Friday, November 14, 2014

Cold, Cold, Warm, Cozy

I just got back from Kathleen and Bug's house and when I got in the car to go at about 5:45, it was fifty-four degrees and when I got back in the car around 6:30 to come home, it had already dropped to 45 degrees. When I closed the chickens up I said, "Snuggle up, my lovelies. It is going to be cold tonight."

I'm writing from the table in the dining room and there are four plants on this table, three of them brought in from the Buddha table on the porch. Maurice is nuzzling the ponytail palm and nipping at the ends of the fronds which I myself feel a slight compulsion to braid.

I moved through this day with purpose and intent. I did ALL the things. Laundry and sheets-on-line and walking and covering ferns and making soup with greens I picked from the garden and making bread and yet another pineapple upside-down cake, this one with a bit of guava in it too as well as pecans. I filled the chicken waterer and collected the eggs and remade the bed and took the trash and kept up with the dishes and put things away and now my world feels right and good.

It was sweet to see Kathleen and Bug in the beautiful house they've made into their home with such hard work and love. Kathleen has been feeling poorly with a stomach virus which she said has made her cranky. "Haven't I been cranky?" she asked her husband as he buttered the still-warm bread.
He muttered a very, very quiet, almost inaudible "yes," and then he brought her the bread on a plate.

I'm sorry. I think if I had cancer and then got a stomach bug on top of it I would not be fucking cranky. I think I would be hysterical and demanding IV morphine with great blood-curdling shrieks, tearing my hair out and rending my garments. But that's just me.
Kathleen though, is sitting there looking beautiful, crocheting her sixth blanket of the season, telling me that she's been "cranky."
Bless that woman. And bless her husband who takes such loving care of her.

Anyway, now I am home and have plugged in my star lights, my globe lights.

They illuminate my Frank Baisden smiling sunflowers, some of the dolls my children have made me, some pictures of my children, and of course, the despondent and yet, somehow apathetic-looking baby Jesus which, along with his parents and an angel, came with the house and which sits in front of the dining room fireplace all year 'round.

I talked to Jessie who had thought that maybe after work she'd come spend the night (Vergil is still out of town) because she's been sick this week and maybe wanted a little mama-time. She decided to just stay home even though I kept back a bowl of chicken soup in case she did come. I got an e-mail today from a bookstore in Apalachicola that a book I had expressed interest in- the sixty-fifth anniversary edition of a novel called The Wrath and the Wind written by Alexander Key and set in Aplachicola in the 1840's- is now available and I told Jessie that if we both got real wild hairs tomorrow we might consider driving over to Apalach to buy a copy and have lunch.

Why not? Neither of us have anyone to be responsible for beyond our animals. She is off work and I am...footloose and fancy-free although I already told her that I don't want to be gone for too long, because, well, that's the way I am. She is my child. She understands.

I hope that Kathleen can eat some of my bread and soup and not have her stomach revolt. I did not put one grain of any sort of pepper in the soup, just rice and the baby garden greens and carrots and celery and onions and garlic. And not too much of the onion and garlic. The bread had potatoes and a little bit of oat bran but mostly just white flour and an egg, some oil and salt and sugar and molasses. It rose beautifully on sturdy shoulders and Bug said that tomorrow morning he will make French toast which is what I had this morning myself, made with the bread I baked a few days ago for Mr. Moon and an egg dropped right from the chicken's butt.

Maurice has come in to nibble the ponytail palm again and to ask me if it isn't time for supper.

It is.

May all be well with you on this Friday night in November. Put on your Goodwill cashmere if you have it. Snuggle up, my lovelies. It is going to get cold tonight.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I just talked to Jan of Jan and Jack The Lovers and it was so wonderful to talk to her.
Thank-you, Jan, for calling me.
I'll see you next week. I'll bring eggs.


  1. Well, what a fine life.
    Here too. Cheese. Wine. A 90-year-old mom with a martini.
    I don't work nearly as hard as you, but I'm proud to say that all four beds in my house have clean sheets.
    That's something', right?

  2. It is c-c-c-cold. But I am a big baby living in the far-as-you-can-go-West-in-Canada. Where I live, -1 C. is about as cold as it gets and I shiver and complain. That reminds me. My feet are cold so I am going to put on the fire. And go to bed early.

  3. I am glad it hasn't gotten cold enough here to bring in plants, not yet. I have a big ponytail palm while I haven't ever braided it I have given it a haircut. Gail

  4. Denise- Some days I work like a Trojan. Other days, I drift and don't. Four beds with clean sheets? You are the boss of me.

    ditchingthedog- I'm fixing to go get in my own bed. Whatever temperature that is in C, it's colder than here.

    Gail- Haha! Love it.

  5. Cold indeed. We got about 8 inches of snow and we are in single digits for the temperature. Good times. It's time to move to Florida.

  6. Perhaps the Baby Jesus has a gas bubble? Denise is the boss of me too, I have been whining about changing our spare room bed for Friday night five days away.

  7. cold here but not as cold as
    friday and last night not as cold as thursday night. it will be again though and colder and in just a day or two. ick. but working in the shop all week, it wasn't as bad as I feared.

  8. Mr. Shife- Don't tell anyone but they do allow people to live here in Florida. It's a carefully guarded secret.

    Cathy H-S- Haha! On both counts!

    Ellen Abbott- Of COURSE you have star lights too! Supposed to freeze hard here on Tuesday night. We're sharing weather systems.

  9. Why do cats like plants with long, pointy leaves? They universally like to stick those leaves down their throats. I don't get it.

    Thanks for the additional info on the Alexander Key book!

    Oh, and your fireplace ornament is fab. Dave would hate it, just like he hates my cement Pieta from the thrift store in Cortez.

  10. I read Kathleen's blog and she seemed to devour the bred. You are a good friend.


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