I Really Believe I Should Get More Chickens For No Other Reason Than The Comfort Of Their Presence

I had two main goals today and accomplished both of them so I'm feeling fairly cheerful, especially since one of them involved yard work. I mentioned yesterday that I'd watered the plants that edge the fence in the front yard and how bad that whole area looked and so I figured that I could at least tidy it up, pull weeds from it, trim things back. And so I did. It is hotter again but I worked in the shade so it wasn't that bad. 

The firespike is actually looking a little better today since I got even a small amount of water on it. I love that plant for its determination and perseverance. And the fact that the pollinators love the blooms. I think it's doing quite well there where I've planted it, although it would look a lot better if we got some rain. We're at the point right now where it feels as if that will never happen again. I know it will though, and when it does, it will be glorious. The forecast doesn't call for any rain until possibly a week from now and so we are going to see even sadder greenery until we finally do get some. My native azalea, also in the front yard, but to the left of the fence rather than the right which is where the above picture was taken, looks so very, very defeated. 

That's the same plant in my header, taken last spring from the opposite side of the fence. I hope its leaf drop and droop have more to do with fall coming than it does about uh, death, but who knows? I should be watering it, I suppose, although since it is a native plant, perhaps it will survive without my help. That spot with the azalea and the rooster planter and the Buddha and the St. Francis tile, is where my gorgeous boy Elvis is buried. He was my best rooster, my favorite. He was valiant and sweet to his hens, as well as being a gleaming specimen of roosterhood. I buried him there so he could keep watch over us as he always so faithfully kept watch over his ladies. I know I have posted this picture of Elvis and a very, very young Owen many times before but it is my favorite, having such fine lads who are so obviously quite fascinated by each other in it. 

I think I shall now start telling Owen that I remember him when he was barely taller than a rooster. 

My other goal today hardly seems worth mentioning but it was one of those small tasks that barely register and can be put off for awhile but not forever and that is the shelling of the peas although I just looked back onto yesterday's post where I said I'd be picking, shelling, blanching, and freezing peas. 
Haha!

Obviously, I was dreaming. 
Perhaps tomorrow. Who knows? Not me. 

Oh! I forgot to mention that I pruned both bridal wreath spirea plants in the front yard down to nothing. Almost. 

They had both gotten so very leggy, sending out branches that hardly ever had a bloom on them, mostly just providing the greenbriar vines something to grow on. Again- we do not get the sun we need for their flowering to occur. I have another spirea planted to the west of the shed and it gets far more sun and produces far more bridal wreaths. It could use a pruning but I'll let it be for now. Too late in the year to prune it anyway, if there is hope for it to flower in the spring. 

Not to taint the mood here but I'd like to comment briefly on the "indefinite suspension" of Jimmy Kimmel from his late-night talk show because of his observation that Trump used Charlie Kirk's death as a reason to blame and condemn "the left". 
Which Trump and his fellow blind and testicle-challenged followers most certainly have done. 
Somehow, I find this one of the most frightening things that have happened recently in the MOST FRIGHTENING THINGS contest we seem to be observing as our country is being taken down like a giant sequoia which no one thought would ever be destroyed out of respect and age and the ridiculous idea that anyone would WANT to bring it down. 
Of course the Disney company fell to its ass-kissing (I could say worse but I won't) position on its knees when it was learned that the Toddler In Chief was upset because a bully had called him a bad name on the playground. 
Sorry, Jimmy! You're outta here! You can't talk about Mein Fuhrer like that! It's treason! 
Okay. Okay. I have to stop now for my own mental health and for yours too. 

I will just say that I know a woman who is dating a professor of Constitutional law and he is planning on a move to Canada. 

I think I'm going to have tofu for supper for the third night in a row! I took the trash to the dump today! Let's all think about pleasant things like these now in hopes that we can convince ourselves this is all a bad dream. A ghastly nightmare on top of the freshly cut stump of the noble tree that I am so afraid has already been felled. 

God I hate to end like this and yet, it is unwise to ignore the facts. Not only unwise, but impossible. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And Now We Know- God Made Me Crazy! Dang It!

I woke up around four this morning and had the darndest time getting back to sleep. I always do this on Tuesday nights when I know I have to get up for pottery early. I am not sure why because it really isn't that hard to get up early and it's not really that early. But I do and I fret and I try my time-tested methods of getting back to sleep and finally I did and then of course Maurice jumped on the bed and decided to sharpen her claws on the pillow right beside my head. But eventually I drifted off again. I was so close to writing Jessie a text when I woke up to the alarm saying that I simply could not make it and besides that, I had so much to do here that she was going to have to go to class all on her own. 
Which may have been a relief to her as she does worry over me in class when I have my moments of despair. I know she does. 

But I got up, got dressed, did my things, and was out of the house in plenty of time to pick her up and make it to class on time although "on time" is a bit nebulous. People drift in whenever they're ready to begin. What I'm saying is that Jessie and I were far from the last people to get there. 

I had hoped that my flower bowl would have come out of the kiln so I could spend time glazing it today but it had not. I searched and searched the shelves to no avail, sighed, and went back to the slump mold bowl I started last week which is hardly inspiring. I made a sort of braided border to put on the top outside of the rim and it absolutely looks like a Gee Dee pie pastry. 
Sigh. 
I was not a happy girl. There was about a little less than an hour left in class and I was not motivated to do anything. Meanwhile, Jessie was sitting next to me, quietly etching the most beautiful designs into little bowls and then underglazing them and everyone who saw them was amazed. I am not jealous of her talent, or anyone else's, really. We are all good at some things and not necessarily others. Although to be fair, some people seem to have more than their share of gifts when it comes to creativity and talent. 
Not that I am bitter.

I thought about making a spoon rest for the cabin. How hard could that be? But again- the idea just didn't inspire me. However, when I checked the molds cabinet, there was a lovely plastic spoon rest and I thought, "Well, why not?" and I rolled out some clay and used the spoon rest as a pattern and that was fine but it needed...something. 

And so I made it into a fish which is quite appropriate for the house that came with a dock and although the fish is so very simple, it made me happy and cheered me up considerably. I'll clean it up next week and perhaps do some underglazing before it goes into the kiln. 
I need to realize that my gift is whimsy. And that's all there is to it. 
Simple whimsy. 

After class there was yet another lunch out, then a trip to Costco together and then I went to the library, then to Publix, came home, watered the porch plants which were parched, and turned the sprinklers on the food garden and the little garden beside the kitchen. We are so dry. The grass is crunchy. The azaleas and hydrangeas look as if they are taking their last breaths. My beloved firespike which I rooted so lovingly is drooping and sad. I watered it too. 

Now. For MY laugh of the day, and possibly yours- I give you this. 

Lily sent a group text with this picture.

The accompanying text read, "If you guys want a chuckle, I have on at least 3 occasions, walked past this book on the faith based publication rack, first thing in the morning walking to the time clock, and thought, "wow that's progressive for them to have a faith based mental health book for kids!" Then read the last word under the mirror and thought, "that makes a lot more sense." I finally remembered to take a pic of the book bc I thought y'all would find it amusing."

Every time I look at that picture and disregard the "beautiful!" I go into another fit of laughing. 

And as Wise Hank said, "Ha! I mean, if there's a god they definitely made all the crazy people." 

I love my family so much. 

Speaking of which, I just spoke to Mr. Moon a few minutes ago. He is happy and tired and is about to check out of work. 

I believe I will try to get to bed early tonight so I can get up and get some desperately needed yard work done. It's gotten hotter again and it doesn't look like we'll get any rain for a week at least, so I'll do what I can and then spend some time picking and shelling peas, blanching them, and freezing them. 

That is the plan. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Light And Love- They're No Joke

I am having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning these days. Never once in my life have I stayed in bed all day that I can remember, unless I was quite ill. I do get up and sometimes that is one of the hardest things I do all day. But this morning, when I finally got out of bed, I looked at the bark cloth I have stretched as a curtain over the lower part of the window over our bed with the sun shining through it and it brought me comfort. The light made the flowers come alive and I felt I could get on with it. My life. 
Sometimes it is the little things but you have to be well enough in spirit to notice and take them in. And when I am, I am grateful for that, too. 
(And thank you, Linda Sue.) 

Glen had a Medicare wellness check with Dr. Zorn today and then he was off to the lake to nail up drywall. Lots and lots of drywall. Or sheetrock, same/same. Yesterday he spent all day long dealing with the vines and trees they cover in the border between our property and the church next door. And that is hard, hard work. Hot work. Insect-biting work. I do not know how the man does it. 
He doesn't need a Medicare wellness check. He could just send in pictures of what he does in a day. 
I wanted to go get my seeds for the fall and winter garden, as I said yesterday. Jessie met me at the nursery where they had a blood mobile set up for people to donate and she did that. Gift cards, a t-shirt, and a Coca-Cola were all rewarded to her! Of course that's not why she did it but it didn't hurt. 

I wandered around a bit while she was getting blood syphoned out of her veins and I did not feel good. In fact, I felt like I was getting blood taken out of my body. Woozy and light-headed. This seems to be a new way my body likes to react to certain emotions and moods. This all started, as it so often does, in my teen years with migraines. Then an ulcer, and so on and so forth and I am constantly almost amused at what the mind-body connection can come up with for me. 
Almost amused. Almost being the key word because what if it's not a body reaction to a mental state but instead, a symptom of oncoming sure death? How does one tell? Is it safe to ignore these probably psychosomatic symptoms or are they NOT psychosomatic and need attention? 
This of course only adds to the anxiety and depression. 
Oh, it's just a circus and I am the biggest clown in the tiny car. 

But as soon as Jessie found me in the building where they sell seeds, I began to feel better immediately so I think we know what I was dealing with. We chitter-chattered about the seeds we wanted to buy, the possible new plants we wanted to try, the goings-on, the silly and the sad. I bought enough seeds for five gardens but this is what I always do. And of course every year I vow to plant less of everything. How many turnip plants does one family of two need? Especially when one of the two doesn't really like turnips that much. But I got my packets of collards and mustards, arugula, kale, carrots, sugar snap peas, and lettuces. I am going to plant chives this year and also rainbow Swiss chard which I mostly grow because when it is backlit by the setting sun it is so beautiful. 

Nurseries are lovely, aren't they? I took a few pictures while Jessie was still getting blood drawn. 

I could enlarge that photo, frame it, hang it, and look at it every day. My favorite colors, all right there. Cozumel blues. And teals. And turquoises. 

This is a jewel orchid and I found it in the greenhouse dedicated to houseplants where one could spend thousands of dollars, if not more. Would you look at the design on those leaves?

I am fairly sure that may be a message from beyond our solar system, engraved into botanical beauty. 
I did not buy one. 
Sigh. 

Oh! Here's a good one!

I was so tempted to buy these seeds. I told Jessie that I would definitely get drunk and plant them if I did. 

We made our purchases, we went to lunch, we talked about childbirth and books and children and husbands. And then we went right down the street to a thrift store where we found many objects of interest. Some hilarious, some practical, some very much what-the-fuckish? We saw a dress that had a skirt made entirely of silk. A printed silk that was beautiful but the bodice (and it was strapless) was the most hideous fake jeweled thing you ever saw. (What-the-fuckish?) I should have bought it just for the silk. The skirt was voluminous and I think an entire dress could have been made from it, or at least another skirt with the horrid giant fake jewels cut off. 
I didn't buy it. Non-buyers remorse?

I did buy some placemats and some napkins. The napkins are gorgeous. They are labled as coming from Sak's Fifth Avenue, obviously never, ever used, and still as ironed and starched as the day they were probably bought for a wedding or anniversary present and then tucked into a drawer. Ten of them. Damask. White. Beautiful. 

And here's the thing- I thought I was going to be paying about twenty-five dollars, if not a bit more, for the placemats and the napkins and I considered that to be a deal. The guy at the counter rang me up and said, "One ninety six." 
My mind could not take in what he meant.
"One hundred and ninety-six dollars?" I asked. 
"No. One dollar and ninety-six cents." 
"But they're marked higher than that!" I said. 
He shrugged. 
"Yeah. Well." 
I still can't believe it. I love old white damask napkins. They are so sturdy, can survive many, many washings, and can be used for things like lining a bowl to receive and cover bread. 

And after all of that, I went to a giant shoe store and bought myself a new pair of walking shoes. The ones I've been wearing were bought online during the Covid lock-down. This says more about how much walking I've been doing in the past five years than it does about anything else, but here we are and I have new shoes in which to walk. 

I had planned on going to Publix but FUCK THAT! I was done. 

Pottery tomorrow. We shall see if the flower bowl made it through firing. I hope so. I would love to paint it for glazing. 

So today turned out to be just fine. Getting out of bed was a good thing to do. 

Now if I only had the life force of those marigolds. 

I believe I will go boil some tofu. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Not The Most Cheerful Post I've Ever Written

I took a walk this morning. There was absolutely no excuse not to. Cool morning, not much humidity, beautiful light. And I needed a walk to try and get out of my head which was still filled with the sort of dream material that makes me know I will never, even if I live to be a hundred and fifty years old, get over things that happened to me as a child. Some of the dreams I have with the stepfather in them are tolerable and not so disturbing. Some are worse. This was one of those although nothing overtly graphic happened, and mostly it was about the possibility of him abusing another child and no one trying to protect that child which is fairly self-explanatory. 
We are all the child at one point in our lives, are we not?

So yes, I took a walk. It was fine. I found this to be a spider-web magic trick.

It's a little hard to tell but that is a small, twiggy branch that appeared to be floating in thin air over the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection I could see one strand of a spider's web holding it up from the tree above. I watched for awhile as it swung in the breeze, a graceful little free-form dance against the blue sky. 

I saw something today that broke my heart. I've written about there being a sort of bus stop up near the gas station, convenience store, and Subway sandwich shop where Amazon employees can get picked up and taken to work and returned home after their shift. Lately, I've been seeing someone sleeping in that shelter. It's just a bench with a protective shade cover over it. I thought it might be Harvey and when I walked past it this morning, I saw that it was. He wasn't inside the shelter on the bench, but on the ground beside it, sleeping on a blanket of some sort. He had a walker there and upon it was his very large Bible, open to some passage which means something special to him, I'm sure, and there were some other things but I took all of this in so quickly because I did not want to disturb or startle or embarrass him that I really didn't catch details. I don't believe he needs a walker but probably someone dropped it off on his property as people sometimes do drop things off there he could possibly sell, or maybe he collected it at the dump. I don't know. But there it was and I think he uses it to push his things around with him. 

He has almost no shade on his property except the inside of the trashed out small trailer someone gave him and it has no electricity and I'm sure must be incredibly hot. There is one small corner of his yard which is shaded but he may well get so very tired of being in the same place, day in and day out. 
I should start making sandwiches and drop them off there. I don't know. Harvey has always been here in Lloyd. I have never seen him so low in the many years I've lived here as he has been lately. Where are his people? I always thought the people who lived on the property adjoining his land were relatives but if so, there doesn't seem to be much interaction although I could be wrong about that. I used to see more of his friends come by to visit him, guys his age, all sitting around in that one bit of shade, or around a fire in the winter. 

The most exciting thing of the day happened when I was approaching my house on the way back. I saw a small dog turn off the sidewalk onto our driveway and I followed her. She had trotted right up to the door of the old kitchen in the backyard as if she knew exactly where she was going. I called to her and she came right up to me as if I was an old friend she was so happy to see. She had a collar but no tags and after we'd greeted each other she squeezed through the little place UNDER the dog door where the screen is torn, the same place Maurice comes and goes from the back porch, and went right up to the door. 

She appeared to be clean and well-fed and I let her come into the house with me. She did a bit of exploring and I let her back out and said, "Go on home, puppy," when I saw our next door neighbor on the sidewalk in front of our house. 
"Carolyn!" I said. "Are you missing a dog?"
"Yes I am," she said. 
And indeed this was her dog. A recent acquisition from someone who had rescued her but then wasn't really interested in having a dog. Carolyn clipped the leash she was carrying onto the dog's collar and said, "She's a really friendly dog."
"She is," I answered. "And she seems really smart too."
And then off they went towards home. She told me the pup's name but I've already forgotten it. 

When we moved in here, Caroline had rescued goats, a llama, donkeys, a horse, many chickens, dogs, cats, and a male turkey. She also had guinea hens but one-by-one they got picked off by something. There are no animals in her back yard now. Her health is not adequate to take care of so many critters but she still has dogs. And a cat or two, I think. 

I weeded in the garden, I picked peas, I washed and hung clothes, I sewed a button on a pair of Mr. Moon's shorts. I have stayed busy, in other words. Tomorrow I plan on going to town to buy seeds for the fall garden. Mr. Moon will be leaving again to work on putting up drywall in the cabin.
And I will continue to try and stay busy. There is plenty to do here. 

And on we go. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Praise Of Strong Women

Well, feast your eyes on this because that's the only visual sustenance you'll be getting here tonight. In case you can't tell, it's the backside of an elephant ear leaf with the sun sort of shining through it. 

There are some pretty cool designs in it. You just have to slow down and appreciate them, I guess. 

When I got up this morning, it was 60 degrees. It was an Arctic front. I swear to you. I had to put on a sweater! So, yeah, it was the thinnest sweater I have in my closet, practically gossamer, but still- it had sleeves. Amazing. Unheard of for this time of year. 
When Glen and I were eating our Sunday morning breakfast/lunch (there were no mimosas or cantaloupes involved so it couldn't be brunch) he said he'd like to get the gas tank filled up. Not the car gas tank. The natural gas one that runs the stove and generator. 
"Just in case one of the H-words happens," he said. 
It took me a second. H-word? I immediately thought of Hawaii and that made no sense at all. And then I got it. 
"Oh," I said. "Yes." And we both knocked wood that the hurricanes all stay away. We knocked wood as if we meant it. Because we did. 
But. Best to be prepared. Right? 
It is indeed wonderful that no storms have formed and become deadly and a threat to anyone. I just knocked wood again. And no, I am not superstitious but I do knock wood and I do throw a few grains of salt over my left shoulder should I spill any. This is not so much superstition as it is common sense. Do what you can do, right? 
There is still a lot of time left in hurricane season. It ends November 30th and we have indeed had horrible storms in November. The hurricane lilies are shooting up and blooming everywhere which is a fancy, biological reminder of where we are on the calendar. 
Meanwhile, we are loving the cooler, dryer weather with all our hearts, even as we know that something is off. 
And it's not a bad idea to get that tank filled. 

I stayed inside, most of the day, flitting from one domestic chore to another. This is not to say that I really did much of anything but laundry is washed, floors are swept, that breakfast/lunch was made, and I've been very sweet to my husband. 

I cooked snapper last night and knowing there would be leftovers, I planned on making a seafood chowder tonight with that and some frozen shrimp. Well, after I thawed the shrimp. Right now I have the shrimp shells simmering in water to make a stock with Old Bay seasoning, salt, and some garlic and onion powder. Don't worry, the chowder itself will have real onions and garlic in it. I may even throw a can of clams in there. Why not! Clam chowder is delicious! The more seafood the better! 

I don't have much more to talk about but I will tell you a funny story about Ms. Magnolia June. Lily texted all of us the other night to tell us that Maggie told her that she wished Lily had named her Bubbles June Hartmann rather than Magnolia June Hartmann. And she would be called "Bubbs." 
Oh dear god, I was so charmed. 
She didn't know Lily had told the family this, which I was aware of, and so I haven't called her Bubbs, but yesterday Jessie did. At first Maggie was a little bit put off. 
MY MOTHER! she said in a scathing fourteen-year old's voice. But then she added, "Yes. I wish I'd been named Bubbles."
I so want to call her that now. When we introduced her to the next-door neighbor at the lake house, she told the woman her name was Magnolia June Hartmann. And then I said, "But we call her Maggie, mostly." 
The woman, who is pretty darn cool, said, "Well, what would you like to be called?" 
"Magnolia," said Maggie. 
"I didn't know that," I said. And so now I suppose I will try to remember to call her Magnolia unless I find out she'd rather be called Bubbles. Or, you know- Bubbs. 
Another thing she said, this time on our way home from the cabin, was that she can't wait to learn to hunt. 
Ooh boy. But hey- if the boys can learn, why not the girl if she wants to? 
And then she said, "But I want the safest person to teach me and that would be you, Boppy." 
I doubt Glen could be any prouder. 

Maggie/Magnolia/Bubbs is truly her own woman and I hope she grows up to be at least as tall as her mama. Maybe even taller. Lily told me a few months back that she has never felt threatened by a man. 
I don't think I've ever heard one of my children say anything that has brought me more comfort. How many women can say that? 
Not many. I sure can't. 
And the more women who are strong enough to be unafraid, the better off we'll be as a society. 
So you go, Magnolia Bubbs June Hartmann. Change the world because it sure needs it. Perhaps you really need to be known as Diana, the ancient Roman goddess of the hunt, the moon, the animals, childbirth, fertility, and chastity. 
That last one may be harder than the rest. 

Love...Ms. Moon/MerMer

Back To The Cabin Again

This evening's post is going to be short. We just got back from Lake Seminole. We took Magnolia because she wanted to do something with her Boppy and Mer and she's been wanting to see the house. 
She gave it her approval. 
Jessie and Vergil and Maggie's cuzzies came to meet us there and I think Ms. Magnolia had a very good time. We took her to Chow Time for lunch first because that's where she wanted to go. 
When we got to the house, she explored the dock, the upstairs, all the downstairs, and played basketball with August and Levon when they got there and then played some chess with August while Levon continued to practice his basketball skills. 
I wouldn't be surprised if he started sleeping with a basketball. 

Glen and Vergil took the kids down to the dock for a tiny bit of fishing and that's exactly what they got. Both Mr. Moon and Magnolia caught and released the same teensy bream. 

I mean, you could put that thing in an aquarium, no problem. 

Here it is making an escape. Or trying. They did indeed release the little guy back into the lake so that he can grow up to be a big old daddy bream. Maggie was pretty excited to have caught anything at all and I'm glad she got something. 

So that's what we did today. I put away kitchen utensils I bought or brought from my own kitchen here. This is all going to be a slow process but from the looks of things, the entire project is going to take a very long time. I can't remember whether it was August or Levon, but one of them asked, "When are you going to get some tile on this floor?"

Sigh.

Magnolia was very sweet today and thanked us for each and every little thing we did for her. She must really love being with us because she never does anything that would cause us to think twice about spending more time with her. 

I took a full dose of the hormones last night and feel better. Several of you asked why I decreased the dosage to begin with and it was two things- one was the fact that trying to get a response from my OB-Gyn who prescribes them was taking so long that I began taking only halves because I didn't want to run out entirely. Two, because I keep thinking I don't need to be taking all of these hormones and for awhile I was seemingly doing fine on half a dose.
But, between the anxiety and the fact that I am really not as sweet* when I take the half dose, I don't think that's something I'm going to try again. 

Thank you all for the very, very dear comments you left me yesterday. My vain little heart loved them all, even as I know you are being kinder than you have to be. I will try to get around to answering them all. You know I hate it when I don't do that. 

I really try. I do.

Love...Ms. Moon

*Just ask Mr. Moon. I will jump down his throat in a fiery microsecond lately and that is not the way to be. He seems to be taking all of this in a graceful manner but I don't want him to have to put up with it. He's just the only one here to lash out at with my hormonal shit and that is so not fair. It just isn't. 

Me At The Age Of Wisdom

 I've been going through what I sincerely hope is a phase of losing hair. It's not falling out in clumps or anything like that but the length of my hair was making the hairs that do fall out into a far more messy prospect than need be and I was just so tired of that and tired of having this long, long hair that I almost never wear down and this morning I said, "I'm doing it today."
I had texted Melissa yesterday but she is booked for months on out and this was an emergency. So Jessie recommended a place not that far from me and I called and they could take me quick, quick, so I got dressed and drove there and before I knew it, a pretty lady was standing at the back of her chair saying, "Hello Miss Mary. And what can we do for you?" 
You know you have reached the age of wisdom (as I am going to call it) when people begin to call you "Miss Whatever-your-first-name-is." Around here anyway. And I do not mind it. I know I do not resemble a spring chicken in any, shape, or form (quite literally) and if I am offered an honorific, I'm going to take it. 
And so I told Ms. LaSabre (she is way too young to be a "Miss" LaSabre) what I wanted and needed and she proceeded to snip, snip. We talked and talked while she took her time and we have some things in common despite our age differences and other things, and when she was done I was so happy that after I paid, I asked if I could hug her. 
"Yes!" she said, and I did, and it was a very fine hug. 
And so that's what my hair looks like now, still long enough to put up but not ridiculously and uselessly long, and my white hair shows up better which I love and it just feels so good. 
Now. If Ms. LaSabre could just do something about my face and neck...
Well. That is what it is and I really cannot foresee going to any plastic surgeons so it's only going to get worse from here and La-Di-Dah. 

I had other errands to run in town. Publix and Costco, mainly. I ran by to see Lily at work and you know I love that. I felt so much lighter with this new hair, not like weight-wise but like spirit-wise. Why has it taken me so long to do this? 
The last time my hair was this short was when I played Truvy in a production of Steel Magnolias at the Monticello Opera House fourteen years ago. 
Damn. 
I also got my hair dyed red then because why the hell not? I loved being a redhead for awhile. 

Here's another picture from that same timeframe taken in my backyard at the wedding of two people I called The Lovers.

All of those people were my friends from the Opera House. The teddy bear represented our darling Colin who had died recently, and since then, Jan, the bride, Jack, the groom, and Kathleen, who is holding the bear, have also gone over to wherever the energy place is. So much loss. Not just for me, of course, but for the entire community and also, the world. 

The link to that post is HERE, although it has nothing to do with the haircut I got today. It does explain the teddy bear in case you're curious. 

You know how my brain works. 
Or doesn't. 

That was the main thing that happened to me today. I got relieved of inches of something I did not need nor want anymore. Glen says he likes it. I hope he's telling me the truth. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. This is who I am now. 

As you may note, I was having a hot flash which brings to mind something I figured out today. I think my recent, rather unexplained anxiety has been caused because once again I have tried taking half the amount of hormones I have been taking for years and although I thought everything was going along quite well, this is never a good idea. I will be increasing the dosage this very evening. 

Of course there are still a million reasons to be anxious, to be depressed but if I do not have to be anxious in that free-floating constant way, I will do whatever it takes. 

Better living through chemicals, my friends. 

Line dried sheets on the bed. Martinis being enjoyed. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Attempted Dirt Therapy

Believe it or not, this is the "after" picture of what the little area off the kitchen porch looked like today when I'd spent about an hour working on it. I do not even try to pretend it looks good. There's too much going on in there, none of it really what I want, except for possibly the bananas and they have not only not gotten close to putting out any blossoms or fruit this year, their leaves are already dying back and falling off. I gathered those up and cut more that were yellow and browning. I have no idea why this is happening. We got a lot of rain earlier in the summer but right now we are so dry. You can see how shriveled the pinecone lilies there are. A main problem with that bed is that the outside "border" has spread into a wide, squat jungle of liriope, chenille plant, Virginia creeper, grass sedge (I think), and other assorted unidentified vines and crap. The chenille plant has taken over that entire part of the yard and Mr. Moon just mows it where he can but he can't mow it everywhere. It's not hard to pull up but it's next to impossible to pull out, as its vine-like roots break off and will sprout themselves. I have just looked this plant up and ours is actually dwarf chenille plant which is grown as ground cover, and baby, does it ever cover some ground. I also read that it is not invasive which may be true in other regions. I swear, I never saw this plant until about seven years ago when it seemingly sprang up out of nowhere. 
Anyway. What was I talking about? Oh yes. The kitchen garden area. It looked a lot better when I had chickens. I would often throw kitchen scraps out there and they would eat what they wanted and scratch what they didn't want into the dirt, creating a nice source of organic material, and of course, they pooped as they worked and chicken poop is a very fine fertilizer. You should have seen the earthworms in there! 

Oh, the good old days. 

There are also roses in that bed which, as I weed around them, pierce my skin no matter how much I try to avoid them. If it's not Maurice, it's roses. So it's not really my happy place and I should pull everything in there and start again. 
Easier said than done for sure though. 

I turned a sprinkler on after I'd finished and hopefully, it will look somewhat better by tomorrow. I also watered the peas and the basils in the garden which, besides the marigolds, are the only things growing in there. Oh. Roses. They're growing. 

And then I decided to try and clean up some of the area beside the house between the kitchen porch and the front porch. I have a camellia there which I pruned back a little and some hydrangea which don't do a damn thing except give me a few extremely unimpressive flowers every spring, some iron plants that I may or may not have planted myself, and more of the same shit I'd just pulled up in the bed with the bananas as well as a healthy dose of crocosmia. 

I was hoping that doing this dirt work would help tamp down the anxiety and I guess it did but no, actually, it did not. I can't lie. I think the calmest moment I've had all day was when I turned off the sprinklers in the garden and took a few minutes to just look at the way the water had sparkled and spangled the peas and the herbs and the roses and the marigolds. Those moments allowed me to let it all go in a sort of micro-meditation and that was lovely. I could feel the plants beaming about the water they'd received. I truly felt I could. 

Before I turned the sprinklers on, I finally got an almost halfway decent/kind of blurry photo of a bee on the African basil. 

I see more there every day. 

If all I do in a day is to take care of plants that attract bees, I have not entirely wasted it. At least that's what I am telling myself. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Anxiety

Here we have my flower bowl and if it survives its first firing, I think I will have a good time glazing it. Although I know less than a micro-dose about glazing. There's glazing and underglazing and underglazing transfers and so much more. SO MUCH MORE! You can dip your pieces in glaze or you can paint it on. You can do anything. 
Well, theoretically. 
Here's what the bowls on the how-to video I watched looked like when they had been decorated and fired by the woman who does the video. 

Trust me when I say my bowl is not going to look like either of those. So far everything I've glazed has been done in a red-hot hurry, trying to get them ready for the kiln at the last possible moment. And it shows. And then there's always the possibility that the piece won't make it through the firing process. Cracking does happen. 

I was so anxious before class. I've been anxious the last few days. Just unexplained constant anxiety and I do not like this. When I'm going through this, even the smallest things and even mere thoughts cause me anxiety. Anxiety, like its evil twin, depression, can take away all pleasure in life or at least more of it than I'm willing to voluntarily give up. Logic has nothing to do with this sort of anxiety and it's like a lint roller, picking up and removing all of the sweetness in life. It's the Chicken Little phenomenon. The sky is always falling. And even though I know it's not, my gut tells me it is and if it's not falling right this second, it will be soon. I sure as shit hope this goes away quickly. But yes, I was anxious before class and I was anxious in class and I am anxious right this second. This is not the unbearable type of anxiety and thank all the gods for that. It's just very uncomfortable but at least I know what it is. 

After pottery Jessie and I met Lily and Lauren and Mr. Moon at the Wharf for lunch and that was a good time. My emotions stabilized for a few moments and I was able to laugh with my kids and I know they understand. I don't think Mr. Moon does, not really, but he has a clue after all these years with me and he has actually gone through some periods of anxiety in his life too. 

I think he's going through one right this second. Floyd came over to discuss things like the priorities we have when it comes to repairs and painting and so forth as well as estimates of what all of this may cost. The windows being replaced alone is going to cost a fortune. That's just the way it is. You cannot believe how much one window and its installation costs. And that won't even be Floyd's work. Well, possibly the installation will be although he said it would probably be cheaper to have a window company do it. 
I like his honesty. 
In Florida you have to buy impact resistant windows or you can't get a work permit. Hurricanes, you know. And this does make sense. But it only adds to the overall cost. And Lord, we have a lot of windows in this house. 
Oh god. So I know Glen's going through Floyd's figures right this second with a pen in his hand to make notes of all the questions he has. That's just the way he is. 

And this is why Mr. Moon did not want to buy this house in the first place and which he only did because I so desperately wanted it. And I did so desperately want it and I do so desperately love it. 

Hank and Rachel are not having an easy time of it with this strain of Covid. I have discovered that in Florida, because Florida has a fucked up and cruel and ignorant governor, unless you're over 65 you will need a prescription to get the vaccine and even if you ARE over 65, it won't be available until after September 18th unless you get a prescription at which point you can get the shot at CVS. Not Publix, though. I think you can drive to Georgia and go to a Publix there and get it. I want the damn vaccine and I want it now. But I suppose we can wait another eight days. I hear that half the staff at Dr. Zorn's office is out with the virus and Jessie says many nurses are out because of having it. And from what I hear, this is quite different from the strain Glen and I had last year which was so very mild. 

I just wonder how many people are going to die if we get another new virus like Covid or a more deadly strain of that, under our current Secretary of Health. Not just because the vaccine will not be available to all but because the CDC has been so decimated that the odds of a vaccine being developed in time to prevent those deaths will be seriously low. 

God. No wonder I'm anxious. If I wasn't, there would be something wrong with me. 

I have GOT to go make supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pictures

I sent this picture to Mr. Moon last night with the text, "I think it's time for you to come home."

This book means a whole lot to me. Thank you, Sarah. 

The martini glasses and blue vase I did not buy on Saturday but went back today and got. 

Every last piece in its proper place. 

What Floyd and Sam have accomplished so far. It looks better already. 

And Mr. Moon is home. I did cry. 

Let's see if I can remember how to make supper for two.

Love...Ms. Moon

Apocalypso

It seems to be the time of year for red flowers and yellow flowers. My roses have just put out new bloom and I was shocked to see them. I've brought some into the house because they smell so good. I noticed them when I was out in the garden trimming back my Mexican basil because all of its blooms have died, probably from lack of water. 

The sad Mexican basil. 

Or because I moved them. I'm not sure. Only the African basil that I started from two or three tiny sprigs I rooted from a plant of Rachel's is really looking robust and thrilled to be alive. 

African basil.

Bloom of the African basil. 

This time last year the pollinators were thick on the Mexican basil. They were waiting in line to to take their turns at the blooms. I have a few on the African basil and a few on the Thai basil but nothing at all like the bees I was seeing last year. 
And now I have just looked up whether or not pruning basil encourages more flowering and no, it does not. 
Well, hell. Probably should have studied that before I got out the pruners. 

This feels an appropriate thing for me to have done today, meaning, the exact wrong thing to do. I have not felt well all day, the kidney stone situation going into its next phase of fucking around with me which is to cause mild lower abdomen pain and even less of the desire to eat along with a general feeling of malaise and simply not feeling good. When this happens I always think of people who suffer chronic illness or chronic pain and I feel like such a baby for whining about these issues which come and then go. So I'll shut up about it for right now.

Glen has made it safely back to the good old fucked up USA, having landed in Nashville late this afternoon. He'll probably get up early tomorrow morning and hopefully will be home tomorrow in time for supper. I may well burst into tears when I see him. 

I took Rachel and Hank their soup today along with a few other things they needed or that I thought they might want. And I have not yet mentioned the most Very Important Thing that happened today which is that Floyd and his son, Sam, have begun work on the house. They came this morning and got right to work on the place outside the laundry room which needs siding replaced and probably around the window too, and oh, god, who knows what else? As glad as I am that this project is finally happening, I know it's going to be a very trying time, having work done on the house for who-knows-how-long? 
Well, one more thing to learn to accept, I suppose. The work has to be done and there is no magical way to make it happen fast. 

Here's what the pine cone lily's bloom looks like now. 

This is a fascinating member of the ginger lily family.  

As I say every year, the lily is also known as the "shampoo lily" because traditionally, the liquid in them is used as shampoo. And no, I've never tried it. I'm sure that if the Trumpalypse occurs we will indeed be using them although how we'll be getting water to rinse the shampoo out is beyond me. 

And as I was outside, taking pictures of the same hurricane lily I posted the other day in its next stage of bloom, 

I looked up to see a different one, fully opened.

And yes, the wood behind it needs to be replaced too. Perhaps I better just get that lake house the way I'd like it to be and move there for a year or so while the work here is going on. 

Yeah. Probably not. 

Okay. That's enough self-pity for one day, especially coming from a person who has every damn thing in the world and whose husband is coming home tomorrow. 

I'll leave you with a song that Jimmy Buffett wrote and performed on his album "Fruitcakes" which was released in 1994 and which pretty much, along with being able to live across the street for a summer from the Gulf of MEXICO, gave me reason to live after my friend Sue died. I don't expect a one of you to listen to it. But I will tell you that the memories I have of living in a tiny "apartment" in a cement brick building with a yard full of nothing but rocks and sandspurs and being that close to the Gulf which at that time, had no houses between it and the water, being able to see the Milky Way over the Gulf at night, the dolphins every morning and afternoon as I walked the beach with Lily and Jessie, brought me back to something resembling whole, and listening and dancing to "Fruitcakes" was a huge part of all of that. 

This is the song I would listen to when we crossed the bridge from East Point to St. George Island with the windows on my mom-van down, the seagulls screaming their bitchy demands, the pelicans floating by on the air currents, occasionally flapping their prehistoric dinosaur wings, the water below, the sky above, my heart joyful to be back by the ocean, a thing Jimmy Buffett loved and knew a hell of a lot about. 

Love...Ms. Moon