Worth The Frostbite

May and Jessie and I went to get our toes painted and our feet made beautiful today. May only has Sundays and Mondays off and many nail salons are not open on Sundays so today was the day. And it was SO cold that the prospect of wearing flip flops in order not to ruin the polish was daunting but those two would not let me wimp out and so off to town I went. 
It really was fun and worth every bit of having cold feet for awhile. I'd never been to this salon before and it was nice. I had a unique experience there today and I will not soon forget it. Except of course, that I probably will because you know- memory loss. But for now the memory is firmly lodged in the drawer left slightly open in my mind closet for easy access. 
Both Jessie and May had older men salon techs and I had an older woman. And when I say "older" I do not mean as old as me. They just weren't spring chickens. There was a woman there who sat across from us with her shoes on the floor beside her, lying in a massage chair, looking at her phone. She had a towel draped over her because yes, it was, as I said, it was cold. For us. I had no idea who this lady was but she was Asian, seemed to work there, and was absolutely beautiful. She appeared to be in her late twenties, if that, but later May told us that she is the boss lady which explains her lounging about while keeping an eye on things. So she may have been fifty, who knows? Whatever, she was truly beautiful. 

Nail salon techs can vary from the extremely talkative to the almost silent. I am sure a lot of the variation comes with degrees in confidence of speaking English. My lady did not talk much at all but I absolutely understood that she called me "Mama." This is a thing I've noticed about people from some Asian backgrounds- as I've aged, they have become so respectful and almost tender towards me. I remember the nurse I had when I was in the hospital to get my kidney stone lasered. I believe she was from the Philippines and she could not have been more attentive and honestly, really loving towards me in her care. I know I must have reminded her of her grandmother and in that situation, I took it as a huge compliment. 
And perhaps today's lady also saw me as a grandmother, as of course I am. So she called me "Mama" but as I said, did not say much else except to ask me questions about what she was doing, if the water was too hot, if I liked the color of the nail polish, and so forth. When she was rubbing my calves, she looked up at me and I mouthed, "Thank you," and she smiled.
So my girls and I chatted and laughed and talked about husbands and all the secret things that women chat about at times (or, at least husbands think we do and which yeah, we do) and it was a pleasant experience and we all loved the way our feet looked at the end of the pedicure. I paid for all of us because that's what mamas do, right? When I put the tips on to the bill, the lady who had done my care looked at me as if I'd tipped each of them a hundred dollars (uh, nope) and seemed so, so happy, at which point, she opened her arms to me, brought me in for a hug, and said, "Thank you, Mama! I love you!" and what could I say but, "Thank YOU! I love you too."
And at that moment, I certainly did. I mean...I live for hugs and she gave me a good one. 
Boss Lady, from her chair, said, "Thank you, Mama!" and then there was a chorus of "Merry Christmas!" from seemingly all the employees. 
Dang. 

After that sweetness, we went to our favorite Mediterranean restaurant and my veggie platter was so damn pretty I had to take a picture of it. 

Pita, falafel, hummus, dolmades, Greek salad and some other thing hiding under the pita which I forget the name of. At least 2/3's of it is now in my refrigerator. No way I could eat all that food. 
And while we ate we talked some more, and it was wonderful to have May there too. She works so hard and so many hours that we don't get to spend a lot of time with her which means that when we do, it's a joy. Well, it would be a joy anyway but it's even more special. 

I had completely forgotten to take a picture of us so Jessie took a selfie in the parking lot which, I mean- uh, yeah! We were freezing! Can you tell? The temperature was not that low but it was so breezy that the cold air rushed through our clothes and flip-flops. There were hugs and more hugs, kisses and more kisses. 
You know- the way we do it. 

Oh my way home I passed by a yard which for well over a year now has had giant Trump signs. Not just his profane name but also things like, "Hispanics for Trump!" and other signs proclaiming big lies about what he was going to do for the economy and so on and so forth but guess what? 
They are gone. 
Gone without a trace. For the first time in forever I passed that part of the road without having to display a middle finger which I generally do not do because (I know this sounds funny), I consider that gesture so profane that only the very worst of the worst inspires me to do it. 

One wonders...

I have so much more I could say about how that man has responded to tragedies in the last few days but you already know. He is beneath contempt. I suppose we could blame it all on the ever-encroaching final states of dementia but my god, my god. 

The way Trump spoke on his fucking Truth Social account about the incredibly senseless and horrible deaths of the students at Brown University, and of Carl Reiner and his wife are, for me, reason enough to have Congress invoke the 25th Amendment, Section 4. 

Yeah, yeah. I know. J.D. Vance. 
Well, one down, more to go. 

For today's Keith Richard tribute, I advise you to go and read this article from 2016. 

And then, for a bit of a bite of what rock and roll was at one time, I give you this which I have probably posted at least five times. Possibly more. 

This is from 1981. A crazed fan had rushed the stage and before security had subdued him, dear Keith took care of the problem. 
He has said that when he strapped the guitar back on, it was still in tune. He has also said that although he bailed the guy out of jail, he'd do it again. No one was going to get to HIS lead singer. 

There you go. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sweet Boys, Books, And Old Boys

The requisite pancakes picture. Of course. I swear, it takes me an hour to make that breakfast and it takes them five minutes (if that) to eat it. 
Levon asked for "two and two," meaning two pancakes, and two pieces of bacon.

August asked for five and five. 
"Ha-ha!" I said. "We'll start with three and three."

They seriously eat so fast that by the time Mr. Moon had every thing on his plate fixed to his satisfaction and specifications as involves buttering, cutting up the pancakes, salting and peppering, and putting salsa on his eggs, Levon had finished his two and one and a half, and August was close behind. 

They were starving. I didn't get breakfast on very early at all. And true to their word to their grandfather, they got up at 7:06 a.m. which is what time they'd all agreed on last night. And indeed, it was 7:06 a.m. when August came into our room and whispered to Boppy that it was time.
"Go ahead and start watching TV," he said. "I'll be there in a minute." And he slept for another ten minutes and then got up but I'm sure he went back to sleep in his chair. I had no idea that August had been there and I woke up and got up at the civilized hour of 8:30. 

We really did have a good time with the guys. They were so sweet and so loving and so kind to their old grands. And no, they did not run around like little heathens after their baths and I sort of missed that. We read some more books when they'd been tucked into bed. One of the things I really didn't know about grandchildren is how nostalgic they can be. All of the grandkids have shown an interest in listening to me reread certain books over and over again, even as they get older. I read them the books and we talk about all the illustrations the way we always have and we take delight in making the same observations we always have. And when the books are like "The Relatives Came" by Cynthia Rylant, illustrated by Stephen Gammell, we happily revisit the family in the book. We are visiting them, just as they are visiting each other. 

There is so much going on that we never get tired of it and we always see something we've missed before. 

The other book we read was "Let's Eat!" by Ana Zamarano and lovingly and beautifully illustrated by Julie Vivas.

Did those of us who love to read first become enchanted by the words in books or the illustrations or, was it as I suspect, both.

I won't drag on forever tonight. Here are a few more pictures. 

The boys helping their Boppy clean up after breakfast. When he started explaining how to load the dishwasher they said, "We know. We've done it a thousand times."

My flower bowl! Jessie went by the pottery studio to get the things we'd left to be fired. There are some things I love about it very much and of course, there are things I want to get much better at. But I will tell you that I truly am excited about pottery class now in a way that I was not before and that's plenty of reason to keep going in my opinion. 

Quick update on the hearing aids. 
I am growing used to them being in my ears. I am not noticing a great deal of difference in my hearing although I do believe there is some improvement, especially when talking with my grandchildren. We go back on Friday to get things readjusted and to get questions answered. So that is fine. We are not talking miracles here but as I keep saying- it's a process. We shall be patient. 

And...four days until Keith turns 82 and his marriage turns 42. 
Here's another picture of him and his daughters, this one including his daughter Angela whose mother was Anita Pallenberg. Look her up. 

You know what? I wish I'd had a daddy like Keith Richards.

But to cut the sweetness here, I give you this video of Keith in the studio making a recording of Lou Reed's song, "I'm Waiting For The Man," for a tribute album to Lou. This was released in 2024, I believe and I love it more than I can say.

The old boy, singing about something he knew very well when he was young. The man was the dope dealer. Lou Reed was also a well-known junkie but who was able to remain sober with the help of a Buddhist practice for the last decades of his life. 

I love Keith's old face far more than I did his young rock star face. I didn't even really have an opinion of him when I was young. Mick Jagger was it, you know? 
And then I read "Life", Keith's memoir, and, well, that was it. 
My spirit totem animal. 
My reminder that we can survive, we can persevere, that music can heal, save, and connect us to whatever magical process it is by which some can capture the essential vibrations of the universe. 

Phew. Didn't know I had THAT in me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

August And Levon Sleep Over

Here we have the wild boys worshipping at the Pot of Chicken which will soon, under the grandmother alchemy which I practice, become chicken and dumplings. I have NO doubt at all that when I have been dead and buried for years, my grandchildren will remember Mermer's chicken and dumplings. 

Those boys aren't really wild at all. I did ask them a little while ago if they still get crazy after their baths and they said not so much anymore. I guess my days of having little squeaky clean, naked children running about the house are either very soon to be over or are already. We shall see tonight. 

I've spent the entire day at home. Glen, as I said, was out fishing and he is just now on his way to Lloyd. 
The boys asked me again to read them books earlier (be still my heart) and we read an old favorite, "No Hugs Until Saturday" and a Babar book about that rascal, Cousin Arthur. I could not have been happier if Wes Anderson had asked me to be a lead in one of his movies. Now they are watching some TV while I write this and then I'll make the dumplings and set them to simmer away with the vegetables and chicken and broth in the pot. I always use the widest pot I have so that I can fit as many dumplings in as I can. 

Before the kiddos got here I covered up the plants again. It may freeze tonight and it will almost certainly freeze for the next few nights. I took the trash, went to the post office, did the smallest amount of yard tidying, mostly cutting a few dead things and piling them up with fallen branches I gathered. 
I have no idea what's going on but my camellias are not blooming at all. By this time of year I am usually in the midst of enjoying their beauty. Is it because of the drought we had? Last year's freeze? I can't really pin it on those things because I see other camellias blooming away. I did a very thorough check of the bushes this afternoon and all I found was this one very small sasanqua camellia blossom. 

Generally the sasanqua varieties are blooming their pretty little heads off by Thanksgiving. 
It is depressing and sad and worrisome. 
I posted this picture a year ago yesterday. 

I am seeing plenty of buds, just no signs of them opening. I will not give up hope. 

I believe I better go make those dumplings. The boys have not eaten for hours and therefore are at risk for grave nutritional deficits which could cause them to faint and keel over. We would not want that to happen. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Her Smile

The beautiful Brenda with the mermaid eyes. And she did have mermaid eyes today but you can't really see them in that picture where she is smiling so big. I was studying them as we talked though, and I want to see if I could possibly replicate what she was doing there. She had on a sort of sparkly aqua/turquoise eye shadow on her lids with a blue liner underneath, just about the same color as her shirt. It was like she'd used a palette of the colors of the sea in the Caribbean ocean. 
I have a feeling that only Brenda can pull that off however. Plus, she's a master at the art of eye make-up and I am not.

It was just so good to see her. She gives hugs whole-heartedly and they make you feel so loved. I asked her if I could take her picture for the blog and she said, Yes, of course," and I told her that readers have been asking after her and wanting a picture. 

I was in town because I had many errands to run and if I'd gone to the library, there would have been one more. I did not get to the library but I am nowhere near panic level when it comes to unread books beside my bed so that was fine. I picked up a prescription for Rachel and I went to Costco, obviously, for a few things like frozen wild blueberries and Cheerios which Mr. Moon eats for breakfast almost every day. Cheerios with wild blueberries on them. He loves the blueberry milk that results from the thawed blueberries, the Cheerios swimming in their little pale, cyanotic lake which buoys them like tiny life-saving rings. I got another pair of men's Levis because I have decided that the ones I got a couple of weeks ago there are my favorites and fit me best. However, you cannot count on Costco having the same thing two weeks in a row and that's the way it is. They had another style of the men's jeans and I bought a pair and tried them on when I got home and I have to say, absolutely not. 
Oh well. 

Not even close to a big deal. 
I had to go by the bank which we use for our credit cards. That's a whole story in itself which I definitely do not need to go into. I didn't get my problem resolved but was offered solutions (a number to call or setting up the mobile app and trying to do it that way). And if neither of those work, I'm to go back and meet with the woman who set the account up in the first place. 
So that did not feel successful. 
The Costco run went as described although there were five million, seven hundred and eighty-eight thousand people there today, all of them requiring a parking space. Somehow I managed all of that without any sort of a meltdown, probably due to Brenda's good juju, some of which she passed on to me in our hugs. 
Then on to Publix. I got things. You know- food things. Your shelves and refrigerator and freezer may be full but if you are out of cottage cheese and it is cottage cheese you need and want, you are shit out of luck. Plus, August and Levon are spending the night tomorrow night and I had to buy root beer, vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream. Am I right?
Of course I am. 

I also bought sandwich materials for Mr. Moon who has already gone to the coast for the first Gulf fishing trip of the season and he was vibrating with excitement. I think that deep sea fishing may be his favorite above hunting. But I don't know. It would be impossible for him to pick, I think. I mean, can a mother pick a favorite child? And of course I do very much love to cook and eat the fish he brings home. 
Apropos to nothing- were you aware of the fact that it is bad luck to bring a banana on board a boat? 
Well it is. I have it from good authority. 

I was thinking I'd write about the realization I had recently about why I feel such a need to have plenty of food in the house at all times. I will write about it but not tonight. Tonight I am going to go cook some salmon and baby peas and I want to make a martini. Yes, the clean sheets are on the bed, the rest of the laundry folded and put away, Maurice has had her afternoon treats, and for a sweet, peaceful moment, all feels to be as it should. 
I probably shouldn't even say things like that because you know- I don't want to jinx anything. But I don't believe in that shit. 
(She knocks wood.)

All right. I do not mean to alarm you but we are only six days away from my spirit totem animal's 82nd birthday and I just need to know that you are ready if indeed you celebrate. Yes, yes, I know that it's only nine days to the Solstice and that is a very important celebration day, meaningful in ways that even our oldest ancestors recognized and honored. 
Still and yet I believe we can celebrate both the solstice and Keith.

I may post a picture of the man or something with the man in it for the next six days. 

Here we have possibly the sexiest picture of Keith Richards ever.

It had to have been taken in the early to mid 80's because that's when he met and married Patti Hansen in 1983. He was forty, she was twenty-seven and he had never looked better or healthier in his life. In my opinion. They will celebrate their 42nd anniversary on Keith's birthday, which is the day they got married. 
That period of time in Keith's life was a time of restored energy and confidence, of progress and of making babies. 

He kicked heroin before he met Patti. The two of them have two daughters and along with Keith's first two children, born to him by Anita Pallenberg, they have many grandchildren and what appears to be a very, very loving and close family. 

************

From Brenda to Keith Richards. Somehow it all makes sense to me. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wakulla County

That's what the sky looked like from my backyard fifteen minutes ago. Already, the pink has been replaced by what I might call Sheaffer's blue-black ink. Remember Sheaffer's pens and their ink cartridges? When I was a child, back when writing had just been invented, we were allowed to get a Sheaffer's cartridge pen in the fourth grade to write with. 
Be still my heart. 
I have always loved pens and ink and paper, too. And real, true fountain pens make me almost inappropriately thrilled. I have a few, and use them. I even have a Mont Blanc that Glen got me many, many years ago but ironically, it is far from my favorite. It has a sort of lip at the end of it right above the nib that is sharper than it has any right to be, thus making writing with it not so comfortable. 
But I didn't come here tonight to talk about fountain pens or ink, either one. As usual, I didn't come here to specifically talk about anything but I did get out today and do some things so I have pictures and we shall balance the words on top of those. 

Glen and I discussed "doing something" today, meaning taking a little car ride to someplace near, yet not here. We decided to head down to Wakulla County to have some lunch and take a look at the bay and perhaps to get some oysters to bring home. And that's what we did. 
We got a late start so by the time we got to Panacea, which is where both the bay and the seafood store we like are, we were both very hungry for our lunches and we stopped at a funky-looking place that we've passed a million times.
And it was funky. I might call the decor "Florescent Light". This is not a fancy on-the-water joint but we needed sustenance. 
We were ushered to a table in what looked like a conference room and a large group of people who had obviously just finished their office  Christmas party celebratory lunch, had been seated at one very long table created by putting many longish tables together. The decor in this room was still highly florescent but there was a bit of charm. 

As you can see. Our server, a woman who could easily run the world with one hand tied behind her back told us that the tree stays up all the time and soon, it will be decorated with hearts for Valentine's Day. 
Good to know. 

The menu was a pretty perfect example of every restaurant in Wakulla and surrounding counties, heavy on the seafood. Glen ordered a fried mullet dinner which came with cheese grits, hushpuppies, and a salad. I got a salad with grilled shrimp on it. 
We were not disappointed. 

For some reason, mullet has the reputation of being a poor man's fish but honest to god, if it's fresh and cooked right, you can hardly find a finer fish. Whoever cooked that fish knew their way around a mullet in the kitchen. They are a delicacy when smoked, and a fish dip made of the smoked meat is worth the trip to the coast. Mullet are abundant and used to be even more so. I have no doubt that for the indigenous people who lived in this area, mullet played a huge role in their diet and survival. Being able to smoke the fish meant they could keep it for relatively long periods of time and I'm sure they did. 

After lunch we drove the very short distance to our favorite seafood retail outlet. 

Can you believe that sky? It was so blue it almost hurt. Glen bought oysters and also shrimp for the freezer. He's about to build a fire to grill a few of the oysters for supper tonight. He'll be taking the rest down to the coast tomorrow night for the guys to eat before they go out fishing on Saturday and if there are any left after that, oyster stew will be made. 

We drove down the few blocks to the bay to have a look around and we discovered there was a very cool park which must have been recently built. Part of it was a dock that went out over Dickerson Bay and we walked down it. It absolutely could not have been a more beautiful day on the water. 

The tide was out so the fisherpeople we saw reported that nothing was biting but as one man said, who was sitting at the end of the pier, he was happy just being out on the water on a day like this. 
Amen. 

On the way home I wanted us to stop at one more place in Panacea. 

I actually took that picture four years ago when I first stopped there to see what it was all about and to wander around. I wrote about it then and if you want to read that, you can go HERE. That post is one I wrote after an earlier trip to the beach with my nursing school friends and rereading it has brought back so many memories and so many thoughts. I took pictures today but the ones I took which are on that post are better than those. Still, here they are. 

Those red berries are Yaupon Holly which is one of the only two plant sources of caffeine in North America. Aren't they beautiful? I wonder if birds eat them for the buzz.

And now we're home and I'm going to go sit with my sweetie by the fire. It's chilly here and that will feel good. 

I am still feeling the sort of eerie mood I had walking about the mineral springs area which is a place now devoid of people but with concrete (literally) reminders that people once walked those very same grounds and came to take the sulphur smelling water in hopes of...well, a panacea. 

It was a sort of concentrated silence with only the swishing of the palmettos in the breeze and the distant call of a tiny bird to break it. 

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Am Channeling My Inner Child. Or At Least The Inner Child I Wish I Had

Happy Fish, Version 2 was out of the kiln when I got to pottery today. I do believe I have found what I was born to do. As applies to pottery, anyway. I can now dedicate my entire life (in pottery class) to making more and more of them, each one different, each one happy. 
Everyone in the class liked it a lot. It's so very different than what anyone else is doing. Also? I believe that my enjoyment in making fish is evident. I've quit stressing about trying to achieve any sort of perfection. Coloring between the lines is okay! It can be interesting! There can be happy accidents! 
This one is somewhat larger than the first fish spoon rest I made and I put more time in it. 

Barbara Rogers from When I Was 69, asked such a great question in a comment on my post from yesterday. She said, "When I looked at your children's art, I wondered about how a child sees his/her own works. When I was making stick figures and rainbows, did I see them as if they were comparable to the other paintings around the house, or was I thinking I could not make that kind of art yet but would learn to someday?"

I had not really thought about that. I have thought about the fact that when young children give you a piece of art they've made, they don't muddle about, insisting that whatever it is they're giving you is not very good and blah, blah, blah. They just give you the art, you thank them sincerely, you put it up on the wall, they are proud, and that is that. 
I want to be like that! Here! Here's what I've made! Isn't it great?

And even saying that, I feel embarrassed and ashamed to be so braggy about such a funny little piece of pottery. 
Oh well. Tough shit. 

Here's my flower bowl which is on the shelf, waiting its turn in the kiln. 

The way I glazed the fish was to use underglaze and then give it a coat of clear glaze over it. Underglaze is great in that the color you see coming out of the jar is very close to the color you will see on the object after it's been in the kiln. I used regular glazes on this flower bowl, however, and those colors are sometimes not even vaguely related to how they will look after firing. 
It's always "hope for the best." I feel like every piece that comes out of the kiln is a surprise party, all on it's own. 

If the flower bowl comes out nicely, I will definitely add more of those to my repertoire. I truly enjoy making them and they are more fussy and require more careful concentration when it comes to the construction of the piece. 

I guess what I'm saying is that I had a great time at pottery today although my new friend Lizzie is in FRANCE and so was not there and we missed her. Being in France is a pretty good excuse for missing a class though. 

After class Jessie and I went to Midtown Pizza where May works. I wanted to give her the shoes I'd cleaned up, and the greens I'd picked for her. 
I'm so glad we went, even though I discovered that the greens resting on the cold pack I'd put into the freezer bag with them had frozen! What?! 
As I said about fifty times today, "La-di-dah."
She can cook them in a soup if she wants and they will be fine like that although I had wanted her to be able to make a delightful salad with them. 
Sigh. 

Jessie and I shared some pizza which was delicious, a basil-based pie with eggplant and onions and garlic and feta and all that really, really good stuff. We also got some chicken on it. It seemed to be a special day at Midtown Pizza with a large table of regulars who, May may or not have told us, may or may not have been members of the Florida Supreme Court. 
What ho! 

So that was all excellent and we got to talk with May as she polished silverware as we chatted. The restaurant was all decorated for the season and a giant Santa was involved. 
I mean giant. 

It was fun and it was good and I got to hug May for a long, strong time. 

Mr. Moon is on his way home. The roof is done. 

Looks good, doesn't it? 
He is going to be so proud to have his fishing buddies come and stay with him there. 

I should probably make a Happy Fish spoon rest for the cabin. One with a hole in the tail so that it can be hung next to the stove as a little whimsy. 
One step at a time. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Art Of My Soul

Here's a little picture which hangs in my kitchen by the doorway leading outside. I've had it for so many years that I forget to see it. Do you know what I mean? My friend Sue, who died in 1995, I think, gave it to me so I've had it for at least thirty years but I'm sure more, as she was not up to shopping the last few years of her life. 
A little while ago though, I was in the kitchen and for some reason my eye went to it. It's quite a small picture and it's been a very long time since I've really studied it. I know nothing about it. It probably came from a thrift store, or some funky shop. There are no markings on it at all. It hangs by way of a piece of roughly knotted twine and is painted directly on that piece of particle board. 

I cannot imagine living in a place where this little picture does not live too. I may not think about it every day but when I do, it charms me, I am glad to have it with me, a sort of totem from Sue. 

The sun finally came out today. We got a good amount of rain in the past five gray, drizzly days. Everything looks so much happier. It's chillier today than it has been, although the bright sun made it feel less grimly cold. I went out to garden to pick salad greens and Maurice followed me out, as she does. 

Later I found her on the little love seat in the library, nestled among the pillows and the throw, guarded by the two big bears who who live there.

Either she's been in another fight or else she just has a permanent scar on her nose. Or both. It's a hard job, protecting the homestead from intruders looking to take over her food bowl, her treats, her cozy napping spots, her own humans. 

Today has been very quiet. Mr. Moon left to go back up to the cabin. Something about the roof and also, he is going to paint our bedroom. He brought home a million color paint sample thing and after comparing at least three of the colors to the rug we bought for that room and which is still wrapped up in our library, we decided that sea mist was the color we needed. I cannot tell you how deeply uninterested I am in what color that bedroom will be but somewhere in my heart, I am still holding forth hope that there will be a turning point for me in which I can open my soul and my mind to the idea of spending time there and if that does happen, I think sea mist would be a fine color for the bedroom walls. 

At this point in time, however, it feels like...whatever. 
But I helped the man pack up soup and I made him a salad of greens and gave him a piece of goat cheese to go on the focaccia I made last night so that he will not be hungry. I really did not think the soup was very good at all but he seemed to like it okay. The best part of the meal was the bread and goat cheese and spicy greens, dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and pepper. 
Look how beautiful these greens are. 

And this is at least one good reason to live in North Florida- we can eat these greens from November through March. Maybe April. 

So I did that and off he went. I took the trash and stopped at the post office where yet another pair of Levi's were waiting for me. I now have four pairs of Levi's. One the ancient pair I'm still patching, one pair from Costco, and two pairs ordered directly from Levi. Two of the pairs are men's jeans, two are women's. 
I think it is obvious I have been missing wearing jeans. And for some reason, the only ones I want are Levi's, which of course are real jeans, not to be confused with other jeans which are only pretenders. 

This is merely the opinion of an old hippie lady.

I did some sweeping and dusting and even straightened out my closet a bit. Mostly just shoes, finding them and pairing them neatly, cleaning the dust off those which needed that. I swept the closet too which was, if not knee deep in dust, at least in great need of dust removal. I also got out all the leather things I wanted to clean and condition. Two purses, including the red one, a pair of shoes I'm going to give to May, and my boots which I have not worn in years. The shoes I'm giving to May are black platforms, simple, beautiful, and never out of style. I fear that wearing them myself might be a bit dangerous. I used to be able to trot about and even dance for hours wearing them but things have changed. I can absolutely see myself twisting or breaking an ankle or taking a tumble and breaking something else. 
I have been talking about aging a lot, haven't I? 

So I did those few things and I sat down at the piano for a little while and I enjoyed that although, as always, I despair at my feeble, sad attempts to even hit the right notes but when I do, I am happy and when I don't, it's not that bothersome. At this point in time, I am certain that "concert pianist" or even "Children's Sunday School pianist" is not a career option for me. 

Thank god. It's all for fun and all for my very own enjoyment and that is that. 

I actually made a nice, large salad today with some of the greens I'd picked, canned white beans, peppers, cucumbers, red onion, and cherry tomatoes. 

Now if that's not a truly life-affirming salad, I don't know what is and yet, it held very little interest for me. 
I've not felt much like eating the past few days which I am fairly sure is due to what I am calling "kidney stone gastritis." It's not the Zepbound because I haven't changed my dosage and as I said, it's just been the past few days. But I've been having the same symptoms that always accompany a dancing kidney stone and the whole stomach/appetite thing is one of them. 

I am very glad that I've got an appointment with a different urologist in early January to see what he has to say about all of this. I can live with it but if I don't have to, I'd rather not. And of course, there is no perfect remedy and if there's one thing I know, it's that any process which rids the body of kidney stones is neither painless or easy. 

Tomorrow is pottery- the last class of this session. My aim is to finish glazing my poor, vastly imperfect flower bowl. There won't be time for anything else. And so it goes. I wonder if my fish spoon rest is out of the kiln. We shall see. 

One other thing I did today was to water the porch plants. Some of them looked so beautiful to me, especially in the sunshine. 

Pineapple plant, grown from cutting the crown of a whole pineapple and sticking it into the dirt. 

The banyon I was certain had died last winter. 

Here's another picture from my kitchen. 

My kitchen hutch with cards that beloveds have sent to me. 
I believe that a house can be an art gallery of sorts. 

In fact, a life can be a gallery of art filled with every sort of pictures, paintings, photos, found objects, glass art, plant art, food and cooking art, textile art,

 folk art, 

and especially...child art. 

The things that make our hearts happy, that have deep meaning for us- these are the things I want to surround myself with and, over the years, have. 

That is definitely enough for tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It Still Hurts

I just wrote a long rambling post which was going to be entitled "Whingeing" but then I watched this video and I deleted all my words. 

Forty-five years ago today since John Lennon was murdered. I'm never going to be done grieving. Oh, how lucky I was to have been around when he was alive and in love and making music. 

Bless him. Bless Yoko. Bless all of us who loved him and miss him even still. 

 

Love...Mary

Sunday At The Moon House

 Jessie took that picture when her sweet boys allowed me to read them a book. In fact, August brought me the book and asked if I'd read it. It's an old favorite called "The Hutchinson Book of Pig Tales" and it is indeed filled with different stories and poems about pigs. Some are quite funny, some are a little heartbreaking, some are just silly. The one we were reading was a funny one for sure and I love it myself. It is especially pleasing to young boys as it mentions burping, farting, and peeing. So you know it's hysterical. If you have a young person in your life who loves stories, this is a good book to own. 

We were lucky enough to have the Weatherfords out for a visit today. Vergil has spent the entire weekend helping Mr. Moon with the lighting in the GarageMahal. They have replaced the florescent lights with LED lights but with the same fixtures. This process has been explained to me but I don't understand one damn bit of it. And thankfully, I do not need to. 
I am so grateful to Vergil. He takes care of us in so many ways and is so gracious in his doing of it. 
So when Vergil came out today to get back to the project he started yesterday, Jessie brought those wild boys to come and hang out with the old Mer. 
You know I was happy. 
We had lunch which was mostly leftovers and I now have an almost leftover-free refrigerator. Some of those leftovers included chili, shrimp from yesterday's lunch, half a breakfast burrito that came from this morning's post duck hunt breakfast that Mr. Moon had with Owen, and cut-up vegetables with ranch dressing. The boys had what they always want. The cheese toast with tomatoes for August, and the peanut butter, honey, and raisin sandwich for Levon. 

And after the lunch and the story, they got to watch TV and I am sort of wondering if their mother doesn't bribe them to ask me to read to them by promising that they can watch TV if they do. 
Whatever. I love it so much I don't care. 

An interesting thing that happened was that somehow the subject of home birth came up when I was talking to the lads and I proceeded to tell them about how and why women began to want home birth, attended by midwives instead of hospital births with mostly male doctors. And also, how male doctors stole the midwives' power and good name by slandering them as ignorant, dirty, and witches. I even talked about the reasons women started deciding that going to a hospital to have their babies wasn't what they wanted to do because of all the things which happened in hospitals that were not only unnecessary but cruel. Things like tying women down (yes, that was fairly standard) because they were being so heavily medicated that they were not in control of themselves. Things like babies having to be separated from their mothers for a long time after birth for the same reason. They were too drugged to safely take care of their own babies so into the nursery they went! 
And so much more. 
But here's the thing- Levon who was draped over the arm of Mr. Moon's chair while I was on the couch telling them these things, was completely engaged. He was not faking it. He asked appropriate questions. He understood the points I was making. He kept his eyes on me.
It was pretty awesome. 
August may or may not have been as interested but he stayed in the room, he listened. 

So it was a very good visit and the boys got the TV they wanted and the men got the lights they wanted and Jessie and I got the conversations we wanted. All was good. 

Bye-bye treats consisted of dates, prunes, and seven M&M's apiece. I imagine I will be handing out bye-bye treats when they are in high school, should I be so lucky as to still be around. 

It's been raining most of the day. Again, mostly a drizzle but steady as can be. The kind of day where working on a jigsaw puzzle is a completely appropriate activity to engage in. 
Also a little cuddling. 

God! I have to go make supper! What am I thinking? 
I wish I could give all of you a bye-bye treat as you have been so kind to stop by. 

Love...Ms. Moon