That Was Fast But It Was The Best

We are back from our teeny-tiny get-away where we had the very best time. It was what I'd call a perfect trip.
We started out Sunday morning and decided to take the backroad, Highway 90, instead of I-10 and that is just the prettiest road. Before we even got out of Monticello we'd stopped at an estate sale and rambled about in a big old beautiful house that reminded me a lot of our own house and looked at stuff. We didn't buy anything but it was fun. I do have not-a-buyer's remorse about a very large blue rug that was literally threadbare in places but it sparked something in me and the color was gorgeous. The difficult part would have been getting it in the car and it was easy to rationalize not buying it because of the wear and tear in it but the fact that I am still thinking about it is telling.

We drove through pasturelands and past woodsy places, miles and miles of empty beauty, dotted here and there with cows or crops or houses that caught our eyes, some large and stately, some small and humble, all old and still standing, straight and true. There were little towns and smaller villages, all of them with interesting things to look at. We stopped for lunch at a country buffet place and got there right before the church crowd arrived. I swear- everyone in the town of Madison, Florida must have been there for lunch. I feel quite certain that every church was represented. The food was good but the people-watching was better. One little girl at the salad bar was piling cheese on her plate and with no self-judgement at all said, "I love cheese. I could eat the whole world of cheese."
That tickled me. She was skinny as a bone and although I bet that in forty years' time all that cheese is going to show up, for now she is as free and passionate about her love of cheese as she could possibly be.

We rolled into St. Augustine in plenty of time to relax and get ready and so we did. The little motel which has been remade into an Airbnb rental was just swell. I loved it. The room was pretty small and one would not want to have to sling a cat in the bathroom but it was charming.

The bed was comfortable, the AC worked just fine, and if we'd had time we could have made use of the free bikes that came with the room. Helmets included.

Someone has put a lot of time and effort and thought into that place and it shows. I wish them well. 

But we weren't in St. Augustine to hang out at a vintage motel. We were there to celebrate the Williamsons and the love they've shared, not just with each other, but with their entire community for forty years. 

Here's a funny thing- I had almost no anxiety about this celebration at all. I feel so comfortable in St. Augustine with the people I know there. I had seen a great many of them back in March when we went to the big party at Gator Bone but some I had not seen in years. And yet- I felt as welcomed as ever by these beautiful people. As soon as we walked out onto the huge deck under the trees where the stage is I saw three people immediately whom I just love. And it went from there.

There were hugs and hugs and hugs. It felt like joy. So many people were there to celebrate. I know I talk a lot about how beloved Lon and Lis are but it is never hyperbole. These two good people are simply adored.

And you know why? 

Because they are as grace-full and loving and caring as any two people on earth. Because their love for each other is so apparent that it doesn't even need to be seen. It can be felt. Because they have and will go out of their way for anyone in their community and their community is huge. They cherish, they support, they work, they delight. And of course, they entertain. 

They played the first set with the rest of the Gator Bone band- people they've been playing with for decades. Lon had come down with some sort of cold and couldn't sing and Lis was coming down with it too and had a sore throat. I could tell that they were both exhausted but they are professionals and I think they were buoyed by all the love. Glen and I got to sit with Lon's sister and her husband whom we haven't seen in awhile. They are wonderful people too, and actually live in Monticello. We also shared the table with the woman who goes by Lulumarie in the comments here and her man. I always refer to Lulu as "the sweetest woman in the world" because, well, she is. It was so good to get to spend time with them. We enjoyed the music and the breeze and seeing and talking to other old friends and then it was Sam Pacetti's turn to take over the music and he did a beautiful job as he always does and made a little speech about how Lon and Lis had taken him in when he was very young and encouraged him and helped him. Everyone in the place probably had a story they could tell about what these people have meant to them in their lives. Every story true. Every story heartfelt. Every story different and yet, the same in that all of us (oh, yes! I have my stories too!) have felt loved by them, often when we needed it most. 

When Lon's sister's husband got up to make a toast he asked for a show of hands of all of the people who'd been at Lon and Lis's wedding forty years ago that very day. I was amazed at the number of people who raised their hands. And then someone pointed out to me that the wedding had been in Tallahassee which is where they'd lived at the time and this made it even more remarkable. 

There was a photo album of the wedding day pictures and I looked at them and was astounded at what children they were when they married. I mean, they weren't really but in a way, they were. 

Here's one of my favorite pictures from the album. 

And here's what they looked like yesterday, forty years later with their son, Walker. 

No longer children, even their child a grown man, but still beautiful, still in love, still together almost every minute of every day. 

Oh, sigh...

There was champagne, there was cake. There was music and there was catching-up. There was dinner and there was laughter and there was the deep appreciation of life and of love that only people of a certain age can feel. 

When it came time for me to say good-bye to the anniversary couple, it felt, as it always does when we part, as if I was leaving part of myself behind with them. 

My heart part, I suppose. 

I admonished them to get some rest, goddammit! Those two people don't even know what rest looks like but I think that in this instance, they might at least attempt to try. 

By the time Mr. Moon and I got back to the Florida Motel we were exhausted and happy and full and I, for one, was tipsy. I will not deny it. We watched a little TV and Mr. Moon had some cake that we'd brought back and then we cut off the lights and fell asleep and didn't wake up until after eight this morning. 

And then, as a truly lovely lagniappe, Lulumarie and her fella met us for breakfast at a darling diner where we ate breakfasts fit for kings and chatted and laughed and bemoaned the state of the union. It was really fun and I was glad of the chance to actually get to talk to John because although we've known each other for a long time, we've never really had what you'd call a conversation. 

But today we did and I discovered that he is as nice as his lady and as sincere and caring as she is. If that's possible. 

I'm not sure. But it might be. 

And so that was our trip. We drove back along Highway 90 again and even stopped at the same buffet restaurant for our very late lunch. We ate lima beans and black-eyed peas and green beans and fried okra and real, true creamed corn and other delicious foods and then finished our drive through the green fields and forests. 

When we got home, Mr. Moon had to go into the office for a little while and I unpacked and started some laundry and picked the garden. The green beans are really coming in and I have an insane amount of tomatoes, both regular and cherry sized. The cucumbers are doing okay although I don't seem to be getting them until they've overgrown themselves and turned yellow. The field peas are continuing to yield and the pinto beans are coming up. The corn is swelling in its husks. 

But it's hot. And it's so buggy. And it's SO humid. And we may be getting a tropical storm at the end of the week because a low pressure area in Georgia is moving down to the Gulf and then it's going to gather its forces and turn back to land as a storm. 

Probably. 

This is almost an unheard of event. 

I've certainly never seen it in my lifetime. Storms ALWAYS originate out in either the Gulf or the Atlantic. 

But here we are and there is no longer any "normal" to be found. 

I think I'm going to make us a sort of caprese salad for our supper. We certainly don't need much and maybe I can use up a few of those tomatoes. I still have a bit of arugula and some very fine basil and a little bit of mozzarella. Not a whole world's worth of cheese, but enough for us tonight. 

Last night so many people said to me, "I'm so glad you came." 

And to every one of them I said, "How could we not have come?"

And you know, it wasn't just that I was glad I was there. It was that I was thrilled to be there. 

I was absolutely thrilled to join in with so many lovely people to celebrate two of the most beautiful people I've ever known. I can't tell you how fortunate I feel to know them. To have them in my life. I wish I'd been at their wedding but we didn't know each other yet. 

Time was waiting. 

And I know them now. And how lucky I am. 

Yes. A teeny-tiny trip but huge in meaning and in delight and oh! I finished, finally, reading Duane's Depressed out loud to my own beloved husband. 

I cried at the end. 

It was all perfect. 

Love...Ms. Moon

My Garden Is Happy

It's rained all day but instead of that pleasing and soothing me, it's made me blue and agitated. I was fine for awhile. I made up a pot of the New York Times black bean soup recipe that I love so and they've been simmering all day and I sewed the zipper back in Lily's couch cushion but then I had to drive to town and I hate driving in the rain. It used to be that it only really bothered me at night but now it appears that I'm wussified during the day as well.
The first real experience I ever had with anxiety happened while driving at night in the rain. The details are unimportant but I was following a friend who was driving like a bat out of hell, passing semi's left and right on the interstate and there was a blinding rain and I suddenly realized that truly, I was going to pass out. This was pre-cellphone so I couldn't call him and say, "Listen, I have to pull over," but I did have to pull over.
He managed to realize I wasn't following him and exited and came back and found me but it was a horrible, terrifying experience and that was the beginning of my relationship with anxiety- a relationship that has shaped my life and not in a good way.
I get chills just thinking about it.

I didn't really get crazy anxious today. I was driving on roads I could probably drive with my eyes shut and it wasn't raining so hard that I couldn't see but still, I felt a little on the whack side.
If you know what I mean.

My errand involved a plant nursery and if you've ever shopped at a plant nursery in the rain, you know it's not ideal. I did find an umbrella in my car and considered myself lucky. I made my purchase and drove back home but it wasn't much fun and I laid down and slept for awhile to recover but that didn't work entirely well and now I'm wondering if maybe I'm getting what Lily has which is some sort of upper respiratory thing and looks and sounds horrible. I just don't feel right.

But. Tomorrow we are traveling to St. Augustine, one of my favorite cities in the world, to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of Lon and Lis who, coincidentally are two of my favorite people in the world. So I can't be sick because forty years is truly something and the way I love those two people is truly something and plans have been made and that is that. It's just going to be a quick trip. Over tomorrow, come back on Monday. The celebration is going to be held at a restaurant where Lon and Lis have had a regular Sunday evening gig forever. They'll play one set and then friends will take over the stage and folks will gather and dine and toast the beautiful couple.
Sounds lovely, doesn't it?
And it's all outside on the Matanzas River which makes it even better.
I got us a room via Airbnb in a restored "vintage" motel which makes me laugh. It'll be fun. I know it will be. I always have a good time in St. Aug. When the Williamsons lived there in a gorgeous old house that they'd restored, I used to visit them a LOT.
Oh, the fun we had! I look back on those days and can hardly believe that I was the same person.
I guess that actually and in reality, I'm not.
For example- Lis and I used to love to shop. Can you believe that? Of course St. Augustine is filled with great places to shop from the outlet mall to the oldest family-owned places and we enjoyed them all. I remember one place we used to love to treasure hunt in which was owned by a Cuban lady who made all the clothes in her little hole-in-the-wall place and she used the most gorgeous fabrics. Silk velvet, especially. I still have a skirt I bought from her. She loved and adored Lis.
Of course, everyone did.
And everyone still does.
There are going to be a LOT of people at that restaurant tomorrow night.

So. We'll be heading off to an adventure. Our next trip will be to North Carolina to see the Weatherfords. I talked to Jessie today and asked her if August still remembers my name. She assured me that he does. Here's a picture she took yesterday and sent to me.

See the rainbow? 

Levon still has his fa-fa and I find that so sweetly heart-tugging. Any kid can have a security blanket or a stuffed animal that they tote around but Levon Cobb Weatherford has security shovels. 

He's the son of an engineer daddy. 

I just went and tasted the black beans. 

Oh. My. God. 

So, so good. 

I guess I better go make something to go with them. I'm tempted to make a pan of cornbread and call it done but I suppose a vegetable or two would not be a bad idea.

Whatever. 

If I don't post tomorrow it's because I'm having too much fun. 

That's the plan, anyway. 

So don't worry. I'll still be alive. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And Now We Must Praise The Victors Of That Long Ago Battle Of Laguardia

Today has been a better day. I mean- how could it not be? Trump actually cited how the Revolutionary War heroes took control of the airports in his speech yesterday! Sometimes you just have to laugh. If he wasn't such a danger to us and to the planet, he'd be nothing more than a figure of ridiculousness but of course along with his knows-no-depths ignorance there is also his cruelty and narcissism.
And yeah, the whole power thing.
BUT, we survived the 4th and it was sort of like dragging ass through a birthday that one is not so happy about or any other holiday that is given such importance when really, it's just a day and we can choose to celebrate or not, stay in bed or not, ignore or not.
It was hard to ignore the sonic booms of the fireworks (definitely not legal in Florida) that a neighbor set off for about an hour last night. I mean really. How RUDE! It reminded me of the guy at the river with his music refusing to believe that everyone there wasn't just delighted to hear Toby Keith sing about whatever Toby Keith sings about.
Shit-kickin', I guess.
But I got up today and went for my walk and once again did not die which is always a good beginning to a day. I washed sheets and hung them on the line and did another load of clothes and hung them on the line and finally around two I got out of the house and went to town where I did a much-needed shopping. I've been living out of the garden and the freezer for awhile and that is wonderful and there's nothing at all wrong with it but sadly I do not grow wheat or sugar or coffee or sesame oil or, well, a whole bunch of stuff that cooks need. So I went to Publix and did a huge shopping, zipping through my carefully constructed list and then I went to Costco and got a few things there that I needed. I ran by Lily's on my way home to deliver a few things and also to pick up a couch cushion cover whose zipper had come unsewn in the wash and I think I can fix it easily. I got to kiss my babies and asked Gibson and Maggie where their grandfather's flashlight might possibly be. It's been lost since they were here playing with it.
"Hey, y'all," I said to them. "Do you remember when you were at my house and playing find each other with Boppy's flashlight? Do you have any idea where it might be now? We can't find it."
Gibson looked at me and said, "I think Maggie had it last," which is exactly what I knew he'd say, having been a child once myself. And then he said, "And that game we were playing is called Hide and Seek."
Oh, to be educated by a seven-year old.
Maggie had no idea where the flashlight might be and I suppose it will appear at some point.

Came home and unloaded bags and bags of groceries and put everything away and had my afternoon espresso shot on ice and brought in the clothes and sheets and made up the bed and now Mr. Moon has just pulled into the yard after fishing all day.
I do not know how he does it. He gets up at four o'clock, drives to the coast, fishes all day long which is a physically demanding thing to do on a boat on the Gulf, helps clean the boat and the fish and then drives home. But he loves it. He loves it and he is still able to do it and until the day he can't anymore I will cheerfully encourage him to be out on that water. My husband is of Norwegian and Swedish descent and I have long recognized the Viking in him when he is on the water. It's where he feels most comfortable. It's where he's happiest.
Well, except for maybe in the woods in a deer stand watching the animals come and go, the sun rise, and the backs of his eyelids.
I've said it before and I'll say it again- it was certainly never in my plans to marry a HUNTER but I fell in love with one and there you go.
Of course my first real, true crush was Johnny Weissmuller's Tarzan and I suppose I've been carrying around that image of Tarzan bringing Jane home an ostrich egg for her to cook my entire life. I'm just a girl who likes a man who can bring home the breakfast. Literally.
And of course wrassle alligators and protect his woman from lions and bad men and speak fluent Elephant. Or at least the modern-day equivalent.

Okay. I have a question to ask. Have any of y'all ordered anything from one of those companies advertised on Facebook that sell dresses? Maybe you don't get those ads but I do. And I don't recognize any of the names and I feel certain they're all Chinese but the dresses look so pretty.

And they're cheap. 

So cheap that I am doubtful about the quality of them, to say the least. Are these companies that have just cut out the middleman of American business and sell directly from their factories? I don't know. Do I dare trust my credit card information with these people? Will I go to hell if I do business with them? 

So- any of you know anything about them? 

I can't seem to find much online which is probably not a good sign. 

It's still hot here. Brutally so. Not as bad as yesterday, I think, perhaps by a few degrees. Again, it's thundering to the east of us but the radar makes it look like we might get skipped entirely, only teased by the false promise of relief. 

In chicken news I saw some of the young birds playing at cockfighting today. 

I am not kidding you. And to tell you the truth, they didn't look like they were really playing at all. More like practicing. 

Dammit! Here we go into rooster overload again. 

I read a beautiful review of Wednesday night's Rolling Stones concert in Washington DC in the Washington Post and I'd link it but I've already read all of my free articles this month and they won't let me see it again, the bastards. 

Okay. I'm cheap. They're not really bastards. 

It was about how the Stones aren't just resting on their old laurels or phoning it in on this tour. They are a band, playing as well or better than they've ever played. As if they were playing for their lives. Dammit, I wish I could quote some of it. 

I better go make supper for that tired, tired man. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Don't Even Know

Rachel and Hank invited me to eat lunch with them in Monticello and I took them up on the offer. I haven't felt like doing a damn thing today. It's too hot and I'm fucking depressed. Hank and Rachel didn't want to discuss the travesty of a military parade in Washington or anything else political so we talked about movies and stuff.
That was fine.
I realize that I'm obsessed and it does no good. Dax Shepherd said something on one of his podcasts about how his wife wakes up every morning and starts pressing the lever of news for that hit of monkey coke because she's addicted to the horror of everyday's newest events in Washington.
I recognized myself in that.
Why do I feel as if every fucking thing that Trump does is something that I need to pay attention to? To bear witness to? To rage about, scream about, be horrified about?
None of this does any good at all and it's not good for my health and I know it.
I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT ANY OF IT!
Well, I can call my reps, I can send money to groups that ARE trying to do something about it. And of course- I can vote.
But there's something in me that wants to examine each and every new atrocity and pick at it until it bleeds or runs with pus. Perhaps so that I can share this all with my fellow sufferers, so that we can compare the nasty wounds that are being created by each day's events.
I don't know.
I do know, however, that I sure don't feel like celebrating any damn fourth of July. Not that I ever really do but this year more (less?) than ever.
I've noticed that my across-the-street neighbor who generally flies the flag for every patriotic holiday is not flying it today. He may be patriotic but he's also intelligent, educated, and as left-leaning as anyone can be.

We're getting the tiniest of rains. Just enough to make the air smell of ozone, to make the gentlest sound of water slapping the ground as it rolls off the roof overhang. There was an earthquake in California. There is a heat wave in Alaska. India is becoming too hot for human habitation.
It was 104 degrees today when I got in my car after being in the restaurant. It cooled down to 98 when I got rolling but still.
One hundred and four degrees.

I've got to stop poking at these wounds. I've got to just live my life in the very best way that I can, treating everyone with respect and doing what I can to cut down on carbon in the atmosphere.
I've got to stop letting Donald Trump dictate my mental health, my wellbeing.
I remember the morning after he got elected and I sobbed and sobbed, as so many of us did.
We knew. We knew, we knew, we knew.
We didn't know.
We had no idea how bad it would get.
Well. Here we are.

This picture sums it up and makes me as fearful for my country as anything I've ever seen except for perhaps the pictures of children in cages wearing aluminum foil blankets.

Ellen Abbott posted it on Facebook today. 

There you go. 

We finished watching the film Rolling Thunder Revue last night and you know what killed me about it? The fact that we had a moment. We, the people, specifically but not exclusively, the young people had a moment wherein we thought that we could actually change the world. 

Hell. We even had Bob Dylan and Joan Baez. 

Guess what? 

We didn't. 

And that is one of the reasons I am so fucking depressed today and is also one of the reasons I need to let some of this shit go. People are going to do what people do and the way it's going, the planet's going to go up in flames anyway. 

I'm making another tomato pie. Mayonnaise and all. 

Oh, Trump, you're killing me. 

Be safe, y'all. Hang tough. Things ARE going to change. They always do. Hopefully, we'll have time to save ourselves, to repair, to fix, to energize, to feel joy once again. 

Let's not let that man put us in early graves. Let us live long enough to see justice. 

Believe in freedom. 

Peace. 

Love. 

You know. All the good. 

We have to try, at least. 

Ms. Moon 

No Title

In the name of honesty and of truth I will admit to you that I am so tired. 

So is the grandfather. 

We're just not as snappy as we were even a few years ago. 

I thought that last night was going to kill us. By the time bath time rolled around and we'd put in a very full day already and there was still the kitchen to clean up and Gibson and Maggie to bathe, put in pajamas, read to, get in bed, and then hopefully coaxed into relaxing enough to sleep we were overwhelmed. 

I did not have the ingredients for purple cows so I put them in the bathtub and gave them each a cherry popsicle. This seemed perfect to me. They could relax in the warm water and eat their frozen confections and not have to worry about the inevitable drips. It worked out very well.  

"Have you ever eaten a popsicle in the bathtub?" I asked them. 

They looked at me as if perhaps I'd lost my mind but, whatever, and they ate their popsicles. 

Okay. Here's something that Gibson said last night at supper that cracked me up so hard. 

"When I grow up, I'm going to live in London!" 

He made this announcement the way Gibson makes all of his announcements which is to say as if there would be no doubt as to the veracity and seriousness of his words. 

"Why do you want to live in London?" I asked him. 

"So I can listen to Big Ben!" he said. 

He was being completely serious. 

When he heard that his Boppy had lived in London for about six weeks once he was thrilled. 

"Did you hear Big Ben?" he asked, astonished. Hear, not see, mind you. 

"I did," said his Boppy. 

Gibson was blown away. I told him about our friend Steve Reed who lives in London. This, too, astonished him. His dream was possible! 

I think he's recently seen Mary Poppins which may have been the impetus for this life goal. 

Whatever, I would not be surprised at all to see him move to London some day. Gibson will find a way. 

He is reading very, very well. He read Professor Wormbog to me last night and today he read me Corduroy, one of his favorite books. There's no stumbling or hesitation. I'm a bit amazed. 

Maggie "read" Five Little Monkeys to us last night. There is nothing that her brothers do that she cannot do, at least in her mind. The girl knows that story backwards and forwards. I was proud of them both. 

I got Gibson tucked into the bed in the guest room with his water and a fan because he says that he always "overheats" at night. 

Hmmmm...

He also needed a light and I left one on and I promised I'd come and check on him in a little while. I did and he was fast asleep. I pulled the sheet off of his head and kissed him and put the sheet back over his head and when he asked me this morning if I had indeed checked on him, I told him that yes, I had and it was the truth. 

Maggie did not want to get in her bed at all. 

"I want to cuddle you, Mer!" 

"Not now, Maggie," I told her, being cruel and heartless out of sheer exhaustion. "It's time to get in bed. I love you." 

And I kissed her and gave her her sleeping companions- the lamb and the big bear and by golly, she fell asleep too. 

She woke up around one, crying, calling my name and she said she had to go pee so I got up and tried to shake my old creaky body awake enough to take her to the bathroom and we did that and then she begged me to lay down with her and so I did but after a little time had passed I told her that there just was not room on that little bed for me and I got up and she said, "I want my mommy. I want to go home," and I said, "Well, I'm sorry, you can't. Go back to sleep."

And she did. 

Both children were awake by eight this morning and so I got up and gave them each a little glass of smoothie left over from the one their grandfather had blended up this morning (I make it the night before and he whirls it before he goes to the gym) while I had some coffee and went from Stage Zero (dead asleep) to Stage Three (barely functional) and then I made them some pancakes and the day had begun. 

After breakfast Maggie helped me with the chickens and gave them their scratch and then we went to visit the goats next door. 

In case you're wondering- she was carrying books in that suitcase. The goats did come over finally and we fed them some leaves. She kept calling them donkeys. I would correct her and say, "Honey, they're goats," and eventually she just called them "animalys" which was fine. 

We had a tea party a little later on. 

We played matching game and both Gibson and Maggie played with themselves with toys and they also played a rousing game of tag and oh, god- I wonder where they left the flashlight. I meant to ask them that before they left. Whoever was "it" got to use it. 

Lily sent me this picture. 

Her happy big boy with his new hoodie. I showed the picture to Gibson and asked, "Have you missed your brother?" 

"Yes," he said. "I even cried a little last night in bed."

I'm pretty sure that this is not even remotely true but it does sound good. 

When I knew that Lily was getting close to picking up her younger two on her way home I told them that they were going to have to help me clean up all of the toys. Maggie completely ignored me but look what Gibson did-

He cleaned up the entire Glen Den in a matter of minutes and when I tell you that the thought of simply picking up all of the Lincoln Logs made me want to weep, I am not kidding. I was SO proud of him and he was, as you can see, quite proud of himself. 

He is the sweetest boy and honestly, Maggie is a cupcake herself. She tells me out of the blue at least once an hour, "I love you, Mer!" and comes and hugs me. She is just so dang beautiful with that curly hair and those intense brown eyes. She is completely at home in her own body and spent a good part of the day naked except for perhaps a hat. 

When Lily got here, Gibson and Maggie ran outside to hug Owen and when he hugged Maggie he said, "I love you!" and she knows that. She knows without a doubt that she is loved. As do all three of those kids. 

Owen hugged me too and thanked me for the card I'd sent him and said it was awesome. I'm glad he got it. 

After they drove away I did a little more tidying and then I went and laid on my bed and read some and then I put the book down and closed my eyes and I was gone into sleep. 

It is horrible hot and hideously humid and tomorrow is the 4th of July. The Dick-tater is getting his show of military force parade in our nation's capitol, making a joke of what the holiday is all about. Not that he understands that. 

Not that he cares. 

Meanwhile- well- you know. 

Kids are still in cages. 

I won't be wearing red white and blue tomorrow, I can assure you. Nor will I be making a 4th of July cake with strawberries and blueberries arranged as the flag. Or grilling out or going to the beach (oh god- can you imagine the number of people who will be there?) or even the river (same-same). I'll just be here in Lloyd, hoping that a mighty storm obliterates all traces of Trump's homage to himself and that all of the people who bought tickets to that ridiculous and horrifying event are drenched with rain and traumatized by the thunder and lightening. 

And I'm absolutely not ashamed to say that either. 

Y'all all be safe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pictures!

Ah. Century Link guy has come and gone and we have a new modem and a new box on the outside of the house and hey! Look! I can post pictures. That's the one I took at the river yesterday. Look at that clear beautiful water.

I've been busy all day long. I finally got Maggie's dress finished and now she's here and wearing it.

She's such a busy girl. She and Gibson are both what I call "project babies" because they can create their own little worlds with a few toys and they like to get things organized and tidy. 

At least sometimes. 

They brought us presents. Two wooden butterflies that they had colored. Quite lovely. And Gibson wrote me a note. 

Can you read it? It says, "To mermer from Gibson. Love me more than Owen."

Ooh boy. 

Have I been giving Owen more attention than I give him or does he just want my full-on love while Owen's still at camp? Who knows? Bless his sweet heart, though. 

I just walked through the hallway and Maggie was having a conversation on the old plug-in phone that the kids play with and that we use when the electricity goes out. 

"I on the phone," Mer," she said. And then, into the phone she said, "Yeah, that's my MerMer," and she already has the teenager bored voice down pat. 

She keeps telling me, "I gonna sleep with you, Mer!" and I'm like, "Well, you're going to sleep right beside me on your own little bed."

She has agreed to this but we shall see how that works out. 

I know I'm already tired. It's hot, still, again, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be. Heat without end. Amen. Amen. 

The Florida weather doxology. 

I walked. I hung clothes. I made a dress. I've got supper started, stage one. 

All of the devices that hook up to the internet have been given their new passwords. Everything is working fine. We found six eggs today. Maggie is looking at the banana spider in her web right outside the back porch. "She got eyes?" 

"Yes. She has eyes."

And so it goes this second day of July, 2019. Tomorrow Owen will get home from camp. And other stuff will most likely happen too. 

Even here in Lloyd. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Life In The Slow Lane

I should be in the best mood ever if suffering and accomplishing mundane tasks really are what make me happy which I am pretty sure they do. 

I took a walk. Not a very long one but I've learned my lesson about that in this heat and oh god, it is so hot. It's still hot- over 90 degrees and it's almost seven o'clock in the evening. But after the walk I met Lily and Gibson and Maggie at the river and it was so beautiful there today. Also, exciting because someone had spied a small gator out by the lily pads and then later on, a snake was seen over by the dock and there was a guy there who truly did not look like the usual Jefferson County, Wacissa visitor in his dress or his demeanor and when the snake was seen and reported he asked, "Is this normal?"
"Hmmm..." we said.
"Sort of."
We all know that there are always alligators in the rivers and lakes and sometimes even swimming pools around here but if we can't see them we can ignore them and generally, that works out just fine. As to the snakes- well, I'd never seen a snake there but I know without a doubt that there are plenty.

Oh Lord I'm hot. I haven't been cool all day except for the moments I dove into the river and then maybe for a little while after. The AC can't keep up with the heat and although it is vastly cooler in the house than it is outside, it's not exactly ideal.
Third world, boutique, bullshit problem.
And I know it.

I didn't stay at the river very long. I knew I had a lot of things to do here and so I came home and the first thing I did was to call Century Link. At first I thought maybe I'd gotten the rudest technician in the entire world. I gave her my explanation of the problem and then she asked me for my account number.
"I don't have it," I said.
"Why not?" she asked.
What the fucking fuck? Really? Why not? 
Because I'm a normal person who doesn't keep her phone bill records around, that's why.
Finally she grudgingly accepted that I was legitimate because I gave her the phone number, which I was speaking on, and Mr. Moon's name as the account holder.
She then deigned to do some of that voodoo shit where they can tell the speed of your own personal modem from wherever they are in the universe and after that she was a much more polite person because YES GODDAMMIT I WAS RIGHT AND IT IS SLOW, SLOW, SLOW!
So. I was not a lying impostor trying to get someone to pay attention to my mythical phone line with its mythical problem for whatever bizarre nefarious reason someone might do that.
She tried to do some more voodoo and fix the problem from where she was (how is this possible?) and she couldn't do that so someone's coming tomorrow to hopefully fix the problem in real life and in real time and in reality or at least what passes for reality by popular agreement. Possibly only popular agreement between me and me but that's getting a little too philosophical or quantum physics-ish for anyone.
We ended on a cordial note although she did not follow the script and did not apologize fifteen times for my inconvenience and she also did not ask me at the end of the call if there was anything else she could help me with today which always makes me want to say, "Sure! Come on over and clean my house because boy, it sure does need it!"
I bet a lot of people say shit like that and I bet it's not that funny to the phone techs. Still, it is tempting. They leave themselves wide open with that one.

And then, instead of going and taking a good long nap with the fan blowing directly on me which is what I felt like doing, I ironed a bunch of shirts and finished watching Tales in the City which led to me dropping tears on the shirts as I ironed and I'm not kidding. And then I started watching the Martin Scorsese  fake documentary film about Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder Review because I'd watched all of the Tales in the City episodes but I hadn't finished ironing all the shirts.
I just don't even know what to think about this film.
I know that there is definitely real footage in it and I also know that some of the narrative is complete whimsical bullshit and that makes it a bit difficult to know what's real and what's not which, I suppose, is so Dylan.
I will say that he sure was beautiful back in his younger years. I'll watch the entire thing because that's part of my history and it's fascinating on the real level for me, at least.
Back to reality, aren't we?

And then, and THEN, I made the eggplant parmesan which took me about an hour and a half to get from the raw eggplant and tomato stage to the finished product in a casserole dish ready to go into the oven. It and a loaf of bread I also made are both in the oven already because I think my husband's going to leave me if I don't start serving his supper before 9 p.m.
Not really. He'd never leave me for that. I don't think.
I wonder what he would leave me for? I know I've tested his love consistently since November of 1983 and he's still here.
I am a pretty good cook though. That may explain some of it.
And I love him and he knows it.

So there you go- a mundane report about a mundane day from a mundane woman leading a mundane life.
I have a beautiful and completely NOT mundane picture that I took at the river today but despite my best efforts, I can't get it to upload here.
I sure hope that the guy who's coming tomorrow to fix this problem knows what he's doing.

I have to say that those guys usually do.

I remain optimistic despite all. Well. Sort of. Check in tomorrow to see if my optimism is unfounded or founded. Is that a word? Founded? I have no idea.

Love...Ms. Moon

Not A Bad Sunday

Now that's an eggplant. I may have let it go a day or two further on the vine than I should have but it's glorious, isn't it? Not sure what I'm going to do with it yet. Eggplant Parmesan, most likely. I certainly have plenty of cherry tomatoes I can incorporate into the dish. We definitely planted way too many of those this year. Not sure what we were thinking.

I spent a lot of time in the garden today, weeding mostly. One minute I look at the garden and think, "Oh Jeez. Why did I even bother?" and the next minute I'm thinking, "This is so pretty."
The corn is swelling in its shucks and I'm about to get more field peas and the tomatoes are still coming along and the rattlesnake beans are starting to make pods and I'm still getting a few cucumbers although I am vastly disappointed in those. I really, really wanted to have a pickling summer and it just doesn't look like that's going to happen.
But honestly, I enjoyed myself, kneeling in the dirt and sweating so much that I'm surprised I have a drop of moisture left in my body, listening to an audiobook. The book I was listening to, I Am, I Am, I Am, by Maggie O'Ferrell was fascinating and the writing was beautiful. Phrase after phrase caused me to pause in my head and turn over the words I'd just heard like you would an unusual or especially striking rock picked up on a path or in a river.

Really gorgeous. I do recommend it. 

But back to the garden- I worked until I just couldn't do it anymore. You might say I came to a stopping place when I suddenly started getting ant bit AND stung by some noxious weed I must have been pulling. I was melting anyway and needed to come inside where I drank about a gallon of water and took a shower. I was so dirty that it may take another shower or two to truly be clean but at least the topsoil has been removed from my body. 

Another thing I did today was to finally pull the trigger on a place to stay in North Carolina. Phew! That's always so stressful. I've had almost nothing but very positive experiences with Airbnb but there's still always the worry that you'll make that commitment, pay that money, and then find yourself in a most unsuitable situation and IT'LL BE ALL YOUR FAULT! Or mine, as it were, in this case. I showed it to Mr. Moon before I hit "reserve" though and he agreed that it looks fine. No TV but there's a king-sized bed and it's a pretty little cabin and they warn about possible dangerous animals like bears and coyotes so you know we'll be happy. And feel right at home. I can't wait to see the Weatherfords again. I'm already at the point where I'm texting Jessie things like, "Is Levon still carrying his shovels around?" 

I mean- I need to KNOW! 

And every time I walk past the pile of August's favorite books on the dresser in my room I get sad. I want to read my little boys some books! Magnolia and Gibson will be spending the night here on Tuesday but they don't like listening to books as much as August and Levon. I imagine that I'll be able to read The Little Red Hen Makes A Pizza to them. At least. It's a rare occurrence that any of my grands turn down that book. 

So guess what I'm going to do tomorrow? I am going to call Century Link once again and if they don't have any answers, I'm going to ask to speak to whoever is in charge. Yeah. Like of the whole company. 

Well, of course that's not going to happen but I'm going to get some answers or know the reason why. 

That makes no sense, does it?

We were talking to a friend who lives nearby who is a Luddite and has no cell phone, no computer, nothing but a landline. He's been having multiple problems with his phone service and he needs that phone as he has quite a few medical problems. He said he talked to them last week and told them that he's certain that they have a lot of really smart people who work for them, technical engineers and so forth, and that what they need to do is to remove them from their skyscraper and put them on a plane and send them to TALLAHASSEE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS SHIT BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THE PEOPLE THEY HAVE WORKING HERE DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING!

I thought that was wise and appropriate advice. 

And I think that Mr. Moon has acquired the phone number of some upper level Century Link person and he's going to call that individual tomorrow too. 

I'm just certain that we'll get this all straightened out (oh sure) and all will be well again. Meanwhile, it took me over an hour to download a new audiobook and I'm not kidding. It really is like having dial-up again without the screeching noise. 

I guess that's about all I have to say this evening. Except that I would really like to make it a rule that anyone writing about the Rolling Stones being on tour is no longer allowed to speculate on whether or not this will be their last tour. Okay? They've been doing that since about 1968 and obviously, they're never going to stop touring until one of them dies at which point we'll be aware of the situation. 

I will also add that I sincerely doubt that any of them will die before I do and that is fine with me. As I said so many, many years ago here, back even before I had read Keith Richards' memoir Life, that one of the main miracles of the Church of the Batshit Crazy is that he was still alive and playing music. 

And it still is although I now realize that the miracle is in him being alive, not the music playing because as long as he draws breath and can hold a guitar he'll be playing music. And conversely, as long as he can play music he'll probably be alive. 

Okay. I'll shut up now. Mr. Moon worked outside all day too and we need to eat our supper and get to bed because we're old. Not like fine wine old or Rolling Stones old or pyramids old or any of those types of old but in the way of Lord, I feel old and can't wait to go lay down old. 

I am not ashamed of that in the least and why should I be? 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy Birthday, My Love. Happy Birthday

I guess this just about says all that needs saying. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Small Things Of Life In The Midst Of It All

Thank you for joining us for our regularly scheduled program and if you missed it, I posted earlier today wherein I gave a vague recipe for tomato pie.
In case you're interested.

As per usual these days, pictures are not making their way from my phone to my laptop and I have a great picture which would explain all if only I could post it. I am going to give it some time and see if it and the others I have sent arrive before midnight.

Picture arrived! Here it is.

I suppose we're lucky to have internet at all. 

I had a very laid-back day today. I have felt much better and am grateful. I did usual things like washing the bedding and hanging it on the line. I talked to Jessie and to August. The first thing he said to me was, "When are you coming to visit?"
Of course I teared up. I do so miss him and his brother.
But the upshot is that Mr. Moon and I have indeed planned our jaunt to North Carolina and we'll be heading up there at the end of July. We're going to stay in an AirBnB for a few days and then we'll move to Vergil's grandma's house where hopefully, other family members from Tallahassee will be joining us. The house is now owned by family as and is rented out usually, but there is a week where it's available and it's a beautiful house and I am looking forward to staying there. It feels good to get that plan made.
Jessie told me that the house where she and Vergil and the boys are staying has a tractor in the front yard and sent me this picture.

I think they're in heaven. 

I went to Publix and shopped for a few things I needed. I came home and got the sheets off the line and made up the bed. I took an old feather pillow of Mr. Moon's and sewed it into a pillowcase because there was a hole in the pillow and the fabric was so rotten that it could not be patched. I think I've got the situation under control now and Mr. Moon will have his pillow back, beloved dust mites and all. 

Lily reported that Owen was delivered safely to camp. She posted this picture on Facebook so it's available for me to post here.

He looks happy and at ease about it all. I wrote him a card and sent it today and hopefully he'll get it before he leaves next week. This being Lloyd, that may or may not happen. I'm so proud of my big boy. 

Mr. Moon's birthday is tomorrow and I have started making a dessert that he loves. The recipe came from a cookbook that his former mother-in-law wrote and self-published and I only base my version loosely on it, to say the least. 

The recipe calls for things like margarine, Cool Whip, and instant chocolate pudding. I of course whip my own cream, use butter, and make my own damn chocolate pudding. Although to be honest I will admit that I would not turn down a bowl of Jello chocolate pudding. Even instant. I sort of love that shit. 

As I recall. 

Here's what my pudding looks like though. 

So. I have the crust or first layer done and now the pudding and tomorrow I'll whip that cream and get it all put together. I've probably related this story before but I'll tell it again- I have told my children that if I die before their dad does and if he falls in love with another woman they have my permission to show her this recipe so that if she wants to, she can make it. However, they should not tell her how I make it unless they really like her. Otherwise- just let her use the Cool Whip.
If this ever does happen, I doubt my husband will even notice but that won't be any business of mine at that point because I'll be dead.
One must be pragmatic about these things.

Here's the last picture.

Darla and her five children underneath the passion flower vine. 

I can't even bring myself to discuss the heat wave in Europe and how the temperatures are soaring to record-breaking levels. I am so scared that we have completely fucked ourselves and I fear for my grandchildren with what can only be described as terror. And yet, here I am, running my air conditioning, planning a trip in a gas-powered vehicle (well, it's a Prius but it still uses gas), thinking that I can't possibly live without my made-in-China phone that probably sucked more resources in its making and transporting than a Chinese child ever will. Our president (okay, not yours or mine) is in Europe right now but I doubt he'll break a sweat as he won't be exposed to the heat for a minute. He's being all wink-wink-ha-ha with Putin. 

"Oh, sweet P! Please do not meddle with our elections. Okay? Thank you. Here's a big old kiss on your ass and let me know if you need me to, oh, you know- get on my knees in front of you for anything. Wouldn't that be a pretty sight?"

I do believe I'm going to fry some green tomatoes this evening. Sure, the planet's on fire but until it actually explodes I suppose I'll just do like most of the rest of us and continue on with my incredibly privileged, sheltered, entitled life, going where I want, using what I want, eating what I want (at least I grew the tomatoes) and bitching about any inconsequential thing that might annoy me. 

Tra-la! 

Anyway, happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

Extra Bonus Post!

Okay. Tomato pie. If you google "Tomato Pie, recipe" you'll get a lot of hits. And they can range from the fancy gourmet end of the spectrum to the simplest.
The pie I made this week was far more on the simple side. When you're dealing with the freshest and best tomatoes I don't think you need to fool around with them too much. In fact, the less fooling around with the better. Also? There's no way around it- this is not health food and although you could figure out some ways to make it less lethal, you'd just be making it less delicious so accept the fact that this is not something you need to make and/or eat on a regular basis. In fact, it should almost be ceremonial in my opinion, and only made when the very best tomatoes are right there, staring you in the face saying, "Eat me!"

So. Here's how I made it.
I made a pie shell and prebaked it to the point where it was done-ish but not browned. No. I do not have exact instructions for this. If you have a pie crust recipe you love, use it. If you don't want to make your pie crust by hand, buy one at the store. The better the crust the better the pie but store-bought is not always inferior to homemade.
As some of us who are not pie pros know.

I sliced my tomatoes about a quarter of an inch thick. Or so. They shouldn't be too thick or too thin.
That's helpful, right?
I set the slices on layers of paper towels and salted them and let them drain. I covered them with some more layers of paper towels (you could do this with clean dish towels, too) and pressed very gently. I didn't want to squeeze them, just relieve them of some of their excess juices.

I sliced a sweet onion into as thin a slices as I could and separated the rings. I was not obsessive about this. I did not cook them before I used them in the pie. I also sliced a few leeks from my garden but they are quite small and scallions would be just as good. And I chopped up some fresh basil. Like- a small handful. You could use more!

I layered the tomato slices, the onions, the leeks, and the basil and gave a little more salt to each layer and peppered generously. There were two layers, I think. Doesn't really matter.

Then I mixed about a cup of good mayonnaise with probably 3/4's of a cup of grated cheddar and 3/4's of a cup of grated parmesan. Spread that heavenly elixir on top of the tomatoes and bake at 375 degrees until it's all browned and the tomatoes appear to be cooked. You don't want them to be mush but you want them to be cooked. Half an hour? I don't know.

Don't drop the pie when taking it in or out of the oven. If you do, scape it up and eat it anyway.

Sorry for the vagueness here. This is how I cook. Feel free to play around with these general instructions if you want.

Questions? Ask away in comments.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Bit Of A Melancholy But Fine, Really

Well, yet another irony in that I woke up this morning with one side of my throat extremely sore and not feeling very well at all.
La-di-dah.
I did some chores around here and then went to Lily's and we drove to town to go to Target to get the rest of the things Owen needed for camp. Underwear and bug spray and other things of great importance were purchased and then we went to a Jason's Deli for lunch. I had to laugh at the children's choices. Owen wanted the salad bar, Gibson got a kid pizza, and Maggie wanted a bowl of cream of broccoli soup.
The girl loves her broccoli.
And then I came home and did a few more chores and took a little nap and now it's time to make supper and I still don't feel very well although my throat isn't sore anymore.

Tomorrow Lily and Jason will drive Owen to his camp which is a few hours south of here. I need to get the card I bought him in the mail tomorrow so that he gets it before camp is over. He was a little bit emotional today and I understand that. Not only is he leaving home for five days but also he's just at the age when hormones and life are starting to shift on him. He's getting so tall so quickly. He's sweet to his MerMer though and he wore his Rolling Stones T-shirt today because he knows I love it. He knows I love him. I'm pretty sure he knows it to his bones.
I hope they all do, these grandchildren of mine.
It has been such a gift to me to be able to keep records here of their births and their early lives. Of their developmental milestones, of the funny and profound things they've done and said, not to mention the pictures. If there is any reason at all that I would hope that this blog doesn't someday just disappear into the ether it's that I want them to know how much I have loved them since before they were born, how much their lives mean to me, how very, very much their grandfather and I have loved them.

The world may be going to hell but there is still love and there is still caring.
So much of both.

I'm going to go make our supper now. Not a good evening for me and writing.
Hopefully, tomorrow will be better and this sense of melancholy will have drifted away like the storm clouds did this afternoon as I hurried to get the clothes off the line.
It never did rain. But that's okay.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Good Doctor

And that, my friends, is what happened to my tomato pie last night. Well, actually, it obviously didn't just happen. I dropped it, sliding it back into the oven.
But. Because most of it landed on the oven door instead of the floor, I was able to salvage a of it and by god that slightly smushed tomato pie was the best tomato pie I ever ate. Mr. Moon said so last night and then again today when he ate some for lunch. The pastry may not have looked that pretty even before I dropped it but it tasted perfect.
So. There you go.

The doctor's appointment. 

Okay. I had just about the worst anxiety attack I've ever had, getting there, sitting in the office, and then going into the exam room. Feet and hands tingling. Inability to concentrate. Those were the two main symptoms. I tried to practice a little mindfulness to bring myself back to the present but my brain laughed at that. I told the girl who took my blood pressure that it was going to be bad and it was pretty bad. Not horrific as in "You need to go to the emergency room right now!" bad but, "Okay, yeah, well, that's not so good."
But they know me by now.
I didn't have to wait long before the darling doctor came in.
"How are you doing?"
And I told him that I was having an anxiety attack. Just flat-out said it. I also told him that I wasn't sure he grasped the full meaning of what I was experiencing and he didn't laugh at me. I had taken an Ativan but it hadn't kicked in yet or else what I was feeling was simply too strong for the drug to have much effect. But what that sweet man did next DID have an effect on me. He sat down and said, "You won't believe what I've done. You'll just die!"
"That would be fine," I told him. He did laugh then.
He got his phone out and started going through pictures and showed me a shot of some baby chicks and a duckling.
"You got chickens!" I said. "And ducklings?"
"And ducklings," he said.
And then he proceeded to tell me all about the chicks and how much his son loved them and how funny the ducks were and that he and his wife were going to have another baby soon and then I told him about how when I had two ducks, both females, they loved having sex with each other and he laughed about that too. I mean, he spent a good ten minutes at least talking with me about chickens and then he got me up on the table (he never makes me undress) and took my blood pressure again and it had come down a startling amount and he did a few doctor things which he does so gracefully and slyly that I barely realize he's doing it. He asked me if I had any idea why I have such a neurosis about the doctor's office and I told him that I did not but that I certainly wish I did so that I could do something about it. I told him that I can remember having to be held down in a doctor's office to get my flu shots and that also, I can remember going to the doctor with my mother for an appointment for HER and being so anxious (although I had no word for it) just being in the doctor's office that I would start to get all of these psychosomatic symptoms to the point where I thought I might die.
It's all tangled up and who knows? Who knows? Not me.
When he was finished with the official doctoring he said I could sit back down in the chair and then we discussed my cholesterol which is for some unknown reason better and we talked about politics and got into even more distantly related topics like nuclear war and climate change and how he worries about the world for his kids and I worry about the world for my grandkids and we talked about aging and a whole lot of other stuff and eventually he said, "Okay. If you promise me you'll call if you need anything, I'll see you next year."
And that was that.
Except that I hugged him, teary as I so often am, and said, "I just love you," and he hugged me back and said, "The feeling is mutual."

And that was how it went.

After I left the office I met up with Lily and her three babies and Hank and Rachel and our friend Lauren at Tan's which I have discussed before. It's a relatively small buffet place but the food is so good and they have all sorts of Asian-inspired dishes and now they have sushi too and of course, this is the place with the dessert freezer which is filled with things like Eskimo pies and little ice cream cones so we all love it. I don't care at all about the ice cream but I do so love the Mongolian tofu and soups and curries and it was fun. The children were good and I was so happy to be there with them.

My Owen and his beloved noodles. 

And then I came home and absolutely and literally crashed and slept for an hour. 

And it's over- that appointment is over and I don't have to think about any of it again for another year unless I get ill in some way and in the...what? Two years? Three years? I've been going to Dr. Zorn, I've never once had to call about an illness or a problem. 

I still feel a bit insane. 

This must sound so ridiculous to most of you. 

SNAP OUT OF IT! you might want to say. 

Honey, if I could, don't you think I would?

Ain't no one wants to feel like this. Not a soul on this earth. 

I'm going to go fry a little whole red snapper. 

I'll try not to drop it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Here, Not Here. Whatever

Our phone is out again but the internet is working. Sort of. I guess I need to call Century Link again but that's not going to happen tonight. We don't really need a landline anymore but I feel better having that back-up when the cell towers go out when we have a hurricane.
Notice I said "when" and not "if."

I'm trying to reduce my anxiety about tomorrow's appointment with my lovely doctor with cooking/baking. I've got field peas from the garden on the simmer and a pie pastry ready for tomato pie. My crust looks like a dog made it. I am not good at pastry and that's all there is to it.
Oh well.

I stayed busy today, running a bunch of errands in town and then shelling some of those peas. Mr. Moon had already shelled a good amount last week and I added mine to the mix. Shelling peas is even better than ironing when it comes to having an excuse to watch TV because you don't even have to stand up. You can sit there with your feet up on the coffee table, one big bowl for shelling in so that when the peas fly out of their shells, they don't escape, the other for the shucks. Peels? Pods? Whatever. It's meditative and I wish I'd had a bushel to shell.

I don't feel like I have a thing to talk about except anxiety and that's not fun for anyone. How ironic that the thing that sent me, finally, to a doctor was anxiety and now going to that doctor causes me the most anxiety in my life. It's not his fault. It's just that he's a doctor. I sure do wish I knew why I have this reaction. Maybe if I did I could figure out how to fix it.

My husband is home. Right now he's vacuum sealing fish fillets to freeze. His birthday is on Saturday and I actually went to Bass Pro Shop today to get him presents. Have you ever been to a Bass Pro Shop? It's...interesting. Besides all of the fishing and hunting and camping gear that you'd expect them to have they also have giant wall-sized aquariums with bass and other fish swimming around in them. You can bring your kids to watch them feed the fish. They also have all sorts of apparel, a lot of it outdoor-type stuff but some of it not. And shoes. And gifts. And hats. And other stuff. It's a sportsman's paradise. Or a sportswoman's paradise. I guess. I think my husband probably spends a great deal of time there but I don't know that for sure. I know that he certainly has a lot of sportsman-related objects. And clothing. Anyway, he doesn't have what I bought him today which probably means he does not need or perhaps even want these objects but I think he'll be happy with them. At least I got him something.

And that's about it. Everything will be better by this time tomorrow.
Hopefully.
And then on Thursday Lily and I are going shopping to get Owen the rest of the stuff he needs for camp. He's going to the same camp he went to last summer which is a camp for kids with special needs. He's going to the Epilepsy week. He's looking forward to it so much. He had the best time last year and I sure am glad he gets to go again. It's actually only five days but it'll be a fun and action packed five days.

I have the pie in the oven now and the kitchen smells of basil and onions. I'm already dissociating like crazy but hey! Free trip, right? To where, I am not sure, but it's not exactly here. There is no thunder tonight, no sudden breezes of cooler air. Just heat and humidity, and I could not be more grateful for air conditioning.

Here's a picture of Magnolia that Lily sent last night.

Lord but that child is gorgeous.

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon