymore. "Tell them I suffer from social anxiety," I tell him when these things arise. It's true. Plus, the laundry wasn't going to get folded and put away by itself, was it? 

Jessie and Vergil and August and Levon are on the road. Vergil's in his truck with August, hauling the RV that will be their home for two months, and Jessie's in her car with Levon. May they have safe travels. My heart is traveling with them. 

Oh. Here's a picture of Violet and Pansy. 

The bebes are growing up so fast. Look at that little comb. 

Anyway, love from Lloyd. 

Ms. Moon

 

A Whole Lotta Love

It's so funny to me that the table we crammed seven people around this morning is the same table I bought with my first husband in Thomasville, Georgia in about 1979 and which has been with me ever since. It is the table on which my beloved friends from nursing school and I studied in the early eighties. For awhile, in a house that we lived in when all the children were at home, that table sat out in a sunroom because it got too crowded for all of us and the extras that seemed to constantly find their way to our meals. The table we bought for that dining room is the one I'm now using on the back porch and most of my posts come from my MacBook which is perched on it and the round table, the oak table, is back in our dining room and at service again.
Another funny thing to consider is that when Mr. Moon asked me to dance with him at a bar in Tallahassee the night after Thanksgiving, 1983, I never once had any premonition that thirty-nine years later the table that my friends and children and I ate on and studied on and played games on would be filled with grandchildren although I did have a feeling in my very bones after the second time I saw him that he was going to ask me to marry him. And seven months later, he did.

I wonder how many pancakes I've served on that table now. 
A lot. A heck of a lot. 

The boys were so good last night. They slept in the big bed in the guest room instead of the fold-up beds laid out on the floor of our room which was truly a big boy thing to do. We read three of our favorite books including The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza, of course. I scratched Levon's back for a little while until he was just about asleep and then scratched August's. I switched over to sort of gently scratching his head for awhile and he got so relaxed. And then he said something to me that about made me cry. It seemed to come out of nowhere. 
"When I was little, I used to feel like I could fly," he said. 
"Oh, August, that's so beautiful and wonderful!" I told him. 
And then he fell asleep too.
I hope I never forget that. 

This morning came bright and early when Lily brought her three over and the pancake making began. After that, the action never stopped. They ran all over and around outside this house playing hide-n-seek and they helped Boppy hook the trailer to the 4-wheeler and all rode to the dump in that trailer. Owen assured me he would hold all of the children tight. There is a grill around the trailer and although my grandmother heart wasn't fully into the idea, I figured the block and a half they would be traversing would be okay. And it was. 

Owen and his grandfather did what they had told me they'd do which was to put the heavy plants back on the porch which was a lot of work. That made me so happy. 

My porch jungle has been restored! 

The kids and I all played a game of Yahtzee together. Levon and August were on Owen's team, Gibson was on his own team, and Maggie rolled the dice for the lady team. 

Owen is so good and so kind to the younger children. And so helpful. He's just the sweetest boy. 
Before too long, the game sort of segued into a drawing session. 

Owen and I continued on with the game and he whipped my ass. I thought I had him when I got a Yahtzee but then his faithful teammate, August, rolled one too. 
Dang. 

Lunch was leftovers and then there was more playing and then the mamas showed up to pick up babies. What a day! 
Saying good-bye to Jessie and the boys was hard because I won't see them for over a month as they are heading out tomorrow for North Carolina. August and Levon are so excited. And I am excited for them. I can't imagine anything better for that little family than to go spend summer on the mountain with Vergil's family. The mountain family. 
Ah, sigh. 

We'll be leaving to go visit before you know it. But it is always so emotional for me to hug them good-bye when they leave. 

Since everyone took off to go home, I've gotten the house mostly tidy again and swept a lot of rooms. The kitchen has been trashed and cleaned up twice today already and thank god for the dishwasher. 

I found this little scene on my back porch. 

Oh, Magnolia June! She had asked me if she could play with Zippy and I told her she could. "Has he been good?" she asked me.

"Oh yes," I told her. "Zippy is always good." Then I thought about it a second and said, "Well, he is a little mischievous sometimes," which I am sure he would be if he were a real chimpanzee. 

So. Friday night and all is peaceful and quiet again where just a few hours ago there were screaming, laughing children running about, slamming doors, forgetting to close doors, me yelling, "You're letting out all the cold air!", closets and showers being hidden in, kids asking me repeatedly if I'd seen whoever was "it" and also, "Where is Boppy?" (Possibly hiding.) There was also piano playing and composing. Maggie played some lovely "ballet" songs (as she told me) and later she asked if listening to them had made me cry. 
She is so dramatic. I love it. 
I told her that the songs had been very sweet but no, I had not cried. I should probably have lied. 

I'm having my first sip of a Friday martini and all is calm in my back yard where the birds are coming in to the feeder and the chickens are eating the seeds on the ground that the birds kick off. It is quiet and we will sleep well tonight even though once again, I did not get around to washing sheets. 
Tomorrow. 

While we were getting the porch in order, Mr. Moon said that he'd clean my silver gazing globe for me but Owen offered to do it instead. Levon, who has a huge big-cousin crush on his oldest cousin, wanted to hold it for Owen and he did. 

My beautiful babies. 

I wish they all could feel like they could fly forever. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Precious People And A New Name For The FDG Based On New Information

Now there you have three good-looking boys if you ask me. Levon is trying out a new smile, I think. They are helping their Boppy with the model car. Some of you may recall that this project has been going on for some years now. 

Oh wait. That was ten minutes ago. Now they appear to have set the burn pile on fire. I can't keep track of what those fellas are doing. 

I need to get supper fixed so this won't be long. I've got chicken and garlic simmering to make the requisite chicken and dumplings. August helped me snap the beans that I've gathered in the garden the last few days and I have carrots I pulled to peel and cut up and all of those, with some celery and an onion will be added to the broth. A meal in a bowl. 

I got some news that really upset me about an hour ago. The FDG which henceforth shall be called the GDFDG is not going to carry fresh produce but instead, only the crappy canned goods and off-brand chips and crap that they all sell along with household crap. How they think they can make any money off of the people in Lloyd as customers is a mystery to me. There's more concerning the septic system and so forth but I don't have time for that now. The main point here is that the one and only reason I did not think that having that eyesore built there was the absolute worst thing that could happen in Lloyd is that I thought it would be of use to the residents here who cannot get to Tallahassee or Monticello to buy food. 
They can already get beany-weenies and Vienna sausages and Doritos at the store by the interstate. I do imagine that they will be cheaper at the GDFDG, though. 

So it goes. 
More tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

The American Dream

I was so exhausted yesterday in all ways and came as close to canceling out on going to supper in Monticello as I could be. And then, as if it were encouraging my decision, the wind suddenly began whirling branches about, whipping even the strong and sturdy magnolia tree and I thought- oh well, we need to stay home and be safe.  
But Mr. Moon was in a mood and of a mind to go out. He reminded me- no cooking, no dishes, plus he wanted to give Lon a bottle of bourbon. As the weather got weirder and weirder, we decided to make a drink and sit on the front porch and watch it for a few minutes to see what it was going to do. 
So we did. 
We were rocking and talking and the wind was still gusty but it didn't look like it was going to rain when all of a sudden, a lighting bolt and giant clap of thunder occurred at the same time, so close that for a second we weren't quite sure we were still alive. 
Of course we were, but it was enough to get my adrenaline screaming and as suddenly as the weather had come, it went. 
"Okay," I said. "I'll go get dressed."
The Mexican restaurant in Monticello has been there for years. Many years. It's been housed in an old wood-frame building, nothing special at all but it's definitely the longest-running eating establishment in town. The joke of course is that it's the best Mexican restaurant in town because it's the only Mexican restaurant in town but it's always had decent food. Of course they'd tried to fancy it up a little with Tex Mex decor here and there on the walls but at heart, it was a very plain and simple dining area and I'm sure the kitchen had its own funky problems as old kitchens will. 
Several years ago, the owners of the restaurant began to build a new building across the street from Rancho Grande. It went up slowly and reminded me of how they build houses sometimes in Cozumel in the 'hood which is basically, every paycheck that comes in buys something needed for the construction like a few cement blocks or a pane of glass and it may take years and years to build a simple concrete and rebar home. But this building looked to be far grander than anything as simple as that and certainly far grander than the original restaurant. A floor appeared, then walls, doors, windows...
Slowly, the work was done. 

And miraculously, it opened last year during the time of covid. I had not been to the new place until last night, although I'd driven by it and when we walked in, I was astounded. 

I took that picture as we were leaving because when we got there around 7:45 on a Tuesday night in Monticello, Florida, every seat was filled. 
Every seat. 
We found Lon and Lis who had somehow gotten a booth and already had chips and salsa and refried black bean dip in front of them. Lis had a margarita. It was all so beautiful. Every table had artwork on it. Every chair too. Pictures on the walls, Talavera tile in abundance (and that stuff is not cheap), just the prettiest and definitely most colorful restaurant you can imagine. We all ended up with margaritas and our server was amazing. I wanted to adopt her and bring her home. She entertained us all evening. And she hustled. The menu was vast, our food came out far more quickly than I thought it would, it was so reasonably priced, and it was delicious. Here's what Mr. Moon had.

I was blown away. 

And then I went into the ladies' room. The floor was a work of art.

Whoever laid that stone mosaic was an artist and a master craftsman. I was completely taken aback. The sink area wasn't bad either. 

More Talavera. I can't tell you how impressed I am at the work and love and perseverance and hope that this new restaurant represents. And all of it from people who came to this tiny piece of the United States and somehow, with so much strength and determination, have created such a welcoming and terrific place for people to gather and eat good food.

I wish them all the luck in the world. If this is not a perfect representation of the American dream, I do not know what is.

After supper we stood around outside a bit and talked some as the sky gathered itself into darkness. It has been such a good visit with those two precious people from Gator Bone. How I hated to tell them good-bye! How grateful I was that I had not missed out on the opportunity to enjoy that one last meal with them before they left for home. Lis will be back soon as she is playing at a song-writing event in Tallahassee and will spend two nights with us so my heart was not entirely broken. What a beautiful evening. 

And today has been a beautiful day. I have relaxed and breathed and looked at the sky and the cypress trees. 

I have rested my eyes on the water and spent time with my Lily and Owen and Gibson and Magnolia June. 

I have baptized myself in the icy, holy water of the Wacissa three times and I feel as reborn as a woman my age can feel. I brought my newly cooled and blessed skin home to my husband and I am cooking some of last year's field peas because soon we will be eating this year's field peas. 

This post is long. Forgive me. Tomorrow's, I promise, will be much, much shorter. Also, please forgive the totally messed up format of this post. Blogger is just being ridiculous and no one has time to try and figure this shit out. At least I don't.  

Love...Ms. Moon