Share The Love, Share The Germs, Share The Soup

 I woke up in the middle of the night and it occurred to me that I was not feeling the greatest. It took me awhile to get back to sleep but I finally did, dreaming in the early morning that I was sick and I haven't felt great all day. It is quite possible that I am getting what Owen had, what Gibson now has. They don't have covid so that's good. 
I haven't felt terrible, just very tired and slow and my eyes feel weird and I'm a little achy and I'm even spacier than usual. So I haven't done much today. 

I have started working on this jigsaw puzzle. 

I got it at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus Thriftstore a few months ago. I snatched it right up because it's an eboo puzzle and those are some of the best. The company is woman-owned and made from recycled materials and vegetable inks and dyes. Also, they are colorful and fun and they are very inclusive when it comes to race and gender issues. This puzzle is a 1000 piece puzzle which I don't ever do but I've put a card table by the dining room table so that I have plenty of room for pieces and there's so much going on in this puzzle that I think it will go quickly enough. I have no timeframe so it doesn't matter anyway. 

Maurice came to help me out.

This would have been okay as I could reach into the corner of the box and grab pieces out from underneath her but she was not going to tolerate that. 

There was blood. 

Oh, that cat. 
"I love you. Now I must hurt you." Slash, slash. 

The ironing board cover came and I was hugely disappointed because it's not long enough for my ironing board. I just assumed that all ironing boards are of a standard size. It would appear this is not so. I tried. I tried and tried to make it work but it just would not. Mr. Moon even tried. He couldn't make it work either so off it will go, back to the Amazon universe and I suppose I will try ordering another one and this time, will be more careful about size. 
When it comes to ironing boards and their covers, size does matter. 

Dammit. 

I was so excited when it came because I have a little sewing project I wanted to start and I can't do sewing without ironing. The dress that came with no pockets is quite long and it occurred to me that I could easily cut off enough at the hem to make two nice patch pockets. Or, since I'm doing it, two patch pockets, nice not being guaranteed.

I have cut the amount off the bottom that I wanted to cut and have ironed (sadly, on my old stretched-out cover) a new hem and have pinned it and will stitch that by hand, perhaps tomorrow. This is one of those projects which appears to be stupid-easy but will probably take me days. 

Mr. Moon has taken the afternoon to go sit in the deer stand in the woods but he is after a wild hog, not a deer today. I just wrote a long thing about feral pigs and how they are not indigenous here and how destructive and out-of-control they are but it makes me sound like a damn hunting apologist and I guess I am in that I've learned a lot since I married a man who hunts, and wild pig tastes very, very good. I guess I'd rather eat the meat of a hog who has lived a fine and fancy life being free who was shot quick and clean rather than one that was factory farmed and butchered inhumanely. I mean, if you can humanely kill anything. 

This is obviously a subject which I am very conflicted about. 

I think I'm going to go make yet another soup. This one from the leftovers of the chicken and spinach stew I made last night. It's already got the chicken and celery and onions and garlic in it as well as rice and spinach so I might as well just simmer all that in the rest of the chicken stock I have, add some carrots and a few more vegetables and call it supper. Soup sounds good and whenever we have it for supper I call it a Fuck You, Jay Leno meal because he once said that soup is NOT a meal and that's all there is to it. 

Oh, go buy another car, Jay. And eat a steak. Or come by my house and I'll make you a real soup. 

Gonna get cold here tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon