Friday, January 7, 2011

I'm Not Depressed, Even Though It Sounds Like It

I'm feeling old this evening and fragile, my knees like rusted hinges that may or may not bend, depending on the wind and the wind keeps blowing, mild, almost like spring one second and then a breath of winter's hint the next.

All I did today was go to Costco and Publix and buy a bunch of food and stuff you need to run a house, the soaps, the light bulbs, the toilet paper, the hot sauce, the coffee, a new broom.
I went to sweep yesterday and looked at my broom and realized it is as angled an one of those fancy O-Cedar ones but it's not supposed to be and so I spent eight bucks on a new one and here I am- another year of sweeping all ready to go.

Of course it was trips into the house with all that stuff and food and oh yes, I did stop by the thrift store and bought white linen napkins, stiff with some old, old ironing, perfect in every way for a buck a piece. I would like to sew them all together to make a dress of, they are that beautiful.

But after I put everything away and Mr. Moon came and went to go to the woods, I laid down on the bed and read some of the Keith Richard's book (and every day I want to put up some new Richard's Quote of the Day but there's too many to choose from and so I haven't) and then I slept so hard that Kathleen and Vicki came by and I didn't even hear them, and when someone comes here the dogs bark and sing and chorus and howl, especially if it is Kathleen because they love her and it's like opera and I slept right through it.

Well. It's been a long week and I was awake a lot last night with my hands waking me up, numb and tingling and I don't know why. They've been this way for years but they are sometimes better than others and last night they were just bad. Usually they get this way when I do a lot of knitting or crocheting or sewing or gardening but I have done very little of any of those things lately.

Just old. I'm just old.

But lah, the sun is going down and the setting sun paints a different picture than the rising one and it's beautiful too, not so glowy, but beautiful. Red and pink and gold.

The chickens finally came out of the hen house today, all but one and so I guess that the trauma is easing, as trauma will. If you are lucky. Sometimes I wish we humans had the same ability to forget and recover that chickens do. But even animals will remember a cruelty, a dire danger which was presented to them.
It is what keeps us alive although humans seem to need to repeat experiences over and over to see if the danger is still there- are we the thrill seekers of the animal kingdom? I think so.

And thus we tame the Wild West, we shoot the rapids, we climb the mountains, we tempt fate every time we get on the road.

I'd just as soon not.

The sun is going down, the wind has settled down, Mr. Moon will be home soon, with deer or without. We will go to Thomasville tomorrow, we need to make that sausage, I bought crushed red peppers and sage today and smoked paprika, and I have no idea how to make sausage but it seemed like smoked paprika would be good in it.
We shall see. That ground venison is not getting any younger.

And neither am I, although I bought supplies for the house which will last awhile and I suppose I'll live to use all that toilet paper. It's down to that, I guess- buying toilet paper in bulk and walnuts, too, the aisles of the Costco assuring us that we will live long enough to drink all of this coffee, eat all of these berries, use all of this detergent. It's like a life-insurance policy. How can you die if you have twelve chicken breasts in the freezer, thirty rolls of toilet paper in the cabinet, two pounds of walnuts, unopened?

You just can't, I guess, unless you do, and then the people who live on can use the rest. Which is better to receive from a dead person? Six month's supply of toilet paper or a diamond ring?

I'll let you decide. I think I'm going to go make muffins.


  1. Um. I would think the ring.

    But nobody's dying round here right now. Nobody.

    I don't think you're old, I think you maybe just need more maintenance than you get. You need your bones put in the right place, your muscles untrapped and long delicious professional massages. Maybe you should get a hot tub! Why don't you have a hot tub? Is that a Yankee thing to do?

    I too am unmaintained, it's starting to show on me as well :(

  2. Toilet paper, easy. Though I could do without being left the walnuts; they give me canker sores if I eat too many. Which come to think of it isn't probably a problem for most people who have a sense of, you know, MODERATION! Your sky is lovely there, as are you.

  3. Unless it's a lifetime supply of toilet paper, I'd like the ring.

    I'm sorry to hear of the tingling in your hands. My husband has the same thing and it's very debilitating. He says that acupuncture has helped him, but he doesn't have the time to go. Have you tried that?

  4. I'm practical and my knuckles are too swollen for rings these days, so I'd take the toilet paper. Yes, you will live long enough to make many more trips to Costco. And when that is too much trouble, PeaPod or some other service will bring it to you. :)
    I have learned that pushing a heavy cart for any amount of time makes my hands as numb as the neuropathy from my bad neck. I'm not sure if it's pinched nerves or why it happens, I just know that it does. I'm more likely to pull the cart around as push it, just to avoid the useless hands after.
    Too much sitting and typing does me in too, but that's the compressed nerves in the neck. My joint pain comes and goes and is not nearly as constant as yours. I'd be downright bitchy if it happened with any irregularity.
    You're a chicken tending, dog cleaner upper, gardening, grandson watching, movie making, playhouse acting, sausage making, cooking and cleaning and homemaking wife, mamma, grandma force of nature, so little wonder why the aches and pains and bad knees might get to you. I think you need a soak in a tub and a massage too!
    Good luck with that sausage, there's always so much to do!

  5. I saw the physio yesterday and felt she told me off for not exercising my left leg as well as I might. The truth is I can't get the hang of certain of the exercises she sets. My muscles will not respond as they might were I a younger person.

    Age sneaks up on you, Ms Moon, when you least expect it. It arrived at my doorstep a few years ago and now more and more I think in those terms, but less than ten years ago I did not.

    My body is old but my mind seems to get younger, more fit and agile every day. Yours, too Ms Moon judging by your posts, so beautifully expressed.

    There's nothing old about your mind. Pity about the body. But take comfort. It happens to us all, only Owen's too far away from it now to notice.

  6. Jo- Yes, people have hot tubs around here. We talk about it but it hasn't happened.

    Kori- Moderation??!! What's that?

    Lisa- They're ready. Come get 'em.

    Elizabeth- No. But I should. Time. Yes. No.

    Mel- Those carts get my hands too! I think it IS a pinched nerve. And I'm about to go get in the bath tub to soak. Thanks for the reminder.

    Elisabeth- As Truvy says in Steel Magnolias: Time is marching on and eventually you will realize it is marching right across your face!

    And hips and knees and hands and elbows and....

  7. You're so brilliant. I'm sorry about your hands. I'm glad you're not depressed. I don't know what I am. I keep crying. I'm a leaf that's half unfurled. Stuck. I wil take the toilet paper and the coffee. I love yr napkin love. I'm glad you got a nap. I need to fly out and see your play. I think it would heal me.
    Goodnight moon.

  8. enough is enough! time we swab our cheeks, send samples to a lab, and confirm our shared genes!

    ypu NEED hot suace to run a house? i cain't run a house without hot sauce, either.

    yes, i said cain't.


  9. Bethany- Oh, you sweet thing. You will unfurl. I know you will. And I doubt I could heal anyone of anything but I might make you laugh.

    Adrienne- Crystal and Louisiana. I already had Tabasco. Yeah, we're related. I just don't know from which branch or twig. Whatever, we are.

  10. Darling Ms. Moon, I have missed the ability to comment on your work. I read it on my phone, but the comments don't seem to post from there - go figure. If there's any neuropathy going on with you, I am sending love and light for healing; this is at the core of what has debilitated Rodney pretty profoundly so I do hope it's not that. I've been thinking that there's sort of a moment that comes to each of us when age kicks the shit out of us, as though our warrantees have expired. Suddenly we need reading glasses and our knees hurt and, oh, you know. Mostly I wanted you to know that I've been reading, laughing and crying, and continue to be inspired by your work here. Love you, dear.

  11. In her advanced 80's, my aunt used to say, "Well that's the last pair of (fill in the blank) I'll ever buy." I didn't like it. Goes against the grain of expecting continuance.

    Except that she was right, her time was limited. She was smarter than I was, to accept life for what it was. But eventually she passed on and I had to accept it too.

    I think you live as far as you can see and don't worry about the rest.

  12. I want to comment all night long. So much to say about all that's on your mind. But I will tell a short story, a story that will connect our lives.

    You speak of toilet paper. Back in 1991, we moved way up North along the Canadian border where I took a new job which was to start in June. My oldest daughter stayed in St. Paul to work all Summer and be ready to start school at the University of Minnesota in September.

    Instead of the kid going off to college, she stayed put and we left town. Before we left, I told her that she needed to think about things like toilet paper and shampoo so she wouldn't run out. She was killed in an automobile accident four days after we left town.

    When we went to her apartment to clean out her stuff, we found a large 24 pack of toilet paper.
    She had taken her Father's advice, but didn't live to use it all.

    You can see how your post reminded me of this story. I feel good being able to tell it. I don't think I ever did before.

    Thank you.

    So, what kind of hot sauce do you use?

    Thanks for your wonderful heart felt comment at my place. I appreciate it very very much.


  13. Angie- Thank-you for those sweet words, girl.

    Kathleen Scott- I wasn't really making a statement on my mortality so much as just realizing how we humans really do think we'll live forever. Your aunt WAS wise.

    Spadoman- That story tears my heart. She did listen to her father. I am glad you told it here.
    Bless you.
    Hot sauce? I use Crystal and Louisiana and Tabasco mostly. I have dabbled in others but always come back to those.

  14. Crystal (the extra hot) is a mainstay here at Spadopville. I also use Cholula and Tapitio for burritos.


    And thanks for LETTING me tell the story here. This was the place for it.

  15. Love the linen napkins.

    Sorry your hands are hurting *virtually massages them from afar*

    Give some Keith Richards quotes. Whatever you can (time wise) afford to do.

  16. You speak of yourself as old but you really don't seem old in body or spirit to me. Old is really a state of mind for me. My mother said that at 95 she still felt like a 25 year old inside. I like that. I will keep that attitude alive in me, I hope.

  17. Mary, I've found your blog thanks to Deb at Talk at the Table, and I'm so glad I did. Such a poignant but beautiful writing that mixes the everyday, like trips to Costco, with musings on bigger things, with lines like "And thus we tame the Wild West, we shoot the rapids, we climb the mountains, we tempt fate every time we get on the road." The pictures you chose for this post are also beautiful; there's something about them -- the light, I think.

  18. Spadoman- I am honored that you did.

    Perovski- Ah! There you are! I would love a hand massage! Oh, I would appreciate it so much.
    And yes, I promise- some quotes soon.

    Syd- Sometimes I just FEEL so damn old.
    I sure wish I didn't.

    Beth Lowe- I am so glad you found me through dear Deb. Please come back often, comment whenever you feel like it. You are welcome here anytime.

  19. I bulk buy sometimes and then have nowhere to put it. Five people in a normal house makes for too much fucking STUFF I tell you. I hate the STUFF just now with a vengeance.

    I want to make muffins. Isn't it funny how you can make a difference all the way across the world? I might make some muffins tomorrow. The other day, I made Bethany laugh and she had a sweater full of powder sugar and she was so far away from me. I love this internet thing. Love it. And you, obviously. I hope you had good muffins.


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