What A Day!

Oh my goodness. I think there were twenty of us for lunch today. Here's what it looked like after the egg hunt but before the food came out. Well, except for a few condiments. But what a beautiful day! It was truly fabulous. Blue, blue skies, fresh green leaves, no bugs, and a temperature so perfect that none of us could quit talking about it.
Lots of perfection going on here lately. 

As you can see all of the little rock stars were having fun except Maggie who was having a little rock star melt-down. The egg hunt was about to begin.
She got over whatever it was that was upsetting her and many eggs were found. She recovered nicely.

Mark took this picture. 

It was so good to have Mark here this year. I can't remember when Mark started coming over for Easter but now it's my favorite part of any holiday season. Even better than dying eggs. He's one of mine and he calls me Mom and that is one of the joys of my life.  

Rachel took that one. And here's another one that Mark took:

Mark and Rachel. We are so rich in beloveds around here. 

And guess who else came? 

Chuck-My-Brother and Kian and Riley! Riley is so grown up. She, like her brother, has a lot of good memories of being here when she was just a young thing. I told her to make herself at home and to go snoop around if she wanted to, which she did. She told me that it's just the same. She is absolutely delightful and I have invited her and her brother to come back anytime they want. I think they'll take me up on it, too. And get this- Kian's favorite teacher lives catty-cornered across the street from me and lived in this house when he was a boy. 

More pictures. 

Gibson and August. Photo by Rachel.

Jessie's deviled eggs. Mark took this one and the next one too.

The Challah. I swear, that is the most incredible, fool-proof recipe for bread ever. I did get up early enough to make it. 

Of course. 

And guess who got home just in time for lunch? 

As happy as I was to see him, I think Little Boppy may have been even happier. 

There we are, or at least most of us. 

Everyone pitched in and helped with the tables and chairs. Rachel and Hank had a potluck yesterday and brought over the bountiful leftovers from that. Cole slaw and potato salad and black bean and corn salsa and a bunch of other stuff. Pasta salad with roasted squash that Rachel made. Cupcakes, cookies, and a ten-layer red velvet cake. 

Lily brought the famous pineapple cheese casserole and a salad with every good healthy thing in the world in it including quinoa and walnuts. Jessie brought the deviled eggs and also fixin's for some sort of delicious looking drink which involved Prosecco and orange juice and vodka.

The angel biscuits were...angelic. They rose right up to heaven and floated off the baking sheets directly onto our plates. I can't believe I didn't get a picture of them. 

The copper pennies got sort of a mixed review. They were interesting and Vergil said that they should go into the regular rotation of holiday foods but I think mostly we found them so-so. But my gosh, they sure were pretty. The greens were decent. 

And Lord, I have so much cheese left.
And hard-boiled eggs.

And the ham? Well, I'm going to tell you the truth- I do not think that spiral cut hams are nearly as good as non-spiral cut hams. They just get more dried out no matter how carefully you wrap them in aluminum foil when you heat them up. Next year, I'm going to get a regular old-fashioned ham. When you only get ham once a year, you want it to be good. And honestly- how hard is it to slice a ham? 

So that's it. I don't really think I could imagine a better Easter except for the fact that May and Michael could not come due to being sick with some sort of horrible-sounding cold or flu. May called me yesterday from Publix where she was getting what they needed for a siege of sickness and I could tell from her voice that she did not feel good. 

Not at all. 

In fact, she cried a little because she was going to miss the gathering and because she was in Publix which was packed with people and she felt like hell and all she wanted was to be home and in bed. 

We all know that feeling. And we missed them like crazy. 

Easter is funny for me. Not funny ha-ha, but funny interesting. Despite its incredibly Christian connotations in our culture, it is so easy to just disregard the horror of the image of a man dying on a cross and then being stashed in a tomb and becoming alive again which is, as far as I'm concerned, the Zombie origin story, and just go straight to the celebration of the full rebirth of living things after winter. I don't need some weird myth about a god sending his only begotten son to live as a man among humans and then being tortured and killed, all in order for us to enjoy something called "eternal life" to appreciate the joy of new green leaves and flowers, a bounty of eggs, and the bright, lovely faces of children as they hunt for those eggs, dyed in jewel colors. 

These are things I can whole-heartedly celebrate. 

And today we did. 

Ham sandwiches for supper anyone? 

Or perhaps egg salad. 

Whatever. It doesn't matter. We're alive, we're here, and if there is anything on earth more worth celebrating than the miracle of birth and rebirth, I don't know what it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A LOT Of Pictures

When your carrot needs to pee. 

Well, it has been a day. I didn't really get rolling very early because hey! I had all day! Right? No plans whatsoever other than getting things ready for tomorrow. The food prep for sure and maybe some clearing and cleaning in the kitchen, sweep the porches. That kind of thing. The king and queen aren't coming over. My kids are. And with five grandchildren, the house is going to look like five drunken rock stars decided to trash a hotel room about five minutes after they get here. 

So...I decided to go out and pick up some of the many, many branches which fell yesterday. Big branches, little branches, medium sized branches. And then I decided while doing that that I should get rid of some of the crocosmia choking the hydrangea and also, perhaps, trim up a few more palms. These things were done. And more branches were picked up and hauled to the burn pile. 

Bamboo was kicked. 

The Rubber Maid cart was employed over and over again. Before it was all over, the burn pile had grown considerably and yet, there were still many branches I had not picked up. But that was enough of that. 

On to the hen house where I needed to clean out the nest boxes. I was delighted to see Maurice peeking in to make sure I was doing it right. 

She's such a curious familiar. She follows me around the yard and watches what I do with the stealth of a Ninja. 

By the time I'd worn myself out in the yard and had lunch it was after three. 

Ooh boy. 

I picked carrots. 

That's just a few of them. Aren't they pretty?

I hosed off the topsoil and then brought them into the kitchen where I scrubbed them fiercely in lieu of peeling them and cut them up and cooked them. Then I made the magical tomato soup elixir and chopped up an onion and a green pepper. Here's what it looked like when it was all mixed up together. 

This may taste like hell but it sure is pretty. They're marinating in the refrigerator right now. 

Then on to the greens! I went back out to the garden and picked a huge bag of mustards, collards, and kale. The mustards have bolted and are in full glorious yellow-bloom. 

Time to pull them. 

I brought in the greens and put them all in the sink which I filled with water. 

After a bit of a soak, I ran each leaf under running water to get all the dirt and grit off them (mustards especially are notorious for holding on to sand) and laid them out a dozen or so at a time on the cutting board to remove the biggest, toughest stems and cut the greens into bite-sized pieces and put them into the pot. 

This is, as you may imagine, rather time-consuming. 

Here's the pot of cut-up greens. 

I poured in one of those containers of vegetable broth (I'm making these vegetarian and in fact, vegan) along with a can of chopped tomatoes. I cut up another onion and added that and then soy sauce, Braggs liquid aminos, balsamic vinegar, rice wine vinegar, and apple cider vinegar. And a little bit of sugar. 

Oh! And some olive oil. 

And...two beautiful pickled red peppers and some of the liquid from a jar of these:

Because that shit is delicious. I put these okras in my martinis these days and I just can't imagine anything better. 

I've now tasted the greens and they are pretty all right. I turned them off and I'll let them sit overnight in the refrigerator and do the final seasonings tomorrow. 

AND THEN! Time to make the angel biscuit dough. I decided to make up a batch of that because it, too, can sit in the refrigerator and wait until needed. I may or may not make a few loaves of Challah tomorrow. That will depend on what time I get up. 

Anyway, because I've taken pictures of everything today, here's the angel biscuit dough. 

Oh, y'all. That dough. It's so yeasty and lovely that you just desperately want to flour a surface, turn it out, give it a tiny kneading and then roll it and cut it out into trays and trays of beautiful biscuits. 

If we ate nothing tomorrow but ham and angel biscuits it would be a fine Easter. 

So that's what I did today. I did not sweep a porch, I did not get the kitchen in the sort of order I want it to be in. I did get rid of a few things in the refrigerator in order to make more room and here's a picture of happy chickens pecking away at plain yogurt that had become a color that plain yogurt should not be and some hummus which was never going to get finished. 

Chickens love moldy yogurt and hummus beyond all reason. 

Very little goes to waste with chickens around. 

I think I better get to bed early tonight. I have a lot to do tomorrow before the Easter bunny gets here to hide the eggs. AND my husband is coming home tomorrow. It feels like he's been gone for months. I kinda miss that tall guy. 

A lot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Day Involving Many Perfect Perfections

It has been a most interesting day. 

Well, for me. 

When I woke up this morning it was raining gently and just starting to get windy. Soon we were getting huge gusts of wind that twisted the trees and bent them and I heard snappings and crackings and sure enough- quite a few branches fell. As always I wondered if I was risking life and limb by hanging out on the porch while all of this was going on. Were there tornadoes? My neighbor who always calls me to warn about tornadoes is out of town and the reports online seemed to be mixed on that subject. But I just stayed where I was and watched the craziness and thought about how much I dread hurricane season. 

But beside the branches and a few things flying off of tables or counters in the house where doors were open, no harm done and the rain never did amount to much. 

Still, it was a foretaste of things to come. 

Lily lost power for about three hours and shockingly, I never did. I was very grateful for that. 

After things had calmed down Jessie came out with the boys to dye Easter eggs. Before we got started though, August went to the trash depot and the post office with me. It's so funny- he totally has a ritual about this now. He sits on Gibson's old booster seat and he has a pile of books that he "reads" for the entire one and a half block journey there and back. Those books stay in the car and are always ready for this Mer and August adventure. 

See how exciting my life is? 

But I tell you what- some day I am going to look back on these trips to take the trash and I am going to miss them. 

Levon seemed thrilled to be in Lloyd. He went straight for the Glen Den where he pulled out a small child's chair, set it in the middle of the room and just sat on it. 

I have no idea what the little guy was thinking but he cracked Jessie and me up, seeing him sitting there, taking in the sights. After a few minutes of hanging out like a dude, he started pointing to the fish replicas on the wall. 

"Fish," he said. He's a good talker, that one. Look at those little feet. Can you stand it? 

After awhile he and August dumped out all of the toys in the toy basket and then the fun really began. Levon brought me two bouncy balls and when I bounced and caught both of them at the same time he laughed so hard I was afraid he was going to break a rib. He was thrilled! 

Then there were books and then there was lunch and then we set up the table on the porch for egg dying. 

Jessie and I both agreed that dying Easter eggs is just about the best holiday ritual there is. If not THE best. First of all- eggs are perfection in all ways. Perfection and magic. Their shapes, the way they feel in the hand, as if human palms were designed specifically to hold an egg. The way each egg delivers a perfect protein and which is also quite possibly the most versatile food source on the planet. The way that a hen can lay a clutch of eggs to sit on for three weeks and at the end of those three weeks, tiny bits of perfect fluff peck their way out of the eggs with their egg tooth which probably evolved with the dinosaurs, emerging already knowing how to peck and scratch for food, how to follow Mama, how to heed her calls, how to make their own chirping cheeps so that she always knows where each of her young'uns are. 

Take all of this and add color to eggs and if that's not beauty, I don't know what is. 

We filled up mugs and cups with boiling water and vinegar and food coloring and we just had the best time. 

I kept saying, "Isn't that the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen?"

Or purple. Or green. 

Sheer beautiful perfection. 

Sigh. 

Both boys ended up with dyed hands. Levon especially found this interesting. He kept holding up his little hands and looking at them in wonder. 

While all of this was going on the weather went from being beautiful and sunny to looking like it was about to storm again, over and over. And the temperature began to fall, slowly but inexorably and as I write this now, it is once again cool and feels so fresh and occasionally the wind stirs up the leaves again and makes the wind chimes tinkle out a few pretty notes. 

I went to Publix after Jessie and the boys went home and bought all of the rest of the stuff I need for Sunday. Tomorrow I plan on doing some tidying up and making the greens and the marinated carrots which is what I am choosing to call those things because "copper pennies" sounds foul as pertains to food. I looked in one of my old church cookbooks and lo and behold, there are three recipes for these in it. 

I'll go through my other homegrown church lady cookbooks tomorrow just for the thrill of it. The recipes all seem very similar. I will probably not be using the entire cup of sugar that these old cookbooks call for but I may well use the canned tomato soup just because that's a constant in all of the versions. And here's one of my guilty secrets- I make a very, very fake beef (or venison) stroganoff with a can of tomato soup in it and I fucking love it. 

Let's face it. Campbell's tomato soup is just damn good. It ain't gourmet but it makes me happy. 

Occasionally. And Publix had Campbell's soup on BOGO which of course I took as a sign. 

A Holy Easter Sign of what the Christian god would want me to use. 

Am I right? 

Of course. 

And it being Friday, I have clean sheets on the bed. August helped me make it up. 

"I am very strong," he said as he tugged the fitted sheet at the corner. He seems to be a little bit obsessed with strength these days. When I was tugging the trash bag out of the kitchen trash can he said, "Mer, you are strong." 

And then he proceeded to tell me that I am old. 

"You can be old and still be strong," I told him. 

And that's true. Or at least sort of true. 

I'll leave it at that. 

Happy Day They Crucified Our Lord. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Speaking Of Food...

Today was the day to go to Costco and buy the ham for the Jesus-Is-Risen-Like-A-Loaf-Of-Challah Celebration. Jessie needed to go too and so we met there. August ran to me when he saw me, his little legs churning like a sprinter's. "Mer!" he shouted and I was so glad to see him.
His brother, who had just woken up, looked at me like, "Oh god. Really? Her again?"
He cheered up though quite a bit before too long. As you can see in that picture.
Costco is a crazy place. Where else can you buy containers of food that look fairly normal-sized until you get them home where you realize you've bought literally pounds of food when all you need is ounces?
I say this as a woman who has enough of a cheese assortment package and crackers to make canapes for everyone attending a reception after one of those mass weddings that the Reverend Sun Myung Moon used to perform. (No relation to the Lloyd branch of Moons. Let me make that clear.)

Sometimes I'll look at what's left of my formerly giant block of cave-aged cheddar from Costco and think, "Whoa! I better get some more! We're almost out!" only to realize that in all actuality, I still have more than you'd get in a regular cheese purchase at a regular grocery store and then I calm down and wait a few more months. In this case with the cheese assortment package, there are five different wedges of various cheeses, all of which look delicious, and each of which would have been enough on their own for the appetizer portion of our meal.

Let's face it though- these feast-based holidays are nothing more than excuses to buy and consume foods we've been wanting to buy and consume all year but had the good sense not to. 

But you never know how many people are going to show up for one of these ham-related shindigs. Or any food-related shindigs. Just our family alone is a slightly daunting number. And of course we define the word "family" loosely. But fiercely and sincerely. 

Besides the ham and the cheese I got ONE package of a sliced smoked salmon sampler. I asked Jessie if I should get two. "If you want leftovers," she said. 

How did I raise such a sensible child? 

I'll cook the greens on Saturday, let them sit overnight and then warm them up on Sunday. They'll be better after a day's merging of the flavors as most things are. 

So. Okay. Speaking of food. This morning as I was perusing the Tallahassee Democrat, I came upon this article for a dish called "copper pennies." it claims that this is "the best carrot side-dish ever."

What the fuck? I said to myself. As I so often do. 

I had never in my life tasted or even heard of such a thing. So then I started googling and damn if there aren't about a thousand recipes for copper pennies online, most of them claiming that these are the best things ever. EVER! And that their mama's recipe was the best one. Or their granny's recipe. 

Have YOU ever heard of them? 

Tried them? 

Made them?

I am so intrigued because they just sound so weird. But not as weird as meatballs cooked with Heinz chili sauce and Welch's grape jelly which are about the best things in the world to eat. 

Another reason I'm intrigued is that the carrots in my garden need to be pulled. Most of them have split from getting too big. So I just might make up a batch and see what all the fuss is about. 

I'll let you know if I do. 

Wait. How did I get here from Costco? 

No idea.

But after Costco Jessie and I met Lily and Lauren at the Indian buffet for lunch. And as always, it was delicious. But today was different because we were celebrating Jason even though he was not there. 

This man, this daddy, this husband

got the official notification today that he has been promoted to the position of meat manager at Publix. 

This is a huge deal. 

Not only did he get the promotion but the store he's going to be working in is one of Tallahassee's largest Publix's and the store that managers wait for years to be transferred to. He's worked there before so everyone knows him and the store manager likes him and he's got the rhythm of it already. It's fondly called the Club Pub because it's near the campus of FSU and the students shop there. It's an extremely high volume store and he's going to be working his ass off. 

But that's okay because he's been working his ass off for years and he so deserves this and we are so proud of him. 

This is going to mean so much for his family and family is what Jason is all about. Lily did good when she picked him to be her husband and the daddy of her children. I can't say enough about how proud I am of him. 

So we were all happy to hear this good news and we ate our Indian food and yes, the kids were a bit unruly but you know- kids. 

One second they're being tiny dictators, insisting on getting their way, and the next minute they're saying, "I love you, Mer," and cuddling up and offering you bites off their plates. 

They are entirely unique and sentient beings who have only been on the planet for a year or three but who came equipped with every human emotion available and every human desire intact and every human ability to think and reason well in place. They may not have the experience or maturity or self-control to harness all of this exquisite humanity but that too is part of their charm. 

Oh god. I love them. And oh god. I am so glad that I am a grandmother now and not a mother because I just do not have the energy required to be the firm voice of reason and authority. 

And guess what? 

That's why grandparents spoil their grandchildren- because they know it's easier, FAR EASIER to just give in than it is to upset the little people and we are worn out from upsetting our children, the parents of these grandchildren in an effort to raise them properly. 

And yet, the sweetness is undeniable. I have a little wound on my thumb knuckle from grating hard Parmesan cheese on a very sharp grater and August wanted to kiss it at least three times today. 

Well, that's about it for today's ruminations and ponderings. 

We're supposed to get some fairly serious storms with possible high winds and perhaps even tornadoes in the morning which is hard to believe right now. There is not one breath of a breeze. Not one leaf is moving. And then it's going to get cooler again and I am not sure that I've ever been able to keep my duck out of its summer storage this far into spring. But the celebration of eggs and rebirth should have perfect weather and we'll be able to eat outside, pondering the magical alchemy of egg yolks mashed with mustard and mayonnaise and salt and pepper, the deep funk of salty, vinegary greens from the garden and the sweet community of what we call family as children race around the yard, high on chocolate Easter bunnies, jelly beans, and the certain sure knowledge they are loved, no matter what. 

We shall see, won't we? 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Little Tiny Adventure

Yes, yes. I went away and now I am back.
Short trip, eh?
I meant to post on my phone last night but that turned out to be complicated and I just wasn't doing complicated so I didn't. It would appear that the world has not come to an end although there is that thing about the pig brains being brought back to "partial life" after they were dead for four hours and that may be a sign of impending doom.

Who knows? 

Not me. 

Anyway, I always go over to Apalach for a day or two when Mr. Moon and his sister are having their fishing week and it appeared yesterday morning that it would be a good time to make that little journey. The fishing had been nonexistent due to weather as I had said before, and they had made plans to drive over to Biloxi to do a little gambling on Thursday and then of course this coming weekend is the ritual eating of the ham celebration which I need to prepare for so there you go. 

I packed up and hit the road and had a lovely trip to the coast. Everything is so green and the giant magnolias are blooming and it was cool and I had a wonderful time just being leisurely and pissing off the drivers behind me by only going the speed limit. 

I stopped and ate my lunch at a picnic table in the shade after ordering here. 

I've passed that little food truck a million times and never stopped but yesterday I did. I got what they call a "shrimp burger" which is about six fried shrimp on a hamburger bun with lettuce and tomato and tartar sauce and pickles. I added hot sauce. 

It was perfect. 

And the lady in the counter window called me "Sweetie" which did not offend me in the least but in fact, made me smile. 

Good iced tea, too. 

I drove over rivers and through woods and past little villages and thought about how beautiful this area is. It's got its faults and that I will freely admit. You do sometimes catch sight of a confederate flag and billboards like the one I saw that said nothing more than WE LOVE YOU JESUS! but there are also probably more mixed marriages in that area than anyone could believe. This is may be due to the fact that everyone of similar skin tone is related to everyone else of that skin tone and so intermingling the genes (and skin tones) is a good idea. 

Well, at least that's my theory. 

I got to Apalachicola and Mr. Moon and his sister were waiting for me to go look at a house for sale. I really do NOT want to go into the whole thing about whether or not we're going to build a house on our property so let's just say that we're weighing options. Buying an existing house is one of those options and there is something to be said for acquiring a house that we could start using immediately. The siblings had already looked at it from all angles and peeked in the windows but they politely waited for me to meet with a realtor to go inside it. 

It was cute. Built all of wood inside, some of which had been blasted down to its original wooden woodiness. Which I like fine. Smells good. But the lot was only big enough for the house and a bird feeder and a few plants and some bricks and that wasn't great. And most of the rooms were tiny, as rooms built back in those days had a tendency to be. And there was a second story but the steps up to it reminded me of the steps on the pyramids in the Yucatan except a lot narrower and the kitchen was neither practical, roomy, or charming enough for one to forgive the impracticality or lack of space. 

So, nope. 

The realtor was an interesting guy. Liked to talk. A lot. In fact, he told us stories about people that I felt a little bit uncomfortable hearing. Like...not my business. Nothing vile or slanderous but still, a little over the top for me. 

So that was that and eventually we all went out to supper and because the weather was so beautiful we were able to eat outside. 

That bird snatched a piece of bread off a table after the people who'd been eating there left and carried it over to that post to eat before the server came back and chased him off. We were amused. And the food was delicious but I ate way too much and thank god we only had to walk about forty feet back to where we were staying which is a beautiful place with a kitchen bigger than the one in the house we'd looked at. I could actually live quite happily in this suite. 

The building was originally a warehouse right on the river from when Apalachicola was a major shipping port for cotton and other goods. This was before roads or railroads were built in this part of the country and it was a booming town. It has quite the history. Now it's mostly known for its beautiful old homes, its seafood industry, and tourism. 

We were all so food-stunned when we got back from eating that we weren't capable of much more than sitting on those couches. I started reading a back-issue of the New Yorker and found an article that absolutely blew my mind. You can read it HERE.  There's an audio option too. 

It's about the discovery of the amazing record of when the massive Chicxulub meteorite hit the earth about sixty-six million years ago. I'd read brief articles about the finding recently but this article went into far more detail and I'm still boggling about it. If you feel the need to put everything into perspective right now (and who doesn't?) I suggest you read the article too. It's fascinating. Really, I can't say enough about it but perhaps I am just one of those people who never outgrew her love of dinosaurs and fossils and the mysteries of our planet. 

This morning, despite the fact that last night I had vowed never to eat again, we went to the Mexican restaurant in Eastpoint that serves breakfast and I always enjoy that. 

I wish I didn't love to eat so much. 

And then I did a little Apalachicola shopping and here's the best:

My beloved Lis's cards being sold in River Lily which I always refer to (completely without irony) as the best shop in the entire southeastern portion of the United States. 

Because it is. 

They only sell the BEST things at River Lily. And that is all I need to say about that. 

I also went to the bookstore which I love so much. I was so glad to hear that they did not get one drop of water in that beautiful old building during Hurricane Michael. A lot of places in Apalachicola had a great deal of damage from that storm. Not like Mexico Beach or some of the inland towns like Blountstown and Marianna which were completely devastated and which have not yet begun to come back (thanks, FEMA!) but enough damage that some buildings were destroyed and some of the oldest businesses in town are no longer operating. 

But the bookstore is good. 

And then I kissed my husband and hugged my sister-in-law and we laughed at my conjugal visit and I came on home where my chickens seemed glad to see me. 

I am glad to see them too. 

I've seen Jack but I haven't seen Maurice. She always gets so pissed off when I leave. She'll show up eventually. 

I've unpacked and have a load of clothes going and I collected thirteen beautiful eggs and have the sprinklers on in the garden. I also picked what I'm going to make into a very simple brothy soup with a few dumplings for my supper to try and make up for some of my gluttonous sins. 

So. Home again. I enjoyed my time in Apalachicola and of course I loved being with Glen and Brenda but oh, how I love my funky old house and my own kitchen and routine and bed and critters. And tomorrow I plan on seeing some grandbabies and kissing them until they scream at me to stop. 

I am a home girl at heart and in soul, too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Complete And Unexpected Delight Of Cooler Weather

It has been an absolutely perfectly perfect day here in Lloyd. Weather-wise, at least. I decided to take a shortish walk on the sidewalk that goes from the corner a few hundred feet to the east of me to the county line west of me. I had to stop almost immediately though to cross the street and take a picture of a neighbor's roses. They are fabulous every year and you can actually smell them from a distance as they warm in the sun.
I don't think there's been one cloud in the sky all day long and it's been drier and cool enough to work outside without sweating which is what I've done this afternoon although I will admit that I did not do anything very strenuous. I concentrated on the front yard, especially by the fence where I have planted rooted firespike and wild phlox. The invasive bulbed plants I always thought of as wild gladiola but which are not but which I cannot remember the name of because I'm lucky I can remember my own name these days has gone completely crazy.
I've just used The Google and I think these plants may be Van Bourgondien Crocosmia Masoniorum.
I will never remember that shit nor frankly do I see any reason I might need to.
Anyway, they are everywhere and do not really bloom in my yard due to lack of sun and I pulled the ones choking out the plants I do want there along with some dewberry and some thorn vine and a few other random things. I cleaned up the grave of Elvis, my beloved rooster who died too young. And then I got out the big pruners and cut back the Canary Island date palms.
I bitch about these motherfuckers every year because they are lethal. Their fronds are made up of needles that seem to want nothing more than to pierce human skin. Here are some I trimmed and hauled to the burn pile.

I planted these evil things and I admit that I was wrong, wrong, wrong in doing so. I have no idea what I was thinking. But as I texted to Mr. Moon, these things are going away. ASAP. I don't care what we have to pay to get rid of them. They are quite literally dangerous. They could poke a kid's eye out or lance an arm. When I was a child I accidentally kicked one and had to go to an emergency room because the needle pierced my toe all the way through. 

I picked up some branches and also trimmed a few fronds off the innocent Sabal Palms I planted by my front porch. I do not regret planting these and again- hopefully they will one day be tall and proud, ever-guarding the front of this old house. Like the Ashe Magnolias though, they are slow-growers. At least in this yard where there is far more shade than sun. 

And that has mainly been my day. I've picked some carrots and kale to go into my supper which is going to be a sort of eggplant parmesan. I am quite looking forward to making it. I've already baked the eggplant. I am trying to decide when to go to over to Apalachicola to hang out with my man and sister-in-law. They have had terrible luck in picking their week to fish. It's so windy there that no one is going out on the water. Not gulf and not river. And I so wanted some grouper. At this rate I'll be lucky to get some shrimp bought on the way home from the coast. 

Can you believe the Notre Dame cathedral fire? That's insane and horrible and so sad. I visited that cathedral when I was eighteen years old and of course I can remember standing in awe, gazing at the Rose Window. I pray (in my own way) that the fire was not caused purposefully. That would just be too evil. Unfathomably evil. I cannot imagine all of the art and history that just went up in smoke. To me the cathedral does not necessarily represent a religion or even a country. It represents the spirit of human beings who set themselves to the task of creating beauty and symmetry and awe with stones and glass, sweat, blood, and dreams. An impossible task and yet- one that was achieved and has stood in majestic proof for over eight-hundred years. 

The very thought of what it took to conceive of and to build that cathedral makes me wonder if the best, most noble and glorious days of humanity are long past. 

I hope not. 

Time to go chop some vegetables. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here I Am

The Ashe magnolia I planted so long ago got knocked back and lost some branches last year when a pecan limb fell on it but enough survived for me to get this bloom. Isn't it lovely? There will be more blooms. These are the slowest growing trees I've ever seen. I planted another one in the front yard and I swear it hasn't grown six inches in a year.
But they are worth it and some day when I am dead and not even remembered, someone will appreciate their beauty.
I hope.

So. Here I am in a completely different situation from the chaos of last night. Not only have the children long since gone home but my husband is off again for his annual fishing week with his sister. They are staying in Apalachicola and I'll go down and visit them for a day or two sometime this week. And so instead of children running around being crazy and me trying to fix supper for all of us and toys and books and crayons and puzzles and games spread out everywhere, it is just me in a relatively tidy home.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
And you know what?
I am fine with that.

I had a good time with the kids. They are good kids. They are indeed my babies. I think back on the time when I took care of Owen when he was just a tiny thing and kept it up for years and then Gibson was born and I took care of him too and I wonder how I did it. But I'm glad I did. Not only did that allow Lily to work part time and bring in money to support her family while knowing that her children were being loved as well as tended, it also gave me a bond with those boys that I believe will always be there. And then of course, there is Magnolia June who reminds me so much of her mother and sometimes she also reminds me of Jessie. I always called Jessie my "project baby" because she loved to move things from one place to another, working industriously to create an order that I did not understand but appreciated. Maggie does the same. She will transfer all of the pieces of a puzzle to a little suitcase and then back again and she loves taking all of the dominoes out of their tin box and then putting them back, one by one in tidy stacks so that they will all fit. This requires thought and patience and I am impressed at the way she can do this. She moved a bunch of books off the shelves this morning and put them in orderly piles on a wooden chest. I think she was making a library of her own. And of course she has that love of her dolls which I recognize myself in. I can distinctly remember sleeping with one or another of my baby dolls or stuffed animals, making sure that my arm was completely around them and that they were covered up, warm and cozy.
Maggie did the same last night with Zippy, holding him close and pulling up the cover to his little chimp chin.
When the chaos was at its peak last night Maggie got out the baggie of rubber bands which she has always loved to play with and left them all lying on the rug in front of the sink.
"Maggie," I told her, "You need to put those rubber bands back in the bag."
"NO!" she told me. "YOU do it!" Then she snatched an apple and ran out of the kitchen.
I sighed but before I knew it, she was back and had put all of the rubber bands back into their baggie.

And she was proud she'd done it. 

That's my girl. 

She was a bit wild after bath time last night. I got on the bed with Owen and Gibson to read them Professor Wormbog In Search For The Zipperumpazoo and The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza. Because of course we had to read those. And Maggie was like a little frog, jumping all over the bed and running about. 

"She gets this way at bedtime," said Owen The Wise Elder Child. 

I was determined to get her to sleep in her own bed though and after I kissed the boys good-night Maggie and I went into Mr. Moon's and my bedroom where her bed was all ready and she did get in it and she did snuggle with Zippie and then she did get out of bed immediately. 

She needed milk. 

She needed a kiss from her Boppy. 

She needed...oh, I have no idea. 

And I was so mean!

"Magnolia, you get back in that bed!" I kept telling her and finally she faked cried for about thirty seconds, leaning on a closet door and then she got in the bed and fell asleep immediately. 

And the true miracle here is that she STAYED IN THAT BED ALL NIGHT LONG!

I couldn't believe it. 

So that was how the evening and night went and this morning I made the pancakes. I even remembered to bake a sweet potato last night to go into the pancakes. Once you've had sweet potato buttermilk pancakes it's just impossible to go back to any other kind. 

Jason came to pick them all up pretty soon after breakfast and then Mr. Moon left to drive down to the coast, trailering his boat just as a storm approached.
"I ain't scared," he said which is something he always says at times that he probably should be scared. "Don't you close your eyes for a second!" I admonished him. 

"I won't," he told me. 

And off he went. 

I tidied up the house and did some laundry and watered the porch plants and took a nap, falling asleep just as the rain began to fall. 

And so here we are, back to the beginning again. Mr. Moon made it safely to Apalach as did his sister. The rain brought cooler temperatures and I am grateful for that. I turned on the AC yesterday for the first time this year and although I give thanks for it when it's needed, I would much rather have the house open. I need to go make myself some supper and I have no idea what I want to eat. I wish I was one of those people who, when eating by themselves just have a bowl of cereal but I doubt I will ever be one. 

I don't even like cereal for breakfast. 

Maybe for a late-night snack/dessert. 

Ah-lah. Despite my nap I feel weary but I do not feel despondent. You know me. I like being alone just fine. 

Love...Ms. Moon

My Babies

We had a tea party on the front porch with mulberry pie, whipped cream, and real tea. With a great deal of sugar stirred in. Of course the entire sugar-bowl's worth of sugar would hardly be enough to sweeten one real cup of tea.

I'm afraid the day hasn't been nearly as exciting as the children had hoped. No ponies, no bounce house, no magic show.
Just old Mer's house with eggs to look for and the bamboo jungle to explore and Wii to play and puzzles to dump out (all 750 pieces) and put back in the box and baby dolls to play with and Jack the Cat to pet and a porch swing to swing on.
Right now Gibson is drawing pictures, Maggie is playing with something in the Glen Den and I do not know what Owen is up to at the moment. Last I saw him he was eating carrots he'd picked from the garden. I do know that he wants to watch The Great British Baking Show while we eat supper which charms me. Good thing he ate some carrots. We're having pizza and roasted broccoli for supper and he claims that broccoli is the devil.
Maggie and I have made up her bed right beside our bed. She seemed to be excited about that but I think there's probably about a .01% chance she'll actually sleep in it.
"Cuddle me, Mer!" she will say after she's climbed into our bed.
I could be wrong.
She's taken off her dress and is running about the house with nothing on but her underwear. This is what children do. At least the children I've known and loved. With that head of tawny curls she reminds me of a sleek little lion.

A lion who likes pie and tea and whipped cream and baby dolls and kitty cats and cuddles. Who claps her hands two times together when she is satisfied with something or making a point, a quick, crisp exclamation of approval. 

Time to get to the evening portion of our programming. 

I'll report in tomorrow. 

Love...MerMer

P.S. 

This is what Owen was up to. 

Clever lad. 

Just A Little Post

Ugh. I've already started and deleted two posts here this evening.
I just don't have it in me to get philosophical or confessional or political or anything right now. And I don't have any amazing adventures to relate. No big chicken news. No epiphanies or major break-throughs or break-downs either.
Just regular old life.
I went to Costco with Lily and Jessie and and Magnolia, Levon and August. Then we went to lunch. While we were at the restaurant the mamas took the children outside to play while we waited for food and Maggie and August brought me the flowers you see in that picture, clutched in their little fists and handed them over. Maggie said, "Here Mer. You can take these to your home."
And as you can see, I did and they sprang back to life like Jesus from the tomb when I put them in water.
I loved that she said, "Your home."
She and her brothers are coming to spend the night tomorrow night so that Lily and Jason can go out. It will be their anniversary and it is Jessie and Vergil's anniversary too. They did not plan this very well if they wanted to have child-care for anniversary celebrating provided by their mother. Maggie is so excited at the prospect of spending the night here. I've been a bit derelict in my duties as regards having kids over to spend the night. Owen did come over a few weeks ago but he got to be the only kid. And August has been here. But Gibson and Maggie haven't been here overnight for quite awhile. We shall remedy that tomorrow. I have bought pizzas and have all of the fixin's for purple cows.

At the Costco today I bought Baby Alive dolls for both Maggie and August. They were so happy. As we all know, Maggie loves babies and Lily says she'll play with this new one endlessly. I'm not sure about August but he wanted one too and so I got him one. They both kissed me and hugged me with great fervor and so that money was well spent.

Here's a picture of Maggie with her favorite baby.

Oh, how Magnolia loves that little boy and he loves her back. The joy of watching all three of these cousins together is something very special and it makes my heart happy. 

I was wearing a favorite necklace of mine today. It's silver and has many hearts on it. Thirteen, to be exact. August, aka Mr. Why, asked me why my necklace had so many hearts. 

"Why do you think?" I asked him. 

"Because you have so many people you love," he said. "Like me." 

All right. I guess my life hasn't been completely meaningless. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What A Girl Wants

I went back to White House Road for my walk today and honestly, it's a most beautiful road. The trees, the farmland, the wildflowers that grow in the ditches. I walked far enough to see the friendly cracker cows that hang out in a field. Right after I took that picture the one in the back laid his chin over the neck of the spotted one and rubbed gently. It looked like love to me.

I've been in a funk of despair the last few days. Hard to explain, even to myself, but I've just felt so worthless. So pointless. So useless. All of those -less words.
Perhaps the real problem is that I feel less than I used to in some way. My husband asked me last night what the matter was and I ended up saying, "Here I am, almost sixty-five years old and I'm a housewife and not even a very good one!"
This is quite true.
And I have always felt a bit of unworthiness at just being a housewife. Of course I've had other jobs in my life. I mean, real jobs. Where they pay you. Which is what our society bases worth on, right? And in my heart I've always felt that being a housewife and a mother is absolutely a worthy occupation but there was always part of me that felt that if I went out and got a well-paying job (say, as a nurse which I was educated to be), my husband would not have to work so hard.
But I could not figure out how to be a good wife, a good mother and an income earner all at the same time. And I knew and I KNOW that many women can do this but I just never could. And thankfully wasn't forced into it.
But all of that is behind me and I am actually at an age where many people retire from their "real" jobs and even my husband is choosing the hours he wants to work and he is doing things that make his soul happy and he would gladly support me in every way to do things that make my soul happy and he does.
But when it comes to figuring out what I would like to do in that vein, I can never figure it out. Toss in my neurosis about leaving behind what is comfortable to me (am I agoraphobic or do I really just like my house a lot?) and it's hard. And now I've reached the age where I get mail every day that reminds me that I am about to qualify for Medicare, I feel time breathing down my neck. There is also the mirror for a reminder and the almost constant pain in my joints is absolutely another.
And it all boils down to...WHAT THE FUCK DO I WANT? 

And then I feel guilty for even having those thoughts because I am one of the luckiest women on earth and have far more than I ever could have dreamed, especially when it comes to love and family.

But you know, I'm human.

There are some dreams that I've had that I'll never get my hands on. Some of them because I haven't made the effort to achieve them, some because they are the sort of dreams that would require the absolute participation in and shared enthusiasm of my husband and that simply doesn't always happen.
He's probably never going to get his thousand acres on a lake, either. Or is it a hundred? Either way, probably not although if I died tomorrow I think that within a year he'd be figuring it out.
And of course our fleeting plan to move to either Mexico or Costa Rica for our retirement ended the second Owen was born. I mean...we are just not the twice-a-year-visits sort of grandparents.

And so all of this has been weighing on me and yesterday I scrubbed all of the toilets for the ten thousandth time of my life and that somehow just nailed it for me- I will always be scrubbing toilets. And when I die, someone else will do it and life will go on and so WHAT THE FUCK?

Or something like that.

So I took my walk this morning and I've been to Publix and I've done some ironing and it occurs to me that what I might really want is a swimming pool. Cheaper than a beach house. We've discussed this before and Mr. Moon is not as enthusiastic about the idea as I am although it would be good for both of us in so many ways. And where I'd like to put it is right where eight Bradford pears are growing and they need to be taken out.

Maybe it's not a swimming pool I really want. Maybe what I really want is to be able to kneel and get up without having to think about it and gather my forces before I attempt it. Maybe what I want is the impossible- to be young again.
Or at the very least, not in pain again.
To dance again without knowing that I look like an old person dancing.
To be able to put on lipstick and see a me in the mirror that's pretty cute.
To be able to spell words that I used to be able to spell without a thought. To be able to remember words that I can't remember now.
And I'm not stuck on all of this. I accept and I cherish being a grandmother.
But somehow I'm just not finished wanting what I want. Whatever that is.
I am so grateful to still be able to move my body even if it does hurt. I am so grateful that I can still grow food and shop for food and cook food.
Real food.
I am so grateful that my grandbabies like me and probably even love me.
But that's not all of it.
And dammit, since I have lived this long which is far longer than I ever thought I'd live, I don't want the last years of this life to be one compromise after another. Some of that is inevitable.
But.
I still want to be a little wild sometimes.
I still want to be amazed sometimes.
I still want to be Mary.
I want to not be done living until I actually die.

And isn't that okay?

Meanwhile, I need to get off my mental ass and figure out a few things that I want to do and then just do them.
Easier said than done.
But I really want to try.

And now I'm going to go cook a giant mustard green leaf. And a few other things.

God. Supper's going to be late again. My poor husband.

Love...Ms. Moon