Here is what Miss Camellia looks like today. As you can see, she hasn't gotten her tail feathers back but she doesn't look plucked anymore.
I think I've finally got my phone sorted out but am not quite sure. I've talked to tech help twice already but that had to do with messaging and activation. I've got beans cooking on the stove and laundry going.
I am feeling eight thousand kinds of anxious. Like I've taken some bad speed for those of you who may ever have made that mistake back in the olden, olden days. And I'm sure that it's mostly about Thanksgiving. Not the meal itself. I could do my part of the cooking half asleep with one hand tied behind my back.
But I don't feel like talking about it and I'm going to just get on with it. Make my cornbread for stuffing, make my pies, go buy greens at the farmer's market in Monticello because my collards aren't big enough to make a decent mess of yet. Not "mess" like messy but "mess" like, "Mama made a mess of greens for Thanksgiving."
And so forth. I have two venison roasts brining in salt and brown sugar that Mr. Moon is going to smoke. I need to make my angel biscuit dough. Lily keeps offering to just buy rolls but I don't know- I like making the bread. I guess I'm just not ready to give up all of my Thanksgiving duties as of yet. Not ready to abdicate my matriarchal role entirely.
So it goes and so it is. I'm trying to find my lotus flower as Lis says.
Six more months, good lord willing and the creek don't rise.