And The Rain Says Pitter Pat

Mr. Moon is home and working his ass off, cleaning fish and then on to cleaning the boat. I guess. I know I had to stop by Publix on my way home for two gallons of bleach. That man can clean a boat. And a fish. He says that he can clean a bathroom too but I have no proof of that.
Oh well.
We all have our duties around here.

We got rain and it's soggy and still a little drizzly and Elvis and the hens are out eating scraps of fish that are being thrown their way. Chickens are food machines. Whatever you feed them, it comes out in the form of eggs and of course poop which goes on the garden and helps to grow things in there. I seriously can't imagine life without chickens now. Look- if they're going to start making laws that school teachers have to carry guns and if North Carolina wants to establish a State Religion, why can't they make it a law that everyone has to keep chickens? Now THAT would make sense to me.
Okay. Not if you live in an apartment. You'd get a pass on the mandatory chicken law if you live in an apartment.
Otherwise, if I were the King, CHICKEN-KEEPING WOULD BE A FEDERAL REQUIREMENT!

Well, don't panic. I doubt I'm going to be coronated any time soon.

I read the story of Babar to Owen today. I had forgotten about the evil hunter who shoots and kills Babar's mother. Damn. Oh well. Life is cruel. Get used to it, innocent little child. I had a good time with those boys today although Owen refused to give me another foot massage and I pretended to cry and he said, "Mer-Mer. You not a baby!" and Gibson looked upset so I stopped pretending to sob and started laughing instead and blew zorberts on Gibson's neck which made him laugh. I laughed so hard I thought I might cry when Owen, who was all set up to hit the foam baseball off a sort-of T-ball stand with a bat that was probably a little too substantial to use in the house, hit instead the large metal can that the Lincoln Logs came in. I don't know why it struck me as so funny but it did and he put a good dent in that can.
I suck at childcare. I mean, I keep them alive and I clean poopy butts and stuff like that but I am sorely lacking in disciplinary action which is probably why Owen is constantly saying, "I love you Mer-Mer. Got any gum?"

We went to the grocery store before Lily went to work. Here's a picture.

I know. I should do an entire series of Owen-And-Gibson-In-The-Grocery-Cart photos. At least I posed this one in front of the flowers which is artistic and shit. Owen said he didn't want me to take his picture and I said, "That's okay. I'll just take Gibson's."
I lied. Add that to the list of horrible things I do as a grandmother.

So that's been my day, pretty much. I imagine Mr. Moon will eventually finish cleaning things outside in the drizzle. He brought home a frozen lasagna which they were going to eat on the island but did not and it thawed (which, technically, I guess means that it isn't frozen anymore) and we are actually going to eat that for supper. I have apparently abandoned all dietary rules and restrictions and enjoyed some delicious frozen (but cooked) pepperoni pizza for lunch with the boys. Eventually I'm going to have to take control of this situation but tonight is not the night, obviously.

I will not even discuss the Reeses Easter Eggs which Lily left in my cabinet and which I found yesterday. No. And there is no need to discuss them. They are gone now anyway.

We'll eat some grouper tomorrow. Or redfish which Mr. Moon wants to blacken but you have to do that outside because of the smoke factor AND he is not getting any of my iron skillets to use. No sir. I have kept and cherished them for a hundred years and will not sacrifice one for some damn redfish.

You know why I'm still sitting here rambling on eternally? Because I'm too damn sore and tired to get up and go fold the clothes.

Okay. I'm done.

Love...Ms. Moon