Monday, August 12, 2013

I Obviously Need A Life

I hung my sheets on the line today and I believe it may have taken them about ten minutes to dry. Seriously, faster than the dryer and that's for sure. As you can see, my sheets match about as well as my "china." I've had two weddings in my life and I believe that I got maybe two wedding presents. Okay, two that I can remember. One was a blanket from a friend of my mother's and one was a toaster.
But hell, my first wedding was not planned until I told the father of my unborn child that we were going to go to Georgia THAT DAY to get married so go get dressed, and the second wedding was decided upon on a Monday and occurred on Thursday. That was a good wedding though and there was even a white dress and a little reception with a wedding cake and there were flowers and everything. Hell, Mr. Moon even wore a tux. It was sort of the Miracle Wedding and I remember it fondly, far more fondly than I remember my first wedding which happened in a judge's chambers in Bainbridge, Georgia and we didn't have enough money to buy lunch and the judge waived the blood-test requirement because I was pregnant, but you know...whatever.
It was sort of sweet.

But with weddings like that, you aren't exactly going to take the time to pick out a china pattern. I'm still sort of looking at china and wondering if maybe someday I'd like some that matches but I probably won't. I'm not really a china pattern sort of girl. Woman. Old woman.

Can I talk about my dogs? When can you morally decide to put the old fuckers down? Mine are still relatively healthy, I guess (I never take them to the vet so who really knows?) but they're blind as bats. They run into door frames and can't figure out how to get outside and I'll be damned if I'm going to carry them outside and back in so that they can pee and poop. All they do is sleep and occasionally eat. Buster does follow the children around but I'm fairly sure that it's just because he knows they drop a lot of food. He can't SEE the food, but he can smell it and eventually he'll find it and eat it up. Dolly doesn't even bother to do that. So seriously- what's the verdict on taking them in for their final nap? Do they have to be "suffering" for it to be justified? I will admit that they don't appear to be suffering at all but doesn't MY suffering enter into the equation?
Yeah. Probably not.

Okay. There's a picture of Elvis. I just wanted to take his picture. He's such a handsome thing. When he sees me approaching, he comes running to me. Not because he likes me but (and again with the food) he thinks I might have something for him to eat. I really, really hope that Baby's baby is his child. The chick's comb is starting to make an appearance so perhaps it is a rooster. We'll just have to wait and see. I am considering calling the baby B.B. in honor of my (imaginary and chosen) daddy, Mr. B.B. King and also because B.B. stands for Baby's Baby. Of course and obviously. Also, it would work for a hen or a rooster and it's so disconcerting to name a chick something like Elmira and have her turn out to be a rooster and you have to change the name to Elvis (true story).

So. Really that's about all I have to discuss. Mr. Moon is out of town again and I am beginning to wonder if I have a husband at all and maybe if I had a damn china pattern he'd stay home more often but I doubt it. He's no more of a china pattern type of man than I am a woman (old) and we're talking about going to Dog Island this weekend which would probably be a good thing although I did make a proclamation a little while ago that I WASN'T GOING BACK UNTIL HE DID SOMETHING ABOUT THE FLOOR IN THE KITCHEN THERE but it was probably a hollow proclamation and he knows it. I have to tell you though that between the heat and the humidity and my general ennui right now, the thought of packing up everything we'd need for Dog Island and loading up the boat and then unloading the boat and loading the jeep and then unloading the jeep and hauling everything upstairs is a bit overwhelming. But then again, everything seems overwhelming to me right now and that includes dusting my library and calling the dog groomer to make an appointment for my non-suffering blind dogs. Washing the damn sheets and hanging them on the line and bringing them in and making the bed up was about the ultimate act of activity I was capable of today. I was reading a thing in the new Esquire magazine and it said "(continued on page 212)" and I was like, "Noooooo....So much work!" It's the annual Style Issue and as much as I love Esquire, I don't give a rat's ass about men's fashions because they're always the fucking same. Shirts and pants. There you go. Shoes. Well, what can you expect? It is a men's magazine and even if the writing is superb they're going to have to put some shit in there about men's fashion at least once a year. Actually, they put something in every month but it doesn't take up much space. I think my kids probably got half their sex education from the sex advice column in Esquire but at least it's written with humor and intelligence and probably at least a modicum of scientific accuracy. I had to get my sex education off the streets and from Reader's Digest and Good Housekeeping and the Bible, especially the Old Testament, and none of it was very accurate and some of it was horribly frightening. Guess where the frightening stuff came from? Whoo! The Bible sure talks about some kinky shit. Somehow the Religious Right never seems to have read any of that stuff. What's up with that? I will also say, in Esquire's defense (not that it needs my defense) that this ad appeared in this month's issue:

If I didn't already have a spirit totem animal (Keith Richards), this man would be mine. Willie Beautiful Nelson. If that isn't a gorgeous 80-year old man, I don't know who is. And he's proof that weed won't kill you.

Speaking of weed, if you haven't read Elizabeth's post today, go do it now.
Unlike me, she really has something to say.

God, it's hot and I'm weary. I'll bet I'm in bed by nine tonight.

Dance on, babies. I've said all I need to say.


  1. I sure do remember Baby Girl Elmira fondly, and adore her successful transition into Big Strong Man Elvis.

    Whenever I get into one big funk, I turn on Willie Nelson's "Are you sure?" It's a downer but a wanted downer.

    I'm not even married and I don't give a shit about china.

    There are my thoughts for the evening. You can be sure I'll give them to you :)

    WV: itsWar. WTF?

  2. SJ- Gender is never a real concrete thing around here, is it?
    And as to that WV? Okay. That's weird.

  3. We have about six sets of china, perhaps more. It was all inherited and belonged to various great-grands and grand mothers and mothers. We have lost track actually.

    As for the dogs, you know how I feel. They let us know when it's time. Just spent $4K on one of ours here. Had to have a splenectomy due to an hemangioma. But he is okay. We are happy to have him home.

  4. My grandmother left me her China pattern in her will. (I have never used it and it has been 14 years since she died.) My mother's china pattern sits in her china cabinet just how she left if. Neither of them am I interested in. I don't think my mom was very interested in hers but her mom wanted her to have it. My grandma grew up in the Depression and was not just Depression poor but REALLY poor. I think her China was a sign that she had arrived. She was so fucking proud of that China. And like that damn ceramic piggy bank, I can't get rid of it.

  5. I think that question about the dog could maybe be addressed with the merit badge idea? The empathy badge, where you know when it's okay to end another life?

  6. I am a cold woman. If it were me, I'd have the dogs put down. They're old, they can't see - I would want someone to put me down if I were that old. It all comes down to guilt; how much it will give you, and how much you can tolerate.
    That Elvis is a fine looking specimen.

  7. Well, you know how I feel about dogs.


  8. I'm a china sort of woman. My sheets match. But I don't have a husband or a rooster. Or even a chicken.

  9. Elvis really IS a handsome rooster. As for Elvis vs. Elmira, I once had a female cat that I named Howard when we were a bit confused about the gender of the kitten, and she stayed Howard all her life. So Elvis could have stayed Elmira, I suppose. He doesn't really look like an Elmira, though, does he?

    As for the dogs, you'll know when the time is right. I think your own sanity definitely has to figure into the equation, but personally, I'd hold out until they DO appear to be in some sort of discomfort. That will make your decision easier to live with in the long run.

  10. I know I've not commented before, but I have lurked here for a couple of years, I think. As for your dogs - dogs don't show discomfort the way people do, so it is possible that they are hurting. What you should think about is their quality of life. Can they still do the things they always loved to do? If not, be kind and give them a good death. I had a well-loved dog who had cancer, and I took him in when he no longer could eat. He had always loved to eat, and when he wouldn't take his favorite food from my hand, I knew it was time. I sometimes feel guilt that maybe it was too soon, but I know in my heart that I was right. Sounds to me like it may be time for yours. Only you can assess their quality of life.
    Thanks for letting me get a glimpse of your life! Sheila

  11. sounds to me like you've got way more life than most already.

  12. Welll, you know how I feel about this. When I told the vet I wanted Zack put down, she dubiously asked how old he was, and when I said 15, she said OHRIGHT!! and made an appointment, before I'd even enumerated his various aged problems.

    I think it's probably not much fun being an old blind dog. You've given them enough!

  13. Ps - my first memory of your blog is of the nappies on the line in the sun. I love to see things on your washing line :)

  14. Syd- I think that you are a really good and responsible dog owner. I think I suck.
    And if I had a china set, I'd leave it to you!
    (Do you want my dogs?)

    Birdie- You're right. China really used to mean something to people. It was a big deal.
    I still say you ought to throw that pig out. It would give me the willies.

    Betsy- My god, woman! You are right! Okay.

    Allison- That's the $64,000 question- how much guilt can I bear? Not that much. Dammit.

    Elizabeth- I do. Ahem.

    Denise- You should get a chicken. (Hahaha)

    Steve Reed- You're right. If only I knew that they had chronic headaches or something. Then I could rationalize it. But they don't ever TALK TO ME!

    Sheila- I'm glad you broke your lurker-hood! Thanks for commenting. Unfortunately, these dogs don't seem to be unable to do anything that one would expect a dog to do except for seeing. They keep running into shit. Believe me- they can eat fine.

    Ellen Abbott- It just sounds that way.
    And I make a big deal out of everything.

    Jo- These dogs are about fourteen. So....
    I love to see clothes hanging on the line too. It's such a lovely sight.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.