I hung out with Bill Murray in Las Vegas last night for a long time. And I think also Dan Aykroyd. (I had no idea that's how you spell "Aykroyd". Seems like a waste of a "y" there, doesn't it?)
Anyway, it was awesome. It felt like he was courting me, Bill, not Dan, and I was having serious internal moral debates due to me being married and all.
And by the way- we were both wearing overalls. He got his at Lowe's.
Luckily the dream ended before anyone did anything they might come to regret.
Maurice is being a cat this morning. She knocked over my coffee while trying to wedge herself between that and the computer and luckily, the coffee went to the left, rather than to the right where the computer is. No harm done but she was highly incensed and took off after sniffing the spreading puddle to remove any doubt that she herself had had one thing to do with the spill.
She also chased the chickens and that will NOT DO!
She brought in a mole yesterday. Dead. She is fully blooded now and so the hunting has truly begun. We're afraid to set up the bird feeders.
Remind me again of what a spirit animal she is.
Well, at least we won't go hungry.
A friend said to me via e-mail yesterday, "So I take it you're not missing the dogs too much?"
I have to be honest with you here, folks. I don't miss Buster and Dolly one iota. Not one molecule of missing them do I have in my being. When we were coming home from the island last Sunday I realized that I would not be cleaning up dog shit and pee before I even unloaded the truck. It was wonderful. Bless their little old hearts. May they rest in peace and in doing so, may that peace extend even unto me and it sure as fucking hell does.
It's Saturday. I guess I'm waiting until it gets unbearably hot to go work in the garden. I've got to get it ready for the fall planting. In other news, Missy seems to be off the brood but she's acting a little wacky. The chickens' moult is in progress and the entire yard looks like a chicken slaughter house. Elvis has about five tail feathers. This is a difficult time of year in a chicken's life and egg production will soon begin to drop. I don't think I've gotten two eggs from any of the old hens in months. They are well and truly pets now.
So it goes. I see on the FB that lots of people I know are having lovely times on North Florida beaches and in New York City and in Santa Fe and Paris and tropical islands I don't know how to spell and am too lazy to check and here I am in Lloyd, Florida. At least the hog dogs two houses down aren't barking today. I am as content to be here as are the chickens.
I had a good time last night in Las Vegas with Bill and today I will have a good time in Lloyd with my husband and my devil cat. And chickens. There are dreams and there are dreams.
It's all about the balance.
Much love...Ms. Moon