Sunday Services

The Holy Ghost Revival Center next door met today for the first Sunday services that I have observed. I've seen them there on every other day or evening of the week but never, until today, on a Sunday.
The parking lot (which is the entire yard of the church) was filled and cars and trucks were parked down the road and in front of my house and when I went out to take the compost they were rocking the rafters and they were there for hours this afternoon. Like, maybe four hours.
A lot of hours.
Not Frozen-Chosen-White-People-Church-Hours which is really only ONE hour, get 'em in, get 'em out, go eat some pot roast.
Vergil and Jessie went to see Mother today and when they got back Vergil said, "You want to go next door and find Jesus?"
"He's going to have to find me," I said although if I was to go in search of Jesus, I would be most attracted to a church that had drums and bass and a woman wailing her lungs out.

Still.

No.

I've had the saddies this afternoon. I worked outside today and once again, it was tantamount to suicide. I was listening to This American Life as I worked for awhile and they were doing a thing about bedbugs and it sounded so awful and I was thinking, how can they stand living like that? and I realized that I was covered in mosquitos and also bloody places where I'd slapped some and I also realized I was an idiot because I could at least go in the house where there were no mosquitos. And eventually, I did.

I made a pot of soup which got so big I had to switch from the big pot to the giant pot and it's beans and vegetables and a little deer sausage. There's enough to feed that entire congregation next door if I had the inclination to invite them over but I don't. And I don't even think it's that good. I need to go fool with it, add something. Something. I don't know what.

I talked to Mr. Moon briefly. There is no good cell reception in that part of Tate's Hell. We kept getting  dropped and I think he's tired and probably wants to come home and they only have two hunts left on their tag dates so he will be coming home pretty soon anyway. I guess it's a fine thing to go out and be on the water at night and have adventures but that eventually, you want to come home and sleep in your own bed all night long and have someone to decide what to make for your dinner and he probably misses the TV too. I would imagine. Jessie and Vergil are going to go down tomorrow to see him and I might too. I don't know. I should. I know I should. I don't know what the hell I want anymore.

Well, it's the end of summer and my man has been away for a week and the heat and the bugs are starting to take their toll and I've decided I don't have chiggers but poison ivy instead and I'm not saying one is worse than the other, I'm just saying it's been a long, hot, itchy summer and I'll be mighty glad for a change of season and in a month I'll be at the beach for a week and May and I are already plotting the meal we're going to have of NACHOS which yes, is nuts, but we can't help it. We're looking forward to that. Chips and beans and tomatoes and onions and jalapenos and cheese. Cheese! Yes. Cheese! Melted all over it. And sour cream and guacamole and salsa and icy beers and the Gulf of Mexico right outside the door and we can eat on the deck if we want and we probably will.

This is the kind of adventure I look forward to. Call me crazy. I don't care.

Here's the boy and the girl.

I swear to you, one of the main reasons I wanted this house is because I knew how music would sound being played in the hallway. I may be crazy but I know acoustics and I was right.

All right. I better go fix that soup.

Listen to some music.

Jesus is welcome to join us if he wants. Bless his heart. Bless ours too. And yours.

You know I mean that.

Love...Ms. Moon