Oh My Dear!

As you can see, Owen got a haircut today. I have no idea how he was persuaded (did ice cream and candy have anything to do with it?) but I do know that Boppy and he went to lunch and then for a haircut. Lily sent me that picture and I texted her back, "Oh my dear!" which is something Owen frequently says these days and I don't know where he got that but it just charms me to my toes when he says it. He reminds me of a dowager aunt when he says it and I do an aural double-take every time to make sure that yes, my three-year-old grandson really did just say Oh my dear. 

So. Oh my dear! My grandson is no longer a rockstar but a regular young man who went with his grandfather for a haircut and I am proud of them both. It is good to experiment with hair and it is good to be allowed to be able to decide for oneself how long one's own personal hair should be. My own hair, for instance, is ridiculously long these days for a woman of fifty-eight. I believe I am just so grateful to still be able to grow hair that I am feeling as if I should not cut it, no matter what "they" say about old women with long hair. It is my own hair and I can do with it what I want. I loved Owen's long hair but I will love being able to see his pretty brown eyes.

I did go to town today. I timed it well, completely by accident, to go out into the plant nursery and collect a wagon full of various plants. Some flowers, a few herbs, and some vegetables for the garden. Also a few seeds and I am just now wondering where I put those seeds. The plants are still in the back of the car because it is pouring. I mean POURING. I hope the chickens do not drown as this is what we might possibly call a toad strangler. I also went to the grocery store AND to Costco, which was so packed that the only sampler not swamped with lines was the one for the Greek yogurt and I eat that practically every day of my life and so I did not need nor even want to sample it but I still regret not waiting for a bite of the carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.
All for the best, I imagine. All for the best.

But now I am back in Lloyd and cozy. The bread has indeed risen and I will bake it soon. When I went by the post office on my way out, I noticed a sign put up for a lost dog. This, in itself, is not unusual. But the sign itself was, as it was a piece of plywood possibly five feet tall, leaning on the oak tree at the main intersection of the village. Well, to be quite honest, it is the ONLY intersection in the village.

"Lost Hound," the sign says. And it gives a number to call and then it says, "Orange Collar."
These people must really want their dog back. I suppose if one of my dogs went missing, I would put up a poster or something. A very small poster. I certainly would not sacrifice a perfectly good piece of building material for the purpose. Buster actually got out of his fenced area yesterday but I think that his sense of adventure and desire to explore has disappeared in that he was frantic to get back in and yipped at the kitchen door with almost hysterical intensity until Owen and I let him back in and I think that if he had thought about it, he would have kissed the kitchen floor, but he did not.
Buster is old and so is his sister and they spend their days sleeping and stinking and begging for scraps when they smell anything they like to eat which is meat and apples. Yes. They love meat, of course; they are dogs. They love apples, too, though. Last night Mr. Moon gave them pork chop bones which they swallowed almost whole and I fussed at him because I knew the bones would make them throw up but so far, there has been no vomit. I can't imagine that their morning poops were comfortable, however.

Well, that is the way it is in Lloyd this evening. The rain is still coming down, the thunder is still rumbling. Boppy reported that when he was carrying Owen to the car after the hair cut, a huge bolt of lightening hit uncomfortably close to them with a deafening sound and that when it was over, they both laughed and high-fived each other for surviving, I suppose, and then went on to the car.
Oh my dear.
I expect Mr. Moon any moment. Perhaps we shall play some cards.

Saturday night and let us all be safe and remember- you are the master of your hair length. No one else.

Love...Ms. Moon