I Step Out Of Lloyd And It Is Good

What a beautiful day! I wore my jeans and the beautiful red silk-velvet shirt that Jessie gave me and the incredibly cool fringed leather jacket that Lis gave me and silver jewelry and we drove to the coast on the most perfect fall day and the wild flowers were golden and the cypress trees are turning gold and red and oh, Florida. Florida. Sometimes she just breaks my heart with her beauty.

We stopped in Newport for boiled peanuts because Jessie cannot pass up the boiled peanuts. She and her daddy...

Her mama has a fondness for them too and let me just say- they were very, very decent boiled peanuts. I remember her grandfather telling me that the best meal in the world was boiled peanuts and a Coors Light, enjoyed while on the way to the beach. 

Oh, how I miss that man. So full of joy and life. 

He would have loved that drive we took today.

We got to Apalach right in time for lunch and we first drove to a river-side place but then we decided to just go all crazy and eat at a chi-chi place DOWNTOWN (which was a block away) and we went to the Owl Cafe where I have had many beautiful meals with my sweetie. Our server was one I've had before and by the time lunch was over, he was saying, "I love y'all," and he didn't say it like, "I LOVE y'all!" but more tenderly and sweetly like, "I love y'all," and hell yes, he got a great tip. Here's Miss Jessie with her salad of Mediterranean vegetables with grilled shrimp. 

I got some sort of grilled grouper sandwich and it was wonderful. 

We did a little shopping because you must. We went to two bookstores. The first one we went to is the one that sells new books run by the woman who, when I move to Apalachicola, I hope becomes one of my best friends. Not only does she sell books but she also sells the most beautiful yarns you've ever seen or touched as well as bamboo and wooden knitting needles and crochet hooks. Jessie bought two dark-turquoise skeins of silk and bamboo yarn and I bought a book. There will be a picture later. I told my future-really-good-friend that I'd read a book recently that I thought she'd like and had she read it? Kate Atkinson's Life After Life.

"Yes!" she said. And she'd loved it and she seemed to be very happy that I'd thought of her when I read it. 

I can't wait to learn her name. 

We went to River Lily, the best shop in the entire South Eastern geographical area. We walked around looking and smelling and touching and testing and Jessie tried on some things and bought a soft cotton robe. She may or may not have bought Kathleen something. 

It's the sort of place which inspires you to say, "Just pack it all up and ship it to my house."

You want all of the clothes and the earrings and bracelets and necklaces and the wall hangings and mermaid things and candles and soaps and fragrances and ornaments of birds and fishes and chickens and the cards and the lamps and the bells and the socks and the hats and...oh god. I don't even know. 

We also went to the place where they sell the clothes that make me go around saying things like, "I hate Johnny Was. I hate Free People," etc. because everything is so expensive and beautiful and Jessie bought a shirt on the half-price rack and I'm so glad she did. I found some boots that I held up to my face and sniffed like a damn pervert because the leather was so soft  and they smelled like heaven and I've looked them up on the internet and I am in serious love. 

My heart aches for some of these things. My heart breaks for some of these things. 

Like these.

The web site is www.bedstu.com and if they want to give me something for free I'll gladly be a whore for them. I'll shill until the cows come home. 

But of course they won't. Dammit. 

Then we went to the bookstore ( a little town with TWO bookstores!) which specializes in Florida history and pre-owned books where the anniversary copy of the The Wrath and the Wind was waiting. And I bought it and I feel so rich. Here are my two books. 

We stopped in the new Brewery (BREWERY!) and Jessie bought a growler to take home for Vergil. 

This is the place that when Mr. Moon and I first started going to Apalachicola thirty years ago was a real-true fishing-folks' bar and then became a sort of fancy-pants-but-still-friendly-to-all-bar and before all of that, was a bank. And now it's filled with stainless steel and gauges and it truly is amazing and strange to me how much Apalachicola has changed over the years while still managing to retain salt and grits. The bridge over the river still arcs and curves like the back of a dinosaur, the sunlight still diamond dances on the bay, the shrimp boats still tie off at the docks. 

On the way home we stopped at one of my favorite places to buy seafood and I was thrilled to find rock shrimp. If you've never eaten a rock shrimp, I feel sorry for you. They are like tiny lobsters with plated shells. They make you work for your bite of sweet meat. You can't hate them for that. 

These rock shrimp are especially large and I'm going to have some for my supper tonight. Should I boil them? Steam them? Split their shells, brush them with butter and broil them? 

Whatever, they are going to be eaten with Crystal hot sauce and boiled potatoes and a spinach salad. 

When Jessie and I pulled into Apalach we were listening to Oyster Radio, 100.5 on your FM dial and Bruce was playing Cover Me which is one of the most intensely sexual songs ever written. 

We listened to the whole thing and when it was almost done, Jessie said, "I get Bruce."

It was a a beautiful mommy-daughter bonding moment. 

Which was not the first and not the last. God but I love having grown up kids. 

Here's an older Bruce doing the song.

I told Jessie the story about how when her daddy and I went to see him in 1984 and he did this song which was one of my favorites off his album Born In The USA, we left our seats and went down as close to the stage as we could get before security approached us and how her daddy kept that guy occupied with bullshit and bluster until Bruce had finished the song.

Which allowed me to melt and meld into the energy which was Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

Dang. I'm hungry. Time to go cook some rock shrimp and boil some potatoes.

Tomorrow: Pedicures and lunch with all the daughters.

Mmmmmm....

Life does not suck.

Love...Ms. Moon

Trip Report

I swear to you- this was the very best weekend I can remember. It was just splendid in every way. Even my little bout of illness was such a good thing. Can that be? Yes. It was. After I took the Ibuprofen and the fever and pain went away, I was, as I said, in the most languid and delicious of states. It was truly almost a narcotic feeling. I was spacey and had no anxiety and in fact, had possibly the opposite of anxiety and was just completely happy and accepting of whatever came my way and delightful things came my way every moment.
Lis and I spent at least an hour in River Lily, the shop with this mermaid, which you have seen before, I am sure.

We looked at everything and everything was worth looking at from the vast, beautiful array of earrings to the soaps and scents and the Christmas ornaments and when I say "Christmas ornaments" you have to imagine things like sting-ray ornaments and manatee ornaments and the most beautiful of fishes and birds and King Neptune and bats and things I would (and have, to a degree) hang all over my house. We looked at clothes and hair ornaments and necklaces. Oh honey, we looked at it ALL!
And I bought birthday presents for my two daughters who have birthdays coming up and that feels so good.
Then we went to The Grady Market where we fondled and swooned over the Johnny Was clothing and we had to leave, finally, to catch our breaths and slow our heartbeats.

The fellows met us and we went for coffee and I said, "Let's go play cards on the balcony!" and everyone said, "Hurray!" and we did and we played for about four hours, not kidding, and it was probably the most fun any of us can ever remember happening. Last year, for my birthday, Lis gave me a deck of antique cards, still sealed in their wax paper.

I had never cracked that seal, but grabbed the box when we left on Friday and those are the cards we played with. We laughed, we cursed, we upset a group of people from Wisconsin because we stole "their table" and we did not care. The wind blew one of the cards off the table and Mr. Moon and Mr. Lon ran downstairs and Mr. Moon climbed the bannister and reached up onto the tin roof and got it. SAVED! 

I had the worst card-luck of my life. To the point where I just enjoyed the debacle and finally, after all those hours, Lon was the winner. We dressed for supper and went downstairs to the beautiful bar of the Gibson and we had martinis and ordered from the bar menu and ate shrimp tacos and salads with shrimp and spring rolls and all sorts of groovy, delicious food and laughed some more. 

Then we went upstairs for more birthday cake and by the time we all went to bed, there had been tears as well, good tears, tears of relief and release, long overdue, and I looked around at the four of us and I thought, one day, we will not all be here and it was an overwhelmingly sobering thought but one that made me want, more than ever, to be with these people as often as possible, for us all to make time together like this to get away, to be silly and loving and jokey and serious and everything there is to be that you can only be with people with whom you can trust your very heart. 

We had breakfast this morning and hugged each other good-bye and we set off in our various directions. Mr. Moon and I stopped to buy crab claws and steamed crawfish and also in Panacea to check out a little fishing tournament weigh-in that was happening. Mr. Moon picked me a magnolia. 

We also stopped to look at a very old log cabin which has fascinated me ever since I've lived here. Robb White writes about it in his book, Flotsam and Jetsam: The Collected Adventures, Opinions, and Wisdom From a Life Spent Messing About in Boats. His family owned the house at one time and he spent his childhood summers there. It sounded crazy and idyllic, the adults busy with drinking and enjoying life and letting the children run wild in boats on the water in packs. The house has been for sale for some time but it says Contract Pending on the sign now and I do hope someone buys it and restores it because it is magical.

Right on the water, right across from Dog Island. 

By god, I do love the part of Florida where I live. 

And now we're home and all is well here and I had to sit and write all this down so I won't forget any of it and how lovely it was and how much I enjoyed it (with all of my heart and soul and being) and the magnolia blossom is in the hallway, making my house smell of its lemony perfume and I feel outrageously rich and lucky and content and I will tuck those Lone Palm cards away, not to be used again until the four of us are together again to sit and play for hours. 

I suppose we are getting to the part of our lives where a card game with friends just can't be beat which is ridiculous and wonderful and as sublime a way to pass the hours as any I know. And I hope we'll be doing that again before too much time has passed because time will pass and quickly and it is up to us to grab it and use it as we want.

As Gibson might say, "Dat's right. Dat's right!"

Love...Ms. Moon

Ain't Nothing Wrong With That

Let me tell you something:
Sometimes, even if you have a beautiful home you love and there are no children about, you just have to get away with your lover.
Paul Simon said that there are fifty ways to leave your lover but I am saying there is one good way to leave WITH your lover and that is to pack your clothes and perfume, put on your jewelry and paint your eyes in mermaid colors and get in the car with him (or her) and go somewhere where you are not especially known where there will be a room with a bed for you to lay down in together and maybe a porch or two to sit on in the tree tops if your room is a second floor room and where there will be rain, perhaps, that you can smell as it comes down the coast, racing for you on that porch and maybe a nice bar tender who will make you a bloody mary so that you can sit and sip it while the rain comes racing in and then you can go back to your room and hold each other tightly and that is a good way to leave with your lover and I can hear the wind right now in the tree tops and the doves cooing out what sounds like Morse Code saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Adventure Foreplay

For the past seven weeks Mr. Moon and I have been like Boy Scouts in that we have been trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.

Okay. That's a lie. We have, however, been doing pretty well in the Eating All Healthy And Shit department as well as the exercise department and in the Being All Sober And Shit department.

At least during the week and thank GOD that it is Friday because I am sick and tired of such clean living, and desperately need a weekend break. As I have said, we are heading down to Apalachicola this weekend which, although it is not Las Vegas by any means, does contain a fair number of lovely restaurants AND bars, and one of my favorite bars in the world is in the Gibson Hotel where we are staying. Here is a picture of it that I snatched off Trip Advisor:

We love the Gibson Inn and have stayed there many, many times over the past almost-thirty years. It was built in 1907 which means that it is almost fifty years newer than the house we live in which cracks us up. You know how we Americans are- anything over thirty years old is historic and anything over a hundred years old is as ancient as the pyramids and looked upon with awe and wonder.

This weekend as are many, is a murder-mystery weekend at the Gibson. This means there will be people in costume wandering around trying to figure out clues and also, drinking heavily in the bar. One could find this annoying but I find it entertaining and the last time we were there at the same time as a murder mystery weekend, we spied a guy sitting at the bar in madras pants. Long madras pants. He was young. The wearing of the madras pants did not seem to be ironic. Bill Murray wore madras pants in Moonrise Kingdom but this guy was not Bill Murray. Believe me. He looked like someone who grew up at the Country Club. Like someone I would probably come to blows with were we to be so foolish as to discuss politics.
But. Looks can be deceiving. One never knows and so forth.

It used to be that fine dining in Apalach was pretty much relegated to the one restaurant in town which had a few items on the menu which were not fried. This was a restaurant in which a Boston Chef named Chef Eddie cooked. Chef Eddie had visited Apalachicola and fallen in love with it and he and his wife moved there and for many years he seemed happy there and we always enjoyed dining at whatever restaurant he was cooking in and indeed, for some time he had his OWN restaurant which was housed in a former mortuary, I believe, and he was a jolly round man who would recommend his freshest fishes, his favorite desserts.
Over the years however, we saw a decline in Chef Eddie. He appeared less jolly and his demeanor began to take on a more despairing appearance. No longer did he wax eloquently about Aplachicola and its charms. He appeared to be drinking with more enthusiasm or at least desperation.

And then, a year or so ago, we went down to Apalach and asked around as to where Chef Eddie might be. Had he closed his restaurant? Was he cooking in another establishment?

"Chef Eddie is dead," said the man we were talking to.

He was not sure whether Chef Eddie had actually and purposefully done himself in or whether his habits had done the job for him. The result, however, was the same and we shall never again eat Chef Eddie's pecan-encrusted grouper which is just very sad.

However, there are other fine restaurants in town now and I'm sure we will not go hungry. It is not a month with an "R" in it so we shall probably not eat oysters, even though it is legal to do so. We just don't think it's right. But again, one never knows. We are, after all, only weeks away from an "R" month and if the mood presents itself, perhaps we shall throw caution to the winds and consume some. Apalachicola is world-famous for its oysters, after all. When we first started going down there in fact, the oystering, shrimping, crabbing and fishing industries were still the most prominent features of the town. Now there are, besides the restaurants and bars, shopping establishments which cater to people who might wear madras pants in an un-ironic fashion and who have plenty of obvious disposable income. There is also a beautiful book store, a wonderful coffee shop, and the grocery store carries a large wine selection. There is no movie theater although there is a restored theater where plays and live musical performances occur, not unlike the Monticello Opera House.

Despite all of these changes, the air still smells of salt with a whiff of fish gut and one may sit at the bar with a guy who just came off the shrimp boat. The river, of course, is eternally there and as one dines beside it, one can still see those shrimp boats gliding by on their way out to the Gulf, their nets tied up, the powerful diesel engines chugging. There are still huge mountains of oyster shells outside the remaining processing plants and the great Apalachicola Bay remains as one of the most profoundly beautiful and important estuaries on the planet with its mixture of sweet and salt water where the oysters live and reproduce and where many of the great fishes and birds spend their nursery time before they are grown-up enough to move to the Gulf waters entirely. The oyster men and women still tong oysters from homemade boats in the ancient way which is backbreaking work in either the freezing cold or the baking heat.

Mr. Moon and I have a lot on this bay and it is also right downtown and within walking distance of the restaurants, the bars, the bookstore, the library, the grocery store. Our plan for many years has been to build a house on that lot and to me, the most important feature of it will be a dock jutting out into the bay. I feel like I grew up on a dock, albeit one in Roseland, Florida, on the Sebastian River, and it is on a dock where I feel most at home. You are tied to land but you are also on the water on a dock, both at the same time and if one is still and observant one could never be bored watching the amazing wealth of sea, sky, and land life from that little pathway over the water.

Okay. I better go pack. It is Friday and I have spent all week taking decent care of my physical being and now it is time to head to the coast and take even better care of my spiritual being. Funny how I began with discussing the bars but it is truly the water which draws me back there over and over. We are taking the flats boat with us and hope to travel up the Apalachicola River a ways one early evening while we are there. We shall take our cocktail with us and let the people who murder-mysterying have our seats at the bar.

I'll take pictures and I'll tell stories about it all.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

An Excellent 24 Hours

We went and now we're back and I'm so glad I finally got my head out of my ass and let myself have what is commonly known as a good time.

From the moment I really made up my mind to go, it began to be fun. To the point where Mr. Moon said as we were getting ready, "Hello! Nice to see you again!"
Ahem.

The drive down to the coast is always a lovely thing. You go through woods and by the water and sometimes you see deer or even bear or wild boar. And of course raccoons and possums but they're usually lying very still. In the road. Where they are dead.
Cars and small animals do not mix well.

We stopped in Lanark where we bought an entire package of Cheese-It's. The orange AND yellow ones.

This is what it looks like behind the place we stopped, looking out across the bay to Dog Island. When we put the boat in to go to the island, this is where we do it. They not only sell Cheese-Its. They sell gas and beer and milk and ketchup and other stuff and have a boat ramp too.

I read some of a Larry McMurtry book out loud to Mr. Moon. It's a very old book, but one of my favorites. All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. My copy is so old that the cover is soft and the pages are brittle. It contains one of my favorite lines in all of literature which is this: "If you're too drunk to walk you can borrow my car," she said.
I may have told you this before and I should probably not even tell you that ONE time, much less twice but the fact of the matter is that I find the line hysterical. And disclaimer: I WOULD NEVER, EVER SAY THIS IN REAL LIFE NOR DO I APPROVE OF ITS MESSAGE BUT FUCK THAT, IT'S FUNNY!
(I think I may have just channeled Ms. Bastard-Beloved.)

Mr. Moon had booked us a room at the Gibson in Apalachicola.

When we checked in, they told us there was a drink on the house for us when we were ready. What?
I asked Mr. Moon if he had told them some sort of story about us celebrating something. He claims he didn't but I'm not convinced. But what the hell? I will never look a gift drink in the mouth.

They gave us room 304 and I know we've stayed in that room before. More than once. It's a nice room. Here's a hallway at the Gibson.

The place started out back in the olden days when the rooms did not all have their own bathrooms so when they redid it in the eighties, they had to artfully rearrange things and the hallways wander around and exit doors end up on porches and you can sometimes get a little lost.
Oh. Maybe that's just me.

Here's a picture of Mr. Moon and me in another hallway.


God, that's a goofy picture. I look like Mrs. Dorkie D. McDork.
I sort of am but I really hate visual proof.

We went down to the bar and got our perfect on-the-house martinis.
I love the bar.

Now that is what a bar should look like if you ask me.

Here's the lobby where supposedly you can get wireless.

Haha! Supposedly you can get wireless in the rooms too.
Well, who cares about wireless when you've got all this charm? What I love about the Gibson is that they don't even seem to be disturbed when the wireless isn't working. "Oh, maybe it has something to do with the weather," they say, looking at their fingernails.
And maybe it does.

Well, so, we had oysters and we had dinner and we walked around some and it was all so lovely.

Here's Mr. Moon in the middle of a main road where a few minutes later we saw a bald eagle swoop and fly. I'm not even kidding you. Living in Apalachicola really wouldn't be that bad. Bookstore, library, restaurants, pretty bars, water all over the place, bald eagles downtown...
All within walking distance. And two parks on either side of where our house will be. With a dock. Which Mr. Moon can net fish right off of. And shrimp, maybe. And set out crab traps. And have his boat right nearby.
And the sky looks like this at sunset.

Not a bad place. Not a bad place at all.

Oh yes. It was very good and very loving and very sweet and we had a huge breakfast and there was bacon and a biscuit bigger than Zeke's head, and we sat by the river and the waitress who was old enough to be our daughter, maybe, kept saying things like, "More coffee, loves?" and she had tattoos and we never ran out of coffee or grape jelly either one and we left the Gibson in an excellent mood, renewed in spirit and in hearts and then we drove by our lot and it's right there, just waiting for us and so is the Gibson, so is all of it, right down the road and we came home and bought shrimp on the way to eat here in Lloyd and my favorite- cocktail crab claws, too- and it's raining, sort of, drip, drip, drizzle and the chickens are all still here and the dogs, too, of course, and sometimes, SOMETIMES, you just have to pack a bag and get in the car and go away with the one you love and come home loving him even more.

Apalchicola Weekend

It's a miracle, y'all! The wireless in this place has been funkafied for sure and I couldn't get online for shit until now but here I am, uploading and downloading pictures and everything.

This is a very nice place. I do have to say it. But it's just a bit too unfunkafied for me. Why am I even saying that? It's lovely. It's right on the river. It's too big? Too clean?
They built this place as condos when the boom was still going on. Before the last big hurricane crashed into the coast here, before the economy crashed all over the damn place. So they're trying to make it work as a hotel and it's lovely. Honestly. It is.

Okay. Pictures.

It was so foggy last night. Here's what it looked like right outside our room, the side not facing the river:

It was still misty this morning,

but when it cleared, I realized we were looking at this:

Mr. Moon and I could have bought that house a very, very long time ago. It's a pre-civil war house, about the same age as ours, and obviously much grander. It's now part of the park system and we've been in it and it's beautiful. Someone tried to turn it into a B&B awhile ago but it didn't work. I'm not sure why. I think they had too many rules. Too many rules don't work when people are on vacation. People on vacation don't want to be hit with No This and Do Not Do That.

That sign is here at the hotel down by the dock.
Hell- what good is a damn river in Florida if you can't (a) swim in it and (b) feed the damn alligators?
Do both if you want to! Cut down on the surplus human population! Win a Darwin award! It's your ass.
That's what I think.

Anyway, here's a very fine pelican. I took his picture this morning too.

After breakfast this morning (where we ate some of the very best bacon I've ever had in my life) we did a little shopping.
There's a bookstore/knitting supply store here which is just about perfect. They have everything from books by local artists to...KEITH RICHARD'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY!
Also the most beautiful yarns you'd ever want to see. Or feel.
Here's Mr. Cutie Pie in front of the store. He bought a book by a boat builder. He's already started reading it and keeps laughing out loud. I think I'm going to have to read this book too.

Ain't he darling?
Yes. He is.

So there you are and here we are. There's supposed to be an FSU basketball game on the TV but Mr. Moon can't find it and so we're just hanging out in the beautiful suite here. It's chilly outside, and gray but inside it's warm and cozy.

We'll venture out this evening for another martini at the Gibson Inn. It was White Trash Mardi Gras there last night. That was...interesting. And then we'll go get our supper.

Last night it stormed like crazy, thunder and lightening cracking bright and bringing the night to its knees and the rain poured down.

I hope that happens again tonight. It was beautiful. And we slept fine.

Trip Report

So Mr. Moon and I made our way down to Apalachicola and we stopped in Sopchoppy to browse in a few shops. In one he found and purchased an entire baby camo outfit for Owen. Yes. He did. A camo onesie, a camo hat, and camo booties.

At another store down the road we found a lamp that I really had to have. Okay. Something is wrong with my camera or else I have it set on some weird setting that I need to figure out. But here's the lamp:


Can you imagine I could have left that behind? I don't think so.

We stopped in Carabelle for some beer and as we were leaving the store, we saw this:


I would apologize for my fellow-north Floridians but what would be the point? We may not be able to spell but goddammit, we love our country! Right?

The Gibson was busy with a bunch of folks taking part in a murder mystery weekend. I'm not exactly sure how that operates but people were talking about clues all weekend and there were characters walking around in costume. Everyone seemed to be having a great deal of fun. Our room was on the third floor, a small room, but a cozy one. The thing I love about going away for the weekend is that naps can be taken without guilt. I love to lie there on the bed under the covers and just let sleep overcome me and drift away and then come back to life and listen to Mr. Moon snoring gently and revel in the luxury of being completely comfortable and with nothing which has to be done, no place to be but where I am, the world busy around me, and not having to feel part of it, just me and my husband all alone in the center of this busy-ness, a quiet, still spot that we are sharing. Does that make sense? Oh. It does to me.

On Saturday we shopped around. Here's a picture of me with my head on the bosom of a pirate lady. I think we both look rather pleased:


Who doesn't love a nice bosom, even if it is made of fiberglass?

We made sunset rum and cokes and walked down to the river. It was so beautiful, the sky streaked with gold and pink and the shrimp boats lined up at the dock. It was too dark and I only had the camera in the phone, but here's sort of what it looked like:


Maybe especially after a rum and coke.

And in the theme of drinking, here's my handsome husband of twenty-five years, having a martini on the porch of the Gibson:


We ate oysters and shrimp and crab and gumbo and way too much chocolate. Yes, it is possible to eat too much chocolate. My tummy paid me back, too. And reminded me of why I need to start eating in a more sensible way but that's a topic for another blog and the subject of another day.

This weekend was about the celebration. It was about being in a town we've loved for almost as long as we've loved each other. We drove around town, remembering the days when we thought we'd buy a house down there, disagreeing on which house was which, and then agreeing, and then disagreeing but overall agreeing that Apalachicola is a beautiful place and we have the perfect lot and that yes, someday it would be so nice to live there on it, blocks from the store, the library, the restaurants, and right on the water. But I have decided that no matter what, I have to have at least a few hens. If I keep only hens and keep them hidden, I believe I can get away with it. I shall have swamp hens and grow my tomatoes in pots.
Well. It's a dream. Perhaps it will come true.
And that was another lovely thing about the weekend- celebrating what has been in the last twenty-five years and looking forward to what comes next.

And so that was our trip, in a rush and a whirl, and now I HAVE to get to town to see my boy. I know he misses me and Lily reports that he is giving full-blown smiles and I WANT MINE!

One of my chickens just laid an egg and Sam, as he always does when a hen sings her chicken-laying song, hurried into the coop to see what was up, just like a new father being called to the delivery room. I can see him metaphorically passing out cigars five times a day, that pretty rooster of mine.

And so I am home and I am glad to be. Perhaps someday we will live on the water with a dock of our own on the beautiful Apalachicola Bay with palm trees and an enormous sky above us, the always-changing water beside us. But for now, this place is where I want and need to be. Close to my children, my grandchildren, with my chickens right out back, my garden where I can easily get to to gather greens. It's gray today and a little damp and chilly, but my heart is warm. And the palm trees I have planted in this yard are growing every year and the oak trees shelter us beneath their massive branches and our own front porch looks out onto the street which leads to all roads, eventually, and then back again to home.

A Celebration Weekend

Apalachicola is one of those places just eat up with charm. I mean EAT UP with it. Old houses both stately and funky, palm trees, a beautiful bay, a gorgeous winding river, great shopping, great eating, fishermen, tourists, artists- hell, it even has its own homosexuals. It could be Key West but thank god it's not.

You can sit down in a bar and have the owner of some company sitting on one side of you wearing madras pants and an oyster-shucker wearing jeans and a ripped T-shirt on the other side.

And that's where Mr. Moon and I are headed tomorrow for our anniversary weekend.

Twenty five years we'll have been married on Sunday and no, I can't believe it either.

This is not going to be one of those sappy posts. I already wrote one of those today.
No, it's just a post about how nice it's going to be to get in a car (maybe the Cutlass!) and drive that beautiful road down to the coast and then crossing a bridge that looks like the back of some prehistoric reptile



which ends right in front of the Gibson. We've booked a room at the Gibson and some of you might look at it and say, "But Ms. Moon, your own house is older than that, and a lot more private and just as charming," and I'd say, "You're right!" but they have restaurants in Apalachicola and one of my favorite shops in the world, River Lily, where I can buy some of my favorite perfume and drool over the jewelry, lamps, clothing and great fun stuff I've never seen anywhere else. There are also antique stores, a fabulous book store, and the best oysters in the world, not to mention a lot on the bay that Mr. Moon and I own and which we hope to build on some day. Plus, someone else will be washing my towels and sheets and you can't beat that with a stick and it certainly doesn't happen here in Lloyd, plus, if a dog shits on the floor, I won't be expected to clean it up.

We've stayed in Aplachicola many times before and I wrote a novel based there and it's just the kind of place that grabs your heart and makes you think, "I could live here," and next thing you know you're calling a realtor and going around looking at houses. It's changed a lot since we first started visiting back in the eighties but not so much that it doesn't still smell like salt and fish and primeval funk. Makes me feel right at home, having grown up by a river in a fishing village. And the people at the Gibson will welcome us with open arms, or at least a friendly smile and we'll sit on the big wide porch and have a drink and watch the traffic, of which there is not much, and we'll walk down to the water and sit on a dock and ask people what they're catching and we'll go out for supper and we'll celebrate twenty-five years of marriage, which in this day and time is pretty remarkable.
We'll toast to each other and the kids and the grandkid and we'll look at each other and say, "How did this happen? Where did the time go?"
And we'll climb the creaky flights of stairs to our room where we'll sleep together under clean sheets and it will be fine and we'll feel at home in the little town where one day we might have a home.

And on Sunday we'll drive home and get out of the car and look around and if I know us, we'll be glad to be home in Lloyd and really, wherever Mr. Moon is, that is my home, and this life- this life of ours- this twenty-five years together of a life is worth celebrating both there and here and we shall do that.