So. Ms. Moon- is food all you think about?
Thanks for asking. Yep. Pretty much that's it. Growing it, shopping for it, cooking it, eating it, cleaning up after I cook it and we eat it. Sometimes canning or freezing or preserving it.
Today was all about making eight more pints of pickled beans. It's such a messy operation. Well, not that bad. Beans aren't nearly as messy as say, fruit. But I manage to create chaos on the kitchen island. I took that picture when the jars were in the canner. Those beans lying between the cutting board and my compost pot were the ones that were too big and tough for pickling.
It was storming off and on this morning which is why I decided to do an indoor project. What I honestly wanted to do was to sit on the couch and watch something on the TV and do some more mending and patching on my favorite shirt which has become a sort of wabi-sabi art project. But damn- those beans in the refrigerator were yelling at me to do something with them and trust me- I still have plenty left and there are so many more that I am sure I'll pick tomorrow.
This is getting out of hand. I've always had good luck with these rattlesnake beans but this year's abundance is rather unbelievable. And I think I have just about enough cucumbers to make a few pints of pickles with them. I need to get out my recipe for the fourteen-day pickles and buy approximately a hundred and fifty pounds of sugar to make them with.
Not really. But almost.
I had an uncomfortable experience this morning. I got a text from a number that I knew to belong to a man whom I've been friends with since high school. We were very, very good friends. And we stayed friends for many years. He was the brother of a boyfriend of mine and although we haven't been in touch since the early seventies, D. and I have seen each other quite a few times over the years, despite living in different places. But some years ago he got involved with a guy who, although charming as hell, was not good for D. At all. I don't really understand the relationship but you know- not my business. But the guy seemed to take D. down a path that was infinitely hungry for money and for drugs and although I begged D. to please, please just go to an Alanon meeting, it was like he could not hear what I was saying. His obsession with this guy was utter and complete.
And I hadn't heard from him in years until this morning and the first text asked how I was doing and the second asked if I had a cash app on my phone and well, you can figure out the rest.
He wasn't asking for much and if I'd been in the room with him, I would have given him the cash. Wouldn't even think twice about it or whether or not he would pay me back. But I was not going to send him money via Facebook Messenger which I did not know was a thing although it would appear it is.
And I've felt guilty all day long although at the same time, I don't think it would serve any purpose to send him money. And I don't care what people spend the money on that I give to them. I just don't. Again- not my business.
The amount he asked for (and he said it was for a prescription) was not enough to fear that he was going to lose his apartment or starve to death if he didn't get it, but he claimed that he could pay me back in three days when he got paid. Not that I would expect to be paid back but three days?
So odd. And I know that if he reached out to me he's obviously gone through the good will of everyone he knows.
It's so hard to be a human. To know what to do. There is that part of me that would like to be the person who is so gracious and so giving that when someone asks, I simply give. To me, that is what grace is all about. Or at least a part of it. And D. and I have been through some shit together. Good shit, bad shit, funny shit, amazing shit, cosmic shit, painful shit, celebratory shit. We have been important in each other's lives. Hell, y'all- he give me a copy of Sticky Fingers for my seventeenth birthday. And a bottle of Boone's Farm Apple Wine as well.
So why am I being so stubborn about this request?
I am not really sure. I just feel like D. is not that person anymore. Not the one I've known and loved for so long. Something, someone, has altered his very being.
Well, anyway, it is now a perfectly beautiful early evening with a bright shining sun and twittering birds. The days are so long now. It's often light when we finish our supper and we do not eat very early. I remember how I resented the fact that I had to go to bed before it was dark in summers when I could still hear the sounds of other kids playing. Now when it's still light at eight-thirty, I sigh because it will be so long before it's dark enough to go to bed. How things change.
Yes. Things change. People change. I change. Do souls change?
Don't ask me. I don't know shit.
Guess I'll go roll up some egg rolls now. I've already wokked the tofu and vegetables. Mr. Moon will be so happy. He does love egg rolls. He's been at Tom's most of the day, working on our coffee/dining table but has just gotten home, reporting a successful day in the wood shop.
And I just watched an owl flutter down to the ground and then fly back up into one of the Bradford pears. We think he may be hunting young birds. The cardinals and woodpeckers are dining at the feeder as we speak.
Let us be fair- it's not just me who thinks about food all the time, is it?
No. It's not. But I know I sort of overdo it. It's not like I'm forced to hunt and gather to get enough calories a day to sustain life although you'd think that was the case sometimes.
The crickets are singing. I just heard the owl call. All is well.
And I still feel torn and yes, guilty.