So okay, no more Herman Cain to kick around although his candidacy is merely "suspended," not ended and I have to think that has something to do with money, honey.
"I am at peace with my God," he says. "I am at peace with my wife and she is at peace with me."
I hope she gets a piece of the big ol' pizza pie of his wealth when she divorces him. That's what would bring me some peace in that situation.
On to Newt. Jesus. What happened to those Republicans wanting a president who isn't a "Washington Insider"?
Well, he'll have his fifteen minutes of being Top Dog and then someone else will scramble up the dog pile of can-this-really-be-the-best-the-Republicans-have-to-offer?
I'm gonna be all Honey Badger here. I don't give a shit. The more ridiculous the candidate they come up with, the better for the Democrats.
I wonder if Sarah Palin is just waiting in the wings, speaking of ridiculous.
I'll bet she is.
Mr. Moon keeps asking me what has happened to all of the cardinals at the feeder. I keep telling him that I DO NOT KNOW! They never write, they never call. I pointed out today that every darn seed in the woods is ripe for the taking and so maybe all the red birds are eating al fresco for real. He agreed this may be true. There's one juvenile at the feeder right now. "Go tell your friends!" Mr. Moon said. "Free food!"
The other night when Lis was here we got to talking about cooking. We do that a lot. She said, "It's time! We need to write the cookbook!"
"Okay!" I said. "But first, we need a title!"
We pondered, both of us for about one quarter of a second and then we spoke at the same time (this was post-martini, y'all, which explains all the exclamation points).
She said, Something Spanish!" just as I was saying, "How To Cook Southern!"
We laughed so hard. One has to wonder if we'll ever get serious about a cookbook.
Mr. Moon and I keep asking each other- "What do you want to do when we're in Mexico?"
Okay. There's more to it than that. But seriously? That's a big part of it. Just being honest. I want to buy some earrings, too.
And I have to admit that the idea of sharing my favorite place in the world with Jessie and Vergil is pretty darn exciting.
Here are some pictures that pretty much say it all for me:
But of course, I will have to make a pilgrimage to here:
And I hope the Insanely Huge And Terrifying Donkey is again part of the downtown Nativity.
And that one of my favorite statues is somewhere to be found. It seems to move around a lot.
And that this guy is still smiling in front of the restaurant where we always take our first meal.
And oh, so much Si, Si, Si! that we can visit Playa Corona and catch up with this old amigo and hear about his woes with his wife with whom he has been in a constant state of sort-of-warfare for twenty-something years and with whom he continues to have beautiful babies with despite that fact.
And now, on to the next thing which is that I have three hours to figure out why in hell I want to go audition for a play in Monticello. I have NO business making that sort of commitment at this point in my crazy, loco vida what with the trip and the baby coming and the fact that I barely have two brain cells to rub together to memorize lines with but... shitfire.
I just sort of want to.
For awhile there I had no desire to put myself out like that, no need to be out in the world, no feelings of goodness about any of it but it has all crept up again.
Well, again. There is only one female part and I might not get it and the odds are that I won't because the Tallahassee actors have discovered us here in the hinterlands and our beautiful stage and some of those women are HUNGRY for stage time and they are serious and they take classes and educate themselves and audition for things all the time and I'm just a little ol' granny here in Lloyd who don't know shit.
I mean that, too. Every word. I am NOT being self-deprecating. It's just the truth.
Well- one more thing- what in HELL is Mr. Moon doing out there on that four-wheeler? Oh. Picking up and hauling dead branches on a trailer behind it.
Bless our hearts, y'all. Except Herman Cain's. And the entire Republican Party in general. I ain't blessing their hearts. They wouldn't want me to anyway. They are at peace with their God already and so anything I could do in the blessing department would be redundant, not to mention I just don't want to.
But I will surely bless yours. If you want me to.