Tuesday, December 14, 2021

Quite A Day


I woke up today wishing that there was a nearby cliff I could possibly jump off of. I'm not even kidding. The kind of day where I resent my children because I love them too much to even consider jumping off a cliff. I was feeling scared and depressed and angry and anxious and hopeless and futile and about every other negative way a sixty-seven year old woman can feel about herself, her existence, her life. 

I crept around here and wondered why I even bother to read the news because it's all always horrible or attempt to clean anything because nothing will ever really, truly be clean around here or do laundry because that's certainly never done or- well, you get it. 
I had the morning blues for sure. 

And then I don't even know what happened. I forced myself to do the chores I needed to do and started a loaf of sourdough even though my starter hadn't been fed in a week and the next thing I knew I was taking care of a miniature rose bush in a pot that I've been trying to ignore for about a year and then I did a few things with the porch plants and watered them and I decided to bring in my tiny little Christmas tree that I bought at Publix last year and which I did actually transplant some months ago into a pot. It looked like this when I bought it. 


You can't tell much about the size of it but trust me- it was, as I described it last year, elfin. This is the second Publix Christmas tree that I've bought over the years in this house, I think. The first one got too big to be a porch plant and I planted it in the actual ground at some point this year and it's still alive which is both surprising and thrilling. 
Anyway, I brought the newer one in today and set it in the hallway and oh- by the way- I never took the ornaments it came with off- and I put two of the tiny strings of lights on it and TA-DA! My Christmas decorating is complete! 
I sent a picture of it to the kids with just that message. 


Within minutes, Hank sent back the picture you see at the top with the message, "The White House tree is truly lovely this year!" and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. 

And I've felt cheerful ever since. 

I washed the rooster flannel, dried it, ironed it, laid it out and pinned the pattern to it, and cut it out. Everything was going so smoothly that I KNEW that something was going to go wrong. I mean- please. I did almost cut one piece upside down but I noticed my mistake and rectified it, repinning the pattern. I marked the fabric where it needed to be marked and then I opened up the old, old Singer case. I knew my machine needed oiling so I got out the little handbook with the illustrations of where the oiling points are along with the oil and I plugged in the machine and to my great amazement, it started running by itself as if the ghost of some old woman wearing shit-kicking brogans had her foot on the pedal! 
WHAT? WHAT? 
Dammit. 
I unplugged it and decided to go ahead and oil it anyway, which I did, but that did not magically fix anything so I looked at the pedal itself and sure enough- where the cord exits the device, it was frayed with bare wires showing. 
I sent a picture to my husband who was in the garage. 


Bad picture but you get the gist. 
He texted back that he'd look at it when he came in and he did and he took it all apart and cut the wire and resplit it and taped it up and put it all back together and now it works as it should. 
Phew! 
I am so grateful. 
It was a little late to start actually sewing when he finished but everything is ready to go tomorrow. The pattern pieces are all folded and waiting, the machine is oiled, my scissors and pins and measuring tape are all set out. 
My bread is in the oven. It rose just as well as if I'd fed the starter yesterday. And what's up with that? Once again I feel as if the "rules" of sourdough baking are all pretty much bullshit. 
And best of all, I am still cheerful. In fact, I feel better physically and emotionally than I have in weeks. Now this is not to say that I won't wake up tomorrow and once again wonder about the availability of cliffs but for now, all is well. I'm even contemplating bringing out my tiny nativity and setting it up, just for the joy of putting Buddha behind the manger. 
Now don't get me wrong- one pop star's ear-splitting, voice gargling rendition of O! Holy Night and I could snap and start throwing Christmas china from one end of TJ Maxx to the other but perhaps if I stay out of places with Christmas muzak no one will get hurt. 

Here's the one Christmas song that's been going through my head that doesn't make me want to eat candy canes for the pure pleasure of puking them up. 


Thanks, Bill. Thanks, George. Thanks to Mac Rice who wrote the song and to Albert King who released this version in 1974. 


And thanks to Hank, whose job, as he has noted, is to know things and be funny. 

Keep it funky, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

23 comments:

  1. I cannot believe I am 66 years old and have never heard either version of that song. Both spectacular and I am most grateful to you for the enlightenment.

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    1. I knew nothing about it either until the Bill Murray Christmas special. Hank is the one who pointed out the recording by Albert King. I love both versions.

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  2. What vfh1159 said, even my age.
    thanks for that, Mary.

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  3. That is an admirable Christmas bush lady. Is it a Dubya or a Herbert Walker? I hope you wake up on Wednesday feeling like wee Tinkerbell in "Peter Pan".

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  4. I'm glad the clouds lifted for you! And you had a productive day probably because of the sheer absence of cliffs around your neighborhood. Good going, Mary!

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    1. Yes, we are fairly cliffless around these parts. Probably for the best.

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  5. Good one, Hank! Glad you bounced back and felt better. Your little tree is so cute!

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  6. I felt like that this morning but sadly, mine hasn't dissipated yet. I know I'm supposed to be a bigger person but it's hard sometimes.

    Your tree looks lovely btw. What else do you need?

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    1. Why do we feel that we must be "bigger"? Why can't we just feel what we feel and accept ourselves as we are? I wish we could. People like you and me would be so much happier. And trust me- you are plenty big of both heart and soul.

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  7. I love your tree - it looks better in your home than in the White House - sorry Hank! Oh and I think what you just did is called "fake it till you make it"! Keep on keeping on!

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    1. That phrase entered my head too. Unfortunately, it almost never works for me. I tend to think that I just suddenly had a nice change of mood. But who knows?

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  8. I do love Hank's White House mash-up! And your Xmas tree is just about my speed. I think when we work around the house, even doing lightweight stuff, we feel more in control of things. That's true of me, anyway.

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    1. That is true, Steve. Even making one place, one space, look tidier and cleaner is good for the soul. That's why I make my bed every day. And make sure my dishes are washed and the kitchen cleaned up every night.

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  9. Mark that two people Hank cheered this morning with that text. XOXO

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    1. Heh-heh. He knows how to make his mama laugh.

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  10. I woke up this morning from another one of those dreams where everyone has turned against me as if whatever was happening that they didn't like was my fault.Puts my mood off til I can shake off the dream. I have no idea where this shit is coming from. Glad your day cleared up. Good for Hank.

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    1. I go to bed every night knowing that I'm going to have weird dreams. It's just definitely going to happen. And I usually remember some of them. My hope is always that I get some good ones that can entertain me when I think of them the next morning.

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  11. Hanks white house picture is the highlight of my day.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.