Another Sunday

Sunday morning and the Church of the Batshit Crazy is not having services this day and the reason for this is that the Mistress of TCOTBSC is not in the mood.

If there were tenets in this church (which there are not and guess what? it's not really a church, either), it would be that if Ms. Moon is not in the mood to hold services, services will not be held.
You may adopt that same policy wherever it is that you preside over a branch of the church. Remember that.

Although yesterday was a lovely day in many aspects, I had to wear a bra for hours on end, had to try to remember how to be a social being (lovely to meet you!), and well, that's fucking enough to put Ms. Moon in a weird mood and wishing desperately to put on her overalls and go weed something. Which is what I'll be doing here in a moment and that, I suppose, is actually what Sunday services here consist of so not only am I in a weird mood, I'm a liar too.
Look. I just make this shit up as I go.
Obviously.

But it WAS a nice day in Monticello. And I did get to see not only people I would rather have not seen (and the older I get, the more of these people there seem to be), but people I adore and some good music too.
Here are some pictures and believe me, you'd just as soon not have too many words of mine to go with them today.
There would be more pictures but I am a bit shy about flashing the camera around in public places.

Two of the people I adore. Shayla and Waylon. Daddy B had to work.


Random kid in touch with his monkey roots.

Lis, Gabe and Lon. And a guy's head that I should have taken out of the picture. I'm too lazy.
Lis made me cry when she sang "Time."
She made Jan cry too.
Speaking of Jan, here's a picture I boldly took of the lovers' hands.

They came over after the festival as did Lon and Lis and some of the "young people" as I call the kids Jessie knows. Jack got the tour of my house and as he walked around he said, "Mary, I understand your feelings about organized religion but WHY do you have all these pictures of the Virgin?"
We were in my bathroom where some of my favorite Virgin pictures are hung.
"Oh. Don't even try to figure it out," I told him, and then pointed out my pictures of Bill Murray which are also in the bathroom.
It's a big bathroom.
"I think you're a secret Catholic," he said.
Ha! Jack knows better than that. He spent thirty-something years working with the mentally ill. Need I say more?

The County Courthouse in the light of the setting sun.

It was, as I said, a good day. And when we got back to the house, I heated up the dinner I'd made for Mr. Moon's arrival- the one he did not make on Friday night- and we sat around the table and shared it. It felt like a small miracle and somehow magic that I had this entire venison
sirloin with potatoes and carrots and mushrooms and pot gravy all ready to heat up and serve.
And whenever I sit down at a table with people I love, it always seems like a holy service.
So I suppose that was our Church Ritual for the week.

And Mr. Moon is home and I am glad.


So is his dog. Buster. Who worships Mr. Moon like a god. As well he should.

And now I'm off to weed and perhaps transplant and try to figure out what it was I bought yesterday at the plant sale and have in pots and I will plant those things too.

And there are clothes to hang on the line and Jessie is here playing mandolin and it is Sunday, a hard day for me sometimes, but at least I do not have to put on a bra.
At least I do not have to try to remember how to be social.

And for all of that and so much more we here at the Church of the Batshit Crazy give profound and deep thanks.

Have a good Sunday, y'all, and may you be open to any and all miracles (like this one?) and may you take them into your heart, ponder them, and be thankful as well. But mostly what I would wish for you is that you do not have to wear a bra if you do not want to.

Amen.