Saturday, November 1, 2014
Tangled Up In Blue
You know what that is? It's the face of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. And I mean physically beautifully.
He ain't pretty. He is beautiful.
Elizabeth does brilliant three-line movie reviews and I'm going to do a one-line movie review of St. Vincent, Murray's movie which has just hit the theaters in the big wide world, even in Tallahassee.
Here it is:
A precious movie with the brilliant Bill Murray.
That man doesn't need lines. He could do it all with his face. His body. He is the actor's actor. Here's his secret- he becomes his character. And we believe it.
When the credits were rolling over this piece of film
I felt pitiful sorrow for any of the people credited. You cannot take your eyes off the man to read their names.
Well. Yes. Take hankies.
It was another good day. I went to help Hank move with a car full of cleaning supplies which is what he asked for as a house-warming gift. Mop and bucket and broom and all sorts of cleaners and cleansers and vinegar and rags and scrubbers and etc. Our dear and talented blogger friend Juancho was there with his van, ready to help.
"Grab that end of the couch and let's do this thing!" he said.
Jessie showed up and then Hank's other daddy, my ex, and his son and grandson. Dang but it was good to see these people. I have a few more hugs in the bank now.
I took a load of stuff over to Hank's new apartment and it's a thing of beauty. Freshly painted white walls, hallways, a shining green tiled bathroom. A kitchen big enough to put a table and chairs in. Windows you can open to the breezes. Rooms. Plural. And good-sized ones. Basically, not a dark, dank den.
And- there's a beautiful tangerine tree on the property full of fruit so good and sweet that it reminded me of living in Central Florida to peel one and eat it. The taste and smell of my childhood as I dug my thumbnail into the skin.
This is the beginning of a new life for Hank. I feel it.
Speaking of fruit, I brought home three lemons from a tree in Jessie and Vergil's yard and while they were picking them, I said to Vergil, "Here you are with your own citrus tree in Florida! You are living the dream, baby!"
They got a big snow in Asheville last night and Vergil is picking lemons off his tree.
Which doesn't mean it's not cold here. Cold enough for me, at least. And Mr. Moon has come home a day early because the 60 mph wind gusts up at the hunting camp had the deer hunkered down and not moving. So I have my man to snuggle with and I'm cooking chicken with garlic and lemons and it smells so damn good.
I went out, I saw people, I hugged people. I carried antique typewriters up stairs. I saw a good movie and wept silently in the dark beside Kati and Jessie. I am cooking dinner.
And tomorrow I'm going to Waylon's birthday party and will see more people I love.
I think of myself as living such an isolated life and yet, in some ways, it is not isolated at all.
I remember when Mr. Moon and I got married and it was perfect. We had three days to get ready and somehow in that time we got wedding clothes and flowers and a smoked turkey and a cake and a honeymoon plan and yet, not enough time to have our names printed out on napkins.
We only have so much time and so much opportunity to love the people we love, to get to the heart of what we are trying to do.
Make good choices. Use capers with a free hand but not too free. Remember, when collecting antique typewriters that if you ever move, someone is going to have to carry them upstairs. The concept of al dente may be highly overrated if you are cooking for love and comfort.
Don't be afraid to say what you're meaning to say with your face and body. Hug the ones you love until you think they may be smushed with your love.