Man. Just about the same time I was writing that post last night wherein I'd said this about Vergil- "He is always there for any of us who need help in any capacity"- Glen was calling him from the woods for help with a deer he'd shot.
It's a very long story and was traumatic for me because my man was in the woods for a very long time, trying to get his doe back to the truck from where it had fallen, in the dark, in the heat, through thick tangles of vines and brush before he finally called on Vergil for help.
I don't talk about it much but Mr. Moon does have an undiagnosed neurological situation going on which makes plain old walking hard. And getting harder. He refuses, however, to let it slow him down much. Thus- he still hunts and fishes and let me tell you something, standing in a boat all day, on the water in the Gulf, without a good sense of where your feet are in relation to your body can really mess up your balance. But as long as he can do these things, I want him to do them. But Lord, he was so worn out when he and Vergil finally got back here last night after ten p.m.
With all of these activities, whether of fishing or hunting, there is so much time spent first in preparation and then in dealing with the things that must be done afterwards. When it's hunting, the deer has to be skinned, gutted, and bled. And that's just how it is if you want the meat. And that's how it is for any meat we may eat, even if it comes wrapped in plastic with a white tray underneath it from the grocery store.
This is not an easy and quick job to do. Mr. Moon has a set-up in his Garage Mahal with the things he and Vergil and sometimes Jason need to do it and by the time I got out to the garage to make sure that all was well, the deer was already hanging and Vergil was taking care of the skinning and so on. I never, ever watch this process nor even want the slightest peek at it but I was so overcome with worry last night that the sight of that going on didn't bother me in the least. What bothered me was that my husband was completely beat up, absolutely exhausted, soaked through and then soaked again with sweat, and feeling so frustrated. He hated having to call Vergil but I am so glad he did.
I forced him to go into the house to cool off and Vergil kept reassuring him that he was happy to do what he was doing- all of it taught to him by Glen when Vergil decided to learn to hunt to provide safe, healthy meat for his family.
I got my man in the house and made him start drinking chocolate milk because believe it or not, that can help prevent cramps. IF DRUNK DURING THE ACTIVITY, NOT SO MUCH AFTERWARDS. But you know- better late than never. And then I convinced him to stay in the house and rest and let Vergil take care of things. He fought me on this. He was putting his shoes back on and I literally stood in front of him on the steps and would not let him go back out.
I have never done such a thing in my life. He finally acquiesced and went back in the house and took off his shoes. And thank god he did because it was just about then that he started having leg cramps so bad that I told him I thought he needed to go to the hospital. Which he laughed at. While he was yelling in pain.
Anyway, the deer got processed, Vergil and I got ice on it in the giant cooler, and then Vergil washed down the floor of the garage where the processing had taken place and left the blood and guts for Glen to bury today.
So that is an example of how Vergil is willing to help in any capacity.
Mr. Moon slept in his chair and I slept in our bed, poorly. Not as poorly as he did, I'm sure. He had cramps on the hour until five a.m.
We went to lunch together today in Monticello and on our way there we were talking about how stubborn some of his friends are when it comes to admitting and adapting to different physical challenges.
"Like you," I said.
He was shocked that I would include him in there.
Oh. That man.
But we did go to Monticello and ate at the Mexican restaurant again. I just love the food there. Here's some of the pretty artwork.
A chair back.
While Glen and I were looking at collard plants, another man came in who wanted onion sets. The three you see there greeted him and asked how he was gettin' along.
"Fine," he said. "Trying to work myself up to being like y'all. Retired."
The old guy in the chair on the left with the cowboy hat said, "It's good but you do get hongry."
"You don't want curly mustards, do you?" he asked. "You gotta wash them thangs in the washing machine to get all the dirt off 'em." I agreed that no, I did not want curly mustard.
"You don't have any kale, do you?" I asked.
"Nah. We don't have kale. That stuff's not from around here."
"I don't like kale," the man said. "I hear it's healthy for you. I ain't never ate it."
"It's not bad," I said. "It's sort of like collards."
"I don't eat them either," he said. "They're healthy too."
Now by this time I had figured out that although this guy was indeed not a big eater of healthy food, he had a sense of humor that was dry as the Sahara and I was loving our conversation. It continued on in the vein of Jefferson County being the best place in the world and didn't I agree? I said, "Well, I've not been to all the places in the world so I can't really say."
"Well ain't it the best of all you've been to?"
"Uh," I said. And then I told him I'd lived in Florida for over sixty years so I must like it pretty much and twice in Lloyd, this last time for twenty years.
We figured out that we are "sort of" neighbors.
So that was not what I was expecting at the Monticello Feed Store but I surely did enjoy it.
And the seeds I got cost one dollar a package.
When we left Mr. Moon told me I was going to have to go to a hippie-dippy store to get kale seeds.
"What? Like Tallahassee Nurseries?" This is not a hippie-dippy store.
We laughed and then he informed me that he didn't like kale either and I told him that yes he did, he just wasn't always aware when he was eating it.
Hmmm. Well, okay.
Hippie-dippy store here I come. For kale seeds.