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

Announcing A Splendid New Development In Bloglandia

So. You know my friend Liz Sparks whom I talk about all the time? 
Well guess what?
She has started a blog! 
She wants to keep a sort of journal/record of her travels and I am so thrilled. Her photos are going to be great, and her writing is superior. She has titled her blog whereintheworldisLiz2. 
You can find her first post, Migrating North, HERE, whereupon you will be enlightened on the topic of the woman who cooked for the Allman Brothers, that time Liz had a baby in the back seat of a '67 Plymouth Convertible in the parking lot of a birth center, and other interesting things. 
As Liz is the most Say Yes To Life person I know, she has had some pretty wild and amazing adventures. There is no doubt in my mind that her stories are going to be entertaining. Possibly enthralling! And frequently enlightening. The list of careers and paths of education she's had and followed is long and varied. And she always takes in what the people she knows and meets can teach her.
Liz is also one of the kindest, most empathetic people I know. There is nothing she won't do for a friend and very little she won't do for a stranger if the spirit moves her. She's done more for me than I can even begin to relate. 
She is just good.
I love her to pieces as you already know, and I am so excited for her to put down in words where her travels and life take her, to look at the photos she takes along the way, and the healings I know she's going to put upon us because she's good at that too. 
I am even more pleased and honored to spread the Gospel of Liz than I am to spread the gospel of the rattlesnake bean. And that's saying a lot. So go visit her if the spirit takes you, give her a little love, and let's watch as the world takes her in, embraces her, and falls in love. The more encouragement we give her, the more stories she's apt to tell and I want her to tell them all. 
You will not be sorry. 

*************

My new puzzle board was delivered first thing this morning and I am inordinately pleased with it. I even dreamed about it last night although in the dream it turned out to be made of shitty cardboard, like some sort of falling-apart box top. 

It is not. It seems like a very decent product and so far I don't have one complaint. 

I love the tilting feature and when it's flat, it can be turned 360 degrees with the lazy susan disc on the bottom, as I mentioned. It's got plenty of room, it's not too heavy to carry from one place to another, and well, I like it fine. 
The company that makes it is Playboda. I chose a plastic board because many of the wooden ones were made of pressboard and were probably heavier and less sturdy than the plastic ones. It was packaged extremely securely and was ready to use when it came out of the box. 
This sounds like a damn advertisement but since I'm not getting a cent for saying all of this, it's not. 
Sigh.
I haven't spent a whole lot of time playing with my puzzle today though. I knew I needed to pick green beans and I did. I probably have another three pounds of them. And I made Mr. Moon a Father's Day dessert. It's the same one I made for Jessie's birthday upon her request and it is decadent and delicious. 

That picture does it no justice and makes it look tacky rather than the divine wonder it truly is. I'm quite proud of myself because I made all four layers in short order and managed to chill the parts that needed chilling before the next layer was added. I should have used pecans as a topping instead of those chocolate chips but they are Ghirardelli chocolate chips so that's classy, right?

Here's a picture of a grasshopper which is a regular, normal grasshopper. With alien eyes.

Just thought I'd share that with you. I saw another Georgia Thumper on the vines again today but it didn't jump on me. 
So yeah, I did take its picture. 

These guys both horrify and fascinate me. 

And I must report that Maurice, who seems to have re-fallen in love with Mr. Moon, is spending a great deal of time on his lap when he's in his chair. She had not been doing this lately but somehow the man stole her heart again. And this morning, he found a complete and unmarred dead mouse in front of the door of the Glen Den and we know that absolutely means it was a gift for the Dad Human. 
Happy Father's Day! 
It sort of amazes me how this cat thinks and makes it so abundantly clear who she's gifting as her attentions shift from one of us to the other. Yeah, she's crazy. But she's also very interesting. There's a sort of intelligence there which is intriguing as hell. 

All right. Enough of this! Go read Liz's blog post! 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Is How It Is

That's the only picture I've taken since last night's post. But it's pretty sweet, isn't it? Before I got up this morning Mr. Moon found another unmarred gift on the back porch right where the little mousie had been the other morning. This wasn't a little mousie but one of those VERY LARGE MICE that aren't as cute as the little ones. We aren't sure at all where Maurice is coming up with these critters. I haven't seen mouse or rat sign anywhere in the house but I'm not saying it couldn't happen. I sort of think she's catching them outside in her midnight rambles though. As long as she doesn't bring them into the house, especially not in the deepest darkest hours of the night, we are fine with these gifts. Mr. Moon said he praised her profusely and they had a long talk about it when she came and sat with him in his chair this morning. 

More rain and more rain and more rain. Started here around 10:30 and I don't think it's stopped since. I do not mind this in the least because it brings the temperature down, it is of great benefit to the flora and the fauna, and it gives me a valid excuse not to go outside to do yard or garden work and sweat like a beast. Of course you know I actually love doing outside work, even if it does involve beast-like sweating but it's nice to get a little break. I did a short tour of the garden this morning and the weeds are springing up like, well...weeds. 
The zipper peas and the white acre peas are forming their pods and peas as we speak and soon I'll be picking those. Glen wanted to plant even more than we did but I put my foot down. There's only so many of those things we need. Preparing and preserving them is time consuming. Green beans you can just snap but peas have to be shelled and that takes awhile, no matter how well-practiced you are in the art. And I freeze these peas because they just freeze so beautifully. I blanch them for a minute or so in boiling water, drain them, cool them in an ice water bath in order to stop the cooking process, and then freeze them. When it's time to eat them, weeks, months, even a year later, you can just pop those babies in boiling water with whatever you want to cook them with and they taste as fresh as the day they came out of the shell. 
Glory hallelujah! 
You can leave these peas on the vine until they dry at which point they're just like any other dried bean you'd cook. Black-eyed pea, pinto, black, garbanzo, you name it. But the ones picked green and preserved in that form have a completely different taste and texture and as much as I do love a pot of beans cooked from the dried versions, the green ones are mighty special and not a food that most people are familiar with or even aware of. I guess lima beans would be an exception. When you can find them, already shelled and in bags ready to cook or frozen, usually at farmer's markets, they cost an arm and a leg. 
Labor intensive and worth every bit of it. 

Hank had asked if I wanted to meet up for lunch today and yes, I did. Rachel joined us and so did Mr. Moon. We met at Kyoto, formerly Japanica! and had good meals. I got the teriyaki tofu bento box again and once again I thought the tofu was absolutely the best I'd ever eaten. I think they use silken tofu and the outside is perfectly and lightly fried until just crispy and the tofu within is nothing short of creamy. Nothing I've ever made with tofu even begins to compare. 

Mr. Moon is just about a newborn's fingernail clipping away from being completely overwhelmed by what he's doing for Tom. Today on top of meeting with social workers and assisted living managers, he bought Tom new clothes so he'd have something to wear in the rehab facility. Then he had the meetings and got more information that he needs. Rachel, who has worked in the elder care sphere as a social worker, had names of high-ups in the system who might be able to help Glen. That was so appreciated. 
As Lis Williamson and I agreed when we talked on the phone last week, you gotta know a guy to get anything done. 
Sad, but true. 
In this case it wasn't guys but women. Same thing. 
Glen is finding all of the rehab place's case managers and so forth are being incredibly helpful which is terrific. They're not going to kick Tom out of the facility where he is. They recognize his disabilities and his needs and seem to be on top of things. But it is a rehab facility and he's going to need an assisted living place to move into. He is going to fight this with every breath in his body and I understand that completely. I would too but going back home is absolutely not going to happen. 

I keep thinking though of how when people stand up and say their vows and declare that they will love and cherish each other in both sickness and in health, they generally have no idea of what the are promising. And when Tom asked Glen to be his power of attorney and health care surrogate years and years ago, Glen had no idea what that would entail. Yet here he is, learning and doing and fulfilling that promise. 

Oh god. This is rather depressing, isn't it? I'll try not to focus on this issue so much. It's just that it is a big part of our lives right now. 

Anne Rüsing sent me a link to an article The Guardian did on Keith Richards becoming a great grandfather and how he is living his life at the age of 82. You can find that article HERE. 
I was glad to get the article, so happy to read it. Mick has been here, there, and everywhere promoting their upcoming new album, "Foreign Tongues" whereas Keith has been rather quiet which I will admit has worried me. But in the article he sounds hale and hearty and happy and thrilled about being a grandfather, a great grandfather, and a musician releasing a new album. He also talks about AI and quitting all his vices and the time Chuck Berry punched him in the face. 

“He punched me once, years ago, in the 60s, I think. We were in his dressing room, I was having a peek at his guitar and I was just about to stroke it, and he went: ‘Nobody touches it!’ And bam! Quite right, Chuck! I would have done the same. I’ve never had to, but then I’ve never caught someone doing that.”

I have to sigh and say that I will always be a bit obsessed with this man. Indulge me or don't indulge me. As Bruce Springsteen said about Keith in his memoir, "I've come across many spirit-filled folk in my travels but no one as spectrally beautiful as Keith Richards." 

And after I read Keith's memoir, I felt that to my bones. And although I have known many, many musicians, I'm not sure I've ever met one as absolutely certain of what music has meant to him or her in their life. 
Bless him. 

And here's a picture of my spirit totem animal and my daddy. 

TWO spectrally beautiful men. 

Mr. Moon and I just did a little tour of the garden which has never looked better. We agreed that I am the garden's mama, he is the garden's daddy. 
We are both so proud.

The mixture of the carefully in-line planted seeds and plants with the volunteers is especially striking this year. We've never had better peppers, and the tomatoes are pretty damn gorgeous. The eggplant would make a mother proud. 
And they do. 

The rain has ceased for now but the sound of water dripping off the leaves is still a lovely patter-song. The birds are saying, "Goodnight! Goodnight!" and the oaks are sighing with comfort and relief. 

Martini night, clean sheet night. It's good. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon