The Strangest Of Times

I took a walk this morning and it was so damn hot that I truly doubted I would be able to do the last five hundred yards or so to my house. I even crossed the road to walk off of the sidewalk because that side was shadier but it did not help much, not to mention that was I walking in almost knee-high grass which means ticks and possible snakes. 

Oh, Florida! Why are you trying to kill me?
Or perhaps more to the point- oh, Mary! Why are you trying to kill yourself?

I got home and doused my face with water over and over and drank deeply of more water and then I took the trash and the recycle and then I met up with Lily and Owen and Gibson and Magnolia June at the Wacissa where I embarrassed my daughter and could easily have gotten into a fight.
Sigh.
When we go to the river we always try to set up under the shade of the big cypress at the edge of the water and so we did today. There was a group of kids right next to us- teenagers- and they seemed lovely and the girls, especially were at that age and place in their lives where they don't even have a clue as to how powerfully beautiful they are. Such perfect skin and hair and lean, strong bodies they had. The boys, as boys that age generally are, were gangly and not nearly caught up to the girls in development but they weren't loud and they sipped grape sodas and swam some and jumped off the rope swing some and I had no problem with them whatsoever. But right where they had laid their towels and where they were hanging out, was a red waterproof speaker wedged between two roots of the cypress tree and very, very loud country music was blasting forth from it.
There was nothing inherently wrong with the music. It's just that when I go to the river or the beach I really don't want to listen to music.  And if I did, I'd wear some damn headphones. They make them wireless and waterproof now, just like this red Jensen speaker was.
I bitched about it to Lily and then I asked one of the girls if it was theirs. She said, "No. It was here when we got here."
I walked around and asked everyone (I thought) there if it belonged to them. Everyone looked as mystified as I was about who the owner was so finally, I just walked over and figured out how to turn it off and did just that.
Heavenly silence ensued with nothing but birdsong and child-calls to break it.
But then...BUT THEN! A guy walked over to it and turned it back on and came over to me and said, "That's mine and I'm here with my wife and kids and we're enjoying ourselves swimming and hanging out and listening to the music."
He didn't look particularly threatening and he was wearing swim trunks and a ball cap with a Florida flag on it which was okay. I mean- it wasn't either a MAGA cap nor did it have a Confederate flag on it. So I said something like, "Well, yeah, but not all of us are here to listen to music. That's why they make headphones."
"Well I've been here all day long," he said, "And it's my right to listen to music."
I knew that I was not going to win any argument with this guy and so I backed right down and said, "Sure, okay," and he walked back to the little picnic pavilion which was not exactly close to where the speaker was and I sat back down in my chair.
"Oh well," I told Lily.
It's funny- even two years ago I doubt I would have done a damn thing about that music. Maybe I feel like no one would hit an old lady or maybe I just don't give a shit about propriety any more but I sincerely was NOT in the mood to listen to anyone else's choice of music.
Eventually, he grabbed the speaker and took it with him up to the pavilion but he made damn sure I realized that it was as loud, if not louder, than ever.
Whatever. What a little dick.
They kept the thing going at full blast until the very second they put in the car when they left and I guess he proved his point but I tell you what- I could feel my whole body relax when they finally took off. Not because they were gone but because I didn't have to listen to the crap that passes for country music anymore.

Besides that, it was a fine day at the river. Owen's goggles recently broke and his mama hasn't had a chance to buy him any new ones so he was pretty put out about that but Gibson did finally share his. Speaking of Gibson- that child will make friends with ANYONE! He literally does not know a stranger. Which is fine if you're right there to make sure that whoever he's talking to is an okay person for him to talk to but Lily's always afraid that he's going to say something inappropriate because the child just WILL say whatever he's thinking which I find charming but which everyone else might not. For example- once Hank brought a friend to the river whom I am sure preferred the "they" pronoun which is something we are quite comfortable and familiar with but Gibson was fascinated.
"Are you a boy or a girl?" he asked with no guile whatsoever. He truly wanted to know.
He not only doesn't pretend not to see differences, he wants to explore the subject of them. Which I think is pretty cool but is probably not always comfortable for the person he's interested in. He's no more afraid to ask a person about their skin color or body shape or age or gender than he is to ask where they're from, despite all of Lily's admonitions to him that differences are no big deal at all.
I love that kid.

I brought a jar of the dill pickles that I'd put in the refrigerator for taste-testing and they got eaten up.

Here's a cute little mermaid enjoying one. 

I can't believe I was able to put that picture in. My internet is still fucked up. While we were at the Wacissa a Century Link truck pulled into the parking lot and continued on around the loop of it and I thought, "Goddam it! Go fix my wifi!" There is absolutely NO reason to be in the parking lot of the Wacissa in Jefferson County, Florida unless you are about to make use of the river in one form or another. It's literally at the very end of a very country road. 

But. Hey. I do have internet. 

What I don't have is my husband back. He was planning on coming home tonight after fishing all day  but he called me and said that he was just too tired and that they needed to clean up the house he's been staying in. He'll get up very early in the morning and drive back here tomorrow and get dressed for work and go on in to the credit union where his office is. 

He sounded exhausted and I would much rather have him go to bed early than to drive home so very, very tired. 

We just got another minuscule rain shower, not nearly enough to dampen the dirt but it surely did drop the temperature some. I have a very nice photo of a fine pig that I took on my walk this morning, PLUS, another cute picture of Maggie, PLUS, a picture of Darla and some of her chicks but no matter how hard I try I can't post them. 

Use your imagination. 

So guess what? That latest rape accusation against Trump?

Completely ignored. 

Again. 

How many women does this make now? 

As proof that he did not do what she accused him of he has this to say, "She's not my type."

Well, then. There you go. 

I hate that man with the smoldering heat of the surface of the sun. 

Which is even hotter than it was in Lloyd today. 

Having Donald Trump for a president is like having the man who abused you as your boss. The boss of the job you cannot quit. The boss who lives with you and from whom you cannot escape no matter where in the world you may go. 

In other words- a whole lot of us are in a perpetual state of anxiety, fear, revulsion, and disbelief. The very news of every day should require a trigger warning. 

And we are doing our best to try to maintain any sort of sanity at all. And it's not easy. 

I believe I will now go make some chicken and rice. 

Hang in there, babies. Nothing lasts forever. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Come On, Rain! Quit Toying With Me

I believe it may be just about time to make a tomato pie. Either that or a big ol' pile of bacon and tomato sandwiches. I leave out the lettuce because what purpose does it serve? Merely to dilute the sturdy, salty, perfect flavors of tomato and bacon and who needs that?
Not me.
Maybe a little arugula would be good though. Arugula adds rather than takes away as far as I'm concerned. Which reminds me- I need to plant another row of that peppery green. I just pulled up a gone-to-seed and bug-eaten row a few days ago.
I can't even remember the last bacon and tomato sandwich I had. I also can't remember the last time we grew such pretty tomatoes. This two things may well be related.

Another day in Lloyd. It's been in the mid to upper nineties all day long and you would think that I'd have had the sense to stay inside and make Maggie's dresses but no. Not me! I decided to clean up and trim back the camellia bed but it's in the shade so it wasn't so bad. I pulled or cut enough to fill up the garden cart three times. Mr. Moon is going to have to get to that burn pile soon. It's about a quarter of an acre across at this point. I did get the mermaid fabric cut out for one dress and the old Singer set up so I can start sewing tomorrow if I find the time.
That's sort of supposed to be funny and also sort of not funny because it does seem as if my days get filled up pretty quickly. I may not do a lot but I manage to keep busy.
One of the things I did today was try to figure out what was going on with my dishwasher. It was giving me error messages and not draining properly. This generally means that food debris has gotten in the drain part of the machine so I dug around in that (pleasant task) and discovered this just hanging out:

It took me a great and concerted effort to try and figure out where the mysterious object belonged but I finally did and was able to fit it back into place with a satisfying click and then ran a rinse cycle and it did drain so maybe I've fixed it. 

If so, Ripley's Believe It Or Not does need to be alerted. 

I have heard from Jessie and they made it all the way to Black Mountain, North Carolina. Hurray! She said the boys did great. I bet they're so happy to be there. 

I've also heard from Mr. Moon. They had another full day of fishing and everyone caught their limit of snapper for the third day in a row. 

We are going to be eating some fish with our tomatoes!

Darla is taking her children farther afield every day. This afternoon she brought them up almost all the way to the back steps. They seem to be growing at an accelerated rate. I am not sure if this is true or merely an illusion. But they are certainly healthy and robust small beings and it does tickle me to see them all in a nesting box at night with their mother. I do not think that this particular brood is all roosters but only time will tell. 

And that's my world today. I've been listening to some decent books in the past few days which I had about given up hope for. Seems like I've heard about every book on one of the apps my library uses for audio books but I found a different one that has a few new choices and one of the books I had on hold came through so I've felt rich in that regard. One of the books was Allison Pearson's "How Hard Can It Be?" She's the same author who wrote "I Don't Know How She Does It" which was hugely popular in the chick-lit world. I hate that term. 

How degrading! 

As if the problems and joys and experiences of women and mothers in the modern world are less important or "literary" than those experienced by men. 

Oh please. 

I'm sick and tired of reading books by male authors that are supposedly just absolute literary treasures but that leave me cold and unsatisfied. I'm certainly not saying that all books written by men are not worth my time. That would be ridiculous. But give me a book wherein a woman talks honestly about how incredibly difficult it is for a woman who is going through menopause to be raising children whose hormones are just beginning to rage within them while dealing at the same with parents and their health and also, oh yes, perhaps a job where due to her age she is considered to be elderly and of absolutely no consequence, and who is of course trying to keep a marriage on track and I will give you a resounding WELL DONE and THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

Did that sentence make sense? 

Probably not. 

I shall blame my hormones or lack thereof. 

Anyway, I really enjoyed listening to that book even though the ending was a bit fairy-tale-ish. Although- what's wrong with believing that there can be light at the end of the tunnel and also life at the end of menopause?

I started today to listen to the book I'd had on hold which is James Lee Burke's "New Iberia Blues". Speaking of male authors. 

I have a long and complicated relationship with Mr. Burke. His books often delve into the deepest and meanest part of the human psyche and there are so many memories and flashbacks of war and of violence but his sense of place and the way he describes Louisiana never fail to give me pause. And many of his books, this one included, are narrated by Will Patton who seems to capture perfectly the heat and the humidity, the fecundity, evil, and  angelic weariness of Burke's landscapes. 

He addresses racism and misogyny, addiction, religion, friendship, love, loss, guilt, violence, evil, goodness and the cuisine of Louisiana. 

So yeah- definitely worth listening to in my opinion. Sometimes I get a little lost as to who is who and what their place in the story is as I concentrate on whatever task it is I am doing or if my thoughts fly elsewhere for a few moments but I can always go back and restart a chapter. 

Audio books are a huge part of my life and I like listening to podcasts as well. 

Another thing about my phone I cherish. 

Thunder is rumbling off towards the west and occasionally a surprising breath of cooler air makes itself felt. The radar would seem to indicate that a tiny storm system is approaching and I will be so happy if that turns into a bit of rain here. We're not dry by any means. Not suffering from drought at all but you know me- I consider water falling from the sky to be a blessing from the gods. Unless a hurricane is involved. 

Well. We shall see. All will be revealed. And so on and so forth. 

Love...Ms. Moon

There Is So Much I Do Not Understand And Even Fewer Things I I Know For Certain But The Obligation Of Keeping Children Safe Is One Thing I'm Pretty Sure Of

I have had a satisfying day, never once even leaving my yard. It was the sort of day that I love. I got a few things done and enjoyed almost everything I did, even the weeding I managed to get done in the garden before the threat of heatstroke drove me back inside.
Lily kept sending pictures of the fun the kids were having at her house and that made me happy. Here are Owen and August and Maggie in the little pool.

I love the expressions on August's and Owen's faces. 

Movie and pretzel time. 

And finally this and my heart sort of burst. 

Levon fell asleep in his cousin Owen's arms. 

And of course I can't help but think of the children in that detention center in El Paso where older children are taking care of babies and of the conditions there and if I think about it too much I feel like I'll fly out of my body and I don't know what to do with the anger and the pain and the grieving. The grieving for the children and for their families and yes, even for our country which, because of this situation, has lost any moral higher ground it may have ever had. 

My god, my god, my god, my god. 

How have we forsaken the children? 

Even as laws are being passed protecting clumps of cells because life is sacred, we are allowing this to happen. 

And what are we, the people, supposed to do? I feel so very, very helpless. And worse- so very, very hopeless. 

But my babies- they are good and they are loved and they are protected and they are fed and bathed and have soft, cozy blankets and soft, cozy beds. They have soap and they have toothbrushes. They have their mommies and their daddies. And this is how it should be for everyone's babies. And goddammit- no one in our government should be doing one damn thing besides dealing with this horrible situation and making it right. 

I've been thinking about this all day long in a most immediate way. I realize that I can't even look at the pictures online because my mother soul, my human soul, can't bear it and yet- that's such a ridiculous thing to say. It's happening whether my heart can take it or not. 

And I feel guilty for going along, tra-la-la-la-la, having a beautiful day while this is happening in the city where I was born. 

And that's not the only place, I am sure. 

But here I am, tra-la-la-la-la indeed, somehow still able to go about a normal day and knowing at the same time that we are actually running concentration camps in this country and that people are dying in them. How can one person hold such diverse emotions? The dread and guilt and anger and grief and the enjoyment of a simple day, the gratitude for the health and the happiness of my grandchildren. 

I don't know. I really don't. 

But I have a feeling that this is the way it was in Germany when the Nazis started taking over. 

Still...one must tend what is before one to tend. I suppose. And I pulled out my canning kettle and filled it up and sterilized pint jars in it and cut up the cucumbers filling my refrigerator. 

I made my brine and boiled it with a head's worth of peeled garlic cloves. I got out my stashed-away dill seed and pickling spices and packed the hot jars with the cucumbers and added the spices and seeds and poured the brine carefully into the jars, sealed them and put them back in the canner to boil for fifteen minutes. 

All six pints have sucked their lids in which means they are safe to store now. There is something about the preserving of food which satisfies something very, very deep in me. It's sort of ridiculous- the stores are filled with amazing pickles and delicious vinegary things but growing the vegetables and then canning them myself goes way beyond the enjoyment of the pickles themselves. It is the alchemy of putting seeds into dirt and watching those seeds sprout and flower and produce food and then taking the food and making something good out of it that will last throughout the fall and the winter and into next year to be enjoyed by my family that pleases me so. 

It's the same sort of feeling I get when I make Maggie or August something to wear with my own two hands and a piece of cloth and some thread and my old sewing machine. It is probably something akin to the way an artist feels when he or she takes a canvas and some paints and creates a picture that was not there before in any way, shape, or form. Or the way a poet takes a blank piece of paper and fills it with words that create an image, a feeling an entire life story in verses. The way a musician takes the air and fills it with notes that can inspire people to dance, to feel, to remember, to laugh and to cry. The way an actor can take words and a space to create a reality that is more believable than real life. 

And speaking of musicians- every review of last night's Stones' concert in Chicago has been incredibly positive. They all speak of Mick's astounding ability to move and dance and run and skip and wiggle his hips and sing and play harmonica as if he was joyfully celebrating the fact that he is indeed alive and very, very well. One reporter said something like, "He moved like you've never moved on your best damn day." 

Rolling Stone's Rob Sheffield said this:

"Could it be that for a moment—maybe just a fraction of a flicker of a moment—the Rolling Stones wondered if they needed to prove they could do this? Maybe. But not bloody likely. Every moment of “Miss You” was the Rolling Stones at the top of their game—as was the entire show. Make no mistake, these guys were shamelessly showing off all night. They earned that."

Well. Here we are. All doing what we do on this planet whether for survival or for joy or for necessity or from habit or fear or celebration or lust or guilt or love or for reasons mysterious even to ourselves. We are rarely wise, we are often foolish. We are rarely satisfied, we are often confused. 

And yet, none of us is going to get out of here alive. And when they say "you can't take it with you" that applies not only to earthly treasure but also to our love, our talents, our memories, our attempts to do the very best we can for ourselves and for each other. Gotta spend all that shit while we're here. Spread it around. 

Especially the love. 

I just don't even know what else to say. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Martinis Also Make Things More Better

Jessie and her children and Lily and her children were going to come out today for a good-bye pizza party which is why I bought a bunch of frozen pizzas yesterday. It turned out, however, that a repairman was scheduled to be at Jessie's at noon so we all went to her house and I took the pizzas with me for Jessie to bake in her oven. The kids had so much fun. Lily's three love playing with August and Levon and their toys and as you can see, Doctor Gibson was giving August a shot after an exam. Maggie gave me a check-up as well and I have to tell you that even that made me a little anxious although the glasses she was wearing that came with the doctor kit (we all know that all doctors wear glasses because they are all brilliant and brilliant people wear glasses, right?) made her look so dang cute that I almost couldn't stand it. Gibson and Owen are both so good with the younger ones and Maggie is in love with Levon and he loves her. August thinks that Gibson and Owen are the coolest dudes on the planet and the big boys truly appreciate and enjoy his adoration so it all works out very well.
Boppy came by for a short visit and a few pieces of pizza before he left to go fishing. There was a dance party going on for a little while and Gibson was going to show us his Irish Riverdancing style but Owen made a snide remark about how the entire house would shake which led to Gibson hiding as best he could under August's bed.
Here he is being comforted a little later by his mother.

"Your brother's a butt," said Lily. That cheered Gibson up tremendously. 

And in the interest of fairness I will add that all brothers can be butts even if they are precious people whose MerMers adore them. 

Finally it became apparent that Jessie really needed for us to leave so that she could get things done in preparation for their journey to North Carolina. Lily offered to keep the boys tomorrow which caused huge celebratory cheers from all of the kids except for Levon who was clueless about what that means but he'll have a good time too. Plans were made concerning swimming in the little pool and perhaps nap-taking on Gibson's bed and the menu was discussed. Chicken nuggets will be served, I think. 

It was damn hard for me to tear myself away from my youngest daughter and her boys. Levon was happy to give me a kiss and August told me again that he will not forget my name. He also said that yes, he was going to have a wonderful time on the mountain with his other cousins and other grandmother and grandfather but that it would be "more better" if Boppy and I came to visit. 

I told him that we would. 

What lucky children these boys are to be able to experience the beautiful place where their daddy grew up and all of the love associated with that. 

And I know it. 

I finally finished saying my good-byes and got in my car and drove to Joanne's Fabrics where I bought a pattern and some fabric to make Maggie two new dresses. 

The mermaid material. I think Maggie will like this a lot.

A very soft and breathable sort-of-gingham which frankly, I would like a dress made of. Not as fun as the mermaids but I am sure it will be more comfortable. 

I need a project I can do inside because this heat is absolutely intolerable. 

I just went out a few moments ago to pick the garden and gather the eggs and even that short of a time out in the heat made me want to smack god in the head. Also, the ant bites I got while going through the cucumber vines didn't help. I feel so sorry for the chickens with all of their feathers. Summer is hard on them and I expect the number of eggs I get to decrease in this heat. 

Here's a picture of Darla and the babies who are growing up nicely. 

They've been doing fine outside of the coop. Darla hasn't let them get very far away from it in their scratching and exploring. Every day the boundaries get a little tiny bit further out but it's a process. She is such a good mother. Last night, instead of returning to their baby coop to sleep, she ushered them into the hen house to sleep with the rest of the flock. That girl knows what she's doing. 

And so. Well. It would appear that we almost went to war last night. If what Trump says is true- that he 86'ed the attack due to not feeling right about killing a possible 150 people for the downing of an unmanned drone, I have to say that it would be the very first thing I've heard which makes him sound like a human being. 

But. 

I seriously doubt that's the reason. If he had any respect for human life at all, children would not be sleeping under tinfoil in cages on the border. 

And then there's the news that E. Jean Carroll has accused the president of raping her back in the nineties which doesn't surprise anyone at all. How incredibly bizarre is it that this story has not been met with absolute stunned shock? Instead it's like, "Oh yeah. Sounds like something Trump would do."

How in the everloving fuck have we gotten here?

This man would not get through the hiring process to be the custodian at a school. And yet- almost half of the voters in this country jumped at the chance to vote for the vile dickwad. 

You want to know what is making me smile tonight?

This. 

The Stones are going to open their USA tour tonight in Chicago and that's Mick, doing the final walk-through before showtime. Three months ago he had heart surgery. He will be seventy-six years old next month. I bet you anything that Keith Richards cannot wipe the smile off his face as he gets ready to go onstage. 

Here's a tiny bit of an interview with my spirit totem animal in the Chicago Tribune:

Q: It’s often said that being in a band is like being married to a bunch of people at the same time. What’s the state of the Stones marriage after 50 years?

A: (Laughs). We’re still deciding who’s Mr. and Mrs.

He also said, "What else would I be doing?" when asked if he'd anticipated doing another tour

in 2019. 

Well, I see that copying and pasting has once again changed my whole set-up here so I'll just get on with my life and let you get on with yours. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Very, Very Full Day

I got up pretty early this morning because I had to go into town to get my blood drawn in advance of my routine-every-six-months check-up with the sweet and lovely Dr. Zorn next week and if you know me at all you know how much I hate this and even if you do know me I doubt you know how much I have been dreading this appointment. I was okay about it in February and March but in April I started thinking about it too much and then in May I began really worrying about it and now it's June and I will admit that it's been on my mind almost constantly and yes, I do have a neurosis about this and no, I don't understand it but it's as real and solid as my kitchen stove, as undeniable as the sunrise.
So. Yes. I had to go get my blood drawn and as I have said before, the lab where I go packs people in like anchovies are packed into a small tin and when I'd first signed in and found a spare chair to sit in, I looked around and almost got back up and fled.
But I did not.
I sat there for the forty-five minutes it took for my name to be flashed up on the screen and then it took approximately forty-five seconds for the phlebotomist to take my blood. She was excellent and I told her so. I barely felt the needle slip into that vein.

And then I went to Hardee's and bought myself an egg, bacon, and cheese biscuit because it had been a fasting blood situation and I ate it on my way to Jessie's house, thanking god and all the angels for there not being a Hardee's at the Lloyd exit off of I-10 because if there is one fast food outlet that I have a very hard time avoiding, it is Hardee's.
That chain has its shit together when it comes to evil deliciousness.
I went to Jessie's because she and Vergil and the boys are leaving for their North Carolina summer trip on Sunday and it was my plan to try and help Jessie with the boys a bit so that she could get a few things done in preparation.
I can't say I helped that much but stories were read and while I was reading a tiredness came over me that reminded me of my days working at the Birth Center and how I'd feel after being up all night and still had work to do after the new family went home- the scrubbing of the tub, the finishing up of the laundry, the remaking of the bed, the sterilizing of the instruments and so forth. I'm not sure why I felt so suddenly exhausted but the point came when I could not keep my eyes open and I apologized to Jessie and took a tiny nap on August's bed.
It was okay and I felt much better when I woke up. I think that between the dread of the upcoming appointment and the knowledge that Jessie is going to be gone for a few months is dragging me down to some place that only sleep can rescue me from. Temporarily, at least.
We went and got a nice lunch and then I stayed at Jessie's house with Levon while Jessie took August to the doctor because he is obviously not hearing very well out of one ear. There is no doubt that it's related to this sinus infection he's had but she was worried and wanted it checked before they left. I had a good time with Levon and he was his merry self. We went outside so that he could play and we read a bunch of baby books and we did puzzles and played with a dinosaur train and looked at pictures on my phone of all his favorite people. He asked for milk and I gave him some and when I got my comb out to deal with my hair, putting it back in the braid I'd made at seven thirty this morning, I combed his hair a little bit, so very gently, and he liked it and asked for more and so I combed that fine, blond angel hair of his and sang him songs about how much I love him.
I can't believe they're leaving. And oh! What an amazing time they're going to have and August still remembers the little creek on his other grandmother's mountain where they waded and he found crawfish and he talked about his cousins and how he'll play with them and it's so good that he and Levon have this whole other world to live in and explore and be loved in- their daddy's world- but it's going to be hard on me, not seeing them for such a long time. They grow and change so quickly right now that even if we go and visit them, which of course we will, they will be completely different little boys in some ways although August did tell me that he will remember my name.

Oh Lord.

So that was the better part of my day and then I had to go to Publix and Mr. Moon asked if I would buy chocolate chips so that he could make cookies to take fishing with him this weekend which was a blatant request for me to make cookies and so I came home and made oatmeal, raisin, pecan, chocolate chip cookies which are practically health food if you think about it. And unloaded the groceries and put a load of laundry in the dryer and hung up the shower curtain I washed yesterday and I am so tired.
I know it's not real fatigue though, simply the fatigue of neurotic dread and anticipatory grieving.
I am so dramatic.
Well, guess what? I just am.

When I opened my freezer to put away the frozen pizzas I had bought (and that will be explained tomorrow, most likely) I discovered a box that was marked "Wild Alligator Meat" and also, "5.25 pounds."
As I told my husband who explained that this was a gift from a fishing buddy of his, I have no idea what to do with alligator meat and very little desire to learn.
I think he may have been hurt.
Well, this woman may have absolutely reached her limit on dealing with wild game. I'll take all of the small feral pigs you bring me but alligator meat? 
Yeah, probably not.
But one never knows.

That's my daily report.
More tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not Apologizing, Just Saying

The internet seems to be much snappier today and for that I am grateful. That is a picture of Ren, the dog who followed me on my walk yesterday whom I reunited with her human. I know and I realize that this is not a very interesting picture nor is the tale of finding a dog and calling her owner very interesting either.
Lord, but I have become more than boring. I have become...sadly irrelevant.
I do not say this in order to receive assurances that I am not. I know the truth of it. But here's the thing- this is just the way my life is right now. And quite frankly, I would so much rather be boring than have something like a dread diagnosis to discuss. And to be honest, I am not bored myself. At least, I don't think I am. I always seem to manage to find something to keep me satisfactorily entertained.
Why- take today for example! I cleaned the mud/laundry room! Last night my husband finally cleared his tools out of there. The tools he used to use when he was still redoing his bathroom. That project has come to a slow yet seemingly definite halt. I am not sure why. He got all the way to the point of putting the sink in when he just...lost...interest?
He claims that he doesn't really like the sink he bought but surely that can't be the whole story, can it? Thirty-five years with this man and I really can't say that I know him through and through.
Meanwhile, he has stashed tools and lumber and the offending sink in what used to be MY office but which is now a complete area of chaos and crap. Sometimes I get so mad about this. Or perhaps I am merely hurt. I don't know. And in his mind, I feel quite certain, he feels completely justified in doing this. I haven't used that space in a long time but what he doesn't understand is that for eons women have wanted nothing more than a room of our own. To call our own. To claim as our own. To deny entrance to to anyone else, no matter what we do or do not use it for.
Sigh.
I haven't mentioned the old toilet on the deck and yet, now I have.
Well.
I love that man with every fiber of my being and he will always be the miracle of my life but there are things he does that drive me insane just as anyone who is in a relationship of any length will admit to feeling about their partner if they are honest.
God knows that I do plenty of things that drive him crazy too, I'm sure.
But! I cleaned the mud/laundry room. I swept and scrubbed and mopped. I also cleaned the shower in my bathroom which I never notice the mold-growth in until suddenly, it is absolutely impossible to ignore. In my defense, I usually shower at night and at my age I keep the lights low in the bathroom in the fear that I might catch sight of myself in a mirror. The lower the lighting, the better. And how much light do I need to take a shower and brush my teeth? Hell, I could do those things in the dark if I had to.
That time may be coming.
But also- I obviously don't wear my glasses in the shower and that helps a great deal with the denial of mildew factor.
So anyway, I took my bucket and bleach and cleaning foams and potions and sprayed and scrubbed and now the shower looks better, even in the light. Even with my glasses on.

And THEN! AND THEN! I swept and mopped the kitchen and that bathroom and so at least the boards on that floor feel smooth and lovely against my feet for this red hot second. And the scent of vinegar and Fabuloso perfume the house and there are also  some clean rugs and I am happy about all of that.
It rained on and off all day but I did get out to the garden to do some weeding and picked some tomatoes and some beans, some squash and some leeks.
Dinner.

Here are the bananas growing beside my kitchen door.

Can you see them? Aren't they pretty? Do you think that the whole Garden of Eden myth would be more believable if the serpent offered Eve a banana? 

I do. 

A banana can give a girl ideas and it's such a delicious fruit. Or herb, I think it may be, technically. Did I just read that somewhere? 

I don't know. 

Anyway, Joanne from Cup On The Bus  asked me if I would give Granny Matthew's eggplant casserole recipe and I will gladly do that. I may have done so before but who can remember such things? Certainly not me. 

It's heaven-food for me, this recipe. Full of carby goodness and it tastes a bit like Thanksgiving stuffing if you use the Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix and bread crumbs as I do. I baked it last night along with a chicken and that was absolutely perfect. 

Granny Matthew's Eggplant Casserole

1 large or 2 small eggplants, peeled

4 tbs. melted butter (you can easily use half that if you want)

1/4 chopped onion (or, if you're like me- one entire onion, chopped)

1 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. pepper

Pinch of oregano

2 eggs, beaten

4 tbs. milk

1 cup crisp breadcrumbs 

Boil or steam eggplant until tender. Let cool a bit. Cook chopped onions in butter. Set aside to cool. Mash drained eggplant to a smooth pulp, add seasonings, eggs, milk, onions and butter, and breadcrumbs. Mix. Turn mixture into greased casserole dish. I like to top with a few more of the breadcrumbs, sliced tomatoes, and a little cheese before baking in a 350 degree oven for about twenty minutes or until set. 

Last night when I made this I carefully sliced a whole bunch of cherry tomatoes from the garden and layered them on top with the bread crumbs and cheese. I have also, in my vegetarian days, made this a main dish by draining, pressing, and mashing tofu to add to the eggplant. As with any recipe I may offer I will just say- make it yours. But this is the basic template and it is good. 

Now I am off to make tonight's supper which is going to involve the vegetables I picked in a stir fry. Mr. Moon is researching a soap and vinegar concoction to spray the field peas with to get rid of the black aphids which a million ladybugs could not deal with at this point.

You've not known grossness until you've picked beans that are covered in black aphids and let us not forget the ants which are also on the beans because ants actually herd and farm aphids and MILK THEM. 

I am not even kidding you. 

Thus, the bodies of the gazillions of aphids get smushed as you pick the beans resulting in a orangish brown stain on your hands and you also get ant bit. 

Gardening is one of the reasons that I never truly get bored but I'm not sure it's as interesting to anyone reading this as it is to me. Sort of like chickens. But, not quite as exciting. 

Ah well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just Stuff

I waited until way-too-late o'clock to take my walk today but it turned out that the timing was pretty good because I met a sweet little dog who appeared to be out adventuring. I checked her tag and there was a name and a number on it, as well as her name, which was Ren.

Since this is modern times, I could just take my phone out of my pocket where it had been reading me an audio book and called the number of Brett, the supposed human of this particular dog. He answered and yes, it was his dog and he'd realized he'd left the door open and had been on his way home from Monticello to find her when I called. 
Ren walked home with me and Brett came and got her.
She was a pretty little thing and followed right along with me and I thought about how dogs are so conditioned to obey humans that they'll even obey a complete stranger. Dogs are not cats, y'all. I suppose you have noticed this.
Brett was a nice guy and he liked my yard. We talked a little bit about gardening. He's just learning and I wish I'd had more to offer him in the way of advice but I don't. At least half the time I have no idea what I'm doing and that's just a fact, even after all these years digging in the dirt. Forty or more years, actually, and I've never felt like I have much of a clue.

I tried to work outside some after my walk, speaking of dirt. That lasted for maybe an hour. It's just too hot and humid and thankfully, a rainstorm came and I had a good excuse to come back into the air-conditioning where I stood in front of the TV and watched Tales of the City and ironed. I do highly recommend that series.

I got to see Owen and Gibson and Maggie and Jason today, albeit briefly. They came by on their way to go fishing. They needed to borrow a few of Boppy's fishing things. As Lily said they had a jug of water, a bag of chips, one fishing pole, and a tackle box from Jason's childhood. She also said that Jason was brave and maybe slightly delusional about how this was going to go. The kids sure were excited. Maggie had the little monkey woman doll I made for her and she was so thrilled to show it to me. "You made it for me!" she said. It was a cute doll. I had forgotten that I gave it substantial eyebrows to match Maggie's.

And now it's evening and it's still raining. I let the baby chicks go outside the coop today and I hope they're all okay. I'll go check in a little while.

None of my pictures will upload tonight. Our internet has been shit ever since they got it back on. It's better than dial-up used to be but not by a whole lot.
And I'm just feeling cranky.
Bitchy.
Sort of mean.
Regretful. Self-hating. Guilty, shame-based. Anxious. All the usual stuff.
I don't know what's wrong with me but I need to snap out of it.

I've made Granny M's eggplant casserole out of the beautiful, gorgeous, shiny eggplant that I picked today. I've talked about Granny M. before. Sometimes we called her Mrs. Matthews but mainly, she was Granny M. and she taught me about half of what I know when it comes to cooking just from watching her shuffle around a kitchen wearing a negligee with a cigarette firmly held between her lips, cutting up this, adding a pinch of that, mixing up a bowl of something else before she poured it into a skillet and baked it. I loved that woman and I think of her more often than you'd think for someone who wasn't really related to me at all.
The rain is still falling, but gently.
There are clean, ironed shirts in the closet.
Whatever it is that I'm feeling or going through or imagining will pass eventually.

We persevere, don't we?
Yes. Mostly we do.

Love...Ms. Moon

Busy Day

This is going to be short and sweet. I got home late from being in town and staying with August and Levon while Jessie had another appointment and I have a dishwasher to unload and a soup to make.
Corn chowder tonight. Somehow we have ended up with many ears of corn. Not corn that I grew but corn that someone grew.
It's been a good day. I took a nice walk and didn't die and did some things around the house and then weeded cucumbers and picked cucumbers and then I went to town to stay with those boys who were napping the entire time Jessie was gone.
Poor little mama. She could have had a nap herself. It almost never happens that they coordinate naps.
But August woke up when Jessie got home and then Levon did too and I got to read August a few books. He handed me one, a Berenstain Bears story about manners and said, "This is a sweet book. It's like you and me."
Swoon.
Then quick, quick, I drove to Publix and did my shopping and now I'm home, car unloaded, groceries unloaded, everything put away, eggs collected. Today's pickings have been put away in the refrigerator.

I think it might be just about time to get out the canning kettle and the pickle recipes. 

I have some bananas growing on a stalk way up in the banana tree (bush?) and will get a picture soon. I have no idea how I'm going to get them down. I'm pretty excited though. This almost never happens. 

Alright. Time to go shuck corn and cut it off the cob. I know my husband is exhausted. He literally got up at 3:00 a.m. to drive to St. Pete to pick up a truck and drive it back. He's had a very, very long day. I need to feed him and direct him to the bed. 

It's summertime. No doubt about it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Should Probably Lighten Up

That's a terrible picture, cutting off half of each baby, but by the time we all sit down to eat it's always a bit chaotic and I was practically standing on someone at another table and so there you go. It's sort of darling anyway, the two curly-headed cousins, eating their pancakes and bacon.

I've had too much sadness in my heart today. Do I always feel this way on Father's Day? I can't remember. I should go back and read what I've written before but I just don't feel like it. I am not entirely sad by any means. The fact that I somehow, by some damn miracle was able to find a man like Glen Moon to love me and be father to my children is a joyful thing. A thing I wonder at frequently. It is no secret that we choose the partners in life whom we feel most comfortable with because we know the steps we will dance with them. Thus, those who were abused pick out abusers to love, those who had addicts as parents pick out addicts to love. And so forth.
We all know this.
And yet, somehow, some way, when I met Glen I knew that I was being given a shot at happiness and at safety and security and even, dare I say it?
Love.
And the miracle part is that I did not just immediately disdain and discard him but instead, slowly accepted that he did indeed love me and that he would be the very best father my already-here children and any children-to-be-had could possibly have. All I had to do to confirm that was to look at his father who was good through and through and whom Glen loved tremendously and without reservation. Same with his mama.
And I took a deep breath and jumped and I have never, for a second, regretted that.
So there is that element to Father's Day which is yet one more made-up day that can bring up so many conflicted thoughts and emotions. Facebook is filled with pictures of loving good men, holding their children- husbands and fathers, all of them proclaiming, "Best Father in the World!"
In one way or another.
And I think about my own father whom I saw only once after I was five years old and how deep the wound was when my mother tore us away from him and how it's never healed and never will. She had no choice, my mother. The man well could have killed all of us, such a bad, bad drunk who had a gun.
Still.
There is a part of me that will never recover from that.
And then, oh yes! The stepfather. The Asshole. The abuser. I still can't say his name unless I am  forced to. That's how powerfully he affected my life.

In fact, I so often feel just this side of ruined by both men and there's a part of me who, when she sees posts on FB about how much someone misses their daddy who died I think, "At least you had a good father. At least you knew he loved you."
And I am bitter. And I am petty.

But. Even though all of this is on my heart today, there was this.

And there was all of this.

Levon wants to share food with Owen. He is a very generous child.

And this little girl who will grow up untarnished and unbent from her childhood. Who has a father who cherishes her and who has changed her diapers and picked out her outfits and rocked her to sleep and answered her questions and shown his love for her every day of her life. 

It is quite clear to me that she will never tolerate being treated in any manner which is not respectful in all regards. 

And there is nothing I could wish for more. 

It was a good Father's Day celebration. There were funny cards and sweet cards. Pancakes with sweet potatoes and bananas and apples. Bacon and sausage made of wild pig. The sausage, not the bacon. And there was a giant Costco cake. And little tastes of Vergil's latest oatmeal stout which was delicious. And a quiche that Lily made with tomatoes and basil and cheese. 

It was all good. 

Here is one of my very favorite pictures of the day.

Maggie had tucked one of her babies and my old Zippy into my bed together. Inter-species love. One of my very favorite things. 

After everyone went home, I took a long nap. Not so much because I was really tired. August slept beautifully last night and didn't wake up until nine this morning which might be a record for him. I needed a nap because in order to let things settle in my heart and in my brain.

Things are still settling. 

I saw a meme today that said, "Happy Father's Day to all of the fathers who didn't abuse their children." 

Wow. I know I'm not the only one. I wish to god I were.

Love...Ms. Moon

Grandchildren And Food. What Else Do You Want?

Late afternoon shadow in the library.

We have had a perfectly lovely day with Levon and August. They got here about lunchtime and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with apple slices. Levon asked for milk. So did August.
"Cow milk," August said. These days it's good to delineate exactly what kind of milk you want. There's your almond milk, your rice milk, your soy milk, your I-have-no-idea milk, and of course in some households there can be mommy milk.
Levon likes that kind the best but he likes cow milk too. So does August.
Levon is a fine little man and he was as happy today as he could be. He sort of likes me now. And his Boppy. I love the way he says, "Yes," when I ask him a question. It's so solemn and I'm so unused to little guys saying yes instead of no.
I discovered something he really likes today. Back scratching.
Let's face it- who doesn't love to have their back scratched? We never realize how itchy our backs are until someone scratches ours for us. So I scratched his for awhile and when I quit he hunched over and said, "More," and so I scratched it some more.
When it became obvious that he was getting tired I texted Jessie saying I had no idea how to get him to take a nap. She wrote back that I should give him a little something to eat, then some milk (cow) and then give him his purple shovel and put him in the bed and tell him it was time for a little nap.
"Ha-ha!" I thought. "Sure. Right. That'll happen."
Whatever. I gave him some food and then some milk and then I put him in the bed with his shovel and a few stuffed animals and told him it was time for a nap and by god that kid laid down and fell asleep. 

Honestly, I didn't even know this was possible. 

And he did not let go of that shovel the entire nap. 

August is just about glued to his grandfather. They watched some TV, they played Wii sword fighting, and then they fixed the lawnmower and August sat on Boppy's lap (with ear protection) and they mowed. When that was over he and Boppy both needed showers in the worst sort of way but before they got clean, they sat on the back steps and shared a Powerade which is something that August has never had in his life. 

He loved it. 

"What are you giving him?" I asked Mr. Moon.
"We need it!" said my husband. "We're hot and thirsty." 

So. That's what's been going on here. We've read a few books but August has a hard time tearing himself away from Bop. Levon rode the horse.

But now Jessie has come and gone to pick up Levon and I need to get supper ready because I think that August is going to be ready for bed before too long. I'm going to cook some snapper and real grits, the kind that take almost an hour to cook. There will be vegetables, I promise. Meanwhile, the two men are making popcorn to sustain them before the fish is ready. 

FSU is about to play some baseball on the TV and they need that snack to keep their strength up to cheer. 

I guess. 

And tomorrow is Father's Day and today is Jason's birthday and so everyone will be here for a brunch in the morning. Or, as I like to say, a brunch-like activity. Jessie bought a Costco cake and it's out in the refrigerator in the garage. I think this is our new tradition, started last year by Vergil who really wanted one of those giant cakes. There will be watermelon and sausage and bacon (oh god, I know) and pancakes and eggs. And cake. 

Food. I really do talk about it too much. 

Oh well. 

Here's a picture of Jason and Maggie that Lily posted on Facebook. 

Have I told you lately how much I love Jason? 

Well, I do. 

I sure do have some fine men in my family and I sure do appreciate them. 

We'll chat tomorrow, I'm sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Coastal Adventure

Oh, what a place of wonder and magic the Gulf Specimen Lab is!
Honestly, it's pretty funky and there is just about the perfect amount of things to see and touch and be amazed by and then you're done and the kids haven't entirely lost their shit yet and you can figure out where you want to go to lunch.
But it's a very big deal around these parts. When we got there a little before noon, there were two school buses parked out front and the place was packed. We waited a little while before even trying to get into the gift-shop/pay area because it would appear that every child who had been on those buses was buying a souvenir. Finally the groups loaded up and we went in and I bought a year's family pass which got all of us in except for August and Maggie, and of course Levon was free.
When you first walk into the tank areas, there are touch-tanks which the kids and yes, grown-ups too, can reach in and actually hold a sea urchin or a hermit crab or a scallop or a conch of one sort or another.
Let me stop here and tell you something. "Conch" is pronounced "Conk."
Period, the end.
Don't you dare try telling me about some conCH salad you had in the Bahamas. Okay? For some reason this really annoys the fuck out of me.
But, back to the touch tanks. There are also sponges and sea pork and other things that may or may not be animals. I'm sure I should know all about this but I don't. There are big, big tanks with nurse sharks and various fishes in them. And rays and skates and eels. Lots of eels in one tank. Eels are a little scary although they look like beautiful sea-dragons when they swim.

The rays will come right up to the edge and even stick their heads above the water to look at you to see if you have any food for them. They're a friendly critter. 

Levon was not quite sure what to think about all of this. At his age, everything is rather mysterious, I think. 

I loved watching my three little blond babies squatting down to look into tanks to see what wonders they might behold. 

Here's a lion fish. 

They are almost unbearably beautiful and also, they are a horribly invasive species which have taken hold from the Caribbean to Florida to the coast of North Carolina. Those beautiful fins are filled with a neurotoxin and they are way too good at cleaning out the native species. They've become a very big problem in Cozumel and they have tournaments to see who can catch the most of them. They are starting to get a grip on the problem, I think, and although I've never eaten one I hear that if properly handled and prepared, they are delicious. Even knowing all of this, I was somewhat astounded at how graceful and fancy they are. I've never seen one in the water up until today and I am still thinking of how elegant they are, how sensuous in the way they move. 

The octopus may have been my favorite thing there. 

This one is a common brown octopus and we stared at it as it stared back at us. 

"Wow," I almost whispered. "Talk about aliens." 

Even though the marine lab is indeed a small and funky place, I always get a sense of almost spiritual peace there, even with all of the kids running about and using their outdoor voices. Jack and Anne Rudloe, who started the business which led to the place we visited today were absolutely passionate about getting the message out to everyone they could concerning conservation and ecology and the incredible need to maintain the systems of the sea for all of its inhabitants and for all of us as well. Anne, who was not only a scholar but also a Zen Buddhist, died in 2012 but Jack and their children still fight the good fight and educate thousands of children as well as adults. They both wrote for National Geographic and other magazines along with their share of scholarly papers and also beautiful books. I've written about them before. 

I think you can sum up Jack's respect and love for the environment by how he releases sea turtles that have been healed and rehabilitated by the specimen lab. He dresses up in a suit and tie as he wades into the sea to return them to their mother-ocean. 

If that picture doesn't tug at your heart I'm not sure we can be friends. 

All right. A few more pictures. 

My Owen holding a horseshoe crab. Horseshoe crabs were here before the dinosaurs. 

August playing on a giant blue crab. 

Gibson holding up a picture he drew while we were waiting for our delicious North Florida seafood lunch. He is carrying his drawing pad and a pen around with him and this delights me more than I can say. There is no one like Gibson. 

And now Mr. Moon is home and did indeed catch some red snapper. He says that the seas were very rough today- five feet or more- and that no, he did not sleep well last night. Hopefully, he will sleep tonight because we've got August and Levon coming tomorrow to hang out while their parents get ready for their trek up to Asheville for the summer. So it will be lively around here for sure. 

Sometimes I just feel like my life is almost too full with responsibilities and things I need to do and things I feel like I should do and things I know I'm not doing that I should be doing and even my refrigerator is too full- I can't find a thing in it. And my kitchen center island is cluttered and full too, spilling over with tomatoes and eggs and love notes and magazines and I think, "Oh Lord. If this isn't the most ridiculous third-world problem I've ever heard of, I don't know what is."

Feeling insanely grateful and also, perhaps, merely a bit insane. 

Yours truly.

Love...Ms. Moon