Friday, December 17, 2010
Temperature- 60 degrees.
It is raining.
Which is fine for the thirsty earth and the chickens like it too as it seems to bring up bugs and makes the ground softer for their scratching needs. I love to watch them scratch. Step forward, scratch, scratch; step back, examine ground for results. Repeat until fatigued at which point- find a sheltered spot and take a nap.
Yes. It's one of those days. Not a bad day. Except for my hips and knees which, okay, let me just say that if they did hip and knee transplants, they would not use mine. Or at least, they shouldn't.
"What the fuck?" the patient would say after the surgery.
"That dead person's knees and hips are worse than the ones I HAD!"
"But they looked fine," the doctor would say. The doctors always say this when I get an X-Ray. Okay. I won't lie. I've never had an X-Ray of my knees. They are what they are. Old. Well-used.
My mother tells me about her knee problems. I don't mention mine. Why should I? She can't do a damn thing about them. Neither can you but here I am, blah, blah, blah. Jo will tell me to go to an osteopath. I still don't know if there even is such a thing in North Florida. Maybe there is.
Maybe I just like to bitch.
Yeah. I do. I like to bitch.
The tree is still outside. The Christmas tree that is. It's a fine tree and it only cost ten dollars. What a steal! Perhaps Mr. Moon and I will make a martini and set it up tonight. We'll put lights on it. Twinkle-twinkle and pine smell. Lovely.
Owen's coming soon. I wonder what devilment he'll get up to today. I knew it was going to be warm today and was thinking we could take a good, long walk. Not in this rain. Maybe it will clear. His Bop said he'd come home early to play with him. Owen thinks his grandfather is god. I'm pretty sure about this. When he sees his grandfather, he runs towards him with outstretched arms like a lover in a field of daisies. Then his grandfather lifts him up, up, up into the air, up into the sky because he is a giant. "Bop," says Owen. All is well with his world.
I understand. That Bop is a pretty great guy. Sometimes I wish I could sit on his hip. It's a pretty fine perch, I would imagine, from which to view the world.
Well. That's it. It's almost Christmas. Yesterday the obituary page spilled over onto another page and a half. I guess it's true what they say about people dying near Christmas. Blake Edwards has died. If he had never done another thing but make Victor Victoria for his wife it would have been enough. Mary Poppin's breasts, bared for all the world to see. The singing, the dancing, Robert Preston and James Garner. Throw in The Pink Panther and well...genius.
I'll forgive him for Ten.
But I think about Julie Andrews and how she must be mourning her love. I think of all the families who lose a loved one near the holidays and I mourn for them. It's a hard time of year and today represents that well. In Steel Magnolias, Shelby says, "I love cloudy days. On cloudy days I feel God's not trying very hard, so I don't have to either."
Amen, Shelby. I'm not going to try very hard today myself. I'll just try to keep Owen safe and happy. And that'll be enough.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Step back and look for results. Repeat.
And if I had an ounce of estrogen left in my body, I'd bare my breasts for you in honor of Blake Edwards.
Be well, y'all. Stay alive.
Labels: Blake Edwards, Julie Andrews
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I love that bottle tree. Keeps the bad spirits bottled up.ReplyDelete
I had to laugh about sitting on Mr. Moon's hip and baring your breasts. Try that and you will get a good reaction from him I guarantee.
I'm sorry, but for once we disagree. I loved Ten. I loved Dudley Moore SO MUCH. I especially loved the movie, Arthur. In fact, Arthur is my life, without the money and the sarcastic butler, of course. I could use a Hobson. Who couldn't?ReplyDelete
I love you EVEN MAS than Dudley Moore, though.
you are my bottle tree....ReplyDelete
all your brazen azul spilling out into the atmosphere.
all your clear moody cobalt tinkering in the breeze of life with such
clarity and wit.
so willing to shake a fist at mundane,
a tail feather at fate,
your steadfast true blue heart hanging in all our open arms.
My father had a massive heart attack and died on Christmas Eve six years ago, but my precious son was born on Christmas morning almost 29 years ago, so I guess I have two events that somehow balance things out for me. I hope your hips and knees start to feel better soon!ReplyDelete
blake edwards dead?? no...I saw Victor Victoria for the first time in years and years the other day...it is SO good...were he and julie andrws a couple?? i didnt knowReplyDelete
i love love love the bottle tree....
One of the things I love about reading you is that it all comes through. Gray and rainy, sunny, full-moon, black. You and Bop and your family are real life. And you make it good.ReplyDelete
Hope your holidays are warm and loving.
It has been raining almost every day since I got home here to sunny CA - a pretty soggy season here, too.ReplyDelete
Love the near and far perspective of the bottle tree picture. Snuggle up with the Grand Boy, Mary Moon. It is a great gift to him that you are there and vice versa. x0 N2
Syd- He would fall over. Mostly because of my weight.ReplyDelete
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- Okay. I totally agree with you on Dudley. It was those damn cornrows that spoiled it for me.
Rebecca- Owen spent some time today smacking the bottles. I stood and watched him and thought of you.
Lois- Life is odd, isn't it?
Screamish- Yes. And yes.
Kathleen Scott- Write what you know. You know?
N2- As I always say, Owen is more blessing to me than I am to him.
I can't let a Victor Victoria reference get away without bringing up the amazing Ms. Lesley Ann Warren and her phenomenal supporting role. No one in the history of cinema has ever made the phrase "I'm horny" sound less appealing or more shrill.ReplyDelete
PS - Hope your knees feel better!
Babes' grandmother died just after Christmas and that was strange - all the party things still around.ReplyDelete