Well. Didn't See That Coming

All right! Here's a little quiz.

Can you guess the reason that Ms. Moon has been achy and not well?

1. Too much sex! 

2. Inspired by the Olympics she's started to train for a triathlon.

3. She has covid. 

If you guessed #3, you win!

Can you believe that shit? 

But I'm fine. Very, very mild symptoms. My main problems are having an extremely fuzzy brain with no focus, I'm slow as a sloth, and I sweat like crazy when my fever breaks. I have no headache, no sore throat, I have a little sinus congestion but so far no coughing. I took two ibuprofen this afternoon and slept for a few hours but I have nothing else I need to do so this is perfect. I talked to my dear landlord and he says to just stay and be comfortable if I want. I had first thought we should pack up and go home while Glen's still feeling okay but I could not be anymore comfortable at home than I am here. I even got in the little pool a while ago and it was heaven as was the mango I ate this afternoon. The sweetest, orangest mango on earth, I think. Thankfully I have not lost my sense of smell or taste.

Glen's tested negative but he'll test again tomorrow. I can't imagine he won't get it and he's showing a few symptoms, mostly congestion. 

I am a little frustrated because I do want to go out and DO things and see things but that would not be prudent or fair to others. And honestly, I don't feel like I have the energy right now.

And I am very happy with the things I am seeing right here. 

This. This is the pool I want. 

So all is well despite covid. I've had worse vacations. Trust me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Roseland, Day 1

We made it. 

We mostly drove the interstate until we got about forty miles from Roseland when we linked over to US Highway 1 which stretches down the east coast from Maine to Key West. The part we drove down today went from Cocoa Beach to the turnoff in Sebastian to Roseland, right after you cross the Sebastian River, the waterway you see in that picture. I took the picture from the Community dock which I realize now is farther down the street than I thought but it's still just a tiny walk. 

Glenn, our landlord friend was here to meet us and show us all around. The first thing he said when we got out of the car was, "What a beautiful dress!" 
Bless him. I love that man. 

This house is quite different than the cabana house where we've always stayed. It is extremely representative of funky old Roseland, built in the early forties. Of course Glenn's fixed it up beautifully but it retains the soul of itself. The most work that went in to it may be what he's done to the backyard which was a bare piece of sand and sandspurs when he bought it. Now it's a beautiful sheltered garden with tropical plants including papaya and palms, sea grapes and bougainvillea. 

It's a beautifully contained jungle of wildness. 

And of course, there's the tiny pool he built. 

It's like the baby sister of the lion pool! I said. "Yes!" he said. "It is!" 

We've been to Publix and bought just what we need for tonight and tomorrow morning. We've walked to the dock and watched the clouds and the water move so slowly, so gracefully. 

And everywhere I look in this house, I find beautiful things. 

And as with all found treasures, there is a story behind each one. 

The only problem I've had today is that I do not feel good. Something's going on, whether kidney stone or virus or, I have no idea. My life force, as it were, has faded somewhat and I ache in the all the places a body can ache. 
I'm not going to worry overmuch. I'm just going to try and enjoy and see how things unfold. 

Glenn left us cookies he baked, mangoes from one of his trees, and ginger watermelon rind pickles in the refrigerator that he made. And everywhere, gorgeous arrangements like this. 

That's what's happening on the Sebastian River in Roseland, Florida tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Getting Ready

I would really, really like to get out of here tomorrow morning early in order to get to Roseland in plenty of time to do what we need to do when we get there and then watch the sunset over the Sebastian River. 

Now you know this will not happen. I mean, hopefully we'll get there in time to watch the sunset but we aren't going to be early. I had thought I'd get everything packed up today and be ready to just hit the road at a reasonably early hour but of course I have not. I've packed a lot of things but not all. My clothes, mostly, and some kitchen stuff. My meds are all ready in their orderly little SMTWTFS boxes and so are our supplements. I have packed some toiletry items (why does the word "toiletry" still make me cringe a little?) and some different pairs of earrings. Glen hasn't packed a dang thing. I ironed five pairs of cargo shorts for him because the flaps always stick up and that drives him crazy. Ironing cargo sorts is not my favorite thing to do but he's my darling and if it makes him happy, I can certainly manage to iron down a few flaps. He swears he ironed a shirt in Las Vegas but I have a hard time envisioning that. 

I went to town around noon to pick up my dress at the alterations place and to take my silk dress for the lady to take up in the shoulders. I told her what I needed and as before, she brusquely directed me to the dressing room, said, "Go change," and when I came out wearing it I started to describe what I needed and she said, "I know! I know!" and pinned it all up in about four seconds and I'm sure it'll be perfect as is the dress she had waiting for me. 

I probably do not need to pack much more than that dress. In the eternal search for the perfect dress, that one is about it for me. 

The color is more truly as represented in the first picture. More red than hot pink. It's a happy dress. And yes, sort of a hippie dress too. 

Lis gave me another dress for my birthday and I love it! It fits me very well, and so no need to get it altered. It's more of a red-orange and the print is of parasols. 

I wore it to town today and felt, if not beautiful, at least wrapped in beauty. The fabric is a heavy rayon that has a wonderful drape to it. 

I am rich in dresses! 

The only problem I'm having besides being way behind on where I had wanted to be this evening, is that the GOD DAMN MOTHERFUCKING kidney stone has once more decided that it needs to stretch out. Or something. When I woke up this morning, I had generalized stomach pain and then the pain focused itself on that right kidney with sickening familiarity. 
If it does not bother me tonight, I will just assume it's another false alarm. I texted my sweet landlord down in Roseland to ask about the local ER and he said that he'd recently taken a friend there and they were quite capable. 
Capable of giving people with kidney stones morphine, I hope. 

So. I'm just trying to ignore the whole thing and get on with it. 

I have made so many pilgrimages to Roseland in the last several decades and yes, I do consider them all pilgrimages. I go there to seek the person I was as a child, to pay honor and respect to the little girl who found magic and reassurance in the river and the sky and the trees. To honor and pay respect to that magic and reassurance. 
This year, this visit, I feel as if I am going to honor the ladies I knew there, my grandmother and her friends who were all in their seventies when I knew them. I adored those women. They treated me so kindly and I loved their attitudes and their differing creativities and the way they all got their hair done every week, set and permed and tinted blue, and wore the finest of hair nets over their do's to protect them and how, it became popular among them for awhile to wear hairnets with tiny beads in them which I thought was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I loved the sweater clips that they wore to keep their cardigans in place like capes when it was just cool enough to need one but not cold enough to want to wear it the normal way. I loved their rhinestones and their powder and rouge. 
I want to commune with them on this trip, now that I am one of them, age-wise, at least. I told this to my friend Mary Lane and she said, "Well, they're going to be awfully old now."

She is right! 

But who knows? Maybe Glenn, the dear Landlord, has found furniture or dishes that some of them, one of them, whatever...had in her own home. It is possible. 

Magic is magic and is sometimes the result of nothing more than chance and pragmatic possibility.

That's what I think, anyway. 

I am sure I'll be sort of missing in action for the next week. I'll probably be posting because I always have a lot to say in Roseland and there are always so many beautiful photos to take. But what I mainly want to do while I'm there is to take it all in from the white sand road by the river to the way the water makes a gulping sound beneath the dock and the way the crickets sound somehow different there than they do here, and the way the pelicans fly overhead and the egrets come to roost at sunset and the possibility of seeing dolphins and manatee and sharks and tarpon in the river as the sun goes down and turns the world golden. 

See you later but probably not too much later. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Am Seventy And Very Happy To Be

I have had the best, best, best birthday so far. Quite possibly the best of my life with the possible exception of my thirtieth birthday which was stellar in so many ways, including being proposed to by Glen Moon who gave me a beautiful emerald cut diamond ring and my very best friends in the world were there and well...that might have to have been my favorite but this one is coming in at a very close second. 
My very best friends are fewer in number now but even more precious in these later days. And another emerald cut diamond was involved last night but more about that later.

I was so happy to see Lon and Lis. They got here and we hugged and hugged and Lis set to making up the hors d'oeuvres (thank goodness for google because I could not spell that without help if you threatened me with arrest) because she is so very good at that. She brought cheeses and fancy crackers and cherry paste (oh, yum!) and raspberries, and I provided fish dip and what I insisted on calling "indigenous " crackers to go with my indigenous fish dip. Saltines and Ritz. 

And we noshed while Mr. Moon got out the martini shaker and made us all lovely drinks wherein we toasted to being together again and to my birthday and to long-time friendship. 

Before long, Lis and I were out on the back porch chattering like Wilma and Betty, catching up, and the men were in the kitchen, chatting away like Fred and Barney, I guess, catching up too. 
There is nothing in this world like being with old friends, falling directly back into the place you were the last time you saw each other, no matter how long it's been. 

And after another martini it was time to make supper. I'd already made a mango salsa and a loaf of sourdough and had field peas and rice that I'd started earlier staying warm on the stove. I sliced the very last of our tomatoes which I had been saving in the refrigerator just for this occasion and salted them and let them sit in a colander for a few minutes and made a salad with them and some romaine, onion, garlic, olive oil, vinegar. Then I cooked the triple-tail. I lightly coated it in flour with seasonings and panfried it in a little butter and olive oil. It was a very fine Florida supper with food from the ground and the sea. 

Lis brought me a baby cake that she'd baked just that morning. Lemon and buttermilk cake and oh my god. Candles were lit and they sang to me so beautifully, as only Lon and Lis can do. 

Be still my heart. 

And while Lis cut the cake, Glen gave me a beautiful little scarlet box and I was afraid to open it because getting gifts is so hard for me but when I opened it, I cried. 
My original engagement ring with the emerald cut diamond has not been worn in many years because the diamond fell out and I was never able to find it although we searched so very diligently. It was the night that Bruce Springsteen played in Tallahassee in 1984, I think, and that same night, our beloved cat Jagger disappeared, never to be seen again. To ease our sorrow over Jagger and to try and make the loss of the stone more bearable, we created a family myth that Jagger had stolen the diamond and moved to Mexico where he was happily living with a harem of Senorita gatas mas hermosa on a white beach on the Caribbean where the fish were always fresh and plentiful. 
Sigh. 

Since then, Glen has gifted me with many beautiful pieces of jewelry but this ring, the one he gave me last night, is so stunning. I truly do not know how I should feel about it. As I told my friend Mary Lane when she called me for our annual birthday call, I look at my old hands, my crooked little finger, my swollen knuckles and that beautiful ring on my finger and, well- One of these things is not like the other.

But you know what? These old hands have lived a very full life for seventy years. They have served me so very well. Why should it only be a young hand, a hand that has not touched her baby's head as it was being born, who has not planted seeds in a garden, who has never wrung out a cloth diaper, who has never kneaded a loaf of bread or rubbed the back of a child in distress or pulled a weed or held the hand of a dying friend that deserves such ornamentation? 

Y'all- I think seventy is going to be good for me. 

Here's where we had breakfast today. 

It was so good and so fun that we have all decided that this will be our new birthday breakfast ritual. Our server's name was Ms. Tiny and she was. I would have arm-wrestled her for her dimples. 
My first meal at the age of seventy:

Go ahead. Judge me. I'm seventy years old and I do not care. 

Owen called me a little while ago and we had a terrific conversation. He told me he loves me. I told him I love him. "You're my boy," I said to him. "I know," he said. 

I am the luckiest woman in the entire world. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

P.S. Ms. Boud (Liz). I have been wearing my pearls for three days because of your influence. These are tiny pearls, naturally occurring, which my great grandmother, the original Mary Gibson, passed on to me. I may keep wearing them for the rest of my life. Why not? 

Pictures From Monticello

Yes. This was purchased. 

Wag the Dog has the best old records. 

This white cowboy hat with pink boa trim was not purchased but I'm thinking we should have gotten it. 

A lot of my bebes. 

Waiting on Lon and Lis! The celebrations continue. 

Love...Ms. Moon Who Is Still 69 Years Old But Just Until Midnight

We're All Over The Map With This One

First things first. I got this e-mail today and I feel somewhat stunned that something happened so fast. I really hope no one got fired. I would feel terrible if that had happened. I would never want to take anyone's livelihood away from them. 
Unless it was the racist asshole who used to work at the dump but that was a different situation. 

Anyway, boom! Done! Have I gone back to see if the materials are still there? No. I have not. 

I didn't do much of anything today. I slept late, I spent way too much time reading blogs and doing the crossword and okay, okay, looking at reels on FB. That is becoming a total time suck in my life and I need to STOP IT! Why are the bad things so addicting and the good things so...not?
Well, some good things are but not exercise or eating totally healthy and stuff like that. 

It looks like Lon and Lis are coming over tomorrow evening to spend the night and help celebrate my birthday. I am so excited. I can't remember the last time we got to spend time with those darlings. For a very long time now, well over a year, they have been taking care of a relative who has had serious health problems. And when I say "taking care" I mean that their entire lives have been dedicated to her treatment and recovery. But she is doing better now and is back in her own house and so they have a little more time to travel and so forth. 
When Lis called me to tell me that they were thinking about coming over, she insisted that I do not lift a finger in preparation for their arrival and I promised that all I'd do is change the sheets on their bed and honestly, that's about all I've done. And I washed the quilt and the pillow shams too. All the towels are clean and due to Candie's efforts, the bathrooms are presentable and the floors are not a sin. And honestly- what we're going to be doing is having martinis and eating a delicious dinner that I am very much looking forward to cooking. And laughing and talking and laughing some more and if I know Lis and me, perhaps a few tears. 

Tomorrow at noon I am meeting up with Hank and Rachel, Lily and her children and perhaps (hopefully) Lauren at the Mexican restaurant in Monticello and then we'll all probably go to Wag the Dog and search for thrift treasures. What a great birthday outing! This is going to be the best birthday ever. 

Speaking of birthdays, here's what Magnolia made for her Boppy's birthday. 

I need to get a frame for that. I love it so much! The sequins just set off the popsicle sticks so nicely. I asked Owen what he thought it might be (don't tell Maggie I asked that) and he said, "I think it's just a Magnolia art thing." I think he's right. 

As I was tidying up the guest room today which included arranging the dolls and Babar and the owl in the cradle, I thought to myself, "Mary, how long are you going to keep toys around this house?" 

There are also two giant bears who live on the love seat in the library and toys in the Glen Den that the children have so outgrown. 

Let's not even discuss the shelves of children's books I have. A few of them are not too young for my grandchildren but many of them are and how many kids want to read Dr. Doolittle books now? Or The Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew or "The Little Princess"? Or one of my dearest, favorite books of all times which is "Hitty: Her First Hundred Years". My copy was given to my mother for Christmas in 1938 by her older brother, Jimmy. How can a story about a doll carved from wood compete with things like Transformers and Marvel Heroes and Dog Man or Disney Princesses? Even with pictures like this. 

I am not, however, going to moan about children today. We all live in the world in which we are born and that's all there is to it. Just because I loved something as a child, does not mean that my grandchildren will have any interest in it at all. I can remember how very, very ancient my grandparents seemed to me and how meaningless and mysterious so many of the things they enjoyed were in my opinion. 
Horehound candy anyone? 

But back to the question I asked myself- how long will I continue to keep these things, these toys and books as if they were a shrine to the childhoods of me, my children, and my grandchildren?

I do not know. And I guess that I don't have to figure it out right now while can still find pleasure in tucking up the dollies that Maggie did play with last week and handling the books that have given me so much pleasure in my life. Which indeed, some of them probably had a part in saving my life when I was so young and my life was so strange and so frightening and reading allowed me to be in an entirely different place and time, a place and time that was safe and cozy and where the Little Women loved each other and had a mother and a father who cherished and cared for them even through the darkest days. 

I suppose birthdays are always a time to look back and remember. To be nostalgic, to look at and wonder at the way the path has been traveled from there to here. And going back to Roseland does the same for me so...here I am. 

Mr. Moon is just now back on land. They caught some beautiful fish including mahi and a huge triple tail that Glen himself reeled in. A triple tail is a most delicious fish, probably because its diet consists of shrimp, crabs, and baitfish. The man won't be back for hours, I'm sure, because of all the work that must be done when a day's fishing is completed. He will be, as he always is after a day on the water, exhausted but so very happy. 

The garden is about done for the summer. I picked a few more crowder peas today and also these two lovely bell peppers.

There were more peppers but I'm letting them stay where they are for now, hoping that some of them turn red. The chocolate-colored one is small but pretty. At least I think. The tomatoes are done. There is no doubt about that. The green beans are too. The cucumbers never did much. The zinnias are still bringing joy to this world. Or at least my world. 

I shelled the peas I've picked and will cook some tomorrow night. As I carefully ran my thumbnail down the seams of their pods and urged the peas out into a bowl, I watched another episode of "Reservation Dogs" which I am so loathe to be finished with that I will only allow myself one episode every few days. It was beautiful. Graham Greene was in it and I have been in love with that man since "Dances With Wolves." 

He is older now and thus, more beautiful. 

Which reminds me. It's another beautiful older man's birthday today. 

Happy 81st birthday, Mick Jagger. And I thank you with all of my heart for not getting that face altered to try and look younger. Your body and your voice and your presence do that for you, no surgery needed. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not A Bad Day At All

This house is about six houses down from where I live. No one's lived in it since I moved here twenty years ago and the deterioration of it has proceeded slowly over that time. But then the roof began to peel away and that is generally the end of a house. Since then, the decaying process has accelerated and now windows are falling out and it has taken on a bit of a slant, the bones of the house slowly shifting and losing their integrity not unlike what happens to us humans as we age. It's not so bad yet but I have a feeling that even if someone wanted to restore the house it would be more of a challenge than most people would want to take on. Once water starts getting in, the damage is inevitable. 

I took another walk today and I have decided that the key to motivating myself is to dump the all or nothing attitude. If I tell myself that all I'm going to do is walk two miles, that sounds less challenging than the way I've always done it which is to push and push and push myself to try and constantly increase my milage. Especially in this heat. But two miles is doable and I usually end up walking a bit farther than that. I consider it a bonus, not a goal. My goal is simply to get up and out and move for awhile and be grateful that I can. So I walked west toward Harvey's and then turned around and passed our house again and went on to the downtown Lloyd route, which includes Main Street which looks like this. 

Hey! At least it's paved! The fally-down house is on the right although you can't see it in this shot. 

Another bonus of only walking two miles or so is that I can do the whole thing without having to stop to pee. Mostly. Today I just couldn't. Well, I probably could have but I would have been so miserable. So I darted down the little path near the big Baptist church where I sometimes stop and where I had one of the most absurd and hilarious experiences of my life. You can read about that HERE if you'd care to. The path today was as grown-over as it was almost a year ago when I wrote that post, once again looking as if no one ever went down it. This time, however, I made sure there was no trail cam in sight before I ducked down into the weeds. However, because I did stop there, I saw these. 

Elderberries! I know that elderberries are prized for their supposed health benefits and can also be used for pies and jams. I have never used them in my cooking although they did look fairly luscious hanging there from those rhubarb-red stems. At least I know where they are in case I would like to try. 
And I turned around to find another sort of berry.

These are immature beauty berries and many of you have heard me talk about them for years. They seem late in ripening this year but I could be wrong. They, too, can be used to make jams and jellies and one year I actually used some for that purpose. 
The results were fairly unimpressive. But the color of the jam was gorgeous, just as the color of the berries are when they ripen. They are a sort of mauve that just pleases me immensely. 

I stopped at the Post Office on my way home and Keisha was there and another postal clerk who seemed to be mentoring her about how to do certain things. There were fewer offending materials on the work counter today and they had all been pushed up into a few piles. I did not say a word. I have not heard back from the USPS since the second email I got from them saying that they'd gotten my e-mail and would be getting back to me ASAP. But anyway, here's a thing about me- I think I have a bit of Prosopagnosia which is commonly known as face-blindness. I am not one of those people who would not recognize her husband if she met him on the street BUT a lot of my ability to differentiate one person from another is based on hair (color and style) and body type. Style of dress can be a clue too. So. The woman who was helping Keisha today is not the same woman I talked to the other day...I THINK! This woman, the woman today, has neck tattoos which is a pretty darn handy ID'er. Right? And I've always liked her and she has always been very helpful. But was that the clerk I saw two days ago? The one I almost got into a fight with? 
I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! 

Oh Jesus. I feel so stupid. 
Anyway, I asked again about anyone finding a walking stick and no, no one had, but I should perhaps look in the PO dumpster? I did that and it was not there. 

Dammit. 

When I started writing this post, the sky was mostly blue with a few puffy white clouds, la-la-la, and then suddenly, a giant boom of thunder sounded and now it is pouring rain with more thunder and forks of lightening. I am not shocked. Again- this is Florida. 

Mr. Moon is again off to the coast for early-morning fishing. Maurice is far more worried than I am. I have no idea why she worries so much when he's gone. I'm the one who feeds her. I suppose it's possible that she really loves him. I think I am going to make a tofu and vegetable stir fry for myself. That sounds good to me. I found out that the fish I used to make the dip was a combination of grouper, snapper, and cobia and I highly recommend that mixture. It has only gotten better today. 

I did the hem on my silk dress. 

But I decided that I am going to take it to the seamstress, to get it altered as to size. It is too beautiful a garment for me to mess around with and fuck it up. Debby, from Life's Funny Like That , said in a comment yesterday that if I loved the dress that much, it deserves to be taken to the seamstress. 
She is completely right. And so I shall. 

Oh my goodness. We've gotten so much rain the past hour that we have standing water in the back yard, side yard, and front yard. 

And having said that, the rain has slackened and the birds are talking about it in no uncertain terms. 

I love where I live. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title Springs To Mind

I think I actually took that photo on Monday. It's the same Golden Orb Weaver I shot before who has made her web by the mailbox. This picture shows her web though, and you can easily see how this spider got her name. The webs are indeed golden, especially noticeable when the sun shines through them. 

I am SO tired this evening and I didn't even do much. Didn't take a walk, didn't work in the garden. I did something that took some emotional energy though and this shows how weird I've become. A few months ago I went through an online dress-buying spree. I mean, it wasn't too crazy or manic behavior or anything like that. But two of the dresses that I got that I did truly love did not fit me. One of them was actually new, rather than from eBay. I loved the sort of Indian print of the dress. It's all cotton, a heavy gauze, really, and it was just too big. I couldn't return it because it had been on sale. I can sew but some things I don't tackle because unlike Liz over at Field and Fen, I am not what you'd call a natural seamstress. I've always sewed by patterns and whenever I've tried to alter anything myself it's just gone wrong. So I'd vowed to take it to a real seamstress to get it altered because it's just too pretty to stash in the closet and forget about, and knowing I'm about to go to Roseland, I really wanted to get it done so I could take it with me. It's the kind of dress you can wear anywhere from the beach to dinner. But doing things like taking a garment to be altered is one of those things I have a mental block about. It's a little like going to the doctor although not nearly as bad. 
HOWEVER, I did it today. I took it to a lady who's had a shop right near Lily's Publix forever. She does alterations and makes fancy dresses too, especially for children. Like Quinceanera dresses. When I walked into the shop, she was sitting in the back, bent over her sewing machine and said, "Hello!" and then asked me directly if I needed to change and I said, yes, I did, and she pointed to a dressing room where I took the dress I was wearing off and put on the one that needed altering. She had me stand with my arms out and she pinned the dress in about twenty-eight seconds and said, "Okay!" and I changed back, gave her the dress and it will be ready on Monday, no problem. We are leaving on Tuesday and I am very excited to have that dress. I don't think it looks especially good on me because nothing looks especially good on me these days but it will be a cheerful thing to wear and cool, as well. 
Done! I felt incredibly relieved to have done that. 

I got another dress during that period of time when I went a little crazy and it, too, was too big, but it was from eBay and there was a no-return policy from this seller. I had so looked forward to getting this dress because it was a Johnny Was dress and for those of you who do not know, Johnny Was clothing is almost painfully beautiful in terms of fabric and often embroidery. Funky elegance. And this dress was pure silk. 
When it came I was so disappointed in the fit. I think I described it in a previous post by saying that when I put it on I felt like a child, wearing my mother's night gown. But here, too, the print was so fabulous and the silk felt so luxurious. And I'm not sure why but I gave up on even thinking that it could be altered although I'm sure it could be. 
However, this afternoon I took it out and tried it on and yes, it is too big but mostly it's too long and so I am going to take care of that which is within my capabilities. 

I may end up wearing it as a nightgown. I don't know. But dammit- I am going to wear this dress. Look at the border of the fabric on the hem.

You can bet I'm going to incorporate that when I shorten the dress and I think I have a method figured out which won't even involve any cutting. We shall see. 

And another thing I did today was to make about a vat of smoked fish dip. Have you ever had smoked fish dip? It is a fine thing to eat on crackers or even as a sandwich or if you must, with a spoon. Mr. Moon had a bunch of fish ribs that are usually thrown away but he just did not want to do this. And please don't ask me what sort of fish they were. I do not know. They were smoked. And after he smoked the fish, he carefully removed it from the bones and filled up a large bowl with the meat which I then turned into the dip. This involves a food processor, onions, Old Bay seasoning, hot sauce, Worcester sauce, soy sauce, cream cheese, mustard, a little mayonnaise, a little sour cream, and lemon juice. 
I made essentially four food-processor portions of the stuff, mixed it all together in a large bowl, and now it's in the refrigerator. It's pretty good stuff and the fish did not go to waste. 
Owen was here while I was making it as he and his Boppy are working together today on a new door for Owen's room which is quite the project. I got to talk to Owen for a long time while Glen watched youtube videos on how to do what he wanted to do and then the two of them went over to Tom's where they are borrowing his workshop. I sent a container of the dip with them to Tom and also a larger one for Owen's family. 
I still have a LOT of fish dip. 

And that is what I did today. 

I know this is all pretty boring but it is what it is. 

Here's a picture that came up in my memories the other day. 

I keep looking at it and every time I do, my heart swells a little bit more. That was when August was just a bitty boy and he loved his grandfather so much that he called himself, "Little Boppy." 

I miss that boy and his brother too. We'll be seeing them soon. I bet they've grown at least three inches apiece since we left North Carolina. But August will always be Little Boppy to me. 

I am the luckiest woman in the world. 

Love...Ms. Moon