"I was digging," he said.
Monday, May 17, 2021
"I was digging," he said.
Sunday, May 16, 2021
That picture was from yesterday when Jessie and Vergil took the boys to the beach. I think it's deliciously delightful. That look on Levon's face is priceless. I have no idea what August was doing but if it was an imitation of an ostrich, it's a pretty good one.
Today has been the epitome of Sundays. Not in the dark curtain of thick, inky blackness sense which can envelop us on Sundays sometimes- it's been way too pretty of a day for that to happen. But in the sense of being completely nonproductive- well, I knocked that baby out of the park.
I remembered the Sabbath Day and I kept it holy as hell.
So to speak.
I was hanging the clothes on the line, which I consider to be a borderline religious activity, especially on a day like today, when I realized that a yellow fly had stealth-attacked me to the point where I was bleeding. It had gotten my left foot and my right leg. As many of you know, the bite of this particular insect is something I react strongly to and before I knew it, the afflicted areas were itching so intensely that I thought I might go mad. I was ready to take a knife to the bites to cut them out.
This is not hyperbole. I was truly thinking, "So this is how people go insane."
I slathered two different types of anti-itch ointment on them and finally caved in and took a Benadryl. Within an hour, the worst of the itching had passed but my left foot is still swollen like a little fat pink ballon, ready to burst its skin. And it still itches.
Over the last few years I thought I'd gotten a little less reactive to these bites but it would appear that if so, something has happened to reverse that progress. I can hardly bend my toes.
So that sort of slowed me down. Benadryl will do that and a foot that is nothing more than a bursting sausage will too.
I finally finished reading an article in a New Yorker entitled "The UFO Papers: Why did we start taking unidentified aerial phenomena seriously?" It's a very long article and there are no absolute conclusions but it would appear that by golly, something's going on and has been for quite some time. The good news is that if there is intelligent life spying on us or doing whatever it is they may be doing, they obviously aren't interested in destroying us because if they were, that would have happened a long, long time ago.
But the part that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up came in this bit:
Of course, it could all be horseshit but it makes more sense to me than the virgin birth and millions upon millions believe that crap.
Except more human. Like a person resulting from the crossing of an alien and a human. Mr. Moon and I both noticed her at the same time and our jaws dropped. But there she was, in her green uniform with a badge on, proclaiming her an employee of Zona Arqueologica San Gervasio.
We're still talking about that.
And wouldn't it be perfect for a human/alien cross to hang out at some Mayan ruins?
Well, here's a little alien that I took a picture of on my back porch.
Saturday, May 15, 2021
"Do you remember these?" I asked him. I used to spread a towel on the kitchen floor and put a bowl of water on it for a swimming pool and he would play with those little critters happily.
He's just a fine boy, that one.
"You put oranges in the salad!" he said. "Why?"
"This is my first time having a purple cow without my siblings!" he said.
Then he got cuddled up in the bed in the guest room with lots of covers and pillows and I read him the three books he'd picked out. "Corduroy, Lost and Found," "Professor Wormbog in Search for the Zipperum-a-zoo," and...."The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza."
"Would you like to hear a story about me when I was a child?"
I am sure we all do this. Or will.
Whatever compels me to tell these stories, it is a genuine need. And dear Gibson just happened to be on the receiving end of that need today.
"It's your turn next, Owen!" I said.
"I know," he said. "I'm excited."
And I would wish that I could offer at least a small amount of all of this for my own grandchildren, each of them so different and each of them so loved.
Friday, May 14, 2021
Mr. Moon is experimenting with all sorts of different types of propagation. Here he is trimming tomato cuttings to try and root. We do not need any more tomato plants- trust me. If the ones he has planted bear even reasonably well, the pantry will be full of canned tomatoes, tomato sauces, ketchups, and chili sauces. But he is having fun and Levon and August were having fun with him. Levon helped me and Jessie pull up my celery and the rest of the rainbow chard.
The celery- sigh.
It was a valiant effort. But I just didn't do it right from the way I planted it to the way I did not thin it enough and it was just getting tough and I didn't especially like the flavor so- farewell, dear celery! And the chard? Well, full of bugs and past its prime so it is now gone too. Perhaps zinnias will be planted in their places.
We found this little guy in the celery after we had pulled it.
"He's scared to death," I said.
I have found over the years that children are more fond of ritual than most adults which is interesting to me. I am wondering if I will be reading The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza tonight. I would not be surprised.
Thursday, May 13, 2021
I am not making light of child labor, I promise. Just add this to the long list of things I feel guilty about. A long, long time ago I realized that guilt and shame are my default emotions and this little verse came to me which sort of sums it all up:
I guess that's why I adore my closest people so much. They DO know me and they still seem to like me okay. I don't take that sort of thing for granted. EVER.
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, okay?
Anyway, I realized I felt chilly and went to turn down (up?) the AC which had been set in the low seventies to see that it was 69 degrees in the house. What?!
I went outside and it was so cool that I went back and changed into my winter outfit which is a pair of long overalls and a long-sleeved shirt. And that's what I'm still wearing. Hell! I even put socks on!
It's been gray all day and damp as SpongeBob SquarePants' underwear. Not a day conducive to great activity. I finished the mask I was working on and I did a little more sewing on my dress. I also finally cleaned the hen house. I went through Miss Darla's nest and took four more eggs out of it that were unmarked. I hope I'm not messing up her process. I know the eggs cool every time I take her off the nest and she has them arranged exactly as she wants them and I do disturb that.
We just can't seem to find anything we want to watch together. We tried some other movie a few nights ago that we hadn't seen. Crazy, Stupid Love.
Perhaps the best part of it is that I do not feel a bit guilty for having such a slow, sweet day. I just feel relaxed.
Wednesday, May 12, 2021
Okay. This is the old rug. Can you believe that I have allowed that to exist in my house?
Here's the thing.
You get used to shit.
It's like that old story about the frog in the pot of water on the stove. He's fine, the water starts to heat up, nice, it's warm, great, and then it gets hotter and hotter and before he realizes he's past the point of no return and he's a boiled frog.
That rug is as ugly as a boiled frog. In fact, I think a dead animal on the floor might look better than that rug. Depending on what the animal was and how recently dead it happened to be.
ANYWAY, I started out this morning stressed as hell because we've been trying to find a place to stay in North Carolina this summer when we go up to visit the Weatherfords and although there are literally hundreds of Airbnb's and VRBO's available, you have to have your dates, you need to figure out what you can and cannot live with or without, and so forth. You might find exactly what you think you're looking for but then you see that the bed has a footboard and when your sleeping partner is over six and a half feet tall, that simply will not work. Or you find the perfect place and are ready to reserve and then you realize it's actually an apartment stuck on to another house and that won't do either because some of us don't want to be that close to other people and besides, two little boys may be coming to stay and they can make noise and so...
Or there's no stove.
Or no cell service.
Or you need 4-wheel drive to get down the driveway.
Or, or, or...
So I finally just left the house to go to town to do my shopping and went back to the same place where I found my bathroom rug which I do love, and found another rug that would do. It's not the perfect rug but it's an another universe of better than the one laying there now.
So I bought it.
We haven't it laid it out yet but that's next on the agenda.
Picture to follow.
Then I went to Costco and THEN I went to Publix.
You know all that mess about people lining up for gas? It's true. And get this- Florida isn't even dependent on the pipeline that was compromised. But I swear to you that people were lined up in their cars waaaaayyyyy down the road, waiting to get gas at Costco.
Fucking idiots! It's not this bad before hurricanes.
Then, to top it off (see what I did there?) there were people in Publix with no masks on. They still ask you to wear masks but our horseshit governor who thinks Trump's ass tastes like roses, has declared that there is no longer a need for a mask mandate.
One guy was walking around the store with at least four kids hanging off the cart and none of them were wearing masks and I swear, he wasn't even shopping. He was just...walking up and down the aisles with his well-dressed kidlings like it was a damn ride at Disney World.
What is wrong with people?
Well. I should talk. Look at that rug again. I will say though that as ugly and no doubt filthy as that rug is, it does not have covid, can not catch covid, and will not spontaneously combust if it is in the wrong container.
I could be wrong. As always.
We have now reserved and paid for a place to stay in NC in July so that's good news. I'm sure there will be something about it that we don't like but we'll have a bed and a bathroom and a stove and a place for the little boys to come and hang out. It's always an adventure. Remember that time Mr. Moon and I stayed in a basement apartment in Asheville that had the couple's college "artwork" all over the walls and also, a printed directive on the bed telling us that they certainly did not mind if people made love in the apartment and in fact, expected that they would, but to please, please, take the lovely comforter off of the bed before proceeding?
I'll never forget that.
No matter how much I'd like to.
Tuesday, May 11, 2021
Well, there's the rest of the carrots. I pulled them all except for one that had what I think was a monarch caterpillar on it. They're in a bread bag in the refrigerator right now. I cleaned out that refrigerator today. I didn't do the kind of clean-out where you take everything out including the shelves to wash them all down and then put them all back in and reorganize everything. But I did take everything out, shelf by shelf, and wiped the shelves down and I threw out a lot of stuff.
I was in the mood to throw out stuff. I've been in that mood all day. It's an angry, bitchy mood. Everything is frustrating me. Why do these moods suddenly come upon us? I sent the kids a picture of the rug in the Glen Den and wrote, "I can't take this thing for one more week."
And I meant it. It's the most hideous rug you've ever seen. It wasn't so bad when we bought it. It was stain-free at that time, of course, being brand new and I cannot imagine that I would buy a rug made of such horrid colors so obviously it's faded or something. It's now a sort of beige with highlights of brown and orangey brown. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times- LIFE IS TOO SHORT FOR BEIGE! And brown? Well, there are some rich browns that don't offend me but these are not those. I won't even comment on the orangish shades.
So- rug buying is back on the agenda because I AM going to throw that motherfucker away. I would not even insult anyone by asking if they wanted it.
I was going to clean out the hen house which desperately needs it but the cart I use was filled with potato vines and I didn't have the energy to call Mr. Moon, who was in town, to ask what he wanted me to do with them. I would rather just be slightly pissed off at the inconvenience than actually do anything about it so it's still filled with potato vines and the hen house is still poop-filled. Rather unbelievably, I did not throw any of Darla's precious eggs away. Lucky for her, or maybe unlucky for her, depending on how you look at it. I did take her off the nest and set her down beside it and went through all of the eggs and removed the ones that I hadn't marked. Three since yesterday. Dang hens. As Mr. Moon said, those other hens are saying, "Since you're already on the nest, let's make it worth your while."
That's exactly what they're thinking although probably not really because I'm not sure chickens think that way but that's what their instincts are telling them to do.
I really don't know shit except when it comes to chickenshit and that I DO know when I see.
It's rained on and off all day and that too has been frustrating because we need real rain. The kind that comes and stays, not the kind that flirts and leaves. A steadfast rain. A faithful rain. A loving rain of adequate proportions.
I did do some sewing today but not on my dress. My husband showed a mask that I'd made to a friend of ours and she admired it and so of course he said that I'd make her one. So I did make her one but it's too big for a woman and that was frustrating too. I started over with a smaller template but I haven't finished it. The pattern is so easy that after I start one I think, "Oh man. This'll be done in fifteen minutes!" and then for whatever reason, an hour later I'm thinking, "Shit. I forgot to put the nose wire in."
Now see? This day has not been any different than any other day. These are the sorts of frustrations that we all encounter daily. They are just life. But today I have taken every one of them personally and cursed myself, the universe, the colors brown and beige, and a few other things and beings that I am not going to name here.
Here's something pretty.
Of course I'm a little bit pissed that the darn thing laid down on the job. What the hell, gladioli? You had one job and you blew it!
Okay. Not really. Its main job was to bloom and it did.
Oh wait! Another Adventure in Aging!
Yeah. You've heard that list before.
And I still am incredibly grateful for all of them but fuck it.