Lagniappe

Mr. Moon and I played a little late afternoon cards and then we took a walk on the beach. Just a little walk. For me, once I get started walking on the beach, if the sand is nice and packed and the temperature is good, I get into a Zen-like thing and feel as if I could walk for days. And of course, it's so hard to judge distance on the beach. A lighthouse that looks like it's just a few hundred yards down the beach could actually be two miles away and you have to take all of that into consideration.
It's a kind of magic which I am sure science can explain but I just accept that I'm going to walk farther than I thought I would and I'll probably have sand blisters on my toes when I get back.

But. That's one of the things I love about the beach. The organic meditation of one foot in front of the other on the long sand road bordered by water which is as alive as anything on this earth.
Also- little sand pipers, scurrying in front of you as you walk, seagulls and pelicans above you, guarding, gliding, falling into great dives to catch fish in that living water.

As hard as I try, I can't get a good picture of the pelicans. I see them coming in long formations, I grab my phone and click the camera app and aim and shoot and I get stuff like this.

Suck. They are the living pterodactyls, they are magnificent, and I love them.

More water.

I am going to go heat up some crab cakes leftover from last night and make more cocktail sauce for the fat, sweet shrimp I boiled two nights ago. We had lunch today at the restaurant where the one and only server, a woman older than I am I believe whose name is Barbara, says things like, "I know they want their soup. I don't give a shit."

But then turns around and calls everyone "baby" and "sugar" and gets the soup to the table as if she did care. I honestly can't figure out which attitude is true and which is not. 

I do know that the owner who was shucking oysters said, "I wouldn't give two dollars for a dozen of these oysters."

Hey. The month doesn't have an R in it. It may be legal to harvest and serve them, but it don't make it right. 

When we left, Barbara said, "Happy Mother's Day. I hope you have a good one."

"You too," I told her. 

"Oh. I will. I plan to just lay on the couch and relax."

Trust me. She deserves it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How Not To Relax

The crazy has been strong within me today and I have various theories about why and of course, who really knows but I think I may have actually had a sort of panic attack after breakfast, feeling as if small currents of electricity were sparking off inside me and my stomach is definitely off and for a moment or two at El Jalisco I felt as if I might pass out or something but I didn't.
I took an Ativan and came back and laid down on the bed in our beach room and looked at the Oleander blowing outside the window and breathed as best I could and then I slept for a few moments.
Ugh.
We went into Apalachicola this afternoon and walked around a few shops and peeked into a house for sale and went down to our property where I saw a raccoon trundling back into the heavy growth by the water and I followed him up to a point and then squatted and peed. That had nothing to do with the raccoon. I just had to pee.

Now we're back at the Simmons again and I still feel far from peaceful although the ocean has calmed down from what it was this morning which was a raging churn of waves and froth. It's still not a body of water I want to get in right now. A few weeks ago a guy died right off this island, saving his nephew in a riptide. No one else is swimming either but maybe we'll take a walk in a few minutes. I just feel completely uneasy and yes, anxious, and unlike yesterday it does suck.

Well, that's enough of that. We all know I'll live.

Love...Ms. Moon

Things I Have Seen Today

This is what the sky looked like this morning about 9:00. I kept waking up, early, early thinking that I should definitely get up and go watch the sunrise. How every time I've ever gone to the beach with my friend Liz she always, every time, gets up in the darkness, makes the coffee and goes for a sunrise walk and how I never do.
I didn't do it again today, either.
Oh well.

Here are two lizards, making love.

They just laid together like that, very still, for a long time. Aren't they lovely and graceful? 

That's a ghost crab. We think he may have been drowsing on the beach but when Mr. Moon gently nudged him with a toe, the crab rose up on his tiptoes and held up those claws, exactly like a martial arts master. 

"Crab Kwan Do," said Mr. Moon. 

So fierce.

We did take a walk, the man and I. We walked down the beach for a few miles and looked at all the houses and talked to the fishing meemaws and papaws, also to the little children joyfully digging in the sand to China. When we got back to our house, we jumped in the cool waves and it was heaven. 

Here are some things to be found at the Simmons #2 apartment on St. George Island.

Shell clock art.

Food bowls for cats and dogs. It's a pet-friendly apartment. 

A shell wreath. Someone had a glue gun and too much time on their hands.

Crystal dolphin figurine with lace doily. 

These are some of the charming things to be found here. Things which just make you feel at home. 

If by "home" you mean the house of your great-aunt who died thirty years ago. 

There are also four remotes and we can't figure out how to use a damn one of them to get anything on the TV. 

Oh well. 

Here's what the ocean looks like right now from our deck.

Doesn't suck.

Love...Ms. Moon

The Island

Mr. Moon and I stopped in town on our way to the beach to have lunch with this guy. We let his parents come along.
That's a joke because we wanted to see them too. So much.
By the time we get back on Sunday, they'll be headed up to Asheville and I had the hardest time letting go of that boy. I mean literally. From the time we got to the restaurant to the time we left. I did not want him out of my arms.
The fact that half the time I was crying did not bother him one bit. He was in the goofiest, happiest mood, eating everything he could get his hands on, laughing at his Boppy and his mama and his daddy.
But finally Jessie drove away with him in the back seat, waving his hands and me waving my hands, my face crumpled in crying
.
"It's okay," I told Mr. Moon. "It's all fine. This is just how I am."
And it was and it is.

We drove through Crawfordville and Panacea and Carabelle and Eastpoint and finally crossed the bridge to St. George Island and here we are in the old Simmons which is as comfortable and cozy as you could wish. We can't figure a damn thing out concerning the remote operation but that's okay. Mr. Moon has already done a little fishing

although he only caught one tiny whiting and gave it back to the Gulf to get a little more size on him. 

I went into the water and it was a bit chilly for this Southern gal but by tomorrow when it heats up during the day, I'll enjoy it tremendously. 

We stopped in Panacea and bought shrimp and blue crab claw meat and we went to the St. George Piggly Wiggly Express when we got here and tonight's menu is going to be garden greens salad and cheese grits and shrimp. They had the real grits at the Pig which take an hour to cook and I have some of those simmering now. I'm always amazed at the choices in the Piggly Wiggly, the amount of Bob's Mills products, the generous number of choices of pickled green beans, the hummus, the suntan lotion and craft beer and frozen pizzas and beautiful cuts of meat and some decent produce, including great bunches of fresh-looking cilantro. 

Plus, of course, there's a bait refrigerator. 

And so it goes. I've seen seagulls and osprey and pelicans. I've come back to the island where I spent three summers with my children in a cement block apartment, two rooms big which we made into a magical and wonderful place to be with fairy lights and a futon and books and dolphin sightings and walks to the store for ice cream and yes, a TV that had many reruns of the Brady Bunch. 

I should be walking on the beach right now. I just can't. My body and soul aren't there yet. 

Tomorrow. 

Anyway, here we are and I am glad. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How To Eat Like A Child And Run Away Like An Adult

We went to El Patron for lunch- our most regular dining spot- and because it's still relatively cool in the shade we ate outside. Because Jessie and Vergil and August are leaving in just a few days, even Mr. Moon is joining us for these lunches. We are trying to gather in all of the Weatherford love we can and in some way (not possible) show them how much we love them as we send them off full-heartedly to go and be with Vergil's family, with their friends up in North Carolina. We will go and see them, of course, because that's the way it is, but while we can simply make a phone call and then all get together for anything from lunch to Costco shopping, we need to do that.
And so we did today.

So. Here's how much Maggie June loves salsa.

No. Seriously. She had it in her eyelashes. And she did not care. 

And here's how August eats his guacamole.

Gibson ate his fried cheese sticks with great gusto. The restaurant was out of french fries and I thought he'd throw a hissy but he calmly accepted the news and ate the rice which was substituted. 

You just never know. 

We all enjoyed our Mexican lunches but Lily developed a pressure headache (her middle ear is still a mess and a torment to her life) and I was driving with her so I chauffeured her and the kids to her house where my car was and we were so grateful to Gibson who, for once, kept the noise level down to below a sonic boom. Then I drove back into Publix to get things for the beach because my husband, my love, is taking me away tomorrow for a three-night vacation on St. George Island where we'll be staying in my favorite funky place which is right on the Gulf and where they haven't changed the furniture since about 1978 and who cares? 

Not me, baby. 

But I didn't get much in the way of groceries to take because I don't want to be burdened and we can buy anything we need between Doug's Seafood and the St. George Piggly Wiggly. Plus, we can easily drive to the Mexican restaurant in Eastpoint for breakfast if we want to so there is that too. And maybe my sweetie will catch a pompano and I'll cook it for him. I just don't care. I want to sit under the umbrella on the beach with my toes in the water and read and watch my husband fish in the surf. I want to take naps and walk on the beach at sunset. I see that the full moon is tonight but there will be plenty of it left for the next few nights to charm and astound me. 

I have to tell you that I feel great huge masses of guilt for not taking all of the kids for the weekend but Mr. Moon keeps saying, "No guilt! We need and deserve time alone!" 

And he's right. But one of the things they don't tell you about grandmotherhood is that if you are one of the many who suffer from mother-guilt, your grandmother guilt will be just as bad, if not greater. How could I deny my grands a day or two at the beach? HUH? HOW? 

You selfish old woman!

The children reassure me that this is fine, they understand, but I think in my heart of hearts that they are cursing me under their breaths. Because this is the way I am made. 

Well. I am just going to fucking deal with it. 

Here's a picture Lily sent me this afternoon.

She asked if I thought that this "snack" would hold the boys until dinner. 

Those boys have the best mama they could possibly have. As does August. 

I may not be taking those kids to the beach this weekend but I gave them some awesome mothers. Decent trade, if you ask me. 

That's my first picking of the rattlesnake beans. 

I'll go back out and pick again tomorrow before we leave and I feel certain that we'll have enough to cook with some of our potatoes for a real fine meal on St. George island. 

I wish you could smell my hallway. 

Maybe we'll stop on the way down to the island and pluck some blossoms to put in our little funky love nest. 

I'll be reporting in although I'm not sure at all that this place has wifi. It definitely does not have a dishwasher. 

Ah well. I think I remember how to deal with that situation. Not a problem. Not one problem at all. 

All love. 

Ms. Moon

I Kissed My Babies A Lot

Woke up this morning after another house dream where my friend Lynn was still alive and although I could definitely remember seeing her dead for sure, she was also definitely still alive and I reconciled these facts by saying, 'Honey, they really misdiagnosed you."
She helped me move an ancient couch up some stairs and she was completely her old self- strong and smart and capable.
Ah, dreams.
Checked my phone to see what time it was and found three texts between Lily and Jessie. This virus has hit Lily hard and she said she could hardly sleep last night for her ear hurting and she was thinking about going to the doctor and so I knew it was time for me to get the hell up and go take care of Maggie so she could do that, and so I did.
Jessie brought August over to play and Jessie and I watched them move things from one place to another and walk around and run around and talk their words, some English, some Baby. Maggie still does that thing where she has complete conversations with perfect expression in which not one word is recognizable but you know that she absolutely knows what she's saying and positively assumes that we do too. Both of those children are so precious I sort of want to just scoop them up and eat their toes off and I know I've said this before but it's a miracle that I've never chewed a baby digit off. You know how some people, when they're standing on something really, really high have the almost uncontrollable fear that they'll fling themselves over the edge? I have the same fear about biting a baby's toe or finger off. I mean- I know I won't but GOD! what if I did?
Maggie went in for the big hug on August at least once, holding him tightly around the neck while closing her eyes and smiling as if in ecstasy while August appeared to be afraid to so much as take a breath.
"The woman child animal gives her prey the Baby Death Grip which paralyzes him completely."
They finally both got tired and Jessie took August home and I gave Maggie a peanut butter bread and she climbed up on my lap and I showed her pictures on my phone which strangely enough are almost all of either her or August or her brothers. She stared at them intently and I began to sing a little song, incorporating the names of all the people in the photos and before I knew it, she was breathing so regularly and she dropped her peanut butter bread and fell asleep, her head on my old bosom. I put the phone down and took her into her parent's room and laid her on the bed.
Soon after that, Lily got home with Gibson. After waiting for hours to see a doctor in a freezing exam room, she had been told that what she had was probably not an ear infection yet, but that it might become one, blah, blah, blah. She was told to take decongestants and was given a prescription for an antibiotic if the decongestants don't work.
I kissed Gibson and packed up my stuff and came on home and that was the important part of my day.

I experienced some vast relief this morning when I was perusing Facebook. I had seen an acceptance of the Rolling Stones for a music award a few weeks ago and they were all there except for Keith and so I was worried that there might be something wrong with him but the Stones had posted this




which leads me to believe that Keith is just fine.
You may think I'm joking but this really was a relief to me.
Yes. I am insane. So what?

I also saw on Facebook that our Sophie is in the hospital and I've been thinking about her and Elizabeth all day long as I'm sure most of you have too.  May that girl be right as rain soon.

I got the zinnias planted. Mr. Moon got the garden sprinklers working. He brought me those magnolias. Tomorrow they will be as open and large as Jimmy Carter's heart.
I'll take their picture.
I promise.

Love...Ms. Moon

Politics And First Hair Cuts

So I went to town today and decided to go to Joanne's Fabric and Everything Else In The World Especially Stuff That Smells Artificial to see if I could find a pattern and some material to make Ms. Maggie a dress which is ridiculous because you can buy a perfectly lovely baby dress for about a third of what a pattern and fabric and thread and buttons and okay, rick rack (I love rick rack) cost, especially if you go to the kid consignment shop but whatever. I like to sew. 

Fabric stores sure ain't what they used to be and the mess in the pattern drawers upsets me terribly. I remember opening those huge metal cabinets, the way they rolled out so nicely, the patterns all arranged by their numbers so carefully. Simplicity here, McCalls here, Vogue here. 

Now you're lucky if the number you're looking for is there and all of the divider labels look as if they've been bent and handled for at least five years apiece instead of being all crisp and lovely. 

But hey- times change and who sews anyway?

Well, someone does because the fabric cutters seem to always be busy. 

When I got in line to pay, the woman who was at the register before me was talking to the cashier. They were discussing some place that sold fabric where the clerks acted like they were doing you a major and stinky favor if they waited on you and so when I got up to the register I said, "So where were y'all talking about with such lousy service?"

(Yes. This is how I talk.)

"Hobby Lobby," said the cashier. 

"Oh," I said. "Well, I never go there. They're too eat up with" (and here I wanted to say Jesus or religion) but instead said, "No birth control."

The cashier said, "I know!" and the women behind me in line said, "I wouldn't go there if you paid me for that very reason."

I had noticed this woman while we were waiting. She was probably about my age and was wearing a skull ring like Keith Richards' and a bracelet with skulls on it and I was going to say something about them but I did not. And she didn't look like someone who would wear a big old silver skull ring either. She looked like someone's grandma. 

Anyway, it was a fine bonding moment at the Joanne's between two old liberal grandmas and I enjoyed it. 

I have some very sad chicken news. Last night two of the Ace Hardware babies got snatched before we closed up the hen house. One of them being Little Bear. Mr. Moon came in from putting the chickens to bed and stuck his head in the door and said, "Not good," and told me the news. 

We both feel terrible. 

The two remaining chicks have stayed in the coop all day long. 

Fuck. Just...fuck, you know? 

I went out and gave them some grapes and they did eat them so they are not stunned into starvation.

Miss Trixie seems to be mourning the loss of Miss Butterscotch who was her oldest and closest friend. Chickens do mourn, I swear. She hasn't moved much past the coop or the hen house recently either and when she does, she seems to come and rest by that pottery hen I have on the kitchen porch with succulents in it. I know that sounds crazy, but Mr. Moon noticed it too. 

And so it goes in the chicken world at my house. From twenty-one birds we're down to eighteen, and that's the way of it. 

In other news, non-chicken related, this happened today:

Jessie decided that it was time to cut August's curls and his papa did the job. 

After Jessie texted me these pictures, I texted back that I felt stabbed in the heart but realized immediately that this was the wrong response. August is her baby, her son, and his hair was a bit mullet-y. And he is gorgeous and adorable, with or without his curls. I'm sure he doesn't care one bit. He probably enjoyed getting his hair cut. He's like that. Jess says that even if he's getting blood drawn, or a shot, he doesn't fuss because he's just so interested in what's going on. 

Our little engineer/scientist. I think he's a lot like his daddy and I see Jessie in him too. She was always a very pragmatic child for the most part, taking things as they came, working through the hard things with a quiet strength she still has. 

Which she most definitely did not get from HER mother. 

Speaking of which, Mr. Moon is back outside, working on that plumbing issue. 

He'll figure it out. 

He always does. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It Was A Goodness

I actually went out to walk this morning, this cool beautiful morning, and I was going to do my usual walk in reverse because I had to stop by the post office to mail a few things and so I went up the hill at the beginning where I usually go down the hill at the tail end, and a neighbor was in her yard and we got to talking. As we do.
After a little while she said, "Would you mind if I walked with you a ways today?"
"Of course not," I said, although I never walk with anyone. I like my own pace and I like to listen to my book as I walk. But...I could not say no.
And so she went and got her shoes on and her walking stick and we walked up to the horse farm together and we chatted and talked and although the pace was quite slow and I felt as if I was wasting my time in at least the physical aspect, I soon settled down in my thoughts and realized that no, this was not a waste of time. We discussed a lot of things and she told me about several trees that I'd always wondered about and we saw a gopher turtle disappear into his red clay burrow and a rabbit, hopping across the road. She told me about the bears she's seen in that area, and about how a mother rabbit will run away from her babies if there is someone threatening them, to draw attention away from them. She told me that her dream is to live in a little house deep in the woods and to grow her own food, to live quietly and peacefully. That she could eat mustard greens three times a day for the rest of her life.

She told me she'd had one baby who'd died as a child.

When we got back to her house, we had a little hug and she said, "Maybe we can do that again," and I said, "Yes, I'd like that. I really enjoyed this."
"I did too," she said.

You never know when you step out of the house what will happen. You never know when you step out of our rut what will happen.

Possibly gifts. I've spoken to this woman many times and had always seen a side of her that was bitter but today, I saw a softness, a gentleness that has been there all along and for some reason, she allowed me to see that.
And I was grateful.

I will never forget how, when we saw the turtle she lowered her voice to almost a whisper to tell me the story of the turtle who used to visit her yard with her baby to nibble on the grass every day.

Around here they say that if you see a turtle, it's good luck.
I think it is. I really do. At least I feel lucky today, just to have seen that turtle, just to have heard that story.

Love...Ms. Moon

Best Laid Plans, Etc.

I didn't get squat done today and I really don't care. I felt fine and no excuse there, but those two Buckeroos in the picture above came over to hang out and that's where I put most of my attention. They named themselves Buckaroos, by the way, and Owen at least would not respond unless I called him "Sheriff." We played a rousing game of Matching and then a sort of slow and pitiful game of Battle.

Boppy had thought that he might take them either fishing or to a car museum today but that didn't end up happening. He started to work on what he thought would be a simple spigot repair and, well, he's still working on the thing which is now a project and we don't have water for the garden but we will. I have great faith in his fixing abilities, plus, he has a lot of serious looking tools and knows how to use them. But that wasn't the only thing he did. He and Owen also dug up some more potatoes.

Owen washed them for me and did such a good job that I had to stop him and inform him that if you scrub all the skin off, the potatoes will rot.
He also helped me pick peas and for his efforts he got to take all we picked home, plus some potatoes. He does not personally like potatoes (how can you not like potatoes?) but he is learning that it feels good to take home vegetables to feed the family.

There was also a lot of eating. We started with the traditional pancakes and bacon.

There was also cheese toast eating, Chex Mix eating, and purple cow slurping. Purple cows are (this is for you, Birdie) lime sherbet, a little bit of ginger ale, and grape juice. But you can make them with whatever sorts of sherbet and soda and juice you want. It's all a rip-off of what we call Methodist Punch, and it's delicious. 

Not all of that eating happened at one time. It was sort of spaced throughout the afternoon. And at some point, Boppy got a tuna salad sandwich and a whole lot of peas were eaten as well. Sometimes I feel like I'm running the MerMer Short Order Cafe around here and I have no idea how Lily's going to keep up with those boys' appetites this summer. 

Anyway, that's what happened here today. And Gibson made buildings and towns with blocks and Owen made a castle with a pile of glass blocks we've had outside (which Mr. Moon is going to do something with some day, I swear) and he was quite proud of his achievement. 

He and Boppy also took a break from their work and tried to make a fire using a magnifying glass. They got smoke but no fire but I'm pretty sure they had a good time, anyway. 

Jessie and Vergil and August went to St. George Island today and although August is still a little sick and fussy, Jessie reports that he had a good time and that they got some of the best boiled peanuts ever. 

Looks like a good time to me. Jessie's been loving boiled peanuts since she was August's age and I still remember with huge fondness Glen's daddy saying that the best meal in the world was boiled peanuts and a Coors Lite on the way to the beach. 

He may have been right. 

I loved being with my boys today. We had some good chats and some good laughs and Owen and I high-fived when we discussed the fact that soon it'll be summer vacation from school and we can all go to Japanica! again. The boy may not like potatoes but he sure does like miso soup and sushi. And he knows where potatoes come from, even if he doesn't want to eat them, and he truly learned today how to pick peas using his thumbnail to spare the vine when you go for a pod. AND we found tiny green beans and I swear to you- they had grown dramatically from the time we first spied them this morning to when we went to check on them this afternoon again. 

He may never be a gardener on his own, or he may be. Either way, that's all right, but if he does have the gene, he'll remember instinctually and viscerally a lot of what he's learning here in Lloyd. 

That makes me happy. 

Good Sunday to you. Let's check in tomorrow because Monday's are truly when we need the prayer services, don't you think?  

Love...Ms. Moon

Not Much Else To Say

Slowly, slowly and with the aid of a shovel, I managed to clear out all of the kale and some of the collards. I did a tiny bit of weeding but then I said, enough, and came in and laid down on my bed and read some and then slept.

All of it felt as gentle as it could be, as if I was moving through cool water, as if I was sweetly asking the soil to release the spent greens, and it did.

Tomorrow I believe I will plant some zinnias because if one can grow zinnias and does not, that may be a type of sin I do not wish to commit.

I am most grateful for this good day of light and cool and peace. I think I will ask my husband if he wants to play some cards while the focaccia bread for our supper is rising.

It's The Emo Virus

I knew I was not feeling well last night when I couldn't even finish one martini.
Nor my entire artichoke. And the food on the episode of the British Bake-Off we were watching made me feel slightly queasy, just looking at it.
Sigh...
Whatever August and Magnolia have had recently has caused them to be so unhappy and tearful and wanting their mommies and I'm pretty sure that I have a touch of the same thing because this morning after I made Mr. Moon a nice egg sandwich and it slid off the plate as I was handing it to him and it landed all in pieces in the dishwasher, I cried a little.
I don't want my mommy but a gentle hug sure would be nice. And I wouldn't mind it if someone came along and patted me on the shoulder and said, "There, there," and led me to the bed and tucked me in and gave me a cool kiss on the forehead.
Instead, Maurice just attacked my hands. I guess she's just being nurturing in the only way she knows.

Oh well.

Life goes on.

It's so cool and so beautiful and the light is so perfect this morning. Here are some of the young chickens.

Aren't they getting big? If you look closely under the edge of that little box nest, you can see the four Ace Hardware babies. They're getting big too and still are as shy as they can be.

All I really wanted to do this weekend was to pull the kale, and weed and maybe get rid of some of the collards and perhaps plant a few more zipper peas while it's so nice and cool and I'm going to try to do a little of that but I know that when I go to pulling that kale and those collards whose stalks are bigger around than a super model's thigh I'll probably end up whimpering.
We'll see.

Meanwhile, I can't imagine a more beautiful day to sit and do nothing if that's what it all comes down to. I would happily sit on the porch swing, rocking and weeping gently, whether for the gorgeousness or the virus, not caring either way.

Love...Ms. Moon

Good Things

We went to a different place for lunch today, "we" being Boppa and Hank and Lily and Maggie and Gibson and me. August has a little virus and so Jessie kept him separate from the other children and Rachel had to work and of course May was at work so it was just the six of us.
Under Wraps is a new little place that serves Mediterranean food as well as wraps and salads and Hank does trivia there on Mondays.

The food was delicious and very reasonable. Lily and I both got the falafel platter which came with falafel, of course, and pita bread and hummus and tabouli and fantastic tzatziki and Mr. Moon got a gyro and Hank got a chicken pita and we got some extra grape leaves and Gibson got a corn dog and french fries which he declared to be very, very good and he also tried grape leaves and liked them very much. 

So that was fun as it could be but the very best part of the day in my opinion was Gibson making me laugh in the car and I can't even remember what he said for the most part but I do know that at one point I thought perhaps I was hysterical and that someone needed to slap me but not really. I do recall him saying that the only four things that are brown are poop, coffee, crayons, and...something else I don't remember. Lily and I pointed out many other things which are brown and I said, "Do you know what the prettiest brown thing is?" 

And he said, "No," and I said, "Your eyes," and he said, "I know."

Maggie was her darling self, all dressed up in a green cha-cha skirt, giving hugs and kisses as she does. And here's a picture of her that Lily sent me yesterday. 

Speaking of things which are brown. 

There was mud play yesterday at the Hartmann residence. I think that perhaps the boys painted their sister with it. 

Anyway, that was all great fun and left my soul feeling plum-damn light and airy. 

I was going to write about something that had absolutely nothing to do with lunch but I can't, for the life of me, remember what it was. But that's okay and it's Friday evening and Mr. Moon just shook up martinis and the church next door is vibrating with the drums and the singing and I'm watching my chickens as I do every evening from the back porch as they race around to get their last bits of scratch for the day, talking about it all with chirps and whistles, and the magnolias are blooming and Joan Didion may have been right in that there is a darkness to the south, things here are in an eternal state of decomposition, but she completely missed the mysterious dappled loveliness it can hold, the joy of words and music and flowers and towering, sheltering trees which can only arise from the fertile, hot, wet atmosphere, born of that very same decomposition she shuddered at. 

Ah-lah. 

I suppose the south is an acquired taste and I have certainly acquired it. It makes my mouth water. 

Speaking of, Mr. Moon just came in from checking out the potato situation in the garden. 

Now THAT'S what I like about the south. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well...

So Maurice has lost her mind and spends half the night trying to get us to open the door into our room from the little porch by jumping on the window and crying and we refuse to do that. She just needs to go around the house and come in the cat door but no, she won't, and last night was horrible. What is she thinking?
So Mr. Moon got up and made a spray bottle of water and sprayed her with it through the screen and I fussed at him and then Maurice did, in fact, quit jumping on the window and came in through the cat door and besides that I have a patch of poison ivy on my thigh (?!) that itches like crazy, and also, dear god in heaven if I don't quit having dreams about needing to clean a house I don't know what the hell I'm going to do.
Therefore we were both a bit annoyed this morning and not as sweet as we could have been, Good-bye, see you later! Kiss, kiss...but I've got sheets hanging on the line and it's almost actually chilly here and the chickens are pecking about, even the littles who look like quail and every time I try to take their picture you can't really see them due to their fabulous camouflage.
I started reading Joan Didion's South and West yesterday. It's a tiny book, mostly written-up notes she took on trips in 1970 and I'm in the South portion and as much as I love Didion, I sort of hate these observations of hers and I'm not sure why. She seems so incredibly disdainful of the Gulf Coast south and I'm quite certain there were plenty of things to be disdainful about then and still are and hell yes, it's hot and things mold and so forth but, oh, I don't know. She seems to discuss the various motel pools she swims in as much as anything and also discusses the fact that she wore a bikini which southern women did not.
Well, the writing is beautiful as always.

All right. I have things to do and I'm sure you do too.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Who's The Dumb Ass? Who's The Cute Little Old Dumb Ass?

So, yeah. Turns out that there are track pad settings which of course I knew at one time in my life but which I had totally forgotten and I couldn't open the "settings" tool because I'm a tool and didn't even try to use the track pad differently than I always have and the guy at the computer repair place was very sweet and kind and showed the little old dumb ass lady what was going on and I am most grateful for him. Plus, we sat and had a little chat about Steve Jobs which for me was truly enjoyable.
I'm going to have to take my Mac back again though because NONE of my pictures got transferred which is almost a personal tragedy, considering that all of Owen's baby pictures are floating around on a cloud or something and I can't access them.
But overall, my beloved Mac is back although I've had to put a different desktop picture on it but that's okay because it's of the water in Cozumel.

The picture I've had for a desktop forever was lovely but like I said, it had been there forever so no big deal. That one was of blooming camellias and dogwood and azalea on my hallway altar but life is all about change, my friends, and I also now realize that I need to take an entire day and go through all of my documents and saved stuff and trash the bullshit of which there is a mighty plenty.

Miss Butterscotch, one of my very oldest hens, did not show up for bed last night. Haven't seen her all day long either. Did she just die of old age or did she get snatched? I do not know but we haven't found her body, although that's to be expected, even if she died of natural causes because a critter would have crept in the darkness and eaten her. Still- not one feather. I suppose she could be sitting on some eggs although she hasn't exactly been laying for a year or two and she'd never gone broody before. If that's the case, she'll show up. And if it's not- rest in peace, you dear old hen.
In other chicken news, I am quite certain I have at least two white roosters. Mr. Moon saw them bowing up again, and they do have more pronounced tail feathers, comb, and wattle than the others. Mick "The Rooster" Jagger is going to have some competition before too long and I'm not sure how this will all shake out but whatever happens, we'll deal with it and it will be interesting to observe.

One of my oldest friends called me today while I was ironing shirts and watching "Fixer Upper" and we bitched and cursed together about the goddam Republicans in the House. My friend has serious health issues and her husband has even more serious health issues which is saying a lot because hers are extremely life-threatening. Still, she manages to laugh about things that most people would not begin to be able to laugh about and I love her for that. Throughout her entire illness and treatment she has continued to work and the reason she's continued to work is because she's the one with health insurance and if she quit her job...where would she be? Where would her husband be? We did NOT laugh about the health "care" travesty which happened today although sarcasm was a big part of the conversation.
"Well," I said to her, "If you'd just lived a good and healthy life, none of this would have happened. Forget the family history."
"Right," she said. And we both growled and gnashed our teeth because the family history is rife on both her husband's and her own side with illnesses related to what they have.

What can I say? Until the day Trump got elected I had no idea how ignorant, spiteful, non-compassionate, racist, and just plain mean that so many of my fellow Americans are and I still cannot begin to comprehend the hatefulness of the Republican party.

You know what I'm saying. Just when we think it can't get any worse, another punch to the gut comes out of nowhere and we realize that there is no bottom to the well of selfishness and hatred which governs us.

But hey- it rained again today. Big, giant drops fell in grace-filled abundance and for a little while at least, the living green things will survive.

I'm making our third batch of what I've started calling Samurai Gourmet soup. It's just so good and we have what we need from the garden- greens and fresh green onions and shallots and carrots and snow peas. The cucumbers are climbing the fence and blooming and the green beans are too. The peas are still producing and I have yet to pull the collards and kale and the oniony things are happily thriving.

I think that tonight I'll crack a few eggs into the soup to make it even more delicious and which will add to the tofu-goodness protein.

I may be an old dumb ass but I know how to cook.

May we all survive. May the Senate do the right thing.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Would Be Most Interested

 

To know if any of y'all have read this and what you thought of it. 

Aw. A Daddy Cardinal Is Feeding His Baby At The Feeder. And Other News From Lloyd

 

Well, y'all, it's been a real sweet day except for one thing which I will discuss in a minute but for the most part, it just could not have been a whole lot better. That is my annual picture of Confederate Jasmine (and hey! I didn't name it, okay?) which is so overpowering in its scent that you almost wish there was an off switch. But mostly you just swoon a little in the drowning sweetness and get on with your life, albeit feeling a bit drunken with it. 

So. This happened at my house this morning:

 

Lon had brought back Jessie's mandolin, THE ONE HE MADE, after some repairs and adjustments and I asked if she'd like to come join us for breakfast and she did and when she got here she handed her baby off to Boppy and grabbed that mando. She is so happy to have it back. It made me so happy when she said, "Now I need some gigs. This mandolin is gig worthy!"

I know she'll be playing a lot this summer up in Asheville and it thrills me to think of that. I still can't believe that a human person born from my loins can play music but it really is true and I'll never forget when she decided to go to nursing school and I said, "Oh honey! Are you sure you don't want to be a musician?"

Anyway, after the Great Woman-Instrument Reunion we had a fine breakfast of yard eggs and biscuits and bacon and it was so festive. Mr. Moon had even stayed home from work in order to visit with Lon and Lis and we all ate and laughed and August liked his bacon especially because as Jessie said, "He's not an ALIEN."

It was all just so dear, Jessie and her baby and her fairy godparents. August kissed both of them before they left in his charming, slightly reserved way and as you can imagine, between having Lon and Lis here and seeing August with his grandfather and just all of it, my heart almost burst and there were a few tears. 

Why do I cry so easily? 

Finally it came time for the beloved musicians to leave because they have a gig in St. Augustine tonight. I took a picture. 

Lord, it was hard to see them go. 

But go they did and then Jessie and August left and then Mr. Moon left to go into work and then I left to go pick up my MacBook which I'd gotten an email about telling me it was repaired and ready to go. 

I drove to town and got it and paid and went to Publix, all in just the very best mood and then I got home and started the old girl up and it does start up but not one thing from my old desktop did I see AND nothing responds to any clicks and none of the apps open and the dang thing won't even shut down. 

I called the shop immediately and the guy on the phone pissed me off, actually insinuating that I just don't know how to handle the new OS they put on when they installed the new hard drive. I wanted to say, "Look, little man, I've been using a Mac since before you understood that poop goes in the potty," but did not. He suggested that I bring it back in so that we can look at it together to see what's happening and I said, "I'll tell you what's happening- nothing," and then "You bet I'll bring it in."

So that was obviously the not-sweet part of my day. 

But. Whatever. 

It's just been too nice a day for such a first world problem to ruin it. 

God, that jasmine is strong. Ain't nothing subtle about it. It's like all the angels in heaven stuffed their armpits up your nose. 

More tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Keeping On

 

My MacBook needs a new hard drive according to the Computer Doctor and so it is still in the shop where I took it this afternoon and will be for "two to three business days."

Ah well. As long as they can transplant the brain properly and transfer all of the grey matter, I will consider the operation a glorious success. 

"Do you need your data backed up?" the nice guy asked me on the phone. 

"Ummm. Yes," I said. 

That would be like the biggest DUH in the world. 

I went to Publix too. That was fun. Well, okay, it wasn't NOT fun and the lady who checked me out spent the entire time praising Lily and her calm and capable manner. She said that if Lily was handling the front she knew everything would be okay. 

All of this made me glow with pride, as you can imagine. 

I remember when my babies were babies and I'd look forward to taking them to their regular check-ups because the nurses and doctors would all praise their growth, their development, and tell me how fine and good-looking they were. That's a mama's paycheck and I still don't mind collecting one now and then. 

Lon and Lis are in town for a quick visit. Mostly they're here to play at a live recording gig for a friend so I've gotten to see them long enough for a quick catch-up and a cup of coffee before they have to leave and I'll probably be asleep when they come in. I told them that and Lon said, "That's okay. We'll just come in and jump on your bed and wake you up."

"Might as well," I said. "That's what the cats do."

Sure is good to see them, no matter how long or short the time. I love those two people with all of my heart. I've been thinking recently about last year when Lis and I went to Cuba together and how amazing that was and how I'd probably never ever in this world gone with anyone but her.  

That's love, baby. 

And speaking of...

Love...Ms. Moon

A Day Like A Gift, Like A Ruby Ring In A Velvet Box

It is cool and everything is washed clean and knowing that we won't be having many more of these days for months and months makes it all the more precious. 

 

 

 

Maurice is enjoying it too. 

A Perfect Birth Day Celebration

 

It's been a beautiful day and if I'd known when I was in labor with Jessie that in twenty-eight years I'd be rocking her little boy to sleep I might have had even more incentive to be strong and be sweet and not complain.

Or, in reality, I probably wouldn't have cared and would have  wanted to GET THIS BABY OUT as soon as I possibly could. 

Because...labor. 

But. I did rock that boy to sleep today on the porch swing as the rain fell and we watched the cars and trucks go by and looked at the trees and as he relaxed and his eyes grew heavy, I sang to him and soon he fell asleep and that was heaven on this earth. 

He was such a good little boy. He asked for Boppy first thing when he got here but he didn't fuss to find that Boppy was at work and he didn't fuss when his mama and daddy kissed him good-bye but told them he loved them and we played and we played and we played. 

 

So many different toys! So many things to do and places to explore! So many books to read and animals to hug and an egg to find and a Mer to pop tiny pieces of banana with peanut butter into his mouth because he was way too busy to stop and eat. 

After a few hours he started to yawn and rubbed his eyes and we started the process of taking a nap. Because this was all new to both of us we had to work our way to sleep and we did on that porch and I laid him down on the bed and he slept for three hours. His parents had been here for an hour before he woke up! 

Well, it is common knowledge that Mer and Bop have the most comfortable bed in the world. 

 

It didn't hurt that the AC Man (known in winter as Heater Guy) had arrived minutes after Mr. Moon called him and in five minutes had diagnosed and fixed the problem so that there was sweet cool air to sleep in. 

So. All of that was wonderful but my beloved and loved MacBook has decided to quit working. 

I'd go into detail but who cares except for me and besides, I'm writing this on my phone so it's a bit of a pain in the ass. 

Normally I'd be so upset that eyes would explode but it's been such a sweet and beautiful day except for that that I just can't be that disturbed. 

I've got bean soup cooking and I'm going to make a skillet of cornbread and I got to spend time with my baby's baby and it rained some today and my air conditioner has been fixed and it didn't require a new part to be shipped from Mars and as I rocked that baby boy to sleep I sang in my softest, sweetest voice, Dona Nobis Pacem which I learned in Girl Scouts one million years ago and as I sang I could hear in my heart all of the voices of girls whom I knew then as we sang in a round, Give us Peace, Give us Peace, Give us Peace. 

And it was so. 

Happy Birthday, My Love

I woke up after dreaming that I was a substitute teacher and I had to make the main dish for my students' lunch. I was going to make them meatballs and I lived in a tiny apartment and was washing my face with Dr. Bronner's (which is what I do every morning anyway) and it was a strange dream, but not terrible, and it took me almost an hour to clear my head in the least and perhaps that's because we may get storms today (oh please, please, please- storms with rain, holy rain!) and the air does not know what to do with itself and neither do I, really.

But as soon as I woke up, I remembered that today is Jessie's birthday, for real and for true, and Facebook gave me the memory of the post I wrote for her birthday three years ago and it was lovely. The link is here. 
In that post I of course quoted what my friend Lynn always used to say which was, "First of May, first of May, outdoor fucking begins today."
Which is probably what I quote every May 1, and some things do bear repeating.

So, if you'd like, go read what I wrote about my baby, Jessie, three years ago and here's a sweet picture of the most amazing thing which has happened since then in her life

and here she is this morning with those two precious people

eating birthday biscuits in the shape of hearts that her husband made her and in six months she'll be bringing another precious one into our family and time swirls and whirls around me like this crazy wind and I am remembering the day she was born and walking, walking to make my labor stronger, walking with her daddy between rainstorms, the way that after she was born, a rainbow came to double-bless us all, and magnolia blossoms sat in vases around the room, plucked during those walks, their creamy white petals blessing us too with their scent, and how it was when she was in labor with August, as strong and delicate and beautiful as a magnolia blossom herself and it's all a dream. 

I may get to babysit for that big boy today so that Jessie and Vergil can go get some lunch, see a movie, and I am looking forward to that, having the baby of my baby to play with here in Lloyd and my heart is just filled with love and I never once dreamed that my life could be like this, that I could be this lucky, that my eternal childhood hunger for family love could be fulfilled, that a dream I didn't even know I had could somehow, miraculously, come true.