A Sunday Worth Living, For Sure

I've been limping along with my phone for the past two or three days. It just doesn't want to respond to the touch screen and yes, I've done about fifty hard-starts or whatever you call that resuscitative maneuver and I've transferred a ton of pictures to Google pictures and deleted them out of my photos and I've gotten rid of about four apps and the damn phone still tells me I'm running out of storage and like I said, it doesn't want to respond to touch and also, it's been sucking battery like DT sucks donkey dicks and well, obviously I need to take it in tomorrow if for no other reason than that my phone is how I listen to audio books approximately nine hours a day and oh, let's not forget- it's HOW I GET PICTURES OF MY GRANDCHILDREN!
So.
Important.

This morning I made a prune cake. It may have been the best, prettiest prune cake I ever made. It looked like this:

I wrapped it up and went over to Lily's and drove with her and her kids to Jessie's where Vergil's stepdad was helping him build a fence and Jessie was actually on a tiny walk, trying to get August asleep in his stroller, and Grandma Julia was holding Levon. We hugged and agreed that he is a perfect specimen of a baby. Lily held him and I held him and her children met him. Maggie kissed Levon and hugged him because she loves babies and Gibson asked if Levon could walk yet and Owen held him twice. He really wanted to. 

He's an old hand at baby-holding at the tender age of eight. I like the look on his face in the top picture. His mama told him to look at Levon like he loved him. Owen may be good at holding babies and he may indeed love them but he IS eight years old and eight-year old boys don't look at babies like they love him. 

Got it? 

Good. 

We did not stay long because the five of us were like a circus and Jessie was really trying to keep August asleep for a little while. Levon slept through it all. 

It was a short visit but a sweet visit and we all had a little slice of still-warm prune cake and Jessie said that she could eat the whole thing by herself and I told her that I would gladly make her another and I would. She looks so good, Jessie does. She does not have that mushroom complexioned, weary, exhausted look that most new mothers get but instead, looks just like herself, only even happier. As I recall, Lily always looked the same way after her babies were born. I obviously gave birth to some strong women. 

I brought Owen and Gibson home with me for the rest of the afternoon and we did all the usual things including goat feeding,

Gibson, who announced to his mama today after she made him laugh, "Mom, you break me up!"

playset playing, a card game, the matching game, having delicious cocoa and chips, AND the boys played Wii games for a little while. We saw Dearie the rooster who looks to be fat and sassy, next door in the goat pen. Since there are all those new hens coming up, I suspect he'll be happier still as they reach maturity. Unless my neighbor's roosters kill him. I finally drove my big boys back home and got another hug from Maggie June who acted as if she hadn't seen me in years. MER!!! she says, and lifts up her arms to me and cuddles into me and pat, pat, pats my back. Right now she has two skinned knees because she is a rough, tough cowgirl and I love her to pieces. And I swear to you in the one week since I have seen Owen, he has gotten taller. And quite possibly more handsome. We were looking at Levon's chin cleft wondering where in the world that came from when suddenly we remembered that Owen has one too, so I guess it comes from my family or Mr. Moon's. And I got to sniff and hold and cuddle the tiny little man and it was really good to see Julia and Hap again too. They'll be flying out tomorrow morning. Hap flies them in a little two-seater plane and that is pretty darn cool. 

My only regret today is that I did not get to see August but I'll see him tomorrow, most likely, when I take the salad and bread over to his house.

I'm going to eat some of last night's curried vegetables and chicken for my supper tonight and I am pretty excited about that. There are green beans, onion, eggplant, carrots, garlic, mushrooms, ginger, peppers, mustard greens and beet thinnings and I don't even know what-all in that stuff and it is delicious. And I started reading a book last night that had me staying up until my eyes didn't know what they were seeing and I can't wait to burrow back into my cozy bed and take it up again.
The book is Himself by Jess Kidd and at least so far, I am absolutely entranced and also completely gobsmacked that it's Ms. Kidd's first book.
I mean, please. Stop it with the talent, woman!
Not really. Keep it up. I have a feeling I'm going to want more.

So that's it. That's the story of a Sunday so busy and so happy and where I was so glad to be living this specific life that I didn't have time for a moment of angst or anxiety and days like that are rare and beautiful and I appreciate every second of them.

Big love...Ms. Moon

He Is Officially A Keeper!

I decided not to add to the busy-ness of the Weatherford household today as not only were Vergil's parents getting in but it was also the day Diana made her postpartum visit and also the day the doctor came by to check out Levon. Can you believe that in this day and time there is a doctor who will actually come to the house of home birth families to give the baby his or her first check-up there? This doctor does. And he always says the same thing which is, "He's a keeper. Start him on probiotics."
I love that.

Anyway, it was a perfect day to be outside, cool and a bit overcast and so I cleaned out the hen house and put the poopy hay in the garden and then I decided to look for the eggs that I know Dottie and Darla and Violet are laying somewhere. I am only getting eggs from Lucy and Honey and Nicey and that ain't right. I did not find the eggs but I did realize that my next-door neighbor seems to have acquired about one million new chickens. See above.
I mean, she has a LOT of birds.
I also saw an older kitten and I'm pretty sure it's feral and I'm glad it hasn't come over here to meow and beg for food because we all know what would happen and I already have an insane cat who no doubt had a traumatic childhood.

Then I got on my knees in the garden and weeded and planted some onions from last year that have started sprouting and weeded and thinned the mustards, the beets, and the carrots. Doesn't sound like much but it took me all afternoon. I also reseeded a few places in the carrot row where either nothing came up or else something ate what did.

Isn't this fascinating?

Okay. Let's talk about Louis CK's penis.
In what universe would he think that random women would just love to see it and what he can do with it?
I knew this announcement was coming because the rumors of his behavior have been bouncing about for a long time. At least he admitted that the accusations are true and admitted that his actions had no doubt hurt these women (I feel certain that there are far more than the original five who came forward) and said that he feels remorseful but he didn't say he was sorry.
You know, I sort of thought that Louis CK was one of the good ones. I mean, he does have a bit of a weird vibe about him but I figured it was just because he's a seemingly tortured soul who has the weight of the world on him.
That may be true but that is obviously not the only reason he's a tortured soul. He knew that shit wasn't right.

Well, it's starting to appear that Hollywood will soon be devoid of men who can get a movie deal or a TV deal or any sort of deal or even lunch, for that matter. Then again, Woody Allen's still cranking 'em out. Politics as well. Hell- let's face it- I bet men in every situation where they've been in power from the mightiest to the least are doing a little boot-quaking.
Of course, there's DT and he got elected and I don't want to talk about that.

Let's talk about this.

Levon napping. I just love saying that name. Levon, Levon, Levon. 

Levon, get in this house! Levon, stop messing with the chickens. Levon, you already had two cookies. Share with your brother! Levon, I just love you. Levon, you are so precious. Levon, you are peaches and cream and love and sweetness. Levon, play us a tune. 

And so forth. 

I will go see him tomorrow. I will kiss him a lot. I will smell his neck and his head and all of him that I can get my nose on. 

And now I'm going to go make some curried vegetables which will include thinned mustard greens and teeny-tiny beet greens. 

Life in my world does not suck right now. Not one bit. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Levon Appears To Be Happy With His Name

He Has A Name

Levon Cobbs Weatherford.

Cobbs because that was Vergil's grandma's middle name and she meant so very much to Vergil when he was growing up and when he was grown up and to Jessie when she became part of Vergil's family. I'll never forget her telling me about how she was there the night that Jessie and Vergil met. It was at a dance and she said that all the girls had set their caps for Vergil but once he danced with Jessie, that was it.
And I believe it. They are still dancing and I think they always will be and I think that the spirit of Grandma will always be smiling on them.

And Levon.
That's been one of Jessie's top favorite choices for a long time.
It's a beautiful name and it gives tribute to one of the mightiest and best musicians this country has ever known- Levon Helm who was the drummer for The Band. If you aren't familiar, google.

I could not be happier. I could not imagine a more perfect name for this boy, my fifth grandchild.

I am drowning in the righteousness of it all.

Hello, Levon Cobbs. You are loved.

Love...Ms. Moon

Day Two Of Life

So it's Friday night and I'm a hunting widow but that is okay. I have clean sheets on the bed, good books, all of the laundry is put up, and I have a tuna steak marinating in ginger-sesame-soy. Mr. Moon went crazy on the BOGO Eight O'Clock French Roast and I have sixteen bags of coffee.
I am not kidding you.
And it was a good day.

I went to town OF COURSE because supposedly Jessie and Vergil needed some help with August so that they could get things done but as we all know, I really mostly just had to see the babe and get my hands on him again although playing with August is never a chore. He's just so much fun. I am doing my thing with him where I have conversations with him that I know he doesn't really totally understand but if he gets anything out of them, I'm glad and I get a lot out of them. So I played with him and we read books and pretended to go to sleep and we had our first argument. He has a stuffed pelican and he told me it was a turkey. We spent at least a minute with him saying, "Turkey!" and me saying, "Pelican!" and we laughed a lot and he finally admitted that it was a pelican but I'm not sure he was truly convinced.
He's a goofball.

When I got to their house after hitting up Costco for treats and roses (where I had to announce to at least three people that my daughter had a baby yesterday), Jessie was in the tub with the new boy. It took me right back to when she was born and I took a comfrey bath with her and actually, I bathed with all of my babies, holding them in the water and watching them uncurl their little legs and arms, their eyes wide open as they remembered being in the womb. Such an amazing experience. Jessie told August that he could get in the tub with them if he wanted, but he said, "No."
He's still being a bit unsure about all of this although he did spontaneously kiss his brother for the first time while I was there and it was the sweetest.
I got to hold the baby for awhile after the bath as Jessie got dressed and did luxurious things like brush her teeth and although he'd been fussing a little when he got handed over, I got him right to sleep and sang him little baby songs that I made up and I was so loathe to give him up but my big boy wanted Mer to play with him and so I gave him back to his mother and she and Vergil got down to business, trying to figure out what to name him although...

...as you can see, he already has an outfit with his royal name on it, should it come down to that. Hank suggested that they name him Rex Racecar because "Rex" means king and "Racecar" is a palindrome and they sound good together. 

Well, they do. 

No name was decided on but I hear that they are narrowing it down and will make an announcement soon. I am feeling impatient about this but I do realize that he has his entire life to carry that name and it should be the right one. And I trust his parents will indeed select the right one because they love him and they are smart and they are wise. 

After I took my leave, I went to the store and bought ingredients to make the traditional postpartum salad, loaf of braided challah, and a prune cake. I dug out my salad recipe yesterday. 

I really need to write that recipe down because that old page from a Southern Living magazine is not going to last much longer. I'm not sure that Jessie even wants this salad but it is my job to make it and that is the way it is. She can feed it to the dog if she wants (she won't) but until I've delivered those three things to her house, I have not properly performed my motherly duties. 

Vergil's mama and step-daddy are coming in either tonight or tomorrow and I am glad for that. They weren't able to come when August was fresh-born and they deserve the joy of getting to meet their grandson when he is still so purely new. Also, August will be beside himself with joy as he loves them tremendously and they will spoil him to pieces which is right and proper.

And so all is well here in my tiny world. The chickens are in the roost, all ten of them, the church folks are singing next door, and my new grandson is doing all of the things he is supposed to do which is to nurse, to pee, to poop, to sleep and to wake. And sometimes cry. But I don't think he does too much of that although with infants, that can change in an instant or a tummy ache. Jessie looks beautiful and easy with her new one and Vergil does too, to tell you the truth.

And here he is, the little man, sleeping in a contemplative pose.

Oh, how I love him already from the top of his fuzzy haired head to the tips of his perfect ten toes. 

But you already knew that. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

More Pictures

Mr. Moon got up early to get to town to do a few things at work and then to go see our newest, who is still being called Little King at the moment. He's all packed and ready to go to Georgia, as happy as a man can be, his baby grandson arrived and all well, the bucks still in rut.
Oh my. We live such basic lives around here, don't we?

And I'm moving slow and just trying to process everything that happened yesterday and still a bit in shock. It happened so quickly! We never had a moment to wonder just how much longer this was going to take. Well, I'm sure Jessie did but the rest of us just sort of had enough time to look at each other and smile and hold each other and be happy.

So. Here are a few of the pictures that finally bounced into my in-box.

Could a woman be more beautiful? Those were taken less than three hours after that baby arrived.

Auntie May and Uncle Michael with the boy.

He studied May's face so carefully. 

The adoration of the beloved.

Here's a picture I got last night.

And here's another picture from right after the birth that suddenly appeared. 

Kissing. No one tells you how hard you can fall in love with your partner after you have a baby together. It's a sort of magic that somehow defines romance to me. 

And here's one last picture for this morning. Jessie sent it in response to me asking how August was doing. 

His daddy swaddling him like his little brother. 

Love, love, love. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Ms. Moon

He Is Here!

I got a text at 7:18 this morning from Jessie saying that she was having some contractions and this might be it and she was making pancakes and...
So for the next hour or so we all texted back and forth and I thought I'd make soup and then I got the feeling that she wanted me to come on over and maybe Boppy could come and get August?

So. Off we went in separate cars to town and when we got there, Jessie was cleaning up from the pancakes and August was running around and Vergil was tidying a few things here and there and this is what Jessie looked like at 10:18 a.m.

She was actually having a contraction in that picture but obviously, it wasn't a hugely difficult one. Boppy and August settled in to read books. 

I started cooking the chicken in Jessie's kitchen. 

May was trying to get someone in to cover her at work and Lily was waiting for Jason to be done with a dentist appointment so that he could take Maggie and so for a while it was just the five of us, hanging out and I kept listening to Jessie and I could tell that her contractions were coming on fast and were getting harder. Jessie had talked to Diana, the midwife, and she had an 11:30 appointment and was going to come by after that but I thought that Jessie ought to just let her know that she needed to come on now and so Diana changed her plans and called her students who would assist her to come on too and they got there in a little while. Diana listened to Jessie having one contraction and agreed with me that it was not going to be that long. 

The ladies set up all of their equipment and May got there and then Lily got there and Boppy took August off to play at a playground and go have lunch and before you know it, Jessie was honest-to-god ready to have that baby and she pushed for about 2 minutes (and I am not kidding you) and out came that little guy who does not have a name yet and so we can still call him King Richard although I was calling him Precious Peanut Peaches before I left the house.  

Jessie is just a goddess. That is all there is to it. And she and Vergil are the best team you can imagine. I actually got a video of one of Jessie's last contractions which is not meant to share with the world but I had to get a recording of the way she was singing her way through the pain. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. It is the sound of the creation and deliverance of life. It is the sound of the strength of all of the woman who have ever lived. 

And at 12:26, she pushed that baby out and Tanashia, the same woman who delivered Magnolia, caught him and put him on Jessie's chest. 

A tiny bit over two hours from Jessie cleaning up the kitchen to Jessie holding her new baby. 

And he is gorgeous. He wailed and cried and he turned pink as the inside of a conch shell and for that moment, the world was absolutely perfect. 

The boy seemed astounded that all of this had happened. Where was he? Who was he? What in the world was going on?

Soon enough, however, he figured out how to nurse with the ease of someone born to it (as he was because we are mammals) and then suddenly, there was Boppy and August who had just woken up from a nap in his car seat and was a bit dazed. And also, maybe confused because when he fell asleep, he'd been pretty sure that he was heading to Boppy's house with his grandfather and suddenly here he was confronting this situation which, although his parents had tried very hard to prepare him for, he was not sure about at all. 

What two-year old truly is prepared for a new baby? Who is that alien being suckling on HIS mama's nursies? Why IS his mama cuddling this...thing? Baby Brother was fine and good when he was still inside his mother's belly. But this? What the hell? 

So he mostly took the path of ignoring the baby for the most part although he did ask some questions. Mostly like, "Baby doing?" "Mama doing?" 

I hear that this morning, when August woke up, he got out of his crib and came into his parent's room and got in bed with them and they had a beautiful morning of snuggles with their big boy. A very special time before the baby came which Jessie and Vergil will never forget.

And when Hank and Rachel got there, August did say, "Brother! Brother!" to Hank, and I'm sure that soon enough, he'll be happy to have that amazing thing- a brother. And to be one, too. 

We all got to hold the little boy and after his original wailing, he became very quick to calm and he looks around with big huge eyes to see what is before him, to take in as much as he can, and then to fall asleep in whosever arms are holding him. 

What a joy. What perfection, what glory. 

He weighed seven pounds, seven ounces, and is 21 inches long. He is perfect in all ways. He has a lot of dark hair and his eyes are blue-gray and he does and does not look like his brother.

He looks like who he is. And we are all completely enchanted. 

For some damn reason that I can't figure out, some of the pictures that I've sent from my phone are not arriving into my email inbox which means I can't post them. Here's one more that I was able to receive. 

Tanasia getting a set of vitals after the birth. Oh, how I love her and Diana who have safely and beautifully helped my daughters bring four of my grandchildren into this life. 

Once again, I have to tell you that I am more than grateful for the fact that I and my daughters have been able to have home births. The difference between giving birth at home and giving birth in the hospital are like the difference between giving birth on earth and giving birth on the space station. 

Okay. That's not quite right. 

But. It sort of is. Instead of being hooked up to and surrounded by beeping machines and having strangers attend to you, you are at home, in your own bed, in your own environment which YOU control, where you can drink and eat what you need and want, where the people who love you can be with you and love on you, where instead of monitoring your progress by looking at a strip of paper coming out of a machine you are monitored by someone listening to the sounds you make, to the way you react to the contractions you're having, to the listening to the baby's heartbeat with ears instead of eyes, and when it's over and the baby is safely and joyously placed on your chest, you are home in your own bed and your sisters and your brother and your father and your mother and your son can all hang out there with you. Your mama can make a big pot of chicken and dumplings and you can take a shower in your own bathroom and put on your own clothes and your baby is examined on the bed where you gave birth and the cord isn't cut until you are ready. And there are enough hugs and tears and kisses to fill all of the space in your heart that a new life has created. 

And then everyone goes away and you and the person you created this life with along with your first child can be together in the quiet and the wonder and the peace and the joy. 

I'll post those other pictures when I can. And I'll let you know his name when his parents decide what it is.

Can you believe it? 

He is here. Shove over, universe. There's a new boy in town. 

Love...Ms. Moon, Grandmother of Five

Another Big Day

I have just not felt right the last two days and this morning I could not face a walk and so when Jessie said she was taking August to baby hour at the library and then going to Costco I asked if I could meet her and she said of course.
Baby hour is always just a joy for me. I love the little kids and I love the mamas and the daddies. I look at the mothers as they sit on the floor and handle their children and they seem so young, so beautiful and I wonder if I was ever that young, that limber and lovely and I know I was.
Eighty-five lifetimes ago, perhaps. But still...
Lord, I wish I'd appreciated it more then.
Sigh...

Lily met us at Costco with Ms. Maggie June and she and August cracked each other up and ate all the samples they could get their little fingers on. Magnolia laughed so hard in what we call the "coldy room" that I thought she was going to literally bust a gut. After we finished the shopping, the kids decided that the lined up pallet carts made the very best baby obstacle course ever.

August is eating a tomato there. Both of the children love those little cherry and grape tomatoes and if your Costco carries them, you might want to try them. I love them too. 

Mr. Moon didn't get a lunch packed last night due to the fact that he went to a basketball game after work and I didn't have his lunch box to pack so he texted us and asked if we'd all like to meet him for a noonday meal and Jason joined us too, so it was a big deal. 

Waitin' on Bop. Both of those babies just about jumped out of their skin with joy when he showed up. They flung their arms about and shook with the excitement of it. BOP! BOP! Maggie threw herself into her grandfather's arms and August kept running up to him and poking him and saying, "Boop!" and running away, giggling madly. 

I have no idea what that's about. 

I actually saw Jessie walking a tiny bit like a pregnant lady today for about one second while she was having a Braxton Hicks contraction. Little King Richard just is not ready to be born yet and that is the way it is. I mean, he may change his mind tonight but for now, he is happy where he is. Honestly, though, the last few weeks of pregnancy are all a part of labor where the uterus tones up and the cervix begins to open and the baby settles down into the best position to be born. This is all part of the process and if paid attention to, is sort of a wondrous and perfect thing. The body and the baby work together (as they do in "real" labor) and some of the actual work of it all gets done before the mother even begins to realize that the labor has truly begun. This is just one of the gozillion reasons that trying to make sure that every woman gives birth within x-amount of days of her due date and inducing her if she gets too "late" is a ridiculous idea. Some babies take 38 weeks to cook and some take 43. Sure, sometimes there is a legitimate reason for mothers to be induced but not nearly as often as the new thinking on the subject seems to go. 

Ah, there's always a new fad in childbirth which medical science deems correct which generally turns out to be false and useless and actually often harmful. 

Okay. I'm jumping off my soapbox now.

One more bit of news.

I swear to you, last week when the boy showed me that his tooth was loose, I cried a little bit. 

He's growing up. They all do no matter what our feelings on the matter are. 

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

The Power Of Prayer?

"Prayer works," said Paul Ryan today, his blue eyes rimmed with red as if he has been praying without cease since the Texas church shooting.

I had a dream last night wherein I was talking to a believer about faith and their god and I think I ended up saying, "There is not one scintilla of evidence that prayer has ever done anything at all for anyone."
Of course I also dreamed about an orgy (not as much fun as you'd think) so there is that.
And of course, prayer has done much for many people in that it calms them, it gives them hope, relief, and peace. In that, some forms of prayer are much like meditation, I suppose. Taking some time to focus quietly on something important, to try and take oneself out of the equation for a moment, to be mindful that some things are beyond our own control and that we need to accept that.
But with prayer, one often assumes that there is a benevolent, all-knowing god who will lift the burden and make things right.
I guess. Not like I'm an expert.

BUT, to offer the ubiquitous thoughts and prayers to those who are suffering after another gun-related tragedy has become nothing but a joke, a useless, meaningless mantra of ridiculousness offered up by those who could, in fact, actually do something about gun violence but who choose not to.

I've always said the patriotism gene and the religious gene have to be related.
And I got neither.
To me, it is so obvious that wrapping oneself in the flag while holding up a Bible is nothing but a taking of props to play a part convincingly enough for others to withhold criticism, to put up a curtain to hide the man behind it as he manipulates the smoke and mirrors with which to gain his own ends be they political or financial or some other selfish purpose he needs to conceal from those he wishes to use for those ends.

The best scams always involve asking for money either for veterans or for some religious organization. Always.

But back to prayer- WHY do people believe in it? Is it a sort of random reward effect in that sometimes the things people pray for actually do happen? Is it a way to deal with the vast and horrible uncertainty of life? With meaningless suffering and pain and tragedy? The pastor of the church where his daughter was among the 26 people murdered said, "I don't understand, but I know my God does."
What sort of a god would allow this to happen? To assign any sort of positive meaning to the killing of children?
A fucking malevolent one, that's for sure.
It's always seemed to me that either
(a) God is not all powerful, or
(b) God is not a benevolent and loving god at all.
I am not saying that it is ridiculous for this pastor to lean on his god. He desperately needs some sort of succor right now and if believing that there is some sense to what happened and that a loving god knew what he was doing to allow that to happen, well then- let him take comfort where comfort can be found.
Which has nothing to do with our politicians offering their thoughts and prayers for...what?
Comfort for the survivors? For magical intervention which will somehow not piss off the NRA and yet, will somehow prevent another senseless gun tragedy to occur? Because that's worked so well in the past.

Sometimes I read a few blogs by women who have deep, deep faith in various Christian religions and their take on prayer is always very similar which is that their god has their best interests at heart, no matter what happens and that god answers their prayers although rarely in the way they think they want which explains why they so often feel as if their prayers are going unanswered.
Eventually, they claim, their prayers always will be answered but their god knows what they really need and that is what he will give them in his own time frame. Which of course eliminates the need for proof that prayer works because obviously, it always works, just not in the way we think it should. And also implies that oh, we silly little humans, we think we know what we need and want but we don't. We are children and god is like a father who knows all, sees all, and hands out his favors and his magical works in wondrous ways, his miracles to perform.
So, in some sort of twisted and contrived way, god not answering prayers is proof that god answers prayers and if we don't believe that, we are failing to show faith and displeasing god.

Well. Okay. Whatever.

Yes. Sometimes beautiful things spring forth from tragedy. And often, tragedy is nothing but tragedy and there is no coming back from it.

Sometimes humans do learn from tragedy and solutions are found to prevent similar ones from happening. This is not unheard of. We are capable of learning and making things better but almost always, science and education are involved as well as innovation and creative thinking.
Work. Hard work. People in labs and in classrooms and in the field and goddammit- people in power who create laws and make policy. People who are brave and who are brilliant and who are merely doing their jobs the best they can for reasons having nothing to do with fame or fortune or political advancement.

Not people wrapped in flags and holding up Bibles that they've never read.
Not people who proclaim that instead of changing gun laws, we need to pray.

Well, that's what I'm thinking tonight.

Love...Ms. Moon

Peaceful

I finally made it to eleven o'clock last night before I turned my light out. I actually spent quite a bit of time IRONING if you can believe it but I'm listening to a good book and it was really quite pleasant, smoothing cloth with heat and the hiss of steam, listening to a well-written and well-narrated novel.
The book I'm listening to is one by Miriam Toews, an author whom I do not believe I've ever read before and isn't it a joy when we find another author to love just when we think we've gone through all of them?
Haha.
I'm sure that my Canadian friends know her name and probably her work. She's quite recognized and lauded in her home country and she should be here, as well. The book I'm listening to is Irma Voth and I'm reading it after listening to another book of hers, All My Puny Sorrows, which was probably one of the funniest and saddest books I've ever read in my life. Ms. Toews was raised a Mennonite and both of these novels have protagonists who were also raised Mennonite. I did a little background reading about the author as one does when one is enchanted and have discovered that both of these books are somewhat autobiographical which goes to say that her life has not been easy and has contained many sorrows, some of which are not puny in the least.
Also, she was in a film, although she is not an actress, made by Carlos Reygadas, who found her picture on a book jacket and inundated her with e-mails until she agreed to meet with him. There's an old review of the film by Roger Ebert and it, like her books, won some pretty impressive awards.

Anyway, I had no trouble sleeping until eight this morning. I got a text from Jessie inviting me to her midwife appointment and I went. All is well and as it should be and then Jessie and Vergil and August and I went to lunch. Of course. But before we went, August sat on his potty and his dad played trumpet for him.

August can also make a sound with the trumpet with his little boy lips and puffed out cheeks and I was quite impressed. The trumpet is so heavy that he asked me to carry it for him. 

After lunch I got to babysit the boy while Jessie and Vergil went out for a little couple time which was a complete joy. We read books for almost an hour solid which is the easiest way to entertain a child I know. And one of the most pleasurable. For me, at least. 

He is really starting to talk in sentences, albeit short ones, and of course he has me completely under his thumb and seems happy enough to spend time with me. We did take a reading break for him to eat a banana with peanut butter and he ate the whole banana, one little peanut butter covered bite at a time, his mouth open like a baby bird's, and he laughed every time I popped another piece into it. 

After I left the Weatherford house I realized that I would be getting to Owen and Gibson's bus stop at just about the right time to pick them up and so I called Lily and she said that would be fine and so I did and then I took them home and chatted with Lily for a few minutes and got to hug Magnolia who was playing outside with her pal, Wiley, whom Lily is taking care of a few days a month while his mama works. 

I came home and did a few chores around here and it's just been a very nice day. I'm about to make us some lovely simple soup with ingredients like ginger and scallions and tofu and rice ramen and a fresh egg and these.

Just picked baby mustard greens from the garden. I keep complaining that I have no real desire to work in the garden with this unreasonable and unseasonable heat but there are things coming along. They need a little attention and a lot of mulching but I'll get around to it soon and in the meantime, the thinnings are becoming part of our suppers and that is a motivational pleasure. 

It's one of those days where I am just damn happy to be who I am.

I hear an owl calling out in the woods by the railroad tracks. Night has fallen in Lloyd. 

Sweet dreams to all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Wrong

Do you have any idea what's up there in that picture?
It's a pecan tree, putting out new leaves.
It is November. The last leaves of this past year haven't even all dropped and the tree is leafing again.

What the hell?

Guess it's time to plant the tomatoes. That's what we always say when the pecans leaf in the spring.

Jesus.

Sunday On The River. Briefly.

Okay. I love the falling-back part of time change. Who doesn't? Except...
It's not even 6:00 and we've had our supper, I guess, and I'm tired and my hips hurt and I can't possibly go to bed for another three hours. At least.
ARRGGGHHHH!
What am I going to do in the meantime?
I sewed up my dress, I don't want to start any new projects, and if I go lay down and read I'll fall asleep.

And if that isn't a first-world problem, what is?

Mr. Moon and I took Gibson and Owen down to the St. Marks river today for a little boat ride, a little mullet casting, a little fishing. However, after about five minutes, the motor quit and we had to get towed back to the dock.
"Oh well," I said, sucking another boiled peanut out of the shell and into my mouth, "At least we didn't have time to run out of snacks. "

Count your blessings, babies.
One by one.

Love...Ms. Moon

Sweetness

No, Jessie has not had her baby although today is the Official Due Date which we all know means nothing. I believe that no woman in my maternal line has ever given birth before her due date.
We've just been busy over here doing fun things and resting and last night Jessie and Vergil and August came over for supper.
August was on FIRE and had been to Waylon's birthday party where there had been a pinata and he spent about half an hour describing the breaking of the pinata to us with sound effects and much gesticulating of hands and arms and extremely animated facial expressions.
It was awesome!
Apparently the pinata had been a donkey and there were TREATS!!!!!
Also, he sang the Happy Birthday song to demonstrate that and we all joined in.

He was definitely a party boy and gave kisses all around and I even got to read him one of our favorite books before they left and snuck in a few cuddles. 

Lon and Lis have just hit the road to St. Augustine where they have a rehearsal and then a gig and after that, a long drive back to Gator Bone tonight. I do not know how they do it. But they do. We were all grateful for the time change which allowed us a little dawdling time this morning that we wouldn't have had otherwise.

And it's a beautiful day and we're trying to figure out what to do with it. I am feeling torn between this project and that. I handed over King Richard's quilt last night and am now working on repairing my old blue linen dress so that it will be in readiness when Jessie does go into labor. There is talk of a little boat trip, maybe some mullet casting. We shall see how things unfold.

My heart is filled with everything right now. The sweetness of having our friends here, of the love for family of blood and choice, of the fullness of life in all ways.

And I am grateful.

Love...Ms. Moon

We Are Country Folk

Best supper ever, quite possibly.
Florida, through and through.
Collards, field peas, rock shrimp and cornbread.

Goodness and love all around.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Simple, Good Day

It has been the sweetest day in many ways and right now I am perfumed with a delicious bouquet of white vinegar, Fabuloso, pineapples, and onions.
Those things may sound like they don't go together but somehow, they do.
Listen- I am a terrible housekeeper. That's just all there is to it. Plus, I hate housecleaning. So I rarely do it. Oh, you know me- I sweep, I never leave the dishes dirty overnight and keep a fairly clean kitchen. I fold my laundry right off the line or out of the dryer, I try to keep the toilets clean and the sinks clean enough and I don't let the garbage or recycle pile up but frankly, I'd rather clean the poop out of the henhouse than dust my furniture or clean a baseboard.
But when I have company coming, I just absolutely have to get a few things in order and so that's what I did today after I walked and went to Publix. I haven't even scratched the surface of what needs to be done.
But the guest room has clean sheets, the bathroom is slightly less moldy, and the kitchen floor has been mopped.
And Lon and Lis will love me anyway, I think, and if they judge me, they keep it to themselves.
They keep a tidy house and they're the busiest, most productive people I know. I have no excuse for my slatternly ways. None at all.
Well, la-di-dah.
I'd say that my cooking makes up for a lot but Lis is as good a cook as I am and that's the truth.

Okay, okay. I am not beating myself up. I do what I can do and that's all I can do, to misquote Popeye.

Another detectorist knocked on my door today. He arrived in his work truck and still had his uniform on and had his metal detector with him and asked with such politeness if he could search my yard that I had to tell him yes.
His name was Hiram.
He found some old trash and a few modern coins but nothing of interest, really. He wants to come back though and swears he'll find an old coin. That it'll just take some time.
"This is my crack," he said, hoisting his metal detector. "I just love it."
In the summers he dives in the rivers for arrowheads. He gave me a beautiful old ink bottle that he found in another yard a few days ago. He doesn't mess with bottles. I'll post a picture of it when I clean it out. It will make a spectacular bud vase.

And speaking of which, Mr. Moon did some mowing this evening and found this.

Just a little old pitcher, sweet as can be, right on the ground by the big oak behind the church. It probably came up after the rain and the chickens might have had something to do with scratching it out. It has no markings but I think it's precious. 

That's about it from here. I believe I will sleep very well tonight. I am grateful that I've had a good amount of energy lately and I am so looking forward to seeing Lon and Lis and of course, we wait on King Richard. 

That's a picture that Mr. Moon sent me when he dropped by to see the lady-in-waiting and her son this afternoon. 

Give a good thought to Hank tonight, if you will. A very, very dear friend of his died today. 

A brother, as Hank calls him. 

Let's love one another. That's really the most important thing we can do. 

Ms. Moon

Local News Plus Gossip

Strangest walk ever. Except maybe for the time the sheriffs were hunting for a criminal and advised me to turn around and go home.

Took the sidewalk for a shorter walk because I have so very much to do today and had to duck behind an old broken down house to pee and accidentally walked through a web and the spider, a golden orb weaver, got on my own personal body and I thought I brushed her off.
I continued with my walk and found another beautiful blooming thing that I have no idea how to identify.

I snapped off a piece and brought it home and then continued on to the post office where many packages awaited me. Beautiful! I was toting them home when a guy stopped me and we had a very long conversation about people who used to live in Lloyd, etc., and that was fine except that I was carrying a big box and also, sort of in a hurry. 

Finally got home, felt something on my neck and realized that the spider had been traveling with me for about 45 minutes. 

She was fine and I was fine but I'm sure she is quite disconcerted. 

One minute she's chillin' in her web and the next thing she knows, she's a mile away from home on a porch floor. 

I put her outside in hopes that she'll relocate without too much trauma. 

Okay! That's all. It's a beautiful day and I'm about to hang sheets on the line and do about a million other things and I have no complaints. 

Also? Mick Jagger, who is 74, is allegedly dating a 23-year old. 

Guess he broke up with his ballerina baby-mama. 

Of course this could all be laptop gossip but we are talking about Mick Jagger here so who knows?

Much love...Ms. Moon

Pictures From A Day

I found those two cherubs at the dump depot, lying just like that with the saw blade dangerously close to neck and feet and I took their picture and then I took them and put them in my car.
I have no idea why. They are pretty heavy. I guess they're cement.
Right now they're keeping watch on my back porch steps and they're so tacky and so ridiculous but who could leave cherub angels at the dump depot?

I walked again today and tried very hard to walk fast and to remember to walk from my shoulders, not my hips, the way that physical therapist guy told me so long ago and it's hard but I don't think my hips hurt as much when I do this.

Pathway to the horse farm.

Beautiful little blooms whose name I do not know but I think it may be a type of Lobelia. 

A fern which has taken root in a fallen oak which is so weathered that it looks like driftwood.

A beautiful yellow-blossomed tree that I definitely should know the name of but do not. It is growing in someone's yard. I do not know his name either. 

So I walked and I cleaned out the hen house and I did laundry and all of that blah, blah, blah that I do and I also put the last stitch of embroidery in King Richard's quilt. Jessie has finished the blanket she knit for him and so now he can be born. Doing this embroidery has made me want to do more and maybe I will start on a crazy quilt soon. I've always wanted to make one. But where does one find velvet scraps? 

While I embroidered I watched a documentary on Joan Didion. The Center Will Not Hold. 

It was well done but mostly very sad. Joan Didion has always seemed to me to be a rather sad person, or at least introspective to a dangerous degree but of course that is where her art comes from. She has grown so very, very thin that it is hard to believe that she is still capable of such powerful words, but she is. She is a writer. 

She writes. 

And now I have a shepherd's pie in the oven and an extra in the freezer for after Jessie's baby comes. Lon and Lis are coming to stay with us this weekend and they were here when August was born and so...who knows? Maybe the little guy will want to come out to meet his fairy great-godparents. 

I become so superstitious when babies are about to be born. It feels like a time when all of the magic available is welcome. Not that the birth of a baby doesn't contain enough magic on its own. Of course it does. 

A life, created by two cells, grown while nestled in his mother's womb, fed with her blood and bathed in what might as well be sea water, works with that mother as their bodies conspire together for him to be born when it is time and then he is and there he is, a child, a baby, a wonder to behold and to hold and to love. 

Well. 

Time to make a salad. 

Love...Ms. Moon