And I Didn't Even Tell You About The Fried Pickles

My dream for the week came true today when Jessie and August and Lily and Magnolia AND Jason and I all went to the small and very fine little town of Monticello. And oh, it was everything I wanted.

We started out at the animal shelter thrift store and we got lots of treasures and August and I played tea party for quite awhile, pouring pretend tea into a miniature mug and stirring our pretend milk and honey and sugar into it with a souvenir spoon and tasting it by turn. I love watching children begin to understand pretend. It is truly one of the most fascinating things. That look on their faces when you first start to play these imaginary games with them and then, the quick way they jump right into it and want to do it more and more and begin to offer you sips and spoons and want to pour the tea themselves.

After we finished our shopping at Wag The Dog, we went to lunch and sat outside and August and Maggie each went from highchair to bench, back to highchair and back to another spot on the bench, generally depending on where the best food was at the moment. They also seemed to have the need to kiss all of us in turn, prompted by some inner voice, I guess, which would send them scuttling around to deliver the kisses. Especially Maggie who is the kissiest baby I've ever met and a very good influence on the more reticent August. She still likes to kiss him too, although she does not squeeze him to death while doing it the way she used to.
I believe he appreciates that and sometimes, he even initiates the kisses himself.

It was just wonderful. I love being with the babies with parents around because that is when I get to be most relaxed about it, not being responsible for their lives quite as intensely as I am when it's just me and them. I am mostly responsible for making them happy and holding them and loving them and having conversations with them and just...simply...looking at them.

So. Ms. Moon- What is one of your favorite things to do? 
Hmmmm...
Well, I'd have to say that looking at my grandchildren is one of my favorite things to do. 
You mean, watching them?
No. Not necessarily. Just looking at them. 
Looking at them?
Yes. Looking at them.
Why is that?
Isn't it obvious? Now go ask someone else stupid questions.  

After lunch Lily and Jessie and August and I went into a little shop while Jason watched Maggie. It's a shop that sells lady's clothing and jewelry and handbags and shoes. The lady working there was very sweet to August, playing peek-a-boo with him with the dressing room curtain and talking to him and then she said, "Oh! You have to try on the wigs!"
And boy, did she have some wigs.
At first August didn't quite know what to think. Okay. He didn't know what to think by the time he'd tried all the wigs on either, but he tolerated it and no one forced him and every time the lady would put one on his head and I'd say, "Go show Mommy," he'd trot over to where his mama was and show her and then he'd take it off. And of course, I had to take pictures.

He held his head so still and was so serious about it.

It freaked Jessie out to see him in the purple one because she used to have a purple wig and she said that when she saw him in it, she felt like she was seeing herself.

This one was my favorite. The Cruella DeVille wig. Quite fetching, don't you think? 

After Lily bought some new shirts and a pair of pants she had to leave because they had to go to the grocery store before they picked up the boys, and Jessie and I came on back to my house where we fed chickens and looked for eggs and played with toys and read books for a little while. 

And then they went home and I actually did the smallest amount of housework, oiling the piece of wood furniture my bathroom sink sits in and doing just the tiniest amount of dusting and sweeping and I cleaned a few mirrors and none of it added up to much at all but still, there's a sense of tidiness that there wasn't before. 

And oh...it is this time of year again. 

The pine cone lilies are back! The hallway altar is now decorated in a new seasonal arrangement. 

Fall, for me, has nothing at all to do with the dreaded pumpkin spice and everything to do with beauty berry, hurricane lilies, pine cone lilies, the bloom of the firespike, the blooming Confederate roses, and the Sasanqua camellias. The fire spike is beginning to bloom in my yard with its flower which looks like a hummingbird's invitation to the best buffet luncheon in town and I noticed the other day that my neighbor's Sasanqua is beginning to bloom, it's fragile blossom dropping pink petals on the sidewalk almost as soon as they open. I saw my first Confederate rose today, opened fully on the tree-top tall bush beside my porch as I was kissing August good-bye. "Ah," I said. "The prom queen of the flowers," which is what I always say and I probably always will. The camellias are budding up and it all reminds me that people who think that Florida does not have seasons just do not pay attention. 

As so many beautiful things are, the changes are subtle, but so very real. 

I have nothing profound, much less cosmic, to end with tonight. Not that I ever really do. It's just been an ordinary day in a ordinary life filled with all of the sweetness that that such a life can hold. 

Love...Ms. Richer Than Midas Moon

Praise Song For A Friday

I slept like a rock last night, my sturdy fan blowing any dreams into oblivion and mist, even though right before I went to sleep I read a New Yorker article about North Korea and then a short story about a grandmother who, in a state of dementia, almost killed her grandson.
Lord, I thought, as I turned out the light. Why did I do that?
Didn't matter. Someone could have come and stolen the kitchen sink and I would not have awoken from my slumber.

There's Dearie, the rooster who mostly hides during the day. He is so beautiful with the one exception of having (in my opinion) rather inadequate tail feathers.

How I love my splendid little dinosaurs.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Do Not Fuck With My Sleep.

Last night the power went out right around midnight. I laid there in the deep darkness in my incredibly comfortable bed and I just could not sleep. Even though the fan I was using wasn't worth a damn at moving any air, it had at least made a somewhat soothing (although insufficiently loud) sound and I do admit that I depend on that noise to soothe me into sleep. Every time I did drift off, my husband would turn over and that would pull me back into full consciousness or else an Amber Alert would override the settings on our phones and tell us once again to watch out for a certain vehicle because maybe, you never know, that sucker could just drive right into our bedroom.
After awhile I just got pissed. I wanted my fan back on, I wanted my air conditioner back on. And I wanted them THEN! I just could not find my lotus flower (as Lis would say) about the whole situation. And I knew I was being silly. Earlier in the evening it had rained harder than it rained during our entire little Irma experience and frankly, I was surprised that the power hadn't gone out sooner. Still, I was pissed. I was pissed at Duke Energy for not getting it back on immediately, I was pissed at Jefferson County for having so many damn trees. I was pissed at my husband because he appeared to be sleeping, albeit restlessly.
And of course I was pissed at myself for being pissed.
I finally did get to sleep and had one of the most detailed dreams I'd ever had. I won't bore you with all of those details but I will tell you that I dreamed that Mr. Moon was gone and that I'd been asleep and someone came and stole everything in our house, including (and I am not making this up) the kitchen sink. AND the bathroom sinks. Everything.
Of course babies were involved and I could not for the life of me get 911 to respond and finally, when someone did show up in a patrol car, it was just some random guy who drank all our beer and admitted that he wasn't a police officer, he just liked the "really hot car."
And oh, it went on. And on. And on.
When I woke up I knew I had to GET up so that the dream would leave me and so I stumbled in the pitch black to the bathroom and stumbled back to bed and finally, at around four a.m. my useless fan came back on and I was happy.

But anyway, this morning when I got up I was still relatively pissed. I was pissed because Mr. Moon was packing up to go up to Georgia to the hunt camp and I was pissed because it was taking him so long. I was still pissed about the power and extremely pissed that my fan had not arrived from Amazon. And I was pissed because I needed to go town to look for Owen's record player and I doubted seriously that Target would have one and then I'd have to go elsewhere and it would turn into an all-day event.

I got through all of that pissed-offedness and checked the post office (no fan) and drove to Target just praying that they had a portable record playing device and they did and I almost cried.

I surely hope that boy likes it. I'm going to give him a few albums from my vast collection, too. Maybe one Beatles and one Rolling Stone and who knows? Maybe one Bach. 

I walked around Target and got birthday cards because everyone in the world has a birthday next week and toilet paper and then I thought, fuck it. I'm buying a fan if they have one.

They had one. 

I bought it. 

When the one from Amazon gets here (if it does) I'll simply have a back-up fan. Ain't nothing wrong with that. 

Oh! I am so happy! 

It's absolutely amazing what fifteen dollars worth of plastic can do for your mood.

Mr. Moon is indeed in Georgia and I hope that no one comes and robs my house tonight (Warning! I have a gun and I know how to use it!) (That's a lie.) (No, really!) (Not really.)

Okay, okay. I have a Rottweiler. And fourteen bulldogs who wear spiked collars. 

Who are armed. 

But if they do, I hope I sleep through it with my lovely fan blowing on me and making a sweet, sweet sound that drowns out the sound of everything else. 

Speaking of sound, it's thundering again right now and I've gotten two more Amber Alerts about this green Toyota. If any of my kids ever go missing, I hope people pay attention to those things but dammit, I live in LLOYD! I'm not going to see that green Toyota. That's all there is to it. Especially not from my back porch.

Anyway, I've gotten some niggling little chores done today and my kitchen positively reeks of Fabuloso and vinegar which makes me so happy and when I open the cabinet under the kitchen sink (which hopefully no one steals tonight) I don't exactly want to die because I tidied it up and threw some stuff away and also? I got eight eggs today. Eight. 

Here's a picture of Joe Cocker who has the most magnificent comb. 

He is a very lovely rooster and I am proud of him for hanging in and working things out in a peaceful manner with Mick. And I am proud of Mick for not killing him when he was a youngster. 

I wish they could be an example for a certain Kim and a certain Don whom I do not think have the maturity or ability to understand the consequences of foolish threats and posturing to themselves and the flock that these two roosters do. 

Peace. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Surviving The Apocalypse

I seem to have moved on from house dreams to dreams of resorts or motels or hotels. Some of them on the beach and all of them odd in one way or another. Perhaps my brain is tired of concocting story messages centered in the houses, even with their basements of Titanic furnishings and ghosts, sitting at table, eternally drinking and eating and luxuriating in tuxedos and evening gowns, pearls and diamond tiaras. Or in houses filled with antiques or garbage and many stoves and sinks and refrigerators, none of which really work but with which I must create meals for many.
I have no doubt that these will return at some point but right now they have made way for these resorts which are one part old Catskills resort, one part funky old Florida beach motel, and one part which can only be described as modern, plain, ugly, and Clockwork Orangish.
I woke up from one of these this morning in which not only could I not find my suite where my entire family was staying including my mother and my stepfather (never a good thing in a dream) but wherein I kept stumbling into other people's suites where the most horrifying and bizarre things were going on. Pennyworth things. Ancient Roman gluttony things. Dirty, rotting, falling-apart things.
And I knew I had to go home but where was the baby (the ubiquitous baby I am responsible for) I had to take with me? And then news came of everyone being stuck there because the airports had shut down because a horrible storm was coming.
Hmmm...
Much of this is easily available as to interpretation and influence. Some of it is a mystery to me.
Or maybe not.
Maybe not.
But that is what I woke from this morning and I could hardly speak for trying to pull the sticky web of it all from myself and I knew that I needed to get out of the house, away, preferably with babies. So I ended up going to Baby Time at the local branch library and that was the most perfect antidote I could have been given.
I met Jessie and August there (Lily was working) and we sang and recited nursery rhymes and there was dancing and leaves made of red and orange construction paper and that one toddler whose name, by the end of it all, everyone knew because he raced around and poked his cute little fingers in everything.
(Jack.)
August was shy but he danced like a little fiend with his mama and he pulled me up to go sit with him in front when it was time to listen to a book and he patted the floor, the way he does, and said, "Sit," which I did, and my heart was healed by him and by all of the children and their mothers too.
After that, we looked for books to check out and then we went in search of a portable record player because that is what I've decided to get Owen for his birthday. I am so excited about this idea! He loves my record player and we can go shopping together at Goodwills and thrift stores for records and I hope he likes that. We went to Best Buy and they didn't have one and I determined I'd buy one off online but I can't seem to get one by Sunday when his party is. I know that Urban Outfitters has them and I will check at Target, too. We had a good time at Best Buy anyway, August running in circles around the refrigerators and stoves and dishwashers and washers, dancing on his little toes and laughing, laughing. I did get this.

It's the Rolling Stones' latest CD of old blues covers. The music CD selection at Best Buy has been "condensed" as the helpful employee said, but they had it. 

And then August took his mother home so that she could get him down for a nap and I texted Hank and he and Rachel were about to go eat their breakfast/lunch and I met them and that was a lovely bit of spontaneous perfection. 

I came home and did a few chores and it began to rain and then to pour and the sky cracked with deep, huge belly thunder and I laid down on the bed and Maurice came and joined me and kissed me on the lips and then settled down, her paw on my arm, and we slept and it was dreamless and sweet. 

Now I have pinto beans, cooked tender, simmering down to make the gravy and I'm going to make cornbread- quite possibly my favorite meal. 

Right now it almost seems as if we are living in a strange version of Armageddon. Storms and earthquakes and a leader who stands in front of the UN to make comic book threats which could easily lead to nuclear war. People are dying and suffering and the sea is rushing to flow across land in ways that no one has ever seen before, taking buildings and people along with it. The damn senate is again trying to take away the rights of millions of Americans to health care.

No matter how much we try to shield ourselves from these things, no matter how much we tell ourselves we can't do much about them, they are going to seep into our consciousness and our unconsciousness and disturb our sleep, our rest, our very souls. 

What to do? 

Go watch babies dance with their mothers and sit where they tell us to sit and be there as lap, as arms, as nest. Love each other. Believe in the things that are good and are true. 

Music. Books. Smiles. Touch. Beans and cornbread. Naps with cats while the rain pours outside our walls and windows. 

But mostly- I-love-you's, I-love-you's, I-love-you's. Don't stop saying it. Don't stop feeling it. Please.

Amen. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Back On My Knees In The Dirt

I took about an hour and a half walk this morning but please- that is so misleading. I spent at least half that time talking to my favorite Lloyd ladies.
I took Miss Liola some eggs and pickles and we chatted for a while about the storm and the grandchildren and local gossip and so forth and so on. She is a merry woman and laughs a lot and for some reason, has just loved me from the start. She always hugs me before I leave and I cherish those hugs. I took a picture of the fally-down house after I left her yard and if that tree on the side wasn't there, having grown into the little old cottage, it would have surely collapsed by now. That right bottom corner is coming apart and the whole place is leaning more and more precariously.

I will be sad when it goes entirely. Then again, that may take another decade. Who knows? The earth has its own time to reclaim what it wants. 

Miss Mable was out in her yard when I walked by and I stopped to chat with her too. It took quite a while for her to come to trust me and feel comfortable around me. She's a different sort of woman than Miss Liola. She's a proud and stridently independent woman and her house and her yard are her constant concerns. I swear, every oak leaf that falls bothers her. She pointed out a limb that had fallen in the woods that encroach her yard and told me she has to get someone to take that out because a bear could hide behind it and she can't have that. I didn't have much to say about that. It is true but I doubt it's going to happen. Still- who am I to say what a bear will or will not do? 

She asked me if I knew how to get rid of a vine and I couldn't figure out what kind of vine she meant so she took me around to her back yard and showed me. It was one of those damn invasive potato vines and I told her I had them too and the best way was to get a goat but if that wasn't practical, to do her best to pull the roots and gather all the damn potato-looking fruits it drops and burn it all. They are a horror show. I did not know that her backyard had once been a sort of nursery before she bought it and there are lovely plants back there. Rose of Sharon and Confederate Rose and camellias and sagos and all sorts of things. We talked about plants and roofs and yards. She pointed out another branch that had almost fallen, but not quite, in a tree in her front yard and said that she had to get that taken down. It was driving her crazy. "You're so funny!" I told her. "I'd just let it be until the day it dropped and it wouldn't bother me at all."

I never would have said that to her when we first were getting to know each other but I said it today and she just laughe. I need to take her some eggs and pickles too. 

When I got home I cooled down some and then got to work out in the garden and it almost killed me but goddam it, I NEED TO PLANT ME SOME GREENS! I yanked the spent eggplant and okra and hauled it to the burn pile at which point a swarm of red ants attacked my arm. They'd been crawling all over the okra and I hadn't noticed them. I about gave up at that point but for some reason, although they looked horrible, the bites didn't affect me as strongly as they usually do so I just carried on. 

They still look like a mess but they aren't itching so I'm fine. 

I sweated through my clothes and my hair and my hat but I got maybe a quarter, at least, of the garden cleared and I'd love to get the rest of it done this week so that Mr. Moon can till and then I can plant. I am sick and tired of the sad salad greens in the store. Even the ones in the fancy plastic jewel boxes, even the organic ones, are way past their peak even when they're still in the store. I opened a fresh package of arugula the other day and took one sniff and threw it all out to the chickens who probably didn't eat it. 

It wasn't fittin' as we say around here. Not even to throw into soup. 

I also cleaned out the hen house and gave my sweeties fresh hay. 

I mended a sheet and I did laundry and I just feel pretty darn accomplished for the day although I know that by bedtime I'll be doing some quiet moaning about how my hips hurt but fuck it. It's been worth it. 

Oh! I have been communicating with the lay minister but I'm done with that. His whole thing is the cliched belief that if all you believe in is science and evolution and that we humans are nothing but animals, there is absolutely no reason to act in a kind and loving manner. This always strikes me as the thinking of a person who has a great fear of doing horrible things. Of course I told him that that was insulting and pointed out that the Bible is full of rules and crap that we just simply do not follow these days (such as slavery and stoning to death your recalcitrant child) and also asked him which god I should follow, there being so many. 

He suggested a "simple" book I could read to show me the light but I told him I'd already read the Bible and that that action had actually made me the nonbeliever I am today. 

He has the religion gene. I do not. 

He also obviously has a great need to be told what to think which is something I have never been able to tolerate or understand. 

And so it goes, as dear Kurt Vonnegut so often said. 

And so it is. 

We move on. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Jessie's Face Tells The Story

What a day. We went to the ultrasound place and a very, very quiet tech began the procedure and showed us the heart and the spine and the feet and the hands and all of those parts which are so very important for a baby to have but of course, she being the tech, couldn't make the final decree on how things looked. She did say that the placenta was far away from the cervix which was terrific, and that the little guy is head down for now, at least. Then the doctor came in. Oh my goodness! He was so ebullient! He shook all of our hands and introduced himself and got right to work. He would say, "There's your sweet little baby's heart!" and "There's that wonderful brain!" He was so excited! It was beautiful. He said everything looked perfect. "You have a sweet, wonderful baby!" he said before he left, and then he shook all of our hands again, including August's and we all felt cheerful and grateful. You can see it on Jessie's face.
August of course had no idea what he was looking at but he was very patient and very good and very quiet. He and his dad sat and ate goldfish crackers and watched the proceedings just as if they were at the movies eating popcorn and watching a serious film.

Then we went back to Jessie and Vergil's house and ate soup which was delicious, and then Diana, the midwife came and all was well with that appointment. 

Except...Jessie went into the dining area to get her water and kicked a piece of furniture by accident and broke her toe. She didn't even curse. Probably because Diana was there although Diana is one of those people for whom some well-placed profanity would not be offensive. 

But honestly- poor Jessie. 

Vergil got her an ice bag and snugged it to her foot with an Ace bandage. He's such a good husband. But I felt terrible for her. 

So that's mostly been my day although I did do some ironing while watching a little crap TV when I got home and I'm mighty glad that I got to go and see that little baby although mostly he looked like a sea creature. I think his forehead reminds me of August's. Jessie says the nose is cute. 

I am sure that it is. 

Here's a picture of Maggie I stole off of Facebook because I know we all miss that little cherub. 

She was standing by her daddy watching Owen at baseball practice. Those curls. 

Sigh. 

I feel extremely wealthy in grandchildren tonight. And most everything else as well. Definitely eggs. My lovely hens gave me seven today with colors ranging from blue to green to brown to ivory to white. 

Oh hell, here's a picture with Maurice as lagniappe. 

I am very rich woman. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday In Lloyd

That's another picture of hurricane lilies I took yesterday. They are spectacular this year and seem to be popping up in places I've never seen them before which is odd. But each one is a nice surprise.

I'll be going into town soon to go with Jessie and Vergil and August to an appointment for an ultrasound. At one point, Jessie's placenta was lying a bit low and her midwife wants to get a look at where it is now. And of course, we want to get a look at King Richard although to me, ultrasound pictures always make the baby look like an alien. "See the nose?"
Uh. Not really. 
The visual sense is not my best sense.
But it will be fun.

Maurice and Jack had a spat this morning and Maurice ran into the porch and "accidentally" slashed my foot while she was in super attack mode. She also slept on my head all night.
The chickens are talking and bawking and I do believe I would find two very fresh eggs if I went out and checked the nests.

And that's the news from Lloyd this morning. A lot of nature but not too much.

Hope your Monday is going well.

Love...Ms. Moon

Don't Ever Touch Anything That Looks Like Donald Trump's Hair, Plus Other Stuff, All Somewhat Accurate

So I was out there picking up and raking up limbs and twigs and pulling some oak and cherry laurel sproutlings and also dewberry and Virginia creeper vine when I came across this.

Not a great picture but I thought, "Oh, that's so cute." It was a fuzzy little caterpillar and I sent the picture to Jessie and Lily who both immediately wrote back to inform me that I should NOT TOUCH IT and Jessie sent a link to an article entitled "Mom Hears Bloodcurdling Scream, Finds Boy Stung By Poisonous Caterpillar." 

Did I know about this creature and have just forgotten? It all seems vaguely familiar but anyway, after reading the comments on this article, I don't think I'll forget. Many of the commenters seem to agree that it's like being stung by 100 bees at the same time and thank-you, I'd rather not. Spasms, puking, and "a lump the size of a grapefruit" are also mentioned. 

It's a "puss caterpillar" and it looks like Donald Trump's hair. The adult version is the "flannel moth."

Here's a better picture which I did not take.

Now I'm sort of afraid to go outside. They can drop out of trees and bushes onto you, they can hide beneath a tree like that one I found, they can rest on a chair or a tarp or anything outside which the unwary person then picks up and...

I don't know why this is freaking me out so much but it is and now I have psychosomatic itching all over my body like you get when you find out your kid has head lice which is a whole other story but I think I am allergic to the fear of being stung by the puss caterpillar which may be a new one for the books. 

Okay. Here's something I found on FB that made me laugh. 

I mean sure- go ahead. Figure out what tree you are and read what that means. IT'S SOMEWHAT ACCURATE!

What the fucking hell? 

Here's another piece of information: Owen cut his own rat tail off today. Just cut it off and threw it in the toilet. That sucker was halfway down to his waist. His mother reports that he just didn't want it anymore which is the very best reason to cut it off. 

That's my boy. 

So, for a Sunday this has been a pretty good day. I did indeed get the front yard sorted out and I cleaned up the sidewalk area too which still had downed limbs and twigs on it. Only took me a week! Can you believe that it's only been one week since that storm did what it did, which thankfully wasn't much? 

I can't. I bet the people in the islands and Cuba and Key West and Miami can, though. 

Here's another other thing. Yesterday there was an opinion piece in the newspaper written by a local "lay minister" who asked the question "Where Was God During The Hurricane?" And then answered it with typical religious apologist bullshit basically saying that God does not punish us for stuff (Jesus already took care of that part) but does indeed offer us experiences which allow us to prove our faith and which can be a sort of divine discipline. I found the article so ridiculous that I sent him an e-mail (his address was given at the end of the article) asking about the innocent babies and children who had died or lost their homes during the hurricane and whether God thought their faith needed proving or if they needed some of that discipline and he sent me back an e-mail saying that he would respond to me when he got to a "real" keyboard but so far, I guess he hasn't. Gotten to a real keyboard, that is. 

I don't know why I do things like that. It doesn't help anyone. 

I'd like to comment on Trump retweeting a tweet from a user called @fuctupmind and I'm sure you've seen it but if you haven't, it's a "joke" wherein Trump hits a golf ball which then violently hits Hillary Clinton. Why is this man still in the White House? Why isn't he in jail? 

Who knows? Not me. 

It makes about as much sense as a caterpillar which looks to be designed to make little children want to pet it and which then sends them to the hospital in unbearable pain. 

Which is yet another example of intelligent design. Intelligent for the caterpillar, at least. 

And to end up here, finally and at long last, after I discovered what a horrible creature that caterpillar is, I tried to find it so I could kill it. I did. I really did. 

But it had disappeared. 

Don't know if I'm pissed or relieved. 

I'm going to go make a salad. 

Talk to you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Retail And Cuddles

That's Jack the cat who is so fat he fills up the entire chair seat.
That cat.
Maurice still tries to whip his ass. She weighs about as much as Jack's ears. Maybe a paw.
It never comes out well for Maurice.
It's funny that my roosters get along better than my cats.
Maurice was born to be an only cat. I don't know why Jack sticks around. I guess because we feed him enough that he's grown to obviously over-large proportions. He'll eat and eat and eat and then throw up and then go eat some more. Maurice looks at him with huge and disgusted disdain from her perch on the kitchen island as he goes about his eating disorderly conduct. But that's how she looks at everything. One night after our guests left she came and slept with me the entire night. Every time I tried to move she'd make that warning growl in her throat. She just wasn't given enough love as a child. And I can't help it. I love her tremendously. I love Jack too but Maurice is my very own familiar.

After the shower yesterday I went to two drugstores and a (shudder) Walmart to try and find a new fan. Neither of the drugstores had any fans and the ones that Walmart had were too big. So I ordered one off of Amazon this morning.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
The first review of the fan I ordered was this:

I'm quite a large man, my temperature's hot
My blood boils and churns like a cast iron pot
The last fan I had, made hardly a breeze
As sweat pools collected and I smelled like wet cheese
It made lots of noise and drowned out all sound
While meanwhile a sweat pool dripped onto the ground
I could no longer take it, my face was on fire!
I felt like a bonfire that was fed with a tire
So I looked up this fan, It had good reviews
And it could ship quickly (really good news)
It came in the mail and I plugged it right in
And felt the cool breeze make its way to my skin
I was cool! I was comfy! My attitude shifted
I felt like a schoolbus or house could be lifted
So if you are warm, or got forbid hot
PLEASE BUY THIS FAN, it's the best one I've got."

How could I not buy it?

Walmart had rows and rows of empty shelves. I think it's mostly a matter of trucks not being able to make deliveries but it was weird. Mr. Moon went to return a small part he'd bought at Lowe's and he said the line would have taken three hours to get to the front of. People were returning plywood and generators and chain saws. I can understand that people would want to return them if they really couldn't afford them but honestly folks- you're just going to have to go through that whole pain in the ass of going back to the store and re-buying these things when the next storm comes. And it will.

That's what's going on right now. Hurricane season doesn't end until November 30. 

Ooh boy. 

But today is a gorgeous day and I'm going to try to finish cleaning up the front yard at least. And here's a gorgeous picture of a gorgeous boy greeting this gorgeous day from his front stoop. 

That picture cracks me up. He's standing just like his daddy does. 

And since Jessie posted a bunch of really cute pictures this morning on FB, I might as well share this one.

He approves of his brother's new blanket. Jessie said that when she showed it to him, he laid down on it and said, "Cuddle. Nice."

Don't you just want to scratch that little back so softly?

All right. I better get out there and pick up some sticks. 

I know. I KNOW! I lead such a glamorous life. It's insane. Try not to be jealous.

Love...Ms. Moon

We Celebrated

What a perfect baby shower! There were only eight of us there and we were missing a few ladies who couldn't make it but being such a small group of us made it so sweet. We could all join in one conversation and there was much laughing and eating and...
facials and foot massages!
We don't need no stupid shower games.

Liz's house is just amazing. It is as colorful and as interesting and as eclectic as she is. Two of my daughters have lived with her. Jessie rented a room with her when she was in college and May and her first husband lived with her when they moved to Tallahassee. Living with Liz has to be the best of all worlds. You are absolutely protected by a supreme mother bear and you are surrounded with music and art and fun and the most wonderful people. Liz was with me when I had Jessie and I'll never forget that.

Here's a present Liz got me recently in Asheville.

Perfect or what? 

Here's what our food looked like. 

All of it was catered by Costco and Publix. I had so much fun in Costco buying the party food which always looks like so much fun but which I never have an excuse to buy. Fancy cheeses and crackers and baguettes and organic berries and smoked salmon and quinoa salad and shrimp cocktail AND a Tres Leches cake. There was so much food left and Lily and Jessie took a lot of it to serve tonight at the deer blind raising event. 

Which I am gracefully declining to attend. 

Mer needs some alone time and Mer is getting it right now. 

So it was a simply beautiful day and oh! here's the blanket I made for the baby yesterday. 

I'm calling it a scrap blanket because I made it out of flannel scraps from quilts I've made the children. It's sort of a hot mess but it is soft. I just cannot wait to meet this new child whom I am still calling King Richard. Gibson really does think that Jessie and Vergil are going to name him that. They still haven't decided on any names yet. Vergil is most particular about this process. He doesn't want to use any name that comes from the Bible which eliminates approximately 95% of all of the names in the world. I suggested today that they name the baby Mohammad but I'm pretty sure that that one isn't in consideration along with all of the other names I have suggested. Vergil did suggest that they name the child Jesse because Jessie was named after her grandfather, Jesse, who was named for his Aunt Jessie. I see a beautiful symmetry in this and if Jessie can get over her feeling that this would be too egocentric, I think it would be a perfect name. And her daddy would be so happy to have a baby named after his daddy. 

At the end of the day, this is Jessie and Vergil's decision. Not Gibson's nor mine nor Mr. Moon's. And just as with August, they will settle on a very fine name. Of this, I have no doubt. 

And before I sign off, I must inform you that August Glinden had his first official poopy on the potty today. 

Are we proud? 

You bet!

It's the little things. 

Love...Ms. Moon

More Hot Air

I took my shower last night (hot water!) and got in my bed with the AC vent right beside it and turned on my bedside fan which  is as big and powerful as a fan that'll fit on a small bedside table can be and it made a horrible screeching noise and then stopped.
Dead.
For those of you who have never experienced the joy of midlife hot flashes which never quite go away, this probably doesn't sound like a big deal.
But some of you, I feel, may relate to my despair.
I have another small fan and I went and got that and plugged it in but that sucker is USELESS. It wouldn't flutter one piece of toilet paper if you held it in front of it. It wouldn't blow a gnat off a tomato.
But I made do.
Some universal force is determined to not let me have cool air blowing on me.
Well.
I told that theory to Mr. Moon and he said, "Nah. Shit happens."
I love him.

So. I need to get to town and buy things for Jessie's shower and go help Liz get set up for it. After the shower I hear that there's some big deer blind project going on at Lily's. Mr. Moon was vague about that but somehow I think it's going to involve Vergil, Jason, and of course, the blind-builder himself, Mr. Moon. I may gracefully decline to participate.
Hunting season may not have officially begun but around here it is well begun. I've already been told to stop using scented laundry products.

Okay. Things to do. Places to go.

All love...Ms. Moon

Just...Grand!

Well, that's what the scene looked like in the cafeteria today when we ate with Gibson. I bet that we were the only people there who had a jar of homemade pickled okra. Or...okra of any kind for that matter. Gibson was thrilled for us to be there and hugged us both about ten times apiece. Or maybe more. He would eat a few bites and then, as if overcome with it all, he'd hug one of us again. He's such a lovey boy.
Boppy had to go back to work after Gibson's lunch so I stayed to eat with Owen and that was fun too. He was the door holder today.

I swear- that kid has grown at least another inch every time I see him. We discussed the fact that usually he has three grandparents at lunch on this special day but today it was only me. I think he was okay with that. 

The thing I like the most about grandparent's lunch day is seeing all of the other grands with their grandbabies and also, talking to the other kids at the table. As Owen and I noted, grandparents come in all shapes and sizes and ages and colors and we all love our grandchildren. It's just palpable. One little girl who ate with us when we were sitting with Gibson broke my heart though. She sort of played with her food and didn't eat a thing and finally I said, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Another little boy said, "She never eats."

And then she said to me, "No. It's my meds. I need them to focus but I can't eat." 

Yeah, speed'll do that to you, as I recall. 

What the hell are we doing to our kids? Is medication really the best way to help children focus? 

I don't know. If so, we need to figure out why the hell so many of them need that help although I'm quite certain that the pharmaceutical industry likes things just the way there are. 

She did finally accept a little bit of cantaloupe that I offered her although I know I should not have been offering food to other kids. Still- it made me feel good to see her eat that little bit. Honestly, she did not eat one other thing nor did she take a sip of her chocolate milk. 

She seemed wistful, that little girl, and so sweet. 

After the lunches, I came home and not long after I'd been here, the AC man showed up. Oh, how I could have covered him in kisses! Okay. Not really. But metaphorically, at least. 

We laughed about this air conditioner in a most rueful way and shook our heads even as we laughed. He's worked on it before. 

He found a burnt wire that had gone through the capacitor and knocked it out and he rewired the wire and replaced the capacitor and blessed cold air is coming in through my vents again. 

I gave him a big glass of ice water and he went on his way and although I had thought to go out and work in the front yard some more, I changed my mind and took the wimpy way out and sat down and made something for Jessie's shower which is tomorrow. I can't tell you what it is because she might read this. 

Hint: It doesn't look that good but it's very soft. 

Haha!

But oh, how I enjoyed myself, sitting and sewing. Truly, that has become one of my favorite activities. 

And...it helps me focus. 

So that's been my day and if it hadn't turned out the way it has with the AC fixed, I would be a weeping pile of sweaty misery. But, we shall sleep cool again tonight and tomorrow is Jessie's baby shower and that will be sweetness. Her Aint Liz (not to be confused with her fairy godmother Lis) is throwing the party and I'll be going over early to help her. Costco food is going to be in evidence. I will do my cooking after this baby is born. The chicken soup, the traditional postpartum salad and bread and prune cake. 

It won't be too long now. 

Her baby is growing so fast and she is so beautiful. She is absolutely regal and majestic and that's all there is to it. I cannot wait to meet this new little fellow she's carrying so splendidly. 

Ah, it is raining and I can't believe I'm saying this but that's so nice. 

May all be well with you and yours. 

Love...Ms. Moon

More Whining

Beautiful morning, just starting to get warm and humid. It's Friday and today is Grandparent's Day at Gibson and Owen's school and now that Gibson is in school we get to have lunch with both boys but an hour apart and it's going to be almost ninety today and...I don't know.
I might just fall apart.
Not because of the lunch which will be fun. I've bought chicken roll-ups at Costco and have Oreo's and fruit and tortilla chips and apple juice to take for the boys and for Mr. Moon and me too, but because I'm just overwhelmed, which- face it- takes about one mosquito more than usual to occur.
A week ago we were all freaking and preparing for doomsday and then we didn't have doomsday but we had all the stress and then the work of trying to put everything back together and then the power came back on and then the AC quit and I'm feeling like a little girl who wants a mommy or a daddy to come and make sure I take my naps and my baths and puts me in clean pajamas at night and has nourishing food to eat, maybe something with rice pudding involved, and why is my house developing strange odors and speaking of, there's something dead out in the yard over near the chicken coop and I'm just so tired, no matter how much I sleep.

Well, I need to go pack lunches and get dressed and get over to the school because Kindergarten eats lunch at 10:52 and we have to check in early to make sure that we're not terrorists (Steve Reed- are you and Dave okay? oh my GOD what sort of world do we live in?) and I know for sure that my boys are going to be so glad to see us and that will help. That will help.
To be loved just for being the grandparents.
And bringing Oreos, of course.

I think I need a backbone transplant. I think I need to pull it together. I think I need to shut up and cowgirl up, cupcake, because this is life and right here, right now, it may feel overwhelming but in reality, it's all just fine.

Happy Friday (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Are You Kidding Me?

Even though I got to hang out with this guy for a few hours today

and he did not make one fuss, not ONE, and we had a very good time and threw goldfish crackers into each other's mouths which is hysterical, and read a bunch of books and played with toys and made a fort...even though all of that...

I am SO PISSED!

Why? (First World Problem Alert) My air conditioner is not working. 

This damn thing has been one problem after another for thirteen years and everyone who works on it says the same thing, "Well, I've never seen this happen with this unit before."

Whatever. 

I'm sure life will go on. 

But I'm still pissed. 

So Far Today

Hurricane Lily in sunshine.

From left, clock-wise: Eggs by Trinky, Darla, Nicey, either Owl or Lucy. 

They do good work, those girls. 

Better

I feel like a completely different person this evening.
I certainly didn't get everything done I wanted to but I did enough to make me feel better. Lots of laundry, two freshly made-up beds, a few floors swept, kitchen tidied, and one cartload after another of twigs and branches and limbs picked up and hauled to the burn pile. I also did a bit of pulling of weeds and trimming of palm fronds as I went and I also went through sheets and took out a pile that need to be given away or donated because I don't have those sized beds anymore.
The front yard is far from done but I made a good start and no one's going to fire me for not finishing it up in a timely manner.

Then I came in and drank an iced shot of espresso, took a warm shower, not a freezing cold one, washed my hair, dried off with clean towels, and then...turned on the air conditioning.

Lord. You would think that I'd been out in the wilderness for forty days and forty nights, living rough under a rock, instead of having to suffer without full electricity for TWO WHOLE DAYS!

I'm so spoiled. And so are most of us, to tell you the truth.

Well, at least I know I am and it's good to be reminded of that fact now and then. It renews your appreciation to go without for a few days, whether we're talking about electricity or coffee. That coffee part is purely speculative, by the way.

Want to hear something funny? My big toe on my right foot has been hurting and I honestly thought there was a splinter in it but Jessie looked yesterday and proclaimed that it merely had a small crack in it and what I thought was a splinter was dirt. Okay. Sure. I walk around barefooted or in flip flops all the time which explains the dirt but I could not think of how I could have hurt it. And the other toes on that foot sort of hurt too.
I figured out why just now.
It's been such a rainy summer that all of my doors are swollen to the point that some of them won't entirely shut and it's hard to open them. When my AC is on, I shut the back door to the porch and I go through that door about a hundred times a day. During the hurricane and the cooler temps and the lack of power I mostly didn't shut the door but since I turned the air conditioner on, I did. And when I just went back into the house from the porch, I went to open the door which was sticky and kicked it at the bottom with my right foot which I now realize I've been doing for weeks and weeks and that's why my toes hurt.

Mystery solved. I'll start kicking it with the other foot now.

Love...Ms. Moon

The Subject Of Power And Luck

We were just snuggled into bed last night being grateful that it was cool enough to sleep comfortably when suddenly, my bedside fan came on.
A miracle! Electricity!
I was ready to take it for what it was and go on to sleep but Mr. Moon got up and unplugged the generator from everything, plugged everything back into the house current, took the snaking power cords we'd been living with and tripping over back out to the garage, and even set up the coffee for this morning's brewing.
That man. He just takes care of business.
Meanwhile, it felt like a struggle for me to plug my phone in.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

Instead of being simply grateful for what we have, what we avoided, I am on the verge of tears every moment. I look at the branches I need to pick up and instead of just being silly with glee that all I have to deal with are branches instead of a damn tree in my house, I am overwhelmed. I see all of the tracked-in dirt everywhere in the house and sort of want to die while at the same time, feel incredibly guilty that I feel this way when so, so many people have lost everything to flooding and are having to rip their houses apart to dry and repair them. I open my cold refrigerator and upon seeing that still vast vat of soup, wonder why in the world I made so fucking much of it. I put another load of laundry in and yes, I am so aware of the fact that I CAN DO MY LAUNDRY inside of my own house but also overcome with the knowledge that laundry is never done and also that almost no one else in Jefferson County is able to do their laundry today and according to reports, may not have that ability until next week. Hell, I'm sitting here writing this soul-dredge on my charged-up laptop and have wifi!
My children, my grandchildren, my chickens, my cats- all fine! I didn't lose so much as a carton of ice cream. Hell, we had so much food that my chickens are feasting on the remains of this leftover and that one. So far they've had watermelon, cornbread, field peas, and salad.
And one giant cockroach that I discovered in my dishwasher when I went to start putting dishes in it. Miss Dottie snatched that beast right up, swallowing it down her craw as she ran being pursued by the other jealous hens.

I guess this is just the way of it when depression and anxiety ride your back like an immortal monkey who holds on with a grip that never loosens. He whispers in your ear things like, "Yeah, this time you made it. This time it was all okay. But what about next time? These storms are just going to get bigger and more frequent. And why are you so lucky? You don't deserve this. You don't deserve electricity or running water or food or the health of your family or your husband or any damn thing in this world more than anyone else. The shit will come down on you eventually. Just wait and see. Just wait...and see."

And this is simply how it is.

And so, you download a new book on your phone (another undeserved perk of the universe from being born in a first-world country) and plug in your earbuds and you do the laundry and you clean things up and you go outside and you pick up branches and haul them to the burn pile and you stop to take the cloth from your pocket and wipe your brow and fold it back and put it back into your pocket and suddenly you feel as if you are channeling your grandfather whom you saw do that exact same thing a hundred times at least as he worked in the yard, slowly and steadily, throughout your young childhood, often after a hurricane or storm had wreaked havoc on his trees. You do what needs to be done and you are always grateful and you are constantly yelling at the monkey that no, you may not deserve any of your blessings and the shit may indeed come but this is just life and goddamn it, shut up.

Having said all of this, I remember an incident which I'm sure I've talked about before and it was the straw that truly broke this camel's back when it came to my relationship with my mother and is so very illustrative of why I probably have these feelings because I feel certain that the same message was given to me my entire life.
It involved money, of course, and this money had come from a trust that my brother and I received upon the death of a great aunt on my father's side of the family. We had known this money was coming and C., before he and my mother divorced, had talked my brother and I into giving my mother (and thus, him) a share of what we were to receive. Long story short, Mother did not end up getting the amount of money she thought she deserved and she was angry. We were talking on the phone and she said, "You did NOTHING to deserve this money. I was the one who had to put up with that family and your drunken father!"
"But Mom," I said. "That's what an inheritance is. It is based simply on blood."
"Well," she said, "I still don't think you deserve it."
And then I said, "I didn't deserve to be sexually abused either, but that sure happened."
And she hung up the phone and that...was...that.
Things were never the same again. Or perhaps, they were, just more so.

And now I'm going to go get my life better back in order and I have to remember that my mother did work hard and saved hard and was always thrifty and that somehow, money meant love to her in some way because she had had to do without much of it for some frightening parts of her life.

And I am a lucky woman and I do indeed have power.

Love...Ms. Moon

Post Storm Report

Well, we still don't have power but that's all right. We have the generator and we have water and we also have the phone line back which means that we can access the internet which is good because I was feeling lost and bereft.
I hate to admit that but it's true.
Our company left early this morning and made it home to Tampa. They have power but a lot of people down there don't.
Everything in Florida is down to that right now- Do you have power?
I picked up some branches this afternoon and hauled them to the burn pile and then strolled to the end of the block to see if I could see any Duke Energy repair trucks glowing like holy things on the road, but I did not. Mr. Moon saw some on his way home from town.
When I was walking back, a woman in a truck stopped and said to me, "You got power?"
"No m'am," I told her. "Do you?"
"No. I live in Monticello. My son in Tallahassee just got his back on."
"That's good. Did you get any damage?"
"Nah, just a few branches down. Everyone saying that storm was gonna be so bad. It just wasn't."
"I know. It was crazy."
"Everyone going crazy," she said. "They need to trust in GOD!" She pointed to the ceiling of the truck. "The man upstairs!"
"That's right!" I said with all of the unbridled enthusiasm of a river-baptized, five-nights-a-week-church-going BELIEVING woman.
What the fuck ever.
Tell that to St. Martin.
I guess we just have real good prayers here in the Florida Panhandle.

We did all freak out but fuck if they weren't telling us to. Except for one local meteorologist named Rob Nucatolo. I came to love that man. He does FB chats and the weather on a local channel and he'd say things like, "Look, they keep saying we're going to get hurricane force winds and massive flooding up here and it's just not going to happen. If you want to get all freaked out, go up a few channels. They'll be glad to help you."
Then he'd discuss things like SCIENCE and PHYSICS and tell everyone to calm down.
I wanted to believe him with all of my heart.
And he was right.
He was right about where the storm was going to go and who would be affected and how. He didn't make light of anything but he just told what he, as a long-time meteorologist foresaw happening.
He helped me for sure.

Anyway. Shit. I've got the blues for some reason and I have no right to them at all. We had no real damage and I didn't even lose sleep. We ate like royalty and our freezer full of stuff is absolutely fine. The temperature is mild. I have running water! I don't have hot water but so what? I turn on the faucet and it comes out! Water! I have internet! I have about a thousand branches to pick up but that's no big deal. I even went to town and got to hang out with Jessie and August and then we went to lunch with one of her housemates and Lily and Owen and Gibson and Maggie.
I took pictures but they all suck.
So why am I feeling this way? I have no idea.
Adrenalin-drain hangover?
We sure were pumped up for about a week beforehand. Irma took over our LIVES! Our highways were filled with evacuees. Our town was filled with evacuees. We bought everything on the shelves at Publix and Costco. We prepared and then we prepared some more. We boarded windows and cleared the yard. We put mattresses in hallways. We watched the Weather Channel incessantly. We checked Irma's progress and the forecasts online like we were being payed by the hit. We cut down trees and trimmed branches. We drained the entire state of available gasoline and canned ravioli.

But. It's so much better to be over-prepared than it is to be under-prepared. And there were parts of the state hit hard and it's going to be a long time before things are anywhere near back to normal.

I tell you what, though. Those two kids who stayed here may have had one of the best times of their lives. They were just precious. They loved my chickens so much I couldn't believe it. They loved our house, they loved our trees, they loved the train tracks, they loved it all.

That's them, Grace and Cam in front of the big oak in our front yard. They really are that affectionate and loving towards each other. Cam asked if they could take home some of the eggs they'd gathered and I told him of course and packed them all up for the trip to Tampa. He wanted to show his daddy. 

Their parents have done so well with them. 

And speaking of chickens, they're all fine. If Dottie was a mammal, I'd say she's weaned her babies. She's pretty much completely disconnected from them and it seems as if the transition has been painless. She's a very fine mother. 

So that's the news from Lloyd where I can't complain but somehow do anyway. 

Love...Ms. Moon