This morning I sent Mr. Moon into town with some soup and oat bran muffins for Lily and her fellas. Owen loves oat bran muffins. The child will not eat cake but he will eat some muffins. As a little boy who used to live next door to us a long time ago said about his appetite for biscuits, "I hog them down."
Owen hogged down four oat bran muffins while Lily was getting Gibson down for his nap.
Bless his heart.
And in case you're interested, these are the muffins made from the recipe on the back of the Quaker Oat Bran box found in the cereal aisle of your grocery store. Just saying. I have talked about them before. They are so damn good. And easy. And you can add flax seed to the recipe or bananas or grated apples or mashed sweet potatoes or grated carrots or oh, well, you know. Anything. I discovered by accident a few weeks ago that you can even leave the baking powder out entirely and it won't matter that damn much. I highly recommend them.
We're not having oat bran muffins tonight, though. I have two loaves of bread baking. I made the classic mistake today of sticking my damn hand into the Kitchen Aid bowl to adjust the dough while the dough hook was moving. Thankfully, I had my other hand on the controls and cut it off immediately and only have a some swelling, a slight contusion and skin break but it could have been bad. Real bad. My mother still remembers the time when she was a little girl and she stuck her hand in a mixer that was on and old Dr. Whatever His Name Was had to be called to drive up the mountain and untangle her hand. As many times as I've heard this story you'd think that:
(a) I could remember the doctor's name, and
(b) I would not stick my hand in the bowl while the mixer is on.
Bless my heart.
My next door neighbors who live on the other side of the Holy Ghost Revival Center put up a damn Romney-Ryan sign right on the border of their conjoining property.
I could say bless their hearts but I ain't gonna. Hell no.
You going to watch the debates tonight? I am, at least for a little while, and I sure do hope it's more entertaining than the last Obama/Romney debate. I doubt seriously that it's going to be half as entertaining as the Biden/Ryan debate was.
Bless Joe Biden's heart. And his preternaturally white teeth. And his, "That's a bunch of STUFF!" You know you could have a good time with Uncle Joe, sitting there shooting the STUFF over a few beers. Which is not a good reason to vote for someone but it's a nice image, nonetheless.
I swear to you, as I was writing this, Mr. Moon came out to the porch and heard the cardinals chirping and said, "Oh. My cardinals. I need to feed them. Bless their hearts."
I don't know why I've written a bless-hearts post but I seem to have. I didn't start out to do it. It just unfolded. It's been a nice day, easy and comfortable as to temperature and I got the rest of the garden in and watered it and now the Holy Ghost Revival Center is cranking up and I can hear the drums and the bass, and the bread is baking. Mr. Moon and I have been discussing our plans for our anniversary next week. We'll have been married twenty-eight years a week from Thursday. We've discussed everything from going to Dog Island to going to Lookout Mountain to going to Fernandina Beach.
Twenty-eight years! That is mighty hard to believe.
And you know what I have to say about that.
Bless our hearts.
That bread sure is smelling good. I might just have to hog some down.
Bless your hearts, y'all. Thanks for coming around tonight. I mean it.