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