Alone But Not Lonely

Last night when the menfolk were getting all packed up for today's fishing, and making their sandwiches and planning their early breakfast, talking about getting up at 4 a.m., I said, "Y'all will be out on the water before I'm even up." 
I was correct. 
When I got up, I found that picture in my texts. 

My fishing boys! 

We had such a good time with Owen. Last night while I was in the kitchen getting the pizzas ready to go in the oven, he came in and talked to me and we discussed so many things. One of the subjects we covered is that probably, one of the best things a parent or grandparent can leave a child these days is land. Land to grow things on and land to live on. This may or may not be true but it seems to me that land will become more and more precious as the years go by, especially land with decent soil and a water source. I think about the back-to-the-land movement we hippies got so interested in and I still think it was a good idea. A whole lot of people I knew built their own houses (like Debbie and Tim are doing now!) and learned how to grow gardens and often times live without electricity or even plumbing although we got over that one pretty quick. We wanted to relearn what our grandparents had known, and our great-grandparents too. And we sorta did. It was a good experience for kids raised in the fifties where "modern" was the way to go and mashed potatoes came in bags of flakes, and bread was white and soulless, and bathrooms had soaps and towels that you weren't allowed to use because they were for guests only. Many of us had our babies at home and learned midwifery skills because the AMA had criminalized that particular ancient body of knowledge and art, and we nursed those babies with our own breasts. All of us women who had been born to mothers who were on powerful drugs when they had us and who were told that formula was the way to go- so convenient, so MODERN! 

You can say what you will about hippies but we changed a lot of things including what people now know as a healthier diet, the way mothers and babies are treated in hospitals now, the resurgence of midwifery training and certification, the acceptance of people who don't look like us or act like us, and a whole lot more. 

Of course we have a long way to go in all of those areas. 

Anyway, so Owen and I were talking about land and growing things and how different high school will be from middle school and the different types of arthritis, and, oh- I don't know. We just talked. 

My boy and I. I loved it. 

The men got the TV all set up and I was quite proud of them. We watched The Great British Bake Off. Owen loves that show. Or at least he claims to. 

Mr. Moon kissed me good-bye this morning when they left. I think. I could have dreamed it. And they left me a sweet note by the coffee pot where Glen had set up my coffee to start at 8:30 which is my usual civilized time to arise. 

I did not do much today. I've been so busy and I just wanted a day to laze and lounge. I picked the garden of course. 

The zinnias are my favorite crop right now. 

They just make my soul smile. 
While I was in the garden with sweat dripping off me, Maurice came out and began meowing at me. She eventually settled in the shade of a row of field peas and continued her bitching until I finished what I was doing and turned on the sprinkler. I know she was telling me that it was way too hot out there and that I needed to get back in the house. I told her that I agreed and Lord, did it feel good to get back into the air conditioning. 

And then I started in on a project which should have been fairly easy and swiftly done. 
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!

So, the days before we go to North Carolina is when I generally shop for and buy new stuff like, well, the bathing suit, new flip-flops, a few new dresses. All, or mostly, at least, online. 

And I had ordered a dress that I knew was a cheap dress and it was too small for me but I liked it. However, sending shit back for a return or an exchange when they don't even include a packing list or instructions or anything just seems overwhelmingly hard to figure out. 
For me, anyway. 
And since the dress was so cheap (in all regards, but still- it had pockets), I decided to just undo the tops of the side seams and sew in a little more fabric to give my luscious bosoms more room to breathe. The dress is black and I have some black silk from way-back-when that I had used to make Mr. Moon a pair of comfy drawstring britches and although it is definitely not a perfect black match, it would do, especially if I only wear the dress around here. 
So first of all, my usual sewing table has that crossword puzzle on it that I sort of hate and haven't even been working on so I set up the original table that you could buy back in the fifties (they got some stuff right then) to set my grandmother's Singer Featherweight in. 

That was the easy part. Next came the seam ripping so that I could properly insert more material. 

ARGHHHHH! 

When I tell you that it took me over two hours to do one of the two sides of the alteration, I am not kidding you. And I am talking about six inches of alteration per side. It may be a cheap dress but they sewed that cloth together like it mattered! And of course, it does. I started in on the other side and looked at the clock. It was already five! No way I was going to get the second side done this evening. My eyes are half blind from trying to see the tiny stitches I'm trying to rip out and my left hand is numb because it always goes numb when I'm doing any sort of repetitive work due to a very old wrist injury. So I set it all down and unplugged the iron (you can't sew without an iron) and went and started the dishwasher. 

I have no idea if I am supposed to be making supper tonight. Glen texted to tell me that they were off the water and safe and I texted back "Hurray!" and "Did you have a great time?" and "Let me know if y'all are going to want me to feed you tonight."

So far, this is what I've gotten back. 

I am thinking that means they had a great time but I have no idea about their nutritional needs. 
And I am not worrying it. 

I feel that I must bring you all up to date on Sheba, a sleek, black cat, who was my faithful feral for awhile. I was feeding her and providing water in the backyard for at least a few weeks but one day I saw Jack AND Maurice chasing her and I have not seen her since. 

I miss her. 

And here's another cat story. 
As I have said, I bought 20 pounds of Kirkland cat food at Costco and started feeding that to my cats. Even Sheba was not fond of it and Jack and Maurice ate it, but only because otherwise they would have died of starvation. A bowl of that stuff would last for days. I finally caved in with about three pounds of the Costco stuff left and bought a bag of Meow Mix which is probably the cat equivalent to a diet of Hot Pockets. Or ramen noodles. Or Taco Bell. 
And a few days ago my husband dumped out the cats' bowls of Kirkland's nutritional cat food and washed and rinsed and dried those bowls and filled them up with Meow Mix. 
They went crazy, according to Mr. Moon. I was still in bed when this happened. He said that Maurice was making noises like, "Meummm yum, yum, mehummm" as she inhaled the Meow Mix. 

I am telling you- these cats were born at the dump. Their tastes were formed there. They do not want nutrition. In fact, here's something else- Maurice's favorite treat besides Temptations is lunch meat. Yesterday I bought some pricey Boar's Head chicken and turkey from the deli at Publix for the boys' fishing sandwiches, and I gave her a little bit of a slice of the chicken this afternoon. 
She sniffed it and walked away. 
Now if it had been Oscar Meyer, she would have eaten it up and asked for more. 

Okay. Just got a call from Glen. They are on their way home. They caught mahi-mahi, red grouper, red snapper, and lane snapper. And they are going to stop at the barbecue joint on their way home. 

I guess I am excused from KP duties tonight which is a good thing because the dead animal in my kitchen is still quite dead. 
Hopefully, the man will deal with that tomorrow. I have a feeling this is going to involve pulling out the dishwasher. It's not going to be fun. Bless his heart. 

Love...Ms. Moon