Thursday, August 20, 2020

Random Thoughts And Observations


I have been the spaciest of space queens today. I've had a lot on my mind as we all do but there's really no good excuse for this level of forgetfulness. The first thing I did was to walk to the post office forgetting to take the letters that I needed to mail. I got to the post office, patted my pockets knowing that I'd forgotten, sighed and came home. Anyway, I got that picture of some of the firespike I've rooted and transplanted to the front yard over the years. It should have been blooming way before now but the amount of shade it gets from the oaks is overwhelming. Behind it you can see the Canary Island date palm, also known as Killer Palm which I still haven't done anything about. I also got a nice picture of the beauty berry, now full and ripe. 

That is truly one of my favorite colors. Believe it or not, I can remember a book from my early childhood that had bunny rabbits in it and one of them was drawing with a crayon of that color and I felt compelled to study that page over and over. Who knows why? And why do I remember it? 
This relates somewhat to another question I have been pondering lately about biographies. Of course, my reading of the two books about Walter Anderson have had a lot to do with that. My question is this- how can anyone, even a wife or a child know what truly motivated a person? I ask this because even though I write here every day and discuss my feelings, my day-to-day life, my marriage, my relationship with my children and with the world in general, there is so much more that I do not write about and much of that which I don't even talk to anyone about. Or if I do, perhaps just one or two people. I doubt that any human expresses their true feelings to a great many people all of the time and trying to tease out the meaning and motivation of a life from perceived actions and even writings and conversations seems horribly inadequate. 
The books about Anderson are leaving me feeling as if only the very tip of the iceberg of who he was and how he became the artist he was and what he thought have been revealed. And this is not to say that I find him the most fascinating subject I've ever read about. But there is obviously so much more than what even his wife knew. 
And then I think of all of the books that have been written about the famous from Abe Lincoln to Hitler to Virginia Wolfe to the Beatles and how so many "facts" have been proclaimed which we have come to accept as truth and I can't help but wonder how many of those facts are based on the reality of the life of the subject and how many are merely assumed by the author?
And of course I'm not speaking here of facts like who was born here and who was educated there or lists of siblings and parents and grandparents. I'm talking about (and I'm going to use this word again) motivations. 
Obviously memoir is more to be trusted along with autobiographies but even there- see above about what I write and don't write. How can any of us help but try to present ourselves in a decent light? 
Well, maybe not Charles Bukowski but you know what I mean. 

Okay. That was a bit of a detour but it's what I've been thinking about. 

Besides going to the post office today I went to Costco and Publix again. There was a guy in Costco with his mask pulled down beneath his mouth who had a dog on a leash who did not resemble a service animal in any way and the guy was white, tall, with an athletic build and he appeared to be someone who's probably gone to college. In short, not your regular Trump supporter/Covid conspiracy theorist-looking guy. He had two nice-looking kids with him, one at least over 21 because I saw her go into the liquor store, and one who could have been in high school or college. They were masked. 
I approached an employee and asked him about the situation and he said, "The guy with the dog?" 
"Yeah," I said.
"Someone's been sent to speak to him."
I saw then that the man's mask was up where it should be and I'd not heard any strong words so I guess he didn't fight the rule. 
"He's special," I told the employee in a rather Church-Lady tone of voice.
This seemed to amuse him greatly. 
"Yeah," he laughed. "He's special." 

Oh, to be so entitled. 

And that's about it. I finished up mending the monkey doll and started in on trying to save a very old dress of mine which I've stitched and re-stitched and now am going to patch because the fabric is simply threads in some places. I love this dress and refuse to lose it. I have a tooth that's bothering me more than I'd like to admit, my ribs feel pretty good, I dreamed last night that I was doing stand-up comedy but instead of being on a stage, I was on the ground and walking around a huge tower of balconies filled with people, trying to make myself heard by all. I was not very funny. 
Mr. Moon has set a critter trap for a possum who is living under our house and we know it's a possum because Glen set up a trail camera by the giant hole under the steps to the side porch. He left the camera up and there was no possum caught last night but he did manage to catch a bit of video of an unknown cat, sticking his/her head into the trap to sniff the bait (cat food and shrimp) and then backing off and leaving. If we do catch the possum, she (I feel certain it's a she) will be relocated. And no, not in heaven. In another actual place a few miles away.
God only knows what goes on around here after dark. 

One of the barred rock hens is pecking away right beside the porch and I can't remember her name. 
See? I told you I am the spaciest of space queens. 
Oh yeah. Alice. 
I guess as long as I remember my name and my husband's name and the kids' and grandkids' names and how to get home from Publix and how to cook, I'm sort of okay. I remember when I used to be smart. 
Those were the days. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I watched Elizabeth Warren, Obama, and Kamala Harris speak last night. Although all of the speeches were terrific, my favorite line of the evening belonged to Ms. Harris when she said, "I know a predator when I see one," and there was a pause, a beat, before she went on. 
I cackled out loud. 
But I bet she does. And I do too.

P.P.S. Meanwhile, this is going on. 

Of course the "cone of uncertainty" is uncertain. 
But really? Really? 
As I said yesterday, this is Florida in August. And there ain't a thing I can do about it. 


  1. I looked at the weather channel, and that's their map, too. To think, they lifted yours!
    Anyway, two potential landfalls in one day. It sure looks like it will be two landfalls, day be damned, and one is going to rain on you. Have a nice weekend.

    1. At least one sure as hell will rain on us. It is an interesting development for sure.

  2. Spacey days happen...... you make up for it in so many other ways. Hope the critter is caught under house. And that beauty berry is a color so delicious I couldn't begin to describe it. sorry you are facing the double whammy with hurricanes....may all be well. Our horrendous heat wave of almost 2 weeks is finally breaking...... I am so relieved. Smoke from all the fires still very prevalent but easing just a tad. Bedtime last night was still 97 outside and 95 inside......thought we would die...but we did not. much (comparatively) better today. Coastal calif. CAN be brutal at times.
    Susan M

    1. Good Lord! And you don't have AC do you? I guess if you did, it wouldn't be 95 inside. I'd go check into a hotel and crank that unit up. I don't know how you stand it. I hope it all breaks for you soon.

  3. That first picture, and the second one too, make me think of verdant forests, and this, just beyond your door. Those berries really are a most exquisite color. You know, I often think memoirs are both more and less revealing of the subject, because it reveals, above all, how the subject wants to be seen, but hides so much that is inconvenient to that presentation. I love the brave memoirs, in which people show themselves more fully, without apology, like your spirit animal, Keith. There is indeed a lot that we don't write here, but the psychological truth of who we are, what matters to us, who we love, mostly comes through. I love you.

    1. You are right about wanting to be seen a certain way. And of course, I thought of Keith when I was writing that because he seems to be pretty humble and forthcoming about his life and how he's lived it. And I thought about you, too, and how the sort of writing you do might be the very best way to get into the subject's mind because you ask the questions that need to be answered for the full picture to emerge. That's a very special skill and talent. And not one we think about very often as we read "autobiographies."
      I suppose after years and years of us blogging, people do actually have a pretty good handle on who we are. I sure do love you too.

  4. It often takes me by the throat how very many stories are walking around me without me knowing anything about them. The feeling is intense.
    The beauty berries are that perfect color, which may be scientifically proven one day to have a very unique and positive effect upon the human brain.
    We have a couple motion activated cams outside, one of which captured the image of a goodly sized bear going down our driveway. The other cam in the bird yard catches almost nighty raccoon parties...
    I spent a big chunk of last night trying to support my husband through a suspected kidney stone attack. Todays gentle prods to make a doctor appointment are being brushed off.

    1. I have often quoted Yoko Ono who said, "Everyone has a story to tell."
      So true. And we generally have no idea at all.
      I love your take on that color! Perhaps that's why I was so drawn to that page when I was a child.
      Mr. Moon got a nice video once of a bear at his feeder, moving about on his ass and eating corn off the ground. It was so funny. Fat, lazy beast!
      Your husband- Jeez! I had a kidney stone once and I got to the hospital ASAP and I hate the hospital with all my soul. But I knew they had drugs there and I WANTED DRUGS!
      I hope with all my heart that he's better today.

  5. I agree, so much rattles around in our heads and then it will be lost - all that is except for what we write in our blogs. Stay safe. I love the beautiful plants and birds you have in Florida but hurricanes and tropical storms are a high price to pay!

    1. You're right about that. Hurricanes are not fun in the least.

  6. How deep should we delve in these blogs? How much should we reveal? And where does truth really dwell? It's interesting that you flagged up that "issue" if I might call it that. Also, I similarly detected the thinly hidden meaning in Kamala Harris's remark about predators. I bet it made the incumbent's blood boil. In contrast with him, Joe Biden seems so very decent - like the nation's kindly grandfather.

    1. That's a good question, Mr. P. I think we should delve as far as we want. Each of us has a different opinion about that, I suppose. As to truth- hard to say where it lives. On my best days I'd say it lies in each of us.
      I doubt Trump even noticed what Kamala said. He may not have even watched the speech. As to Joe- yeah. I'm hoping the best for him. Truly.

  7. No biography or even autobiography is truly and completely accurate. As you said, there's so much going on inside all of us that we could never possibly get it all down on a page, and furthermore, would we WANT to? Most of us want to present a certain persona to the world and would be reluctant to be completely revealing. I know I would!

    So now I see what you mean about hurricanes. YEESH! Do they have names?

    1. Oh, and bravo for sparing the possum. I always feel bad for possums. They seem so lowly.


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