Monday, February 22, 2010

Monday and It's Raining Again

The rain curtains, then sheets, and it drums down hard on the tin roof and is especially loud in my bathroom which was made from a porch and I wish I could record the sound and give it to you.

The dogs refuse to go out, the cardinals and finches refuse to give up breakfast. The tiny wild things are hardier and braver than the bigger domestic things and that's a fact. And the chickens are somewhere inbetween, at least Miss Feral Carol who I caught in the flower bed outside the kitchen, pecking and scratching in the rain.


She looks miserable, but I doubt she is. She could go into the garage if she wanted. She has taken to laying her eggs on Mr. Moon's work bench and cannot be dissuaded. He finally gave up and made her a nest which sits there now. Carol is a strong-minded bird.

I try to get the dogs to go out and they look at me as if I were insane and then go pee in a hidden corner of my recently mopped floors, the curs, the beasts, the banes of my life while the birds eat, unconcerned and the papa cardinal is a spot of scarlet in the gray of the day of my tiny world.

I slept almost eleven hours last night and it was good. I was so tired yesterday. I hung the laundry on the line and I sat on my ass or haunches in the garden, pulling weeds, one by one, as Mr. Moon, in his overalls and no shirt, set fence posts and hauled huge timbers and worked his ass off and looked damn fine doing it.

Karen and David dropped by on their way back to Nashville and it was so good to see them. So good. I have known them since high school and David is the one who talked me into moving to Tallahassee in 1974. History. They baby-sat for Hank and May when my first husband I went to see Bruce Springsteen in 1979 and David has played since on some of Springsteen's albums. They have four daughters and five grandchildren and I was at one of Karen's births and she at one of mine. We have (ahem) been old, old tripping buddies. They and my first husband and I shared a tiny house back in 1975 in a small black community that sat on the edge of acres and miles of cow fields. Ah lah. We used to eat black-eyed peas and rice and cornbread together and wait for the mushrooms to come on. The days. Karen and David have known each other since they were tiny children and have been married for thirty-something years. These are the kinds of friends that you pick up with where you left off, no matter how long it's been, and there is such comfort in that sort of friendship. I know that Karen will want a beer and that David will want coffee. I can set out Triscuits and leftover tuna salad from lunch and everyone is happy. I went to mix up my meatloaf while they were here and apologized for doing so but Karen said, "Don't treat us like company!" and she meant it and I didn't. I begged them to stay the night in the Panther Room, to share our meat loaf and arugula, but they had to get back to Nashville. I was sad to see them go.


And so it goes. Life patters along like a river, does it not? And the frogs croak and the distant thunder rumbles and I am feeling peaceful today except that I am yearning with all my heart to see my children. I have not seen my oldest two in weeks except for seeing May at the play, briefly. I miss them. I am not the sort of mother who can go for long periods of time not seeing her children without suddenly waking up and saying, "I have to get my hands on them!" I have called May but got her voice mail and I know that Hank has company but I am going to call him at work as soon as I am done here. And I know I must go to the grocery store. I am waiting for the rain to calm down. But I am doing that patiently. The garden needs the water, and I think I'll wash my sheets, even if I can't dry them on the line.

It's the little things, it's the big things, it's all the things. It's the cardinal at the feeder, it's the potatoes in the ground, it's the friends you've had forever, it's the rain coming down.

And there's not much more for me to say beyond all of that.
Perhaps I'll finish up Owen's cashmere chicken today. Perhaps. Dreams CAN come true. I know this for a fact.

Stay cozy, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

26 comments:

  1. Hey there. I've been missing you. Lost these nice long comments I wrote you the other day and felt discouraged and gave up. Ah Monday and here you are. So reliable and faithful and dear. Thanks for sharing your life and love and heart. I hope you see your babies super soon and get lots of lovins. I'm sure they miss you too.

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  2. Rain, snow, change of season my damn little beasts won't go out either. My little girl is the sneakiest of all.

    I love watching the cardinals at the feeder. It give me hope as I sit here waiting impatiently for spring.

    Have a lovely day, Ms Moon.

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  3. I want to see a photo of the cashmere chicken when it's done please. That shit sounds charming to me.

    It is raining in Buttfuck, too.

    Love you MM!

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  4. I'm watching the heavy clumps of snow fall from the pine tree boughs. It's gray, cold and lovely, I suppose. I too will let the weather be, wash my sheets and be grateful. Go start some seed sets, force a few bulbs and hopefully walk the dog - I have a lot of dog guilt right now, so I will think of a happy boy snuggling a cashmere chicken. Oh the joy of it.

    Your post is wonderful, I particularly enjoyed reminiscing about the kind of friends you've had forever, taking up where ever you left off or where ever you are now. And oh my to the shrooms, those are the most interesting kinds of friends. What do you think, Ms. Moon, our minds would make of that now, in the throes of menopausal madness? Maybe it's what the doctor should order, who's to say? Could be a breakthrough or a breakdown though, I'm not sure I've enough strength to take one of those trips as tired as I am lately!

    Thanks for sharing the lovely image of you and Mr. Moon working hard in the yard, and looking good doing it.

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  5. Until Wednesday we are supposed to have sunshine. We are in the middle of nearly a week of sunshine. It felt heavenly, even with a heavy heart to be outside.

    B.Loved took me to one of my favorite nurseries to get some organic fertilizer and amendments for the soil, ending buying a gorgeous Italian plum and another Meyer lemon. I hate to shop but take me to a nursery or a hardware store and I am a certified maniac.

    So with much caution and walking like an old woman because my back does hurt a lot, I will make sure the plum is in the right place, the Meyer lemon gets acquainted with the other two in the green house, and I will try to get something done in my atelier that waits patiently for me to clean and put things back they way they are meant to be. Monday, Monday,
    doesn't it always feel like a promise?

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  6. Hey mama mama, we'll have lunch tomorrow and that'll be nice. Maybe Cuban?

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  7. I got all distracted when you talked about Carol -- I've been wondering how she's doing.

    I want to see a picture of Owen's cashmere chicken too.

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  8. Oh to sleep 11 hours!!! I can only dream. It seems that lately I am not able to stay asleep for longer than 5 hours, and it's torture to even try. Besides, I get these recurring nightmares where I'm at the doctor's and he's staring at my breasts and when I look down there's nothing there, but a cavity.

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  9. Lovely day.

    That Mr. Moon gets more impressive all the time. He lets Feral Carol lay in the Garage Mahal??? Does a chicken shit to and from the nest? In the Garage Mahal? And he made her a nest box? He's one sweet man. I can see why you love him.

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  10. As so often happens, your words comfort me. Thank you for that.

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  11. ah..i have this kind of friends too...you might only see once year nowadays (after beeing close for years) but its just like you have spoken the other day...nothing strange or foreign..no uncomfortable silnce..you just pick it up where you left it...thats the best proof that a friendship is really a healthy one...

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  12. Bethany- I am so sorry your comments got lost. Who knows why? But I am glad you're back.
    And yes, I am going to see Hank tomorrow and May on Wednesday.

    Mel's Way- Stealthy dogs. Damn them! It's warmish here today but I hear it is going to get cold again.

    Ms. Bastard- Don't hold your breath on the chicken.

    Jo- I'm glad.

    Mel- Let me first say that Mr. Moon looked good doing it. Me? Not so much. But as to your question: I have pondered this myself and all I can come up with is that I don't think I could handle it. My psyche is fragile enough as it is. But sometimes I think it might be good for me. I don't think I have the courage, though.

    Allega- I wish we could visit a nursery together. Or maybe five of them! I need to buy some lemon trees, as I said, and it's such a joy to find new plants, to take them home, to make them a new home here. I hope your back heals quickly and please remember to let it! Okay? Don't do too much, even if the sun IS shining.

    DTG- Cuban always works for me. Can't wait to see you!

    Jill- I think Carol was just going through a broody period. She seems perfectly fine and is laying us her big, pretty eggs again.

    Angie- Hmmmm. Sounds like anxiety to me. Going without sleep is the worst. I used to fight sleep but I don't any more. I love it, I need it, it keeps me sane. And because my children are grown, I can actually get it. I wake up many times a night with hot flashes and numb hands but then I go back to sleep and it is heaven.

    Kathleen Scott- He IS a sweet man. And Carol doesn't seem to shit in the garage. I am just hoping that the next time he gets up in that big boat of his he doesn't discover that she actually has been. He might shoot her if that happens.

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  13. Such a sweet post -- it's a prose poem, really.

    Love to you...

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  14. "Feral Carol" -- I just love that name!!!

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  15. For some reason, I'm kind of sad I missed David and Karen's visit. Maybe because I would have liked to listen to your philosophies some more, and heard about Nashville music... oh, and I would have probably bothered David to listen to the new Ben Sollee album that I have and asked him again about my future boyfriend, Jason Mraz. Heehe.

    I sure do love you, Mama!

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  16. Elizabeth- It was a sweet morning.

    Pretty things- She is feral. And so we named her Carol. She came from the house next door and even though we have put her back in her own yard, she flies right back to ours. She does not like to be part of a flock, I think.

    HoneyLuna- I believe we were too tired for too much philosophizing last night. But David did ask about you and said again how much he loved that Ben Sollee CD and how much he was looking forward to the new one. I have them Lis's CD to take home. I wish you had been here too. You don't really know Karen and she's a sweet woman and a hoot! She told us how when she and David were little and lived down the road from each other, she used to go and spy on him, playing with his friends. Also, David asked why you don't have a boyfriend and you could have asked him then about Jason. I bet he'd introduce you to him.

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  17. Thank you, Ms. Moon. And wouldn't you know it, but I'm an overly anxious person.

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  18. Angie M- Oh really? I never would have guessed. (Ha!)

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  19. Life patters on like a river. Yes indeed it does, my friend. Well said.

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  20. Aunt Becky- Seems your river is flowing nicely these days.

    Michelle- Of course!

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  21. I am that kind of mother and am determined to stay that way. Thanks for showing me it's possible.

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  22. Was that Springsteen concert in 1979 in Jacksonville? I was there!

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  23. Mwa- Oh. It's definitely possible.

    E- Yes indeed! Where you were seated? We were stage right, slightly behind the band and Bruce had the flu that night but you sure couldn't tell. Do you remember? What a night. I wore a purple dress. He sang The River.

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