Sunday, February 19, 2012

Although Mr. Moon is still not home, I am finally making a real meal.

I have a chicken beast in the oven in an iron skillet, the iron skillet I bought in Denver, Colorado in 1973. God, that skillet is older now than most of the people on earth and I use it almost every day. And here's the funny thing- I have an even older iron skillet that I use at least once a week.
You can't go wrong with an iron skillet.

Anyway, I put that chicken breast in there with slices of fresh pineapple and onions and cinnamon and some salt and brown sugar and put a lid on it. I usually do this on top of the stove, but I wanted a baked potato, so I am cooking the chicken in the oven with the potatoes. I am cooking two potatoes so that I can have one tomorrow if I want. Big oven, might as well use the heat, the space to make enough for more.

I picked salad greens from the garden today after I weeded and mulched. I gave them two sink-washings and then laid them on a dishtowel and wrapped them in it like a baby, like a burrito, like a handful of wet emeralds. I have peeled and sliced an orange, toasted walnuts, thawed wild blueberries. This will be my salad.

Hell, I might heat up some baby peas and then there will be more green to go with yellow pineapple, orange orange, emerald greens, blue blueberries.

I talked to Lily on the phone today and Owen came on to talk to me too. He told me that he'd gone to eat with his Uncle Chris and his Aunt Loren. He'd had a cheeseburger and french fries. He asked me if I like french fries.
How did he get so verbal? When did this happen?
I assured him that I love french fries. Especially with ketchup. I was telling him the truth. I do. I will always tell that boy the truth. He told me the other day that he goes to church with his other grandmother. He asked if I go to church. I said, "No, MerMer does not like church."
Again- the truth.

I talked to Mr. Moon. He tripped on a bush's root on Friday and fell hard on his ass. The resulting bruise is too shocking for words but he swears it does not hurt. He sent me pictures of it and I asked if I could post one and he said, "That's so weird," and I am not going to, although it's like an act of god, that bruise, it's so black, it's so big.

He has a nice ass, that man. I tell you he does.
Trust me.

I tidied up my office today and swept it. I took my computer out there and the intense responsibility of having the time and space to write completely undid me. I could not. It was like being in a five-hundred dollar-a-night hotel room with a lover. Things are expected to happen. There are expectations which may not be achieved under such pressure. The dogs had followed me in and settled down but I closed the laptop and said, "Come on, dogs," and they did. I am too intimidated to write any more. I have used up all of my ideas and wonderful first lines on books that are written but that I will never send out. I think of the old days when I snatched time here and there to write on yellow legal tablets. I think of furtive, quick love in broom closets, no pressure at all, just pure lust.

Listen: Do not ever look at an old person and think that they have never done this or that. You have no idea. Whatever you have thought of, whatever you have done, they probably have too. Humans are humans. Where there is a will, there is a way. Wherever there is a need, it will be met. Wherever there is a thrill, it will be sought after.

My chicken and onions and pineapple and cinnamon smell like something I might want to eat. I'm going to go make a salad dressing for those greens, that fruit, those nuts.

I am going to go to bed before midnight tonight.

This is what I have done today. This is what I have thought about.

I twist my rings on my fingers. I expect to find more evidence of spring tomorrow.
This is what it is like to be a fifty-seven-year-0ld woman on earth.

I kid you not.


  1. god damn if this is not a how-to manual for living i do not know a thing.

    you undo us all, again and again.



  2. Tearful- I take lessons from you. I finally admit what is true.

  3. I wish I thought more about lust in broom closets.

  4. That sounds so much better than the craptacular meal I made tonight. I wonder how long it takes to drive from Atlanta to Lloyd? Think I can make it before midnight?

  5. Rubye Jack- Well, buying that skillet was maybe the high point for me. But I sure did learn a lot that year. Oh yes, I did.

    Jeannie- Well. I doubt it's too late.

    gradydoctor- Five hours. Or less.

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  7. I made a yummy dinner too even though Jason had to work. My salad was spinach, strawberries, goat cheese, and almonds. Then I had an artichoke dipped In butter. Lastly I had a small portion of turkey marinara noodle bake. Delicious! I love you mamma and can't wait till our planting day.

  8. I love that you make yourself such a delighful, delicious dinner. You are a paragon of excellence in every way.

  9. Sounds like a good meal. Ouch to Mr. Moon. If you are going to write about lust in a broom closet, then you are building up to that sex post.....For me, it was the rope locker on a ship. LOL.

  10. I'm going to copy your recipe tonight yes I am. You beautiful grounded full of heart girl.

  11. The Truth is what I come here for, I can always count on you to tell the truth. And to tell it beautifully.

  12. Fantastic. Absofreakinglutely fantastic!!!!!!!!!!

    You said it, sister. You rock!!!!

  13. Lily- You may look the least like me of all my babies but you sure are acting like me these days. I love you! I'm excited for our planting day, too!

    Elizabeth- Oh honey, not in EVERY way. Believe me.

    Syd- I think that WAS my sex post. Haha! A rope locker? What the hell is that?

    Deirdre- That chicken dish is tastiest made with CANNED PINAPPLE IN HEAVY SYRUP but you know, fresh is good too, especially with a little brown sugar.

    Lora- Well, as they say these days, "My" truth, anyway.

    The Angry Squaw- What a great name! Come back any time, honey.


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