In Which We Go To Thomasville And Come Home With A Horse

I do not think it could have been a better day.

I think I'm going to let the pictures speak for themselves. And oh yes, the little movie of Owen meeting the horse for the first time.



It's like he was born knowing how to ride that horse.

Bop arranged for the purchase of it first thing and we explored the store a little more and then we took off for lunch. We went to the place which I have spoken of before where a little old woman sits at the cash register (it's all buffet and you pay when you come in) and looks at Mr. Moon and says, "How tall're yew?"
Well, she wasn't there today so things seemed a bit off but the food was as downhome great as ever and everyone always talks about how fine the vegetables are and they ARE but dear god, there is so much pork fat in them that a vegetarian would not find enough to stave off starvation there. Ironic, eh?

Here's a plate of goodness:

There were three kinds of greens, three types of beans, rutabagas (which the man at the cash register told us about when we paid- "There are rutabagas today!") and okra and oh, hell, I don't know what all. And baked chicken with rice and Macaroni and Cheese and meat loaf and barbecued pork and fried chicken and yeast rolls the size of Owen's head.
And the best tea. Oh, just the best.

Here's Owen.

He especially liked the green beans.
But then we decided to give him a fried chicken leg. A long time ago, I took Ms. Omgrrrl to this restaurant with her young son and he ate his first fried chicken leg there. He called it "shicken" and we are still talking about that day. That boy ate that chicken leg from the top to the bottom and I am sure that to this day he remembers it. At least to some degree.
So we gave Owen a leg after Lily took off most of the crunchy, crispy, delicious coating

and at first he was hesitant and then he tried it

and then...

Yes. He is a carnivore. He ate it to the bone in about thirty seconds.

I was so proud. My little southern boy. He can feed chickens AND he can eat them.
I know. It's confusing. Let's not think about it too much.

We went back downtown and did a little strolling and shopping. Owen needed to work off some of that chicken and we let him out of the stroller and he gleefully held our hands and walked like a man down the sidewalk.

We loaded up the horse and drove on home and Owen fell asleep because he WAS TIRED and he WAS FULL and the horse bounced along in the truck bed behind him and I made Lily take his picture because he looked so jaunty back there.


And so the horse is home now, in our library. Lily just doesn't have room for it at her house. He may end up on the side porch when it warms up. Who knows? I just hope that Owen really loves it as much as he seemed to when he first saw it. He was still half asleep when we set him on it at home.

So that's been our day and thank-you for indulging a grandmother. I realized, as we were eating lunch and I was ignoring my food to take the boy's picture and give him bites that really, I AM A DAMN GRANDMOTHER AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!
I mean, I knew I was a grandmother before that moment but it just really sunk in that I am one to such a cliched degree and don't you judge me until you've had your own grandchildren.
You'll see.
Oh yes you will.

And here's one more picture. A lagniappe, if you will.

Dessert.
Yeah, the meal wasn't enough. We had to get dessert. That's the best cinnamon roll you ever ate, a piece of yellow sheet cake and some banana pudding.
And no, I did not eat all of that. I promise you. In fact, I didn't even bother tasting the cake or the banana pudding and I probably only ate about one day's calories worth of the cinnamon roll which was less than half of it.

I wish I had another one right now.

Life is sweet. And salty. And crunchy. And bouncy.
Sometimes, anyway.

Today it has been. It surely has for four of us here in North Florida as we traveled up to Georgia and then came home, a plastic horse dancing all the way as we traveled back south to where we live.

And Goodwill To All

Mr. Moon and I took the convertible up to Thomasville today, driving down the back roads through Medart and Miccosukee and it was a gray day but when we stopped for coffee, the guy at the convenience store was so nice, as he always is, and he made fresh coffee for us.

I had one of those moments on the drive where I felt perfectly and utterly at peace. No niggling or nagging of my soul was going on, or if it was, it was under the radar-type niggling and I couldn't detect it. I reached over and rubbed Mr. Moon's neck very softly with just my fingertips and he smiled at me and my prayer was this:
Don't ever die. Do not ever die.

I was perfectly content and perfectly happy with no schedule, no expectations, just traveling down a country road with my man in a noisy blue car with the top down.

We got to Thomasville and started a bit of downtown shopping in the fancy stores but we were suddenly hit with hunger, and despite the fact that we'd decided not to go back to the All-you-can-eat-'til-you-bust-good-Southern-cooking restaurant, we did anyway.

And we didn't eat until we busted but we ate too much, as always when we go there. After I ate, I ended up spilling all my change on the ground and hitting myself with the door and I just felt drunk on something- carbohydrates? Animal fat? Whatever.

Let's GO, I said, I need to get out of here and we did and we are not going back for awhile. I promise you.

Mr. Moon took me to the Thomasville Goodwill which used to be a font of finds for me. It's an indication of the downward slide of the economy in that I can't find the fine labels I used to there and I suspect that the well-off ladies of Thomasville are taking their clothing to the consignment shops, rather than donating them to Goodwill because there were an awful lot of Walmart brand clothes on the racks and hell, the way the prices are at Goodwill now, it's almost as cheap to buy Walmart clothes at Walmart.
But I did find a picture I like and I bought it. Mr. Moon doesn't care for it but I told him that wasn't the point. I did. It has magnolia blossoms in a bowl. How can you not like a picture of magnolia blossoms in a bowl?

We went back downtown where all the fancy stores are and all I can say is although Goodwill definitely is showing signs of the recession, the downtown area is all What recession?

All sorts of SUVs were represented there such as the Mercedes SUV, the Range Rover and Land Rover SUV's, etc. And people were appearing to buy the lovely and expensive merchandise that Mr. Moon and I were only looking at. I tried to talk him into a set of Spode hunting-themed dinner ware for our hunting camp but he just looked at me and said, "What hunting camp?"
Then he got it and said, "Oh, the Georgia hunting camp at the plantation. Right." And man, that Spode would have looked damn good with grilled quail and cheese grits on it. And angel biscuits. Uh-huh.

But we didn't even buy a tureen for soup or collard greens and not even so much as a gravy boat but passed it all up and we did buy coffee. Mr. Moon and I love the coffee.

We drove home and I did air-tricks with my hand and arm out the window as we rushed down the highway and now we're home and the sun is setting and the rooster is crowing next door to tell us that fact. I suppose. Roosters just love to crow. That's what they do.

Just like Mr. Moon and I love to get in the convertible and drive the back roads and look at the old houses and pine trees and let the wind rush around us and smile at each other. We saw this other old middle-aged couple on two trike bikes (I forget what they're really called) when we stopped for gas and Mr. Moon said, "They think they look cool."
"We think we look cool, too," I pointed out, and we laughed.

Pretty soon I'll heat up some leftovers and we'll eat them on our old Goodwill china which is NOT Spode but pretty, nonetheless, and we'll be happy. Spaghetti is always better on the third day than it was on the first.

We didn't get one damn thing accomplished today but we didn't give a damn, either. It's December 20th and I'm wearing a tank top and I'm not chilly at all. I have to remind myself that Christmas is in five days. I guess I'll go plug in the Christmas tree and we'll play some cards on the porch, being glad to have had this easy day, smiling at each other and making each other laugh. The owls are doing that pant-hoot thing which sort of makes you feel like you're in Africa instead of rural North Florida and I guess they have love on their minds.

It's not Mexico where we are tonight, but it ain't bad being right where we are.

Not bad at all.