As one thing will lead to another, one blogger will do the same. I often feel as if this blog-world is like a skein of wool. Pull one end and it keeps coming and coming and coming (oh my!) and we are all connected, somehow, although I refuse these days to read blogs in which I do not feel a heart-truth of a fire burning.
I think I've always been a bad girl at heart.
I think I've always been a good girl at heart.
I think I've always wanted to be the madonna AND the whore and is that too much to ask?
And so I read blogs which are the sweetest, sweetest pictures of family love and devotion and and I read blogs which are cries of desperation and pleas for redemption and I feel as at home in one place as I do in another.
I am a leo/cancer cusp and if you believe in that stuff it would explain a lot. WHY AM I NOT ONSTAGE AND FAMOUS?/WAIT! THE LAUNDRY IS NOT FOLDED!
Something like that.
Shit. What was I going to talk about?
Oh yeah. Supper.
When I came home from taking care of Owen it was just about dark and I went out and closed up the chickens and went around and turned all the water on to drip because it's supposed to get down in the low twenties here tonight and I went into the garden and pulled some onions and some cabbage leaves to cook. I had thought to make a stir fry with those and some peppers and mushrooms but then I went over to Ms. Radish King's and she directed me to the potwatcher and I started reading about pasta and capers and baby, I was done as applies to stir-fry and am about to go in the kitchen and saute those peppers and mushrooms with some tomatoes and garlic and a sweet onion and capers in olive oil and boil some pasta and I can't wait.
Mr. Moon is out of town and it's just me and my appetite, my tongue, my belly and I want pasta and god, I wish I had fresh basil but I do not. Well, it will be fine anyway.
And what does all of this have to do with madonnas and whores or bloggers for that matter?
I don't know and I don't care.
One thing, if you let it (and you should) leads to another and this night I shall be as pure as a madonna with fresh vegetables and olive oil dripping off my chin, and my pleasure shall be as a whore's as I eat it.
Thank-you, Radish King and thank-you, potwatcher, and thank-you, all of you, who come here and read what I write, whether holy or profane, and thank-you for what you write which inspires me always and influences me more than you can know.
Keep burning those heart-fires, keep reminding me that I am a good girl, I am a bad girl and that it's okay. It is truly okay, even as I am a grandmother and hold that boy in my arms, even as I am a witch and scream into the cold, cold wind, the trees sheltering over me, the great pleasures of this earth at my feet, the great questions and answers making themselves known to my soul.
Oh no, thank-you.ReplyDelete
You're part of a cool skein.ReplyDelete
One thing does lead to another in this bloggy world. And that is frickin' awesome!ReplyDelete
i know what you mean. i sure do.ReplyDelete
And I just finished eating the most incredibly delicious pasta carbonara that I got at potwatcher, too.ReplyDelete
It is a skein of wool, Mary Moon, it really is.
Thank you Ms. Moon. Sweet hugs to you tonight.ReplyDelete
Don't you think that the bad and the good fight within each of us? I am glad to read your words because you are infused with the whole mess of life. A kindred spirit on the journey.ReplyDelete
One word: Yum.ReplyDelete
I love the immediacy of your writings ... it's like jumping right into the middle of your experience, whether it's a hilarious moment with Owen or the wild skeins of thought running through your mind. Love your in-the-moment honesty. Love that you post about things like SPLAT. Sounds to me like something really gooey and disgusting that kids of ALL ages would enjoy flinging at walls ;-D
Actually, it reminds me of a product called Flubber. It was this neon-coloured goopy stuff in a plastic jar. You worked your fingers into it in a certain way and it made the most astonishing, juicy, realistic fart noises. Guaranteed hilarity. Gawd, I don't know anyone who doesn't (at least secretly) find farts hilarious. Whenever I get together with my cousins, we all regress to age four and shove bendy-straws into our armpits or the crook of our knees in order to make fart noises (Flubber's not available any more)!
Good girl ... bad girl ... You're both, and every tone of "girl" in between. So are we all ... Blessed be!
i so know what you mean...about blogs conecting...i just finished a post because my heart fire burns so bright this cold morning....and there you are..with your wise words...and again you came into ym world...thanky ou for doing this..and thank you for making me always coming backReplyDelete
Thank you Ms. Moon, for being able to express those contradictions that I am sure exist in us all.ReplyDelete
I find hope in that.
Everyone seems contemplative just now - looking, finding, asking - good and bad. Must be the time of year.ReplyDelete
Well said... Keep your fire burning...ReplyDelete
I love this postReplyDelete
Here's to the Madonnas and whores in us all
Stephanie- And back to you.ReplyDelete
Lisa- And so, my dear, are you.
Jill- Isn't it?
Angella- I am so glad you are part of the skein I use to knit my world.
Elizabeth- Ha! We both ate our pasta for the same reason. What a strange and delightful tiny miracle.
Mel's Way- And hugs to you.
Syd- And the older I get, the less I want these parts to fight within me. I want to embrace them all and give them honor.
Jaliya- I remember Flubber. And why ARE farts so funny? And burps? Owen laughs when I burp (of course I never fart) and he is only fifteen months old!
Thank-you for your sweet words.
Danielle- I'm holding you close. I swear.
Amber Elise- I am sure we all do feel all of these things.
Jeannie- Yep. It's the time of year to contemplate. I think you are right.
Dianne- I try.
Tiffany- Yes! Both!
I completely agree with all of this.ReplyDelete
I love that I found you however I did.
deb- Me too. Glad we found each other. And I have no idea how.ReplyDelete
Amen! And thank you!ReplyDelete
Mwa- No. Thank-YOU. You burn, baby. You do.ReplyDelete