I thought I'd slept until ten-thirty this morning which would have been a world record but in fact, it was only nine-thirty. I'd set the clock wrong in the guest room when I went in there at six-thirty when I woke up after a measly five hours of sleep, determined to get MORE sleep, DAMMIT, and yet, try not to wake up my husband with my efforts to try and find a more comfortable position.
I know, earth-shattering. Need-to-know stuff here at blessourhearts.
Hey. You can't get world news, earth-shaking political insights, and deep philosophy every day. The damn brain just needs some time off sometimes.
Which I got.
There's so much I COULD talk about today. One of them being fasting for Lent. I talked about that last year, though so fuck it. But I will reiterate that a god who wants you to give up any of his (or her) great gifts to us, to blind ourselves to anything that is part of the great, creamy mess of creation and brings joy and, uh, sustenance, is suspicious to me.
Yes. I have fasted before.
I was insane and had a borderline eating disorder.
Okay, moving on and in the same spirit, I am about to make a hell of a lot of chocolate chip cookies. I am going to take them to my cast and crew mates tonight. There's a line in the play where our Lulabelle says, "There's nothing like a good homemade chocolate chip cookie," and there you go. Now, my reply to her in the play is this: "But what about sex? Have you never had to fake it?"
And quite frankly, I will be so happy never to say this line again after tonight but in the meantime, I do believe that a nice homemade chocolate chip cookie truly is one of the finest things around and I have four sticks of butter softening as we speak and two bags of Ghirardelli chocolate chips (one semi-sweet and one bitter-sweet) awaiting their destiny on the counter.
Mr. Moon is in fix-it mode and that makes a wife happy. Right now he is tackling our dining room table which is a very old round oak thing that has been in my life since about 1979. I can't even imagine how many meals have been eaten on it. It got me and my girlfriends through nursing school because we gathered around it to study (well, that table and the band Four-In-Legion and most specifically their song There's A Party In My Pants And You're Invited).
Okay, whoa. I just went to youtube to find the video of that and yes, I've totally posted it before but just watching a few minutes of it has sent be straight back to 1982 or some year like that and...table? What table? Shit. If you want to see what propelled me in my darkest hours and got me through the Valley of the shadow of death and yea, were my rod and my staff which did comfort me back when I was a single mother in nursing school, well, check it out.
Now there was a band. There was a guitar player. There was a shitty video.
Lord, Lord, Lord. We used to dance.
Where was I?
I have no idea.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.
I've always wondered about that line. Who in the world wants to sit down and eat in front of one's enemies? Even metaphorically, that would be some bitter dining.
But hey- let's tie it all together here- Mr. Moon (and also, our neighbor) is preparing my table. Or REPAIRING my table and I am very happy about that because I love that table and it is more than a table, it is a souvenir of a different time in my life when I danced with my girlfriends wildly and with abandon and we feared NO EVIL and let us not fear chocolate chip cookies, either.
My cup runneth over.
Yes, yes it does. With coffee right now and this is probably the most random, craptastic post I've ever written.
Who cares? Not me.
Dance, babies. There's a party in someone's pants. Invite your own damn self. Lie down in green pastures or in the tumbled bed. Eat a chocolate chip cookie. Don't eat in the presence of one's enemies because to do so is to invite jealousy and indigestion. Get some sleep.
Annointest your head with oil at your own discretion.