Thursday, March 31, 2016

Babies, Etc.

Well, Ms. Magnolia had a perfectly fine day with her Mermer and her brother who still runs up to her and kisses her on the head and says, "You're so cute! I love you!" and then runs off. We did the usual things including egg-gathering and bottle-feeding and carrot-pulling and bamboo-kicking and diaper-changing and porch-swing-swinging and sky-and-trees-bending-and-waving-in-the-breeze-observing. This girl is just full of smiles and I even got to take a tiny, sweet nap with her on my bed while Jessie watched Gibson for me. I drew her towards me and put my arm around her and it was heaven.

Gibson was glad to be back at Mer's and for lunch he wanted two scrambled eggs which he helped me to make and then part of a giant carrot and also a few sour flowers.

And lest you think we are too healthy around here, he also had three prunes, some Chex Mix and an enormous dill pickle. 

Jessie and August had come out so that when Lily got here after picking up Owen, we could all go to the Monticello Tractor Supply and look at baby chicks. 

Let me just say right now that going to look at baby chicks with two daughters who are completely centered on small, baby-like creatures and two grandsons who keep running up with dinosaurs they want you to buy (yes, they have dinosaurs at the Tractor Supply as well as a bunch of other cool toys and also overalls and kerchiefs and equine supplies and...well...everything) is not the best idea in the world. You may end up with three unsexed Barred Plymouth Rock chickens and three banties of indeterminate breed, one of which is probably going to die before morning. 
Oh well. They are cute. 
I had sworn not to get any bantam chickens because they are one of the predators' main taste treat, being so tiny and tender but when we saw the tiny gray one, we swooned and that's what we have and there you go. The little gray one is Violet for sure and if she turns out to be a rooster, I suppose we can call her Vince. 

Here we go again, folks! 
I ended up paying over sixty dollars for fifteen dollars worth of chickens plus chick feed, plus pine bedding, plus a feeder, plus dinosaurs. And one tractor for August. 

Jessie had me take this picture and she put it on her midwife's FB page, advising her that Monticello has some real deals on home delivery.

I just went and checked on the babies and they're all still alive and seem to be well. I am not giving them my heart yet because you know damn well what happens when I do that. Chicks are immensely strong as well as fragile and I hope that they all grow up to be thriving members of the Moon Flock but we can never know what will happen. They could all turn out to be roosters, for one thing. I am with chicken raising much as I am with gardening- every year that I do it is another year for me to realize that I don't know shit. 

Oh well. We are having carrot salad tonight and I do know that for the past two years I have grown some magnificent carrots. 
And to add to that- I have been one of the progenitors of some magnificent children and grandchildren. 

Oh. Here's one more picture. 

Gus isn't really interested in eating but he certainly does love to chew on a spoon. And that's his first hair-do.
Baby steps. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Nowhere To Run, Nowhere To Hide

Let me just say that those thirty-one dollar supplements are doing not one damn thing to even out my adrenals. 

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The Knees Are The First To Go

I think I may have overdone it today. I ended up doing a lot of weeding and I had wanted to rake and spread leaves on the parts I'd cleared but after I raked up about enough leaves to cover maybe one tenth of that area I said DONE, ENOUGH, NO MORE!
Besides, Mr. Moon had taken my yard cart for a job he needed to do in town and I was raking leaves onto a sheet, bundling it up and toting it to the garden and that is ridiculous and now I just want to cry because I'm so tired and I'm walking like a ninety-year old woman instead of a sixty-one year old woman and I'd love to take a shower and get in bed but it's only six-thirty in the evening and so forth.
And it got hot. It was over 80 in the shade of the porch and it was a lot hotter than that out in the garden in full sun and I know that if I don't get this stuff done now and the summer garden put in, it's not going to happen because I just can't do it anymore- work in the summer heat.
Oh well. Wah, wah, wah. 
One of the hardest things about aging as far as I've observed, is the sad fact that you just can't do what you used to do. Okay, maybe I should be more specific. I can't do what I used to do. I know full well that there are octogenarians out there running marathons and teaching yoga and competing in weight-lifting competitions but I ain't one of 'em and seriously doubt I will be.

Tomorrow Lily is going to go back to work for just a few hours and will be bringing Gibson and Magnolia over for me to tend and then she's going to pick up Owen and bring him here and we're going to Monticello to see if there are any chicks I might want. The baby chick fever has sort of cooled down but I'd still like to get a few new ones. At least enough to give them the names that Owen has chosen already which are Mona Lisa, Violet, and Nicey, Jr. We shall see. And it will be nice to have Gibson and Maggie here. I hope I can keep up with Gibson while keeping his little sister happy. I probably can. I did it when Gibson was the baby and Owen was the big kid. I have to say though that it would all be a lot easier if I could just lactate at will. It's sort of crazy how my instinctive response to a fussy baby is still to put him or her on the tit which I do not do, I assure you. I read a thing online today about a woman who nursed her sister's baby and it was written in the spirit of, "Wow! Can you believe this?"
Good Lord. Anyway, I know how to make a bottle and Magnolia June shall be fed if she's hungry.

Anyway, that's the news tonight from Lloyd where we're having leftovers for supper. I truly need to clean out the refrigerator and some leftovers will just not lend themselves to making soup, believe it or not. Plus- part of what we'll be eating is soup made out of leftovers.

God, I'm tired.

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon


Cherokee Rose

Walk around Lloyd and give salute waves to neighbors passing in cars, greet those in person with good morning. Some times the best walks come from days of high anxiety, the brain floating somewhere else, disassociated from the body which doesn't need much help in its sweaty effort anyway, one foot in front of another, look, the bushy green dog fennel is coming on, last year's sticks neatly lying where they dropped, a small fortress of brittle stems, dewberry blooming low to the ground on its vines, blackberries already blooming on scratchy bushes. Stop to pee and look down, see a brown spider moving across the pine needles and be glad I am not arachnophobic, its pattern pretty and clever, I do not in the least wish it harm as it scuttles away. I am in its world, after all.

Remember when I get home to break down all the things I believe I "need" to do into one-step-at-a-time. This is not rocket science nor is it of any real importance and know that in trying to control my environment I am trying to control my mind and there is only so much I can do in either case. Put on overalls to go kneel in the dirt, pray to the sun, to the recent rains, to the rising plants, to those now ready to pull which have spent their brief life sustaining mine.

Eat. Pray. Love.

Sure. You do it your way. I'll do it mine.

Also breathe. Just keep going and be glad of that.

Move/stay-still/float/drift/squat/stand/bend/reach/look up/notice and remember that we all have our places, spider and human, chicken and bluebird, flower and oak tree. Forgive yourself for perceived sins and shortcomings.

Well. Try. And keep on.


Tuesday, March 29, 2016

I Got Everything I Need, Right Here

Ms. Jessie brought August over today for a visit which was good because I was having a hard time getting a damn thing done. I thought maybe we'd take a walk, Jessie and August and me, and stop by Ms. Liola's house to drop off some eggs and show her the baby and I decided to go pick her some greens before Jessie got here. While I was out there, I decided to just go ahead and pull the mustards, which I did, but I saved some of the pretty bolt blossoms. I gave a good many of the pulled mustards to the goats next door and they happily chomped their way through them. My garden buddy cat came to join me in my work.

She persists in insisting that she has no interest in me or what I'm doing in that garden, but every time I go out there to work, she joins me so her story is getting a little thin.

August reminded me today of a little Buddhist monk. He is wearing those amber beads now which purport to have magical qualities for the baby and of course they do not. jewelry. The best. After they got here and he woke up and had a little nursey snack, we put him in the stroller and walked down Main Street to Ms. Liola's trailer and sure enough, she was there, and delighted to meet August and Jessie. Mostly August. I just love that woman. She has such a sweet, sweet soul. She flirted with my grandson and played peek-a-boo and he gave her smiles and she tickled his foot and he gave her more. We chatted for a bit and then I handed over the eggs and the greens and she must have said half a dozen times, "Now don't be a stranger," and then she said, "And bring back the baby!"We promised we would and then we walked on to the Fally Down House which is becoming more and more a part of the earth every day.

The right side, as you see from here, is truly on its way to complete collapse. Several trees have grown into the walls of the house, upsetting any integrity which is left by now. I couldn't get over there to take pictures because the house is surrounded by poison ivy which is growing this year like I've never seen before.
Still, I am taken by the dignity which the old place retains as it completes its life cycle, the wallpaper that some long-ago woman put up on her humble walls still clinging in places. I cannot help but wonder about all of the stories this cabin could tell, were it given a voice.

Today was a day for August to taste things. We picked a sour flower for him and he gummed it up good. He likes sour.

When we got home, we walked around the yard for a bit and I made Jessie pose in the spot where Vergil proposed marriage to her. 

The tree that he asked her under is half the size it was then, due to its splitting apart a few years ago which is sad but the bees have made a home and a hive in it and fly in and out of an entrance into what must be a hollow part of the trunk and thus- more life and nature does abhor a vacuum whether in a tree or a couple's heart. 

We kicked a few bamboo and Jessie peeled one for her son to gnaw on. He was not impressed although he happily reached for it and tried it out. 

And then on to the garden where we pulled him a carrot which he worked at manfully while he stared at Mick, the rooster. 

I kissed and hugged and tickled and played with that boy so much today. He is just such a fine baby. He is six months old today! Can you believe it? I love how when he takes a little nap and wakes up and sees me or his mama he just breaks into huge grins. Like, "Here I am! Back again! And there you are too!" He is strong and curious and as handsome as handsome can be. 

After they left, Jessie stopped by Lily's to pick up a few things from Easter. Lily sent me this picture.

I can barely stand it. Super Girl and Buddha Boy. 

And so it's been a good day. I've been easily brought to tears and I haven't gotten much done but that's all right. I did what I wanted to and ultimately, exactly what I needed to do. I even got the hen house cleaned out and that was a chore long overdue. 

I've been trying and trying to get a good picture of the Bridal Wreath Spirea and have not made myself happy with the results but here's a fairly nice picture of Mick posing under it. 

I swear. He loves to pose. Is this something innate in all beautiful creatures? I do not know. I don't know shit. But I do know that it's been a good day and I got to talk to my next door neighbors, who, although completely different from me in almost every way imaginable, are good people and wonderful neighbors and we are completely comfortable discussing chickens and goats and dogs and cats but I will never, ever discuss religion or politics with them. Which is all for the best. Trust me. 

I plucked one of the last Seafoam camellias today as well as a few of the roses and here is what they look like in the hallway with my most formal vase which I actually bought in a store holding the mustard blossoms. 

I saw one of the bluebirds fly out of the nesting box this evening. 
I am cooking spinach and rice. 
I am kissed-up and loved-up and laughed-up and filled up.
My man will be home soon.

Love...Ms. Moon

Let There Be Light...Maybe Tomorrow?

I slept and I slept and I slept so hard that I didn't get out of bed until Mr. Moon called at 9:30 and the bed is barely disturbed. I don't even think I turned over once but stayed in the exact same position I was in when I turned out the light.
All of my plans to get out into the yard to work seem a bit overwhelming today, although perhaps I will, eventually, find the energy. For now I just feel a big foggy, a bit sore, as if instead of laying paralyzed all night I had been fighting with demons.

It's gray here today and that's all right. Spring is still upon us.

That's how much a bamboo can shoot up in one night. I'd say about eight inches tall. 

All of the chickens. Maurice and Jack both followed me out to watch the daily chicken-release ritual but it was Jack today who followed me around the yard. 

He is a most affectionate and curious fellow, that Jack. He ran about and then climbed a tree as if to show off his skills to his old human mama. 

He is still a young thing and I am very glad he's come to live with us. He's charmed Mr. Moon completely. 

The wisteria is blooming in the bamboo.

It's a weed. It's invasive. It is glorious.

The honeysuckle continues to bloom.

Could there be a prettier word? A sweeter word?

Oh dear Lord. I have so much to do and feel as if I've been shelled, I've been skinned, I've been de-scaled and am naught but a wiggling pink worm of a thing, trying to shelter myself from everything. 
Which is fine. 
This is a good gray day in a just-right place for doing exactly that.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday, March 28, 2016

I'm Okay

Well, it's been an interesting day, to say the least.
The "exam" was not really an exam but more of a weight check (bad but could have been worse), a BP reading (bad, but could have been worse) and then some talking with the NP. And then getting blood drawn for hormone levels, thyroid, etc. And I peed in a cup.
Not a big deal. Not a big deal at all. I bought some supplements there which are supposed to "even out my adrenals" and so forth. And then I got the fuck out of the office and was on my way to go buy some tomato plants when I started having a panic attack.
My adrenals were obviously not, at that point, evened out and in fact, dumped enough of their adrenalin juice to make my mind go so fuzzy that I knew I had to park it somewhere so I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where May used to work which is on the grounds of an old estate here, now a museum, and I called my husband.
I sat there and breathed and knew exactly what was happening and knew also that I had to let it pass and was wise enough to know that I needed someone to be there with me. If I hadn't been able to get my man, I would have called one of my kids and they would have come. But Mr. Moon, my knight in shining armor, my strong and precious love, came right away and he hugged me tight and said, "Let's walk," and so we did. We admired the wild azaleas and noted the blooming wisteria and found a very large Ashe magnolia and it all helped. He held my hand tightly and I kept breathing and my mind came back to me and I settled down and made him leave and sat there for awhile and then drove on out and did a few errands and came home without incident.

It wasn't so bad and I think that the Ativan I took before I left this morning helped make it a milder thing than it would have been without it. But I tell you what- I am exhausted now. I felt like I could have slept for a week and still do but I wanted to keep moving, which I did, albeit slowly.

The first time I ever experienced an attack like this, or whatever you want to call it, it scared me to death. Was I losing my mind? Was I having a stroke? Had I suddenly simply fallen into madness? Was I going to die? Did I really care?
And thank god, these incidents don't come often (the last one I had before this one was when my brother was here) but when they do, I know what's going on and that, in itself, is a huge relief. But it's still scary because I can't control it. I can ride it out and I know it will pass but what if it happens when I'm out somewhere and can't get to a safe place?

Yet another good reason to be an agoraphobic, right?

One of the things I did this afternoon was to go around and fill up the yard cart with fallen sticks and branches and I saw that the bamboo was starting to sprout. I kicked the ones I saw, preventing their growth in that spot at least and I noticed wisteria blooming up in the tops of trees. Violets are everywhere, the purple ones now, their pretty blossoms in and among the blooming oxalis which the children call "sour flowers" and love to eat.

Mr. Moon got a very late start to Orlando tonight and I worry about that but he reassures me that if he gets tired, he will stop and pull over to sleep a bit. I know he will. But still. I made him his popcorn which he eats one kernel at a time and two tuna fish sandwiches and a pear and some other stuff. He has a book to listen to. His Mondays are just such long days though. He gets up at six a.m. and goes to the gym before he even starts his regular day of work.
I've never met a harder worker than he is. Ever.

I'm going to go put the sheets I washed this afternoon on the bed and I intend to be in that bed before ten. I am going to sleep the sleep of the truly tired and tomorrow I am going to stay right here in Lloyd and hopefully work in my yard, tidying up and trimming palms and kicking bamboo and pulling some of the bolting greens in the garden. I want to take Miss Liola some eggs which I have a goodly plenty of. I am probably going to think about what happened to me today but I am not going to overthink it. I am also never going to be thankful that I suffer from anxiety but I am thankful that I have such support and love to help me get through the really tough times.
I want to remember that walk I took today with my husband, our hands clasped together, walking through the beauty of spring in a place where nature has been more encouraged than tamed, where my husband did not try to talk me down or use logic to make me better but just held on to me as we wandered slowly beneath giant old oaks which was exactly what I needed.

I want to remember that when I need help, I can ask for it.

I guess that's all I want to say now.

Let's all sleep well.

Love...Ms. Moon, the sometimes very, very vulnerable.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

How To Have Easter

Pass the babies around the table, kiss them good and snorgle them up. Eat the ham and dolmades and deviled eggs and greens and carrots from Mermer's garden along with the asparagus and gouda tart, the pineapple and cheese casserole, the hummus, the mac and cheese, the bread, the rolls, the key lime pie. Declare this to be the perfect Easter menu. Because it is.

Challenge Gibson and the tiny fairy-girl Lenore to a hugging competition. Judge on tightness of squeeze and tolerance of kisses. Declare them both to be winners. Let August kiss my face and make blubbering noises. Watch him as Jessie lets Uncle Hank offer him a lemon slice for the first time.

Laugh as he grimaces and then brings the lemon back to his mouth again and again for the same outcome. Admire his brown wide-wale corduroy Oshkosh overalls that go with his brown wide-open eyes, his curly black lashes, his sweet slobber on my face, the smacky sound as we pop open-mouth kisses.

Take the granddaughter as often as possible and feed her bottles. Lie on the bed with her where she was born and admire her very presence and beauty. Watch the daddies hold and play with their babies and see the pride and love in their eyes and know that this is perfection.

Rejoice in the renewed health of our friends. 

Explain to Owen about the difference between blood relatives and heart relatives when he asks you. 

Admire the Lego chick that Uncle Mark helped Owen make. Hug Mark as much as possible. Tell him over and over again how glad you are that he is there. 

Kiss the newly-weds, be glad for it all. 

Come home and continue the count-down until the Nurse Practitioner appointment tomorrow. Try to explain to your husband why you are so anxious. Say something about how you can't stand the idea of anyone looking inside of your body to find your hidden secrets which are your own to keep. Play cards, get your ass whipped. Pet the cats and feed them treats. Clean up the kitchen and find six sea scallops in the freezer to thaw and cook. 
Drink a martini. 
Discover that Jim Harrison has died. Remember the night you saw him read at a local dive where he was burly and boisterous and drunk and didn't give one goddammed shit. Think about the night you were reading his poems on the beach at St. George Island. 

Accept that the rain still falls. 

Drink another martini. 

Continue to remember that by this time tomorrow, the appointment will be long done. 

Try to give yourself some wise and calm mother-love. Remember that you are a grown-ass woman. 

Look up to realize that the sky has grown a strange color of peach and purple. 

Remember that you have a stashed and cherished Ativan to get you through tomorrow's appointment. 
Be fucking grateful for every damn bit of it. 

Go cook the scallops. 

Love...Ms. Moon 


Stolen from Facebook.
Let the party begin!

It's Another Holiday. Let's EAT!

Well, there's your Lloyd Easter right there. Got your eggs, got your carrots. Although no bunny rabbits were involved as far as I know.

The greens are back on the stove, the ham is in the oven and I have a loaf of bread hopefully rising. Our dear friend Mark who traditionally spends Easter with us was not able to last year due to health problems but he's coming today and he expects the ham, the greens, and the bread and dammit, he calls me "Mom" and I want to make him bread. He's been through hell and he's slowly making his way back out of pain and misery and stepping out a bit into the world. He's never even met August or Magnolia and he loves babies and they love him. So that's what I'm mostly looking forward to today- celebrating Mark with so many people who love him.

The rain is still coming down and in a few hours we'll be driving over to Lily's which has become the family meeting place. We were just there last week for Gibson's birthday and the week before that we were all together for May's wedding and this is the most gather-up family you ever met outside of Mormons. Which we definitely are not. We drink WAY too much coffee and adult beverages to ever think of being Mormons and none of us are overly fond of regular underwear, much less the magical kind.

But Lord knows we love to eat and we love to hold babies and we love to hug and we love to laugh and we love to giggle and we love each other, the ones we are blood-related to and the ones we are heart-related to and I guess I'll go fix up the boys' Easter baskets I'm bringing them and there will be no Easter bonnets involved in our celebration, no crosses and all of the Good News will be of baby teeth and better health and the fact that Lily is making the Famous Pineapple Cheese casserole and I would wish such goodness and love for all of us.

Yours truly...Ms. Moon

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Sex, Rain, Love, Music, And So Forth

It's Saturday night and the rain still falls and it's been a good day with plenty of rest and a few things accomplished and there was a nap and the falling rain outside sounded like Buddhist bells, tiny and real and in my bed I felt comforted and stilled and healed and well.

I've just spent well over an hour trying to write something about why I love the Rolling Stones so much and it involved the sexual abuse I suffered and how music freed me to know that my body was my own and for my own pleasure and use and how the Beatles teaching me about love, the Stones teaching me about sex, probably saved my life.

But I can't seem to get it down right, can't seem to say it the way I mean it, can't find the right Youtube videos to illustrate it and god DAMN it, why does every video I watch start out with an advert for Bounty paper towels? Every. Single. One.

All I can say is that human beings are spirit and flesh and I was lucky as hell to come into awareness when there were suddenly teachers, inadvertent as they may have been, to make me know that I deserved to live fully in both, no matter what had happened to me, been done to me, sermoned to me.

I am as grateful for that as I am for anything I know. Because that music, not just of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones but of so many others from Simon and Garfunkel to the Beach Boys and Mozart and Bach and Beethoven and Bette Midler and B.B. King and Bo Diddley and Joni Mitchell and The Neville Brothers and St. Bruce Springsteen and on and on and on and on kept me alive and dancing and sometimes joyful when I don't think anything else could have.

They were all there when I needed them and I'm still here and I still believe with all of my heart the messages I have been given by them and I know that I am still living on this earth partly due to them and any sanity I may have have has to be credited to their messages.

Spirit and flesh. I refuse to be part of any religion which denies or denigrates the flesh and which sanctifies and glorifies the denial and suffering of it in the name of spirit.

It's still raining, gently and sweetly. As gently and sweetly as a thoughtful and respectful lover.
As real and as necessary to the continuation of life as is human touch is to the continuation of our species.

I guess that's all I need to say.

Love...Ms. Moon

Spring Reveal

Still gray and drizzly here and I still don't mind it one bit.
I am still a bit gray and drizzly myself or perhaps "grizzly" would more accurately describe things. But it was lovely to go outside and take a few pictures.

The roses which I never did get around to pruning don't really seem to care much.

When I went to check eggs I saw something I'd never seen before and I had to blink my eyes several times to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing and I was and it was Miss Chi-Chi with her head under Miss Mabel who was sitting on the nest. 
Excuse me? 
Chi-Chi pulled her head of out Mabel's ass, as it were, and they began a little tussle for the prime egg-laying spot. 

Although I do not understand what it is that causes one spot to suddenly be the spot to lay, I am convinced that there are reasons. People who say that chickens are stupid are...stupid. I'm listening to Oliver Sacks' autobiography and when he did one of his first experiments on living creatures- chickens- he came to love them and suffered greatly when they died. And thus, I love him even more, that precious man, may he rest in peace.

The garden is in transition. After I cook tomorrow's greens, the mustards and arugula will be coming out, the collards soon to follow. They are bolting. 

But the potatoes and peas and beans are all looking swell. 


Rattlesnake beans. 

The wisteria is starting to purple.

The figs are putting out little figlets. 

The mulberries are going to be ripe soon but I couldn't get a good picture of them. 

And so it goes. 

Mr. Moon and I just took all of the potted plants back outside which is quite a chore and we will miss our hallway jungle but it's time and what a perfect day to set them out again with this gentle rain. 
Now, of course, I have to clean all of the floors where we tracked dirt with our shoes and the dolly but so it goes. 

And here's a picture I just stole off Facebook. 

He's got two teeth now and is working on a piece of celery. I'll take him carrots for his Easter present. 

From the reviews I've read about the Stones concert in Cuba last night, I take it that all went well. Perhaps half a million Cubans showed up to witness that historical event. As Mick said, forty years ago, their music was forbidden on the island. Of course that didn't stop anyone from listening any way they could and the forbidden is always more delicious but what an incredibly cool thing that Cubans finally got to see what they've been missing. 
I hope they taped it and that I'll get to see it one day too.

All right. That's it. Those floors aren't going to clean themselves and the greens aren't going into the pots themselves and the carrots aren't going to pick themselves and that nap I'm planning on isn't going to take itself without my help. 

Gold Rings On Ya...Ms. Moon

Friday, March 25, 2016

How To Tell When You've Added All The Ingredients To The Soup

Pot Filled

Venison, sweet potato, carrots, greens, green beans, snow peas, white potato, onion, garlic, celery, tomatoes, peas, corn, broccoli.
I'm probably forgetting something.

That was my main accomplishment today and I had to take a nap with the cats before I started slicing and chopping. It's been raining on and off all day so it's been a perfect day to just let it all go, let the world, as I say, turn on its axis without me.

Whatever's going on, if that soup doesn't cure me I don't know what will.

Good Enough Friday

It's gray and drizzling here today and I've already cleaned up chicken poop from the back porch where the white chickens (always the white chickens) have come in to finish up what's left in Luna's bowl of food. Jack sits on the kitchen porch, watching the rain come down while Maurice is choosing to stay inside, perching in the hallway, content to observe and drowse there.

There are hundreds of tiny birds at the feeder- finches and wrens, I think- and Mick stands beneath it, calling his hens to him but they are ignoring him, having decided to scratch in more protected areas. The cardinals joust for space among the little birds, scarlet against this gray day. 

I'm not sure I feel that well today and quite frankly, may spend some of my time cozied up in my bed, finishing Alexandra Fuller's Leaving Before The Rains Come.
What a powerful writer she is. If you've never read her, I can't recommend her enough. Start with her amazing first memoir Don't Let's Go To The Dogs Tonight and go from there. 

So. It's good Friday. I don't have it in me to do an Easter rant. I'd rather just eat chocolate eggs. Not that I have any. But still. Poor old Jesus. I hope he knows that I don't expect him to die for my sins. I truly don't think I've done anything bad enough to deserve crucifixion. Nor do I desire to live forever, especially not in the arms of certain family members. 

I'd rather talk about the Rolling Stones. 

There they are, arriving last night on the island of Cuba. 
I just read a great article from the Wall Street Journal which says what I've been trying to say so clumsily about the historical meaning of the Stones playing in Havana. 

Well, thunder is rolling from the south, the redwing blackbirds have joined the birds at the feeder and if I get back in bed, perhaps Maurice or Jack will come in for a cuddle and a scratch.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Thursday, March 24, 2016

I Am The Luckiest Woman In The World, Part 10,000

All right. Call the cuteness control squad.

This child. Looking at her mother with such love.

And pure delight. 
When she smiles, she smiles with her whole being. She'd just had a nursey in the car after Target shopping. As did August. 

Here's the second suspect in the cuteness-breaking-the-world crime. 

It was his first time to sit in the cart seat and he was absolutely stunned and amazed. And happy. 
For a few minutes, at least. 

Here are the co-conspirators after a lunch nap. 

Guilty, your honor. Guilty of exceeding the cuteness limit, of being adorable beyond redemption. 

This is why whenever my kids text or call me and say, "Do you want to go..."
I don't even bother to see where or when. I just pretty much say, "Of course!"

And then I trudge my old Mermer self out and follow my daughters around and sniff fuzzy heads and hold babies and tickle and nibble toes and push carts or do whatever needs and deserves to be done because these children are not going to be this age ever again and...
What the hell am I saying? Their age isn't going to matter because pretty soon they're going to be the most adorable toddlers, toddling around together and their mamas are going to need even more help (they don't really need my help, I just use that as an excuse) and it's going to be impossible to not go anywhere with them whenever I am asked. 

And frankly, it makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world that my kids want to hang out with me even though they do sometimes make fun of me and remind me of things I did when they were children that make me apologize profusely and promise to pay their therapy bills although sometimes, they also remind me of things that I did that make me quietly proud. 
Hell. We do our best. And when I observe them, as mothers, I know I did okay. 

Plus. We laugh ourselves silly, talking about sex and stuff that you can talk about with your grown daughters. 

And I love that my kids know I am a completely imperfect being and that I've never lied about that and they still love me anyway. 

And we ate lunch with Hank who also seems to love his mama and yeah, it was a sweet day although we ate so much at the Indian buffet that we couldn't sample a damn thing at Costco and WE HATE THAT! And they were sampling everything, goddam it. Everything except coffee, which is what we needed. 

After I dropped off the sisters and babies at Lily's house and hugged and loved on my boys who are doing much better, I came home and set up the ironing board and ironed. It was awesome. 

Sometimes I wonder what people think when they first stumble on my blog. What is this blog about? Grandchildren? Chickens? Gardens? Cooking? Anxiety and depression? Aging? Florida? Keith Richards? 

And I would have to say YES! All of that. 
But mostly what it's about is love. 

All right. I'm going to go cook our supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon