Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Some Things Even The River Can't Cure

I woke up this morning and went to the hallway to turn the thermostat up and lying beneath it on the floor was a lovely rat, barely marked by death but stiff as a nail when I swept it onto the dust pan to fling into the woods.
Maurice knows that the first thing I do every morning is go adjust that thermostat and I bet she thought I'd love that rat, maybe skin it for my breakfast and give her an extra helping of Temptations to thank her for her thoughtfulness but instead, my morning angst only increased to the point where I was unsure of why I should go on, and laugh if you want but some days it doesn't take much to push me to the edge of the damn cliff.
Seeing as how there are no cliffs in Lloyd I got the broom and dustpan and did what had to be done and slung that poor thing as far towards the railroad tracks behind the hen house as I could.

Then I went to the river with Lily and her kids and thank god for the river and why I don't live on the river is pretty much a mystery to me but then again, most things are. Owen is now jumping off the rope which means he's definitely a big kid.

As always, it was an interesting assortment of people there today and I felt severely under-tattooed. We kept hearing something bellow and I am not sure if it was a gator or a big ol' bullfrog but one woman who was about to take off in her kayak assured me that it was, in fact, a bird which I do not believe for one second. Bird's larynx's are just not built like that. 
I mean, she could have been right but she looked like a Yankee and I don't think she knew what she was talking about.
"I don't think so," I said to her.
"It is," she said, with all of the self-confidence of an ornithologist. "Although there are gators here."
"No shit, Sherlock," I said, and pushed her kayak over with my old southern lady arms which are stronger than you'd think.
Not really. I did not say that or do that. 
But I wanted to. 

Anyway, here's what Miss Magnolia, aka Little Woman, aka Little Mama, aka Little Queenie looked like in her bathing costume. 

"Honey," I told her when her mama was changing her back into her clothes when we were leaving, "You have reached the apex of cuteness."
And I swear, she has. That precious little body is perfect in all regards and in all ways and I don't know why we ever put clothes on her. 

So that was great fun and I am not going to say one damn thing about the Dick Tator and his speech to the Boy Scouts nor am I going to say anything about the Republican lawmakers, no, I am not (they suck donkey dicks and I am so scared and filled with anger and some of it is righteous and some of it is merely pure, red-hot-may-they-burn-in-hell anger) and I am right back where I started this morning when I found that rat in my hallway. How can there be a rat in the hallway? What am I going to do about it? How can there be a Trump in my White House and what am I going to do about it? and so forth. 

Wish I could just sweep him up and sling/fling him into the bushes for the foxes and coyotes and ants to eat but I can't and Maurice, as much as she'd like to please me, cannot kill him. 

More's the pity.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I have far more sympathy for the dead rat than I would have for Trump if someone found him stiff and cold on the floor one morning. If only Maurice COULD take care of him for us....sigh.

    I hope you sleep well and feel better tomorrow.

  2. I did not watch one moment of the news today. I couldn't. Sometimes it feels hopeless to me though I know I cannot afford that mindset. As for Maggie, she us only going to get cuter and more darling as the years go by. She is a force of nature. That much is already evident. I hope there will be no gift from Maurice tomorrow and that the day dawns gentle for you. Love you.

  3. Sittin' here at the birth center after a lovely daytime birth and your blog is so sweet and funny and right on. We have a brand new baby boy in the other room and his momma pushed him out with a big heave ho and dad cried and we all cheered.

    Donald can kiss my yankee ass, btw.

  4. Today has been one of the tougher ones in this hellacious alternative universe we've all landed in. 45 can kiss my Yankee ass as well. And Maurice meant well - did you thank her ;)

  5. "She looked like a Yankee." That sentence made me laugh.

    I'm pretty sure you offended Maurice by throwing the rat away. Hell hath no fury like a cat scorned. I would watch your back and sleep with one eye open.

  6. I have far more sympathy for the dead rat than I would have for Trump if someone found him stiff and cold on the floor one morning. If only Maurice COULD take care of him for us....sigh.

    I hope you sleep well and feel better tomorrow.

  7. My Grandson and Granddaughter were at the Jamboree, they were sickened by his remarks, but appalled that other scouts were loving the speech...

  8. I hope the darkness has passed. Some days it's a wicked and hellish prison being stuck with a human brain. But then there's this Pink Princess who, I agree has reached the absolute apex of cuteness!

  9. That baby girl is perfect, OMG! What a lovely little child - she will grow strong with attitude - she has a Mer Mer to guide her into a stand up female, god knows she will need all of the chutzpah she can muster. There has been a level of anxiety nationally that seems to keep us all off balance, there is so much anger, confusion, disbelief, in my thoughts are always things like gassing the entire house , senate and all involved...or dropping lsd in their water supply, a bit of god to give them the perspective they so sorely need.

  10. Poor Maurice, just trying to provide for you! :) Seriously, I could see how that would gross you out. Yeesh.

    Thank goodness for the river and for Miss Maggie!

  11. artist formerly known as MagnumJuly 26, 2017 at 1:01 PM

    Having carried the cat into a cafe, for croissants and Cheerwine duh, I notice the black limos outside. Instantly the cat is out of my grasp...a loud kerfuffle and then the ground shakes with a primordial splat!
    AWWW meow meow! Maurice!
    The flap of "blond" a shroud now. We're gonna need a bigger dustpan.

  12. Maybe the Trump in the Whitehouse will also be found dead underneath the thermostat sooner rather than later. A cheering thought.

  13. I wish I lived on the river. I've decided that I live during the demise of the great american democracy experiment. If the Republicans were the sort to put country over party I think we would survive even 4 years of that fat fuck but I think most of them, if not all, are really russian sleeper agents and the plan is being fulfilled to bring this country down. I wouldn't mind not being top dog if these people weren't so determined to drag us back to the dark ages.

  14. Some Things Even The River Can't Cure. I woke up this morning and went to the hallway to turn the thermostat up and lying beneath it on the ...


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