A Plain Old Sweet Day

You know what I did today? Be happy. That's mostly what I did. And it was one of those days where everything seems fine for no particular reason although I have to say that the weather, once again as near perfection as I've ever seen, did help make it so. I came out on the porch and felt the air, looked up at the sky and thought, "Sheets go on the line today!" 
And so they did. 
The sheets and the pillowcases and some overalls and shirts and underwear and towels, all dried in the sweet, gentle breeze. The kind of drying day where you want to leave the laundry out as long as possible, just so it can soak in all of the goodness of the day that it can. 

I got a call this morning with a number I didn't recognize but my iPhone did not warn me of "potential spam" and it was a local area code so I answered and I'm glad I did. It was a woman from our credit union who had read the report about my card and she asked if I'd like to come pick up a new one or if I'd rather just wait the 7-10 business days and have it mailed. 
Uh. Well. Let me think. 
So of course I went and got the card and it's all verified and authorized and monetized, perhaps even sanitized so that felt like a gift. 

And I came home and felt at peace with myself and my life, for once. I've got a loaf of bread rising and I'm going to make my favorite roasted cauliflower tonight. Maurice has been a sweet girl although we have not had any physical contact. Last night, perhaps to make up for slashing my arm, or perhaps because once again she is afraid that I will die for lack of food because Glen is out of town and she knows I can't hunt for myself, she brought in another tiny mouse. It was alive. For all I know, it is STILL alive, hanging out with the last mouse she brought in and didn't kill. Aren't cats supposed to find the mice that are indoors and kill them? Not go outside and catch mice and bring them in and set them free. 

Here she is making sure that a hawk doesn't come and get me, I guess. I was taking the laundry off the line. 

There are few things in life that satisfy me as much as folding clothes as I take them down. Of course, they are put in the basket in order for ease of putting them away. I do not think I am OCD, I just love doing that. 

I came in and made the bed and put my clothes in the drawers, my clean towels back over the shower doors. As I did those things, it all felt so right to me. Just such a peaceful satisfaction in doing these tiny mundane chores which feel like showing respect for my life.

Mr. Moon seems to be having a very fine time. He sends me pictures of what he and Brenda are eating when they go out for dinner. Oh my god! They have a refrigerator where they are staying so they can take home leftovers. 
August went back to school today and is well on the way to complete recovery. 
Jessie went to a home birth with beloved midwife Tanasia which she reports went very, very well. 

But our Lily has a tooth which is causing her agony. I hate that so much. Not as much as she does, I'm sure. She is dealing with it the best she can and will get to the dentist as soon as she can. 

Oh. And the mulberries are starting to leaf out and fruit.

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

Yes. I saw what Trump and Vance did today. I am sickened. I don't want to talk about it. I don't have the strength or time to type out all of the invective language it would take to describe how I feel. For now I will just say- Fuck them. I think they want us to go to war. 

Fuck them.

Anyway, Happy Friday, y'all!

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Get Scammed And Scarred

Last night's salad. It was as good as it was pretty.

Today was a little more troublesome than yesterday and not quite as pleasant. 
Y'all- I got scammed! That has never happened to me before but it happened today. And honestly, I don't feel that stupid for falling for it because the scam was that good. 
I was on FB, scrolling, which I do far too frequently and came across a very legit looking ad for a Duluth Trading Company sale and so I hit the "shop now" button. I get all my overalls from Duluth and I love their products. They can be very pricey but when they go on sale, the prices go way down. Trust me- I have bought many items on sale from them. 
So, I'm now scrolling through the sale items and everything is organized just like always. I suspected nothing! I mean, I tried to "purchase" a few items that they actually told me they were out of in my size. 
That's some clever shit! 
Anyway, the truth dawned on me with the help of a customer service lady at Duluth whom I'd called because my card wasn't accepted. "You need to call your bank!" she said. Good advice, eh?
So I called the dang fraud department and the charge had not gone through and that was the only activity on it today but to be sure, a block was put on it and I'll be getting my new card in seven to ten business days. 
Pain in the butt. But definitely a first-world problem.

So that all took a lot of time and I didn't get outside until later than I'd wanted to. But...oh well. I'm not punching any time clocks. I went back to the same part of the yard I was working in yesterday. This is what it looks like.

That's an almost-ground level view. What you're looking at are the stems of dead ferns (the snow got 'em), sprouting white mouth dayflower, which is the one I talked about yesterday with the thick and yet fragile runner root, and dewberries. I'm also digging up greater periwinkle which is a horrible vine and nothing like the sweet periwinkles I grew up with in Roseland and yes, it is invasive as is the dayflower and the dewberry and there's another vine in there that I don't know the name of but it's hell to pull too. 
I swear. Last night I googled, "Is Round Up legal in Florida?" because I'm at my wit's end with these dang plants that want to grow where I don't want them to grow. I doubt I'd use it, mostly because of the danger of harming the trees but also, a lot of my neighbors have wells as their main water source and Lord knows we don't want to mess with that. But this is ridiculous and please, let us not go through the various methods of ridding beds of unwanted plants like vinegar or salt or dish soap or covering with one thing or another. 
These things do not work in Florida. They just don't. 

And on top of all this, Maurice got very pissed off at me because I quit stroking her from head to rump which she likes me to do when we're outside (never inside), turned around and got me good.

It's not as bad as it looks. My skin is thin as tissue paper and I'll bleed if you just look at me with anger in your eyes. I've washed it and it now looks a lot less frightening but good Lord. What kind of cat does this? 

That kind. 
I swear. She is a hell bitch. I bopped her on the nose and yelled at her and in ten minutes, she was back asking to be stroked again. 
I did not even acknowledge her presence. She didn't care. 

But I got some things done and my entire bank account was not wiped out and I played a little piano and I picked greens and a carrot and some green onions for a curried tofu stir fry tonight. 

And I picked these too. 

I got nothing to complain about. 

I'm hungry! 

Love...Ms. Moon

What's New, Pussycat?

Well, it's me and Maurice holding down the fort at Casa Luna once again. We are ready! Maurice stresses out when she sees Glen packing far more than I do. She followed me around this morning, probably to make sure that I wasn't going anywhere like the tall human obviously was. And then later when I was outside doing things, she followed me around as I worked, sniffing at this and that, lying in nice sunbeams, and just generally keeping an eye on me. 

Mr. Moon got on the road around noon, I think. He kept saying that he felt like he'd forgotten something and when I came in from kissing him good-bye, I saw that indeed he had. His pillow and soft blanket were in a bag in the hallway. I grabbed that bag up, raced out of the door, and yelled HEY! so loud that I even scared myself. He was just taking off but he heard that and braked immediately. It's funny- I always remind him that he can buy anything he's forgotten if it comes to that but is not true of one's pillow and favorite blanket. And that is what he'd forgotten. 
All is well that ends well, though, and he's made it to Orlando and picked up his sister at the airport and I'm sure they've grocery shopped and gotten settled into the villa where they'll be staying throughout the volleyball tournament his sister's granddaughter is playing in. They will have a good time, Glen and Brenda. They always do. 

I've had a nice productive and yet, fairly relaxing day. It was almost perfect weather today. Actually, I think it WAS perfect. Warmish, coolish, not much humidity, blue, blue sky, everything starting to sprout and spring up, indicating that winter's cold fingers have loosened their icy grip on us. The firespike is coming back after the snow, little green leaves showing up at the base of the black stems that I trimmed after the freeze. The native buck-eye is swelling at the tips, and the Ash Magnolia out front has its little white glove on, a sure sign it is coming to life. I'll take a picture soon. 

One thing I did today was to try and create a little more order on the front porch. I also took a few plants back outside that have been in the house. And I watered them all. I could almost feel them expanding and sighing in pleasure. 

That branch in the forefront of the photo is a limb of the buckeye. Baby buckeyes are coming up all over the place. I am excited about this. That pile of random linens is some of the covers I used for the plants when we were having freezes. I will eventually bring them in and wash and dry them and put them away for next winter but I am superstitious and don't quite dare to do that yet. It feels so good to have a tidier front porch with the ferns hanging again. I have much to do in porch-plant care but for now, everything is okay where it is. 

I have some palm-like plants in the front yard that I planted years ago that needed trimming. I really should know what they are. I do believe they were originally sold as a potted plant. But the freeze hit them hard so I cut them way back. 

They may or may not put out new fronds. We shall see. It won't break my heart if they don't but it'll be nice if they do. And then I started in on that area back there in the sun which is the section of the front yard around the ancient, giant oak tree. That whole place is a big mess which feels so disrespectful to the tree. It is also where the trillium grow which I feel a great need to preserve space for. Lots of ferns grow in there which is fine with me and some other Gee Dee plant that I don't know what is but it is invasive and has spread and become thick. It has runners that break easily so when you pull it, you know you're not getting to the root (haha!) of the problem. But I did my best on the small part I worked on. There were also a lot of fallen branches there and dewberry vines and, oh, other things. So back on my knees I went and worked until I'd filled up the garden cart to the very top and way beyond, and then hauled all those things to the burn pile. While I was out there, I had to go look at the garden which was calling me. The lowering sun was making the blossoms of the bolting Chinese cabbage glow like little suns themselves. 

Can you see Maurice in the top left corner of the garden? She was nosing the garlic and having a tiny taste of the onion tops. 

I went to take a close-up of the blossoms and discovered a bee, having a late afternoon appreciation encounter of her own. 

I picked a few stems to put in a little vase but I left most of them right where they stood. 

I am listening to a book by Carl Hiaasen, the quintessential Florida writer, called Squeeze Me. It was released in 2020 and is a very thinly disguised satire about a president who has a "Winter White House" in Palm Beach, plays golf all the time, hates immigrants, is ridiculous, inept, and an idiot whose Secret Service name is "Mastodon." A death is involved, as well as a very large python, also a wildlife removal expert, stupid criminals, a strip club, a Melania-like character, and a group of very wealthy Palm Beach widows and divorcées and widowed/divorcées who are slavish Mastodon supporters. They often gather to eat and drink at his golf resort and applaud every time he enters the dining room. These women, all of a certain age, call themselves the POTUSsies. Get it? Potus Pussies? 
Hiaasen is a Florida treasure and if you've never read anything by him, you might want to pick this up and give it a try. He's a master at pointing out the absurdities and realities of living in the Sunshine State, especially as applies to politics and the environment.

So that's it from me tonight. August is doing much better, his fever abating. The tea olive is blooming so profusely that I can smell it in the kitchen and on the other side of the yard. 

Tomorrow I will play piano. It will be so bad. 
Who cares? 
Not me.

Love...Ms. Moon

The Boy's All Right

Can you guess what this is? It's a picture of August's feet, one of which is in the bowl he's keeping close for puking purposes. Every mother had/has a puke bowl. Do you remember what your mother's looked like? I think I've forgotten what my mom used although I know it was always the same thing and I'm sure it was a pan. 

Here's the sick kid himself. I went over to Jessie's house before pottery to drop off some soup and to check that boy out with my own grandmother senses. His mother reported that he'd run a 103 degree temp last night and vomited again. She's been giving him kids' Tylenol and kids' Ibuprofen and his fever does come down but when I put my hand to his forehead, he was definitely still hot. But as you can see, he was in good spirits. 
"Oh August," I said to him, "I'm so sorry you're sick. I love you so much." 
"Me too," he sort of mumbled. 
"You mean you love me so much?"
"Yeah," he said very quietly. I told him that made my heart so happy. He knows it. 

Jessie took him into the doctor's office where he saw the NP. He was tested for flu, covid, and strep. All negative. A prescription for a course of antibiotics was written to be used if he doesn't show some improvement here in a little while. I think he's going to live. 

I went on to pottery, the second week in a row of Jessie not being able to come with me. 
Y'all. I suck so much at pottery. It's ridiculous. Everyone else is creating these intricate designs on beautiful bowls they've thrown and vases they've created or tiny houses that all together make up a village, or they're painting gorgeous little pictures that end up as tiles with the most striking colors. And I'm over here, painting glaze on a damn bowl that's uneven and wonky that I built by hand and my painting is absolutely out of the lines and god only knows what color I've actually put on there. We shall find out when it comes out of the kiln, I suppose. I will tell you the honest to god truth- my bowl today looked like an upside-down circus tent that a little child with very poor fine motor skills made. I realized this morning that for me, making pottery is not really the reason I go to these classes. It is for the social experience, to be in a room with other people, to talk, to discuss, to laugh, to commiserate, and so on. And my skills in that department are not as great as they should be either. They don't call it "social anxiety" for nothing. But the pottery class is pretty laid back and some of us are older people who have a lot in common like our taste in music. Today Gayle, our teacher, asked for suggestions for a play list for class. Songs from the sixties and seventies. Next thing I knew, we were all throwing out names of bands and performers of our favorites from that era, our era. And that's nice. Even the younger people in the class had their favorites from those years. 

So I guess what I'm saying here is that I need this class. I will be a tiny, tiny bit sad when we switch to Wednesday mornings because I'll miss the people I've come to know. But that's the day that Lily can come and that is going to be another adventure of a different kind and I will probably meet other folks with whom I can relate. I am finding that the stereotype of potters as rather hippie-leaning is not a false one. And that is comforting. I am so grateful to Jessie for signing me up.

Mr. Moon is getting ready to leave on his little trip to Orlando tomorrow. 
A little while ago he said, "I'm going to miss you," and I said, "I'm going to miss YOU." I told him that it is getting harder to say good-bye to him these days which worried him because these trips he takes make him so happy and he doesn't want to feel guilty about going on them. I don't want that either. Not at all. 

"No, no," I said. "It's not like that. I want you to go and do things and have fun. It's just..."
"You love me more than ever?" he asked. He was teasing but I said, "Yes. I think that's it." 
And maybe it is. Or at least I love him differently. It's hard to explain but I think that long-time couples know what I'm talking about. At least the lucky ones among us do. 
And of course I am fine by myself. Today I bought a head of cauliflower to make myself one of my favorite dishes which Mr. Moon does not like. And I have tofu in the freezer and, oh, I don't know what. Frozen baby peas. All that stuff. And of course, Maurice will be hunting for me and bringing home sweet morsels of mice and so forth because she does worry about about her inept kitten (me) when Mr. Moon is gone. 

My children are nearby, my grandchildren too. I will play the same songs on the piano I always play, and I have a project in mind that I really must attend to. So. All will be well. 

And I have this. No filters, no adjustments whatsoever. That's just what the Japanese magnolias look like right now against the once-again blue sky. All you have to do to see them is look up. 

And I surely do and I surely will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here We Are Again

No. This is not murder most foul and there is no need for wailing "Out damn spot!" I merely cooked the beets that I'd dug up in the garden some days ago. 

I apologize for the blurriness of that beautiful slice of beet but I didn't take the time I should have and blah, blah, blah. But you can see the whirls of my fingerprints! Still, aren't beets just the most beautiful things? I actually cook mine in a sort of pickling brine. I wish I'd had enough to can but I did not. I cooked the ones I had with red onion slices, vinegar, salt, sugar, and water. And a tiny pinch of cloves. When they were done I sliced them and they're in the refrigerator now and I saved the extra liquid I cooked them in and have two peeled hardboiled eggs lolling about in that in the refrigerator. If there's anything prettier than an egg that's been soaking in pickled beet juice for awhile, I'm not sure what it is. 
Okay. Probably not to everyone but I do love them. 

I will be eating these beets when Mr. Moon is in Orlando, probably over arugula with olive oil and goat cheese. Or maybe a little walnut oil. I read somewhere that walnut oil goes spectacularly well with arugula and so I bought a little bottle and it is very nice. It will not hurt the beets to soak a little bit themselves as they will develop more flavor every day. 

This morning I went on a Costco mission. My dear friend Liz (not Lis) decided that she wanted to join Costco because of their politics and policies. As far as I know, they have refused to give up their DEI guidelines. Also, they pay their employees a decent wage. Liz is a person who definitely puts her money where her mouth is which is another reason to love her so much. But she had asked me to go with her and hold her hand on her virgin trip to the giant warehouse and of course, I was so happy to do that. In fact, I was a little bit inappropriately happy to do that. I was so excited to tell her all my Costco tricks and advise her as to what is definitely worth it to buy there and what isn't. It is ridiculously and insanely rare when I can impart wisdom to Liz. It is always the other way around. She is so knowledgeable about so many, many things. So we had a good time there and it wasn't crowded at all and wasn't very anxiety producing. I felt so eager to impart my knowledge to her, not just about products but also employees. 
"See that guy? And see the guy working the cash register over there? They're brothers." "And that woman? She really loves her mama." I think that Brenda is off on Monday's so we didn't get to see her. The turn-over at Costco is very small and I love the fact that you see the same faces over and over and everyone seems to do every job so you truly do begin to feel a bit like family there. It feels safe, at least. You KNOW these people. 
The woman who signed Liz up is from the Ukraine and was wearing a pretty little brooch of a jeweled stalk of wheat in blue and gold. I asked her if it symbolized Ukraine and she said it did, and we went on from there. It has been three years today since Russia rolled into the Ukraine and as we all know, the fighting has never ceased and so many lives have been lost. I'm not telling any of you anything that you don't already know but I will say that this woman is not Trump's biggest fan. 

And then Liz and I went back to the Waffle House and I swear- I have never in my life been to the Waffle House as often as I have in the last year. She got a pecan waffle and I got some hash browns. We both got decaf and talked for about an hour. Since the last time I saw Liz, which was not that long ago, she has been to both the Everglades AND Alaska. Since her parents both died a few months ago, she has been catching up on adventuring which she gave up to take care of her mom and dad, and there is no holding that woman back now. I admire her so. 

I've spent the rest of the day at home. It's been gray and drizzly. My kidney stone has quieted down. I can still feel its presence but it is definitely in a slightly more comfortable place. I am so curious as to how that thing moves around in my kidney and what positions it gets in that cause pain. It's all a mystery to me and isn't it odd that we walk around with all this stuff going on inside of us and we really have no idea until something gets terribly out of whack? 

Tomorrow is pottery day and it is the last class of this session. Once again, Jessie is probably not going to make it. August has been running a fairly high temperature for a few days and is miserable. He doesn't have covid, he had a flu shot, and so who knows what the little guy has? A virus. It's always a virus. Mostly. My mother used to call mystery illnesses the hoopacudis. I have no idea of the correct spelling but phonetically, that's about it. Hoop-A-Coo-Dis.
It was treated in my home with the ever-present Red Medicine which was some sort of cough syrup. It probably had codeine in it. We used so much of that stuff that the doctor prescribed it to us in pharmacy-sized bottles. 
I kid you not. 
Anyway, I hope that August feels better soon. Parents can feel so helpless when their children are sick and running high temperatures, although of course, that is what children do. They run high fevers and they scare the shit out of us. 

I feel like this post is one of the least interesting posts I've ever written, except for the parts with Liz in them. She's always interesting. So I'll just end it here before I babble on even more endlessly about the most boring and mundane things imaginable, although honestly, pickled beets are sort of exciting if you ask me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Sunday Of Much Stillness

First off, I would like to add a little postscript to yesterday's post. My own kids would never, ever try to make me feel inadequate for being technologically impaired. They are patient, gentle, and kind when I need help. Hank especially is very good with this as he does a lot of helping people with technology via phone as his work. And Vergil, the engineer, is another person we have in our pockets to help us when we need it. Owen has helped me before too. He's the one who introduced me to Google Lens years ago and I can't tell you how handy it is to have that ability when I am out thrifting. August and Levon have frequently shown me how to be more efficient on Youtube as we watch videos about such things as sharks and exploding Mentos and diet coke. 
And I think that Glen and I still have things to teach these grandchildren. 

Theoretically, at least. 

"Pickles" generally gets it right. 

It has been a do-nothing day. I was awake for quite awhile last night with the kidney stone issue. I am not liking this at all. It wasn't bad enough that I had to get up and walk around or consider going to the hospital but it was enough to keep me awake. It also brought back memories of the last stone I had and the absolute agony that I suffered from it. 
I do not want to go back there. 
I do not want to experience that again. 
I finally did go back to sleep but have not felt very good all day. Almost a little flu-like. I know that if this keeps up I have to go back to the doctor AGAIN but I keep hoping that the stone will just shift itself from wherever it is now back to where it was lying relatively dormant. The worst part is that Mr. Moon is planning on leaving Wednesday to go meet his sister in Orlando for a week of volleyball tournaments that his sister's granddaughter is in. You may remember they went to Las Vegas some time ago for the same reason. And although I am trying very hard not to borrow trouble, I just can't imagine what it would be like if I had to get to a hospital in such pain without him. I know I could call one of my kids to come and fetch me but these things seem to frequently happen in the dead of night and I would hate to do that but trust me- I would. No doubt about it. 

So here's what I did today.

I finished a jigsaw puzzle that Jessie gave me for Christmas. I feel that I must start another one immediately because when I had that last kidney stone, working on a jigsaw while listening to podcasts was a big help in pain management. And anxiety management too, to be honest. 

It's been a gray and occasionally drippy day here and so I haven't wanted to be outside anyway although while on the back porch, I realized that we had what must have been hundreds of robins passing through, chattering and covering the ground, eating whatever it is that robins eat. We had a lot of other birds at the feeder. Here's a screen shot of my Merlin Bird ID (highly recommend and it's free) that I took at one point. 

I will be quite honest with you. I had no idea we had yellow-rumped Warblers here. I really did not know there WERE yellow-rumped Warblers. I am shit at bird identification so I love this app which identifies them through their songs and calls. 
Another definite sign of aging is developing an interest in birds. I have pointed this out before but it bears repeating. I am not sure why this is but perhaps it has something to do with knowing that our days here are, if not severely limited, are absolutely not unlimited, and to us birds represent tiny bits of life which can sing such tuneful and lusty songs, build such architecturally fine nests, mate and raise babies together, and fly on their impossibly small wings from one part of a continent to another and even further. And at the same time, often be beautiful and always interesting. 
Or it could just be that we've slowed down enough to pay attention to what's going on around us. 

Well. Let's see how tonight treats me. I hope to rest peacefully and painlessly. I would hope the same for you, too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Soccer And Beautiful Children And Also, Young Whippersnappers

Today was Maggie's last soccer game of the season. See her there on the right? She is the tallest person on the team and the only girl. Oh, these Moon genes. We had a good time watching her in the early afternoon. The weather was perfect, cool, sunny, but not cold. Lily, Lauren, Jason, and Maggie's other grandmother were all there. Owen joined us after he got off work and Gibson is with his best bud on a lake weekend with his friend's family. Our girl played goalie for half the game and did very well there. We were proud! So was she. 

Since it was the last game, the kids got medals and pizza and cold drinks. We adults, however, got nothing so you know us- we all went out to lunch. At a Mexican restaurant! Well, Jason and his mother couldn't make it but the rest of us did. Honestly, we really shouldn't have. Not Mr. Moon and me, anyway. We have about a gallon of soup here at home to eat. But it was more about hanging out with sweeties than eating and we will eat leftovers tonight. 

The requisite Owen-Boppy picture.

He has gotten noticeably taller since the last time I saw him maybe a month ago. If that. I just love the way he has to lean way over to give me a hug and he always says, "I love you, Mer." 

"I love you too," I tell him. And you know I do.

Levon had a soccer game today too and Vergil sent us three little videos that another parent sent him of Levon scoring. Three times. One goal per video. That guy is a rocket. 

As I've said, the camellias here are just going insane. I went out a little while ago and picked a basketful and then I took their pictures.

And so it has been a good-enough day. Not one as easily lived as yesterday but few are. I think one of my favorite things about the whole day was simply watching the children run and kick and scramble around that field. They are so agile, so spry. 
Spry. Now is that an old lady word or not? 
Reminds me of a discussion that Steve and Jessie and I had wherein I was saying that I use the old lady card a lot and how much I hate it when young whippersnappers make me feel not only very old but very stupid when it comes to technological things and how I often give them my speech about how "When I was your age," which cracked up Jessie and Steve both. I said, "Now you know those words just immediately grab people's attention and make them want to hear exactly what you're going to say next." Which is the farthest thing from the truth but let's be real- I DO sometimes find myself saying "when I was your age" but not in a you-don't-know-how-lucky-you-are way but more in a technology is second nature to you so please be patient with us old folks way. We've had a lot to learn. 

Glen was telling me that when he was taking the boys to gymnastics the other day, he had the dashboard display screen on which shows a sort of map of where the car is and where it's going and August said, "I like the map to show the actual direction the car is going," and Glen said, "I do too." August then proceeded to direct him as to how to change the display so it would and that was that. 

Meanwhile, every time the home screen in my car manages to get changed from the display I like to a different one, it takes me at least fifteen minutes to relearn which fucking buttons to push on the steering wheel to give me my options and to select the ones I want. We wise old elders simply do not have the technological intuition that kids born after the technical revolution have. We're still brain-wired to the same technology that we learned when we had to turn the TV on manually and then change the channels with a dial. That to learn something we had to consult a dictionary or encyclopedia. That the idea of someone having a watch like Dick Tracy's that was also a video-phone was nothing but science fiction as out-there as flying cars. 
And where ARE the flying cars? Dammit. I want one.

I mean- microwave ovens were RADICAL to us. An ice maker in the refrigerator door was something only kings and movie stars had. A clock radio was a big damn deal. 

And so yes, we've had to learn and to adapt and even just to accept, which is probably the hardest thing of all. 

But here's the main thing that the people who make jokes about how their parents and grandparents can't figure out the remote have forgotten- they may know more about technology than we ever will and they can use it with ease while we have to think about it with our black and white brains that are still looking for the on/off switch BUT it was people who were even older than most of their grandparents who envisioned, invented, and created this world they live in where everything they need is literally at their fingertips, in their pockets. And they can thank us or they can curse us for that and sometimes I truly believe that cursing us would be the more sensible action but please- when we do need help with the remote, be kind to us. And always remember- we taught you how to wipe your own butts. 

So there is that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Very Nice Day Indeed

It has been a truly good day. One of those rare days where I haven't felt stressed or anxious or guilty or overly depressed. It has been so wonderful. I have no idea why I wake up like that now and again but I do and I am so grateful for these days when they come, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Nothing special happened at all. It was cold this morning but so sunny and the way the camellias are decorating the back yard right now with the pinks and the reds and the whites is simply joyful. Add in the purple Japanese magnolias and it's a little bit of heaven in that early morning light. 

I fooled around reading blogs and some news (not very much though) and doing a crossword puzzle and all the things I do in the mornings. Jessie and I had talked about going to Open Studio at pottery which is time when if you're taking a class, you can go in and work on your own. We have not taken much advantage of that. It always seems so very far away from Lloyd although it's not, really. And Jessie gets busy with her life and kids and work and...well, you know. But we were going to meet there today and I wanted to go by Publix before I went and then I had to pick up my bio-identical hormones which is very near the community center and it was pretty late by the time I got there. I walked into the studio and it was packed with people, all looking extremely serious and industrious. 
I was, of course, a little tiny bit overwhelmed. But not too bad! 
I went looking to see if the wavy bowl I'd glazed Tuesday had come out of the kiln and it had and although the bowl's not bad the glaze on the inside is what I can only describe as "nasty" and how I managed to combine two colors that I absolutely hate is beyond me. 

For those of you who have never glazed pottery before, the color in the jar has nothing to do with the color after firing. Still, there is a label with the fired color on it. I have no idea how I fucked that up. 

The outside of the bowl is a color I like though.

I am thinking I could use that dish to bake a little chicken pot pie in. 

And now it is time for me to make our supper. I am running very late tonight. And also, martini time! 

I will show you a picture of a new rug I got at Costco. It was rather unbelievably cheap and comes with its own non-skid backing and it's soft so what the hell? 

So I lied. Two pictures. 

Shrimp and grits tonight. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Very, Very Special Visit

 

 

Well, well, well. 
Who have we here? 
None other than the world famous, world traveling, our-man-in-London, librarian ultra deluxe, gardener, Olga-dad (along with Dave), abandoned plant savior, and reporter on all things Russian neighbor related....STEVE REED!

Yes. Steve made took the time and effort to stop by Lloyd on his way from Jacksonville to Bradenton and I was so delighted to see him and get to visit with him again. This is our fourth real life meet-up which is pretty amazing in that he lives across the ocean and once our meeting place was Cozumel. But in the strange way that these things happen, we have a great deal in common and even have a few people in common, mostly because he grew up not that far from where I lived after we moved from Roseland to Winter Haven and then he worked as a journalist for several newspapers in the Winter Haven area and even lived there for a time. He didn't get there until I'd left, but still- when I asked him what lakes he lived near, he could tell me, just as I could tell him which lakes I lived near. Winter Haven is officially The City of One Hundred Lakes. 

Ever since the first time I met him, I've felt as if we were some sort of siblings, albeit siblings with a large age gap, and we've never had an awkward moment between us as far as I can remember. And today was even better because Jessie, who had never met him, joined us. 

I wanted to take him to Monticello because that's a Florida experience that is quite different from the experience of going to Tallahassee and he was agreeable. We went to The Mexican and had very tasty lunches and talked and talked and then we went to the antique store where I bought Dorothy Ann. I showed him the exact shelf she'd been on. Here's a picture I took of him at that shop.

He was probably getting texts from Dave saying, "Don't buy that!" 

We didn't get much at that store. Steve got some post cards and Jessie bought some napkins. I bought nada. There was a doll...

And the thought of her is going to be nagging me. I did hold her and cuddle her for a moment and gave her a kiss on the check and then set her back down. 

Then we went to Wag the Dog, the thrift store that you can sort through for days. We didn't find much there today, though. 

And then it was time for Steve to get back on the road so we drove back to Lloyd and he really wanted to see the trillium, which he did. He was impressed. So was Jessie. We had so much fun with that girl. 

Here they are in the kitchen. 

And then off he went to drive for more hours and like I said- I really do appreciate him taking the time and effort to stop and visit. It truly is one of those relationships where we just pick up where we left off but even more than that- we know pretty much everything (within reason) about what our respective days are like, what the latest news has been, what our sweeties and our pets have been up to and all because we visit each other daily through our blogs. 

It's a beautiful thing. 

Since he and Jessie left I've covered up the plants on the front porch again because we're supposed to have another hard freeze tonight. 

Ghost plants. 

I've made a pot of venison and vegetable soup. 

Carrots, celery, four kinds of greens from the garden, potatoes, corn, peas, lima beans, onion, garlic, green beans and tomatoes. I think it will do and there's focaccia rising as the oven preheats. 

Here's a Roz Chast cartoon I found in the New Yorker that I feel is appropriate to the situation and and to almost every situation that involves cooking. 

It's been a sweet day. Thank you, Steve. And thank-you, Jessie for going with us and making us laugh even more than we would have. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Memory Post

I came across this while I was cleaning up/cleaning out a few days ago. I had not forgotten that I had it. I knew it was in the guest room behind a chair. Grand Finale was a much loved restaurant in Tallahassee in the eighties and nineties, I do believe. Check out the hours they were open. You could literally go in there at three a.m. and order steamed veggies with cheese. Or Crab Etouffée. Or a good salad or peel and eat shrimp or...well, a fine meal. Not just some late night junk menu with burgers and fries on it. It was located on the Strip on Tennessee Street which is right in the heart of FSU and at that time there were several bars that offered entertainment and Grand Finale was one of them. Students, of course, made up a lot of the bars' clientele but some of us older folks frequented them too. And when I say "older" I mean we were in our thirties, mostly. 
There was a bar right down the street from Finale's called Bullwinkle's and it was legendary. I believe it's still there. It was a rambling place, owned by a man named Jim Smith, a legend himself. When I was in nursing school, I spent a good number of hours there with my girlfriends when my children were with their father. We danced. We danced and we danced and we danced. Our favorite band was called Four in Legion and I have spoken of them before. They were...fucking amazing. 
I eventually made a friend of the guitar player and was with him and his wife when they had their first and second babies. Ziggy Luis was his name and I talked about him when he died a few years ago. He was not only a fantastic guitarist and vocalist, he also wrote songs, was a good husband and dad, and one of the funniest guys I ever met. I still miss him bad. 
But I was talking about Finale's, as we all called it. On Fridays, Bullwinkle's became the place to be for what came to be known as "Hippie Hour" and a whole bunch of us old Tallahassee freaks would make our way over there and drink our drinks and socialize and maybe dance to whatever band was playing and people brought their kids and their dogs because there was a big outdoor area with a stage and a deck. It was so much fun. We'd go to supper afterwards but didn't start going to Finale's until the kids got older and we had babysitters for them. That's when it became our routine, our ritual, to make our way down the sidewalk to Finale's where we'd sit at big tables and eat delicious foods and drink coffee and continue our evening. 
A guy named Cam was the main chef at Finale's and he still lives in Tallahassee. He keeps his hand in the cooking business. He's actually just retired from working as a chef on an oil rig which is probably one of the most important jobs on an oil rig because those people need a lot of calories to do what they do and also, food is probably one of the main pleasures they have, stuck out on those things for months at a time. 
So the point of this endless story is that I have been ready for a very long time to pass on the Grand Finale sign. Missippy James took that sign off the wall outside of the restaurant after it closed and gave it to me. I am not sure why he gave it to me but any gift that James gave me was a gift to be cherished and I have cherished it for a long time but never really had a place to hang it and so today I got in touch with Cam and asked if he wanted it and he said he'd take it and put it on his deck. I bet he's got some truly wild stories about his time there. Finale employees were a community unto themselves and only the strong survived. 

So that's one more thing I've found a new home for. Little by little, letting things go. 

Another thing I'm letting go of is an old funky linen coat thing, not to be confused with my old funky linen gunslinger coat which I will wear until it completely falls apart. 
Before I got rid of it though, I realized that the buttons on it were beautiful and so I cut them off and will keep them which is just something else my kids will have to deal with when I'm dead. 

But who would dare to throw away such mother-of-pearl gorgeousness? I have SO many buttons but honestly, they do not take up a lot of room. And aren't grandmothers supposed to have tins and jars full of buttons? Isn't that part of our magic? I am certain that Owen would still love to go through my buttons, organizing them the way he did as a little boy. I'll have to suggest that next time he comes over. 

Because I am feeling tender right now about people I have loved who are no longer on the same plane as we, the supposed living, I will give you this video of Zig doing Bell Bottom Blues. I always loved his version of it. 

After Four-in-Legion broke up, Zig quit the rock star life and formed a small act called Zig and the Zigtones. Of course. And as life went on and situations changed, he pared it down to a solo act. A man and a guitar, singing and playing as musicians and troubadours have done since time immemorial.

And to bring it all back home, Zig loved Finale's as did so many musicians who played the Strip because they almost never, if ever, got a chance to go and relax after a gig, have a beer, and eat something like steamed vegetables with Havarti cheese. 

I'm going to go steam artichokes. Havarti will not be involved though. 

Love...Ms. Moon