Friday, December 9, 2011

Surrealistic Pillow (and if you know what THAT is, you're old as shit like me)

I do not feel well. In fact (she whined) I feel sort of like shit. I am serious. I ache everywhere and I am tired. Tired, tired, tired. Like my body weighs four hundred and fifty pounds or maybe tons. I am not sure. Maybe I have what Buster had.
I hope not. Dog-to-human contagion cannot be good.

I was the worst grandmother today. I bet Owen watched four hours of PBS children's programming. The whole day has been gray like perpetual twilight and that did not help. I did go flamingo fishing with the boy but I was SO glad when he dropped the last of the flamingo legs into the pond and we couldn't find it. Hahahaha! Now those flamingos are permanently napping. Owen doesn't care. He carries the legless birds around like dolls or pets. He makes them eat out of the chicken feeder and drink from the birdbath. He rides them like horses. He throws them in the air and tells them to fly.
They never do.

Before Owen left, his daddy picked up all the toys in the den. He couldn't have made me happier by giving me a diamond and pearl tiara. I washed the dishes and thought I might die. I took a bath and boiled myself and finally got warm. I read some of Swamplandia! which I think I am enjoying but am not entirely sure. The woman can write and some of her phrases just crack me up but it's a tiny bit surrealistic and as my daughter May pointed out the other day, I don't really like surrealism. Maybe it's not surrealistic. Maybe that's just what it would be like if a family lived on their own island in the Everglades and had a tourist attraction called Swamplandia. Maybe.
Hell. I don't know.
I don't know shit.
I just feel like shit.

I think it's surrealistic.

Mr. Moon is on his way back from Ocala. When he left, he thought he'd be back by 6:30. We joke because he always bases his time estimates on what we call Glen Time. I always add at least an hour or two to whatever he says and I'm generally right. He just called to say he'll probably be back by 7:30. I am wondering what to do about supper. I am not especially hungry but the idea of food is not unappealing since I am not actually dead. We have leftovers but they are leftover, leftover leftovers and I have no interest in them at all. I'd just as soon eat a boiled potato. I wish that something unbelievably yummy would show up as if by magic (I guess it would HAVE to be magic, wouldn't it?) that I would want to eat. I can't even think of what it would be. I told May the other day that when I die, I hope people bring over hams. Then I thought about it and said that actually, it would make more sense if people brought over hams while I was dying but could still eat. She said she'd bring me a Connie's Honeybaked Ham. That made me happy. One time I asked Lily if she and her sisters would brush and braid my hair for me every day when I am very old. She said they would. That made me happy too. I would like to be a bright-eyed old biddy whose children braided her thin, white hair for her and then sat her down at a table with a plate of sweet-fatted ham and some collard greens every day. Wouldn't that be nice?
I think it would.

Well, I am not dying and so I guess I'll have to braid my own damn hair if I want it braided and cook my own damn ham if I want one. I don't actually cook ham because if I did, I would eat the whole thing and I doubt there is anything in this world as bad for you as eating an entire ham. Some people want to eat cakes, I want to eat ham and by god, when I am old, I am going to eat the SHIT out of some ham. I'm going to eat ham until my skin turns pink and I start peeing brown sugar.
Sorry if that makes you feel slightly queasy. Let's try to think of it as surrealism.
Would it help if I added a dwarf (sorry- little person) clown to the image?
Who ended up dead in a musical brain? Because that's what happened in the story that May and I were discussing which sparked the surrealism conversation in the first place.
I hated that story.
She told me that when she read it, she knew I would.
She knows me so well.

So do you.

Let's check in tomorrow. I got nothing more to say tonight.


  1. Ah Ms Moon, surrealism fits well with your state of health. This post reads like a delirious dream and although I commiserate with how you feel physically, I so enjoy the romp along with you that I can only think, thanks for the ride.

    You are a wonderful writer, even when you're feeling sick and thank goodness, not dead yet.

  2. Oh my gosh, I love you. This is brilliant. Why can't Mr Moon go to the ham drive through on the way home and make you happy?
    Hope you feel better Mama Moon.
    You are my idol.
    I love the "let's check in tomorrow" line.
    You make us all feel like your best buds.
    Smiling your way and happy to bring you a plate of ham and tuck the afghan around you .
    Man, now I want ham.

  3. If heart aches were commercials we'd all be on tv. A line from john prine that always makes me chuckle. Hope it makes you feel a little bit better.
    Love, daddyb

  4. Elisabeth- Not even close to dead yet. Well, hell. How do I know that? But thank-you. So very, very much. Your words mean a lot to me.

    Bethany- Drive-through ham store? Haha! Mmmmm.....
    Not around here. I've managed to make us a fine supper and Mr. Moon is home and safe so all is well. My supper even included a piece of bacon. One. Piece. Of. Bacon.
    You ARE one of my best buds, dear Bethany. My blooming, darling Bethany and every time I read The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza (which is one of Owen's favorite books), I tell him- Miss Bethany sent this to you.
    I love that book. I love you, too.

    Daddy B- Ain't that the damn truth? You ALWAYS make me feel better. To the point where I generally, oh, you know...cry.
    Love you, baby.

  5. Love you too, sweet marymoon. One of these years we'll get together and laugh hysterically.
    Love, daddyb

  6. Hoping you are feeling better this evening, Ms. Moon. I had to laugh when you said you let Owen watch almost 4 hours of PBS. The wife and I have been guilty of that with Kyle a few times. Hang in there, and hope tomorrow offers a lot more smiles. Take care.

  7. Boiled potatoes? Heaven. Man, I can eat the SHIT out of boiled potatoes. I cut them way back in my diet a few years back when I read about how they spike blood sugar, which made sense because I love love love them like candy.

    Then a friend told me that they increase seratonin levels, and I skipped the martini and got a big plate of fried potatoes. Yummmm...

    You can have the ham, baby; just pass me the taters.

  8. I hate ham. I guess we are arguing today on all points ;) I love YOU, though. That won't change. But please...when I come to visit and sleep in the panther ham. Fried chicken and biscuits, por favor. And we can watch Northern Exposure.

  9. Dammit, Mary, you have my disease.......Lo's Screaming Meemies. Have suffered from it for years....dontcha hate it when every limb feels like it weighs a ton and you have to lift them? Ugh. It does go way......hope you are better soon, but I must say, you write about it splendidly.

  10. Oh, I love ham. And bacon. I like bacon most of all. When I am old I am going to eat at least a pound every day.

  11. Tired lately too. I think it is the time of years--some SADs as dear SB would say. I have to write SB. I miss her.

  12. Braiding your own damn hair--you crack me up! Strange thing is today I braided parts of hair on each side and clipped it in back. Of course I didn't leave the house.
    And your exchange with your son about the dog dying on his watch and you commenting that you'll leave the shovel had me in hysterics. Of course I am glad the dog is better. And I loved your post about the chickens the other day. But dammit can you give me a grey cat photo now and then??!

  13. Ah, so sorry. Could it be the weight of winter coming on? I hope you are lighter and happier and less hungry for ham soon (all hail the little piggies).

  14. I love this post. I feel like we had a conversation that left me feeling as if somebody understands.

  15. Yes, the dwarf and maybe fish.

    This was so brilliant. I can't believe you can think and write like this when you feel like shit. WTF?!!

    You're awesome!

  16. I totally couldn't get through that Swamplandia book. And I did like the title. And I saw today that it made the top ten list on the NY Times. Oh, well. La di dah.

    Surrealism never floated my boat, either. It always sort of embarrasses me.

  17. Oh, seriously, turning pink and peeing brown sugar? HAH!

    My mother used to make Christmas ham with pineapple rings and maraschino cherries on. It was so fantastically good, with red cabbage and scalloped potatoes. Sighghghg.

  18. Well shucks! Thank you dear Mary. I'm so glad you both love that book. It was written for you, amazing pizza making, hen loving, hard working woman!

  19. Daddy B- After I'm done crying.

    Mr. Shife- Some days it's all THANK GOD FOR CHILDREN'S TELEVISION! Love to you and your family.

    NOLA- I love potatoes too. Potatoes were involved in our dinner last night.

    SJ- Okay. No ham. Noted. Hee-hee.

    Lo- Me too. For years. And it does go away. Thank god.

    Birdie- I'm going to eat ham with a side of bacon. I swear.

    Syd- You should write Ms. SB. She would love that.

    Michele R- I promise. A picture of the gray cat(s) soon.

    Andrea- Oh. This is just me. I am up. I am down. But I always love ham. I hardly ever eat it though, so maybe that is just theoretical.

    Angella- And your comment makes me feel like someone understands ME! Thank-you, love.

    Ms. Fleur- Sometimes it's good to just not feel real well and let the words slip out without the brain being able to catch them and deny them.

    Elizabeth- Surrealism reminds me too much of my damn dreams. Enough!
    We have very similar tastes in what we like to read, don't we?

    Jo- Now THAT'S what I'm talking about.

    Bethany- I love how every time the Little Red Hen goes to look for something and realizes she doesn't have it she says, "Cluck!" which I translate to "Fuck!" which cracks me up but I don't tell Owen that. And I love how she always buys..."and some other stuff." Including a kitchen sink! It's just such a fine book.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.