Fretting, Fearing, And Generally Being Ridiculous

My pictures of the zinnias really do not adequately represent the abundant colorful happiness of their blossoms in the garden. I need to start cutting more of them because that makes them bloom more profusely and I do love them in vases but somehow seeing them growing outside with their faces to the sun and open to the pollinators makes me happier. But if I must cut them, then cut them I will. 
Or, some. 
I hardly ever cut the phlox either which is starting to show off. 

It's blooming in the sunnier locations and the ones in the shade will soon be following. 

The garden is in a bit of a stall right now. The tomatoes are still fruiting but the beans are definitely on the downslide. I picked enough today for a pot of them for our supper and I am still not tired of them in the least. I'll cook these with some of those gnarly potatoes we grew. 
I hardly saw any aphids today on the field peas so perhaps the soapy spray helped a little. Who knows? 
Not me.
Like I said yesterday I am going to try and restrain myself from picking those green podded pearls until they are nice and truly fat, just starting to turn yellow. And then I'll be just like the memaws of old who sat on the front porch with a basket of peas at her feet and a bowl in her lap to shell her peas. 
Except of course I'll be in the Glen Den with the AC and TV on. 
Same-same though, right? 
Here are my two favorite vegetables in the garden right now.

As in, I have two specific vegetable favorites which is not like saying, "Oh, the cucumbers are my favorite vegetables in the garden right now." (They are not.) This pepper is without a doubt the biggest, glossiest bell pepper I've ever grown in my life and I'm fairly sure is the only one which will actually reach the red stage before the bugs eat it. 

And here we have that same white eggplant. It's the only one of its kind. So far. I can't wait until it's big enough to pick and I will make Granny Matthew's eggplant casserole with it which is one of my favorite things in the world. I have several beautiful, shiny purple eggplants getting bigger by the day and am still getting the pretty little fairytale eggplants. I have discovered that those are excellent cut up into a sauce for pasta or stewed with tomatoes and onions as a side dish. I suppose I could use them to make a miniature eggplant parmesan and wouldn't that be adorable? 
My clown peppers are also cheering me up. I'm not sure why but their little tri-lobed shapes seem so comedic, so silly. Some of them are starting to color up, showing signs of going from their bright lime green color to the red they're supposed to achieve at maturity. 

Mr. Moon is home from the seas although not this home. Not yet. He's off the water and at his friend Alan's house at the coast where they are cleaning both the boat and I assume and hope, some fishes. I'll see him when I see him. I will be glad to have him home. I am feeling some anxiety this evening and I'm not sure why exactly, although I have a few ideas. I have some upcoming events which are causing me what I would call, if not panic, then at least fairly serious anxiety. None of these events are going to be truly stressful, at least for a normal person but for me, they roil my brain and belly. There are things I need to do which are pretty far out of the boundaries of my comfort zone and I work so hard to avoid that. It's ridiculous but it's the truth. 

I'm also anxious about the fact that I have nothing to give Glen for his birthday. Not a thing. Even the card I bought him (at Publix, of course) is ridiculous. The choices for birthday cards for men and specifically husbands are few. Of course I could make one but I won't. I did go into town to check out the thing I thought might be appropriate for his cabin but it was not at all what I thought it was and so no. It is almost impossible for me to get him a gift. Anything he wants or needs, he simply gets. Art to go on the walls of the lake house would be nice but art is such a subjective thing and I have known him long enough to be certain that our tastes differ vastly. I've always said that if he had his way, our bathrooms would have wallpaper borders that matched the shower curtains and that is certainly never going to happen anywhere I live while I still have breath in my body. Plus I think he may be a little over that at this point. 

I bought the last two out of the three quarts of strawberries at Publix today because he had said earlier this month that he would really like a strawberry shortcake and if I'm going to do it, now's the time. I had thought about making him a German chocolate cake which is what I made for him on the first birthday of his we were together, but the Father's Day dessert was (and still is) so very chocolately and rich that I thought that might be redundant. 

I guess the bottom line is that I simply feel inadequate right now. I do not feel strong and capable. I feel weak and incapable. 
I feel fearful. 
And isn't that what anxiety is all about? Perhaps depression is too. 
I don't know. 
I do know I need to pull up my big-girl panties and get on with what must be done.
Sigh. Why is everything so damn hard for some of us while for others it appears that the very same things are just part of life, easily done, nothing to be worried about. 
I do not know. 

Yet we persevere, do we not? 

Yes. And generally, almost always, we are so glad we did. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Should Have Let That Spider Live

 I am extremely nearsighted. EXTREMELY! So when I get in bed without my glasses I really can't see shit. Well, I can but it's all blurry. But who cares? What do I need to see in bed? Thankfully, my close vision is fine and I can still easily read which is my main bed activity when I'm not sleeping and I don't need 20/20 vision to tell the difference between a 6 and a half foot tall man and a small orange cat. 
So last night I was in bed reading, waiting for Mr. Moon to get out of the shower when I happened to glance up to see a black blob right in the place where the ceiling and wall meet. I could not distinguish one detail but I knew it was not something that was usually there. It was completely still for a moment but then it did what I was afraid it was going to do which was to begin moving and slowly, slowly, it was headed my way. I picked up my phone and did the best telephoto shot I could and it confirmed my suspicion that I was watching a fairly enormous spider make its way towards the bed. 
Now look. I am not an arachnophobe by any means. I don't have a problem with spiders and I have a great affection for our golden orb weavers. But they generally stay outside where spiders are supposed to stay. I have never been a SMASH IT! SMASH IT! kind of girl but for some reason, this spider was creeping the fuck out of me. 
I could hear the shower turn off and knew that Glen would soon be coming into the room but I didn't want to wait for him to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HUSBANDS ARE FOR AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED! So I yelled through the door that there was a giant spider and could he please come deal with it and because he's a gentleman, he did.
He was naked but not afraid. 
He said, "I need a broom." As tall as Glen is, our ceilings are much taller and that spider was still up there pretty far. So I told him where the nearest broom was because he has no idea where all the brooms live. He probably didn't even realize that the main broom is not the only one I have stashed around here for emergency sweeping. So he got the broom and he brushed the poor creature off the wall and I did not plead with him to just trap it and take it outside which is what I generally do when there are small beings in the house that don't belong here. No, I did not do that. I let him kill it. I wanted him to just get that over with and not get into some sort of fancy dance, trying to trap the thing and perhaps letting it go free because I would have to go sleep in the guest room if I knew it was anywhere in our room. 

I guess killing that Georgia Thumper last week put me on the slippery slope to plain old random murder and I am not proud of that but there you go. And here we are. I know damn well that spider wasn't going to attack me and that it wasn't a poisonous spider (although all spiders have venom of some sort, most do not generally use it) and the odds of it hurting me were about one in a million. 
I was bitten by a brown recluse once on an extremely sensitive part of my body and that bite literally dissolved the skin on the sensitive part and took a very long time to heal but this spider was not a brown recluse. 

So that happened last night and it took me awhile to get to sleep but of course eventually I did and no further threatening situations arose although Maurice did get in bed with me but as long as I don't try to pet her, I know she won't bite me so we just cuddled and that was nice. 

I really need to get a life.

So. Mr. Moon did not leave on Tuesday the way he had planned. Did I tell you that or not? I can't remember. He got so busy with Tom's dealings that he realized he didn't have the time or energy to spend on laying flooring so he stayed home. He did leave this afternoon for the coast to go deep sea fishing tomorrow. I believe this makes him happier than just about anything in this world and I am so glad he gets to do that. 

My day was a total wipeout. I hung the sheets on the line but it rained before they were completely dry so I had to bring them in and finish them up in the dryer which is not a big deal and certainly nothing more than a slight inconvenience. And hardly that. 
But I couldn't settle on anything. I was going to go to town to take two necklaces to a jewelry repair place. I also wanted to go back to the thrift store I went to on Wednesday to possibly get Glen something I'd seen he could hang on the wall of the cabin. I couldn't really see it that well as it was crammed in behind some other things but from what I could see, it might be something he'd like. I'd describe it to you but if I get it, I'll post a picture and that will be a lot better. Glen's birthday is on Monday and once again, I haven't done a thing. He still hasn't finished the delicious dessert thing I made for Father's Day but one must bake one's husband a cake for his birthday, right? 
Or something. 
And oh, I did not go to town because just as I was planning to leave, the heavens opened up and we got a miniature repeat of the storms we had the other day. By the time that had passed, I'd lost any momentum I might have had and just worked on my jigsaw puzzle instead. 
I did my little daily tour of the garden and as is generally true, it was the best part of my day. 

The roses are coming along with a second bloom. 

They are always a joy. 

They're untamed with a mind of their own which suits me fine. I cut them back once a year on no particular schedule and they reward my neglect with those hot shots of scarlet. Too red to really photograph as if that color sucks up all the energy around it which is too much for the camera to bear.

I sprayed a few more aphids but of course the rain that came later washed off all the soapy mixture I'd sprayed. 
Sigh. 

Here's a field pea blossom. It's quite large, actually. 

It's a thick blossom, almost waxy. Quite impressive and I do love those tiny yellow markings which look to me like aerial directions for the pollinators so they lose no time in finding the real center of importance. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure why human women do not have a similar situation going on. I think that relations between the sexes might be a little easier and better for the enjoyment of all if there were. 

I jumped the gun and picked a few of the pea pods and shelled them so that you can get an idea of what these delicious little gifts of protein, fiber, and flavor look like. 

I have to let them get more mature than that before picking them because when they're that size they take forever to shell and besides that, the bigger they are, the more bang for the buck you're getting. They'll still be delicious. 
But aren't those babies just gorgeous little gems of the dirt? 
Yes. Yes they are. And those will not go to waste. I am going to heat up the ones we ate a few nights ago which I grew, shelled, and froze last year and I will throw these in with them. They won't take long to cook, being so young and tender. 

I have not commented on the political situation in awhile and I'm not going to tonight, either. Things have reached a point of absurdity that I cannot even believe, much less try and make sense of here. I was about to link a piece I read today in The New Yorker about three brothers who have made fortunes trafficking and abusing women in the most horrendous ways imaginable, bragging about that, and making videos about how YOU TOO can use women to make yourself a very rich man. This would all be horrendous enough but they are great friends of Barron Trump, Donald Trump, Jr., and yes, even demented big daddy dingdong. Yes. I was about to link it but I figured that since it's so long an article and the story has hardly peeked its nose out from the behind the curtain of what we call journalism today, I would not. 
Oh. What the hell. 
Please do not feel bad if you don't want to read it or simply don't have the time. 

There truly is no bottom to the evil, is there? 

Nope. There is not. 

But hey! Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Day

I ordered this puzzle in a moment of extreme optimistic belief that I will, at some point, this year or another, finish the puzzle I started a week ago on my new puzzle board. I remembered a puzzle I had done some years back which I remember so fondly and thought perhaps I could find another one in the same style or genre. It had given me such a feeling of joyfulness. Somehow, I found that puzzle's picture on my blog, google-lensed it, found out what company had made it and went to their site and ordered this one. It is not at all like the one of people dancing I had liked so much but it's quirky and interesting and I like it. 
Here is the picture of that original one from my blog.

Although I will take on a 1000 piece, a 500 piece one is much better suited to my abilities. 

Anyway, I knew the puzzle I'd just ordered had arrived at the post office so I walked over there this morning and retrieved it. Ms. T was behind the counter and it was so good to see her. I so rarely go to the post office any more. We are getting most of our mail here at the house now but things still do go to the PO address. 
Another lady I am familiar with was talking to Ms. T. when I got there. This lady is one of the only other walking exercisers I've seen in Lloyd. She is a darling woman and I swear, she could be eighteen but seeing as how she's looked the same for twenty years I don't believe that's possible. She asked me flat-out why she hasn't seen me out walking and I told her that I just have not been doing it and I'm not sure why. She was a bit disconcerted. "But you were always out there walking," and she demonstrated someone swinging their arms and walking quite briskly across the post office lobby. 
"I know!" I said. "I've been a regular walker almost my entire life!" 
And then she noted that I'd lost a lot of weight and I told her I'd been on a GLP-1 and Ms. T. chimed in because she, too, is on one. We started talking about our experiences and the darling ageless woman (who, by the way, is a tiny slip of a thing) left us to it. I bet we talked for at least fifteen minutes. We shared how it's been for us and what we've learned and how incredible it's been. She started taking it because of her diabetes and her blood sugar counts are all normal now and she is thrilled. She does have some side effects that I do not but she deals with them. I found out that she has a vegan son and that she doesn't eat much meat and that she does a lot of cooking. I told her that I'd had, at one time or another, children who had adopted vegetarianism or veganism or some other different dietary path and that I had learned how to cook for them and all the others in my family who had no restrictions. She laughed, knowing what that's like. 
We chatted and chatted and finally, someone came in and I told her, "I should go and let you do your job," and we said goodbye in a very sweet and friendly way. 
These kinds of encounters make my heart so happy. 
On the surface we look entirely different but it turns out that we have so very much in common. 

Beyond that, today has been more of a slice of sort-of whole wheat, store-bought loaf bread, dry and without much to recommend it, rather than a delicious flaky croissant day. It was overcast so I decided to do some garden work. I picked beans and despite what the vines are looking like (thanks, Georgia Thumpers, you fuckers) I got an entire gallon bag packed full. 
Then I made up a spray of dish detergent and water and sprayed all the aphid-afflicted field peas I could find. Supposedly this helps to kill and deter them. 
I have my doubts. I don't think it's worked very well in the past. 
I had thought about ordering lady bugs online to battle the aphids but the thoughts on that are very mixed. For one thing, you're introducing a non-native species to the area and that's hardly ever a good idea. 
But you know what? It's not like we depend on those field peas for our protein. Growing food is wonderful. It tastes better than store bought, of course it's much fresher, there is a certain sense of achievement and satisfaction that's hard to beat, but in some ways, it's a luxury that we can afford. If you think that we're saving money by growing a garden, think again. Especially if you add in the cost of labor. 
Which we don't have to because we have the time to put in the effort. 
So. Spray those aphids with soap and water and let's hope for the best. 
I thought I'd do some weeding out there after I sprayed and I did some but it was hot and buggy and miserable and after awhile I just thought, "Really? Really? Is this the best use of my time right now?" The weeds are nowhere near bad enough to start choking out the plants or depriving the vegetables of nutrients. I thought about all the other things I could be doing instead, including working on the jigsaw puzzle if that's what I wanted to do. So I put my trowel down, got up off my knees and came inside. What I ended up doing was starting the soup we'll be eating for our supper and the dough for naan bread to go with it. 
I was going to make the creamy cashew butternut squash soup I love,  using one of the volunteer acorn squash that had grown in the garden but I waited too long to pick those things and not a one of what I thought would be a lovely bounty is fit to eat. I always use a sweet potato or two in the soup along with whatever squash I use so I just peeled and cut up three of those and so we shall be having creamy cashew sweet potato soup and it will be delicious. It will be sweeter and there is nothing wrong with that. 
I still have great hopes for the Seminole pumpkins even though I still have not seen a blossom. As I was weeding, I looked up to see what almost appeared to be a vine coming directly towards me, perhaps in order to use me as a trellis. 

The plants to the right of it are more field peas. 
I love the chunky, strong leaves and vines of the pumpkin. They are gorgeous. 
To me, at least. 
They seem to scream health and determination. If they were humans, they'd be body builders, weight lifters, pregnant women. 

And so forth. 

Enough. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sometimes Less Is More And Sometimes It's Just Less

Well, there it is. It is far from perfect but I am not completely dissatisfied. Once again I believe I learned a few things which I can put in my toolbox or my back pocket or whatever substitutes for a brain these days. I really had hoped and thought that there would be more purple in the center but I am pretty sure I know why there's not and I can test that theory on another piece. I think I tried to do too much mixing of colors and they just didn't work out the way I was hoping. And the yellow anthers got blurred, probably because I was rushing.  
But overall, this one does not make me despair. Even if it does not look exactly like a hibiscus, it certainly has hibiscus energy. 

Pottery was good. Lizzie and I got to do a lot of talking and there was chatting with others too. I thanked the woman who suggested the puzzle board profusely and when she told me about the puzzle she's been working on for quite awhile I was gobsmacked. First of all- 2000 pieces. Secondly...well, I simply could not do it. I am in awe of her for even opening the box on it.

I took an elephant ear leaf into class this morning with the idea of making a platter using it as a pattern and to impress its markings onto the clay. 
Hmmm...
That didn't really take a great deal of time once I got the slab rolled out for the piece and smoothed over. There is such a thing as a slab roller and that is my favorite piece of equipment in the studio. Do not ask me why. It looks like this.

I believe that just turning that wheel and feeling the force being created to press that clay down thrills me. Plus, I always feel a little bit like I'm the captain of a boat of old and that is my ship's wheel. At least for the 24 seconds it takes to operate the thing. 
So I did get the leaf cut and impressed onto the clay and remembered almost at the end of class that I needed to add a base to it. You can't fire a piece that is glazed where the piece meets the kiln or really, really bad things will happen. 
Ask me how I know.
So anyway, I did that. 
It almost felt like cheating to form and build the platter because my flower bowls take forever. There is so much manipulation and speculation and contemplation and frequently frustration involved. 
Anyway, I draped it over a shallow, long oval mold so that it will hopefully dry in that shape. A hump mold. Not to be confused with a slump mold. 
And then I made another slab, giving myself a reason to use the slab roller again. I cut another fish from this one. A quite large one, rather round in shape. Another fish bowl? 
Quite likely. I didn't get this one finished and I just realized a very, very ridiculously stupid mistake I made when I wrapped it up and left it until next week. Hopefully, the clay will still be moist enough to do what I need to do with it. And if it's not? 
La-di-dah. 
Another lesson! 

So that was all good, or rather, somewhat productive, maybe, with a lot of luck. And then I went to Publix and then I took myself to lunch where I got the exact wrong thing because I felt rushed but once again I must say, La-di-dah. 
I went to the very nice little resale store next door to the restaurant and although I did not buy anything, I found two objects worthy of, if not lust, than at least admiration. 

Look at that beautiful piece of American technology. I believe it is from the late 1800's and I also think it's a hand-treadle operated machine rather than a foot-operated one. As you can see, the machine has been set up with fabric and thread so that you can try it for yourself which I did and was blown away by the smoothness of the movement, the sweet, solid feel of it. Would you look at that decoration? Oh for the days when it was deemed only appropriate for a woman's tools to be beautiful as well as functional. 
Am I romanticizing a bygone era just because it's bygone? 
Possibly. 
And possibly not.  
I did not buy it. 

Here's the other thing I did not buy.

A merry-go-round horse. I have always wanted a merry-go-round horse of my own. Sorry about the picture but as you can see, there is a lot going on there and besides that, a cabinet was directly behind it, possibly only three feet away and there was no way to get a direct photo of it and I did the best I could. 
I checked for a price, of course, but it said, "Price coming," which could be, I suppose, to give them time to research it. It does not look old to me unless it has gotten a new tail, saddle, saddle blanket, stirrups, and harnesses. 
But my, it's a handsome steed. I wish you could really, really see it. 

Sometimes, too much is simply too much despite what Waldo Sexton, my decor and decorating inspiration and guru said. 

No wonder my house looks the way it does. 

Off to make supper.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Thank you all SO much for the book and author suggestions. Obviously, we are a readers' community here and nothing could make me happier. 
Sharing is caring. Thanks for caring. 

And What Are YOU Reading?

Sorry for the extremely blurry photo but I couldn't get any closer and wasn't taking much time to try and focus because that little Carolina wren was flitting and flying all over that end of the back porch, hopping from a plant to the top of the ceiling fan to a hanging bird with fishes thing and back to the plant pot and so on and so forth for quite awhile.

Don't look for the bird. She's not in that picture. That's just the hanging bird and fishes thing. 
I suppose it's time for a second nesting for the wrens. Whoa. I just read that wrens can raise up to four different broods a year so it could be the third or fourth. I have one little couple who always seem to want to nest on this porch but they simply cannot due to Maurice. 
Wouldn't be prudent. 
Still, they come right in the cat entrance and remind me so much of a couple looking at a new house to potentially buy. I pretend I'm the realtor and tell them, "Oh, babies, no. This is not the house for you." They don't believe me though. I can't tell you how much nesting material I pulled out of that plant pot this spring. Those birds are definitely energetic and industrious.  

You see that pathetic canning effort? Three pints of dilly beans and three quarts and a pint of just plain green beans. That's about all I got done today and I'm far more exhausted after that than I was yesterday after doing that yard work. I really wanted to get every bean I could in a state of preservation because the vines are looking really shitty and the beans aren't getting fat the way they were and I just don't know what's going on. But honestly- if I've gotten about all I'm going to get- that is fine. 
I've about reached my canning limit anyway. 
I stood up in the kitchen with two different bowls to snap into, one for pickling, one for regular canning. I had pretty strict criteria about which beans went into each bowl and that went pretty fast but not that fast. I stood there so long my back started aching and my left hand went numb which is what happens when I do a repetitive task with it. I broke that wrist many years ago and I'll be paying for falling off that roof for the rest of my life. 
And of course pickling requires one type of canning, the plain green beans, another. One involving the kettle, one involving the pressure canner. I am sure I have discussed this enough and who cares anyway?

But I got it done and I suppose I feel a bit of satisfaction about that but the thrill is sort of gone. I have to tell you though that I cooked some fresh green beans out of the garden and I have not yet become anywhere near tired of them. Nor has Mr. Moon.

While I worked in the kitchen, I was listening to the audio version of "The Other Bennet Sister". The damn thing's over eighteen hours long and I only have about half an hour left and I have to say, "Thank you, Jesus."
I thought the book would be more strong-women forward than it is. I guess that the Miss Bennet in the book has a few radical (for the times) ideas but it's not like she's a suffragette or anything. I don't think she'd ever burn her corset. And the plot is just so hackneyed and cliche'd and stereotypical and, and, and.
I'll stop now. 
I've been having a hard time finding books I want to read or listen to for various reasons. Some because they are poorly written to the point where I cannot deal with them, some because I have no interest in the characters, some because they're about issues I simply don't have the bandwidth to deal with in a literary way. 
For example: I downloaded Elizabeth Gilbert's "All the Way to the River: Love, Loss, and Liberation" knowing that it was going to be a tough book to listen to. But I was going to give it a shot. I hadn't gotten a tenth of the way through it until I said, "Nope," and returned it early. I have read books by Elizabeth Gilbert that I admire greatly. Okay, not really books in the plural but book which was "The Signature of All Things". 
The whole "Eat, Pray, Love" situation was a little too much for me. Eating and Loving are absolutely fine but throw in praying and I'm outta here. Of course there were other reasons I was rubbed the wrong way by it but that was a big one. 
So when "All the Way to the River..." started with Gilbert's dead lover coming back in a way that felt literal and quite real to her and started telling her how incredibly proud she was of Gilbert for her years of sobriety and that she would be waiting for her at the river when she died, I was just like...
Sure.
The other book I don't think I'm going to read is "Nobody's Girl. A Memoir of Surviving Abuse and Fighting for Justice" by Virginia Giuffre. The book was published posthumously because after she wrote it, she died by suicide. 
I got the book at the library, I thought I could read it. I went to open it and I realized that the things I was going to read in it would enrage me to the point where it would affect my relationships, my mental health, and my ability to function. 
My rage about the men who abused her and who walk free and hold the highest offices in the nation is already dialed up to eleven. 

So bottom line is, I'm not finding anything that is really holding my interest or inspiring me with one exception which is the book I'm reading with my eyes right now, entitled "Marrying the Ketchups" by Jennifer Close and I'm not far enough into it to really have a true opinion of it but I will say that it has some of the best lines in it I've read in a very long time. 

So all is not lost. 

Here's what the Seminole pumpkins are doing right now. 

 

Taking over the world and not one dang bloom yet. 

Finally, for a very short video which I feel represents Florida as well as anything I've ever seen, go HERE.
Thank you, dear Rachel. 
If the link doesn't work for you, I really don't know what to say. I am struggling with technology at the moment. 
I hope it does, though. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

In Which Lloyd Becomes Boom Town

Several of you asked about a recipe for the tomato pie so I thought I'd tell you how I did it yesterday. And by the way, it was delicious. The picture above is what it looked like before it went into the oven although the crust had been blind-baked. For those of you who are not familiar with blind-baking, it's what you need to do with a pie crust before the filling goes in if the filling takes less time to bake than the crust and also to prevent a soggy bottom*. Now if you buy a pre-made pie crust (and no judgement here, those things are fine), there are instructions on the package as to how to pre-bake and you don't have to go through the several steps that blind-baking requires. 
The recipe I used as a sort of template yesterday can be found HERE which has good instructions for blind baking.
That recipe calls for the tomatoes to be chopped which I did not do. I slice them. Also, while I'm doing all the pre-baking, I have the tomato slices draining/drying on dish towels. I salt the slices, lay them on dish towels, cover them with more dish towels, and press on them a little to get some of the juice drained out and then let them sit there for awhile. 

I don't put my onions on the bottom below the tomatoes, either. I sort of do a layer of tomatoes and then onions, repeat. 
The topping for the pie is generally made from mayonnaise (yes, mayonnaise- this is the south and mayonnaise is simply oil and eggs with perhaps a little lemon juice or vinegar and there ain't nothing wrong with that) mixed with grated cheese and sliced fresh basil leaves if you have them. The recipe gives you the proportions for the mayonnaise and cheese. I follow those approximately. Also, when it comes to the cheese, I think you can use whatever you have and/or want. I used cheddar and parmesan. 
I mean, look- you mix mayonnaise and grated cheese and bake it over tomatoes and the miracle will occur no matter what sort of cheese you use. 
As to the baking instructions- the ones in the linked recipe are fine. 

I think a tomato pie is always going to be a little bit soggy. Now if we lightly roasted our tomatoes before putting them into the pie shell, that would not be a problem. However, you'd need a lot more tomatoes. I think if I had tons of them, which I do not, I would try that. 
Some recipes call for the addition of bacon. That's a step too far for me though. 
There are a lot of ways you can go with tomato pie. Have fun. 

I did a lot of work outside today so I am feeling especially virtuous. You know me and my need to suffer. Working outside in this heat and humidity guarantees suffering plus I got some things done so win-win. I actually put on my big girl (Levi's) overalls today which is an indication that I mean business. First thing I did was pick beans and do the garden tour. The bean vines are looking sort of shit beat and the beans were fewer in number. Whether this is a temporary pause in production or a result of those giant grasshoppers, I cannot tell you. However, I can tell you that this is ant-bityest year I've ever seen. Also, here's some good news.

The field peas are podding up! 

And now for the bad news.

The aphids are already sucking the life out of them. 

Yes. This is Florida. It isn't even July yet and the pests and pestilences are already here. Bye-bye, my most beautiful tidy garden. 
The zinnias, however, are still looking very good.

I like that one. It's a little magic. First the lavender and purple and pink ones bloom and then the deep scarlets. Next come the orange ones and then the yellows. It's all magic, honestly. 

After I did the garden stuff, I got to the real, real hard stuff. The sweat-through-your-overalls stuff. The are-you-woman-enough-to-do-this? stuff. 

Oh yeah. I was.
I had noticed that all this rain had resulted in a lot of branches falling from the water oaks in the front yard so I pulled the garden cart there and began surveying what was what. There were some actual almost log-sized branches that had come down and lots of little ones too. On top of that I noticed, while really looking, that there were vines and pyracantha and briars and Virginia creeper and bamboo all growing on and around the fences and around the trees and anywhere the lawnmower can't reach and some places where it can. So I got busy. One branch was so big I had to drag it by itself out to the burn pile and I had to cut up quite a few other branches just to get them cartable. I certainly did not get to all of the raggedy unwanted plants but I got a lot. Here's what the burn pile looks like now. 

It doesn't look that impressive but I assure you I will be sore tomorrow. I'd also toted out all of the boxes that needed to go out there.
After what just happened, though, it's going to take some time and a lot of accelerant to burn that shit. We got a major storm with a hell of a lot of lightning and thunder that shook the house to the point where I came in off the porch and the rain was a deluge. We have a few ponds in the yard now. 
Here's one of them.

I mean, no one's going to drown in one but we really did get a lot of rain. 

I think the storm has passed though. I see blue skies behind white puffy clouds although distant thunder is still rumbling. 

We're going to eat the last of last year's field peas tonight along with some green beans I picked today. Also, leftover tomato pie. A garden meal. I hope we get a few more of those, at least. The peppers and eggplant are still looking fine. 
I think Mr. Moon is going up to the cabin tomorrow although I'm not sure. I know that the weather report for off-shore fishing next weekend looks pretty good so I may not be seeing him much in the coming days. Maurice and I will survive. I've been giving him a lot of hugs this evening though. He spent all day doing his Tom and Daddy things and that man deserves to go work on the project of his heart and then to get out on the ocean. I know he'll be back and he knows I'll be here when he does. 
Unless, of course, I get a wild hair and decide to...what? I can't even imagine. 
So yeah, I'll probably be here. 

Love...Ms. Moon

*Also, a special treat tonight for you from The Soggy Bottom Boys as seen in "O Brother Where Art Thou?" If you've never seen that movie, I feel sorry for you. It's a good one.

Not An Easy Day

Well, here we are. Summer solstice and Father's Day, same day. Approximately. I'm not as big a solstice celebrator as I could be I suppose. I like to acknowledge it but let's put it this way- I'd make a lousy pagan. At least it's a real thing. Like, with science and everything. Which is very cool. 
Father's Day?
Eh. I have such mixed feelings about this one. 
I honor and adore so many good daddies and have a few I thank every year, starting with the daddy of my own children, Mr. Moon. Of course he only bio-dadded two of them but he's been a father to all four. I somehow never seem to contact the first husband on Father's Day but then again, he's never contacted me on Mother's Day so I guess that's the way we do it. We really should though. I know we both appreciate how the other has been a very important part of our kids' lives. 
I also text Vergil and Jason. They've been such excellent fathers to my grandchildren and that means the world to me. 
And I always text Billy too, and tell him that I wish I'd had a daddy like him. This year I told him I wish we'd both had a daddy like him. And that is the honest to god truth. 

Of course I did not win the father lottery. And the stepfather lottery was probably even worse. Shall we say they were competing in different categories for the Bad Dad awards? Both gold medaled in their own events though. 

Two of my earliest memories are of me being in pain and wishing my daddy was there and he was not. Physical pain. This of course led to the emotional pain. I've just been thinking recently about one of those memories. I think my Gorgon reaction triggered this pondering- that instant and complete outburst of emotion which I really did not know I was even capable of. The memory is of me in our kitchen in Chattanooga and I smashed my fingers in a drawer. It hurt so, so bad and my mother was doing everything to comfort me but suddenly, I wanted my daddy and I wanted him bad. 
But he was off on one of his many and frequent binges, which could last for days or weeks and so was not there and would not be there until only god and the devil knew when. 
I have no idea why I suddenly wanted him for comfort. I can't recall a single time he held me or comforted me in any way but I guess he must have at one point or another. 
Dear old dead drunk daddy.
So I'm torn on Father's Day. I recognize the reality of the men in my life who represented fathers while the other part of me celebrates the good dads, the ones who are there for their babies whether they are hurting or not. The ones who cuddle and comfort and support the mothers in all the ways and just make a kid feel loved. I'd say especially a daughter but I think a dad like that is probably just as important to a son. I am coming from the daughter perspective though and can only speak from that. 

And Mr. Moon has certainly been all those things. I'll tell you this though- he was TERRIBLE at changing poopy diapers. He would literally gag. And I would tell him that I could not believe that a man who could shoot, butcher, and gut a deer could not change a breastfed baby's poopy diaper. 
I mean, he would do it but he sure didn't want to. 
Other than that, I can't think of anything he actually failed at and there was a whole lot he excelled at. 
And they all knew and they all know he loves them and is there for them, and not just in spirit but in real-life practical ways. Like in start-up-the-chainsaw ways. Like in Dad-my-brake-light-is-on ways. Like in Daddy-I-need-to-buy-a-house-and-navigate-mortgages-and-insurance ways, like in being the first one to the emergency room when the unthinkable call comes.  
And so forth. 

Bottom line is, he just loved those babies. And he still does and he always will. 

I chose well. As Jessie texted to tell me and thank me for just a little while ago. I think that's a real good indication that I did indeed choose a good man to be the father of my children. 
I'm not sure that's exactly all I was attracted to him for, but it did not hurt in the least. 

This is just a darn rambling post. I've got a text thing going on and I've been making a tomato pie which is quite a process and my kitchen is in dire need right now of cleaning up before I can move on to Dinner, Part II which will involve snapper and squash. Maybe some green beans. So I need to get on that. 

Happy Father's Day to all of you who are fathers or who have fathered. Or are fathering. 
No ridiculous rules here about who does or does not fit into that category. 
If I can claim any real sanity at all, at least part of it is due to a very few very good men who, often unknowingly, gave me powerful hits of what a good father could give. 
Should give? 
Yes.
Glen's own daddy being one of the main ones. 

I'll try to be a little more collected tomorrow. 
Meanwhile, happy Sunday from The Lloyd Chapter of the Church of the Batshit Crazy. 

We may be insane but we can bake a tomato pie. 

Love...Ms. Moon