A P.S. Lagniappe To The Last Post

Man. Memories can definitely be off. Here's the text exchange Hank and I just had. 

Okay. That's a bit messy but there you have Hank's memory of the event and I am sure that is the correct one. 

"Hugs From Random Queers" would be a great name for novel, a memoir, or even a poem, don't you think? 

Oprah Story

This is not the Oprah mug that I had and/or have. I thought I still had one but can't find it. I've had two of them. They're what Oprah used to give you when you appeared on her show as a guest.

Classy, eh? 

One of the mugs I had came courtesy of Hank after he'd been on the show and the other, its twin, came with this house. 

So. Why was Hank on Oprah?
Well. Because he's so damn cool, of course. 

Many years ago, back when Hank was but a high school senior, I think, he was the first openly queer kid in the history of his high school. This was Tallahassee, Florida back around 1993 or 1994. 
Again- I think. 
Hank has always been exactly who Hank is and oh, honey, some of the stories I could tell you...
Like the one about what happened with the sister of the groom at a family wedding in Connecticut...
We don't need to go into that now. We shall stick with Oprah.
So. There was Hank, in high school, and every day these specific boys who were also students, would harangue him. Insult him. Call him vile names and so forth. Even threaten him. In other words, they were not raised right and were flaming haters of all things homosexual. 
(More on that later but you can guess where this goes.)

So somehow, some way, someone who worked for Oprah knew someone who had Tallahassee connections and had heard about Hank. Oprah wanted to put together a show about how openly out queer kids got treated at their schools by other students. 
And so, Hank was invited to be one of the participants, as were the flaming homosexual haters. 
When he told me about this, it was like, "So Mom, they're going to fly me to Chicago and send a limo to pick me up and put me in a room at a great hotel and everything's taken care of. Can I go?" And all of this was going to happen tomorrow. As in, the next day. 

Now I probably would have insisted on going with him but it just so happened that this was the exact same time May had been hit by a car on her way to school and was in the hospital recovering from multiple surgeries and it was a miracle she was alive. 
I can't talk about this without crying so we'll just move on from here.
So of course I was spending every waking hour with her at the hospital and none of her other parents could go so...despite my better judgement, I gave my permission and off Hank went to Chicago. I feel sure that I talked to someone who convinced me of the legitimacy of the situation. 
God, I hope so. As one can imagine, I was not really in my right mind at the time. And how could I have been?
I can't remember the exact timing but somehow I think the show with Hank aired before he got home although he well have been there with us and a bunch of us gathered in May's hospital room to watch it. Family. His friends. Our friends. The nurses...
May's nurse that day was a gay man and he popped into the room as much as possible, letting himself be as camp as all get-out and there in that room we all felt so proud of Hank for all the reasons and as his mother, I was overcome with what an amazing person my child was. 
Tearing up again. 
Of course.
The thing about those mean, ignorant boys was that their threats to Hank really had been serious and they threatened May, too, who although she did not go to the same high school, walked past it on the way to her own school. They knew she was Hank's sister and made her another target of their hate.
I had no idea how far this taunting and name-calling had gotten and as a mother, I was ashamed of not knowing that. 
Well. What's done is done and this is not about me. 

And Hank became something of a celebrity in the overall gay community of this part of the south and I was even recognized as being his mother! You're Hank's mother? Oh my god! 
And I was proud as I could be to say, Yes. Yes I am. 
And as these things go, one or more of those boys eventually crawled out of the closet themselves. And in a way, I feel so sorry for them because they were so afraid of being recognized for who they were that they had to hate someone else to hide their true nature, not only to others but to themselves. 

So that's the story of how Hank was on Oprah.
It was an experience and I'm so glad he got to have it although it is sad and tragic beyond belief that that show had to be made at all. 
But hey! Thanks, Oprah. 

All right. I believe I will go make our supper. Today was fine and once again, I did not mop the kitchen. I went to town and got some groceries and also stopped in at Oak Tree Treasures where everything in the store was half off and I bought two overblouses, one of them yet another white linen button up, a boatneck long-sleeved pink shirt and a bowl I'd had my eye on for quite awhile. 

What the heck is that flat part for? 

So you can rest it on its side while whisking or scraping something out of it. I may never use that feature but I like the bowl on its own merits. I think it will be a good bread-rising bowl. 

And look at what Mr. Moon has spent the last three days doing.

He's replaced the back porch steps with brand new ones. I think he's going to paint them with some sort of gritted coating to prevent slipping. 
Or something. 

That man. 
I have the best men in my life. And I know it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

History Of A Bathroom. Also A Possible Reason To Possibly Believe In The Simulation Theory

There. That picture is for Ms. Debby at Life's Funny Like That  who asked to see it. She said I'd probably posted it before and I have but a good Talavera sink is always worth another look. We got that in Mexico a long time ago and Glen put it in the...what IS that thing I have in my bathroom that's neither a counter nor a cabinet nor a vanity? I don't know. Some old piece of furniture that was repurposed. You can clearly see it in yesterday's post. 

I know I've posted about this too, but I call my beautiful bathroom "the bathroom that Oprah built." 
There is a reason for this. The man we bought this house from had been married to a writer named Connie May Fowler and they lived here together for quite some time but according to my across-the-street neighbors, one day she showed up when he was gone with a moving van and hauled everything out that she wanted and took off, never to be seen in Lloyd again. They divorced and we bought the house. 
The funny thing is, I had read and truly enjoyed several of Ms. Fowler's books. The first one I read was "River of Hidden Dreams." I thought it was a beautiful book. To this day I think it is my favorite although she wrote a nonfiction book called, "When Katie Wakes" which literally kept me up and reading until about four o'clock in the morning. I'll never forget that. We were on Dog Island and not too long after that, she actually wrote a book which mostly took place on a barrier island with a different name but which was, in fact, Dog Island. "Remember Blue." 
There were lots of mentions of places in Tallahassee and down on the coast which was interesting but I had to say that the novel did not light my fire. 
She even wrote one about living in this house. "How Clarissa Burden Learned To Fly." It is...well, interesting. I was SO excited to read it but it was just a little too odd for me. She mentions the Hilltop which is cool and her philandering husband, which she really did have, (I found proof of that when we moved in), and okay, a dwarf circus. In Lloyd. 
But Ms. Moon- how does Oprah come into this story?
Well. Connie May Fowler wrote another book which was published in 1996 titled, "Before Women Had Wings." Oprah read this book and decided she not only wanted to make a movie of it, she wanted to be in it. And she did and she was. 
I have no idea how much Ms. Fowler made from this whole thing but I have a strong feeling that some of the money, at least, went to building that bathroom. 
Both the book and the movie were gritty and filled with domestic abuse, alcoholism, child abuse, poverty, and suicide. 
Not a beach read, y'all! 
But I can definitely see why Oprah wanted to be involved with the making of a movie from it. 

WHAT IN HELL WAS I TALKING ABOUT?

Oh yeah. My bathroom. 

Here's another photo from my annual series of what the shadows and the light look like in the morning through the east-facing window of my bathroom. Those shadows are mostly made by the sun shining through bamboo and although I curse and revile it constantly, I look forward every year to this particular time when that curtain becomes a screen behind which the bamboo creates shadows which dance and sway and bring animation and life to what is usually one of the most pragmatic and utilitarian rooms in a house. 

Not my house, though. 

I am grateful to Connie May Fowler and Oprah Winfrey too for this room which I consider to be the best room in this house. 

So what else? I didn't get the kitchen mopped. 
Oh well. 
I did get the garden more thoroughly weeded and the last of the lettuce picked, washed, bagged, and put in the refrigerator. I also mulched using not only bags of leaves that Mr. Moon's friend gave him but also leaves that I raked in my front yard and toted to the garden. It's really so easy. I just lay down an old sheet and rake the leaves onto it and dump them in the garden cart. 

Here are a few pictures from the garden today. 

Here are the rattlesnake beans, snaking their way up the fence and trellis. I see buds on them. Soon I will be picking them and the canning jars will be put back into use. 

Garden roses. 

Big Boy tomatoes coming along nicely. 

Black cherry tomatoes. I can't wait to taste these. 

Snow peas illuminated like stained glass, only you can eat them. 

And I guess that's all. 

Tomorrow I shall surely mop the kitchen. Right? 

Oh, and by the way- guess where Connie May Fowler moved some years ago?
Cozumel. Where Mr. Moon and I bought that sink. A place I love with all my heart. 
WTF? 
I have no idea if she's still there or not. 
And to add just one more little tiny detail- Hank was once on Oprah too. Unfortunately, she did not make a movie about his life. 

Life is funny sometimes. Life is odd. And weird. 

So what else is new? 

Love...Ms. Moon

Dust To Dust And Dust I Did

That's the back of the dresser in my bathroom. 
As they sometimes say around here, the Lord put it on my heart to clean that room today, having been motivated by the dust I'd seen. And now don't get me wrong- there was enough dust to make a decent housecleaner cringe but certainly not enough to panic. I had a few more years before reaching Miss Havisham levels of neglect. 
Yeah. I know. Low bar. Still. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was. 
Here's what the wall behind the dresser looked like. 

Could have used some better lighting but staging a dusty wall seems rather ridiculous. 

Some of you were concerned that what I was dealing with was not dust but in fact, black mold. As you can see in the above photo, that is dust, for sure and for real. Let us compare it to the dust on an open shelf in the kitchen which again, I should be ashamed to show you. 

Obviously I have no shame. Well, that's a lie. I do have shame but it's certainly not about dust. 

Now am I saying that there is no mold or mildew in my bathroom?

I would be a stone cold liar if I did say that. 

This is Florida and we have mold and we have mildew. I believe that what I have on my bathroom walls is mildew, not mold but I am not sure. Either way, if one or both of those things could kill me I would be dead, dead, dead. 
Nor do I have respiratory problems. Or allergic reactions. So I think I'm good. I do need to get whatever it is off my bathroom wall but I am sort of at a stalemate with my beloved because I think it is definitely time to paint the rooms and it is simply not a priority to Mr. Moon. Of course in the prepping of the walls to paint, they would be cleaned. 
Now. Go ahead and tell me I'm a grown-ass woman and I can hire painters myself and I will tell you that yes, I am without a doubt a grown-ass woman but I will remind you that Mr. Moon was a painter when I met him and as I have so often stated, this man does not want to pay anyone to do what he could do himself which is fine if he DID these things himself. 
He does do a lot of things. For instance- right now he's working on replacing the back porch steps. He did this several years ago but it appears that pressure treated wood is not what it used to be. Now a broken step IS a priority because one or both of us could kill ourselves on it. This is not a joke. 

Most of all, I think I have just reached a point in my life where I do not enjoy roiling the waters. Glen and I are probably happier and sweeter with each other than we ever have been and we were always pretty sweet with each other and certainly happy enough to stay married all these years. 

Compromise, compromise, compromise. 

And kiss a lot. 

So. A small discussion about mold turned into a larger discussion about marriage which is pretty typical around here at blessourhearts because yes, bless our hearts! And I mean that in the real way, not the way you say it when someone keeps dating jerks who don't have jobs. 

Anyway, yes, I cleaned behind that dresser and I took all the rugs out of the bathroom and shook them and set them on the porch swing because the bathroom opens up to the porch swing porch and I dusted all the furniture (there is actual furniture in that bathroom) and threw out some stuff I knew I'd never use, hoping to reduce the clutter.

And yes, that is reduced clutter and don't you judge me. I love every bit of that stuff. 
Bless my heart. 

I took everything out of the bathroom I could manage to move and swept the floors and then...
Oh baby. I mopped. 
I surely did and the ethereal smell of Fabuloso and vinegar scent the air. 

You want to hear something funny? I keep my mop bucket outside by the old water pump shed, upside down on the fence and when I turned it over to use it, I discovered that a wasp had gone to the trouble to create a little nest. 

The wasps who do this are obviously genius architects. They make the nests from wood fiber chewed up with saliva. 
That's like saying the Egyptians made the pyramids with stones. 
Can you see the little eggs in there?

I cruelly removed the nest from the bucket and put it in my compost and what happens to those eggs now is not my business. 

I was going to then mop the kitchen but things arose which prevented me from getting that done. 
Oh well. 
I can do it tomorrow. Lord knows another day isn't going to make much difference. 

It's going to get down into the low fifties here tonight and I am excited! Hurray! Another night in which I can burrow under covers. Although it was overcast all day, there is no rain in sight for at least another week. 

I said in a few comments that I would be discussing why I haven't taken out all the sago palms in this yard since I obviously hate them so but really- who cares? The simple answer is that they are beasts to remove and yes, we could just cut them to the ground but since the area where we have the most of them is right in front of the front porch, the remaining stumps would take up so much space that I don't quite know what we'd plant there. 

I shall survive their spears and arrows. Oh wait. Slings and arrows. All three. Whatever.

Love...Ms. Moon

How's It Going? Pretty Good.

 

The chair is HERE!
As you can see, Mr. Moon is quite pleased with it and look how long it is! His feet do not hang over the edge. Well, not much anyway. It is a very large chair. 
Of course I had to try it out which made me feel like Edith Ann. Remember Edith Ann? She was a character from a bit Lily Tomlin used to do. 
Here's what I look like in the new chair. 

Absurd. My feet don't come anywhere near the floor when it's in the upright position. 
Oh well. It's not my chair. He did offer to let me use it again if I ever break any more ribs. I thanked him but told him I don't plan on that happening. Then again, that is not the sort of thing one plans on, is it? 

Gawd. I feel so boring this evening. I worked outside again today, this time on the bed beside the kitchen porch where I've got herbs planted along with a lot of other things. I cleared more border grass and had planned to plant zinnias in part of the cleared area but discovered that I only had about eight zinnia seeds leftover from when I planted the rest in the garden. I could have gone to the GDDG to get more but was too lazy. 
And tired. 
So I planted the eight seeds and also some more Thai basil seeds. I watered it all in and now we shall see what happens. 
If anything. 
I cleared the border grass from around the damn stupid sago palm and found two more baby plants that had sprouted. To the burn pile they went! The sago got me back by slicing a nice two inches or so of my arm where the skin is so thin now as to be about as protective as Kleenex. But not quite. 
So I bled of course and I learned something today which is that I do not like the sight of my blood pooling up either on dirt or overalls. I do not like that at all. So I came in, washed it all up and slapped a big honkin' bandaid on it. 
Problem solved. 

See the murder plant there in the left foreground? I trimmed it within an inch of its life a few months ago but unfortunately, it has new growth coming out under all that mess at the top. 

I sort of feel as if all of my effort today was a big waste of time but I have discovered that the gardenia bush I planted in there years ago may bloom for the first time this year. It was a mere twig when I planted it and it has taken its own sweet time in producing buds.

See the tender little thing? 
Come on, baby! You can do this! 
There are several other baby buds lurking in their own green leaf hiding places. 
I do love the scent of a gardenia. Rather magical, I think. Different than the beautiful scents of the magnolia and tea olive, but perfect in its own gardenia way. 

So speaking of Mr. Moon (which I frequently am), I believe he is determined to kill me. 

He decided to do some yard work himself today and that involved him using his branch-trimming device on limbs that stretch over the garden in order to get more sun on it. Now this picture does not show the entire story. That ladder was set up in the bed of his truck in order to get more height. 
This man should not be climbing ladders anywhere, ever, at this point in his life. 
"Please don't do that," I told him. 
"Don't worry. It's not a power tool," he told me. 
And that would make a difference how? 
I just watched him for a moment, said, "This is not a good idea," and walked back to the house. 

He lived. 

He also started the burn pile (the really huge one of the two we have) which caused the fire department to stop by and tell him that we're on a burn ban due to the drought. I didn't even see them! 
"Did they yell at you?" I asked. 
"Nah. They just told me to keep an eye on it."

Jefferson County, Florida where they trust a man to know how to control his burn pile. 

Sigh.

Life in Lloyd. So I guess it's been an exciting day and a rather unexciting day at the same time. Depends on your definition of both of those words. 

I did actually start doing a little glaze painting on the leaf platter I made in pottery some weeks ago but it looks like shit. So that wasn't very thrilling. 

There is plenty more yard work to be done around here of course, and I am not opposed to doing more of it tomorrow. In fact, I would like that very much. I did discover a few days ago, however, that there is an entire forest of the special Lloyd black, rather oily dust (I blame the train that goes by every day in our back yard and which has been going by for about 170 years) behind the dresser in my bathroom. It is coating the dresser and the wall. I should be ashamed to admit this but I am not. I have never once pretended to be much of a housecleaner. I am a housekeeper in my own way but cleaning? Not so much. The amount of dust is almost thrilling and I am sort of excited at the prospect of tackling it. Do you know that feeling? Like, I'll be doing something that truly makes a difference. It's disgusting and quite interesting at the same time. While I'm at it, I probably should take out all the rugs and give the floor a good sweeping which I do not mind doing at all but really, I should also mop and for whatever reason, mopping is not on my list of even vaguely enjoyable activities. The kitchen floor reached the point of desperately needing mopping about a month ago so there's that too. 
I need and would hire a cleaner but after my last experience with that situation, I have just not been motivated. It's easier to (not) do it myself. 

Here's today's attempt to learn more about how to use the camera on my new phone. 

I should probably start trying out different functions but I'm a little obsessed now. Eventually, I will watch some videos on how to use the camera so as to utilize more of its abilities. 

Hey! Did you hear that the Strait of Hormuz will never, ever, EVER again be shut down? It's true! Trump said it! 
Oh. 
Wait. 
It's shut down again. 
Get this asshole the fuck out of here along with the all of the horses on whose backs he rode in on. 

I'm going to go use some leftovers to make what I am certain will become more leftovers. It is, as I have said, my superpower.

We all need one, you know.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. 

This is one of my very most favorite songs in the entire world, especially sung by Ibrahim Ferrer. I was introduced to it on the album "Buena Vista Social Club" which Ry Cooder produced and which, in my opinion, is a masterpiece of almost-lost music made by Cuban musicians who deserve to be known to the entire world, many of whom have now gone on to that great group of musicians in the sky from throughout history who greeted them with open arms and open hearts and the music began again but now even sweeter with their presence. 
Close your eyes and just take it in.

Or not.

Explanation

After reading comments on yesterday's post, I realize I was not clear about the floor situation. 

The pictures I've been posting of the beautiful wood flooring were taken of the work Glen himself has done on the floors upstairs in the cabin. There are two bedrooms up there in which he has replaced the flooring and he has done a great job on them. 
As you have seen. 
The flooring with the issues is he downstairs floor which is concrete. When we bought the cabin, that floor was covered in very old, very nasty carpet and we have gone back and forth about what to replace that with. Ripping the carpet out was one of the first things Glen did to the house. 
We finally decided to go with a process to smooth and even out the concrete and finish it in a color (in our case, green) with a bit of grit in it to hopefully help prevent falls. Compared to other over-concrete flooring solutions it can be done quickly and relatively inexpensively. And one would hope, be fine as a floor. Rugs can be used, and so forth.

Something like tile but far easier to get done and far less expensive too. 

This is the floor that vastly disappointed Glen after its completion. 
And now we shall see if the business owner can come through with what he promised as to how the results should look because as of now, they do not.

Is that clearer? 

The upstairs floors are still beautiful. 
The downstairs floors are not. Never were, still aren't. 
Sigh.

Ms. Moon

A GOOD Friday, According To My Definition

Today was an excellent Friday. For me, at least. Mr. Moon had some bumps in his road though, specifically the fact that the floor he just had done completely disappointed him.
As in- he will not be able to live with it. He'll end up laying vinyl fake wood flooring over it if the floor guys can't get it far more to his satisfaction. And I understand that. There's a feeling we get in our guts when certain things happen that are not what we thought would happen and it causes not only deep frustration but also anger. Now as you probably know by now, Glen Moon does not vent his anger. I don't think I've ever heard him raise so much as his voice in anger. This does not mean he doesn't get angry. We all do. 
But he chooses to deal with it in a calm and non-threatening way. 
So he left the cabin and drove up to Cairo, Georgia where he wanted to look at a chair he thought might be the one to replace his recliner and he called me from the parking lot and asked me to just let him vent and of course I did. 
He was absolutely not wrong to be unhappy with the way the floor turned out. It was nothing like what had been promised. And I could tell he was really upset. And he needed to be able to talk about it. 
He ended up making notes about the problems he was seeing in order of importance and then texted the owner of the business and had him call so that they could discuss it. 
From a distance. 
And they did. 
So that was Glen's morning. He did, however, buy the chair and they will deliver it tomorrow. I think he is very happy about that. 

I spent way too much time this morning just reading blogs and commenting and doing stuff like that but when I got going, I got going. I did the laundry, including the sheets and hung everything on the line. Of course Maurice came to lay in the shade and keep me company. 

I watered the porch plants and some outside plants and I set the little funky sprinkler on the kitchen garden. It is so very dry and crunchy here right now. The forecast doesn't call for so much as a drop of rain in the coming week and the plants get so thirsty. So do the birds who seem to love to dance in the sprinkler, stretching their wings to catch the water which is a pretty thing to see. 

And then I finally got some work done in the garden. I did a little weeding and I did some mulching. At last! Things are coming along.
 

Here we have a very young bell pepper. The problem with my peppers and eggplants is that as always, the plants themselves do not seem to want to grow very large. I always call them my bonsai peppers and bonsai eggplants. What am I doing wrong? And yes, we do fertilize.
But the tomatoes are coming along and several are making tomatoes. The cucumbers and squash which are also in grow bags this year look pretty good although of course the bugs and mildews and so forth have not had time to take hold. The potatoes look great. See above. And the rattlesnake beans are climbing the fence. Can you see them?

It made me so happy to be back in the garden. Almost each and every plant becomes familiar to me and I silently cheer them on as they grow, flower and fruit. It's like it almost has nothing to do with the hopefully eventual harvests. Now if we depended on our food garden to actually feed us, it would be a different matter and I would not have the luxury of simply being invested in the growing of what we plant and would be far more concerned with what those plants produced. 
I know this. It can be a hobby rather than a live-or-die situation. 

We've got plenty of space to put in our field peas and need to go to the Waukeenah Fertilizer and Farm store to get the peas to plant. 
And yes, Waukeenah is a real place here in Jefferson County although like Lloyd, is not really a town but rather a community. And it is located not far from the Wacissa. 
After I did my weeding and mulching, I turned the garden sprinklers on and just a little while ago, Glen and I went out to turn them off and do a slow tour. We put tomato cages on a few of the tomatoes which have grown enough to need them and we noted the way the Thai basil from last year reseeded and is coming up nicely. We saw a bee, hovering about the little sprouts and I am sure she was on a reconnaissance mission to see how last year's favorite bee attractor was coming along. 

A day in which I spend a lot of time outside is the best sort of day for me and I feel all the better for having one of those. I brought the laundry in and made up the bed with the clean sheets, dried in the sun and the breeze and tonight's sleep will benefit from that. 

I did kick bamboo and there was not so much. I probably missed some but that's the way it goes. 
The smell of the star jasmine, aka Confederate Jasmine, is strong in the air. I discovered that somehow the climbing vine has made its way all the way up into the old oak in the front yard. Another invasive situation.

That is actually way, way up in the tree, taken with the pretty darn good telephoto capability of my new phone camera. Although the blossoms smell sweet, they can, like so many of the invasives, choke a plant to death. I'm not sure how this one made its way to the oak tree from the fence where I stupidly planted it, but it has. And honestly, the scent can be completely overpowering. 
I tried to take a picture of one of the very small blossoms. I'm not completely satisfied, but here it is.

The flower is barely the size of a dime. 

I am truly trying to learn how to use this new camera and I am learning but I realize I'm not nearly there. Still, I think I'm on the road to getting it. 

That is a chive blossom. Did you know that chives have blossoms? 

Here we have some roses.

I should probably do some reading on how all of this works. What I have found is that instead of bring the camera lenses close to an object and then tapping it to bring it all into focus, I have to bring the lens (just one) as close to the object as I can and have it focus there, then widen the image with the telephoto function. The image appears to stay in focus, even as I widen it, and that's what seems to work. 
It is so interesting. 

Good Lord. I better go make us some supper. 

Happy Friday, ya'll. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Now And Then

 There's a guy who's making a career doing little films and also appearances about Florida. The funky and the fantastic. The grit, the goofiness, and the gators. The unbelievable and the unbearable (insects, heat, pollen, hurricanes, and so forth). The absurd and the abnormal. The ridiculous and the realities. 

He goes by the name of OMGitswicks and his Youtube channel can be found here. 
His tagline is "Only in Florida. Just glad I got it on my flip phone." 

In almost every video he shoots, he's holding some product from Publix, usually either from the deli or bakery. Oddly, he does not have any sort of monetary relationship with them. He damn well should though. And he is right- Publix is very Florida. Started here and spread from there. Not unlike pythons although not in that bad snaky way. 

Today when I was headed to Melissa's to get my hair cut, I got behind that truck you see at the top and OMGitswicks' words came to my mind. 
I am sure there are other states in which you might see a pick-up truck with a black tarp in the back being held down by a watermelon and a pineapple but still...
Florida keeps Floridaing for sure. 
To top the the drive off as a true Florida experience, I was late to the appointment because traffic was slowed from three lanes to one on the main highway into town. The reason for the lane blocks was that the signs directing people to the Tallahassee International (hahahahahahahahahaha!) Airport were being switched out to the signs directing people to the Bobby Bowden Tallahassee International Airport. 
Now, YOU may have never heard of Bobby Bowden but if you're from Tallahassee you know beyond doubt who the man was. He was the football coach for the Florida State Seminoles forever and was regarded as a saint, a savior, and the best good ol' boy this country has ever produced. I will say that there was never even a whiff of a scandal about him despite the fact that he was a major "in the name of Jesus" sort of guy which is usually a red flag. 
Seriously, he was revered. He died in 2021 at the age of 91 and his name shall ne'er be forgot. 
DeSantis just signed the legislation two days ago making the new name official and I suppose that it was never in doubt that it would pass if the signs are already made and being put up. 

It's been a Florida day. As I suppose all of mine are for the most part. 

It was good to see Melissa. No, it was GREAT to see Melissa. I got to catch up on a lot of what's going on in her world. I'm not going to name names or shame names or blame names but I will say that the constant news about one of her husband's relatives is hardly to be believed. 
This person BOUGHT a hospital somewhere in Central America (I think) for a doctor who cared for this person's husband before he died, and for whom this person developed a strong friendship with.
And that is just one example. 
Her own husband, a man I met through blogging is truly one of the best people in the world, along with Melissa. They were childhood sweethearts, they lost track of each other, re-met in their forties, and here they are, together again. He is the man Hank and Rachel chose to officiate at their wedding.
It's a love story, y'all. And when I say "love," I don't just mean they love each other. I mean they are loved by all who know them. 

And oh yeah, she cut my hair. She agreed that I had lost some but that she, too, thinks it's growing back and not so bad. 
Did I mention how sweet she is? 
So she just took off some inches and it is now shorter than it has been in, well, many, many decades. 

I hate pictures of my face. That thing that looks like a zit there? It's not. It's just a zit-looking red spot. The main thing is that I can still put my hair up which was of utmost importance. I remember one time when Gibson was a little boy and I had my hair down which made him uncomfortable. He kept looking at me as if I might morph into a monster any second. I put it up again and he looked at me and said, "Now you look like the real Mermer." He was so relieved. 

Just for fun and because I am rather astounded, I will show you a picture of me from between thirty-five and forty years ago, I think. Glen was showing August and Levon pictures of him from his basketball career and found it. 

I'm pretty sure that was taken at the Gibson Inn in Apalachicola. The astounding thing to me is that I had no idea whatsoever that I was a fairly good-looking woman. I mean, I knew I wasn't ugly although all women (and possibly some men) may feel ugly at times. But the thing is, we cannot and do no see ourselves as others see us. Because I am no longer the same woman in that picture in so many ways, I look at it quite differently than I did then when I probably hated it. 
I remember that shirt which was a beautiful blue silk blouse. And the skirt was a long, longtime favorite of mine. I bought it from Tweeds, a catalog-only company as far as I know. I had several pieces of clothing from them, including two dresses that my friends and I shared around as we did back then. The silver bracelets I still have. 
The hair? I do not. 
Glen put the picture up on the refrigerator and I asked Levon if he didn't think I was pretty back then and he answered, as only the smartest and best men will, "You are still pretty." 
He was parroting his Boppie but that is okay. 
And I think I should use the reaction I have to that picture now as a lesson- I do truly hate to have pictures taken of my face now but if by some miracle I live to be eighty, I will probably look back at that picture I took of me today and think, "You had no idea how good you looked then."
As the saying goes, we will never be younger than we are today. 

Tomorrow I am staying home. I SWEAR! I could get up at the ass-crack of dawn and go up to the lake with Glen to check out the new floor but that is simply not going to happen. He can take pictures and send them to me. 

I feel so very behind in all of my chores and need-to-do's around here. I haven't even kicked bamboo since Sunday and god knows that is a big mistake. The truth is is that I haven't been feeling the best and I'm not sure why but perhaps tomorrow I will wake up feeling clearheaded and strong and positive in every way! 
And of course pigs will be flying out of my butt. 

Oh, oh! 
My today's picture with the new iPhone camera which does not have a macro lens. 

These are the extremely tiny blooms of a succulent I have growing in front of the window in the laundry room. 
Here's a picture which shows them more in scale. 

I am figuring out how to do this. 

Love...Ms. Moon

From Here To There And There To Here And All That Comes Between

When I get to Jessie's house on Wednesday mornings, Sophie greets me at the door. She doesn't bark at me except for a "Hello! Grandmer!" greeting. And she races to find a treasure to show me. Of course I always tell her how beautiful she is and how smart. Such a good girl. 

Pottery today was one of the quiet-type days. Or at least a little bit quiet. Everyone was concentrating on what we were doing for the most part, involved in our own projects. We did ask questions and offer advice and of course we praised each other's work. This is what we do. Our Lizzie was not there as she's been far, far away visiting one of her children and their family. We missed her of course. She will be back next week.

My latest fish spoon rest, the one I've made for Billy, was out of the kiln and I was quite happy with it. 

I love how each one I make is a little more sure of itself than the one I made before it, both in design and in colors. These fishes make me very happy and I am so enjoying making them. That first one I made was the thing that liberated me from feeling so very inadequate because my pottery was not anything like it was "supposed" to look but now I realize that it's not just "pottery," it's also ceramics. Today after I finished the work I needed to do on my hibiscus, I had just a few moments left in class and so I started a new fish. A smaller one. Not a spoon rest fish but one that will hang on a wall. My plan is to make several of them, similar in size but of different designs and colors with an attachment for hanging it on a wall. Before class was over I got it to the point where it can sit and dry so it can go into the kiln for a first firing next week although I MAY go by the studio and put it on the shelf for firing before then. I would like to. Same with my hibiscus which needs a little more drying time, especially the part that has the fancy stuff at top. Last time I tried to name those parts but I think I got gently corrected in a comment which is fine but I'm tired and not up to the challenge tonight. But you can see what I'm talking about here.

One would hardly think that very small piece took me well over an hour to do but indeed it did. I also added three marble-sized balls to the bottom to act as a base which took some experimenting to find where their placement should be because as Jessie pointed out, parts of the flower have a lot more clay and will tip it if I don't. 
"It's physics," she said. 
"Yes, and I failed physics," I answered. 
That is a lie. I did, however, get a D in the class. I believe it was the only D I ever got except for that semester at University of Denver where I crapped out entirely due to depression and, okay, possibly drug use. I will say that I think the drug use was completely related to the depression. I was self-medicating any way I could. And the fact that I'd moved in with a drug dealer had something to do with that too. 
Oh god. 
Well, it happened. I survived. And when I went back to nursing school in the eighties, I did quite well. 
Except for that damn D in physics. 

So that was pottery and then of course Jessie and I went to lunch which makes three days in a row I have gone to lunch and guess what? 
Good for me. 
We went to a Thai restaurant and I was so hungry I ordered not only a bowl of Tom Kha soup but also an entire entree with shrimp and eggplant and other delicious vegetables. And rice. 
About 70% of it is in my refrigerator right now. Good! That will be at least one, if not two more meals for me. 

I went to the library after I dropped off my girl and came home to find Mr. Moon in the yard, seemingly trying to free Billy's Paw-Paw's old tractor from the vines. 
It was at least 85 degrees out there. 
He'd spent hours trying to set up the new internet in the house and was done, done, done. He'd come to a river he could not cross and was as frustrated and furious as I was yesterday. As he was yesterday. 
And in an entirely different issue, he could not get Siri to speak to him and I have to tell you that Glen and Siri have a vocal communication relationship that I teeter on the edge of jealousy about.

He came in the house and cooled down and then together we figured out a few things and he took it all from there again and we now have a new internet service which seems very good and which is a lot less expensive. 
And he and Siri are back on speaking terms. 

The best thing is that he feels more confident about his abilities, as well he should. Technology can make all of us feel like demented dumb asses and we're not! 
Okay, maybe some of us are. I would hate to tell you how long it took me to figure out how to connect my hearing aids with their app on my new phone. And that's a whole other story. 

BUT, as I told my husband, change is always going to be hard and frustrating but we can and we will manage to figure it out. It may take the help of younger family members, tech-help lines, Googling to try and find an answer to our questions, and god knows what else. And that is okay.

I am so sorry I have not answered comments again today nor have I read and commented on all of your blog posts. Wednesdays start early and often end late. Throw in some new phone and internet problems which suck up so much time and, well, it is what it is. 

And so it goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Orchids at Jessie's house. 
I'm thinking this camera might just be okay.