Bless Our Hearts

Tuesday, July 23, 2024

At Least I Had A Long Walk

What a day! 

Going to the old, almost hidden cemetery was a nice part of it. But here- let me give you an idea of the way my morning went by telling you what I told Lis on the phone this morning when she called me as I was walking- "Sometimes I just hate this country!"
To which she replied, "This is why we don't walk around with blow torches in our pockets."

I started out by taking a walk. And when I went to take my walk I realized that the walking stick I've had for years which Mr. Moon made for me and which is perfect, was not here. I do believe I left it yesterday in the post office when I got so dang angry about the religious materials. So I decided to start my walk by going there to see if indeed I had left it behind and when I got there, it was nowhere in sight but the offending Jesus books were. Keisha wasn't there today but another woman who sometimes takes over the duties at the Lloyd office was, and after I asked her if anyone had found a walking stick and she said no, I said, "So, you know these religious materials out here are illegal to have in a post office, right?"
"I don't know anything about that," she said. "People just leave them there for other people to take home."
"Doesn't matter how they got there," I said. "It's illegal."
"I never heard of that," she said. "They don't bother me."
"Well, they bother me," I said, and repeated that they were illegal. "Look it up!" I told her. 
"I don't have time for that." Said the lady who was on a personal phone call when I walked in. 
She claimed she'd call her boss but I bet you a good amount of money she won't. I did not want to get into a screaming altercation so I left and was determined to find out where I could email a complaint which I did when I got home. 
But we're not there yet. 
As I soon as I walked out of the post office I turned to go north, which is not the way I usually go but that meant that I passed the house right across from the dump where the owners have two large flags adorning the gate posts of their lovely estate (that's sarcasm) which are upside down which is "secret code" for "Stop the Steal" and other Trump-supporting related bullshit. And by then, I was just simmering. Which did not hurt my walking pace! 
So I walked down to the road that leads to the horse farm, the road Miss Shelley lives on, a road which I have not been on in a long time but which is mostly populated by some of our Black neighbors where I settled down because they certainly do not have Trump signs of any sort in their yards. And it's a nice road. I decided to go visit the graveyard while I was there and so I did and that's where I took that picture up top. Here are a few more.

It's a tiny cemetery and as you can see, goes back to 1819. I am so curious about the Willie family who seems to be mostly buried there. What were their lives like? It's a sweet, shady place and I would not mind at all if my ashes were scattered there with my mortal remains near Eddie Boy's. 

And then I walked in the opposite direction to head down a path I always used to take through the woods which winds back to the old gas station across the street from the old truck stop (this is how we describe landmarks around here) which is on the road that leads me home. 
I had not taken that path in forever. It used to be well worn. It is no longer and in fact, I had to go by faith and instinct to get to the right cut off. I was wading through knee high weeds and grass but it wasn't so bad. And then I got to the back of the old gas station and I knew that someone had bought that property and I also knew there was a gate leading into and out of it but for some reason, I thought that it was one of those gates that you could, if you wanted to, go around on the side and indeed it was but there were trees mashed up against that part making it impossible. I could have climbed over the fence but come on- I am less than a week away from seventy. In a cow pasture, I would have been more apt to do it but this was right out in public on a main thoroughfare. I decided to cut through some pretty gnarly bushes to get to where I could exit the property and I did but good Lord, it was a mess. Briars, brambles, stickers, blackberries, vines that get the picture. I need to start walking with a machete in my pocket. If not a blow torch. I was sweating so hard that one of my ear pods fell out (yes, my ears sweat too) and I thought, "Well, okay, that's the cherry on top of the cowgirl," but I found it and somehow managed to get to the main road relatively unscathed except for scratches on my legs and arm. I was being stubborn and refused to backtrack all the way through the weeds and down the road which would been another mile. 

By the time I got home, I was bloody and sweaty and the color of a tomato. A Cherokee Purple tomato to be exact. I told Mr. Moon about my adventures and then I cooled off and then I went out to the garden and picked peas because I am tough. I am becoming as tough as an old pair of work boots. 
Which I also resemble at this point. 

And then I suggested to Glen that we go to the river and the day completely turned around because we did. There weren't very many people there and the ones who were were mostly well-behaved. Okay, there was a group of teen-aged boys and they did act like teen-aged boys but that was tolerable. 

We brought our old people folding canvas rocking chairs and put up an umbrella and we were set. We would get up and go dip in the freezing cold water and then return to our chairs and rock for a little while. As it always does when we're there on a summer afternoon, it started looking like rain with the sky getting gray and after awhile, a wind came up and the temperature dropped and the sky opened up and it began to pour down with drops as big as nails and everyone scrambled to get their things gathered and into their cars and off we all went, laughing and drenched in our shared adventure. 
Before that happened though, this dragonfly decided to perch on the back of my chair. 

I don't think I've ever seen a red dragonfly before. It was gorgeous. And then the funniest thing happened. I was showing Glen that very picture on my phone because the detail is pretty nice and as I was holding up my phone to show him...

Mr. Red Dragon decided to come and take a look himself. 
"Hold still!" Glen said and he took that picture. And then the beautiful creature flew away, having no idea that he had been a very sweet and magical part of my day. 

Back to the Post Office situation. As I said, I found a web site from which to lodge a complaint which I did and I've already gotten two notices via e-mail that my complaint was received and will be given the attention it deserves. 
I won't even bore you with the details of how Mr. Moon's lost phone has still never arrived here despite being informed by Dollar Rent A Car AND Fed Ex that it had been shipped via overnight delivery. And that was the end of the tracking history. 

What a funny world we live in. Well, I try to see it as funny but mostly it's a good idea that I don't carry a blow torch (or a machete) in my pocket. 

And I'm still really pissed at myself for losing my beloved walking stick.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, July 22, 2024

Tell Me What You Want, What You Really, Really Want

This plant grows in my neighbor's yard. It is known as abelia and I love its tiny flowers, the way the pink and the brown and the green all go together so sweetly. It is a member of the jasmine family. I first became familiar with it when I moved to Tallahassee and lived in a house with two other people, one of whom was a pianist in the music department of FSU who took me under her strong and beautiful wings and opened my eyes to so many things, including the abelia which grew in our yard and which I had never even noticed. Not once. 
Thank you, Paula.

So yes, I took a walk this morning. It was only eighty-something degrees but the humidity had hit 92% which- excuse me- is it even that humid underwater? Or in a sauna? I think a lot of the humidity is due to the rains we get in the late afternoons and the turning of all that rain moisture into steam. I doubt I am saying anything here that is of groundbreaking scientific importance. 
But oh, how green everything is right now. I will take the humidity over long weeks of no rain when the resurrection fern curls up, brown and stiff and the leaves on trees droop and sag and the grass turns brown and it just feels so very, very wrong. 

There is an oak tree next door to me that is absolutely magnificent. I have written about it before. I would imagine that it is at least five hundred years old. The circumference of its trunk is enormous and its spread covers half the sky above it. 

No way for me to get any sort of accurate scale in a picture. But this morning it just seemed so powerfully alive, so vital and so strong that I had to at least try to take its picture. 

In my opinion, gods and goddesses look like this tree. Gods and goddess ARE this tree.

Speaking of a god, the Christian god in this instance, look what I found when I went into the post office today. 

This enrages me. It is not unusual to find a stack of Christian themed pamphlets in there but this is so over the top that I can't believe it. The Lloyd post office is very small. You walk in and on your right and straight ahead of you are boxes with the old-fashioned dial locks on them, on the wall to the far right past the boxes on that side is the counter where the postal worker sells stamps or puts postage on packages or whatever, and on the left wall, is that two-level counter. There is also a trash can. That's it. And to find that counter completely covered with a veritable library of White Jesus books pushed me over the edge. 
First off, it's illegal. Look it up. I did. It is illegal to display or distribute religious materials in a United States Post Office, punishable by up to 30 days in jail. 
Secondly- oh, who cares? It's just wrong. 
So what did I do about it? I did nothing. I came home and I pondered the situation. I have a strong feeling that the new postmistress may have actually put the books out herself. I do not know this for sure but she must have at least noticed them out there. She was on the phone when I was there and I really didn't want to disturb her (it sounded like she was trying to get the internet situation dealt with so that people can use their debit cards to mail packages and buy postage) and she has been so sweet to me but I have to say something. I could, I suppose, go back when the PO shuts down services at noon, but is open for people to get their mail and see if the books are still there, pick them all up and take them to the dump. 
That does not seem like the proper thing to do though. I assume that the materials were placed there for people to take home if they wanted but still- we're not talking about some poorly made tracts on cheap paper. There are real books in there. Hardbacks, some of them. 
So I need to go back tomorrow and if they are still there, I need to talk to Keisha and ask if she knows they're there, and also, if she knows it's illegal to have them there. 

I realize that part of my anger is more honestly directed at the political situation going on right now. And some of that is seeing what's happening in Florida under the most cruel of Republican governors. Things like banning fine and award-winning books from school libraries because they mention the possibility that not everyone is white, straight, and Christian. Because two male penguins raised a baby together in a zoo. Because the topic of slavery might make white people uncomfortable. 
So I'm not having it. Tomorrow I will pull up my Leslie Jones, Big Girl panties and go have a chat with our postmistress. If the books are still there. 

All is not sturm und drang, however. Yesterday my kids asked me what I want to do for my birthday and I thought about that honestly and I said, "I want to go to the Ocean Grill for lunch and Wasabi for supper." 
The Ocean Grill is a restaurant in Vero Beach. A restaurant so old that I went there as a child and which has a history which is richer and more interesting than that of some countries. Wasabi is a little Thai, Sushi restaurant in a strip mall in Roseland/Sebastian that has some of the very best food I've ever eaten. 
Of course, this would involve me actually going to Roseland and/or Vero and I e-mailed my beloved landlord down there to see if the little cabana with the pink kitchen beside the pool with the four spitting lions was available and it is not. However, he has another little house that he bought and restored and decorated in his own magical, old Florida way and it too has a pool, although tinier. It is right across the street from the Sebastian River and Glen and I can go watch the sunset from the community dock which is the newest version of the same dock I fished from as a kid and my husband can throw a line into the water. The house is really only a few houses down from where my Granny and Granddaddy lived and where I lived too, for awhile. 
I am so excited. We're not leaving until two days after my birthday but when you're seventy years old, what does that matter? 

Would you LOOK at that lampshade? I may never come home. 

I better go cook some supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sunday, July 21, 2024

I Do Not Know Shit

Now I know that Linda Sue's yard is a virtual mommy/baby playground and nursery for all the deer in her Washington neighborhood, but I have never seen a deer in this yard despite the fact that they are everywhere around here. Lily had so many deer in her former yard that the dogs quit barking at them but this morning I looked up from my seat on the back porch to see that little doe nibbling away at some weeds on the fence line. I have no idea why but she just made my heart happy with her presence. Every now and then she'd startle and look up, and then return to her nibbling. Finally I went and got Mr. Moon to come and see her and she didn't leave but a few minutes later, she sensed us looking at her and faded back into the woods. 

It was a nice beginning to a day. 

I have been missing my chickens so much. Not sure why but I am. And then the other day I saw a short video of a rooster tidbitting for his hens and I could hardly stand it. Tidbitting is a behavior of roosters wherein when they find something really good to eat they make sounds that the hens know means that he has something for them. He lays the treat on the ground and lets them eat it and sometimes they even take it from his mouth. Of course it's all based on the fact that he wants their love (and when I say love I mean sex) but it's beautiful to watch. They know they have to earn that love. Roosters are so protective of their hens and keep watch over them all day long. They have specific warning vocalizations for different threats and the whole flock understands them. 

The best rooster we ever had, Elvis, watching over some of his ladies. 

When Elvis and Owen were both young. They were curious about each other, as you can see and they were friends. 

Oh. I could go on for days about the amazing ways of chickens. 
I'll just say that yard chickens have been one of the great joys of my life. 

So. Here we are. Biden did indeed step aside. 
I don't know what to say or even what to think. I do know that when I watched the debate I was shocked and horrified at the changes I saw in Biden. This does not mean I would not have supported him. He has done good things in his term as president and he has my undying respect. Of course, he's done some not-so-great things too, as have all presidents, but overall, I think he's been a good leader and he certainly has the requisite experience and knowledge of how things are done in Washington. 
But. That is over and done with as of today and as I'm sure all of you know, he has endorsed his vice president, Kamala Harris as the Democratic candidate. 
I think she'd make an excellent president and I hope with all my heart she gets the chance to prove that. 
But you know what? I have no idea if that will happen or not. Things have not been normal or right or predictable since Trump threw his slimy red made-in-China ball-cap in the ring in 2015. 
So basically, right now, I do not want to talk about it or think about it either. As I said, I really can't. 
I keep coming back to the unwelcome and horrifying idea that this country has a huge population of racist, homophobic, cult-loving idiots. 

And so, at this point in time, I'm going to keep looking up. Not in the "Oh let's be cheerful!" sense but in the actual sense. Look up and notice the Spanish moss, the resurrection fern that is so happily unfurled and green on the branches of the oak tree because of the rain we've gotten in the last few days. 

I can't do a damn thing to control the outcome of this election except to vote and that I will do. 

I guess that's it for today.

Love...Ms. Moon

Saturday, July 20, 2024

A Story About A Storyteller

The kidney stone has been quiet today. I slept over nine hours last night. I just conked right on out. Jack didn't come in to keep me company and of course, Mr. Moon was at the coast. So it was just me and my dreams and I don't even remember them. 

The guys did not go fishing today. They got up, checked the weather, and decided to call it. It's the season of afternoon thunderstorms and if you're snug at home they are a wonder and a glory but if you're out on the water, they can be a scary danger. I remember one time, a long time ago, Mr. Moon had a business partner named Chuck who asked us to go scalloping with him and his wife on their boat and we did indeed go. Now Chuck was a storyteller. Sometimes his stories were for pure entertainment and I am here to say that he did have some interesting relatives and had lived an interesting life, and although he may have embellished and embroidered some of those stories, it only served to make them all the more entertaining. 
However, sometimes his stories were what I have come to believe were tall tales. As with every tall tale, there is usually a tiny germ of truth within the story and many of Chuck's stories centered around many of the flights he'd made. Now he really was a pilot. This is completely true. He flew a small plane. But did he really fly it to Cuba where adventures ensued? 
Who knows? 
He also thought himself to be a very fine judge of the weather. Almost a meteorologist who could predict weather and where storms would go after they arose and so forth. We were out on that boat and scalloping season is in the late summer and one of our afternoon storms began building in the sky, fairly far away. But when you're on the water, you can see storms and being able to judge wind direction and speed and all that stuff is helpful indeed when it comes to staying out of their path. 
So that storm was getting pretty gnarly-looking and the sky was turning that sort of bruise shade of gray and green that does not bode well but Chuck was CERTAIN that it was going to pass to the south of us. Or east or one of those directions. I can't remember. He kept reassuring us while Glen and I kept giving each other the side-eye and by the time it became absolutely apparent that no, the storm was not going to pass us by, it was too late to get back to shore. 
There was, however, a very small island that looked like a reasonable distance away and so off we headed towards it. I don't know if you've ever been in a boat in a storm on the ocean but it is a frightening thing. You've got your thunder and your lightning and your wind and your waves, all coming together to create a...well...a perfect storm. And it's scary as shit. The boat's bouncing up and down and water's pouring in and the rain is like needles drenching you and the lightning is threatening to turn you into a piece of burnt toast.
But we did make it to the island as had other boats. And on the island, there was an old abandoned something. Some sort of building that had no walls but formed a sort of shelter that everyone had crowded into. And at first, no one knew what to say except to comment on the storm and talk about how suddenly it had come up and stuff like that but we were all sort of uncomfortable, being mashed up together with strangers, trying to stay safe and everyone was a little shaky from the experience of being out on the water where things had seemed so perilous. 
And then the true and real Chuck came out and he started telling stories of storms he'd lived through and close encounters with almost-death that he'd lived through going through the storms and uncles and cousins who had been in storms, and before we knew it, everyone was laughing and gasping and we were all in it together and that was fine. 
Chuck had done that. 
And that's what a storyteller does. And if a storyteller is, by very nature, a bit of a prevaricator, we may have to excuse him, knowing that exaggerations and editing are but part of his process. There is a line though, which when crossed results in actual lying. Am I calling Chuck a liar? 
Well, yeah, sometimes he was. But that day on that little island with those huddled people, shivering from being wet and also from having been terrified, Chuck brought us all relief and entertainment with his calm southern Georgia man's drawl, with his dry delivery and his excellent storytelling skills. 
And that's worth remembering. 
Eventually, the storm did pass, the rain stopped, the sun decided to show its face again and everyone made it back to their boats, started them up, and headed back to shore. 
That was a day I'll never forget. 

I don't recall whether we got any scallops or not but I sort of think we didn't. 

So those beautiful sliced tomatoes up there were salted and draining to make another tomato pie. There are at least four or five varieties of tomatoes in that picture including the Berkeley Tie-Dye, the Nebraska Wedding, Cherokee Purple, and some sort of Roma that I can't remember right this second. 

There's the pie. Doesn't look very impressive but I bet it'll be fine to eat. 

I finished "Leslie Fucking Jones" and my main take-away after thirteen hours of listening to a lot of her entertaining stories was to absolutely understand the importance of standing up for our own true selves. And the only way to do that is to learn who our own true selves are. And to love and respect those selves because we are the only one of them there is, and although we may not be anywhere near perfect, we are human and we matter. Also, we should be standing up for others who need to be stood up for. Not putting up with any motherfuckin' bullshit, I guess would be how Leslie Fucking Jones would put it. 
She is a force of nature. And that's the truth. 

Still raining. Going to go boil some shrimp. Mr. Moon decided to go to the gym a few hours ago and he'll be back in a little while. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday, July 19, 2024

Oh, The Miracle Of Exercise!

After having begun walking again, I am happy to report that the problem I was having with my foot is completely resolved. No pain, no swelling. 
I am not thrilled to report that the knee that was bothering me so much is still bothering me but may be a little better. However, the other knee hurts now too.
And what I am completely pissed-off to report is that it would appear that the exercise has triggered movement of the kidney stone that is still in my right kidney and it is starting to ache. 
Thanks, exercise!
It's nowhere near the level 10 plus agony that a kidney stone can produce but it's there. It is definitely there, biding it's time. I know this feeling. I know what it is. I am not happy. The last time I went to see the urologist to talk about getting it blasted and my urine was "pristine" he ordered a scan and the radiology place never called and the discomfort I was having drifted away and so I just...let it go. And of course I'm hoping that the discomfort this time will do the same. But will it get worse if I walk? 

Knowing that Glen was going to the coast tonight to possibly fish tomorrow, I did not dare do anything to promote the movement of the stone and so I did not take a walk. I don't think that I'll wake up in agony tonight and want to be taken to an ER but I'm not going to do anything that might increase the odds of that happening. Plus, the humidity was almost 90% again today and I just could not force myself, even without the worry about that rock in my side. 
I didn't work in the garden, either. Hanging the sheets was about the most physical thing I've done all day. I spent a lot of time shelling peas. 

Good Lord willing and the creek don't rise and if I don't end up needing morphine between now and then, I'll finish shelling the few I didn't get to today and blanch and freeze them. 

I started watching the first episode of Season Three of Reservation Dogs and I cannot stand the thought that this is it for the seasons. I got Glen interested in the show and now we're watching it together, starting back at Season One so I am immersed in it and that does not make me unhappy. I am almost giddy, watching the episodes I've already watched. "Oh, this is a good one!" I'll tell my husband. I think I say that every night. And to me, they truly are all very special. Not a dud among them. 

So yep, the man is on his way to the coast again. Now let me tell you how his day went. He got up at 5:30 a.m., drove to Apalachicola, which is a couple of hours away, picked up the guy buying the Subaru he was selling for his friend, took the guy to the credit union in Tallahassee where he was getting his loan, then to the tag agency. Then they came out here, the guy took possession of his new car, and I think they were both very happy. When Mr. Moon came in the house he said, "I really like that guy," and I know he did. The fellow lives down in Aplach where he studies rare animals (I think) and his girlfriend studies birds. He lived for a month on Cozumel and so he and Glen traded stories about my precious island. 

At this point it was after two o'clock and Glen hadn't eaten so I heated up some grouper I made a few nights ago and made him a fine grouper sandwich with cheese and tomatoes and then he went and sat in his chair for a little while. I hope he caught a little nap. He really is not sleeping well. 
He offered to stay home in case I needed him but I told him that I'd call if I did (hurray for cell phones!) and I wouldn't let it get to the point of agony before I did that. So he packed up and hit the same road he took this morning. and off he went. 
"Be safe, be safe, be safe, be safe!" I said. Just to make sure he understood. 

I have to tell you a funny story that happened this morning. The routine with the wet cat food has become part of the day here. When my cheese and tomato toast (my regular breakfast) is in the toaster oven, Jack knows it's time and comes in and makes sure I remember what I'm supposed to do. I get the little can of food and I smush up the pill and mix it in with about a tablespoon of food and by that time, Maurice is usually in the kitchen too because she knows the routine as well as Jack and I do. I give her an equal amount to what Jack got in her bowl and this has been working well. He eats his, she eats hers.

This morning, however, after I put their food down, I went to the bathroom to pee and Maurice came in to the room and meowed at me and I knew exactly what she was saying. 
"Is Jack eating your treat?" I asked her. 
She meowed in the affirmative. She then led me back to her bowl where yes, Jack was chowing down on her portion and I fussed at him and got out the spray bottle which by this point, I don't even need to use. He sees it and darts. I may have to keep a closer watch on proceedings, spray bottle in hand for a few days. I just think it's so funny that Maurice told on him, exactly as a child would tell on a sibling who stole part of a treat which was rightfully theirs. And having raised four kids, I needed no translation. 
Justice will be done!

I'm sipping on my Friday night martini. I have clean sheets on my bed. I just watched a hawk soar across my backyard as he does every night. I'm pretty sure it's a juvenile but he can sure raise a racket. A bluejay is unwisely yelling at him and I hear thunder again off to the south. Seems like every day we get a promise of rain that the thunder makes but cannot keep. 
I'm going to make myself a miniature chicken potpie with the cutlet I didn't cook last night when I made our garlic-lemon chicken with cherry tomatoes. I'm going to put carrots and peas in that thing, onions and green beans. I will not forget the potato or the rosemary and oregano.

Instead of a pastry crust, I'll do a little biscuit thing on top because it's so easy to do and I'll bake it in the toaster oven. 

Comfort food. 

Happy Friday, y'all. May we all sleep painlessly and wake up the same way. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, July 18, 2024

A Typical Day In My World

Here's Ms. Maggie, enjoying her cheese pizza last night. She had decided that maybe it wasn't cheddar cheese that she liked but she managed to choke down a few pieces anyway. That child! She did not want to go to sleep. Usually I put her to bed and by the time I'm ready to take my shower and get in bed to read, she's sound asleep but last night, she was not. And she fussed about the light being on which I understood and so I turned it off and I'm not sure which of us fell asleep first. 

She still got up before I did and she was quite ready for her breakfast of eggs and toast, which is what she had requested. No pancakes or bacon for her. Eggs and toast. I reminded her of when she was a little bitty girl and every time she'd walk in the door here she'd want me to cook her an egg. Of course we had chickens then and so the eggs were especially delicious. We were talking about that and she said, "I hate that fox that ate all your chickens." 
I sort of do too although he was just doing his fox thing. I miss my lovely birds. 

Glen got up and out earlier than usual this morning. Marble Making-Tattoo'ed Guy who was supposed to get his phone up and running last night finally admitted defeat and left and so Glen had to get to Verizon this morning to see if they could do it and he had to meet a friend at the hospital whose father had had a stroke and this also coincided with the selling of a car for the same friend in which paperwork needed to be signed. He had about a thousand places he needed to be today and I reminded him to breathe when he left which I'm sure just helped a lot. When he's worried or anxious I get worried and anxious for him. 

Maggie and I played a round of the matching game and I talked her into letting me read her two pages of "The Little Princess" which I adored as a child. I have the original copy I owned that my grandfather gave to me. She patiently listened to the two pages and that was plenty for her. I thought perhaps it would wet her thirst a little for the story but no, it did not. It's a different generation and honestly, the book was so very dated when I read it but that didn't bother me. Reading was my life and it was an excellent story and I have no idea how many times I reread it. Finally, it was time for her to go home and although I know she had a good time here, she was ready to be back in her own nest, I think. She was a very good girl besides the not falling asleep thing but she didn't do that on purpose. I guess she just wasn't sleepy. At one point this morning she did tell me that she thought her other grandmother was wiser than I am which I thought was hysterical. Not because I think I'm wiser than she is, but because Maggie would say that. There wasn't even any context for the remark as far as I can remember but it may have something to do with her other grandmother believing in god, which of course, I do not. I told her that I figured that her other grandmother is wiser in some things and I am wiser in others. 

When I took her home, I wanted to go by Publix to pick up a prescription and then I took the interstate home. The clouds were amazing. 

"Look up!" Ross always said and I do. Oh, I do. 

This afternoon I picked the garden again. It was quite overcast and for awhile, rain had threatened so it was a tiny bit cooler. Still, I got as sweaty as I always do. The humidity here is 88% today. 
I'm expecting those gills to start forming any minute now. 

Just when I thought the green beans were definitely done, this happened. 

I thought the cherry tomatoes were about exhausted too but I wanted to make a chicken recipe that called for two cups of them so I gathered what I could and I think I have plenty. I picked zinnias too, to bring into the house. Look at that color on this one. 

It is the palest pink, but almost has a tinge of gray in it. Ashes of roses? I don't know but I surely do love it. 
I picked a huge amount of crowder peas and field peas, too. That has to be my next project. Those I freeze because they freeze so beautifully. I just blanch them, cool them, and put them in freezer bags in serving sizes. I'm going to cook some tonight though. 

So. The question of the day- did Mr. Moon get his phone activated? 
YES! Yes he did! It took the Verizon tech quite awhile but they got it done. Meanwhile, he filled out one more form on the Dollar Rent A Car site about knowing that his phone was in the Las Vegas airport office, there being a claim number on it, but no one was responding to the situation. 
Within an hour, he'd gotten an email back and the phone should be arriving any moment now. Problem is, when it was shut down, it was immediately made illegal to sell in the US. No problem for Mr. Moon, though! When he goes up to Canada to hunt this fall, he will be selling it to his friend Gary who lives there. 

But the important thing is, he has a phone and when he goes fishing this weekend, I'll feel so much better knowing that he'll call me when the boat gets in and tells me they're all safe. And knowing that I can call him if I need him. 

One last thing. 
I am listening to this book. 

I absolutely guarantee that you will never, ever read another book with so much profanity in it. She profanes so much that I feel like I need to go to Profanity Training Boot Camp. Ms. Jones is a comic and I really knew nothing about her until I listened to a podcast in which she was a guest. She intrigued me and I put her book on hold on my library audio book app and it's like listening to a 13 hour performance by the woman. My Lord, but she has worked her ass off to get where she is today. She is bigger than life, six feet tall, and she laughs and she cries and she probably says, "Motherfucker" in at LEAST every other sentence. It's completely different than most of the books I read either with eyes or ears but it is a rich story of one Black woman's journey to succeed in a career which has historically been made up mostly of men, and those mostly white. There have been many famous and successful Black male comics but Leslie was one of the first Black women to break through all the different sorts of prejudice. 
I'm learning a lot. 

I'll be back tomorrow with even more wisdom, I'm sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

Cheddar. She Wants Cheddar Cheese On Her Pizza

 I'd say excuse the mess but hell, that's what the kitchen island looks like most of the time anyway. We clear and tidy it every evening before bed but it's a work area and everything ends up on it eventually. 
As you can see, Ms. Magnolia is here and what she and Mr. Moon are doing is looking at a marble that was made by the guy who gave it to her, whose name is James and HE IS THE PHONE GUY! Now this phone is not Glen's phone. Well, it is now. But it's the insurance replacement phone and he's helping Glen get it set up. He gave Maggie the marble because she wanted to know who he was and when I introduced them, he reached in his pocket and got out that marble and told us that he blows glass on the side. I told Maggie that could be her lucky charm. 

Poor Glen. He has had a hell of a time of it. For whatever reason, this morning he could not access his G-mail on his laptop because he'd somehow signed out and had no idea what his account password was and he finally said, "Fuck this shit," and took his laptop and his problems into town where he was going to buy a refurbished phone from a guy that one of his friends uses but that guy ended up not only helping him get signed back into his G-mail, he also helped him get the help he needed with the insurance situation and so obviously, he is our new best friend. 
Besides James of course. 
And also of course, Glen has no idea what his password for the Cloud is either but I reckon they'll figure it out somehow. 
When they do, I'll be reunited with my phone full-time and not getting calls from the guy buying the Subaru, or the fishing buddy, or texts about getting estimates for other cars. All that stuff. 

Perhaps life will return to a sort of normal again. 

I picked up Maggie at her mama's house around one and visited with Lily and Gibson and Nico who is now at that stage of kittenhood where the small creature has lost all of its baby-ness and just looks like a perfect miniature cat. She is so black and so sleek and I love her to pieces. Owen was off with friends at a river so I didn't get to see him. And then Maggie and I went to lunch and she picked Chow Time and I was hoping she would. 
She ate mostly sushi and chicken on a stick and dessert. I do not think a vegetable was consumed except for the seaweed in the miso soup which she loves. I ate some vegetables and some other stuff but didn't get too crazy with it. We talked and talked and talked. I bet she asked me, "And you know what?" at least fifty times and every time I answered, "NO! What?!" She told me about the trip they just took to see Lauren's parents and I know all about Mama Goat and how scary she is and many other things of interest. They did SO much swimming. 

When we got home we did a little garden picking which Maggie appeared to tolerate better than I did. The humidity is ridiculous. I feel like I need to grow some accessory gills. I took a short walk this morning and once again, I'm just proud of myself for getting out at all. The crowder peas are really coming in and we're still getting tomatoes. Maggie told me she likes me to show her things in the garden because maybe one day she'll want to have a garden. 
Which is like music to my ears. 

And how I love it when I find things like this.

Boppy played some cards with her and she loved that. She adores her grandfather. 
She wants a cheese pizza for supper tonight which surprised me but cheese pizza she shall have. The dough is rising and she is going to help me roll it out. 

And that's been my exciting day. 

I've barely looked at the news all day and that's been fine. 

I'd rather look at Magnolia June. 

And now I'm signing out. There are vegetables to chop and cheese to grate. Maggie may be getting a cheese pizza but her grandfather and I would like a little more than that on ours. And tomato sauce is a vegetable, right? 

Love...Ms. Moon