Four-thirty in the afternoon. Time for the fox to show up.
And he did.
The chickens just FREAK and now the dogs have caught on and run out to bark. They can't get to the hen house but it's just a few feet away from where their fence ends and their barking does get the fox packing back to the woods.
I'm sorry but this is just really annoying. And you know, I would not mind at all if Mr. Moon shot him. Oh yeah, I'd be upset for awhile but it would pass. I know the fox must be getting in to my neighbor's chickens and they have NO compunction about shooting anything that's getting to their animals so they may beat us to it.
Look- I'm a live and let-live sort of woman and would no more kill a snake or a gator or a shark for the hell of it (or approve of anyone else doing it) than fly to the moon but this fox is after MY CHICKENS!
Oh hell. I'm just pissed off right now. I'm pissed because of the fox although I fully know he can't help it. And mostly I'm pissed at myself because I thought I'd gotten all the damn forms filled out that I was supposed to for Mother's admittance to the assisted living and hell no. I did not. There are still health-care surrogate forms and DNR forms and DAMMIT! why didn't I see those? Back to town tomorrow.
I am a fucking moron.
I hate forms. Hate them.
I went to Kathleen's party and I'm so glad I went. It was lovely, seeing how beloved she is and also, hearing story after story of how much influence she has had in how Florida regulates pesticides and how much fun her coworkers have had with her over the years. There were stories...
And the food?
Oh my god.
So that was good. It was only after that when things began to go downhill and I picked up the forms from the doctor's office and then went to Mother's house to get another piece of information that Mr. Moon needed but it wasn't there and I called him and he's now thinking he probably already has it. He has fifty different irons on the fire and I'm trying to help and I can't even get one damn thing right. This whole thing is making all of us crazy.
I went to Goodwill. It's been months. And I looked through the dresses and at a lot of shit and all I could think about was how much shit I have and how I don't even want THAT shit and I wondered why we all live so damn long now. If all the old ladies my age and up just died, then there'd be all this cool stuff for the young, feisty women raising children. Those women NEED our shit and we're holding on to it and buying up the other shit, too. Not to mention taking up parking spaces and drinking water and eating food that children could be using. Okay, the children don't need the parking spaces but their feisty young moms do.
Well, I almost bought one white tank top but when I got to the cash register a young, feisty woman was up there buying a lot of cool shit so I just put the shirt back and left feeling ridiculous and used-up and stupid but I did at least take in the shit I've had in the back of my car for months now to donate.
Yes. I am overusing the word "shit" but that's just too fucking bad.
I don't really think all the old women my age and up should just die but honestly- what the hell? I know I still help with taking care of my grandson and there may be more grandchildren to come. I'd be surprised if there weren't. It's just one of those days. And being around Mother just gives me a glimpse of the things to come and I swear to God, if I hear the story about how when she auctioned off all the things in our old house the auctioneer went and made her a little tool kit which he thought a single woman might need ONE MORE GODDAM TIME I think I'm going to scream. Bless her heart. It's not her fault. But it's like with the fox- I can't help it if it's not her fault or the foxes fault, it's still annoying the shit out of me.
Yes, Mother, please do tell me that these pictures were ones you bought in Sambuca (she must mean Sicily) again. Please. I am not sure about those pictures yet except that I KNOW I DO NOT LIKE THEM NOR HAVE I EVER! And NO, you do not need to take the tool kit with you to your new home because either Mr. Moon or the folks at the home will do whatever you might need to do with that tool kit with their own tools and NO PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME THE STORY OF THE TOOL KIT AGAIN!
And see- look- this is going to be me in twenty-seven years. I know it. I'm already headed in that direction. I do it right here. I tell the same damn stories over and over again. And it scares me and it makes me want to just drop dead of heat stroke before I ever get to the point where people around me are rolling their eyes and checking their watches every time I open my mouth.
And god, I try. I try to just be compassionate and listen to the stories and nod my head and agree with her and I try to reassure her for the ten thousandth time that she can put her bed anywhere in that room that she wants and that yes, we're going to take care of everything. Yes. We will. We are. That I know it's really, really hard and no, Mom, I don't think you'll need your took kit and yes, you told me that story.
Oh fuck. Fucking forms and fucking foxes and fucking life that gets so damn hard- harder than I even know. I've only ever seen the SHADOW of hard and I know it. And that is just about too hard for me.
I know I've repeated this more than once but Mr. Moon's daddy used to say a thing when he had exhausted all avenues of a problem that he'd done everything he was big enough to do.
I think about that and I think about how small I feel. Small enough to crawl into kernel of corn to take a little nap. Small enough to walk through chicken wire. Small enough to fit onto the head of a pin. I want to throw up my hands and say, "Done! I've done all I'm big enough to do and haven't any of you noticed how tiny I am?"
No. They have not. I suppose I resemble a normal-sized human being.
Well, looks can be deceiving.
And in the interest of that heat-stroke death, I believe I will now go out and do yard work.
And if you're pissed off, please don't hesitate to tell me what about. Unless it's ME that's pissing you off, in which case, I just don't want to hear about it.
Yours truly...Ms. Moon
I got a chuckle or two out of relating to this... and the thought that if you just stopped listening to your mother, you might be better off. Is that terrible?ReplyDelete
Oh you made me laugh esp the last line.ReplyDelete
I hope you swore enough to let some of it go.
But if not swear some more and tell me it all again.
I will listen to you forever.
Oh my God, us young(ish) women need our mothers so much. So much.ReplyDelete
i had to help transition my grandma from assisted living to a nursing home. the forms had children who needed to be attended to, i feel your pain.ReplyDelete
I work in Long Term Care and yes indeed there are far too many folks sitting in huge geri-chairs. They get spoon fed pureed food, they shit, the babble about nothing and are no longer cognizant. They get wheeled in front of the TV where they sleep. There is no quality of life. When they get sick they get pumped full of antibiotics. Most of them are only alive because of medications. It is sad. It is cruel. We treat our pets with more dignity.ReplyDelete
But...my mom is dying right now. (She was given 2 - 3 months.) She does not want to die. She is 65. Other than her recent confusion from pain medication she is still awesome. Damn it, I still need her! My kids need her! My dad needs her because they are finally retired and worked their whole fucking lives to grow old together. I have a niece coming any day now and she will never know my mom and how much love she has to give.
YOUR kids need you too because we always need out mom. Owen needs you. My kids would not be the people they are today if it was not for my parents. Grandparents have a special love. Every child needs a grandparent that thinks he/she is the best thing on the face of the planet because god knows the world is a shit hole.
I don't know the answer. Everything is fucked up. One man I used to look after was a mean son-of-a-bitch who beat his wife. He lived until he was 91. The old fuck. And there are people out there that have children with severe disabilities that are grateful for every day and these children will not live full normal lives. It is fucked up I tell you.
I feel for the fox too. I love all living things/ Can he be caught an relocated?
ha...dont you girls die!! we need moms indeed..well i dont need a mom but a mother..:/ReplyDelete
anyway..you can die when you are old..but..thats not today...
You need a drink.ReplyDelete
As a person who fills out a whole lot of forms, I know what it does to you.
Have a drink. Make an appointment to have a massage at some point.
And keep telling your stories over and over. I like to hear them.
Isn't that fantastic? I'm thinking about you galumpering through Goodwill.
Absolutely us young(er) women need our mamas! You are so needed.ReplyDelete
Things are pretty good around here right now, but I still have a piss list. Here it is:
-My husband hasn't opened the damn pool. It's very hot. We asked him to and he said he'll get to it. We asked him again and he got snippy. (Total first world problem, right? I'd do it myself but it's disgusting and I don't know how to put the pump together.)
-The kids are bickering nonstop today. For the love of pete, can't they just leave each other alone?
-The tadpoles are dying.
Mary...I can commensurate with you on the mommy level. Almost every time I visit when it isn't a good day I come home drained. I am in a sour mood and frankly just want to be left alone. My Love is sometimes good and sometimes he just starts to want to talk about my mom's decline and I have to tell him...enough. I don't want more dumped on my head. She is declining and I see it plain as I see my hands.ReplyDelete
Age..yes, seeing our parents age brings full force our demise. Too quick. Before when they can deal with their own life we can just ignore the aging but once they lose the ability it strikes us and all I can do is add the math up of how much longer before I become an issue.
I have my boxing gloves on and I will not give in. On those tough days I have a nice glass of wine and wallow. Pray for a good day the next day. Give me strength.
Dammit, Mary.....are you talking 'bout me?......84 and too onery to die....but today I am considering it because I just finished filling out a gazillion forms on a disputed credit card bill and writing letters and running copies of all the damned paper including the Delivery Confirmation Receipts and calling the damned companies and reading them all the tracking numbers and.....well...you think you are pissed....just join the club.ReplyDelete
Aside from being pissed as hell, I still love you.... Sigh. Sob.
Dearest Mary, I didn't even read backwards today as soon as I saw the title of this post I wanted to know pissed off about.ReplyDelete
Oh no, the fox was back! This might be controversial but I won't mind if Mr Moon shoots it either.
I hate fucking forms too. Especially when they're not even my forms.
The Actor's mum is on repeat too. Sometimes she asks me the same question three times in five minutes. I just zone out.
Don't worry I tell the same stories too, just not on the same day. And I've not lost it yet.
I'm glad you went to Kathleen's.
Don't worry about everything today. Give yourself a break and go and do something you like or watch something funny. It'll all be better tomorrow.
I love you my friend xx
But who would I call when I'm sick?!ReplyDelete
(I love you.)
Stephanie- No way I can stop listening to her. Sigh.ReplyDelete
Bethany- The swearing helped and then the yard work helped and now I'm tired and bed is calling and THAT will be the best. You're such a sweetling.
Jo- I guess. I know. I do.
Mrs. A- Well, I understand the need for them but I don't like them.
Birdie- Such hard work you do and it's god's work. I believe that. I am so sorry about your mother. Life is so cruel, dammit! SO cruel and unfair. Just not one shred of fairness to it sometimes. No one wants to be one of those old people sleeping in front of a TV. WHY do we keep ourselves alive so long?
As to the fox- nah. Foxes can run long distances. I mean, it's possible but it's not practical.
Piecesofme- Okay. Not today.
Elizabeth- I have so many stories I haven't told and I know it and I should. Thank-you, darling.
And mostly, I galumph everywhere. I had a boyfriend once who told me I walked too hard. I got rid of him.
Lora- I love your pissy list. Sorry about the tadpoles and don't you just want to scream at your kids sometimes? Okay. I did. Sometimes. They'll tell you. As to the husband- ooh. I hate it when husbands get snippy.
Ellen- You know exactly. Thanks.
Lo- Once, when a friend of mine died and we were having a sort of wake/party after the funeral and a friend of hers said to me, "Well, she's fine now. She ain't paying rent." I have never forgotten that. And of course I don't mean it about all of us older ladies. ESPECIALLY NOT YOU!!!!
I love you.
Christina- After I get the dishes washed, I am going to BED which is my favorite place because sleep is my favorite drug and really, everything is fine and you are so sweet to comment on everything.
And Mr. Moon will shoot that fox if he gets a chance. That is just the way it is.
DTG- I know. My work here is not done. I love you too! Amen.
a little pist never hurt anyone.ReplyDelete
be well mary moon!
Oh Mary this makes my heart ache. And I want to bake Birdie a cake and I want to take the fox off your hands and I think everyday about Elizabeth her brave her amazing huge fucking heart and your son right there telling you he loves and needs you.ReplyDelete
I'm a weepy mess. I come here every day no matter what because you are the person I think I want to be. There is such no-bullshit-goodness in you. Incredible.
Mrs. A- I think it can clear the pipes now and then.ReplyDelete
Madame Radish King- Aw, honey. I can't play music AT ALL and that would kill you. You don't want to be me but I tell you what- I am so lucky. I know that. And not least of all because of the beautiful, sweet, precious people who come here every day. Like you.
I don't think that the solution is to die. Hell, I still have a lot of living to do. And I don't give a rat's ass about the young and feisty ones who have no manners and are always texting and can't spell or speak with good grammar. And that's most of the US population these days. That is what pisses me off.ReplyDelete
I just found your blog, and I'm famous for my lack of timing. My heart goes out to you. I feel you when you say we old ladies should just leave the playing field and leave the good stuff to the young ones. I was 46 when I was diagnosed with advanced cancer. I fought like hell to live because my daughter was 11 and I couldn't leave her. Now that she is going off to her own life I look around and say "why?". I see all too clearly what's ahead. Still, I know what the commenters who tell you that the young women still need their mothers are talking about. I was 25 when my father died and 32 when my mother died. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss them. My children grew up without grandparents, and missed that richness in their lives. Life can be a frustrating bitch, and above all it isn't fair. Curse it out and then enjoy the luxury of the good times. It's all we have.ReplyDelete
Ms. Moon = The Realness.ReplyDelete
Well said Syd. It's the same hre in the UK.ReplyDelete
Ms Moon... cuss away and let it out. It's holding everything in that makes us crazy... we can only take so much (a sponge can only hold so much water!)
Love you :) x
Wow. You make a rant into a piece of art.ReplyDelete
All the very best to you Mary Moon.
The fox doesn't have to die; it just needs negative reinforcement. Coexistence by force.ReplyDelete
A BB Gun at 4:30 will help the fox understand the timing: chickens = a sting. I kill critters for food, and have done such for nuisance, but BabyGirl likes the pesky raccoons and opossums. They get a BB sting in the ass now and don't tear into my garbage or gnaw on my tools anymore.
Coexistence by force. Practice your shot by taping one of those forms to the fence.
Fuck the young mothers. I need you, so keep keeping on PLEASE.ReplyDelete
I live pissed off. I can't possibly select just one thing, can I? Oh yes I can--CELL PHONES PISS ME OFF--people driving around all batshit, talking or texting on cell phones. Okay, now there I go repeating myself. Anyone who reads my blog fucking well knows that cell phones piss me off already. I may as well be your mother, talking about the cocksucking tool box. BORING.
I have to say, though, that by the time I get to your mother's age, I'll feel like it's my right (by dint of still being alive) to bore the fuck out of people if I want to. I'll do whatever the hell I want, quite frankly. Actually, I think when I hit 50, I'll feel this way. A half a century is nothing to sneeze at.
OMG. Can I just say the quality of commentators on this blog can't be beat. Sarcastic Bastard. L o fucking l. Come for the blog, stay for the comments.ReplyDelete
I am with SB on this one. All the feisty old ladies should act like princesses, eat the last piece of cake left, hell, eat all the cake they can. They have earned it. And it'll be a good lesson for these younguns with their massive sense of entitlement. Ha!
Love you all, thanks for the laffs!
maybe we could all get together in a few years and have our own rapture. we choose when where and how.ReplyDelete
there will be wine and music and dancing and laughter.
and tears. it will be all of us birthing each other into death.
Syd- Say it, Man!ReplyDelete
emmy- Well, welcome and I'm so glad you found me. I agree with you- we don't have to like the bad times but we sure as hell might as well recognize and enjoy the good ones. Amen to that. I'm glad you've done so well with your cancer, that you made it to that goal of raising your daughter but maybe now, you'll find reason to live for yourself too. Oh. I know you will. I just have a feeling.
gradydoctor- Aw. I try.
Sandy- Even if the most absorbent of us.
Andrew- I love a rant. And the best to you, too.
Mr. Mungam- I thought it was you! Going incognito, eh? I think Mr. Moon wants to do more than scare this fox but he does love a good B-B Gun. Don't tell Baby Girl about it though, okay? I might meet her one day and I don't want her to hate me.
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- I will remember that wisdom because I am older than half a century and hell- why not? I love you so.
Invisigal- That should be my new motto: "Come for the blog, stay for the comments." Exactly! Thanks for being one of the precious commenters.
deb- That sounds PERFECT! But can I drink rum instead of wine? I'm allergic.