Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Caring And Loving And Not Caring, Too

Well, we're still going to have a Post Office in Lloyd but for only four hours a day and we are going to have a sidewalk to nowhere but maybe eventually the county will have enough money for it to go somewhere and the meeting was about as funny as I thought it would be and the poor P.O. representative was smashed against the wall, both literally and figuratively in the packed, tiny lobby of where we collect our mail as theories were advanced and complaints made and worries were aired and misconceptions were liberally tossed about.
Poor dude.

The sidewalk is not going through my front yard and I guess I'm grateful. I don't really care. Frankly, I don't really care about much right now although that's not entirely true. I do actually care about a lot of things but they are, in my estimation at least, the Big Things such as guess who is walking now?



Yeah, that's right. Gibson Monroe Hartmann. He just figured out that he could and then he did and now he's all proud of himself and clapping his hands and walking just like a man, okay, maybe a drunk man but still. He's a primate who can walk upright!

I also care about his brother because, well, he's my beloved grandson and he charms and delights me.


They are beautiful, those boys. I care about them a LOT.

And I care about a friend of mine whose ex-husband is dying who went down to the hospital where he was and helped arrange everything for him to go into hospice and scrubbed his house and even his vegetable drawer because she's that kind of person. Sure, they've been divorced forever but he's the daddy of her sons and that's the kind of person I love and care about- the kind that cares and loves.

I do not, however, give one damn shit about the election/selection/detection of the new pope. Can you even imagine caring? Maybe if I was the official pope shoemaker I would care. Which I am not. Stupid old men in dresses acting like they know what god wants. What a load of crap.

Whoa! Where did THAT come from?

I do care about getting ready to go to the island. Yes. I am selfish but sometimes a gal's just gotta let go and go to the island. I'm in go-mode. I spent a crazy amount of money at the grocery store buying a whole lot of stuff we won't eat and I don't care about that, either. I'm doing one last load of laundry and I've got food in bins and food ready to go in a cooler and I'm going to pack my overalls and my Goodwill cashmeres and books galore. I'm excited.
Hopefully, by this time tomorrow we'll be there and unpacked and it'll be a cozy nest for me and my husband and we'll watch the Great Blue Heron right out the back door fishing for his supper. Maybe we'll see the osprey dive and catch fishes and maybe we'll see him carry them home to his mate. We might see the bald eagles and we might see the tiny shore birds that scurry before us as we walk. Maybe we'll see a shark and if we do, Owen showed me what to do which is to swim like hell. Not that I plan on being in the water but just in case...
Maybe we'll see dolphins and we'll surely see sunsets and maybe we'll hear the wind whistling through the dunes as we lay in our bed and I'll have my books stacked up beside me on the bedside table and since Mr. Moon will be there, the poltergeist which inhabits the house will not show up and scatter them about as she has been known to do when I am there alone.
And once we're there, I am not going to care about the dogs or the garden (which Mr. Moon is working in right this second) and I am not going to worry about cholesterol or the sidewalk in Lloyd or the hours of the Post Office. I am not even going to worry about my grandchildren. Their parents can do that just fine.

I'm going to try and not worry about a thing although I believe I may well passionately care about many things such as my score in gin rummy, whether or not to eat chips with salsa or Wheat Thins with humus, and mostly my husband. Well, it's a plan.

I love being on an island because the proof of the world flowing on with or without me is so very tangible and there is nothing for it but for me to appreciate all that flowing of wind and of water and to know that yes, I am here now but someday I will not and the sun will set with just as much fire and glory when I'm gone and that holds true for presidents and popes and saints and all us regular sinners alike.

Amen, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon






15 comments:

  1. I hope the island is good to you. I worry sometimes when you go!

    I would give annnnything to go to the beach. Seriously. I am in desperate need of water therapy and perspective.

    Send us pictures.

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  2. I like your GO mood and not worrying.

    Woohoo, Gibson!!!

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  3. Amen indeed. Congrats to Gibson. It is so awesome when they first start walking. Sorry to hear about your friend, and I am with you on this whole Pope thing. White smoke. Black smoke. Who cares. Have a great trip and hope you and Mr. Moon have a wonderful time. And thank you for your most recent comment on my blog. I needed that.

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  4. SJ- As you know, I have had some incredibly traumatic experiences at the island. I am hoping that this is not one of those times. I will post many pictures.

    Stephanie- I am, girl. In go-mode. Yes! And when I get back, Gibson will be walking everywhere and the wisteria may be purple. Who could ask for anything more?

    Mr. Shife- I only wrote the truth. I have a deep affection for you. I hope you know that.

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  5. Hooray for walking Gibson! And almost a year old - when the heck did that happen?

    Can't wait to go to the island "with" you.

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  6. Sounds like Gibson is in go mode too! Good for him!

    This post has a great rhythm and vibe. And also a great sort of "fuck it all" Im going to relax quality.

    Have fun.
    xo

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  7. Oh, the pope thing. So bizarre that it's nearly interesting. What a freaking farce.

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  8. Go Gibson and Go Mr and Mrs Moon! Have a wonderful weekend. May it be as beautiful as your description has made it in my mind.

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  9. What happens in conclave stays in conclave.

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  10. I am glad for you. And I love your grand babies. They are beautiful, happy children. Owen's hair and Gibson's smile - it just melts my heart. Sweet Jo

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  11. I've been missing from your pews, Mary-Moon-Common-Sinner. I didn't realize I'd missed it (you) 'til coming back. Thank you for telling it true about those fool men in dresses, and islands, and the things that matter.

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  12. Hooray! Island photos soon!
    And Happy Birthday, Gibson!

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  13. Have a great time on the island! And yes, I think your caring priorities are correct. I'm not paying much attention to the Pope, either.

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  14. I hope all the wonderful things happen. Not the poltergeists or sharks. If those pope guys cared about people at all, they'd be making sure everyone had days at the beach and plenty of help moving. That's what I think. But they don't.

    Bon voyage.

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  15. Jill- Did you pack your pillow?

    Ms. Fleur- That would be my plan.

    Elizabeth- "So bizarre it's nearly interesting." Yes! Exactly!

    Kelly- It's always beautiful there. I promise you.

    Mr. Downtown- You just wanted to say "conclave" didn't you?

    Sweet Jo- I love that my babies are so loved.

    See Kate Run- Honey. It's so nice to see you here.

    Denise- Yes! and Thanks!

    Steve Reed- When they elect a woman pope I'll care a little bit. Maybe. Nah, probably not. Also, it'll never happen.

    Vesuvius At Home- I don't think they care about much beyond their own noses.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.