Busy-Ness

 

Today was a get-shit-done-day for me. The main project I wanted to tackle was making bread and butter pickles. Remember how our first few cucumbers were so bitter? Well, they aren't any more and I had a refrigerator that, if not filled with cukes, sure had a lot of them stashed in different drawers and crispers and on shelves. So out came the water bath canner and the very, very cool colander you see in that picture above. I got that thing at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thrift Store before they broke my heart and closed. I'm still not over it and probably never will be.

When I saw that colander, I wasn't even sure what it was but quickly realized that it was indeed a colander and built so that it could easily be adjusted to fit into different sized spaces. The handles are on sliding tracks which pull out or push in, making it adjustable for all of your draining needs. It works wonderfully well for rinsing vegetables just out of the garden in the sink that Mr. Moon built for me and/or in the kitchen. When I saw it, I realized that it was what had been missing in my life and I snatched it right up. I knew I'd use it to wash and drain beans before canning and I've used it for other things too. It worked perfectly today for my cucumbers and onions which had been salted, covered with ice, and left to sit in a bowl. It is so easy to just dump that big bowl of the salted vegetables into the strainer and rinse them and let them drain. Before I sliced each one though, I tasted it to make sure it wasn't bitter. I only found two of those in the whole mess, the rest tasting as cucumbers should. 
Bread and butter pickles are sweet pickles and so their syrup has vinegar and sugar in it, along with various spices like cloves and mustard seed and celery seed and red pepper and black peppercorns and all that good stuff. You boil that mixture, then add the drained cucumbers and onions, bring it all back to a boil and pack your jars, put on their lids, and in they go to the canner. 

Today's batch only made six pints but six pints is fine with me, especially since I didn't think I was going to be able to make any cucumber pickles this year. We only have two grow bags with the plants in them but they're pretty prolific. 

So while I was working on that project I started making a cake which we shall not discuss in depth here because it may be involved in a birthday. While the cucumbers were sitting in their salt and ice bath, I got the cake made and in the oven and was able to somehow coordinate my actions which is something I'm not very good at these days. I guess I was having a good mental health day or something. Whatever, everything went rather smoothly. 
Of course every different project creates a mess which I absolutely must clean up before I can go on to the next stage because I cannot cook in a messy, untidy kitchen. 
I just can't. So that's a constant too. 

But by three-thirty I had those pints cooling on the kitchen island and the cake baked, iced, and in the refrigerator, and the countertops de-stickified and all of the dishes and pots and pans and knives and spoons I'd used washed and in the drainer or in the dishwasher. And then...out to the garden!

My beans had slowed down a bit and I was beginning to worry but between the rain we got last week and a good watering with the sprinklers, they have made a splendid comeback. I picked for an hour. Or close to it. 

Picking beans is like a treasure hunt for me. Every bean I find and pluck gives me a tiny hit of serotonin even after all these years. Growing rattlesnake beans is an important part of my mental stability. I swear. And then seeing my pantry shelves fill up with the jars of them I've processed also brings me a sense of satisfaction that is hard to explain. And same with the pickles like the ones I made today. 
Tomorrow is pottery and I'm going to take a large bag of green beans to give away to anyone who wants them. I'll take smaller bags to parcel them out. I hope people want them. 

And now I've made a spaghetti sauce with venison from the woods and eggplant and a green pepper from the garden. They're the little Asian eggplants and so I just sliced them up and threw them in with the browning meat, the onions, and the chopped up pepper. And garlic. You know. I wish I had enough tomatoes to have thrown those in too but I don't. We should have planted a lot more tomatoes than we did.

Mr. Moon was going to leave for the cabin today but he got a phone call from another friend of our friend Tom's who somehow had been informed that Tom was in the hospital. We're not sure what happened but possibly another stroke. Glen is his health care surrogate so he needs to stay in town. It sounds like they're mainly looking for a rehab place for Tom to move to for now and I have a feeling that this means he'll never be going back to his Tiny House in the woods again. He really shouldn't be living alone there anyway and he REALLY shouldn't still be driving but he has been doing both of those things for far longer than I would ever have thought possible with his many and varied disabilities. The man is stubborn as ten Mr. Moons and a Tennessee mule and that may be the world record for stubbornness. Let me just say that although Tom has a very hard time speaking now, one of the things he can definitely still manage to say and make clear is "FUCK NO!" 
So. 
It's honestly really good that Glen isn't leaving this week because after months dealing with a place on his back what would not, will not heal and which has itched to the point of his madness, he has finally gotten a diagnosis and it is not skin cancer or any cancer but some sort of dermal hyper-reaction to possibly an insect bite and he is supposed to apply a steroid cream around it twice a day and he can't do that on his own. He simply cannot reach it. They've also prescribed antihistamines to help with the itching and thank god for that. Why I haven't been pumping him with Benadryl at night is a mystery to me. I know that Benadryl is losing favor with the medical profession but if you need to stop itching in any way in order to sleep, I can't think of a better remedy. 

And that's all the news that's fit to, uh, well, not print, but send into the cybersphere. Is that word appropriate? Who knows? Not me. I'm just proud I figured out how to use an adjustable colander. 

Magnolias from my sweetheart. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Magical Mystery. At Least For Me

When I was a little girl, I loved going through my mother's jewelry box. There were, almost by very definition, treasures in it. It was made of wood and the craftsmen ship seemed very fine and of course the little drawers were velvet lined. I swear to you I can still hear the sound those drawers made when they were pulled out. 

There were two pieces of jewelry in the box which I especially loved. 

One was a pin, or a brooch, I guess, which Mother wore when she was going out fancy. Which didn't happen very often. But when she did she would always wear this and I was certain she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

I was also certain that those gorgeous roses trapped in Lucite were magical. How could they not be?
I'm pretty sure those pins were quite popular in the mid to late fifties. I remember other women wearing similar ones and they're hardly worth the effort to order one online. The market is probably flooded. 
But anyway, I kept that particular piece of jewelry because it was a little bit of magic from my childhood and I remembered it so clearly. 

The other piece of jewelry in the box was a bracelet. The catch on it was broken and I never once saw Mother wear it. When I'd ask her about it she sort of brushed me off. I don't think she valued it much or perhaps she had a bad association with it. Who knows? 
But I thought it was about the coolest, most enchanting thing on earth. I can remember looking and looking at that bracelet, trying to figure it out. Who did the faces on it belong to and why was it so different from any other jewelry that I saw other women wearing? This is what it looked like, only without a clasp.

The faces are quite large.

As you can see. 
That's my wonky wrist, by the way. The one I broke when I was seventeen. It has an odd bump on it and its mobility is somewhat limited. Not much. It's my bracelet-wearing wrist.

Anyway when my mother died, I knew I wanted that bracelet and I wanted it bad. My three other siblings are brothers so they didn't want it. I don't think any of them had spent much time going through our mother's jewelry box.
So, I took possession of it and took it to a jeweler to get a clasp put on it which they did and I asked them if it was silver. They said something like, "Silver coated". I knew it had silver in it or on it because it tarnishes and comes back bright and shiny if I give it a good cleaning with a silver-polishing cloth and I accepted what the jeweler I'd spoken to said and did not love the bracelet one bit less.

I've google-lensed it before but never learned anything definite about it, not even the identity of whatever god or, well, guy those links were representing. I always thought they were Bacchus, that bad boy who was god of wine and inebriation and agriculture but I didn't spend a lot of time worrying about it. To me, one more mystery about this mysterious bracelet was to be expected. 
For some reason though, this evening I really looked for any kind of marking on the backs of the links. I couldn't find a darn thing on any of the three Baachus images, if indeed that's who it is, but there are two smaller faces or masks between the larger ones which are all identical. Here's what the little guys look like.

I have no idea who these cuties are. None at all. 
BUT on the backs of both of them I found this.

Obviously, I can clearly make out the 800 marking but have zero clue about the other one which looks as if it had been polished away. 

Here's the back of the other small link.

Any suggestions? 

I am clueless which is not unusual but in this instance, I'd really be interested in getting some information. 

Since I could see the "800" marking quite well, I looked it up and that indicates the piece is indeed silver, but a silver used more frequently in the late 19th century to the early 20th century. The 800 indicates that it is 80% silver whereas we mostly see 925 silver markings, which means that piece is what we call sterling silver and it is (surprise, surprise!) 92.5% silver. 
The 800 marking does not mean the piece is less valuable unless what you're looking to do with it is to melt it down and sell it for the value of the silver. It makes a more sturdy piece and is used in silver flatware and also jewelry. And it does indicate a vintage piece. 

Google lens has advised me that the guy on the big links could be the Green Man, Baachus, or your run-of-the-mill party guy satyr. I am more inclined to believe it's Green Man or Bacchus. 
Whoever it is appears to be a good time god. 
And also, whoever it is, I am as intrigued and curious about the bracelet his visage adorns as I was as a child. And I would really love to know how it came to be in my mother's jewelry box.

And that's about it for me today. I went to town to do the weekly shopping. I have a story involving THE HEARING AIDS which ended (so far) with my husband telling me he still loves me, and we just got enough rain to wet the ground and make it smell really, really good here. Also, I am watching Hawk who has flown in and perched on the fence for reasons unknown to me. The crows are NOT happy about this and are cawing out warning calls. 

Tomorrow makes fifty years ago that I began in labor with Hank. 
And his birthday is Wednesday. 
Do the math. 
But. I can still hardly talk about his birth and how I felt my heart expand to a size I did not know possible when I first held him in my arms without crying. 
I learned what love was then. As I have always said, my kids have been and are my best teachers and I was so fortunate as to have Hank be my first one. 

Happy night before you were born, my love, my beautiful red-headed baby! 

Always...Mama

Mostly Sweetness

I am not sure what's going on with this cat. She seems to be extra caring for me right now. When she lies down beside my arm when I'm here on the back porch, typing away, and leans against me with obvious purposeful force and then twists her head up to look at me, I melt and forgive her all her bloody sins. Last night she seemed quite concerned about me and I wasn't really feeling very well, to be honest. I've always called her my nurse cat and sometimes it freaks me out when she's being so very solicitous because I can't help but wonder if she knows something I don't. Like those dogs who can sniff out skin cancer. 
Anyway, she followed me into the bathroom when I took my shower and brushed my teeth and would not leave until I turned out the light and got in bed. She jumped up beside me and squished her whole body against my legs and she stayed there the entire night. Both of us slept inexcusably late this morning but honestly, I have felt better today so maybe she DID know something I didn't. 

I did nothing of any real interest at all today and so have very little to talk about. I also haven't taken any pictures except for a few of Maurice like the one you see above. This morning I felt a bit agitated and on the verge of tears but I picked beans and mostly just hung out, doing the crossword and being lazy and eventually, my mood changed and I have felt more at ease and whatever tears I had decided to stay inside my head and my heart and Mr. Moon has made me feel loved and cherished and that always helps. I've been cooking pinto beans all day long and have focaccia bread dough with sun-dried tomatoes in it rising and have picked arugula and various basils to make a nice little vinegary and olive-oily salad to eat with it when it's been baked. Probably with goat cheese, too. I can't believe it's taken me my entire life to learn about food like this, so very simple and yet so very perfect. Don't get me wrong- I will always love a good meatloaf, whether made with beef or with venison, but I have also loved beans since I was a child and my mother cooked pinto beans. I believe she may have learned to do this when she lived in New Mexico, I believe, with my father who had run away from home as a boy and found work on a ranch there (or it could have been Arizona, yes, I think it may have been) and the woman who was the wife of that ranch welcomed my poor, no doubt completely confused mother into her kitchen and taught her to make beans and cornbread, which were truly her best dishes. My mother had married a man whom she'd known since first grade and who I am sure she thought would simply follow his father and his uncle into their law practice and they would live happily ever after in a beautiful house on Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, where they both were raised, with children of their own and quite possibly someone else hired to do the cooking. 
This makes my father sound like far more of a brave and adventuresome and fun man than he actually was. What he actually was was a very dedicated alcoholic who introduced my mother to the sides of life that she never expected to know anything about, including the fear of homelessness, poverty, and starvation, not to mention the regular and terrifying experience of abandonment. 
But goddamn! She sure did learn to make pinto beans and cornbread. 

I think so often of how miraculous it is that despite coming from beginnings like that, followed by living in a house with a certifiably sadistic child abuser and spousal emotional abuser, I ended up marrying a man like Mr. Moon who, although no more perfect than any of us, is as true and steadfast and honest and loving as any man I could imagine. And he has dealt with my deep imperfections for all of these years and continued to love me and has been the best father and grandfather I can imagine. 

Which leads me to the pictures I have gone back into my library to post this evening. They are from when August and Maggie were littles together. Lily and I talked about that time period yesterday and how incredibly precious it was, those two little cousins, so close in age, both with such blonde curls, such beautiful little expressive faces.
From my childhood beginnings to the incredible things that have happened in my life never ceases to amaze me. 

Here we have August Glinden and Magnolia June. 

Sigh. My heart. 

Thank you for indulging me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Correction

I misstated the town where the Mermaid Parade was held yesterday that Jessie's family attended. It was not Black Mountain but Marshall, North Carolina which is about an hour away from Black Mountain. 
Sorry! 

Frightening Revelation And So Much More!

I had a rather terrifying experience this morning. 
Oh, don't worry. I didn't step on a rattler or drive my car off a cliff by accident or anything. 
No. I simply caught sight of myself in a very strong beam of sunlight, almost naked, standing in front of my mirror. 
Damn. I knew the body was really looking old, especially after losing weight, but I did not realize the full extent. It was almost horror-movie level scary. 
DEAR GOD!
How could I not have realized this? I do look in mirrors but never in quite that bright a light and also, come to think of it, not entirely nude. Well, I wasn't entirely nude today but nekkid enough to get a far more accurate picture. 
It's quite a conundrum to feel so much younger in some ways and then to realize I actually look so much older. Given the choice though, I'll take feeling younger and looking older rather than the other way around. And in clothes I think I look pretty okay. Mostly. 
I could be very, very wrong about that, though.

So then I finished getting dressed and went to town to meet Maggie and Lily for pedicures. We went to a new establishment on the east side of town very near Lily's house and not so far from me either. Angel Nail Spa. Jessie had gone there and recommended it. They were so kind and professional and did a great job on all our feet. No one called me "Mama" like another place we went to fairly recently and I was a little sad about that but what're ya gonna do? 

Here is what our toes looked like after they were tended to so well.

Magnolia's. 

Lily's celebration of Pride toes. 

Sorry. I'd already visited the garden in flip flops when I took this but it's a realistic representation of my feet in summer. Just be grateful I didn't take a picture of my left foot which has numerous ant bites on it. 

Lily's toes took longer than Maggie's and mine and you can see why. Ms. Mags and I walked two doors down to Midtown Noodles where we met up with Owen, Gibson, and Boppy to have some lunch. Midtown Noodles serves delicious foods like Pho and ramen noodles and some curry things. Owen and I got Pho, Gibson and Maggie got ramen, Boppy got some chicken and rice dish which was probably the least exotic thing on the menu which is what he was going for, and we ordered Lily Katsu chicken with curry that had to be taken in a to-go box because Maggie had a birthday party to attend at two and she DID NOT WANT TO BE LATE! 
I understand.
It was a pool party. She was pretty excited. The party was for her best friend Mary's birthday. Big doin's. 

I have to tell you that the kids were great. Owen was absolutely the very best big brother and helpful grandson you can imagine. To the point where when he'd run out to his car to find Maggie a hair tie so she could keep her curls out of her ramen, I asked Gibson and Maggie if he was always that sweet.
"Yeah," Gibson said. "He is." 
Maggie, however said, "Not to me. Not when I'm trying to wake him up to do something." 
Well, who isn't cranky when they've just been woken up and expected to do something? 
Glen just commented on how sweet he was a few minutes ago and I told him that I had asked his siblings if he was always that sweet because I was hoping he wasn't Eddie Haskelling us. For those of you who don't know who Eddie Haskell was, don't worry. He was a major suck-up on the Leave it to Beaver show who, when he wasn't trying to impress and curry favor with adults, was a horrible person. Now I don't think Owen could possibly be a horrible person but then again, I find it hard to believe he's THAT sweet to his brother and sister. 
And yet, I think he really is. 

After lunch, Glen and I went over to Oak Tree Treasures which is about half a block away. He's looking for rugs and furnishings for his cabin. I suggested that Target or Walmart might have rugs that he could use but I get the feeling that no, they are not going to have things that are of the quality he wants. 
Ooh boy. 
We didn't find anything at Oak Tree so we went to the resale joint down the road. They'd approached him before Oak Tree moved in, wanting to rent space at Moon Plaza but had wanted more space than he had available. So he was curious as to how they'd ended up. Again, he found nothing but I found two things. One was the little fish plaque souvenir I did not buy the last time I was there.
Here it is on the shelf over the sink in my bathroom. 

I just realized I have another sort of art gallery there. Well, depending on your definition of art. 

The other thing I got just cracks me up and at the same time, is a very practical item.

Anyone know what this might be?

It is a foldable cake and bakery goods carrier. The strap thing there which looks like it might be something used in a fifties-themed bondage costume is actually the strap that goes around the foldable box and provides a handle. I just had to buy it. I bet I've baked a thousand cakes in my life and I have never had a cake carrier. 
Unless my memory has completely failed me and I have one sitting on a shelf right where I see it five times a day. However, I am quite sure I do not have one that looks like this. 
I'm excited. 

And that was pretty much my day. Why I didn't get a picture of the kids I have no idea. I do have a few pictures Jessie sent. They all got to walk in a Mermaid parade with Uncle Ben's marching band in Black Mountain today. 

You have to wonder what in the world is going on in western North Carolina. 
Pretty cool stuff is what I'd say. 
Is August rocking the mermaid theme or what? I have a feeling that's one of his cousin's costumes. I think he does it justice. 

When I first started visiting Jessie and Vergil when they lived in Asheville, I realized rather quickly that I was not nearly cool enough to be cool there. 
Very few of us are. 

Doesn't matter. Just like my old body. Take me or leave me. This is the way I am. Or, as Popeye so famously said, "I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam."

Going to go cook some fish.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Good Friday Although Not Good Friday. You Know

 

 

Mr. Moon mowed today and that always involves him moving the cars which are usually parked on either side of the little garden bed beside the kitchen door and when I was walking back to the house from the garden I really looked at our house and thought to myself that if I saw that house for the first time I would want to live in it. 
I hadn't realized how much of the beauty of it is obscured and diluted by a Prius and a, well, whatever that red car Mr. Moon drives is. I think a Toyota of some sort. 
For a woman who is married to "The Car Guy" I don't know squat about cars. 
And that may give you another perspective on my house and side yard. The little kitchen porch, the beautiful sable palms to the right of it that Tom gave me when my mother died and I planted, the tea olive tree which I always talk about as smelling so heavenly, and of course another murder (sago) palm right there in the tiny garden. You can also see all the invasive plants growing on this side of it, the chenille plant, the border grass, the Virginia creeper. 
Usually by this time of the year, the bananas that grow there have gotten pretty tall, fat, and fine. Not this year. I suppose that may be because of the unexpected freeze we had when they'd just started growing at the end of the winter/beginning of spring. 
I did a little weeding in that bed this afternoon and then just sort of casually threw a few seeds out there in some of the bare spots and then turned on the sprinkler. 

There's just a jumble of different plants in there so why not try to grow a few more? It's a mess but it's my mess. 

I worked some in the big garden this afternoon too. I weeded a tiny bit and then mulched some more.

That picture makes it look like I've got nothing going on there but trust me- there's a lot going on. The row of potatoes I pulled a few days ago is bare but I'm thinking of trying to plant some lettuces. We always grow lettuce in the spring and there's probably a reason for that. However, having discovered that arugula thrives in the summer heat, I'm thinking, why not? Why not try it? Glen's pushing me to plant another row of field peas but I'm not jumping on that one. We've got plenty as far as I'm concerned. Once they start producing we've got another time consuming project, which is picking and shelling them which is not a terrible thing to have to do but you have to make the commitment. I don't can those. I blanch and freeze them which works out very well. 

I was going to hang the sheets out this morning and was quite excited about that. Nice, sunny, not very humid- perfect drying on the line weather, but when Mr. Moon mows, there is so much dust kicked up it would be ridiculous to dry the bed linens outside. You know, there are large patches of our yard that are mostly dirt and so even if we've had rain there is going to be dust. 

Oh well. I used the dryer and the bed is made up and there are clean clothes and clean towels and that's the goal. 

It's been a day where I've been mostly good. A day where I've noticed the little things, like seeing the side of the house without the cars blocking the view. Like the beginning flowers of the Beauty Berry plant. 

Do any of you remember the year I made jelly out of Beauty Berries? 
It was a valid experiment but I'd certainly never repeat it. The color of the jelly was amazing. The taste though was somewhat lacking. 
But I'd read it could be done and so had to try it but as with so many things, just because you can, doesn't mean you should. 
This is a lesson we were probably meant to learn in our teens and yet, so many of us did not. 

And honestly, that's about all I have to say today. I have not talked about politics or the state of our country in quite awhile and I suppose that's because I've just felt so helpless. By the time I could call my representatives about one issue, another one has taken precedence over that one. I do truly believe that the wheels are coming off the bus as either Robert Reich, Jeff Tiedrich, or Heather Cox said today (I know it had to be one of those people because they write the newsletters I faithfully read every morning) and at this point, I don't think even his staunchest supporters, lap dogs, ass lickers, or cabinet members are really trying their hardest to show their approval of his overall behavior, his decisions, his inability to stay awake. 
However, the six members of the Supreme Court who are obviously out of their fucking minds, still seem to be...well, out of their fucking minds. 
Bye-bye Constitution. 
Hello, Facism! 

I'm listening to Kate Atkinson's "Life After Life" and I know I've read the book with my eyes at least once, probably twice. It was released in 2013 and much of the subject matter has to do with WW II and the rise of Hitler. It's an amazing book on many levels but rather scary in that Atkinson's description of how Hitler came to power despite his obvious insanity is far more familiar here in 2026 than I think she could have imagined it would be. 

But hey! Martini night! Clean sheets on the bed! Beautiful weather and a very tidy garden. 
What? Me worry? 
Don't be absurd.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pickles Ain't Easy

 Rattlesnake beans and a magnolia tree. Two of my favorite things. I took that picture when I was picking beans this morning. 
Okay, I lied. It was early afternoon. 
And yet, still cool. It got down to around 55 degrees last night (which is about 13 degrees C) and knowing this was going to happen I opened up the bedroom window before I went to sleep and when I got up it was so cool that I put on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. When I was picking I did take off the long-sleeved shirt so I was down to the tank top underneath and was quite comfortable. I'm not sure what's going on but my beans aren't as prolific or large as they were a few weeks ago although I think that may be because I planted them too closely together and the vines are shading themselves out. I came up with this theory because the beans on the overhead trellis which get a lot more sun are still going strong and are as big as the first ones were. 
Still, I managed to pick a decent basketful and decided to break out the canning kettle to make dilly beans which are pickled green beans and a big favorite with the kiddos. 
The canning kettle and the pressure canner are two entirely different things and are used for two entirely different methods of canning food. The canning kettle is simple a large pot with a lid and a rack inside of it in which you can make pickles or canned tomatoes or anything vinegary or salty or acidy as those things are not prone to harbor the bad bacteria. This is called water bath canning and for many years, that's the only kind I did. Then I got a pressure canner in which I can process my green beans when I am not pickling them. 
I have learned via a FB canning group that people can EVERYTHING including fish and eggs. Some people look for sales on things like potatoes and buy bushels full and can those. 
I am not going to that effort, trust me. Now if potatoes weren't available year round and were more expensive, I might, but they are, and they're not. I mean, my time and effort is worth something. 
And it is a lot of time and effort to can things. Especially pickled green beans, in my experience. 
You have to grow them, pick them, trim them to a size which will fit into your choice of canning jars, make the pickling liquid, which is vinegar, water, salt, and sometimes sugar, pack the beans into the jars which can take forever if you're really attempting to do a good job and get as many beans in there as possible, then put your spices in the jars along with the beans and THEN, pour the boiling liquid over everything without overflowing it (hello, canning funnel!), seal the jars with the lids you've prepared by heating them in almost boiling water and finally, putting the jars in the kettle which already has very hot water in it, raising the temperature up to boiling, and process the beans for ten minutes, which means to leave them in that water as it bubbles. 
Phew! 
It took me at least two hours to do all that in order to produce six pints of dilly beans. 
They fucking better be good. 
When I got out my kettle today and opened it, I realized it has begun to rust. I used it for the dilly beans but I will be buying a new one. I'm not sure how much pickling I'm going to be doing this year but it's probably not a good idea to process food in a rusty kettle. Also, eventually those rust spots will turn into holes. 
And when that happens, I use the kettles to put weeds in when I'm working in the yard. When Hank was a baby, I used one to let him play in during a very long, hot, summer. 

Last night I did something that I'm not sure I've ever done which was to take apart a jigsaw puzzle before it was done and re-boxing it. I've been working on that stupid, vintage Florida puzzle for probably a year and I am completely over it. I have lost all interest and since the older I get, the more useless it seems to me to finish something just because I started it when it doesn't matter one damn bit if I do or I don't, I finally said, "Fuck this shit," and it's gone. 
I went online to try and find another eeboo puzzle, the brand of puzzles I truly love and enjoy putting together, and found one on e-bay. 

This one is a "vintage" puzzle, not being made anymore but I really like it and ended up paying as much for it as I would a brand new puzzle off the eeboo website. 
La-di-dah. Life is short. 
Etc.

I haven't been in my most contented and peaceful mental state the last few days. I've been getting headaches and I think they are either caused by my sinuses doing something they should not be (allergies?) or my neck and shoulder muscles pretending they are steel bands. 
Or a combination. I find myself rubbing the areas under my eyes and also trying to stretch out my neck muscles which make that weird crunchy sound when I turn my head too far. .
So that's annoying. I rarely get headaches so of course I think I have a brain tumor but I'm pretty sure I don't, not really. This just doesn't feel like a brain tumor, not that I'd really know. 
Thankfully. 
I guess if this keeps up I'll have to go to the doctor and I swear to you- I have only been to the doctor once in the many years I've been going to Zorn's office for anything other than a regularly scheduled appointment except for kidney stone pain. 
God, I'm lucky. 

Mr. Moon's on his way home. My kitchen smells like vinegar. 

I guess I'll go make some supper. Arugula and golden and also black cherry tomatoes will be involved. 

Here's a picture I found of the potato harvest in 2021.

That was a good year. Also, Levon was really cute. 
He still is. 

Here's a picture Jessie sent today after he got a haircut at a real barber shop. 

Oh yeah. 
And of course August got one too. 

I think that's called a Sunburst Fade. Or a Burst Fade for short. Kind of a combination mullet and mohawk. 
Look at those eyes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Finally Leave My Yard

 

I took this picture to send to Jessie this morning and accompanied it with the message, "We miss you!" 
And we did. We all talked about her being off to North Carolina and how cool it is that her family gets to do that. 
Well, not all of us. There were four new members in class and of course they don't know Jessie. There was another mother-daughter pair who had taken pottery together before at Lemoyne, the place where August went to his art camp. 
Gail led them all through the process of building a mug, which means making the mug not on the wheel, but by cutting out flattened clay and forming the mug that way. Those people made some really cool mugs. I was impressed. And I realized that I have not made one mug in all the time I've been going to that class. I may have set a record for non-mug-making-in-pottery-class. 

But Lizzie was there and Felicia, another one of our compadres in pottery and also Tammy, who may be on her third session now. I think. 
It was good to see everyone and catch up a little. Lizzie has been to NYC since I last saw her, with the Gentleman Caller. She took him to his first opera- La Traviata. He only fell asleep once. He took her to a Broadway musical and she says she slept through a lot of it. Although GC was raised in New York City, he had never done some of the more touristy things such as going to Ellis Island or the Cloisters but Lizzie remedied that situation. I think they had a fantastic time. He stopped by at the end of class and as always, got a very warm welcome from us. We definitely approve of GC. 

My hibiscus bowl had finally been fired. Hurray! However, one of the little round legs of it had fallen off in the kiln and that was sort of a big disappointment. No need to fret, however. I'll just make another one and get that fired and then superglue it on when the whole thing is done. I was so excited to start working on the glaze-painting of that but before I did, I applied underglaze and then a glossy clear coat to the bottom of the leaf platter and now it will go into the kiln and we shall see what those colors look like. 
After I did that, I started on the hibiscus and it took me about an hour and a half to do this.

Do not ask me why. 
First off, I had to try and create a color for the inner central area there. The throat? And so I did a mixing of some of the colors I have that I ordered. 
Because I knew I would not remember what I'd used, I took this picture.

So what we have there is a mixture of Java Bean, Candy Apple Red, Wine About It, and Grapel. What I think I am going for is a sort of deep, deep burgandy with almost a hint of brown in it. Something like this. 

That's a picture I took of a hibiscus in Roseland. 
Now. Whether my combination of colors will be anything at all close to that is yet to be seen. And because of the slowness of the way I work, it ain't gonna be seen for awhile. 
Oh well. What's the rush? 
The point is, I love doing this. I brought it home so I can play with it here if I get the chance which means making the time and that is entirely under my control. 
I really have no idea what I'm doing and that's what I love about it. I just sort of let my hands take over and so far, I haven't hated anything I've done and although that's a low bar, it's okay. 

I also found my poor little fishy that I made in the last thirty minutes of a class, planning on making a nice little school of them to hang on the wall. 

It's rough. It needs sanding. But it's another happy fish. 
Now. The funny part is, I finally found it on one of the kids' classes shelves. I am not insulted in the least. In fact, I am pleased. Especially after seeing these hung in the hallway at the art center. I pass them on my way to the bathroom and I just had to take some pictures. Of the pictures.

I noticed this one first because it was seriously crooked.  I reached to straighten it and then realized, it was hung that way on purpose. Such brilliance! 
Here are some more.

I have felt all these ways. I recognize myself in each and every one of them and what human being could not? 

If I could do art like that, I would be so thrilled. 
So, to have found my little fish on the kids's shelf was not an insult to me in the least. It was a compliment. I have made something that evokes childishness. 

After class I took myself to lunch to the Cuban restaurant where I sat outside. My server was Jessi, whom I have mentioned before. I have developed a real affection for her. She does not try to be all cozy-friendly, she does not suck up. She is professional in all ways and radiates a lovely vibe. As I have said before, I do not mind eating in a restaurant by myself in the least. I wonder why. That doesn't really make sense in the light of how I feel about being in public. 

And then, because I realized I had not left Lloyd since last Friday, I stopped by Oak Tree Treasures where I spent way too much time and absolutely no money. I didn't find a darn thing I wanted or needed. 
By then, I was indeed getting anxious because when I've been away from home for too long, that's what I do. I have this inner voice telling me that I am going to be late, hurry up! Get home! 
And late for what? I ask that voice and it never has an answer and yet it doesn't stop nagging me. But I had to go to Publix and I did grow ever more anxious but eventually I made it home and here I am. 

I have not made even one brief tour of the garden and that feels wrong. I have certainly not skipped a day being in the garden since I got home from Roseland. It's okay. I know it's okay. 

Mr. Moon is at the cabin for one more night. He'll be home tomorrow as he has a dermatologist appointment Friday morning.

Oh! Look what I found at Publix. 

A new canning funnel! Thank you, Publix. And now it's guaranteed that my old one will show up. 

I am truly ready to rock. Come on, green beans! Let's dance. 

Love...Ms. Moon