Another Day In Paradise

I'm not sure if any of you remember but a few years ago Mr. Moon underwent a long, long series of many tests to try and discover what was going on with his legs and feet. He went to a local neurologist who tested him for everything from genetic disorders to spinal problems and all things in between.
And nothing showed up.
"I give up," said the neurologist. "I want you to go to Mayo."
Well, that was in a December and because my husband is self-admittedly stubborn as a mule and on January 1 our insurance deductible (which was quite high) would have to be met again, he said, "Nope. That's enough for now."
In June, my husband turned 65- the magic age when Americans can actually get some cheaper healthcare. And so he made an appointment with the neurologist to get a referral to Mayo or some other place where the doctors might have a clue. And that appointment was today. I went with him, of course. You always need someone to go with you to appointments like this because it takes two of you to ask all the questions and remember the answers.
And so the doctor is going to start with the testing again. No more genetic testing at this point because that hasn't changed. But the blood work, the MRI's, the EMG's...all of that will begin again. As the doctor said, wherever we go they're going to want all of the results of these tests and who knows? Maybe something will be more obvious this time around.
And so we have begun.
It is a dreaded process but if there is anything that can be done to halt or slow down the progressing difficulty that my husband has walking, we want to know about it. And of course, one just wants a diagnosis. Humans are like that.
I think that also, I am going to start doing more research online. Why not? I'm not apt to believe quack-sites or miracle-cure sites but perhaps there are other people who have what he has who have figured out some answers as to what and why.

In more cheerful news, Lily has decided to let Owen and Gibson walk home from the bus stop this year. That's a walk of a mile and I am all for it. However, because we live in this time where children are to be monitored every moment they both got phones today. I have mixed feelings about this but they're not getting all of the features that phones offer. I'm not sure what that means, exactly because we haven't discussed the details, but today I got first this text.

And then this one.

One thing I absolutely do not have mixed feelings about is being able to text back and forth with my grandsons. Gibson is an amazing speller for a kid going into the second grade and I am very proud of him for that. On the drive to North Carolina, Lily did spelling bees with them, using online lists of words from different grades and don't tell Owen I told you this but Gibson can spell more words than Owen who is going into fourth grade.

That kid is full of surprises. 

So I'm just going to embrace this and face the fact that it's a brave new world. And add them to my contacts. 

And that's what my day has been like. I did take a walk and I think I got mild heat stroke from it but probably not. It felt like it though. It's hot as hell. The green coolness of North Carolina is like a dream to me now. While I was walking I passed some guys working on the grass around the sidewalks (sorry, Mr. P! I AM in the USA and that is what we call it). They were picking up trash and using a weed wacker. (Not a weed WANKER, Mr. P!) and I felt so sorry for them. The boss was sitting in his air conditioned truck while the other two men toiled and broiled under the sun's direct rays. 

Did you see where Trump told the people in Dayton (I think it was Dayton. It might have been El Paso or perhaps Toledo) that God was watching when they slaughter occurred? 

Reminds me of a joke that I heard recently on Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee.

A holocaust survivor dies and goes to heaven but before God lets him in he says, "Tell me a joke."

So the old, old man tells him a holocaust joke. 

"That's not funny, " says God. 

"I guess you had to be there," said the survivor. 

It took me a second to get it but when I did it occurred to me that this might be one of the most profound things ever said about religion. 

We shall see what tomorrow brings. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Now. How Do We Do It?

That there (and for some reason I feel I absolutely must use those two words in that exact order) is a Georgia Thumper grasshopper. He was happily gnawing through one of the rice paper plant leaves in my yard today. Some people call these things "lubbers" but I've always heard them called Georgia Thumpers and it is almost mandatory for even the most Buddhist among us to thump every one of those things we see to the ground and then smash it because they just annihilate yard and garden plants. We see it as adding nutrients to the soil.
I did not smash that one. I just didn't have the heart. I have too many rice paper plants by far and so I just let him continue on in peace although it's probably a she and will give birth to thousands just like herself.
And by the way, he/she is about three inches long. If not longer.
Which, if you ask me, is entirely too big for an insect.

You may notice I haven't discussed the news lately. This is probably because I just don't know what to say. It's not that I'm not thinking about the tragedies that occurred in El Paso (which, by the way, is where I was born) and in Dayton. I feel the way any thinking human feels which is gutted. Devastated. Unbelieving. Outraged. Beat down. Horrified. Frightened.
And absolutely certain that until we outlaw these goddamn assault weapons this is going to keep happening.
Of course I blame Trump and his racist rhetoric but I am also aware that mass shootings have happened under other people's presidencies and that crazy people (and you have to be crazy in the very worst kind of way to commit such an act) are going to rationalize what they do with their own twisted logic. BUT, the person who occupies the White House at this moment is adding fuel to the fire of hatred and racism and violence and there is no denying that. He IS inciting violence. That's just a fact. He IS a racist. There is no denying it. Except perhaps by him but we know he lies every time he opens that anal-opening of a mouth of his.
Did you hear his little speech the other day? It is so obvious that he cannot really read. And that may be part of his problem. He's probably been ashamed of that his whole life. He never got the diagnosis and education that a person with a reading disorder needs. But that's not a defense of him in any way. He may have been a different person if his father had loved him more. If his mother had loved him more. But there comes a time in any relationship when one partner can no longer defend staying with an abuser due to whatever happened in the past to make the abusing partner the way he or she is. The point becomes moot when the threat of violence is too great.
And we Americans who are in an unasked-for relationship with the Great Orange Abuser have got to figure out how to cut him out of our lives.

And we have to figure out how to get out of our relationship with easy access to firearms. For the safety of ourselves and of our children.

So sayeth I, and so now it shall be done.

Right.

Wrong.

I really do not want to disrespect or sully the name of one of the greatest writers of our time but it is impossible to not say how deeply Toni Morrison will be missed. She, like Maya Angelou, was for me a woman who showed by example that it is possible to survive almost anything, rising from the fire of abuse and racism (not that I've ever had to suffer a second for my white ass) and misogyny- burnt clean and sharp and strong like a knife blade forged in the hottest flames.
I've always said that because I didn't have a father growing up, I've chosen my own father figures. B.B. King. Jimmy Carter. Those are two.
But as I've gotten older I realize that I have also subconsciously focused on women whom I see as archetypal mothers and Maya Angelou and Toni Morrison were two of those.
Perhaps I should say that they are two archetypal women. Goddess-like in my eyes.
We need those women. And we have one less today.
I am grateful that she lived among us and grateful that her art was language. She blessed us with her presence. And we will always have her words.

So it's been a day in Lloyd. I took a walk, I went to the library, I made a salsa verde to become part of a shrimp enchilada dish.

The first time I've ever cooked with tomatillos. 

There's so much more to be said but it's not going to come from me tonight. I am going to selfishly hang on to the goodness in my life and try very hard to be aware of all of it. To acknowledge it. To do otherwise would be folly and pointless. To ignore that which is love in order to focus on that which is evil helps no one. 

And so it is and so it goes. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Story

When I was a senior in high school I applied to exactly two colleges. One was Duke because that's where I wanted to go and my back-up was the University of Denver because, well, it's a short story but it involves my stepfather and I do not care to go into it. Frankly, I think he wanted me as far away as possible.
Anyway, although I tested quite well and had good SAT's, my grades were not perfect. I had missed three months of school in my Junior year due to almost dying from mononucleosis and although before I got sick I had been a practically perfect in every way student, after I recovered I simply wasn't as obsessed with getting straight A's.
Almost dying will do that to you.
So Duke sent me a nice letter saying that no, they would not accept me in the fall but would accept me for the spring semester following that whereas DU (yes, DU) was happy to take me as I was as soon as possible. Since there was no way I was going to stay in Winter Haven, Florida in that house for one more day than was absolutely necessary, I signed right up for whatever Denver had to offer.
Of course, I'd never been to Denver but I'd just gotten back from a fairly extensive tour of Europe with a group and felt quite cosmopolitan and shit and was sure that I could handle Denver. Why not? The brochure looked pretty good. Interesting buildings, trees on campus, mountains to the west.
Okay.
So my parents flew out there with me and when we approached the city I thought to myself, "Dear god, what have I done?" Denver was not green. It was brown. Instead of lakes and rivers and an ocean there were mountains so high that they looked as if they might pierce the sky in a painful way. Well. There I was.
I got settled into my dorm, met my roommate, a rather awkward but sweet girl who was actually from Denver and began my fairly brief college career in Colorado.
I was such a round hole in a square peg and I won't get into all the ways that was true but let's just put it this way- I was so fucking miserable. I was homesick for my tribe and the boyfriend I'd left behind. I listened to Joni Mitchell's "Blue" relentlessly. I entered my first real bout of depression. And the worst thing of all was the lack of trees and water. I just...could not deal with that. I'd go to the Botanical Gardens and walk around and smell plants and cry.
I stuck it out for a year and a half but that was all I could do. I was a complete mess. When I went home for a Christmas holiday I started up a romance with a guy who lived in Tallahassee. The boyfriend I'd left behind had left me behind but this boy, this different boy, was sweet and he told me, "If you hate Denver, move to Tallahassee. You can live with me."
Poor thing. I took him up on it.
And basically, that's how I came to live here. That was forty-five years ago.
The romance did not last and I think I lived with that sweet boy for about a week but then I was taken in by a friend of his, a woman I love to this day. And honestly, I still love that boy and we are still friends so it all worked out.
But I'll never forget driving from Denver to Tallahassee in my little, crappy Ford Capri with my rocking chair (still have it), my pressure cooker (I've replaced it), and my parakeets (dead a long, long time now) and how I felt when the country I was driving through went from dry and bare and spare and cold to verdant and green and humid and warm and goddammit, I was so happy.
Trees.
And in an example of extreme ironic coincidence, just as I started writing about trees here and how much I love them and all of the green that grows around me I suddenly heard a huge cracking, ripping noise which I know all too well from hurricanes and storms and which sent a huge jolt of adrenalin through my body (I am sitting on my back porch) and then the whush of leaves as they are being dropped from one place to another and finally, the loud crash of a large tree limb hitting the ground.
When I tell you that the earth shakes a bit when this happens I am not kidding you.

That, my friends, is a hellvasciously large pecan limb and somehow it avoided taking out part of the porch roof OR the AC unit. It just grazed one of my camellias. 

Time to get out the chain saw. Well, not for me to use but for Glen to use. Cut, haul, burn. 

I love my trees with all of my heart but they can kill you dead if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time but I will live with that threat gladly because if I'd had to live in Denver for another year I probably would have died at the age of twenty. 

Please know that I am not disparaging Denver or Colorado. Some people are mountain people and they find themselves at home and their souls at peace in the mountains, whether those of the Rockies or the Smokies or the Alps. But as I said yesterday, I am a flatlander and a southerner, too, to be honest. I need the water and the warmth. I need an ocean nearby. I need the grace of the green for my heart to be at home. As beautiful as mountains are I never feel like I belong on one although I have had some beautiful times on a few. I can appreciate their beauty and their majesty but they are not where I belong. 

Sometimes I am not sure I belong here, either. I moved to Tallahassee on a whim and an invitation which was no doubt given with the thought that I'd never accept it. I came to call it home. I made friends who are still friends to this day. I learned to love the rivers and the beaches although to me, the ocean will always be the Atlantic which is where I lived when I was a young child. Still- saltwater. I have come to love the ancient oaks, the Spanish moss which drapes their limbs, the azaleas, the camellias, the ferns and palmetto, the canopy roads, and the red dirt. I stuck around. I fell in love with another man from Winter Haven and he ended up moving here and playing music with a guy I met the first day I arrived in Tallahassee. We had two kids. It was okay for a few years and then it wasn't. We divorced and I went to nursing school and met a guy in a bar who was inappropriately tall. He asked me to dance (my ex-husband's band was playing) and before I knew it, he'd claimed the highest shelf in my closet and was giving my children Christmas presents and you know the rest. 

We had two more children. He built businesses. The children grew up, some of them had babies of their own. And now I am as rooted here as one of the oaks and I could no more leave this place than I could leave my own body. 

Which I will someday. 

But probably not today. 

My last remaining baby of Dearie's is laying eggs now. This is what they look like. 

Can you see how round her eggs are? Such a pretty egg. 

I am getting seven eggs a day now. When the babies start laying, and it looks to me like they all may actually be hens but I've been wrong before- I could theoretically get eleven eggs a day. 

Lord. 

I live in a place which is not only verdant but fecund. And I suppose that's where I'm meant to be although I don't really believe in fate or "meant to be." Things happen. Boy kisses girl. Girl packs her car. One Capri carload of stuff becomes enough stuff to fill a huge old house, to furnish the life of a wife, a mother a grandmother. 

That's how it goes. 

That's how it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Those trees in the DU brochure? They were not there. Fuck them. 

P.P.S. That awkward, sweet girl who was my roommate eventually became the State's Attorney for Colorado and then the Secretary of the Interior for George W. Bush. I am not shitting you. And by the way- she DID inhale. 

What I've Been Doing

This is probably the longest I've gone without blogging for years and years. And you know what? The world is still spinning and the toilet still flushes when you push the handle down.
I used to have a teacher in high school (current events?) who always said that. Maybe I should write about him sometime. He was a pretty interesting guy.
Anyway, that is absolutely not what I have on my mind tonight. What I have on my mind is something like this.

That's what we all looked like after our last breakfast all together before Mr. Moon and I hit the road yesterday for home. 

And home is where we are now and although it is quite beautiful here and although my bed is the very best bed in the world and although I am, at heart, glad to be here, I am also missing being with all of those people together in North Carolina. 

It was just an amazing trip and I'm so glad we all made the effort to make it. 

Here's the little Airbnb cabin that Mr. Moon and I stayed in our first three nights in Black Mountain.

It was so darling and so charming and we enjoyed our time there. August spent the night with us one night and we had pizza and he played with his Boppy and had a good shower and went to sleep on his very own fold-up mattress that we hauled all the way from Lloyd right beside us in our little bedroom after he and I read some of his favorite books which we had also brought with us. I know that sounds silly but I think he really enjoyed it all. 

The next day he woke up a little before seven and he and I spent some time outside while the grandfather got a little more sleep. He had some delicious yogurt and we had talks and I showed him some videos of the Rolling Stones. It's time for his education to begin. 

One morning, maybe the morning that August spent the night, we went to a cute little breakfast place called The Twisted Biscuit where the focus was on biscuits and fried chicken offered in different variations. Jessie sort of forced me to choose one of those options instead of eggs and because she's the boss of me I got the fried chicken and a biscuit with arugula, fried green tomatoes and honey mustard. 

It was good. 

While we were waiting, Levon got some milk. 

He still loves his milk and as the weekly that Jessie is reading says, "Breast is best."

We went over to Camp Rockmont which Vergil's mama's husband is a part owner of and where Jessie and Vergil got married. Boppy and August went fishing. 

And look what August pulled in! A big bass! Strangely enough, this was the same exact spot where Owen caught his first fish when we were all up there for the wedding. 

And yes, the bass was released to grow and thrive and perhaps be caught again some day if he hasn't learned his lesson about bait and hooks. 

The boys did some splashing about in the water and played in the little creek. 

One night we were invited up to Vergil's mother's house for supper and that was beautiful. Her house is amazing and she built it herself. The views out of her windows are unbelievable and it's right beside a rushing creek and a little below it on the mountain is her garden which puts mine to such shame. She's fed her family out of that garden for decades and she is a master. We ate squash and green beans and the best tomatoes I've ever had that night. And then Vergil's sister and brother-in-law walked up from their house with their three kids and chaos did ensue and ice cream was eaten and it was beautiful, watching those cousins all play together. 

I am not telling this in any sort of order. I'm sure that if I really tried, I could remember things more chronologically but I'm not really in the mood for that sort of thing. I'm just going to sort of go with the mind-flow here. 

On Thursday morning we packed up our belongings from the little cabin and had breakfast and did some grocery shopping and then drove up the mountain to where we would be staying with Lily and Jason and their family. The house we were so incredibly fortunate to make our home for a few days was actually built by Vergil's grandfather and it now belongs to the YMCA camp but there is some sort of arrangement whereby the Weatherford family can stay there at certain times. It truly is one of the most beautiful houses I've ever seen and it is built all of local wood and rocks taken from nearby creeks and rivers. 

That's the back part of the house and the front is facing an incredible view. There's a patio/balcony where we all did a lot of hanging out watching the changing clouds, the shadows, the light, the ridges and hills. 

It was unbelievably beautiful. 

The Hartmanns found their way up the mountain and let me stop a moment to describe the road up to the Weatherford properties. As I told Lily, you don't really need a Sherpa but you sort of need a Sherpa. As a life-long flatlander, I can not imagine driving this one-lane gravel road with deathly drop-offs a few feet from the edge to get to town. I would simply never leave. I probably could drive the road if someone's life depended on it but otherwise- nope. Vergil's people are a completely different breed of human beings. That's all there is to it. They walk up and down that mountain, they bike up and down that mountain. They drive up and down it in snow and in ice. 

They are super beings in my opinion. 

But Jason made it and we were waiting for them and showed them the house and where their rooms were and the children immediately went exploring and opened all of the closets and found the games (there is no TV) and before we knew it, Jenga was being played on that balcony. Lots and lots of Jenga was played. 

I made chicken and dumplings that night and when Vergil came in from work he told me that it was so good to walk into his grandmother's house to smell that delicious southern cooking smell and nothing could have made me happier. Vergil loved his grandma and spent a lot of time with her in that house and I think it feel very good to him to have it filled with children and laughter and cooking and eating and living again. 

And I told him how honored I felt to be able to stay there, to cook in his grandmother's kitchen. 

It's amazing how much the kids appreciated the house. They all loved it, even with the lack of TV. Owen especially loved it. Being there with my kids and my grandkids in a situation where we were all just having fun and enjoying being together was incredibly special to me. I can't even begin to tell you how precious it was. 

On Friday we all went to a small waterfall about an hour away. Pictures from there:

What fun! There was rock climbing and swimming in the cold river and Owen learned to skip stones and the Hartmanns got behind the waterfall and Owen and Jason and Gibson let the waterfall take them into the river even though it was really scary. 

I am proud of them. 

So it was like that. 

There's so much more to tell but mostly what I want to say is that it was simply a most wonderful and splendid vacation and Jessie and Vergil were the best hosts and took care of everything. 

And oh! We did see a bear. It was a cub hanging out in the amphitheater of the YMCA camp. 

Can you see him? 

A few more pictures. 

Flowers my grandchildren picked for me on a walk. 

And now Lily and Jason and their kids are in Atlanta to visit the aquarium there and enjoy the big city for a day and Jessie and Vergil are probably glad to be back on their own even though I know they enjoyed having us there. 

All of my chickens are still alive and Jack tried to sleep on both Glen and me last night and Maurice showed up this morning and I think they are glad we're back. My porch spider is still hanging in her web, fine and fancy, and the garden is almost done but I did pick a few things today. 

You can't beat those rattlesnake beans for longevity. 

Almost the last of the tomatoes. 

Sigh. 

And dammit. 

And today has been filled with laundry and unpacking and watering and filling chicken feeders and sweeping and ironing. 

Once again, I went away and I came back and it was good. 

I am not quite sure how I'll manage one more month without August and Levon. But I suppose I will. 

Here are some of my best memories of this trip:

When I was making the chicken and dumplings, Maggie came into the kitchen and she said, "Mer, you are my very best friend forever and ever." 

That girl. There is no one like her. And let me also say here that she is quite agile and can fit her body into a china cabinet. Specifically, that one in the corner in the picture of us at the table. 

Seriously. 

Another one was when August saw me kissing his grandfather and said, "Mer, can you kiss me too?"

My heart. 

Getting to spend time with Owen. He was the most helpful, loving boy and when he was helping me to pack and make the bed I got to tell him how much I not only loved him but liked him. How much I respect the person he is and how much I enjoy being with him. That even if he wasn't my grandson, I would want to hang out with him. 

He didn't say much, but I know he heard me. 

And the last was when we were going around the table the last night we were all together telling what we were most thankful for. We even asked Levon who was sitting in the chair next to me. That little boy looked a bit bewildered and then he got a smile on his face and said, "Boppy."

There was more. So much more. But that will do for now. 

Love from Lloyd...Ms. Moon

I could write a million words about where we are and what we’re doing but five grandchildren and a so much love and making chicken and dumplings and all of it- all of it- has left me too tired to even think. 

But all is very, very well and that is the view from the balcony patio of Vergil’s beloved grandmother’s house where we are staying now. The picture changes minute by minute and it is always amazing. 

As Owen said tonight, “I am so glad I got to come here.”

Love...Ms. Moon 

Boys, Boys, Boys. And Bears!

I've stayed at a few Airbnb places now and out of that small sampling I've made some observations. I shared one of these with Jessie today.
"Seems like a lot of these places have a definite hippie air to them," I said. As you know me, you know that this is not necessarily a negative statement. This pretty little cabin is no exception. There are some crystals and there are aromatherapy oils in the medicine chest and so forth.
Jessie thought a second and said, "Well, you have stayed at the places you chose."
BadaDUM!
Of course. I laughed. She's right!
Another thing I've noticed (and I feel that this may be more universal) is that the "artwork" in them is, um, well...pretty random. Like maybe paintings that friends gave them. Or possibly vaguely interesting things acquired at garage sales.
But you know- art.
So in the picture above you see Levon sitting on our bed in front of one of the original paintings here playing with his front-end loader and the tiles of a Rummikube game. We had a good time with those and also with the tiles of a Scrabble game. This all happened while Jessie took a few hours to herself to do some things she needed to do.

We spent a little time outside, too. The boys played with rocks because that's fun. And then Boppy did some drawing for August. Boppy does the best drawings. Especially of tractors. 

Can you see me climbing a mountain? 

Mr. Moon has quite the imagination.  

When Jessie got back we all went to lunch at a Thai restaurant and then we went to an amazing hardware store that also sold toys and Levon went insane over a little tractor toy and so the grandparents bought that and also a toy for August which is a sock-monkey sort of thing which shoots foam balls out of its mouth when you push in his stomach. 

Hours of fun. 

Hours!

August is spending the night with us here at the cabin tonight. Boppy's gone to go pick up pizza. It's been raining and it's so nice and cool. Black Mountain is a beautiful place in all ways. The town, the mountain, the vibe. 

(Speaking of hippies.)

Oh! Jessie and Vergil have just moved into a little cabin near their property which is within the confines of a YMCA camp. 

Long story involving family history. BUT here's the sign posted on their refrigerator. 

This is no joke. Jessie says that every time she's been to their property except for twice, she's seen bears. Her sister-in-law was in her kitchen, heard something and turned around to see a cub in the entrance of her house. 

Don't worry. There's plenty of apples for the bears to eat. They're happy. And Vergil's mom has a flare gun she uses to scare them off. 

Oh Lord. I trust with all of my heart that they know what they're doing. The North Carolinians, that is, not the bears. Although they probably know exactly what they're doing too. 

I am mighty glad to be here. And I really want to see a bear before we leave. Not that we don't have them in Florida. We certainly do. I just haven't seen one in Lloyd. And perhaps these local Black Mountain bears, fattened on Vergil's family's apples are fatter and jollier than our North Florida bears. 

I can do without seeing any of the copperheads that they've seen though. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In The Sweet Green Hills

It was just about the best birthday ever. I have determined that for me, being on the road or at least out of town is just the best way for me to celebrate. We had a beautiful day driving through the Georgia countryside, stopping where we wanted to stop, going down the backroads.
We got to Athens, Georgia about 5:30 and checked in to the Graduate Inn where I discovered that Mr. Moon had upgraded us to a suite for my birthday and it was such a sweet suite and a sweet thing for him to do.
We had our dinner at the South Kitchen+Bar which is in a most beautiful old building about a ten minute walk from the hotel. There's stained glass and marble and we dined well.
And then we slept well.
We got up this morning and got back on the road and now we're here in a pretty little cabin in Black Mountain just a few miles from where Jessie and Vergil are staying. Jessie drove over with the boys and it was so precious, getting to see them. As soon as Levon saw his grandfather he said, "Big Boppy!"
They've both grown. But they're still August and Levon. Levon wants to do everything that his Auga does. He was carrying both a tractor and a shovel when he got out of the car and before too long he and Boppy were playing with the tractor and August and I were reading books.
And then we drove over to where Vergil was working on the property that he and Jessie are buying on the mountain near his mother's house and his sister's house. They'll eventually build their own house and it will be beautiful.

August is making a funny face because, well, he wanted to. 

We all had our supper at a place in downtown Black Mountain and it was good and we ate outside and the boys played and played with rocks and running while the grown-ups talked. 

So it's been a most fine trip so far and I'm feeling so grateful for every second of it. I think I may back-off the blog-world for a few days. I'll probably report in and try to read some blogs but I'm going to be pretty busy. And right now I'm just tired. 

Thank all of you who birthday-greeted me. That meant the world to me. 

I am well and truly 65 now and so far, it's okay and I'm happy to be here. 

And, as Keith Richards always says, I'm pretty happy to be anywhere.

Love From North Carolina...Ms. Moon

The Birthday Celebrations Have Now Begun

Well, tomorrow we'll be leaving the sweetness that is Lloyd and heading up to the loveliness which is North Carolina. I'm just about packed. I've polished my silver bracelets. I've cleaned out the hen house and taken the trash and recycle. I've ironed all of the shirts Mr. Moon might want to take. I've done every lick of laundry. I've thrown out leftovers to the chickens that we won't be eating. I've watered the porch plants. I've organized medications and supplements and even- in order to prevent forgetting them- packed them in my Virgin of Guadalupe bag that goes on every trip with me because it holds a whole lot of stuff.
Honey, I have shaved my legs.
I guess I'm about ready.

It's already been a very good birthday weekend. Last night Mr. Moon discovered that one of the many random networks we have was streaming "Havana Moon" which is the concert footage from the Rolling Stones concert in Havana, Cuba. I've been wanting to watch that film for ages now and finally- there it was. I enjoyed it so much. It seemed to me that the Stones were as happy to be there as the Cubans were to have them. It's so crazy to think that forty years ago, a Cuban could be jailed for owning a Rolling Stones record. But there was the one small sliver of time when things were loosening up between the US and Cuba when Obama was president, back when we all still believed in things like progress and peace and (dare I say it?) hope and change, and the Stones got the opportunity to play in Havana and it was a really powerful event. It happened just days after Obama and Michelle and their daughters visited Cuba themselves which was the first time a US president had visited the island nation since 1928. In fact, the Stones had to reschedule the date of their concert because of Obama's visit. And Obama mentioned them in the speech he gave to the Cuban people. They ended up playing on Good Friday which the Pope himself took a position on, telling them that no, that just would not do.
The Stones, however, basically told the Pope to fuck off and I would say that it was indeed a very good Friday.
I'm not sure I've ever seen any of the Rolling Stones' concert footage where the band looked so happy. Thrilled might not be overstating it. In fact, it appeared that both the audience and the band were thinking the same thing the entire time which was, "Can you believe this?"
This occurred in 2016, three years ago, which was also the year I got to go to Havana with Lis and other musicians from the St. Augustine area and I was just talking to her about that trip and how that was a magical opportunity and how very, very glad that we got to go.
I think there was lots of magic in Cuba that year.
Of course Trump has tightened everything back up again because he is evil. There is no other possible reason he would do that. Which is pretty much how I feel about everything he does.
But on March 25, 2016 the Rolling Stones put on a free concert that an estimated half a million people showed up to see and trust me- there was joy. Hell, even Charlie Watts was grinning.
I know. I KNOW! I've talked about this before but I suppose that this concert can rightly be called another of the Known Miracles of the Church of the Batshit Crazy. Just the logistics of the stage and electricity and lights and porta potties and speakers and, and, and...
I guess they shipped it all in from Miami. I have no idea. I know for damn certain that Cuba didn't have the infrastructure to put on an event like that.
But god, it was a great concert. They did long, long jams on some songs and just wove the magic of rock and roll until the crowd was frenzied and the band kept smiling bigger and bigger and Mick got more and more outrageous and he spoke Spanish during the breaks between songs which everyone loved.
Oh my. So that was last night and tonight we'll eat our supper and hopefully get to bed pretty early because we want to leave as early in the morning as is possible while still being civilized so that we can take plenty of time just wandering and meandering our way up to Athens, Georgia. We even have real, true paper maps!
Here's the screenshot of a bit of texting that I got from Mr. Moon the other day.

Google Maps is great but there is no substitute for a map that you have to unfold and squint to see the little roads on. 

You know what I just realized? Mr. Moon has not packed one thing as far as I know. Maybe I better go suggest to him that it might be a good idea to start. Of course all he has to pack is his shorts, jeans, shirts and shoes. He already has a dopp kit filled with all of his other stuff. And god knows he's not going to shave his legs. He did buy snacks for the journey which I hear includes M&M's. 

Sigh. 

Well. Vacation. 

If I don't check in tomorrow it'll be because I'm having birthday adventures. But I'll let you know how it's going soon. You know I will. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Not Sure Why This Isn't A National Holiday

And that is about the extent of the work I did today. A garden cart full of pulled crocosmia, trimmed sago fronds, thorn vine, Virginia Creeper and a few other various weeds. Most of it came from that area you see to the left of the open gate where the border grass is also way overgrown but pulling that shit is like pulling wisdom teeth and I just didn't feel up to it today.
Fascinating, eh?
On the other side of the gate which you can't see there are areas behind and in front of the fence which I have allowed to get completely overgrown with invasives and small trees that were rooted from bird poop, mostly likely, and a whole lot of very healthy-looking poison ivy.

I just don't even know what to do about all that. Ten years ago I probably would have bought some Round-Up even though I already had my deep suspicions about the stuff. I had two good friends, one a master-gardener and one a sort of scientist who both assured me it was safe to use but we now know that that was bullshit and I can't, in good conscience, use it. I love it when people post on Facebook about using things like vinegar to kill weeds.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Yeah. Maybe down to the root. Maybe wimpy yankee weeds. What I've got going on here would simply laugh and laugh at the very audacity of anyone thinking that something like vinegar would have the least effect on it.
Mr. Moon has recently gotten his tractor fixed and after he goes back up to his former hunting camp in Georgia to collect the bush hog attachment he can pull and scrape everything in there and I think that's what it's going to take. For those of you who don't know what a bush hog is, go ahead and google it if you feel the need.

Where was I going with this?
Nowhere, obviously.

I probably should have been packing today but I can do that tomorrow. It's not going to take that long. Trust me.
Jessie says that this boy

told her this morning that he'd dreamed that Boppy and Mer were there to visit and when she told him that we would indeed be there in a few days he was very happy. So are Boppy and Mer.
I looking forward to the take-it-as-it comes trip up there too. We had such a good time doing that last summer. Was it last summer?
I think so. I'm not sure. Time is so funny these days.
Speaking of time, here's a picture that Lily sent today.

I told Lily that these are the moments to cherish because the time will go by and it will all be so hard to remember. Gibson and Maggie have been going through a rather contentious period, mostly because Maggie wants everything Gibson has and of course that's a grievous offense to an older brother who is often forced to share. But oh, when they are being sweet and loving- well. 

What could be more beautiful? 

All right. I guess that's about it. No one needs to hear about my clean sheets. 

But, but...BUT! 

Guess what today is? 

It's this guy's birthday. 

Sir Michael Philip Jagger. He is seventy-six years old today. And by the way- very few things piss me off more than someone saying whatever years-young. What ageist, condescending crap. Obviously, Mick was not seventy-six when that picture was taken. Wasn't he pretty? Do you realize that Mick is older than Robert Mueller? 

Whoa. 

We all age differently, don't we? And possibly practicing law can be harder on a man than a life of rock and roll. If you survive it, that is. And Mick has certainly done so. Hell, Keith Richards is older than Robert Mueller. Yeah, these guys have more wrinkles but they can still do two-hour concerts that leave the audience exhausted. 

Okay, okay. Enough about the Rolling Stones. 

Well. No. Not really. There's never enough for me but I'm sure that plenty of you have had enough. 

Go have a martini. It's Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon