And Then...

Oh guys. I know you must be so tired of my daily wah-wahs and up-to-the-minute health reports although quite frankly they’re probably as interesting as anything I’ve written since the pandemic began or maybe before. 

My material is a little slim these days although I have plenty to say about “The Office” if you’d like to hear it. 

Any hands? You! There in the back! Do YOU want to bear about Jan’s breast implants or Ryan’s promotion or the quintessentially creepy romance between Angela and Dwight?

No? 

Okay. Well then. 

Moving on. 

I seem to be detecting a pattern in my days of healing which consists of one pretty darn good day followed by a ho-hum  one. Today was a ho-hum one. Nothing bad. Not too much pain. I just got worn out quickly. I did a few kitchen things this morning. I scrubbed a sink and made Mr. Moon a sandwich to take into town with him. He had some office work to do. And honestly- not much more than that. Jessie came out with a gorgeous shepherd’s pie that we can bake and a few more birthday treaties including a large bottle of my favorite beer (or is it an ale?), the aptly named Fin du Monde which means end of the world. 

The boys stayed in their car seats and Levon was asleep when they got here so I visited with August and kissed his toe. They actually left but a few minutes later they came back because Levon woke up and was so sad that he hadn’t seen me so I went back outside and kissed his toe and had a conversation with him and gave out chocolate. 

Jessie and I got to talk a little bit but not nearly enough. 

Still, it was great to see them. 

Then Maurice and I watched some more Office or at least I did. She napped mostly and growled whenever I had the audacity to move. 

She’s not JUST the night nurse, you know. 

And then I got a call from a guy at Computer Doctor where they were transferring my files to the new MacBook. He said all was going well but it would not be finished by five and they’re not open on Saturdays and so guess who’s writing this on her phone?

Besides that, I just did not make the right purchase. I went for the smallest, least expensive MacBook available and it is really quite small both in screen size and in storage size and it turns out that one can return an Apple product within 14 days of delivery or, actually 45 days now due to Covid, and I am going to do that and be an entitled bitch and go for a bigger one. With more storage. 

I called Apple and this time I spoke to an extremely nice guy named Michael who was in South Texas and I’ve already gotten an email with the mailing labels to return the one I bought. 

I have to say that Apple’s customer support is and always has been top notch in my experience. Tech support too. 

So. That. 

Guess what else I did today? 

I made hummingbird nectar and put it in the clean feeder and very, very carefully hung it. It was strange, recreating the same exact actions which led to a very defining line between before and after in my little life.  

So no pictures today or in the foreseeable future either. 

I sure hope nothing of incredible photographic importance happens between now and whenever it is that I get my new, NEW MacBook. 

Keep hunkering down, y’all. This thing’s butt is far from kicked. 

Happy Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Maurice The Nurse, Plus Other Things

So, as you can see, I got a package from Fed Ex this afternoon. 

 And that is the coconut cake that Mr. Moon made for me. Is it not glorious? It tastes even better than it looks, believe it or not. 

You know what else is glorious? 

NOT HAVING TO TYPE A BLOG POST ON MY PHONE! 

I mean, seriously. 

Also, being able to post pictures. 

I'm sort of half-assing it here because I haven't had all my familiars transferred from my old MacBook to this one but I've figured out enough to check my email and Facebook and other blogs and okay, yeah, go to Youtube and watch one of my favorite videos of all times which I may repost here for your viewing pleasure even though I've posted it, uh, several times before. I say "may" because suddenly I've been thrown into new Blogger and I'm just trying to figure that out. So far, sorta good. 

So. Last night was rather extraordinary and no, it wasn't the drugs because I only took Ibuprofen. But Maurice slept with me all night long which isn't that odd because The Chair is her territory as I may have said before. But she was so attentive. It seemed to me that she sat closest to where my pain was and she spent a lot of time grooming my hand, licking it until I thought she'd sandpaper the skin off. That could have been annoying but it was more comforting to me. Another thing she did was when I was doing a little deep breathing because I had a small muscle spasm (I guess) she got right up in my face, put her mouth on my chin and held it there until I quit breathing like that. It was like she was not having that at all. I quit with the Lamaze breathing and she settled back down. And then, another time I stirred and woke up and she immediately got up and again got in my face and this time she kissed me on the lips. Which she has done before but not for a very long time. Right on the lips. 

Cat lips are quite thin. Have you ever noticed that? 

So she was my comfort all night long, my nurse cat. This scrappy, scabbed-up slip of a cat whom Maggie calls "Scratch" because she'll scratch a human as fast as she'll go for a flea, took care of one of her humans and it was so nice to feel her caring in the darkness. 

And hey- she might not have cared a bit about me. She might have just been- I don't know- what? Restless and being bossy? Whatever, I appreciated her and when I woke up this morning I felt much better. 

In fact, it's been almost miraculous how much better I've felt both in body and in spirit, especially as the day has progressed. And I'm sure that getting this new beautiful toy and tool has helped tremendously. 

I always love opening an Apple product. The wrappings are as elegant as the machine itself. Works of art in their own way. Once you get it out of the Fed Ex box there are definitely no cutting tools required. A tab here slips off a protective sleeve. The box it's in has a place for each component to nestle perfectly. 

Beautiful engineering of the simplest sort. 

And then, you lift the cover and there you go- the Apple appears, the MacBook awakes, and in a few seconds you are led through the setting-up process. 

Now. Let me admit right here that I had to call tech support. I could not get the trackpad to respond to my taps. Just couldn't do it. I got stuck on the page where I had to select my country. And I was frustrated. So I called the number and got put on hold, of course, but finally someone named Shaun or Shawn or whatever answered and he was a jewel and I told him that yes, I was old, and also that I'd been using Macs since the Performa which was the worst Mac ever made, I'm sure, and he didn't even laugh at me and he didn't laugh when I had to give him my e-mail address which is at aol and he assured me that he still gets people who have hotmail. 

And here's what the problem was and he didn't laugh at me when I figured it out- I was not tapping on the trackpad properly. You can change how you want your trackpad to respond and to what sort of touch and the way it comes from the factory is quite different than the way I'd had my old one set up. It wanted a mash-in-the-middle rather than a quick tap. 

So once I figured that out all went swimmingly and here I am. 

I wasn't even that embarrassed. I mean- I was just so happy to get it up and working. 

There are so many new features on this thing and of course I don't have a clue about most of them and will never USE most of them but we are so fixated on bigger and better, aren't we? 

I asked the tech where in the country he was and he told me California. I asked him how things were there and he went into a very long speech about wearing masks and staying home. As in- why isn't everyone doing those things? I wanted to say, "You're preaching to the choir here, boy!" but I just told him that being from Florida I felt his pain. 

And I do. 

I see that Herman Cain has died from Covid and was diagnosed less than two weeks after attending Trump's Tulsa rally. He had tweeted that masks would not be required at the July 4th Mount Rushmore event, going so far as to say, "People are fed up!"

So. 

Yeah. 

And I also see that Trump is testing the waters on the idea that the election should be postponed. 

Well, we knew that would happen. 

I haven't listened to Obama's eulogy for John Lewis but I will. We were so incredibly fortunate to have that man as our president for two terms. It seems like a dream now, doesn't it? As this year just gets harder and weirder and more fucked up, it's almost impossible to believe that less than four years ago things were so completely different. 

All right. I've written too much already. And I've hit a wall and need to go crawl back into my nest. 

Here's another picture. 

See those beautiful cocoa-dark eggs? And the little greenish one in front? It's hard to tell but it's quite small. It's not unusual at all for a hen to lay smaller eggs at first. 

Which I am quite certain the young ladies appreciate. As best they can, anyway. 

ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH! 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. There is nothing about this video I do not love. 

Another Teary Day

I could not get to sleep last night until after one which was weird because I was most definitely tired. I just laid there in The Chair in the dark, pondering stuff, breathing, doing my little alphabet games in my head which often help bring on sleep. 

Nope. 

When I finally did drop off I slept until it was just breaking dawn and I laid there for a few minutes, trying to change position to get more comfortable and then I fell back asleep and stayed there until nine or so. 

I had rather horrible dreams which I am sure were pandemic-based and when I got up I did not feel the way I had hoped to feel which was even better than the day before. My ribs hurt more, my energy was low and so were my spirits. 

I talked to Lis though and Glen went to the post office and brought home the box of presents that sweet woman had sent to me and by the time I was finished unwrapping them all I was sobbing.

Not weeping. Sobbing. 

Everything she sent me was perfect and beautiful and exquisite. Just like Lis. A Johnny Was blouse. A pair of the daintiest pearl and crystal earrings. A bar of soap that smells of the sea and seaweed. A jar of blue cheese olives in vermouth. A blue shawl. Which is what broke me. I held it close to myself and lost it. It is too much for me to bear. It made me feel so covered in love. 

I’m crying again. 

I texted her and told her that I could not possibly talk to her because I was too emotional. I could not have gotten a word out. 

For this past week I’ve felt so broken and useless and haggish and the opposite of everything those magical gifts represented and they seem like totems of promise that I won’t always feel this way. 

I added the shawl to my nest of pillows and covers and slipped the earrings into my ears.

I can’t even say how much I love that woman. 

I watered the porch plants. That was my biggest accomplishment. I’ve waited since this morning for the arrival of my MacBook because I got a notice telling me it would be here today. 

No MacBook has arrived. 

But Rachel did. She brought us a beautiful Mediterranean vegetarian family meal from a restaurant in Tallahassee. Falafel and hummus and rice and grape leaves and chick pea salad and pita. It’s going to taste so good to me. 

I cried when she left. 

I’m a mess. 

I finally looked again at the hematoma on the back of my leg and it is horrifying. Mr. Moon says the area of my ribs is bruised up real good now too. 

My sweet husband has blanched and vacuum-sealed all the field peas he has picked and shelled today and put them in the freezer. He is more than amazing. It is so weird to watch him do all these things that I think of as mine to do. And uncomfortable. 

I have to keep remembering that I did indeed injure myself quite seriously and that healing is my job now. Not sweeping or cooking or weeding or picking the garden or doing laundry or shopping or walking or any of those things. It is simply to be here now and to heal. 

Sigh. 

I cannot deal with any more of the news beyond a quick scan of what’s going on. It’s all so dire and horrific and sad and frightening. And to put the cherry on top of the cowgirl, we may be in the path of what may become a hurricane. 

Who among us can not nod their head and say, “Yep. That sounds about right”?

Netflix reminded me this morning to make sure to finish watching The Office! They’re so thoughtful. And helpful. I’ve been doing my best. 

As are we all, I am sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

So This Is What Sixty Six Feels Like, Huh?

Actually I’ve felt so much better today. Well, I did. The pain is definitely less. And this morning I felt a bit more energetic and of course I did a few things I should not have done and now I’m pretty tired but that’s okay. There is reason to hope for improvement for sure.

Precedent, you might say. 

And now I have clean pillowcases and blankets. 

It’s been a lovely birthday, considering. My best friend from 6th grade called and we had a lovely chat and I actually laughed and it didn’t hurt. I talked to one of my brothers that I haven’t talked to in a long time and that was very fine. My good friend Harvey gave me a call too and it was great to hear his voice. 

And Lon and Lis called and sang me Happy Birthday which is the sweetest rendition of Happy Birthday on earth. 

I’ve gotten cards and texts and FB love and Hank and Rachel came out for a little masked visit. We even went out and picked a few things from the garden. 

Another one of the new hens gave us an egg. This one is almost cocoa brown. A work of art!

And it’s been drizzling all day which I love. 

Speaking of works of art- the cake! It’s so pretty! I can’t wait to taste it. 

And so, despite global pandemic and broken ribs, I’ve had so many reasons to celebrate, to be cheerful and actually happy. And I am. Hell, I even got to see the episode on The Office where Jim kissed Pam. 

I almost lost it. I had to get up and go find my husband and kiss him. 

I cannot complain and I will not complain. I probably will tomorrow but certainly not today. 

I am thinking of those pictures on the internets of famous models and movie stars who wear bikinis on beautiful beaches where the headline is always something like, “And This Is What Sixty Looks Like!” and I sort of want to die and I sort of want to puke but as I told Mary Lane today I think one of the most painful things in the world would be vomiting with broken ribs and I do not really want to die yet so I’ll just let the Cindy Crawford’s and the Elizabeth Hurleys of the world continue with their diets and Pilates and plastic surgeries and fillers and Botox and all of the things that make them so fine and I will be completely content with being able to laugh without pain, to be able to sleep comfortably, to eat my coconut cake, to love my babies and be loved by them, and to know that eventually I will be strong and well again. 

I am a lucky woman. A lucky, sixty-six year old woman. 

Thank you for being part of my world. My lucky world. 

Love...Ms. Moon

If I Could Show You Pictures

Things are not getting better fast here, y’all. 

This is a process. 

Duh. 

It’s really strange what you find online about broken ribs. Everything from “some people may need pain relief” to “it’s been said that the pain of broken ribs is second only to that of a kidney stone.”

As a woman who has had four natural, very long labors AND a kidney stone I can say that broken ribs are less painful than those but it ain’t no picnic. 

To add to the general suckalisciousness of it all, I had a full-on anxiety attack last night. For those of you who have experienced these you know what I’m talking about. For those of you who haven’t, I am not up to trying to describe that particular hell. At least I knew what it was but that is rather useless information when you’re going through one. 

It took me a long time to get to sleep and when I got up this morning I didn’t even feel capable of commenting on blogs. I’m sorry. 

I did walk out to the hen house to find three beautiful new eggs from one of the young hens. They are a lovely deep brown and I know there will be more eggs of different colors to follow. 

So if I could include pictures here I would definitely post one of those three eggs. Also, some of the roses which are having a second bloom and surely a picture of at least one of the deep purple-black eggplants. I wish we called them “aubergines” because that word is so much more beautiful than “eggplant”. 

I would probably also post a picture of my chair nest where I have watched approximately fifty episodes of “The Office” today because that’s about all I can concentrate on and if I can’t concentrate on it it doesn’t matter. 

BTW- I love Jim but he’s a damn wussy. 

Now here’s a picture I wish you could see- Mr. Moon making a fresh coconut cake for my birthday. 

The kitchen will never be the same. 

The first year we were together he made me the most spectacular coconut cake and he is determined to repeat that this year. I was turning thirty the first time he made me a cake. I am turning 66 tomorrow. 

These facts make me cry. The fact that he’s making me a cake and the fact that he’s loved me for thirty-six years. 

We had a hell of a party the year I turned thirty. A HELL of a party. And that was also when he proposed to me. 

All right. I can’t get too deep into that memory or I will become completely overwhelmed. There were people there whom I loved who are no longer here. I’ll just say that. 

And that it was a long time ago. 

And it was an amazing cake. I’m sure this one will be too. A shopping trip was needed for all the ingredients. He got the good stuff. King Arthur cake flour! Unsalted butter! I don’t even know what all. He doesn’t want me in there. 

I will definitely take a picture of the cake and if I ever get my MacBook I’ll post it then. Still have heard no word from Apple about shipping. It really would be a spirit-lifting thing for me to finally take procession of that. 

Any more pictures? Oh, maybe one of the beautiful rain we had today. Perhaps a picture of Dottie and Dearie. The little one is getting bigger. Glen says that when she flies out of the little coop now her wings thrum like a quail’s. 

And one of Tweety Bird who is still not as big as a blue jay and never will be. I can’t wait to see her eggs! 

That’s enough. I’m tired. Please know that if I don’t comment on your posts it doesn’t mean I’m not reading them because I am. Same with answering comments. 

I’m doing what I can do. Which ain’t a lot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Tiny Walk In The Garden

Sleeping in the Glen Den is so strange. First of all, the chair reminds me of a hospital bed although it is far more comfortable. It’s beautiful once I get everything arranged and settle in just right with pillows and covers but during my sleep and especially when I get up, all of my sleep-objects get scattered and wadded up and it’s generally when my pain meds have worn off that I wake up so getting everything reasonably rearranged can be a struggle. And a pain. 

But honestly, the weirdest part of sleeping in there is just being in that room which has never represented sleep for me and somehow has a completely different spirit feeling if I am allowed to say that. The bedroom we sleep in now is not part of the original structure and thus the Glen Den is older and in the deep dark night I can feel the difference. When I awaken, it’s not the TV and the toys and the deer heads and Mr. Moon’s collections of beer steins and other stuff that I feel. It’s something entirely different and of a different time. 

Or it could be the drugs, you know. 

Maurice sleeps with me in that chair and she is so light, especially compared to Jack that she feels weightless and she is a comfort although last night she made a sound with her breathing that was way too much like a distressed human child. 

That cat. 

My pain has been less today and this morning I made a little stroll out to the garden just to look around. I miss the garden. That and folding some clothes were the most exciting things I did today. The rest of the day has been mostly spent in the chair watching The Office. Even though I’m in less pain, I have a definite persistent tiredness. I suppose that’s normal as my body is trying to reconstruct parts of itself but it’s hard not to just feel like I’m being lazy. 

My husband is doing it all. He is cooking and doing laundry and today he even cleaned the hen house. For breakfast he cooked eggs with peppers and onions and garlic! Gourmet! I am so impressed and also, at the same time, afraid that he will soon be better than I am at the household things and will decide that he does not need me. 

Yes. I am insecure. 

I got a text from Billy this afternoon asking if they could come drop off some things and of course I said yes. They brought delicious treaties as August would say- crackers and chocolate and salmon dip and honey and cheese made from the milk of barn-free cows! And Waylon made me a beautiful mermaid drawing. We chatted for just a minute, them outside wearing masks and us in the doorway. I asked Shayla about the plan for teaching this year and it still hasn’t been quite decided or finalized. 

This is all so hard. 

Anyway, we go on. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel up to doing a little cooking. Or something. I am looking forward to that. And sleeping in my bed and going to let my chickens out in the morning and counting them and watching them as they peck and scratch at their corn. 

 But I don’t need to rush. It’s only been four days. 

Here’s another thing I am looking forward to- having something to talk about beyond broken ribs and related topics. And having an actual computer. I don’t think my new MacBook has even shipped. 

Sigh. 

Well, it will one of these days. 

Please be well, y’all. In every way. The world may be falling apart but we need to try and survive it the best we can to bear witness if nothing else. And speaking of survivors- it is Mick Jagger’s 77th birthday today. 

Gold rings on him as his band wife Keith would say. 

May he dance forever. 

And may the spirit of John Lewis watch over this crazy country. We need him so. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What’s Happening Out There In The World?

I thought my world was tiny before this whole rib thing but it has now narrowed to the smallest pinhole of a peephole. 

I guess pain will do that. 

Last night was another nightmare and I realized that I have to sleep in Mr. Moon’s chair. The bed is just too hard to move in and get out of. I did sleep in it for a few hours but when I woke up I needed to get up and pee and take more medication and I swear- it took at least twenty minute to slowly glacier my way out. My muscles had all frozen up and the pain in my ribs screamed. When I finally got free I walked around for a little while, and then resettled in The Chair and that was much better. 

I am not telling you any of this for sympathy. This is just what happens when you injure yourself. I keep thinking about how lucky I am, really. The only times in my life I’ve really experienced pain are when I had a kidney stone, when I broke my wrist, and in childbirth. 

So I’m due. And knowing why I’m in pain really does help somehow. There’s a reason. I will heal. It will end. 

I got a great email from an old friend who had broken her rib awhile back. In it she advised me to spend most of my time 

Including nights in a comfortable reclining chair for the next few weeks, to binge watch something but not too funny because laughing hurts, to not be afraid to take the drugs, to take a laxative, to let people wait on me, to just get comfortable and heal. 

And that sounds like the perfect advice from one who has been there. It really does help. 

Mr. Moon is being so good. He is absolutely waiting on me and is going to have learned a little about cooking before this is all over. Last night he fixed us up a frozen pizza with extra vegetables and it was amazing. I had hardly eaten all day and for some reason that pizza was perfect. He’s smoked a pork loin today big enough to serve twenty and is going to cook some green beans and potatoes to go with it. We will not starve but it’s hard for me to let him take on these chores. It is not the usual order of things but I am learning. It is okay to ask for help and just because I could do something does not mean I should. 

Jessie was working today and Vergil brought August and Levon out for a little socially distant visit. They also brought me a vase full of Jessie’s gorgeous zinnias. Purples and reds and oranges and yellows and magentas. As cheerful and colorful as a brand new box of crayons. It was so good to see them. August discussed how he wants Boppy to get him a real screwdriver that will screw real screws so that he can help to rebuild the play set that the tree took out last year. All of this “When this coronavirus is over.”

He’s been saying lately that he wants us to adopt him. I feel certain that what this means to him is that he could come and stay for endless days of TV and treaties and all of our attention. Glen said that he brought that up a few times when they were out picking beans together. And what his grandfather said was perfect. He told August that we don’t have to adopt him. That he is already our son. Our GRAND son and that he can come and stay with us always as long as we are here. 

After “this corona virus.”

I was a bit weepy today. I told Glen that it reminded me of how midwives always say that on the third day after the baby arrives, the milk and tears both come in. I had an accident, not a baby, and no milk has come in, of course (that would be so wrong) but the tears have. I’m not crying for any specific reason, just the overwhelming emotion of it all. 

Okay- here’s something so sweet- Mr. Moon just asked me if he needs to feed the sourdough starter. 

I’m a lucky woman. 

But I’ll tell you something that is going to have to be attended to and SOON- if I don’t get at least a foot of my hair cut off I am going to lose my mind. 

I bet my husband can do that too. He can do anything. 

I’m not being good at all about answering comments right now but trust me when I say that they’ve never meant more to me. 

Real True Love...Ms. Moon

Nope. Not A Dream

Due to an increased pain situation last night I caved this morning and called my doctor’s office. They sent me to get x rays and a few hours later my sweet doctor called me and said, “You did it! You really did it!” 

Long story short I broke four ribs. I knew it was more than one. Hell, I can feel them shifting. 

But- nothing to be done unless one of several dire scenarios occur at which case I should go to the hospital. 

Dr. Z was so kind. He kept saying, “I’m so sorry this happened to you!”

I’m pretty sure he meant it. 

And that’s about all I have the energy to write tonight. I’m glad I went and got checked out because now I know why and where the pain is coming from for sure and now I will be even more careful to rest and heal. I keep thinking of things I should do. Could do. Really! 

And then I’m just letting them go.

Mr. Moon will take care of me and the doctor prescribed me some pain pills. I’m spending a lot of time in his chair. 

Thank all of you for your kind words. They are helping me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Like A Dream But Not An Especially Good One

After things had calmed down last night and I was learning the limitations of my movements, I realized that the top back of my leg hurt pretty bad. I reached down to find a hematoma lump the size of Levon’s head there and no wonder it hurt. Nothing’s broken there but it says a lot that I hadn’t even realized I’d hit on that part of my body too. 

Bed was a struggle. It was not easy to find a comfortable position and getting in and out and even changing position was agonizing. But with Ibuprofen I did manage to sleep and woke up this morning in a little less pain. As I texted the kids- I didn’t have to muffle my screams of pain once so...winning. 

The fact is that I did truly injure myself and it’s going to take some time to recover. And I am going to have to walk the fine line of being too sedentary and trying to do too much. This probably means no bean picking or chicken coop cleaning or laundry carrying or the throwing about of iron skillets for awhile. 

I spent a lot of time today in Mr. Moon’s chair with many pillows and Maurice. The man went to the Hilltop and got us a lunch and that was amazing. Fried shrimp sandwiches and potato salad. It’s been forever since we’ve eaten anything like that. And then I went to bed and slept for two hours. 

While I was asleep Rachel dropped off enough food for us to eat for a week. An entire roast chicken with potatoes and carrots, Parmesan and garlic spinach, cheese grits and brownies. And a card. And flowers. 

I could have wept with gratitude. 

It’s been raining on and off all day. Pressure systems and possible storms appear to be surrounding us from all the seas and oceans and it is that time of year. Do I even need to say that the hurricane lilies will be popping up in a few weeks?

In chicken news, when Mr. moon went out to help Dearie into the baby coop last night she had already flown in herself and this morning she flew out by herself. 

She is growing up! 

Sniff. 

It is still drizzling. I am sure the beans are way overdue for picking and I don’t even feel up to sitting and shelling field peas. I have to remember that’s okay. My job right now is to breathe and rest. It’s hard but a good reminder that the world moves on with or without my active participation. 

We will eat some of Rachel’s delicious dinner. I will be grateful. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, Hell

Yes, the AC is fixed and running like a sweet cool top and for that I am so grateful but I’ve got something else on my mind which is sort of taking precedence. 

It had been a pretty good day. We met the mother-daughters at the river and although it was pretty crowded we did our best to social distance and enjoy the time but people were just so heedless that Mr. Moon and I finally just packed up and came home. I fixed up some old work shorts of Glen’s with a new button and a patch and snapped some beans. I unloaded the dishwasher where I’d put the hummingbird feeder and I made up some fresh nectar and was headed out the door to hang it in the back yard. We’d just had a tremendous rain and I put on my back porch Crocs which are really sort of dangerous shoes and while going down the steps my feet slid right out from under me. I hit the steps hard and just sat there stunned for a moment, knowing I’d done something serious. I gathered my wits and my breath and carefully stood up and walked over and hung the feeder. 

My diagnosis is that I’ve busted a rib. I hit hard on my right side on my back and from what I’ve read that’s probably what I did. It feels sorta funky. 

Drs. Google  all seem to say that there’s not a damn thing you can do for a broken rib. I can take deep breaths although there is a little pain at the site when I do. I am not vomiting. Moving and twisting are tricky. I’ll be taking it easy for awhile. I’d already prepped some supper and it was going to be awesome. Pork chops with cherries, figs, and peaches. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Whenever I have injured myself before, I’ve been very aware of the endogenous opioids that my brain releases and I’ve got a nice little buzz going right now. 

And there’s a hummingbird at the feeder. 

Please don’t tell me to go to the doctor. I will if things change. My husband is being most caring and attentive and my children are all texting me with love and concern. Arnica has been applied. 

Right now Tallahassee is a hot spot for the virus and I’d just as soon not add that sort of exposure to my worries. 

Gonna be an interesting night. But I’ll be cool!

Watch your steps, y’all. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

How Did They Do It?

Honestly, the heat hasn’t been that bad. 

Not as long as all I do is to literally sit in front of a fan. If I get up and try to do something it’s fairly horrible. 

Last night after supper Mr. Moon drove to town and retrieved a portable free-standing air conditioning unit that he remembered had been left behind in the bank building we own after the tenant left. 

We were to be saved!

The thing looked almost brand new. It weighed a thousand pounds but my husband somehow got it into our house, into our room and vented it out a window and plugged it in. It is an LG and as their appliances do when you start them, it sang a cheerful little tune and began to chug away. 

Ah lah! Hurrah! 

And then it and all of the lights on that particular circuit died. 

The man spent a good hour trying to figure out a remedy for this problem with different outlets and industrial extension cords and even a call to Vergil who knows a great deal about electricity. 

Alas. It was not to be. 

By this time we were both soaking wet with sweat and - dare I say it? - a bit irritated. 

Okay. We were in a foul mood. 

I took a tepid shower and laid on the bed with two fans on me including the one that would power a small aircraft and it wasn’t bad. And I really slept fine. 

My husband, however, did not. He reported tossing and turning and feeling tortured all night long and he was not in a great mood this morning. 

He had to go into the office which was probably a blessing because of course they have AC. I got my bean picking done early and was sweaty as a nasty little beast by the time that was over. Then I ate my breakfast and went to the dump and paid our water bill and stopped at the post office where I ran into a neighbor. 

“How are you?” she asked and I said, “Fine except that our AC...”

That was as far as I needed to get. 

“Oh no!” she said. 

“Yep,” I said. 

We commiserated and I said, “How did they used to stand it?”

“How did the slaves do it?” she asked. “How did they work in the fields?”

We didn’t know. We do not know. We will never know. 

I got a few things done around here today but not much. Even making the bed felt like a grand achievement. As I said yesterday- we are so spoiled. I finally settled on the couch (with a fan on me) and shelled peas and watched “Indian Matchmaker” which is a series about yes, an Indian matchmaker. She is from Bombay (I think) but she has clients in the US too. It’s the perfect show to watch while shelling peas. It turns out that Indian matchmakers have resources which American matchmakers do not. Astrologists are important because if two people have clashing signs, don’t even go there. Also, face readers who can predict what sort of a marriage partner a person will be by simply studying a photo. This particular matchmaker also utilizes a life coach for a client if needed to straighten out a particular problem blocking the way to marital bliss. BUT she also has to deal with mothers. Especially mothers of sons. One mother is so daunting about when she wants her son to be married despite the prospect of an actual bride (the wedding will be in December!) and how a prospective daughter-in-law will behave (this is my house and she will follow our practices!) that I can’t imagine anyone agreeing to marry the son who states on camera that he is looking for a girl just like his mother. 

Arrrgghhh!

And sometimes one has to wonder if the matchmaker should be seeking a partner of the same gender as a client but I don’t think that would go over well, especially for her clients in India. 

And so it’s an interesting show for someone as shallow as I am and I find myself wondering what astrologists and face readers and even life coaches would say about Mr. Moon and I as a couple. 

He is home and still a little out of sorts but he’s cut up a watermelon and proclaimed that he will be sleeping upstairs tonight. I’m making a salad for our supper. It will be fine. Perhaps tomorrow the new compressor will be in (inshallah) and the sky is turning dark and the breeze has kicked up and thunder has rumbled quite nearby. To get rain would be such a blessed relief. 

I feel certain that I am not the first woman living in this house to have that thought. 

Thank you for visiting. I really do mean that, you know. 

See you tomorrow when hopefully it will be cooler. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Does Not Bode Well

Last night we noticed that the temperature in the house was three degrees warmer than the thermostat was set for. 

“Hmmmm,” we said. 

This had been normal when we had our old air conditioner but since we’ve had the new one that has not happened. 

We decided that it had just been a very hot day and it had been. Upper 90’s. By morning it was all nicely cooled off. We had to go to town to take the red car to the mechanic for its inspection and then to the Credit Union where Mr. Moon has his office and where his car was. 

The drive to the mechanic’s and back to the Credit Union took us through parts of Tallahassee I had not traveled in years but which, when I went to FSU’s nursing school and Hank and May were in daycare, I traveled many, many times. So many memories and my god- so much has changed. 

After I dropped my husband off I went to Costco and Publix and while I was there I got a text from my husband asking if I was still in town and could I come back to the Credit Union to sign some documents and I started stressing out because I had hit my limit and hit it hard when it came to being out among people. 

But back to the Credit Union I went and then finally HOME and when I walked in the door I realized that it felt warm. I checked the thermostat and although it said that it was cooling it was lying. The fan part was on but the air coming through the vents was just air. I came out to the back porch which the unit is right beside and it was not doing a thing. Silent as a nun in prayer. 

As I texted to my husband- “Shit, shit, shit.”

I won’t continue to go into minute detail at this point. I will only say that a repairman did come and after checking things out he announced and showed me that we had a burnt out compressor which I understand is a very important part of the air conditioning process. 

It could have been caused by lightening or a power surge or, or, or...

And the soonest that they can get a new one is Wednesday. 

This is somewhat of a nightmare. 

It’s supposed to get down to 75 degrees here by 6:00 am but back up to 80 by 9:00 am and then on to the breathless and horrid nineties soon after. 

Sigh. We are so spoiled. 

I am hoping that with fans we will be able to sleep. Actually, Mr. Moon may sleep upstairs as the two bedrooms up there have window units but I do not want to sleep upstairs in a twin bed. I want to sleep downstairs in my own bed. 

I am weird that way. If it gets too hot though, I’ll trudge up that long winding staircase. There have been nights in my life which were so hot that I cried. I remember these nights with startling clarity even though I was a child for most of them. Of course this house was built for hot summers with its high, high ceilings and the long hallway. One does not sleep in the hallway however. I think if we open doors and windows tonight and close them in the morning we will be fine. 

Or, survive at least. 

I tell you what though- I am NOT going to do a damn thing that I don’t have to in the next two days that would raise my body temperature. No way. I am going to move slowly and I am not going to move much. I am also not going to wear much. 

Jumping in the river may be involved. I hope so. 

Things come in threes, or so they say. As of right now, the MacBook and the air conditioning are out of commission. I am not superstitious but I do not want to tempt fate by saying this. And yet- here we are. 

I’ll keep you updated. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Gluten Tolerance

Thank god that the pandemic has magically helped us all with our gluten intolerance problems. I’m pretty sure that it hasn’t done anything for actual celiac disease but the avoidance of gluten appears to be on the wane. 

I was having these thoughts this morning as I was making pancakes for my man (apple, peach, pecan) and started toting up all of the bread products I have in the house. There were the pancakes, the naan I made to go with last night’s supper, the banana bread I made last week, the loaf of sourdough I had rising and, just in case we ran out of wheat related products- half a loaf of Killer Dave’s bread in the refrigerator. 

This is not counting the crackers. 

Hoo-boy. 

A Sunday. I woke up cranky. I’d had a dream where I was about to start 9th grade and then I realized that no, I really did not need to do that because I’d graduated from high school quite a long time ago. It was a relief to just walk out of that school. The crankiness came after I realized I was going to have to get a job to support myself and had no skills. Not that 9th grade was going to provide any of those. 

  

But you know- life. I got up and made those pancakes and tended my chickens and when I reached into the little coop to help Dearie out she fluttered right into my hand and I kissed her little head and set her down by her chirping mama and they were off to do chicken things. It’s just about time for that little one to figure out how to get in and out of the baby coop herself. 

A friend of ours whose car was totaled last week through no fault of her own was scheduled to come over to look at and drive my old Prius. Mr. Moon offered it to her because he knows it’s a good car and he loves to put people he cares about in good cars. So I had to clean out the red Prius and put my stuff in the white Prius and my husband said, “This one isn’t as big as your old one,” and as I put the kid booster seat that I’d bought for Gibson years ago into the car I said, “Who cares? My grandchildren will probably never get to ride in a car with me again,” and I teared up a little, thinking of how thrilling it was for August to sit in that booster seat and drive the two blocks to the dump with me and then to stop at the Post Office. 

Dammit! If the Orange Dong had been half a leader and listened to the scientists and doctors and enacted the recommendations they were making back in Fucking February we might be over this shit. 

But no. 

No, no, no. 

Anyway, our friend fell in love with the car. I think it will soon be hers unless the mechanic’s inspection reveals something untoward. I am so glad she’s going to get it and love it. I can’t think of one darn thing about that car that wasn’t absolutely lovely. As is our friend. 

It was so good to see her. 

And the rest of the day has been fine. Bean picking, crossword puzzle doing,  clothes washing, and other stuff. I’ve picked an eggplant and a bell pepper to go into a sauce to be served tonight over ravioli, and the bread is in the oven. I wish I could post pictures. It’s an impressive loaf. It is one day closer to when my MacBook will be shipped and one day closer to me turning 66. 

Age is only a number but dear god my numbers are wracking up alarmingly. Last year I spent my birthday on the road to Asheville with my love and it was perfect. I remember so much about it which is unusual. But hey! Here I am and I’m not really complaining. After all, I do not have to attend 9th grade again although I wouldn’t mind having a few of those hormones which were dancing about so freely within me in those days. 

Oh hell. I have to make supper! 

Love...Ms. Moon 

About Rotten Potatoes And More!

Here’s the thing- if you smell what you think might be a rotten potato you can be 99% sure that it is and if you choose to wait before investigating the situation, it will not get better. 

We all know this. 

So I’ve been smelling something that smelled dead for a few days, just bare whiffs, you know, but it was not getting better. So this morning I opened up the cabinet in my kitchen hutch where I keep my potatoes and onions and garlic and some assorted things that I hardly ever use like the bases of blenders which lost their jars and which may or may not work and a plastic box thing that I bought because I read an article about how handy it was for dusting things with flour you want to fry like fish or onion slices, I guess. My crockpot and waffle maker hide down there in the depths as well because I rarely use them. I got down on the floor and dug out all this stuff and was a bit surprised to see that none of the potatoes or even onions were rotten in the least. 

So I cleaned out years of crackly onion skins and a bag of garlic that has long since passed the point of usefulness and also the two blender bases and the plastic fish coater. Those last three items I put in my car to take to the dump to set where people put these things which may still have use to someone. 

I put everything I was keeping back in after I’d cleaned it and then discovered my rotten potato which was in the very top of a wire basket thing I have sitting on the counter of the hutch where I keep mostly fruit and sometimes shallots and ripening avocados. I threw the potato away and that was that. At least that cabinet is tidied and there are three fewer unnecessary and unwanted items in the house. 

Inspired by that I took out the drawer from the bottom of the oven and cleaned dust and escaped dried beans and friskies and a rogue Benadryl from under there. 

That was the extent of my housecleaning efforts for the day. 

 

I picked beans of course and then I sat and snapped today’s haul as well as yesterday’s haul and they are ready for the pot and the freezer. 

We are about to get a fine harvest of eggplants. How many eggplants can one couple eat?

We shall see. The bell peppers are almost ready to be picked and I am getting banana peppers daily. We are also getting a few cayenne peppers every day. They are as shiny and red as an eighties supermodel’s fingernails. I saved a cool bottle a few years back and I am making pepper vinegar in it, one or two peppers at a time which is ridiculous but at least they are being used. 

The sourdough starter is still feisty and bubbly and I made up dough for bread I’ll bake tomorrow. That is in the refrigerator rising slowly, slowly in the cool darkness there. 

Mr. Moon has had a very frustrating day being a tractor mechanic. This is in aid of his deer feeding site or at least the one he wants to plant which requires a tractor. He’s only come in the house to eat lunch and watch YouTube’s on tractor repair. He sighs and curses and at one point he said, “I need to get a new tractor.” 

He probably does but I know he likes that old one that the children love to play on so much, especially Levon. It belonged to Billy’s beloved PawPaw and it has seen better days to be honest. 

But you know...

And this afternoon I finished listening to the audio version of Ann Patchett’s newest novel, “The Dutch House” which was narrated by Tom Hanks. 

What a joy!

It made me wish for even more menial labor to attend to for my listening pleasure. 

I can’t think of one more thing I feel the need to discuss except that I am so sorry John Lewis has died. How rich we are to have had him! How much poorer we are to have lost him. He changed the world with his strength and grace and truth. He was mighty as he had the flame of justice in his heart. He was one of those people that you wish could live for centuries but I know that the results of his work and his words absolutely will. 

And may Ruth Bader Ginsburg not go to meet him in the good place just yet. 

Rotten potatoes stink up the joint and as I said, they cannot be ignored but must be dealt with. 

Please- I ask of all the magic in the universe that the rotten potatoes in our government be dealt with soon. And while we’re at it- let’s clean out the whole damn cabinet. 

Etc. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It would appear that I can post from my phone but without pictures. 

Which is sad because I took a picture of one of No Man Lord’s newest art installations today on my walk and was going to share it. 

Sigh. 

It’s a very large sign and in blue paint he has written “He Spoke to Me” and on the side, in case there is any doubt, “Jesus.”

I wish Jesus had spoken to me last Monday night and told me not to pick up the glass beside my MacBook so carelessly. That would have saved me a lot of anguish. However, Jesus does not speak to me and if he did I do not think he’d be speaking about such prosaic things but who knows?

Not me. 

So. I have ordered a new MacBook from Apple because the one I want is sold out everywhere in Tallahassee. It will not even be shipped until at least July 24 but that’s the way it is. By the time it finally gets here I will be wishing I’d paid the extra $$$ to just get the next model up at Costco but yesterday was a frustrating day and all of my choices were not the best. 

And here I am like a junkie without her junk making do with this little phone and a wonky blog app. If this doesn’t publish I might just lose my mind because I’ve written about five posts that never got posted and I am growing weary of this.   

Still, all is really well here in Lloydville. It’s still hotter than devil’s balls but the mosquitoes seem to have slacked off a little bit. The beans are still coming in in vast quantities. I went out today to pick both them and field peas and it took me over an hour at which point I thought I might pass out. But I did not. The heat really is bad though. This morning Mr. Moon worked outside in the front yard and I took a walk and later, when he was getting ready to go finish up some things at Hank and Rachel’s duplex he said, “I’m already tired.”

“Me too!” I said and we both cracked up. 

There is comfort in living with someone the same age as you. Life’s changes occur to both of you at approximately the same rate which is reassuring. I have nothing against May/December relationships but if I were a woman of my age married to a man twenty or even ten years younger I would probably feel even worse than I do now about the way my skin falls in flaps and folds, wrinkled and crepey. And I would probably constantly be trying to hide my forgetfulness and distractedness but instead, I can laugh ruefully with my partner as age has its way with both of us. 

And yet- since we’ve known each other since we were young and smooth of skin and clear of eye and mind, we can still see that in each other underneath all the other stuff. At least I hope he can see that in me as I mostly certainly can see it of him. 

Well. I did not plan to write an essay on aging and marriage and love but here we are. 

The country continues to wallow in bizarreness as the presumed leader descends farther and farther into criminal and immoral and idiotic behavior. I commented again on a post on FB by my young friend because I couldn’t help it. She responded by saying that perhaps I should I should unfriend her and I did. I feel no remorse whatsoever. Simply a freeness. I don’t need that in my life and she does not need me in hers. 

In better news a good friend of mine, a beautiful soul, got a scan yesterday as it was suspected that he might have a lethal form of cancer and as I was walking this morning he sent me a text that the scan came back clean and I could not be happier. I told him to “Eat all the foods, drink all the drinks and make all the love.” 

I know he will and that makes me so happy. And that’s not bad advice for any of us. 

I’ve got homemade egg rolls ready to go in the oven, Dottie and Dearie are still alive, and I can hear Liberace calling his ladies to roost. 

I better end this and get to my end-of-the-day responsibilities. 

Lord, I hope this gets posted. 

Happy Friday, y’all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Test

Oh, Y’all

I am having the hardest time here. 

I’m fine but I’m having technological problems with technology. My beloved MacBook is toast and My blogger app is asking things of me that I cannot seem to deliver. 

Overall though everything is fine and I’m working on it. 

Thank you for all of the emails and messages checking in on me. 

I feel loved and cared for even more than I feel frustrated and that’s a lot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And Again

Argrrgh!

This is not working. 

Hurray!

I am alive. More later. 

Testing

It Is The Season Of The Bean

Today's haul.
Mr. Moon and I were sitting in the Glen Den watching some TV while I snapped green beans and he shelled field peas and he described to me how he's been fertilizing the beans.
"Maybe it's time to stop that now," I said.

Ooh boy.

I'm slowly filling up the garage freezer with quart bags of the beans and it truly is nice to know that this fall and winter I'll have green beans for suppers, soups, stews. I'm not really complaining but it does seem as if my life is mostly defined by these beans right now, picking, snapping, freezing, and cooking them.

This morning I woke up in despair. Just pure despair. Last night I made the huge mistake of getting into it (gently) with a girl I know on Facebook who had posted something about how 99.5% of people who get covid survive and how "they" are using the virus to deny us our civil rights and wreck our economy. That it was created in a lab in North Carolina and then shipped to Wuhan and that Dr. Fauci was in on it and is somehow benefiting financially (I guess) from all this.
I've known this woman literally from the moment of her birth and I had no idea that her thinking goes along these paths. And I used to be good friends with her parents. They certainly, at that time at least, didn't cling to conspiracy theories.
And I suppose that despite knowing full well that even trying to begin to untangle such a web of faulty thinking, of determined ignoring of the facts and science was a fool's errand, I thought that perhaps maybe...what? That I could make her see the light?
Yeah. No.
All it served to do was upset me. To her, the things she thinks are PROVEN FACTS and that is that.
But just knowing that even people whom I know to be intelligent and raised by liberal parents can somehow slip into the that river of denial and conspiracy depressed the living fuck out of me.
I should have just thought, "Bless her heart," and moved on.

But I just felt so overwhelmed this morning. Like it's all too much. Too damn much. Everything is out of balance, sliding from this side of the ship to the other in the storm-tossed seas we're trying and failing to navigate. But there's nothing to be done except to try and stay upright, to attend to that which needs attending.
I guess.
I realized that today was going to be one of those days where I could not ask very much of myself. And I didn't. I got some things done but nothing extra, certainly nothing extraordinary.

Like a sweet blessing, Lis called this morning and told me to go to the post office which I did. She had sent a box filled with lovely treats. Dresses, mostly, that she'd cleaned out of her closet, soft and cool and pretty and a very welcome relief from my overalls. Also some delicious looking fruit syrups for Mr. Moon and some antique fabric for whatever I might want to make with it. She also sent yards of old tulle that is meant for Hank and Rachel's wedding whenever that happens. A tropical blouse, a skirt, a card for Mr. Moon's birthday.
In other words- a treasure box.
I'm wearing one of the dresses now. April Cornell with buttons down the front, pretty detail on the bodice. It feels like wearing a nightgown. A really lovely comfortable nightgown with pockets.
I swear- over half of what's in my closet came from Lis. She takes care of me. I love her so.

I started a loaf of sourdough last night and instead of baking it in my dutch oven as I always do, I baked this loaf on a baking stone with a pan of water in the oven to provide steam. We shall see how it tastes but it is a fine-looking thing. I think we shall call it "artisanal."

Jessie brought sandwiches yesterday that she'd made from the starter I gave her and her bread looked better than mine. Hard for a mama to admit but true. I asked August if he'd like a piece of my bread and he said that he would. I sliced him a piece and handed it to him and he said, "Ummm, it would be better if you put butter on it and heated it up."

And so I did. 

And of course he's right. Bread is always better heated up with butter on it. Even a four-year old knows that. 

Dottie and Dearie are safe in their little coop. Dottie is taking such good care of that child all day, leading her about the yard, the chick running to keep up with her, peeping and occasionally trying out her tiny still-downy wings. Darla continues to sit on the nest. 

I still feel overwhelmed and somewhat in despair but I am doing my best to keep my sea legs beneath me, to find balance in this strange storm. I never feel as if I am succeeding but how does anyone do that these days? 

At least I am wearing a pretty dress as I make my way drunkenly across the deck of this rolling ship. 

And we'll be having a warm green bean salad with our supper tonight. Oddly, they still taste so very good to me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lots Of Bugs

That's an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail that I saw feeding on the zinnias this morning. It was a little cooler when I went to let the chickens out and go water Mr. Moon's earth boxes in the garden. There was life abounding. I saw a Zebra Longwing butterfly on another zinnia

and a fine, fat bumblebee on one of the rattlesnake bean blossoms. He or she would not let me take their picture. 

I sent out a text to the young'uns that I had extra limes and lemons, green beans and field peas if anyone was interested. Jessie texted back that she would love some limes and lemons and both kinds of beans. Could they come out?

Of COURSE they could. 

I quick, quick finished up August's dress. 

I found some rather odd and semi-hideous but interesting buttons in a box that Lis had given me. Perfect! 

I was sewing them on the pockets just as they got here. August pronounced the dress to be exactly the way he wanted it. Which pleased me no end. I had apologized for the lack of sequins but I think the bug buttons made up for that. I asked him if he wanted to wear the dress and he said, "No, not now."

"Just put it on so I can see how it looks on you," I said. 

"We'll send a picture," he said, and went off to collect books for me to read. 

He's a crackie. 

Levon was wearing a dress but not one I'd made. Jessie got it for him for about four dollars and it looked very cool and breezy. 

Perfect for a hot day exploring Boppy's cool toys in the garage. 

We read a few books that they picked out. Levon had to find the dump truck book and the tractor book and also the Duck in the Truck book. We sat on the back porch to read them, two fans going strong. Then we had a little lunch. 

Look at those eyes. 

It was so nice to sit and chat with Jessie and the boys. The boys had a lot to say. They generally do. 

We all went outside to see if we could find Dottie and Dearie which we did. Jessie and I picked a few green beans, just for the fun of it, and we went over to see the goats next door. The chickens who live there all seem to be suffering from some sort of horrible ass-feather problem. 

Ick. 

While we were over there we found two perfectly undamaged small bottles lying side-by-side. That area of the yard was at one time the place where everyone dumped their trash and in those days, trash was mostly glass and metal and only the glass really remains. There are scores of pieces of broken glass and finding whole and entire bottles is a treat. I told Jessie she could have them and she took them home and had the boys clean them outside and sent me this picture. 

You can barely see the brown one (which looked to me to have once held paregoric or something of that nature) under the begonia leaf she's rooting in it but you can see the clear one. It once held Hind's honey and almond cream. It can't be really, really old because it had a screw top but after just a few moments of googling, I see that although the company started making the face cream in the late 1800's, they sold it well into the forties so it's got to be at least that old. Possibly eighty years old? Not worth much, as far as I can tell, but a sweet little bottle, another tiny bit of history. A woman who lived here cared enough about her face to buy and use honey and almond cream on it. I bet it smelled so good. A little bit of luxury here in Lloyd. 

When they left, I traded the boys a cookie for a toe nibble apiece and sent them home with enough beans for days. And lemons and limes and a small rooted bit of lace-cap hydrangea and the bottles, of course. It had been a sweet joy to have them here. 

I've had two calls from Mr. Moon. One this morning when he told me that he'd slept well and was going to get to some projects around there and then probably be home around four or five. 

The second call just came a little while ago where he reported that obviously he was on "Glen Time" and had the boat loaded up and was about to cross the bay. 

I had a feeling that this would probably happen. He is always quite certain that he can finish up a project in a few hours that will, in fact, take a day at least. This is better than what I do, however, which is to moan and bitch that something is going to take forever and thus, never even start it. 

But no problem. I think I'll make some clam spaghetti and a salad and I can warm up the pasta when he gets home and get the salad out of the refrigerator. I am still able to pick enough of the lettuce I planted in pots as well as arugula and basil (three types!) to make the tastiest salad on earth although we are (sob! weep!) just about out of tomatoes with no more to come unless I get my ass to a nursery to buy more plants. 

Did you see that Florida has broken the record for most covid cases reported in the US in one day today? Even more than New York ever did! Of course, we're testing more than we were a few months ago but still- SO MUCH WINNING! Let's go to Disney World! Because they're open! Which makes so much sense! 

So. Are more tomatoes worth the risk of covid? Well, there's one nursery where even the cash registers are outside so perhaps I'll chance that. 

Dear god. 

I can see Dottie and her tiny fluff of a child from where I'm sitting on the porch. They need to get back into the coop so I can go catch the peep and put her in the baby coop. Last night when I did that I almost ran straight into the biggest mama banana spider I've ever seen in my life. I literally bounced off her web. The golden orb weavers (their real name) this year are healthy and hungry. 

And beautiful in their own spidery, wise, and clever ways. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Lagniappe

Mr. Moon just sent me this from Dog Island. A sweet moment after a long, hard day.

A Saturday

Well, day two of Dearie being free to roam with Dottie and as we speak they are both safely shut up in their little pen after spending all day roving the yard. I was shocked to see them all the way out into the side yard by the garden when I was picking beans but there they were, the little one almost hidden by the grass. It's such a lovely, cheerful sight to see them but I'm going to be crying if she gets snatched and it will all be my fault. I know it. All the rest of the chickens appear to be doing fine. I'll be glad when the younger gals start laying because egg production is way down to only one or two a day. I feel like Violet has to be laying somewhere but I have no idea where that would be. But this heat is hard on the hens and they do slow down production in the summer.

Today was a good day. I stayed up a little later than I should have last night. I sort of had a private party last night. While I made my supper I listened to Keith Richard's album Crosseyed Heart and sang and danced as I chopped and cooked. No one here to hear my croakings, no one to watch my old-lady shufflings. Just me and Keith. And while I ate I watched (for probably the fifth time) the Netflix documentary, Under The Influence and the sweet old man made me happy in the heart. I may not talk about him much but I still love him. As I wrote a friend of mine, sometimes these days the only thing in the world that makes sense to me is Keith Richards.
I doubt that will make any sense to anyone but it is true for me. As Keith has said, "You've got the sun, you've got the moon, you've got the Rolling Stones."
Fuck Covid. Fuck Trump.
Give me music and give me the spirit of Keith Richards. My spirit totem animal.

Anyway, I ended up not turning the light off until a little after midnight which is way late for me but I woke up at my regular time and got up and managed to get the beans picked, both of the green variety and the field pea variety. And oh, it was hot! I realized as I was in the garden that Maurice no longer joins me there these days. She's not stupid, that cat. She'll come keep me company when it cools down, I think. She still loves me. She's within touching distance of me right now, stretched out with the fan on her, snoozing as the crickets lullaby her.

Jack was under my feet but he's disappeared. Probably back to the bed where he's been napping almost all day on Mr. Moon's side of the bed as if to demonstrate his enjoyment at being the only male in the house. 

So I picked beans and I did a tiny bit of weeding and then a small amount of mulching and turned the sprinklers on. Despite the heat I do love being in the garden for at least short amounts of time, especially this year after Mr. Moon has made it so beautiful, so fruitful, so bountiful, and on top of that has provided so many bags of leaf mulch to keep it that way. 

I finished August's dress to the point where it is now ready to decorate with those mythical sequins and rick-rack. There is rick-rack on the pockets and I've been going through the button tin to try and get inspiration for trimming. 

Lily sent pictures of the kids on a walk/bike ride they took around a little pond by the east side library. I think they were brave to go out for recreation in this heat. She said that the kids were fine but Pepper- maybe not. 

Oh dear GOD! I texted. You've killed the dog!

But no, Pepper is fine. Owen carried her the last little bit. 

What a sweet boy my Owen is. 

Jessie sent a picture of her family eating popcorn in bed. She'd been taking a nap and the boys woke her up but since they brought her popcorn, it was okay. 

Do you think Levon has his mama's smile? 

A sweet, simple day. For me. 

Mr. Moon called and he has not had a sweet simple day. He is exhausted and probably heat exhausted and on top of that- no fish. No one was catching today. 

Dammit. I wanted some fish. And I wanted him to catch them. 

Fishing offshore is not just like going on a boat ride or throwing a line out into a lake under the shade of a willow tree. It's hard work. And it's hot. And there's no shade. And they can't just jump into the water to cool off. Added to all of that, he didn't sleep well last night as it took forever for the house to cool down. That little place sits in the sun and bakes and if the AC hasn't been on in awhile, it's that much worse. He told me he'd left the thermostat at 74 today and when he got in from fishing it was still only 79. 

I was so hoping that he'd have a wonderful time but that's not what's happened. He's not even going to go out tomorrow. He's just too tired. I hope he gets some sleep tonight. 

I feel pretty sure that I will. Get sleep tonight. I generally do. 

Peace to all of you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, At Least I Got SOMETHING Done

Yes. Yes. I do need to dust my dashboard display. Guess what? Not happening. Especially when the temperature is 97 degrees F. And actually, I may never need to clean that car again because my husband, aka The Car Guy, bought a new(ish) Prius today that he fell in love with and so we're keeping which means that my Prius which I would happily drive for the rest of my life, will be sold.
And I need to confess that I almost never (if ever) clean my car. I don't let trash accumulate in it or anything like that but I don't clean it in the traditional sense. I don't even know why Mr. Moon bothers to put me in newer cars. And it's stressful when he does! What if I bump into something? What if it gets scratched? What if...oh I don't know.
But it is a beautiful car, the new(ish) one. It's pearly white. My old one is red so that'll be a big difference. I'll probably not be able to find it in a parking lot for at least a year.

Goodness! It's been a big day around here. For one thing- I'm drinking my martini alone. Mr. Moon has taken off for the island where he has some repairs or something to do and is going to go fishing with some friends but in his own boat. He was so happy, getting ready to go. He asked me if I wanted to go with him but, eh- not this time. It is strange though, being alone after all these months of not being separated. I'll probably survive although I will miss him. He says he'll miss me but I think he's missed going fishing more.
I spent a good part of the morning and early afternoon busy as a little June Cleaver bumblebee. Can't you just see a bumblebee wearing a modest string of pearls around its neck and with an apron tied around her waist? I can. I cooked him some field peas and rice that he can heat up for a meal and I made more pimento cheese and also, because I am the BEST WIFE IN THE WORLD, cookies. Oatmeal, raisin, pecan, chocolate chip.
Fishing health food.
I also made six pints of bread and butter pickles.

That's what they looked like in their pickling syrup. I am a bit worried as I think the extra hours I left them in the refrigerator with salt on them probably made them far saltier than bread and butter pickles should be. As I told a friend- I shall just call them "stroke pickles."

Oh, sigh. 

Anyway, all of that took me quite awhile and of course there was the ritual washing of the bedding. And when all of it was done and Mr. Moon was loading up his truck and boat I left to go to Publix and Costco. Costco's parking lot was not very full but the lines were long. I did not buy one thing that was fun. Not a toaster oven or a new fan or a diamond necklace. Just batteries and Honey Nut Cheerios and lemons and limes and stuff like that. People were masked and a few were actually covered head to toe in various outfits, some involving camouflage. 

This IS the south, y'all. 

Then on to Publix where I had a moment of silence in the breakfast foods aisle, remembering my great blow-out last week. No one incurred my wrath today and so it was all fine. I was just sort of depressed and didn't buy anything fun there either. Not even a mango. But I did get to see Lily and she walked me and my groceries out to the car and we had a little chat and I kissed her back and patted her butt. 

My new way to love on my babies. And it's better than nothing. 

I let little Dearie out of the peep coop today to wander about with her mother. They left the coop entirely but right now I can see them by the door of the coop, mama and baby. It's probably stupid to do this because anything could snatch that child but I sort of have the attitude that even if Dearie's life should be cut way too short, she/he will have lived a free and fancy life, scratching in the grass and dirt for bugs and so forth, as chickens should do. And having only one bebe to keep safe, Dottie will protect her as best as a mother hen could. However, I think it is time for me to go interfere and chase them into the hen house. The sun is getting very low into the sky and it is about to be hawk-feeding time. 

I sure do hope that Jack comes to join me in bed tonight because otherwise, I truly will be lonely. I have been thinking a great deal about the intimacy of two people laying down to sleep together- and I do mean sleep. The deep trust and peace of it as we drift into and out of that intensely vulnerable, private, and somewhat magical country which borders both sleep and awareness. Somehow this seems to me to be even more of an intimate and trusting act than anything else we can do in bed. I could be wrong. 

As usual. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Space Cadettedness

I took two pictures today. One was of a realtor's sign that I pass on my walk on Whitehouse Road. I don't plan on moving but I've been curious as to what the house and property look like and how much they were asking. Basically, the place is a horse farm and I sure don't need one of those and they want about a million dollars for it and good luck to them!
Anyway, you didn't need to see a picture of a sign.
The other picture I took was a giant bag filled with...wait for it!...GREEN BEANS.
Y'all.
Oh, y'all.
Those beans are still coming in like crazy. My arms get tired of picking them. I'm not kidding. They really do. I have to keep switching the bowl I use to pick them in from one arm to another to give my picking arm a rest.
And no one needs to see another picture of a bag of green beans.

It's been another day of feeling completely inept and unproductive. I know that's not entirely true. I took three bags of trash to the trash depot. I walked. I picked those beans. I cut up cucumbers, onions, and peppers and salted them down to make bread and butter pickles. I talked to Lis on the phone. I did some laundry. And all of that should have taken about three hours, tops, but somehow it took all day long. And I kept doing things like filling up the washing machine, opening the panel where you put the soap and bleach and then just walking away. Unloading half of the dishwasher and thinking about something else I needed to do and abandoning the dishwasher.
I have the attention span of an eighteen-month old who needs a nap.
And I pulled a package of what I thought was a venison backstrap out of the freezer only to discover AFTER IT HAD THAWED that it was really stew meat.
None of these things are of world importance or even dangerous but it's just so annoying to keep wasting time like this.
No one would want ME to be president, I can guarantee that. Hell, I'd suck at being president of the local garden club but that's neither here nor there as there is no local gardening club as far as I know and also, I have a firm rule which I follow and that rule is to not join anything with the world "club" in it.
I got elected as treasurer of one of those service clubs in high school that I joined for some unknown reason and never attended one meeting of. How I got elected treasurer when I wasn't even there is beyond me but that only speaks to the ridiculousness of clubs as far as I'm concerned.

So. That's been my day. Wandering around and not getting things done. I did not touch August's dress but I did go looking for rick-rack and sequins. No sequins but I have rick-rack in three colors, only one of which has anything to do with the color of the print of his dress but it's such a pale pink that I might just go ahead and use the bright orange.
August wouldn't care.
I also found enough of the type of elastic I need to make about fifty masks. How did I miss that in my previous searches? It was right there in the sewing stuff.
Oh well. Life on earth continues to plod on no matter what I do.

Darla is still sitting on the nest. She's got a new egg which I'd bet fifty dollars that Susie laid. Poor little thing, sitting on that nest for a month now. I don't know what to do. I take her off of it and set her down but she just goes right back.
This can't be good.

I see that the Supreme Court ruled that Donald Trump is not immune from investigation and subpoena from Congress and state grand juries which is excellent but no one's going to see anything until after the election.

I sure hope he ends up in jail. Unless he dies first.

I sure wish I had a swimming pool. Or a river in my real, true backyard. Or a spring head. Of course Florida has now had a case of brain-eating amoeba so there's always that.

I sure hope we all survive the summer. Got to live long enough to vote in November.
Okay?
Okay.

Love...Ms. Moon