A Nap Was Not Involved

Well, as St. John Lennon said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."
Just as I was girding my big girl panties (which reminds me of a bit of a dream I snatched last night where my grandfather showed up to give me a brown grocery bag filled with my grandmother's panties which were incredibly white and I said, "Well, talk about Granny Panties...") to go to town to do my errands, Lily called me. She had a new place on her leg that was swollen and red and hurt like hell.
I changed my clothes and drove to town and Jessie came to watch the boys and I drove Lily to the new satellite ER north of town which has a reputation of being chi-chi and not very busy and we checked in and sure enough, within a few moments we were in a room, having already been triaged by a very nice nurse who told us her birth story and then we were dealt with by other very nice people including a nurse tech, a nurse assistant, a nurse practitioner and a doctor. Okay, it took four hours but we had our own room with a TV and everything.
Lily has a blood pressure issue which is that her BP mirrors her anxiety more completely than anyone's I've ever heard of and it was high when we went in. And this could be a very, very long story but the bottom line is that they decided that since her BP was high, she needed fluids which made no sense to me whatsoever. Yes, dehydration can lead to a high pulse rate (which she had also had upon admitting) but Lily was NOT dehydrated. Not one bit. She hadn't had diarrhea or urinary problems and she drank about sixteen ounces of water just on our way to the ER. And I questioned them and so they didn't give her fluids which is what they WANTED to do and the NP sort of shamed us about that. I called Jessie to ask if I was crazy. She told me I was not.
Meanwhile, they did another ultrasound of her leg and it turns out that she has phlebitis which is painful but not deadly. Regular treatment would be aspirin but since she's pregnant, she can't take it. And the blood work showed up to be perfect. Kidney function, liver function, etc.
The doctor came in and told us about all of this and he told Lily that really, he'd like to see her take a week off of work because standing (which is what she does in her job) is the worst thing she can do and she's already wearing compression hose. When he told her that, that she had to take time off of work, she got even more stressed out and her BP went up a bit more and the NP shamed us about not accepting the fluids and went to talk to the doctor.
At which point, they took Lily's blood pressure again and it had come down to the normal range and they gave her some grape juice and a little pain med and sent us home with a prescription for another antibiotic even though her blood work showed NO elevation in white blood cells which would indicate infection and told her to rest and to walk.
It was funny- every one we dealt with was so personable and caring and lovely but still, the ghost of covering-our-asses overshadowed everything.
Did Lily need fluids?
No.
Does she need a stronger antibiotic even though the doctor himself said that he didn't think she has an infection?
Probably not.
But Lily got it filled and when I dropped her off at home she was talking to her midwife who, I am sure, gave her the advice she needed.

And so that's what my day was like. Being with my "child" as Owen says in relation to his mother and me.
And I was so glad to be able to do it although I am sure that at some points, Lily would have rather just done what they said and not have to deal with a mother who was a nurse.

And.

The ultra-sound tech did a quick check of Lily's baby. It was such a surprise- to suddenly see this newest one- and his or her heart was beating and there we were, seeing that. I saw a head and limbs. I saw life.

I would not have missed that for the world.

Good Lord. I need to go prepare some vegetables for our supper.

Love...Ms. Moon

Sleepovers Which Do Not Necessarily Involve Sleep

Let me just say that the boys are incredibly cheerful in the morning. This makes sense with Owen because he sleeps like a rock. I read a bunch of stories last night to them and Gibson fell asleep before we were done but Owen was still awake and wanted the Mr. Peep story and so I told it to him and he fell asleep during that and that was the last we heard from him all night.
Gibson, on the other hand, woke up before I had a chance to fall asleep. He was itching. And crying. Okay.
I brought him to my bed. Boppy laid down and we all tried to sleep.
HahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaHA!
That boy. When he isn't kicking or thrashing, he's talking.
"Mer?"
"Right here, baby."
"I need you."
"I'm right here."
"I need you hold me."
"Okay."
"Mer?"
"Right here baby."
"Where Owen?"
"He's in the other bed."
"I want see him!"
"No baby, it's time to sleep. He's asleep."

Boppy finally gave up and went and got in bed with Owen.

"Mer?"
"Right here, baby."
"Where Boppy?"
"He's in bed with Owen."
"In Mer's bed?"
And since I was half awake I said, "Yes."
This lead to hours of him wanting to go to Mer's bed despite the fact that we were in Mer's bed. I finally had to turn on the light and show him."

"Mer?"
"What baby?"
"I need my water. Where my water?"
"I don't know, baby. It's time to sleep."
"I need my water!"
"Okay, I'll find it. Hold on."
"Mer?"
"Right here baby."
I need you hold me."
Finally about six thirty he looked out the window.
"Mer! It time get up! Look!"
"No, baby. It's not all the way light yet. Time to sleep more."
"Mer!"
"Right here, baby."
"I need you hold me."

Oh Lord.

And when it WAS time to get up, he was thrilled. Positively completely thrilled to start a new day and of course his grandfather and I were not. To say the least.
I finally had to wake The Rock up.
"Time to get up, sweetie," I told him, kissing his head.
"Time to eat pancakes!"
"No. We're not having pancakes. Cinnamon Toast Crunch."
"Yay!" (Cinnamon Toast Crunch is his current favorite food.) "And I can do the turkey call!"
"Yes. Yes you can."
"I had the weirdest dream, Mer!"
"Really?"
"Yes. First off, I was in Gibson's brain, then Boppy's brain, then Maurice's brain, then Luna's brain, then Nicey's brain, then YOUR brain."
"Wow! And did you see everything from all of those brains?"
"Yes!"
And then on to the turkey call and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the joy of life.

Last night Mr. Moon showed Owen how to use a turkey call. He held that thought in his head all night long. He is thrilled because his Boppy gave him the turkey call thing. He scared me to death with it this morning because it's a device you put into your mouth and he called me and when I went to him, he stood there making a sound which could have been (especially for one who is completely sleep-deprived) confused with the sound someone makes when they have perhaps inadvertently swallowed a turkey call device. And was choking on it.

"OWEN! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?????"

"I'm fine. That's how I call you with the turkey call."

"Okay. Whoa."

Breakfasts were eaten, clothes were put on, toys and books were packed, chickens were let out and fed scratch. Car seat transferred, boys buckled in, hugs and kisses given.
"I love you! I love you!" echoed back and forth as Boppy pulled out of the driveway.

Quiet.
Quiet.

Sigh.

I have to go to town today.
I have to take a nap today.

My god I feel old.

This Is All Any Of Us Want

Maybe in different forms but still.
Love and safety and play and vegetables and protein and shelter and glory be if you can throw in a big box of crayons, most of which still have their points.
Why is it so damn hard?
I don't have the slightest idea.

I Don't Even Know What To Say

Mick Jagger in Lloyd.
Just kidding. But he was in Florida. Our Gail posted this on my Facebook today, pointing out that it looks more like Lloyd than Orlando, which is where they were. I'm glad to know that Mick got out in nature. I bet Keith got out in a bar. Right now this second, I'd rather be in a bar than out in nature, no matter the company in either. I just took my walk and I swear to god...okay. I need to stop talking about the heat. It's Florida. It's hot.
The heat index is 106.
Not going to talk about it.

I think I discovered why our power went out the other night.

Dead tree down. See the burn marks in the second photo? 

Could have been spontaneous combustion.

No. Not going to talk about the heat. 

I don't want to talk about the news either.

No. Let me correct that. I can't talk about the news. 

How could anyone sit in a church for an hour and then...

No. 

I swear to god, if the boys weren't coming over in a little while and spending the night, I would start drinking straight vodka right now. 

No. I wouldn't. But I'm going to say this- mix guns and insanity and hate and racism and there is never going to be an end to tragedy and horror and grief and pain and blood. 

And as a white person, all I can do is to apologize over and over and over again but there is no end to that either and it does no more good than complaining about the heat. 

I guess the best I can do today is to love those around me. That's all I can come up with anyway. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Heat Is On

Summertime, summertime.

Guess what? I don't have it in me to take that walk today. The death-urge is not upon me. 

Last night as I was getting ready to do the dishes, the power flickered, flickered, flickered. Went off. Came back on. 

Went off. 

Mr. Moon and I sighed and got out the camp lanterns and flashlights and took our showers and cut off all the lights we could remember having been on and went to bed. The cat woke us up three times. Then, about 1:30 the power came back on so we got up and went around and turned off the rest of the lights, I set the coffee, set the time on the clock on the stove, turned on my fans, etc. 

Finally, around two, I think we settled back in to good sleep. 

I had something really profound or funny to say here and now I can't even begin to remember what it was. 

In lieu of actual profundity or humor, I will show you this.

It's happening! 

Oh! Oh! I know what I was going to say! I dreamed about Keith Richards last night and in my dream, I saw him and I wanted desperately to go up to him and say something (profound and humorous?) that would relay my deep, deep fondness for him and I fumbled my words, ended up sounding like a dolt, and stumbled off into a wall, I think. 

Even in my dreams I am a social mess. 

All right- here's some earthshaking news. 

MAY CUT ABOUT A YARD OF HAIR OFF YESTERDAY! Well, she didn't cut it. Someone else did. Listen- May's hair got caught in her jeans it was so long. It was truly and really down to her ass. And I'd post the picture she sent me but I know she wouldn't like that. How do I know? Because we are just alike and we both hate pictures of ourselves. But trust me when I tell you it's so lovely. And she has inspired me and given me courage and I am going to get mine cut. May is going to send her hair to an organization called "Wigs for Kids."

I hope I can do the same. Will they take gray hair? I suppose they can dye it. Although gray hair IS very trendy these days. Maybe not for kids though.

All right. I better get off my ass. I'm going to town for a few hours this afternoon to stay with the boys. Before I go though, let me point out that Mick Jagger was also in my dream. He, however, was too busy trying to seduce my in-the-dream roommate for me to even think about talking to him. I think he made eye contact with her and then they disappeared. 

Is there a parallel universe in which these things are actually happening? 

Who knows? 

Not me.

Love...Ms. Moon

So. What? So What? Or So, WHAT???!!!

So we were eating our delicious lunch at Japanica! today and I am not sure how it came up but the word "gay" was said.
"Do you know gay is, Owen?" I asked him.
"No," he said.
I started to go into a longish explanation and Hank cut in.
"If a boy falls in love with a boy or a girl falls in love with a girl, that's called gay."
"Oh," he said. "Can we talk about me now?"

Ah, my heart.

I had the best time today. Hank and Jessie and Lily and the boys and I had our lunch and then we went to Costco where we dawdled down the aisles and talked about all the stuff we'd like to get but mostly don't. I love these outings. I feel like the matriarch I am with the grandchildren, the pregnant mommies, the son. We go in the coldy room, we shiver with great exaggerated shivers, we discuss whether or not we'd like to all split up one of these trays of nectarines and can you use some Romaine? We laugh, we peek at babies, we discover that you can buy a toilet for $84.95. We joke, we talk about how we could eat an entire box of whatever looks good and junky. We hold up ginormous containers of things and say, "Could you use this?"
Oh my goodness. What first world pleasures. Still, pleasures they are and I am not ashamed to say that one bit. We are gatherers and the Costco is air-conditioned and if we had to gather outside, we would die.

Speaking of which- how do those sidewalk builders do it? They work in this heat for over eight hours a day in high rubber boots and long sleeves and bright orange vests. They are soaking wet by the afternoon. I bet they go home and pour water from their boots, every bit of it from their own pores.
Of course, the two men who are doing most of the work are Mexican. They probably wonder why we're not doing it like they do in Mexico- rest during the heat of the day, work in the night time when it is cooler.
It seems ridiculous that we do not. Here in Florida, especially. I am in awe at anyone who works outside this time of year here. I simply do not understand how it can be done. Humans are far stronger than I can imagine. Some humans. Not me.

So. This Rachel Dolezal thing.
You know, I don't even know all of the details and I am not about to cast judgement. I just think that the whole situation brings up an amazing wealth of new questions about what we call race and privilege and culture. It's not unusual here to see women who are no doubt Caucasian who have married into Black families and who seem to have assimilated pretty thoroughly and yet, they do not seem to be Black themselves, just part of that culture. They have not darkened their skin nor permed their hair although they may be wearing dreads or locs. That doesn't seem like a big deal to me.
People assimilate into cultures ALL the time. Ex-pats who move to different countries, people who move from NYC to the deep south or vice-versa. Catholics who become Jews. Jews who become born-again Christians. Nothing wrong with any of that.
Sometimes we are raised in one culture and find another in which we feel, finally, at home. We should be free to adopt that culture if we please.
And as we all know, I'm extremely comfortable with those who feel as if they were born into the wrong bodies due to gender issues. I support those people with all of my heart if they decide to make things right.
But.
Mmmmm....
Is this because it's a race thing? I know that Black people have "passed" in our culture for many, many years. Does it show a prejudice on my part because I don't even question that? And what IS race? What's the deal with that? Why do we call Obama Black? He's as much White as he is Black. Are we still doing that "one drop" thing where if you have one bizzilionth of African heritage as a percent of your blood you are considered to be Black? Doesn't this almost ensure that most of us ARE Black? And if you turn it upside down, aren't most of us White?
See? I don't know enough about any of this to really know how I feel.
I suppose that part of the problem in this case is that Ms. Dolezan misrepresented herself in ways that were not at all honest or truthful. The perms, the darkening of her skin by whatever means, her direct claims that she is, indeed, Black. The fact that she (according to what I've read) has claimed that "hate crimes" have been directed towards her. This is all troubling.
But it's so interesting, you know?
The situation is making me THINK about things. Mostly, to tell you the truth, about what is race and what is culture and what beliefs do I hold, even subconsciously, about race and culture?

When I asked for thoughts on the situation this morning, I got some incredibly thoughtful ones. I knew I would. And as Elizabeth said, I don't really care what anyone claims to self-identify with. It's not my job. Although- hold on! I don't want someone who "self-identifies" as a doctor but who really only has a high school education to be doing surgery on me or anyone I know. Is that in any way related?

See? It's like a giant onion of a conundrum here. At least, it feels that way to me. Am I over-thinking it? Wouldn't be the first time. But whatever is going on here, at least I've met a situation where even at my age I don't have any real immediate reaction and every question I ask leads to more questions. I find this encouraging.

Now tomorrow we may discuss the caliber of the Republicans who have announced candidacy for President. I'm not in much doubt about how I feel about that. In fact, to discuss it would probably be a big fat waste of time.

All right. I have to go make supper. But I would be VERY interested in your perspective on the issues that Ms. Dolezan's "outing" (is it an outing?) have brought up.

Because honestly, I just don't know quite what to think.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Am Not Trans Racial Nor Trans Gendered But I Can Be Trans Cultural When Needs Must

Dear god, some days I think I am trying to kill myself with these walks.
Other days, I am certain of it.
Although I said I was cranking up to a rant or at least political discussion last night, I've done walked myself out of it. Actually, I'm going to town to meet up with some young'uns.

Who the hell am I channeling today?

Well, I've had one conversation with the guy in charge of laying sidewalks and one conversation with the lady at the water board office and another woman who was in the office too.
"How far do you walk?" the other lady asked me.
"She gets it, don't she?" asked the water board lady.
We proceeded to discuss nude beaches among other things.
The sidewalk guy needed to talk to me about how we weren't going to be able to get our cars in or out from this afternoon until tomorrow evening. He looked around at my yard and said, "My god, this is a beautiful place."
I saw it through his eyes and it is. He told me that his wife had always wanted an old house like mine. "But in all the years we was married, she never did," he said, almost accusingly, as if it had been her fault.
Maybe it was. How would I know?

Anyway, the sidewalk guys are gettin' it too.

Never thought I'd actually see it. 

All right. I need to get a shower and scoot before I'm trapped inside the fence. 

Which, you know, wouldn't make me too upset although I think I can hear Japanica! calling my name. Costco may be whispering it.

But before I leave- do y'all have any thoughts on Rachel Dolezal? I can't quite figure out how I feel about the whole issue. Not that it's really my business. But I sort of want to discuss it. 

Later, loves.

Ms. Moon

P.S.

As I was driving Owen back to his house after our supper out, he told me this:
"You have to follow your own spirit to tell you what to do."
I swear. He said that.

Happy

Here are pictures.

Owen took that last one and the lights were out to bring in the cake with candles so...

But it's sweet. 

Oh, my sweet family. 

My heart is just overwhelmed sometimes. It was a very good evening. Our server was excellent, the food was good and Owen and Gibson and Lenore were only slightly wild. 

I came home after cake at Lily and Jason's and went to put the chickens to bed. Miss Elvira and Miss Lisa Marie (perhaps temporary names but that's what we're calling them now) have not been going to bed in the hen house and last night we couldn't find them anywhere but they showed up this morning. Tonight, however, Elvira was in the henhouse in a nesting box and Lisa Marie was on top of the run between the henhouse and the coop and I picked her up and put her in with her sister. 

We're getting there. 

Well, I feel a political rant coming on or at least a discussion of the most recent news but quite frankly, tonight's not the night. Tonight is the night to celebrate Jason and why I love him so much. Here's a picture he posted on Facebook under the title "This is why I do what I do."

There's an awful lot of people who don't figure that one out in a lifetime. And he just turned thirty today. 

What more can I say?

Love...Ms. Moon

Things Are Ripening Around Here

It is Jason's birthday! My son-in-law, my grandsons' daddy. My daughter's husband.
He is so good in all of those roles. He is just a good, good man and I can't tell you how happy I am he's part of our family. He and Lily have the day off and they're on their way to go canoeing on the river with the boys. We're all going to meet up in town tonight to have supper and celebrate. I am looking forward to that! Hank is home and I think we'll all be there except for Mr. Moon who has to go to auction.
Sigh.
Work.
We have some mighty fine men in this family.

It is definitely getting to be summer. I walked this morning and it was not that much fun. Here's your annual picture of the Clitoria, also known as the Butterfly Pea but that's not nearly as cool.

Things are blooming and ripening. 

So are daughters. Here's one of them.

I got her permission to use this picture and she wants me to inform you that she has psoriasis which is why she is spotted. I told her that no, I was going to say she was a leopard. She said she told Owen that this weekend but he didn't believe her. Mr. Moon and I were just talking last night about how Owen used to say to me, "Mer. I no beleeb you."

Such a cynical child.

Isn't Jessie beautiful? Twenty six weeks. Fourteen to go. THAT'S MY GRAND CHILD IN THERE! Yes. I know you're aware of that. Still. Another grandson. He and Gibson and Owen shall be the Three Ninjas. And if Lily has another boy, it will be the Four Ninjas. And if she has a girl it will be...CRAZY!!!!

I hung out the sheets a half hour ago. They're probably dry. 

It's summertime, y'all. Enjoy the blooms and blossoms. 

Happy birthday, Jason! See you tonight!

Love...Ms. Moon/Mom/Mer Mer/Mary

Life In Lloyd, Part Whatever

Liz Sparks gave me this little cookbook the other day and it was printed up in 1984 and it is indeed from my Lloyd. I was so thrilled.

The Lloyd Extension Homemakers had a clubhouse and the building is still right down the road from me. There's a drawing of it in the cookbook, done by Martha Canady.

There's also a picture of it from 1958 that I found in the Florida Photographic Archive Collection online. 

And here is what it looks like this very day.

I walked down there and got a picture of it. When I lived in Lloyd, back in the seventies, that's where we went to vote. I voted for Jimmy Carter in that building. Unfortunately, Ronald Reagan won the election and I'm still so pissed off about that I can barely speak of it. Dude couldn't even ACT!
Well, la-di-dah and so forth.

The building is no longer in use as a Woman's Club which is very sad to me, but it is used three nights a week for AA meetings and that's a pretty good thing for it to house I would say. 

Anyway, the cookbook is a typical one of its era and as I was saying to Mr. Moon today, I wish it had more recipes for things like collard greens and fried green tomatoes or, actually ANY recipes for things like that instead of all of the crushed pineapple/Cool Whip/cream of mushroom soup types. 

"Everyone knew how to cook collard greens and fried green tomatoes," he said. 

Probably true. And every lady wanted to put in her fanciest recipe, I'm sure, so recipes with names like "Broccoli Supreme" and "Melt In Your Mouth Chicken" abound. 

Yes, there is cream of mushroom soup in both of those. 

There's even a recipe for Congealed Egg Vegetable Salad AND one for Potato Salad in Jello, both of which require a box of lemon Jello. 

Ummm...

No thanks. 

Now here's one that I almost desperately want to try:

It sounds so sickening that I can't EVEN (as the young people say these days) but what if it's the best thing ever? An entire BOX of powdered sugar? 

My heart beats faster just thinking about it. 

But there are some good-looking recipes for cakes and dumplings and even angel biscuits and I'm sure I'll use something from it one of these days. Especially if I'm in a gourmet mood. 

So I just wanted to talk about that and show you the pictures and while I was perusing the Florida Photography Archives I came across this picture.

That is Aetha Broxy and her sister Sebrina Broxy Nickerson in Lloyd, Florida, taken in 19--?

Aren't they lovely? Look at those clothes! 

It's been a very nice day, very laid-back. We did go down to the river and get in. There were so many people there, swimming and lounging and putting in kayaks and canoes. It was sweet and made me feel good about the diversity of my community. And the water was deliciously cold. We came home and may I point out that the saying on the front of the cookbook is one that I've heard all my life, although usually phrased as "Kissing Don't Last, Cooking Do," and after thirty years of marriage to this man it is my experience that kissing does indeed last and so do other things and tonight I'm going to make some fried green tomatoes and I don't need a recipe. Some things you just KNOW how to do and in fact, you get better at them as you go along. 

That's enough of that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Politics, Now And Then

We've had our eggs, our grits, our bacon, our biscuits. We've read the paper. The column that seemed the most telling about our state government can be found HERE if you've any interest. All of you who live in states which have less assholiness going on, be grateful. All of you who live in countries with universal health care systems- be proud AND grateful. There may be problems but at least people are not afraid that if break a leg they'll be bankrupted. Let's not even talk about what happens if you get a devastating diagnosis although if you have no insurance, the chances of getting any sort of diagnosis is pretty moot unless you end up in an emergency room.

But hey! Those politicians sure showed Obama, right?

And it's Sunday. A good day to take pictures. Don't ask me why.

Begonia blossoms. One I took with the real camera. One with the iPhone camera. Which do you like best?

Happy phlox. Happy yard.

So many figlets! Oh, the potential! 

Mick at watch under the bananas.

Elvira in the border grass. John Gray- if you are reading this- do you see hen or rooster here? Anyone else? 

Nope. Not a dead chicken. A sunbathing beauty- Miss Trixie. 

Look at those gorgeous feathers, that outstretched leg! Ooh! The glamor! Miss Trixie's laying days are virtually over but who wouldn't love a pretty pet like that, especially one who croons such a sweet song? 

And there you go. The goings-on in a Lloyd, Florida yard on a Sunday morning. We're talking about driving down to the river to take a dip after Mr. Moon does some mowing. I think I might confound the whole entire universe and NOT do any outside work today. Or inside either if I don't feel like it. Fuck it. 

It's the Sabbath and I must just keep it holy. Or wholly. Better that than assholy. 

Speaking of holy, I'm listening to Blood and Beauty: The Borgias, by Sarah Dunant which is basically about the Papacy in the last days of the fifteenth century and I had no idea that back in those days it was completely acceptable, nay, expected! that the Pope would have illegitimate children and that those children would be used as pawns in the Game of God as I am going to call it, but which was nothing more than politics, for the most part.

As the Pope was considered to be the King of the Church, his "bastard" children were its princes and princesses. 

Well. There you go. You probably knew this but I did not.

I still remember the shame I felt when I wrote a short story in the sixth grade, set back in times before, which started out something like, "My father was a priest and my mother was a nun," only to be told by my teacher that priests and nuns did not marry and thus, did not have children. 

Ha! Take THAT Mrs. Carr!

Love...Ms. Moon

Taking Notes

Cardinal sitting in a beam of light from the setting sun. Reddest thing I've ever seen.

Husband home but he left again to go help Vergil with some kitchen stuff and he's on his way home again. He brought home some of the food they made while he was at the beach- a low-country boil with shrimp and crawfish, sausage, potatoes, corn. That's going to be our supper along with some green beans from the garden, some cucumbers and cherry tomatoes. Eating is mighty good this time of year.

That bird's still sitting there. I think he's just taking in the beauty of the end of this fine day. He's not making a sound, just looking around. I would not be surprised at all to discover that birds enjoy such things. I know if I try to take his picture he'll fly away. I'd rather not disturb him.
Whoops! Mick and Nicey and Chi-Chi just came running through the yard and he flew away. Aw well, I've written it down. It happened.

Red bird watches sunset through magnolia leaves. 

A not-quite still life.

I'm thinking that the two young chicks are both hens. I don't see one sign of rooster. Of course, I could be very wrong. If I'm right though, the white one with black markings shall be called "Elvira." Perfect. Still not sure about the red one. I'm thinking about it. Maybe Owen will come up with a good name. They seem to be doing well although they are still not an accepted part of the flock. They keep their own company on the fringes. Yesterday I took some tortillas out to crumble for them and they flew across the yard to be first at the feast. How a creature with such insignificant-looking wings can fly, I do not know but they can. They fly low to the ground but they do it.
There may be a metaphor there but I don't really think so.
"What did the author MEAN when she said this?"
Uh. What she said?
I always hated that part of English Lit. Hated it.

And now the man is home and we're about to have a martini walk-about. I'll show him where I weeded in the garden today and he won't be able to tell a thing but I have to brag. I'll show him the zinnias and we'll ooh and ah over the big, fat tomatoes coming on. We'll admire the blooming phlox and probably laugh at our miniature flock of chickens and a duck.

I'm mighty glad he's home. And I hear that Jessie and Vergil have a stove and a refrigerator now. It's all coming along.
Life is a process. I am pretty sure there is no real beginning and no real end except for the obvious ones of birth and death.
It's good to remember that.
It's good to take joy where we can from it, to note things like a cardinal in a beam of light. To hold hands. To say "I love you."

You hear what I'm saying?
Good.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday And No, I Don't Really Have A Point Here

Here's a little video I got last night.

We miss you so much and I'm having ice-cream.

Well, it is certainly nice to be missed but I am happy that today is the day my boys come home. Hank and Boppy and Owen.
I am so glad they all got to go away and have adventures but I am so glad they are all coming home.

I just talked to Mr. Moon and he told me that last night Owen went up to his cousin who is only a few months older than he is and he got very close, face-to-face, and he said, "I want to say something."
And she said, "Okay, you can say it."
"I love you," he said, and then they hugged and Mr. Moon died of the sweetness.
I don't think I've ever heard my husband sound so completely thrilled about anything in his life as he sounds about being able to take Owen off on that little trip.
"I finally got to have MY time with him," he said. And if that isn't the best, I don't know what is. Because of our situations, it's been me that's gotten to spend the most time with those boys and Mr. Moon hasn't resented that. He's known that that's the way it had to be. But he's always said, "I'll get my time."
And now he has. At least a little bit of it.

Ah well, the day is going by so quickly and I've done so very little. It's hot and steamy, the recent rains adding to the sauna-like effect of it all. I need, at the very least, to clean out the hen house. The weather thing says that it's 90.2 degrees but that it feels like 101.
Yeah. Whatever.

Maybe when Mr. Moon gets home we'll drive down to the river and jump in and cool off. Or he may be ready to just sit in his chair and rest up from his adventures.

On a completely different note, my favorite on-line quote from last night's Stones concert was: "They are not human."

The red zinnia opened up.

Lily's leg feels much better. 

So much love...Ms. Moon

Reporting In

The good news is that Lily does NOT have a blood clot or a deep-vein thrombosis, which is what we were worried about.
The bad news is that she does have cellulitis. Which they are going to treat with amoxicillin. I hope that works because she is, as we all know, pregnant. Gibson seems to keep a staph infection going in his nose which I hear is quite common and who knows?
I don't know.
I do know that the symptoms for DVT and cellulitis are much the same- swelling, redness, heat. So it was good that she went and got it looked at because cellulitis can be potentially dangerous if left untreated. She was in the ER for hours but it could have been worse. Her vascular doctor does not work on Fridays and her Primary had no extra slots. Which is why she ended up in the ER but at least they could do an ultra-sound there on the affected area so that is probably where she should have been anyway.

Gibson and I spent a pleasant day playing games which means everything from doing puzzles to coloring. We read a Thomas The Tank Engine book more than once. When I left, I hugged and kissed him and said, "I love you, Gibson!"
"I love you, baby!" he yelled back.
Another thing he said to me today was, "I want to tell you a question."
I can't even remember what it was but it made me laugh.

Boppy/Boppa (the name seems to be in transition) reports that Owen is being the best, sweetest boy imaginable. That he is getting along with all of the other kids very nicely. That he is being the best boy that any grandfather could ask for.
I asked him how Owen was doing with the oldest girl who is about his same age.
"Like bread-and-butter," Mr. Moon reported. "Like bread-and-butter."
I'm mighty proud of that boy. And Boppy. Who is the best grandfather any boy could ask for.

And so it goes. I didn't get home until after six-thirty. I stopped by the grocery store and picked up some fancy pasta and will make a "garden medley" sauce to go with it from these lovelies which I picked a few minutes ago.

Not the eggs. Just the vegetables.

I noted that the first zinnia which is not pink or lavender has bloomed.

Bright enough? It's so funny how every one of the volunteers, seeded from last year's plantings are of the pink and lavender variety. I can't wait to get more colors from this year's planting. A red one is about to open. Liz told me yesterday that her granny grew enough food in her garden to feed a family of five year-round. She had a canning shed. But she always planted a row of zinnias which she called, "my purties." And she cut them and took them to decorate the church on Sundays.
I have never decorated a church with my zinnias but I've been decorating my house with them for almost forty years.

Speaking of flowers, here's a picture I took on my walk this morning of a swamp mallow.

Related to the hibiscus, Rose of Sharon, okra, and Confederate rose.

It's been a day of ups and downs but all has turned out well. Last night little red chick did not show up and this morning when I let the chickens into the coop from the henhouse she was still nowhere to be found. I had given her up for dead. But when I let the birds out from the coop she suddenly was just there, out of nowhere, and I am so glad.

I keep thinking about the fact that I could have been in Orlando tonight. I bet the energy there is intense and I almost feel as if I can feel it from here. But...I had a job to do today. I needed to stay with that boy while his mama went to the Emergency Room and Jason got off work to go with her but if I hadn't been here, he would have had to have taken care of Gibson which would have left Lily all alone and NO ONE needs to be in the ER by themselves. You simply cannot take a three-year old to that place for the hours and hours it requires unless it is absolutely necessary.

I wrote Hank today and said, "Everything's gone to hell since you left. You need to come HOME!"

He will be home tomorrow as will my husband and Owen. I sort of hate the word "synergy" but perhaps there is something to the theory. Again- I don't know.

I'm going to go cook some vegetables. I know how to do that.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S.

Did you know about this?



One more reason to live. Thanks, Bill. And Bruce too, whom I have had a sweet and tender crush on since Moonlighting. 
I might actually have to go to the movies.

Better Safe

I'm here at Lily's watching this guy so his mama can go get a place on her ankle checked to rule out (hopefully!) a blood clot. I'll report in later. 

Love...Ms. Moon

So Many Pictures

This woman saved my life today.
That's my Liz Sparks. She never gives up on me, this woman. She pins me down and makes me commit to outings. And I will never, ever be able to tell her how grateful I am for that.
Liz and I go way back. We met at the Birth Center where we both worked and I fell in love with her immediately. No holds barred. Love at first sight. She was my mentor and after the first birth we did together she took me in the kitchen to tell me about a ritual that she always did which was to say something that her old granny midwife had said after she had delivered Liz's first child at home which was, "Thank you, JESUS, for another healthy baby!"
Now Liz is no more religious than I am but she is a great, good respecter of ritual and thus it was and thus, I did.
She was with me when Jessie was born. She was there when Jessie was married. We've been through births, deaths, divorces, road trips, drunken poetry readings, birthdays, sorrows, depressions, you-name-it, we've done just about everything but get married. To each other, that is.
Which I would gladly do if circumstances arose.
But that's neither here nor there and today she took me on a mystery date. We drove down some backroads to Metcalfe, Georgia and no, I doubt you've ever heard of it unless you live around here and even if you do, you probably don't know where it is.
I had been there before, tooling around in the convertible with Mr. Moon, a long time ago. There's a huge sawmill there but not much else. But Liz had heard about a restaurant called Mary's Kitchen and that was our destination.

One small room with about eight tables. Not big tables either although they had moved three of them together for a large party which one family was eating at. One waitress. Who took note of you but was in no hurry. This was Metcalfe, y'all. 

We weren't in a hurry either so it was perfect. The waitress finally got to us and took our drink order. The menu listed the two entrees for today. They change every day. Today's choices were either chicken and sausage jambalaya or baked spaghetti. They came with two choices of side dishes. The side dishes were as follows: buttered carrots, beets, green beans, and pinto beans. 

Both of us ordered, when the waitress was good and ready to wait on us, jambalaya. I got pinto beans and green beans. Liz got pinto beans and beets. 

Here's what my lunch looked like.

As you can see, it came with a nice slice of Texas Toast. Along with all of that and the beverage, you get dessert which today was hot homemade apple crisp and strawberry ice cream. 

We ate every bite. 

Guess how much it cost? 

Five bucks a plate. 

Five dollars, yes, you heard me. 

After we ate and paid our bill, we drove around Metcalfe for a bit. 

Quite a bit of diversity there and not an insignificant amount of charm. There was one house for sale that would have made Scarlet O'Hara feel at home and it was the stuff of a Southern girl's fantasy life. And there was a magnificent rose garden in the yard. 

After we checked out these sights, we looked at the sawmill. They had giant machinery there that would make a little boy happier than Disney World. Pine trees were piled and stacked like toothpicks and we watched them get loaded onto giant conveyer belts to be skinned. Then we just picked a random road and drove down it. It was a red clay road and there wasn't much to see but beautiful woods and forest until suddenly, we saw a cemetery. We stopped and got out and walked around in wonder. It was old. Headstones from the mid-nineteenth century. Spread out over a few acres, it seemed to me. 

We studied headstones and formed the stories. One family had seven identical small headstones laid out in a row with nothing but names on them along with two for the parents, I would suppose. Did they lose all of their babies in one epidemic? Yellow fever? Spanish Influenza? Whooping cough? Malaria? We will never know.

The place was not well tended. There was poison ivy and Virginia Creeper and lots of other weeds I can't name. There were family plots gathered together within intricate iron fences with gates coming unhinged. 

There was a blooming day lily, probably planted long, long ago.

It was quiet and peaceful and I told Liz something that I read that Neal deGrasse Tyson said about how being cremated TAKES energy while burial in the ground can provide energy if done properly. I would love to be buried someplace like that cemetery. No chemicals, no lead coffin-liner. Just laid in a plain box or even just wrapped in a sheet, sunk into the dirt to feed the trees, the plants, whatever green needed feeding. A green burial. 

It would make me mighty happy to think that my kids could come to a place like that old graveyard to sit on the ground to think about me, could plant roses on me or a an oak tree. I didn't used to think I wanted anything like that but as I grow older, I think that might be nice. Now if my options are either one of those modern cemeteries with the plots laid out like housing development streets with  flat small stones to make mowing easier, or being cremated, I'd choose cremation any day. 

But to have my bones be part of the earth in a place like the one we saw today? 

I would love it. 

Waste not, want not. 

There was another cemetery right across the red dirt road but it looked tended, planted, and the not-found-in-nature colors of artificial flowers bloomed forth from it. 

What was the story there? At first we thought that maybe one side of the road had been for slaves, the other for white people. This is not an unusual situation here in plantation country. But no, mostly slave burial grounds were not marked with stone and iron and there were too many different family names. 

Had there been an old church on one side of the road which burned down or fell down and another built across the road? There was no sign of a church on either side of the road.

Someone may know this story, but not us. 

We didn't stop to investigate the newer cemetery although it looked fine in its way and the setting was as beautiful as the untended one across the road. 

We had no idea where we were. Florida? Georgia? We finally reached a paved road and a sign that said Leon County and we laughed. We did a lot of laughing. Liz and I can say anything to each other without shocking the other. It's a relief and a joy to be around someone who grew up in the same crazy times you did. Although we are, in many ways very different (she, for instance, has never once turned down an adventure in her life and she IS going to go see the Rolling Stones), at the heart of it, we are much the same.

We drove down a few more roads, stopped and went out on the dock at Lake Miccosukee. Then we came back here and I gave her eggs and cucumbers, a few green tomatoes and some soup. I would have given her my chickens if she'd asked for them. 

Boppa and Owen made it to the beach just fine. I bet you that Owen is in heaven. He's got his Boppa all to himself, he's got second cousins (?) to play with, and all of this too.

He's never going to want to come home. Except that eventually, he will miss his mama and daddy and brother. And maybe even the funk of his Mer Mer's house. 

I guess that in reality, we are all where we're supposed to be or at least we can find enough reason to believe that. 

I wonder where Keith and Mick and Charley and Ronnie are tonight. Probably already in Orlando. I bet you anything that the trucks carrying their stage stuff and lights and equipment passed within a quarter of a mile of my house today on 1-10, traveling from Atlanta to Orlando. And maybe those ageless boys passed right over me in their plane. 

It's a small world, it's a huge universe. 

I'm so glad I know some of the best people in it and that they do not give up on me. One of the things that made Liz and me laugh today was talking about how I took her to get her colonoscopy a few months ago. 

"Yep," I said. "That's me. Don't ask me to come to a party and expect me to show up but if you need someone to take you to get a colonoscopy, I'm your gal!"

We all have a role to play in this life, I guess. 

I feel much soothed by that thought and feel as if I have been pulled from the Slough of Despair by love and by laughter and some of the best pinto beans I've ever eaten in my life. 

Bless. 

Love...Ms. Moon