How To Survive Summer

We made our first trip to the Wacissa today and it was heavenly. I really needed that cold water as I'd walked five miles and I have decided that five miles is absolutely my limit in this heat and I have also decided that if I don't get up earlier in the morning to get out there I am truly ready to be put in a facility because as I thought today on the last stretch of road which is a pretty steep hill and not very shaded, "I'm playing with fire here."
No pun intended but honestly, this is how people get heatstroke.
When I got to the river, there was no one in the water and only a few people there but by the time Jessie and Vergil had come in from a little kayak trip and Lily and her kids got there, the water was filled with children playing. A local woman whom I recognized showed up with her kids and she has at least nine or ten of them. I'm not sure of the real total but at least that many. And I have to say that those were the most well-behaved kids I ever saw and all she had to do was to tell one of them what she wanted done and it was done. No arguments, no fussing, no whining, no fighting.
I guess if you have that many kids you HAVE to be in charge.

It was so good to see Owen and Gibson. I hadn't seen them in forever. I talked to Owen and said, "Hey, I've been trying to think of things we can do together this summer."
"Well," he said, "I'm pretty sure that Boppy has a lot of fishing planned for us."
Is he telling me that he'd much rather be fishing with his Bop than doing anything with me?
Why yes. Yes he is. But that is okay.

I have decided that Maggie is the cutest little girl in the world. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Here's a picture I took today.

Oh. Wait. That's not Maggie. That's the Campbell soup girl. Here's Maggie.

She is way cuter than the Campbell Soup girl. Not a very good picture and way too much shade but it's so hard to get these littles to pose for me. 

Here's August sitting on a rock. 

Again. He would not pose. 

I asked him if he'd seen any alligators on the kayak trip and he said that yes, they had. Any manatee? No. Any birds? Lots! 

Vergil confirmed this report. 

We played in the water and mermaided in it and shivered and squealed and August wanted to jump into the river via the rope swing so bad. He really just is not ready for that yet. Maybe when he learns to swim...

But Vergil did jump into the water off the platform with August on his shoulders which made the boy incredibly happy. 

We all had a good time, even Levon who loved and didn't love the cold water. I think he loved it more than he didn't love it. He didn't cry or fuss about it but he did make some funny faces. Maggie is becoming a little fish and Owen and Gibson already are. Their other grandma has a real pool and they get to spend a lot of time in it. August is going to be taking swimming lessons this summer which is a good thing for a child in Florida. Or anywhere, for that matter. 

So it was a perfectly perfect summer afternoon and we had crackers and chips and guacamole and sandwiches and edamame beans and apples. The only downside was the fucking horrible evil mean terrible yellow flies. I managed to kill two, one full of blood, but still have a fat ankle from one particular bite. I don't think I react quite as much to them as I have in the past but it's still a terribly unpleasant experience. 

Before we left, Vergil asked Owen and Gibson if they wanted to go out for a little kayak ride and of course they did and of course Maggie June wanted to go too. And so they all did. 

Hurray for Uncle Vergil! He even took Owen out to see some alligators after Gibson and Maggie got dropped off back at the beach. They did not particularly want to see alligators. I hear it was a successful trip. There seem to be an awful lot of alligators on the river this year. I have no idea why. 

And there you go and there you have it. The Official First Wacissa River Trip of 2018 and we all lived to tell the tale although August did fall off a small rock which he was climbing and which somehow rolled over his arm and pinned him to the ground. His father had to free him. Thankfully, he is fine with only a few scrapes but it scared the hell out of him and he cried and cried. It could have been so much worse. And now he knows something he did not know before about climbing on rocks. The best lessons are the most painful, aren't they? 

For all of you who have been asking about Mick (and thank you) I am happy to tell you that he is doing quite well. He is, as we in the nursing profession say, able to perform his activities of daily living. Yep. His ADL's are coming right along. Walking, crowing, scratching, keeping up with the hens, getting up on the hens, and he is able to fly up to his roost nest every night where the young Jungle Fowl like to huddle up together behind him. 

Have I already told you that? 

Well. Whatever. 

Here he is. 

His backside still looks like hell but not raw or infected. Just bare. He does still have about two smallish tail feathers so he can shake them if the need arises. 

We should all have tail feathers to shake if the need arises. Or the urge. Or simply a passing fancy. 

You know what I'm talking about. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I'd Say "Can It GET Any Hotter?" But I Know It Can. And Will

Oh, y'all. It is just so fucking hot here! Supposedly it's about 92 but it feels like whatever temperature hell is. I went out and pulled up all the kale and fed it to chickens and goats and by the time I got to the goat pen all of the colors in the world were looking really bright and fancy and a little weird and I said, "Well, that's enough of that bullshit," and put the yard cart away and came in the house.
Here's a thing I found on Facebook recently.

I would say that's fairly accurate although I don't agree with only 1% of us being afraid of hurricanes. I think it's about the same percentage of those of us who are afraid of a broken AC because as we all know, hurricanes inevitably cause days or weeks of power outage and if there's a power outage, you can't use your AC. 

So first of all, Mr. Moon and I both slept for a crazy number of hours last night. We didn't go to sleep until around midnight which is late for us but he didn't get up until almost ten and when I got up, I could NOT reconcile what the wall clock in the kitchen was trying to tell me with those little hands and numbers with reality until I looked at the digital clock on the stove and it said 10:41. 

Excuse me? 

For a minute I felt really guilty and weirdly anxious like part of the day had disappeared without any scientific reason but then I got over it and made pancakes. 

After I came in from the garden I decided to do a little more embroidery and continue watching a Netflix documentary I started watching yesterday and so I did that. What I'm watching is called The Keepers and it hits all the really light-hearted and amusing topics like child abuse by the Catholic church, cover-ups by church and police, murder, recovered memories, women who are not believed, how the church and the police get away with that shit, and so on and so forth. 

You'd think that as a survivor of sexual abuse I would not have any desire to watch things like this but you'd be wrong. It is incredibly validating to me, at least, to see other women who have experienced childhood sexual abuse and how we all share so many feelings and emotions, not to mention how these things affect our lives up to and until the day we die. And I don't find this documentary especially triggering because I know what happened to me and I know who did it and I no longer struggle with any feelings of guilt or shame about it. Of course, it took about a million years of therapy and going to a group for sexual abuse survivors to get here and of course, I'll never be what you might call "over it" and I'm sure there are still plenty of tangled roots and knots that I'm not even aware of and which I may never sort out but all-in-all, I think I have a pretty healthy awareness concerning the topic. 

And I KNOW that every bit of information which comes out about how molesters get away with what they do is going to help. Education is the only answer because I am cynical enough to believe that there are always going to be monsters who prey on children. 

And they are. Monsters. 

And I also believe that the Catholic Church will never be able to redeem itself for what its priests have gotten away with for eons. It just won't. It has spread more evil than it could ever hope or pretend to provide in solace or salvation. There are not enough words in the world for me to say what I really think about that. And it's not just the Catholic church, of course. But I doubt any other religion in the world has ever been responsible for such vast cover-ups and releasing of known pedophiles back into churches to prey on other children. 

My post on religion may still be brewing. Stay tuned. 

Here's the entire amount of embroidery I got done today. Okay, okay. Let me be honest. I did the center of the flower and one or two petal outlines yesterday. 

Thank goodness I don't have to support myself with needlework. 

I would have more luck trying to support myself with cooking. That's a pineapple upside down cake that was merely a gleam in Mr. Moon's eye an hour ago. I was telling him what we were going to have for supper and he interrupted to ask if it would involve chocolate cake. 

"No," I said. "But I can make you a pineapple upside down cake."

He said that would be fine and so I did. It's my ability to make things like this from whatever I can find in the kitchen which got me labeled as a goddess now and then back in the hippie-stoner-munchy days. Sure wasn't my ability to sing, play guitar, or dance like a wisp through the gloaming. 

We got through another Sunday. 

Phew. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Wasted Day

Today I just haven't been able to get the gears to mesh together in the correct way. They've whirred and spun uselessly, making noise but getting nowhere.
Or at least that's how it feels.

And I just deleted about six paragraphs of Bitchy McBitch Bitchiness about things that annoy me, mostly religion but also the phrase, "You got this!"
Do I even need to say what I think about that?
Isn't that the hip new version of God doesn't give us more than we can bear?

See- this is what I'm doing-  I'm using my own frustration and feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy to point out the faults in others. Now a lot of people have made a fortune with this technique. Think Donald Trump. Think Howard Stern.
I, however, am never going to make a fortune with any technique. Not culinary, not literary, not domestic, not sexual.
Nope. Not gonna happen.

Meanwhile, I finished Maggie's dress and the buttonhole situation looks like hell and if I had any pride at all I'd throw the whole thing away but I don't have much pride so now I'm just embroidering the dress which will scream, My grandmother made this and she is old and getting senile!

I don't have one damn thing to say beyond that except that no, I do not enjoy getting older. Not one damn bit. And that I've lost my wireless headset somewhere in this house BECAUSE I AM GETTING OLD AND CAN'T REMEMBER SHIT. Like, the other day I went to put my folded laundry away only to discover that I already had done that and I was like, "Wow! Thanks, Myself!"

I'm going to go cut up vegetables.

Love...Ms. Moon

Friday. And You Know What That Means! Clean Sheets And Martinis!

Got a text from Jessie this morning that August was running a little fever and had complained of his ear hurting and some of his lymph nodes were swollen and tender (it's hell having a nurse for a mother) and so she'd made an appointment to take the little guy to see the NP at the doctor's office. Of course she was second-guessing herself within the hour because he seemed to be feeling better and said his ear didn't hurt any more but as every one of you parents know, these things ALWAYS happen on a Friday and earaches always show their true raging presence at two in the morning.
So she took him in and dang if he didn't have an ear infection and so he's on amoxicillin. His white blood cell count was quite high and his little ear was red inside.
But I think he'll be fine and here's a picture of the sick child having an ice cream cone to soothe his woes and pain.

Jessie said he refused to even let her try a bite. The darn thing's as big as he is. 

I'm not really feeling that well either to tell you the truth. My throat's still a little sore, I have a cough and a whole lot of snot. And not much energy. 

Lily reports feeling the same. Here's a picture she sent of her drinking tea with little Bella, the kitty that Jason saved. 

Bella looks fine. Lily looks a bit miserable. 

Great way to start out summer but what can you do? 

Anyway, I determined to take it easy today and mostly did but not really. You know me. I washed sheets and hung them on the line and picked up a bunch of downed branches in the front yard and cut back some of the horrible thorn vine which I have no doubt is the spawn of Satan. I pulled up the rest of the pea vines and fed them to the goats and chickens next door. 

And then I did something I really hate doing which is dusting and I also cleaned the mildew off of the door frames in the hallway, neither task being that onerous but I can't help it- I hate cleaning. I just purely hate it. I don't know why. So mostly I don't do it. I would so much rather work outside in the yard or garden even though that is way more physically taxing. And in this heat, possibly deadly. I'd say that it's because house cleaning is never truly done- as soon as you get something dusted it begins to collect dust again- but neither is yard or garden work. Get that garden weeded, go in to get a drink of water, come back out and the dollar weed will already have snaked its way through the cucumbers while your back is turned. Pick up fallen branches and haul them to the burn pile and within a week the approximately eight thousand trees on this property will have dropped another ton of them. 

I don't know. And I don't hate everything associated with housework. I don't mind sweeping or doing laundry or making the bed and I love to cook for the most part but ask me to clean a shower or a toilet or mop a kitchen floor or GOD FORBID! clean a baseboard and I'll politely tell you to go fuck yourself. 

I really do need either a cleaner or a Roomba. Or both. Because I do like the way a tidy, clean house looks and smells. And I do manage to mostly keep things fairly neat. I certainly never leave dirty dishes in the kitchen or stuff strewn around but it's the actual cleaning that I hate. The very words deep cleaning make me sort of want to die. 

The only time I've ever truly kept a house spotless was years ago when there was nothing in my life I could control except for the spitshinyness of every surface in that house and what I ate so I had a very clean house and was very thin.

Not healthy. Not healthy in the least. 

But man, you could eat off my floors. And I could buy my clothes in the little girls' department. 

Looking back, it really wasn't worth it. 

Good Lord! What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Not feeling that well but getting a few things done and how much I hate cleaning. And August having an ear infection. 

So it's Friday night and Mr. Moon is slinging mud as he says, which means he is laying tile, and I'm about to make some chicken quesadillas and guacamole for our supper. 

We're having martinis. Mr. Moon is enjoying being off of his antibiotics and his stomach is finally getting back to a bit of normalcy. 

The little chickens and the big ones are blending nicely. I saw some of the young ones pecking peacefully right beside Mick today which made me so happy. Mick was able to get up into the roost last night which is definitely a good sign. I'm not sure he'll ever grow his tail feathers back but time will tell. 

Meanwhile...where is Melania? 

Something ain't right and we all know it. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Rite Of Passage

When I met Jessie at Costco today, I said, "Levon is big enough to sit in the seat now."
She pondered this and said, "He is!"
And so she set him in the seat next to his brother and there you have it- Levon being all big boy and stuff and August proud of his little brother and his little brother proud of himself.

So much more to see from the vantage point of the seat in the cart than from his car seat in the basket of the cart or even from the wrap his mama puts him in where his view is basically her chest. 

Can you see those two perfect little teeth? 

But it occurs to me that of course a baby's desire to see more of what's going on in the world develops right along with his or her ability to be in a position to do that. This is so obvious that it goes without saying but still, I don't think I've ever really put those two things together like that in my mind.
I'm slow.
I realize that.

So we had a good time at Costco and August was all about his Mer today. He wanted me to push the cart and I did. When I got a sample of some chicken stir fry thing he went a little nuts though.
"Don't eat it! NO!" he said. I'm not sure why he felt so negatively about a tiny cupful of rice and chicken and vegetables but he did. At least when it came to me ingesting it.
I, however, was starving and said, "I'll just eat it over here where you can't see me," and ducked behind a display of something.
It was pretty delicious and I haven't died yet so...
August always wants to see the giant frozen crabs at Costco. This is a thing we do every time we go. We look at those crab legs which are bigger than his legs and the absolutely enormous Alaskan Crabs which sell for almost $300 apiece.
Do people really buy those? They must. They should sample that shit.

When we checked out, the lady who unloaded our cart was the same lady who thinks August is the funniest guy in the world because when she asks him how he is, he always says, "Pretty good." She asked him today and he told her he was pretty good and she laughed and laughed and said, "I'm so glad you never change!"
August likes her. Last time we saw her he wanted to go back and see that "sweet lady."

So it was a good time at the Costco as almost always and I was glad because I've been a bit down today. One of those days where the tears are just right there behind your eyes, waiting to gush at any stray word which triggers their release. Feeling as if my life is as meaningless as a vestigial tail although not nearly as interesting.

Well. I don't need to dwell on that one.

Today was Owen and Gibson's last day of school for the year and I am looking forward to trips to the Wacissa and lunches at Japanica with them. I need to see more of those boys. I need to figure out some projects I can do with them that will keep them interested. It's not as easy as the old days when they were completely happy to sit on the stairs and have me throw a big, soft ball to them and have them throw it back while we listened to the Rolling Stones.
Oh. Those were the days, my friend.

This is what it looked like when I took my walk this morning.

Heat and moisture. I did get out a little earlier but it was only the slightest bit less torturous. 

You should see the mosquitoes which have hatched and are hungry since the storm. 

No. Not really. No one should have to see this many mosquitoes. Deet is our friend. And don't suggest anything like lavender oil because that stuff does not work for mosquitoes who are this desperate to suck blood. Trust me on this. 

Love...Ms. Moon, The Incredibly Pitiful Grandmother Whose Tick Bite Still Itches

I Celebrate The Small

It wasn't raining this morning and my cold is but a tattered remnant and thus, I had no excuse not to walk and so I walked and it was hard.
It was really hard.
I simply HAVE to start getting out earlier when it is a little cooler.
I remember when Hank and May were teens and Lily and Jessie were still quite young how I would get up at 5:45 almost every morning and walk for an hour in the dark neighborhoods, simply because that was the only time I had to spare. My god, but I was so motivated then! I remember how it felt though, seeing the houses come awake, coming to know which houses started their days earlier than the others, feeling sorry for the sleepy children who had to be shuttled off to child care so very early so that a parent could get to an early morning shift somewhere. I walked those same streets for years, the only alone time I had all day, and as hard as it was, I think I cherished it too.

"Cherish" is not the word I would use to describe my walks but eventually, when it cools off again, I think I will.

Nothing really going on in my life right now. I suppose the biggest news is that last night almost all of the young chicks decided to spend the night in the hen house with the grown-ups. Was this a group decision? Is there a rooster in the bunch who dictated this behavior? Or was it a sudden instinct, a knowing, of them all that now it is time? I have no idea but as with so many things about chickens, I am so delighted to watch this behavior, to see how they seem to know what to do and when it's time to do it, all on their own. I wonder when we will start getting eggs. Not for months, I am sure. And until then, I will just cherish them for their presence in my life, their funny ways, their innate intelligence about all things chicken, and enjoy watching them grow and develop into such different, beautiful birds.

The black-eyed peas and okra are coming up. All of this rain has just pushed them out of the dirt.
Mick is doing okay. Every day he seems a little bit better. I can see him right now, standing sentinel by the hen house, waiting for his ladies to come in safely.

And so it goes, once again. A day of sweating and laundry and doing the grocery shopping and ironing some shirts and trying to figure out what to make for supper. The pieces of the puzzle which, when all fit together show the picture of a mostly uneventful human life. I think that some people's lives would require those teeny-tiny thousand puzzle pieces while mine is more like a puzzle for a preschooler- big, sturdy pieces that you can put together on the floor and even stomp on to make the pieces fit.

I'm not complaining.

I'm making risotto tonight. I'm pretty excited about that.

Love...Ms. Moon

Theories

Ms. Magnolia June was happy to come and play at Mer's house today. First thing she wanted to do was to go wake up the dollies. Which she did. They were sleeping right where she'd left them the last time she visited. We had some eggs and toast for our breakfast which we both enjoyed and we walked through the rain to go let the chickens out. When it cleared some, she wanted to go feed the goats, so we did.

I wish I had a nickel for every picture of a grandchild feeding that particular goat I've posted on this blog. Maggie rubbed its little nose and shrieked with delight. 

This was unlike when she tried to pat Maurice who scratched her arm and made her cry. Which did not last long. It wasn't much of a scratch. But JESUS, Maurice! What the hell? Jack, of course let her pet him and snuggled up with us and purred because he's a normal cat. 

Well, normal for cats. 

The other night Jack did something that I'm still sort of boggling about. Before Mr. Moon comes to bed, Jack and I get all cozy in the bed and I read and he tries to get between me and my book and he taps my face or my arm with his paw which can be annoying but I tolerate it because he just wants attention and don't we all? 

Often, when my husband gets in bed with us, we spend a little time telling Jack how handsome he is and we pat his head and stroke his back and we were doing this the other night when I said, "Jack, show Daddy what you do when you want my attention when I'm reading." 

First of all, yes, we call each other "mommy" and "daddy" to the cats and that's so silly but we do it. I don't know why. We just do. 

So, Jack sits there for a minute, thinking about things, I would assume, and then he carefully reaches out his paw and taps me on the mouth a few times to illustrate what it is he does when he wants my attention. 

We were both rather boggled. I mean, he was already getting a lot of attention from us and it seriously appeared as if he was just doing what I'd asked him to do.

I have a theory that cats actually understand spoken language as well as any human but of course they do not want us to know that. I also think they can talk and I have actually heard a cat talk and I don't mean I mistook a meow for anything else. 

No. There were words. 

And every now and then a cat will let slip that they understand you and once in a very, very long while one will speak. But of course they know that any human who reports these things is going to be laughed at or disbelieved or accused of drunkenness or perhaps mental illness so they blow our minds, pretend it didn't happen, and laugh at us behind our backs. 

Oh my goodness! It is pouring rain here right now and a huge crack of thunder just announced that we are not done with the aftereffects of Alberto yet. I can't believe how tired this weather makes me. After Maggie left, it was all I could do to tidy up and eat my lunch before I had to lay down and take a little nap. Maggie certainly hadn't worn me out. She was a sweet girl and not very demanding and she wasn't here for very long. But I could hardly keep my eyes open.

But I'm not tired of the rain yet. It soothes and comforts me. It reassures me in ways I can't describe. It restores my soul, even as it restores the green earth and the blue rivers. 

Here's a picture of a few of the chicks, out in the world in between showers. 

It may well be Apricot (the bird on the right) who is the rooster. We shall see. 

And by the way- where is Melania Trump? 

I have three theories. They are as follows:

1. She's left the Donald and has moved into a new apartment but they're just not telling anyone.

2. Whatever medical issue she had was far more serious than they are letting on. 

3. She had plastic surgery and is waiting for the bruises to heal. 

What do you think? Am I petty for even wondering? 

I have no idea but I do know that I have a darling granddaughter and she makes me laugh. Especially when she's doing something she knows I wouldn't approve of so she points a pudgy little finger at me and says, "You leave now." 

That girl. She's got a mind of her own and I am in awe of it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe

Another Rachel photo.
Whoa!

Stormy Weather

I've been as lazy today as I can recall being. My entire productive output besides the usual laundry and stuff was cleaning out the poopy hay in the chick night roost and in the big chicken's nests. That took about fifteen minutes including hauling it out to the garden and spreading it around for mulch.

I started sewing on a dress for Magnolia which I'd cut out the other day but something's wrong with the tension on my old Singer and I can't fix it for love nor money. I got out the amazing little instruction booklet which came with the machine but as usual when I try to figure out tension, I just give up. I have no idea how it could have gotten so out of whack unless a little person fooled around with my Featherweight last time it was out which is entirely possible. I did a full lube and oiling of the machine this morning before I started sewing and I guess I could have screwed something up there but I doubt it. Oh, who knows? But there are videos on Youtube, of course, and I'll work on it sometime but that time was not today.
Instead, I took a nap.

Subtropical Storm Alberto has turned out to be not much. We got a tiny bit of wind and some good rain but nothing scary at all. I'd say something positive about the electricity but I don't want to jinx things. I've been in good contact with the Dog Island pirates and they've been having a great time. The pictures they've sent have been tremendous.

Rachel sent me this one. 

Click on it to see the full amazingness. 

This morning Anna reported that the herons and pelicans and osprey were feeding like crazy and the mullet were jumping in large numbers. Yesterday they said the bay was filled with rays. I have to say I'm somewhat jealous. To be out there during a storm that isn't particularly dangerous but one that calls forth the storm behavior of the creatures, both of sea and of air and which draws the water up and then sends it out, which chops it into waves and then smooths it out again, which fills the sky with bruise and with silver- well. That's got to be something.
They're not going to be able to come home tomorrow which was their plan, because the boat captain doesn't want to risk the crossing until the next day.
I do not think they are too disappointed.
Or at all.
I just hope they have enough tequila.

Seems to me that Mick's been acting a bit stronger today and the chickens of the young flock have spent a lot of time scratching in the little strip of underbrush and trees between the hen house and the railroad track. They sure are growing fast right now.

Mr. Moon's been working on his bathroom all day long. He's got the floor tiled and is working on the shower floor. He so sweetly stopped work when I laid down for a nap although I told him not to. I would not trade that man for anything on this earth. We've spent a lot of alone time this weekend and it's been nice. We still make each other laugh and we're still pretty sweet on each other and I can't imagine anything better.

Ms. Magnolia's coming over tomorrow morning while her mommy gets a root canal.
Poor Lily!
But it's good that she's getting this taken care of and I'll be glad to see my granddaughter. She needs some MerMer and chicken time. Maybe we'll stroll up to the post office and then pick some green beans.
We'll see.

Love...Ms. Moon

Leftovers

Something's wrong with my blog and the comments situation because I did not get notified of one comment via email on my last post and that was a bit sad for me but I just checked the actual post and see that I did get some comments and I am so grateful.
I mean- I actually DID something yesterday and had pictures of turtles and stuff. Which is far more exciting than what I usually post.
So. Thank you for the comments. Always. I try to act like it doesn't matter and I never check my stats but it is nice to know that I'm not all alone here in Lloyd. Just me and my chickens and my cats and my husband and my grandchildren and my children and my books and garden and Rolling Stones videos.
Poor me.

We've had a very low-key but very cozy day here. Alberto, the either sub-tropical or tropical storm depending on what you read and I have no idea what the difference is, is making its way up the Gulf.

I hear that Cozumel is back to being sunny and beautiful while we're getting rain and a little wind now and then. Nothing much although I will say that when I woke up and went outside this morning I could feel that a-storm-is-coming feeling that all of us who live in hurricane target areas know so well. A literal calm before the storm which has a tint of green and uneasiness to it. But I don't think it's going to end up being much besides a lot of rain. Hank and Rachel and their posse on Dog Island are sitting it out even though there's been an evacuation order for all of the barrier islands in Franklin County. The order is seemingly being ignored by everyone and I imagine there will be a hell of a good party at Harry A's tonight on St. George Island which is just a bit west of Dog Island. St. George does have a bridge and a lot of residents and vacationers, and Harry A's is the venerable and beloved bar where everyone does indeed know your name. And if they don't, they will in about five minutes. If you haven't fallen off a bar stool at Harry A's, you aren't really a member of the community.
(And, in truth, I never have and it's not a goal of mine to do so but never say never.)

So Mr. Moon and I sat on the couch this afternoon and watched a movie and ate popcorn which we NEVER do. Dang. This is the weekend for doing things we never do. First hot dogs, now this. The movie was While We're Young and frankly, I was highly unimpressed. There were a few good moments but I liked the popcorn better than the movie. Still, it was fun just sitting on the couch and cuddling up to the man.

The rain's coming down pretty good now. I don't see any of the chickens but a little while ago Mr. Moon and I went out to do a garden viewing (the tomatoes are getting eaten into lace) and we saw that the youngsters have made it as far as the inside of the fence and we about burst our buttons with pride. As they ran the length of the fence I said, "We have a herd of chickens!" and it appears that we do. Mick is hanging in there and doing his best. He is still eating heartily which heartens me.

I have a refrigerator full of leftovers and even though I consider myself to be a master at combining things to make soup of, I just cannot figure out how to meld what I have at the moment into something edible. I could go with the venison roast with potatoes and carrots and green beans and the black beans and rice but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how rock shrimp, cheese grits, fried tomatoes, hot dogs and baked beans could possibly marry with them.
Wouldn't be prudent, as the elder Bush always said. Throw in the carrot and raisin salad (which was delicious, by the way) and it would just be a damn mess. All of the sherry in the world would not make this taste good.
I think I'm just going to heat everything up, set it all out on the counter, put every condiment I can think of on the table and hand my husband a plate.
"Have at it!" I will say.
And whatever's left is going to the chickens because my refrigerator is so full of bags of carrots and beets and green beans and peas that I can't find anything.

What a terrible problem to have, right?

Also, my tick bite itches like holy hell and I have a chigger bite which is itching too and my house is infested with what we call sugar ants and yes, they do bite, goddamn it.
Storms, be they subtropical, tropical, or full blown hurricanes, heat, humidity, Florida Man, insects, Florida Woman, (P)rick Scott, alligators, salt-water crocodiles, bears, wild cats, snakes, and mildew- as I asked yesterday- WHY do I live in Florida?

Because I'm too lazy to move, I suppose.

I'm just livin' the dream, y'all. Living the dream. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It's Hard To Beat A Two-Turtle Day

The lamp is home! And I had such a good time getting it.
It's been a good day in general. When I was having my coffee on the porch, I heard the unmistakable sound of a teenaged rooster trying out his crowing. The littles were all still in their shelter so I'm not sure which one it was but I'm thinking it might be Big Daddy because as soon as I let them out he ran straight for the door without stopping to eat a morsel while the rest of the young chicks arranged themselves around the feeder the way they do in the morning as if they had never eaten in their lives.

Mr. Moon said that he would go with me to Monticello today to buy the lamp and I was grateful because not only would that be fun but I also wanted to buy a little chest of drawers I saw yesterday. It wasn't a superior piece of furniture but would be nice in a bathroom or on a porch. So we drove back to the little town and went into Wag the Dog and wouldn't you know the dresser was already sold but the lamp was still there and I claimed it and it was mine.

We went to a real antique store and wandered around but nothing caught our eye that was priced anywhere near where we would have considered buying. What's up with these places? I looked at a nice smallish Jadeite bowl that they were asking forty-nine dollars for which is ridiculous and I bet you any amount of money that thing will still be there collecting dust a year from now. But it was pleasant to wander around and the upstairs part of the shop is the best. It feels...haunted. If not by the rooms themselves, than by the objects resting there.

It really is a beautiful space, though. Here's the room facing the street where light pours in through the windows.

Whenever I see those massive wooden headboards I always think that if I had one I would constantly be afraid that it would fall on me either in my sleep or during love making and kill me dead. 

Although dying during either of those activities would not be so bad, I suppose. 

We ate our lunch at a different place than the one Jessie and I ate at yesterday. This one is more down home and diner-like with no pretensions except for in the name which includes the word "eatery." When did "eatery" become a word? When did "conversate" become a word? When did "read" become a noun? I especially hate that one. 

"It was a really good read."

What's next? "We had a really enjoyable feed"?

That's probably already in use. 

Okay. Sorry for the senseless segue. 

But the place we ate had fried EVERYTHING! Almost. Fried dill pickles and fried green tomatoes for sure. Those were on the list of the premium side orders which you could get with your sandwich for an extra dollar. Mr. Moon and I both got chicken salad salads (yes, I had chicken salad yesterday and no, I can't get enough chicken salad) which was a big glob of chicken salad on some nice greens, period, the end. With dressing. 

It wasn't bad. It was, as August would have said, "Pretty good," although on our way home I declared that next time, fuck it, I'm just getting something fried. 

We stopped at the Winn Dixie on the way home because I needed to pick up a few things. I'd asked Mr. Moon what he wanted for supper and he said "hot dogs" which is hysterical because we NEVER eat hotdogs. Well, I think he might buy one at Lowe's now and then but, seriously?

He also wanted baked beans and potato chips. I can't even remember the last time there were potato chips in this house. 

But, that's what we're having. I got the best hot dogs the Winn Dixie had to offer as well as the best hot dog buns (Pepperidge Farm). I got canned chili sauce for hot dogs, I got Chow-Chow. I got a can of baked beans. And since we both ate about half a bushel of salad greens for lunch, I don't feel a lot of guilt about not making a real salad but I am going to make a carrot and raisin salad and I guess that's real. 

Enough. 

Real enough. 

On the trip home we saw this.

Prettiest little Florida box turtle you ever saw, seemingly paralyzed on the center line. We turned around and pulled off the road and took it to the side it had been heading before he (she?) became confused or scared or whatever.

That's its little nose peaking out. 

And THEN, on another road, we saw another Florida box turtle crossing the road. 

Pull over. Check it out. 

This little guy was not paralyzed and by the time we got to it, he'd made his way safely into the weeds. He'd gotten rained on a little bit so his shell was nice and shiny and lovely. 

I guess it's mating season or something. This may sound ridiculous, but it was thrilling for me to have two such encounters in one day. 

And then, to top it all off, I got a row of black-eyed peas and a row of okra planted. I'm so glad. What a relief! Since we're about to get a whole bunch of rain, it was good timing. 

There was a lot more I could have done in the garden but I'm not feeling that great so I stopped at those two rows and came in and took a shower. While I was taking that shower I discovered a tick embedded in one of my bosoms. Really? In my own personal breast? Indeed it was. 

I hate those motherfuckers. 

But it's been a full day and the news about Ireland giving women the ability to control their own bodies and lives is thrilling. I have been reading the "In Her Shoes" posts on Facebook which Jo has shared which have horrified, angered, and touched me so deeply. I am so proud of Ireland for standing up to the powerful Catholic church which has held that country in such tight chains for so long. First, same-sex marriage and now this! 

Oh! Here's what the magnolias look like today.

If you could only smell my hallway...

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm Just A Little Bit Sick Which Is A Huge Relief

So yesterday I was whining about how wimpy I've been on my walks this week, how the heat and humidity have just slayed me and how I had NO ENERGY and blah, blah, blah and suddenly, I realized after I posted that I am sick.
Yep. I'm so rarely sick with anything that it takes me awhile to realize it when I am but Jessie and her boys have all had a cold this the past week or so and now I have it too. Sore throat, congestion, cough, aches and pains and no energy? Hmmmm....
It must not be too bad- I mean, I did walk over twenty miles this week but yeah, it wasn't easy and there's a reason.
Well, besides being old and it being very hot and humid. But it would appear that I am not dying which is what my anxious old woman brain always tells me is happening if I don't feel well.
"Yep. It's finally happening. You are dying. Get your affairs in order. This is a terminal illness. Code red. Code red. Code red."

I did let the chicks out this morning and I'm not sure they all took advantage but some of them surely have. Right now I'm waiting to see if they can figure out how to get back in. Life is not easy for young chickens and there is a lot to learn. I saw Vera (or was it Viv?) scratching in the same space as Darla who reached over and beaked her head and thus, the pecking order is already being established.

Anyway, Jessie and the boys came out and we had a Monticello outing. We went to our favorite place to eat which is called The Rev cafe and Jessie got a blackened redfish sandwich and I got a chicken salad sandwich and it was delicious. Here's the view from the Rev.

Jefferson County Courthouse. Stately, isn't it? The clock tower bells chime on the hour and traffic goes politely around the round-about and stops for pedestrians. Monticello is pretty darn cool in some ways. 

After lunch of course we had to go to Wag The Dog, a thrift store which supports the humane society where we always find treasures for cheap. August got to play with toys and so did Levon and the cranky old lady who doesn't like kids to play with the toys wasn't there so all was well. Here's August wearing roller skates and holding a telescoping Mickey Mouse light saber. We think it was a light saber. 

His little legs were just going everywhere and he was laughing and laughing. 

I got some nice old dishtowels, the kind that are made of good heavy cotton, a large vegetable ristra, 

and a book. I saw a lamp that I liked but Jessie and a friend I texted the picture to both said, "NO!"

The shade was really nice and dang it, I think I might go back tomorrow and buy it. Fifteen bucks. I'm the queen of funky lamps and that one is truly oldish and why not? Life is short. 

Putti are simply under appreciated these days. 

So that was fun but I was ready to come home and so we bought our cool stuff and stopped at the Farmers Market for green peanuts to boil and green tomatoes to fry. 

Here's what Levon looked like today.

Cute as always. 

We're supposed to be getting a sub-tropical storm this weekend. Sub-tropical. Hmmmm...

What that means, supposedly, is that we're going to get a bunch of rain. Right now the system is forming over Cozumel and is going to head up through the gulf straight towards us as these things always do. Hank and his cohorts are on Dog Island for the weekend and for their sake, I hope it's not too bad. Thank GOD that Rachel is going because she planned and organized the food and supplies and so I know they won't die of hunger or thirst if they get stranded out there because the boat which transports them can't risk the seas. 

Let us wish them luck. Going to the Dog is always an adventure.

In sad news, Mick does not seem to be doing well today. He has been eating and moving around but his walking seems more difficult and he's spent a lot of time laying down which is not usual for him. Or for any chickens, really. Unless they're laying down and taking a nap in the sand or dirt, they are on two legs, walking about and scratching or searching for new places to scratch. 

I'll let you know how that goes. 

Not to be heartless but I wonder if my neighbor would give me Dearie The Rooster back? Although I have no idea how I'd catch him. 

And please note those magnolias in the first picture. Mr. Moon brought them home to me today and my hallway smells like lemony heaven. I'll take a picture tomorrow when they open for the daylight. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy Birthday, May!

It is well and truly May's birthday today and I spoke with her this morning before she headed off to St. Augustine. This is the birthday she is turning forty and how I, a forty-seven year old woman (in my own head) have a forty-year old child is beyond me and let's not mention that Hank is going to turn 42 in a few weeks.
But.
I told her what I'd written on her card yesterday which is that I honestly think that a woman's forties are her best decade when she is at the peak of her powers and her glory.
She said that when she woke up this morning she felt relieved. That here it was and let's see what happens now.
Amen.
I love the post I wrote about her birth three years ago and you can read that here, if you never have. I look back on the memories of the day she was born and I can't even believe that I was ever twenty-three years old, giving birth to my second child and already the mother of an almost two-year old. But I was and May was my newborn baby and I was starry-eyed in wonder and bliss and as happy as a human woman can be, having just given birth and thus, having assisted in the process of a person coming into being, from that world to this.
That universe to this?
Whatever. I had been the portal and was now infinitely rewarded with this precious baby, this unique and wonderful life, my May baby.

Of course I've been thinking about all of that all day long and it has been a long day for me. My walks are just getting almost too hard to continue with at this pace and length in this heat and humidity. Instead of feeling as if I am getting stronger, I feel as if I am doing the opposite, being wimpier every day as I climb the hills and wish for nothing more than it all to be over with. And it is hard to get to sleep at night. My left leg bothers me from thigh to foot and it takes a long, long time to get comfortable enough to fall asleep and if I do fall asleep, I constantly wake up, in another sort of discomfort. After my walk I have little energy left for the rest of the day and that's not good. And forget naps- again, I can't get comfortable.
And if that doesn't suck, I don't know what does.
So why am I doing this?
Oh hell. I have no idea. Because I'm a stubborn old woman, I suppose. And because I can.

Anyway, so I took my walk and I've tried my best to be somewhat productive for the rest of the day. I cut out a dress for Ms. Maggie June and I tried out the new iron I bought myself at Costco yesterday as a present (haha! just kidding, no, not really kidding) and it had parts made of the sort of crap plastic that you might see toys made out of at the Dollar Store and it appeared not to be designed for human use so fuck it- I'll be taking that back. I also mopped the kitchen and microscopic laundry space and teeny tiny bathroom. It's been so long since I've done that that Maurice was a bit worried and disconcerted.

What the hell, human?

There have been no more chicken incidents although I have decided to let the littles out of the coop tomorrow. I think they are big enough and ready. They literally hurl themselves against the door which I've been keeping closed which allows access from the hen house and outside to the coop. How do they know that this is how to get out? I do not know but when they aren't hurling, they are huddling against it. They want to join the big world of scratching and hunting and exploring and dirt-napping and sunbathing and it's just time. 

I dreamed last night that I was taking care of a bunch of baby chicks and I had a habitat to put them in but I kept forgetting that they weren't fish and so I would fill the habitat with water and then panic, remembering that they were chicks and draining the water but then cats kept coming in to get them and I had to wrestle babies away from cat paws and I couldn't find anything to put over the shelter to keep the cats out and, well, I guess I'm having a little anxiety about their safety.
What a strange and wonderful thing evolution is which gives us all the innate sense that we need to protect babies, whether our own or others in the human sense and also chicks and kittens and puppies and wild birds and, and, and...
Not to mention how some of us feel about seedlings.
And can I just say that interspecies mothering is one of my very favorite things about life on earth?

And then there's this.

We just can't help it. 

Love is love. 

OH! It's Bob Dylan's birthday today too. He is seventy-seven. Let's wish him all the best and like all of my favorite musicians who are still alive, he's still touring, still playing, still being no one but himself, doing what he was put here on earth to do. 

Okay. I'm tired. I swear to you that I am more exhausted right now than I was on the night of May's birth. 

Age'll do that to you. Also, a lack of hormones. 

Jeez. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Whole Big Crazy Soup Of It All

I swear to god, I need to learn my lesson. It seems to me that every time I write a whole bunch about my chickens, something happens.
And last night was a prime example and I am so sad and so confused and feel so guilty.
As sometimes happened, we didn't get around to closing up the chickens until later in the evening. Like, okay, it was after nine. And Mr. Moon went out to do it and he didn't come in for a long time and when he did I only had to look at him to know something was wrong.
And it was.
He had found a small dead possum near the clothesline which is about fifty or so feet from the hen house and Camellia was gone.
Now. How these two are connected, I do not know but that's what he found.
And something traumatic must have happened because Mick and the girls did not want to go outside today and I just feel so, so terrible.
My dear Camellia. The chicken that Kathleen left me. The hen that came on the porch every time she saw me, wanting a little handful of cat food.
Hell, some of her poop is still on the porch.
But she is gone.
I found a few feathers leading to the woods and I'm sure something dragged her off but how that has anything to do with a dead possum I can't begin to tell you. And no, I don't think it was that dog because the dog kills but he doesn't eat and in this case, there was no body.

So. I started my day with woe and had had strange and upsetting dreams and I no more wanted to walk than I wanted to go dig a ditch but I knew I needed to get out and walk off a bit of my sadness and anxiety. So I did. I only did three miles but they were fast miles. And I feel as if I'd gone seven miles and I am seriously not sure how long I'm going to be able to keep this up as the heat increases.
But. That's a matter for another day.

Part of the reason I was rushing was because we were all meeting up where May works because tomorrow is her birthday and she and her beloved Michael are leaving to go to St. Augustine tomorrow to stay a few days, to relax and have fun and NOT WORK. But we all wanted to see her and we had a sweet lunch even though, to add to my perpetual guilt, my darling girl had to work while we were celebrating her.
Ah-lah. You make do as you can.
And in between customers there were presents and cards.

And of course there were babies and hugs and kisses. 

That little girl got mad at me because I wouldn't let her have the gum she snitched out of my purse and she tapped me on the forehead and said, "YOU GO YOUR HOME!" 

Which I thought was the funniest thing ever. 

Of course, by the time she left, she was begging to ride in my car and come to my home herself so there you go. She's a spitfire, that one. And oh, how I love her! 

Here we all are and I cried when I gave May her last hug goodbye because I love this family so much. We are so different in so many ways and yet, we just purely love each other. I know it sounds absurd but there just don't seem to be any small niggling grudges or resentments. We joke about our strengths and our weaknesses, we tell stories on ourselves and each other and we laugh and we laugh. We are the luckiest people I know in so many ways because we have each other. 

Hank and Rachel gave me a card for my blogoversary. 

And what Shel Silverstein said there is probably exactly what I'm trying to say. We tell each other all the time how fabulous we all are and we know it to be the truth. 

Am I bragging? 

Oh, I don't know. Maybe. 

But maybe I'm just a very proud mama and maybe what my family considers to be fabulousness is not what every family would consider to be fabulousness but we know what we know. We believe what we believe. 

See? Fabulousness. You just can't deny it. 

Rest in peace, dear Camellia. You were loved immensely and we appreciate all of the beautiful pale green eggs you gave us which delighted us in their form and fed us with their delicious protein. I wish I had done better by you. I really do. You, too, were fabulous in every way. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I just saw Mick have his way with Darla. I think he's going to live.