There’s Darla waiting on Dottie to lay her egg and make the nest available. This is what the hens do. They pick out a nest and deem it “the one” for awhile, meanwhile leaving five others empty. There is absolutely no reason in the world that I can see for Darla to not lay her egg in that nest she’s standing in. It’s clean and ready. 

I say “that I can see” because I am sure there is good reason for hens to lay in the same nest and I think it may be so that if one hen goes broody, she’ll be sitting on the eggs of other hens- thus ensuring a stronger and more varied flock. It’s extremely hard on a hen to sit on eggs for three weeks with hardly any breaks for food and water and it’s far more efficient for one hen to do the work rather than the entire flock. And that way, the other hens continue to lay which the broody hen does not. She uses every bit of her energy to sit and incubate and then to raise the chicks. 

I think this is all fascinating unlike my day which was pretty dang boring. On one level, at least. 

I read a story in the New Yorker today (“The Loop” by J. Robert Lennon) and although it wasn’t my favorite short story I’ve ever read, it gave me a little something to chew on. In the story a sort of “Groundhog Day” thing occurs and the protagonist is doomed to find herself repeating the same Saturday over and over with no ability to change one detail. She decides that perhaps the only way to escape this loop is to observe and notice something she was supposed to see “...before she would be freed to finish her life, to experience newness every second until death. That’s what had been taken from her- the absolute pristine uniqueness of each boring moment of existence.”

Like a person who has just smoked his or her first joint and is suddenly thinking about the very cosmos in new and different ways, sometimes our minds can get a little blown by nothing more than a changed perspective and that is what those two lines gave me today. 

No matter how routine a day may be, each and every moment is absolutely new and unique. 

So I’m tucking that into my pocket and pondering it. Even though everything I did today is something I’ve done a thousand or more times, there are infinite ways that each act was different from all of the rest. And I suppose that if we pay attention, despite the seeming repitition of those acts it will lead to a sort of mindfulness. 

And whether or not that has any benefit at all is not for me to determine. I ain’t no Marianne Williamson or David Avocado Wolfe.

I’m just me. 

Typing away on my little phone. 

Okay. Well, there’s your nugget of the glaringly obvious for today. 

Time to go make supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

This Feels Sorta Like...Happiness

That’s my pathetic little harvest tonight. There are a few more eggplant growing that I’m going to leave on the vine to give them the chance to swell a bit. The greens are arugula and basil that are going into tonight’s salad. The eggs are- well- you know. And the zinnias are for joy, the little pepper for spice. 

I’ve had a good day today. Lily and Maggie and I met for lunch and it’s so different being with Maggie without the boys. I have to say (and please forgive me) that she’s a bit more civilized. It’s probably mostly a matter of when she’s with her brothers she has to constantly make sure that she is getting everything they’re getting whether that be French fries or attention. I feel a definite vibe of being three ladies when it’s just Lily and Maggie and me. 

We also went to Big Lots and that was fun, especially playing with all the light-up, action Halloween things. Halloween decorations have definitely gotten way more exciting since I was a child. I sort of love these skeleton hands coming out of typewriters to type, and howling wolves, and creepy children on rocking horses who sing eerie versions of Ring Around The Rosy which is a creepy song on its own. 

All of that was good and I went to Costco and then came home and ironed and watched some more of the docu-series “The Family” and cursed them as I blasted wrinkles with steam and heat. 

But aside from having a government infiltrated with a secret Christian society which has tentacles around the world and a president who thinks he can buy Greenland, I am surprisingly content and feeling almost, sometimes, sort of happy. 

Man. It’s fucking weird. 

But I like it. 

Here’s a text that Mr. Moon and I got from Jessie last night:

Glen and I laughed and laughed. 

I told my husband that if that happened I’d probably still be expected to show up every day and cook and do laundry. And Mr. Moon added, “And read stories and change diapers.” 

And this evening I actually talked to the boy on the phone where he somewhat redeemed himself by telling me that he loves me as “big as Boppy.”

Well, that’s pretty big. 

And it’s obvious that Boppy has achieved almost mythological status in the eyes of his grandchildren. Which is at it should be. 

I’m still without my MacBook so I’m neither commenting on blogs or answering comments on mine but please know that I am reading. I do love my phone but it’s not the best for all things. 

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal. However, like happiness, it’s sometimes the small things that matter. 

Life on earth as a human being. It’s huge and it’s so microscopic as to be laughably meaningless. 

In other words- confusing as hell. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Exhausting

Mr. Moon had two appointments today, one with the neurologist and one with the neurologist’s NP. The first one was scheduled for 12:30, the second for 2:30. I figured it would be a lengthy affair but when we  finally left the office it was 4:30. 

It astounds me that doctors can get away with over-scheduling patients like that. It’s like airlines over-booking flights. Do they think that with any luck a few people will just DIE?

Oh well. That’s over and now we are getting a referral to Mayo Clinic. There’s a branch (franchise?) in Jacksonville. 

And the good news is that my husband is in excellent health in all regards except for whatever it is that’s going on with his legs and feet and the neurologist has absolutely no clue about what that is and thus, the referral. 

After the appointments I still had to run by Publix and so my whole day is off-kilter. I’m such a creature of habit that things like this throw me off terribly. I have become way too inflexible and I know it. I’m the sort of person who has to have the pages in my browser window arranged just so. I suppose there’s no real problem with this. I don’t think I have any sort of obsessive/compulsive disorder although I’m sure that these ritual orders of chores and schedule and pages are my way of controlling my world as best I can and they offer a sense of security. 

They also serve to keep my anxiety in control. 

And as such, they have value. 

It is horribly hot and muggy again. The air is just thick with humidity. Walking across a parking lot feels like walking underwater, limbs slowed by the outside forces. It’s enough to make a saint cranky and I am no saint. 

This is a pretty worthless blog post. I’m sure I’ve written worse. A few more hours of being up and busy and then it will be time to crawl into my cool sheets with my fan blowing on me to read for a little while and then to tumble into my dreams. I hope they are not horrible tonight. 

Let’s all sleep in peace. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Well, back to writing on the phone and it’s really not so terribly bad. I may not do of my memory posts until my MacBook is fixed but then again, I may. 

The day has been as full as I thought it would be. Hank and Rachel came out to bury their beloved cat-child, Johnny Karate. Johnny died last night after a short lifetime of only six years. When Hank adopted the tiny black kitten whom we came to know as Johnny, he had already survived an umbilical hernia surgery. The little dude had come from a sort of cat-hoarding situation and he may have been inbred and it is doubtful that any of the cats there had decent food or healthcare and Johnny had one problem after another from uncontrollable diarrhea to neurological problems after he had a terrible fever. 

He was special. 

But Hank figured out that the cat was allergic to gluten and bought the special food and the diarrhea problem was solved and as for the neurological problems- well. They both figured out how to live with them and if there was ever a more loved and gently tended cat in the world I don’t know who it could have been. 

And then Hank met Rachel and Johnny and Rachel fell in love and he was Rachel’s very first pet. 

Despite all of his problems, Johnny remained sweet and funny and he had a good life but a few weeks ago he started getting sick and by last night there was nothing more that could be done. His heart had become (or always was) enlarged and he couldn’t walk and was probably in pain and Hank and Rachel let him go in grace. 

So. Because this yard in Lloyd has become the official pet cemetery, they brought him out here today and his final resting place was dug by his humans in a place of honor right beside our old boxer Pearl’s grave. We picked zinnias for him and laid a fallen log over the grave to mark the spot. He will become part of the earth. 

Hank read what is written on this gravestone:

It was perfect and we all cried. 

Mr. Moon survived the MRI and I have decided I like him on Valium. He is quite, as he said, mellow. He may or may not have fixed my car. We shall see. 

I took my laptop to the Computer Doctor and had a most pleasant exchange with a tall, bearded guy with long hair who wore a hair elastic on his wrist. They have run diagnostics and need to replace the keyboard and have to order the part and that’s going to take some time.

I’ll live. 

The thing I like about this place is that although I feel quite certain that the guys who work there think that I should probably be at home baking cookies and are silently laughing at my AOL email account, they never let those feelings show and do not condescend. 

So that’s been it for today. I cleaned out the hen house and gave the girls fresh straw to lay in and watered the porch plants. I am counting down the days until Jessie and Vergil return with those wild boys. 

While we were sitting in the waiting area of the radiology place today, an older man who was also waiting got up and started passing out cards for his church. I glanced up from my book and just said, “No,” but a woman behind us got quite irate. 

“Why do you think I need this?” she asked. 

“I’m a Christian,” said the old man. “This is how you get to heaven. Through Jesus. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know that Jesus is the way to get to heaven,” said the lady. “But I have my own church.” And she gave him back his card. The man took it and went back to his seat. 

Once again I wondered why in hell it’s socially acceptable for Christians to go around foisting off their beliefs onto others in any situation. 

I guess they think they’re doing the right thing. 

I thought about going and sitting down by the old man and telling him all about the Church of the Batshit Crazy and explaining the Miracle of Keith Richards or telling about the cat who provided comfort in hours of loneliness or pain. 

But I didn’t. 

Too bad for him, right?

Love...Ms. Moon

And then the “s” key quit working again and the reboot trick doesn’t work so...off to the professionals it will go tomorrow. 

Dammit. 

But in the grand scheme of things- not so much. 

So this is being thumb-typed on my phone. 

Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. The battery on my seven year old Prius finally seems to have hit its limit. When Lily and Maggie and I were in Monticello last Thursday my sturdy, trusty little car refused to start until I did something tricky with the key and the locks. We got home fine but when I tried to start it for us to go to the river yesterday the same thing happened and The Car Guy (aka Mr. Moon) diagnosed the battery needing replacing so he’s got to get me a new one of those AND go into work and get some things done and then come back and get me so that we can go to his MRI appointment. I am not going to let him do that by himself. He hates being enclosed in small spaces. 

He’s such a good guy. Today he and another man went over to a mutual friend’s place to fix the leaks in the roof WHILE IT WAS POURING RAIN! This is the friend who’s been having serious medical problems. I made him a pot of soup but making soup in a cozy kitchen is hardly a chore. I kept some back for us and that’s what we’re having for our supper with a pan of cornbread that I’ll make. 

I spent some time watching “The Family” on Netflix today and like Rebecca said- watch it with the lights on. I can’t tell you how strong my aversion to most forms of religion has become. This series only serves to make me feel even more strongly about it. While I watched I tried to do some embroidery on a pair of May’s old corduroy overalls that will fit August this winter and what I have discovered is that my left wrist, the one I broke in high school, will no longer allow me to do much needlework. It just purely hurts. This breaks my heart and makes my stubborn soul determined to find some work-around. 

We shall see. 

We shall also see how long it takes for me to be able to comment on blogs again. I suppose I could just leave a blank space for the esses. This may not work. I mean- “e  e “?

Oh well. At least my roof isn’t leaking and it’s not as hot as the burning surface of the sun. 

I give a Sunday Church of the Batshit Crazy AMEN for those blessings and the frogs and crickets are singing a fine response. 

At least in my mind that’s what they’re doing. 

In The Holy Name Of Babies, Soup, and Rock and Roll...

Love...Ms. Moon

Herb

I do not remember a great deal about my drive from Denver to Tallahassee. I recall staying mostly in Howard Johnson Motor Lodges. I do not know why. I also don't remember how I found the sweet boy's house when I got to Tallahassee but I did. It was very near campus and was on the corner of two major Tallahassee streets, Call and McComb, and it was, to be quite blunt, what had probably been a tenement shack and there were two or three others, right in a row on Call Street. All of those houses are gone now but one of them, the one the sweet boy rented, had a bit of history in that Carlisle Floyd who composed the opera "Susana" had lived in it when he was writing his most famous piece of music. Florida State University has preserved and moved the house to another location and I'm not quite sure what they're doing with it. Here's a picture I found of the house and Floyd.

The house had a front porch, two main rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, all very, very basic. I loved that house and it was haunted. I felt at home in it in a way I can't describe. 

But when I found the house, parked, and knocked on the front door, no one answered but a guy who saw me from the little cabin next door came over and said, "Are you Mary? Are you looking for D.?He's probably at the music school. Come on, I'll take you over there."

And that was how I met Herb. 

Herb did take me to the music school and we did find D. and Herb and I became very good friends and he was one of the kindest, funniest, craziest men I'd ever met. He was going to FSU art school at that time but he'd spent some time before that in prison. He'd been charged with possession of weed. He'd also been in Viet Nam if my memory serves. 

He was always happy. I've mentioned that I was in a major depression then and I was and although I may not have even understood what depression was and certainly didn't talk about it, Herb sensed that all was not well with me. That I was, in fact, broken. And he became my buddy, my pal. Looking back I see that Herb was part of my healing because he accepted me the way I was and gave me nothing but respect and love. 

I remember one night a bunch of us were very stoned and as stoned people will do, we got hungry. I excused myself, went into the kitchen and baked what I now call my hippie apple cake with whatever ingredients I had on hand which was not much. Herb took one bite of that warm cake when it came out of the oven and he looked at me and he said, "Lady, you are a goddess."

And I have never forgotten that. 

He was big and he was burly and he was bearded and long-haired and he'd wallpapered his little cottage in aluminum foil and egg cartons for some reason (an art project?) and he'd painted an old Electrolux canister vacuum to look like a penis and he always had some crazy project going on. 

At one point, he got an opportunity to go to Mexico to teach via some bizarre art-school contact but he couldn't go because he was still on parole so we came up with the good idea to write the judge who'd sentenced him a letter explaining the situation so that he could leave the country. We walked to the convenience store right across the street and bought a stationery pad, the only writing paper they had, which was printed on every page with one of those completely inane and ridiculous "Love Is" cartoons from the seventies. Because yes, this was the seventies. 

Like this.

And then I proceeded to write the letter for Herb on this stationery and in the letter I pointed out that Herb had served his time and served his country and had gotten this amazing opportunity and so please, would the judge release him from his parol? 

The letter was sent. 

The judge released him. 

I don't think that Herb ended up going to Mexico but eventually, he did leave for somewhere. 

Right about the time he left, our good friend Bill Wharton, now known as the Sauce Boss who was then and is now a musician, woke up one morning to find an old National Steel guitar leaning up against the wall of his house on his front porch. No note. No nothing. Just that guitar. 

And that guitar- well- it changed Bill's life. It changed his music, it changed his mind, it changed everything. And for years he was afraid that whoever had left that guitar was going to come back and claim it until finally once, Herb came back to town and touched base with all of us and he asked Bill, "Hey man, you still got that guitar?"

Herb had gotten it in one of his crazy barter-trades and knew he'd never play it but had a notion that Bill would. 

Bill's played that guitar all over the world and up and down and back and across the US many times. He's still playing it. 

And that was Herb. 

Last time I saw him he'd been down in South America working on some sort of gold recovery scheme from mines and he told me that he was going back and he was going to make a million dollars and that was all there was to it. And then he got into his little airplane and flew away. 

Haven't heard from him since but I sure hope he made that million. 

So that's my story about Herb and I'm enjoying writing these pages from the book of my story. They make me think about the past and about the people and places that have truly made me who I am. Tallahassee was and is filled with those people and of course those places. 

Today we went to the river, my husband and I, and we met up with Hank and Rachel and Lily and the kids and some friends of Hank's and Rachel's and Kelly and Wiley Cash and then our beloved John and Melissa showed up and it rained but it didn't lightening or thunder and we got river wet and rain wet and snacked under the beautiful new wooden shelter that looks like a chapel. 

Eventually everyone left but us. It was perfect.

Wiley and Maggie played in their own little river as well as the big one. 

This morning I got to spend a long time on the phone with my best friend since 1966 and just now I've gotten off the phone with May. We made each other laugh so hard. 

And now I'm going to go make some pizza. The dough is ready to roll out on the pizza stone and I have spinach to cook for it and wild hog sausage to put on it and I can hardly think of anything better. 

Thanks for coming along with me on these memory dances. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Old Mama At Home

I have been an old-lady-domestic-crone today.
So to speak.
I took a walk and it about killed me but didn't and I hung laundry on the line and tried once again to clean my shower doors. Remember that project? I tried everything and nothing did the least bit of good at getting the water stains off. I finally bought this horrible chemical spray that's supposed to take the paint off a dump truck but I never used it because I thought that it would kill me to breathe the fumes and/or touch it but yesterday I finally got it out and tried using it and
A. I could barely smell it, and
B. It didn't burn my skin, and
C. It didn't do a thing

I used it twice yesterday and this morning I gave it another go and even scrubbed but no, the water stains are still there and will be until Jesus returns.
And that was my last hope!

Oh well.

The other day Lily discovered that she had a couple of sand pear trees on her property. Florida sand pears are an Asian variety that are somewhat more rounded than the pears we're used to and their skins are sort of ugly looking and they are hard like the hardest apples.

They're called "sand" pears because they have a grit to them and you can peel them and eat them sliced, raw, but I love them for cooking. They are substantial! So Lily brought me a bag full yesterday and today I got out the canning kettle and perused recipes for preserved sand pears and then I peeled and sliced them while the water was heating to sterilize my canning jars. I sort of winged it, adding sugar and a little water and lemon juice and a small bit of grated ginger and cinnamon to the mess and boiled those suckers down until there was a nice syrup and the pears were tender.
The big half pot of this concoction cooked down into four almost-full pints and I kettle-canned them and although that's a pitiful amount I think they'll be delicious.

The pears make beautiful pies. I can also imagine baked pears with blue cheese. 

It truly is a luxurious indulgence to spend hours making preserves like this. No one in the world NEEDS pear preserves and once you add in the cost of sugar you could probably buy them cheaper at the grocery store. But those four little jars give me a sense of accomplishment that no store-bought preserves ever will and I like to think of the early Florida women who, in the heat of the summer, canned the fruit that grew around here so that in winter their families would have a bit of sweetness to put on their daily biscuits or corn bread. 

So it's been a typical August day for me in North Florida. Hot, humid as fuck, laundry off the line, clean sheets on the bed, water-stained glass shower doors, hair still wet from a morning walk at 7:00 p.m., more pretty brown and green eggs in the wooden bowl on the counter, wild grapes fallen onto the sidewalk from the vines in the trees above, a little bit of fruit and history preserved in Ball jars. 

That's an abandoned palm tree beside an abandoned house three doors down from me if you count the church next door. Which I do because it has a door. 

Fun fact: I finally counted and there are NINE churches in the six mile drive to the west of me. To put this into perspective- there probably aren't thirty houses on that route. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Then And Now

When I drove my little Capri halfway across the country at the age of nineteen I had never driven farther than oh, perhaps a hundred miles or so. I look back on that experience with a bit of wonder. How did I get so brave?
But then I remember how desperate I was to get out of Colorado. I was living with a drug dealer and although he wasn't an unkind person, he had what, to be kind, I shall call quirks. He had a very good business going on and finally the cops were catching up to him. We had been warned that a sheriff's car had been parked down the street for a few nights running, watching cars come and go. So there was that. And I had lost any affection I might have had for the drug dealer. I had only moved in with him because my old roommmate, a girl I truly did like so much, had told me that my depression was too hard to live with and so she was moving in with someone else.
I do not blame her.
And this guy asked me to move in with him and so I did and at least he had a heated waterbed and I tolerated the constant playing of the Greatful Dead on his stereo for awhile but then things just got too much for me to handle and I had that sweet time with the boy in Winter Haven over Christmas break and he'd said those fateful words- If you hate Denver, you can move to Tallahassee and live with me. 
At that time in my life I was looking constantly for a man to protect me, to love me, to give me reason to live. It really was that simple. And so his words were heaven sent to my ears and I quit school and waited for the snow to melt enough for me to get the fuck out of Dodge and the drug dealer found a new girlfriend who looked startlingly like me and somehow we all shared the same apartment for awhile and a boy who was a friend of the drug dealer's truly was an angel and he babysat me, in a way, making sure that I was okay and when I finally packed up and left he was there in the early morning to wish me well and he gave me a few joints and off I went.
I have no idea what that boy's name was and I cannot remember what he looked like but he was just pure sweet and I am grateful for him.

I do want to write more about that time in my life, and I will. And that's a beginning or perhaps Part Two if we're to be honest. I think that the drug dealer is dead now and I heard that he was indeed arrested. I escaped that situation by the skin of my teeth and I am grateful for that too. My life would certainly not be what it is now if I had been busted, put in jail, had had to deal with my parents and bail money and lawyers and, and, and...
No. Just thank you Lord Jesus no.

All of this is probably why there was very little that any of my children did (that I knew about, at least and I know all I want to know, thank-you-very-much) made me completely crazy. Mostly my kids were good and some of them were beyond good but you know teenagers. I was able to be honest with them and talk to them about things coming not from a judgmental or preachy or freaked-out place but from a place of knowing exactly what it was like and also knowing that I went through it, I survived, and grew up and became their mama and a fairly upstanding citizen. There were even things that I went through or did that I am glad I went through and did. Illegal things, perhaps. Outrageous things. Dangerous things, even. Maybe. I am who I am because of those experiences and for me, because I started having children fairly early, the years of those experiences were short.
But I've often said that having my babies saved my life and this is true. Not just because being a mother made me step back in more caution and become responsible, which it did, but because the recurring depressions may well have had vastly different outcomes.
As a mother I not only had to be responsible, I had to be alive.

And today was a day I was glad I was alive. Because the weather forecast called for rain all day, Lily and I decided to go to Monticello and see Terez at the library and do our thing there. Which we did. Terez was glad to see us and we were glad to see him. Maggie played on the computers.

After that she played in the book room, putting stuffed animals in chairs and giving them books to read. I offered over and over to read books to her but she was too busy pretending. 

Lily and I checked out books and then we went to Wag the Dog which was filled with new treasures. Maggie got a baby doll- quite possibly the ugliest baby doll I've ever seen mostly because it has an umbilicus which looked unlike any umbilicus I've ever seen on a human baby. Or animal baby either, for that matter. Didn't bother Magnolia though. She loves her new baby. 

I found a precious little plate and bowl with this pattern on them. 

Mary had a little lamb. Could that be more perfect? Wouldn't it make a darling tattoo?
And a blue-gray linen tablecloth whose weight when I picked it up felt like pure goodness in my hands and which has a crocheted lace border around the edges.

It is hard to describe my love for things like this. They are beautiful to me in a way that I can't explain. Here it is on my back porch table.

We found Maggie tap shoes and Lily got her a dress. 

So a very good day at the thrift store. 

And then on to lunch we went and it was actually cool enough to sit outside and Maggie played with the blocks, keeping her baby nearby at all times. 

Oh, I can't wait for the Weatherfords to get back so that August and Levon can help build too. We had delicious lunches and then we drove back to Lloyd where Maggie got to play a little bit with her new carriage which she likes very much. 

When we walked into the house she said, "Mer, I love your house," and later on when she was sitting on my toilet she looked around at my bathroom with its pictures of the madonna and the baby shoes on the window frame and the mish-mash of rugs and the jewelry hanging off an old mirror and all of the stuff of it and she asked, "Who decorated your house?"

Which made me laugh. 

A three-year old who asks who decorated a house? 

"I did," I told her. "Except that Boppy decorated most of the Glen Den." That's where the deer heads and fishing trophies are. And beer steins collected in Europe when he played ball there and the TV and the toys and so forth. 

She nodded sagely. This all made sense to her. And then it was time to help her wipe her little bottom and she rested her head on my thighs as children do when you help them with their pottying and I thought of all of the times that those thighs have had children's heads resting on them while I wiped their butts and it felt right. 

How can I not be glad I moved from Colorado to Tallahassee? It has all led to this. 

It's raining. It's not burning-up hot. I'm cooking field peas I grew in the garden my husband and I tend. 

Time to make the rest of our supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What's Your Miracle?

I slept until nine o'clock this morning which is unheard of and I swear I was still recovering from being outside yesterday. I made the probably wise decision not to walk but did some chores around here, spending as little time in the heat as I could get away with. Hank and Rachel and Lily and I had made plans to meet in town for lunch and so we did. One of our favored Indian buffet restaurants has moved into a new location and we went to try it out. Everything was brand spanking new and as I said to Maggie when we went in to use the ladies' room, it even smelled new. Which is an excellent thing, especially in the ladies' room. The old location was funky for sure. Long, long ago it had been the home of a restaurant called The Catfish Pad and I still miss that place. Fried catfish, cheese grits, cole slaw and a thick slice of sweet onion. Heaven.
Anyway, the food was good and the company was better. Rachel brought two co-workers and we all talked and talked. You know what I like about my kids and their friends? They don't make me feel like an old lady. Maggie got a little impatient and for awhile she amused herself by going through my purse until I asked her to stop and then she started putting it on her head.

It would hide her face and then she'd let it fall and quick-quick, I'd take her picture. Does the light love Maggie or does she have her own? 

Both, probably. 

After we finally decided that we all needed to get on with our day, Hank and I stopped at a Goodwill. Maggie was the winner there. I got her two things that I think she will love. One is a little wicker doll carriage which may actually be ornamental but it's completely functional and she can roll her babies around in it. The other is something she won't be able to use for months but it's an almost hideously pink fake-fur vest that's as soft as all that other stuff they make these days which is is bizarrely soft and is probably poisonous to us and the planet. 

I'll keep the carriage here and August and Levon will like it too. 

It was great to spend a little time with Hank. I really enjoyed it. We had a good time looking at the things for sale, the bizarre, the useful, the ugly, the velvet painting. Hank found a few books and a pan and I got nothing for myself but had already scored today in that the two pairs of Crocs flip flops I'd ordered arrived. These flip flops are what I wear every day and I need them. They were on sale and ended up being cheaper than one pair with free shipping which of course probably means that they're discontinuing them and I have no idea what I'll be wearing on my feet when that happens. They look like this. 

I remember distinctly the first pair of flip flops I ever got. I may have been three or four and my main memory is that of my mother going out somewhere and me being afraid that the baby sitter would not be able to put them on my feet correctly after I got up from my nap. I made sure that before my mother left she placed them so that the left shoe was on the left and the right shoe was on the right. I knew that this mattered but I did not know yet how to determine left from right myself. I've been wearing flip flops ever since. I remember when they came from Japan in the flimsiest plastic bag imaginable with a thin plastic drawstring at the top. They were all the same although they came in different colors and probably cost about fifty cents. You can still buy those, I think. 100% rubber and fairly effective for protecting feet from sand spurs and broiling hot pavement. 

Speaking of broiling hot- it still is. No rain today, either. Everyone, and I mean everyone talks about the heat here right now. Store clerks, friends, random strangers. It is our shared experience. Somehow it feels hotter than it ever has, even if the temperatures don't actually reflect that although my car told me that it was 99 degrees outside this afternoon and I believe it. I used to make fun of that heat index thing but I've become to accept the truth of it. Feels like 109. 

Yes. Yes it does. 

All I've done today outside is to walk from parking lot to building and back to car, gather eggs and cut zinnias to bring in. At this point, I'm not complaining- I am in a sort of astonishment. 

May we get rain and lots of it soon. 

In the meantime, we are talking about going to the river on Saturday although I might just actually drive down there myself tomorrow. I'll see if Lily wants to come. Life is short and the river is a miracle. It would be a sin to deny experiencing that miracle now when we need it most. 

I'll take every miracle that comes my way. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Fever Dreams

And that's why I walk on White House Road when I can. The whole road does not look like that unfortunately, but enough of it does to make my heart rise up to the tops of those trees and beyond even in this sweltering heat.

There is beauty closer to the ground as well. I love the ditch ferns and the wildflowers, the tiny caves in the hard red clay banks that line the road where I am sure that many critters have their dens and where the roots of the trees that grow in that clay are exposed. 

I did three miles today which is not much but in this heat that's probably all I need to do. I'm pissed off because my Map My Walk app isn't functioning correctly. The milage is off. I've done that walk enough times to know my markers for my miles and it's telling me that I've walked a mile in thirteen minutes when I know it's only been, at the most, three quarters of a mile. I'm not a slow walker but I do not do thirteen-minute miles. Anyway, once again I survived.

When Mr. Moon cut up the pecan branch on Sunday I told him I'd clean up and clear the bed near the house where the branch had smashed a bunch of elephant ears. I decided to do that today and although the whole thing is probably about ten feet long and four feet wide it took me forever. Not because there was much to do but because this heat makes movement a sort of torture. I moved over to the camellia bed to pull up some GDF (god damn fucking) Beauty Bower and found myself not able to take one more step to kneel and pull one last sprout. It...was...just...too...much. Even as I left it in the dirt I knew I was being absurd. 

I did manage to wheel the garden cart to the burn pile and dump it and then I had to come in and cool off again before I could go back out and pick green beans and field peas. 

And that was IT. 

Oh, well, besides hanging laundry and then bringing it in.

Well, at least we're not in a complete drought but we got no rain today. I expect the hurricane lilies will be popping up soon with their preternaturally fast-growing stalks, their alien bloom. 

Turns out that the boys' bus ride situation was not restricted to their bus. Here's the headline from the Tallahassee Democrat this morning:

I texted the boys this afternoon to see how school was going which engendered this text conversation with Lily. 

And as Lily says, at least that means he likes it. 

I love how he says that I don't need to know. Haven't heard from Gibson yet but I hope he's feeling Gucci gang about it all too. He has a male teacher this year and I like that idea. Lily has signed him up for boys' hip-hop dance classes and also Maggie for ballet. Maggie had been begging to take ballet and now she will. It would make my heart so happy if both of them loved those classes. When I was a little girl I wanted nothing more in the world than to take ballet but there were no classes in Roseland or Sebastian and by the time we moved to Winter Haven there was way too much going on for anyone to have time to make that happen. 

Oh well. 

I doubt I'd trade the dirt roads and river docks, jungle and Tarzan dreams of my childhood for ballet classes. 

And that's about it. Mr. Moon is on his way home. I need to get dinner started. 

I'm sorry I have no deep thoughts to share but it's just too GDF hot to think much at all. 

Your intrepid Florida reporter.

Love...Ms. Moon

Monday Report

I am almost tempted to start a dream blog.
Last night's dream was excellent. I was in a movie. Now how this happened is a mystery to me. I had a pretty good role, too, although I have no idea what it was. I never saw a script. But everyone was so nice and although things were pretty chaotic I didn't have any responsibilities when it came to dealing with it. They had pros to do that! I felt very safe there. I lost my purse but I was never worried it was stolen and then I found it. Guess who was in the movie? Go on- guess. I'll wait.

Cloris Leachman! She was playing a character called The Chiffon Lady. Again- I'm clueless.

Guess who else was in it?
Oh, you know- BILL MURRAY!
I was going to be in some scenes with him but unfortunately, the dream ended before that happened. He was a jolly sort, though.

And perhaps because of that dream I was in a very good mood today. I had several of those "I feel happy" moments. And all I did was to take a walk on White House Road and go to Publix and iron. Not at Publix. I came home to do that. At Publix I got the lagniappe treat of seeing Lily and Lauren and Maggie. Maggie asked me what I was doing there. I told her I was shopping for some things I needed.
"Do you need catfood?" she asked. I told her that I did not but that I did need pickled okra because her brothers ate all of mine.
Our friend Penny who works at that Publix had given her some change. Penny always gives the kids a little bit of change. That's what she does. Maggie showed me her dimes and pennies.
"I love Penny," she said.
"I know you do," I said. "She is very sweet."
I talked to Penny a little later and she said that she'd called Maggie Maggs and said, "Is that all right? Can I call you Maggs?"
Maggie said, "No. I am Magnolia June Hartmann."
I guess that even if you give Maggie money you are not allowed to call her Maggs.
Noted.
Speaking of Magnolia June Hartmann, this picture came up in my FB memories as the most loved post of 2016.

How glorious that baby girl was! And she still is.

Lily reports that Owen and Gibson's bus took an hour to get them to school this morning and two hours to get them home. This is a bit disturbing in that their school is approximately ten minutes away from their house.
I suppose that first-day kinks will be worked out. Still. That's a long day for two young guys. Luckily the school kept e-mailing the parents to let them know what was going on. I remember once when Jessie's bus was ultra-late and I almost had a heart attack. You'd think that by the fourth child I would have been a bit more sanguine about such things but no. I was not even though I had talked to the principal on the phone who assured me that all was well. This was pre-texting. I honestly do remember how incredibly panicked I got.

And that's the news from Lloyd. We got a short but lovely downpour this afternoon. It thundered mightily and then came the rain. It is actually a little cooler now which is so good. It was 98 when I drove home from Publix at 2:30. It's definitely take-more-than-one-shower-a-day weather and it's also a light-a-candle-to-the-gods-of-air conditioning situation. It's just sticky and nasty. That's all there is to it.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Keeping It Holy

Quite possibly the most boring day ever. The most constructive thing I've done all day long is to pot up a begonia tuber.
Seriously.
It's just too dang hot to even consider doing anything outside although Mr. Moon, who is not quite human, chain-sawed and cut up that huge pecan branch that fell and hauled it to the burn pile in his truck. By the time he was finished with that and had fired up the the huge mound of downed branches, bamboo, and trimmings he was exhausted and had sweated completely through his clothes.
"Honey, you need to..." I said before he cut in.
"Don't even say it," he said.
"I was just going to say you need to cool off," I said meekly.
"Okay," he said. I mean, that was pretty obvious.
He took a shower and had some lunch and sat in his chair and didn't do a whole lot for the rest of the day THANK GOD!
Meanwhile, I've read a few articles in the New Yorker and taken a small nap.
I can't even remember being this useless but it's okay. It is, of course, the Sabbath. I have GOD's permission.

So. One of the things I liked best about not being on that anti-depressant was not having those cinematic dreams of interminable length. I hadn't had one of them in months. Then came the anxiety and then I got back on the pills, and hello dreams! Same themes. Huge house I need to clean or do something to. Running from bad people. Taking care of people. It's insane.
The other night I dreamed it was Christmas Eve and I was in a car with my stepfather/abuser and demanded to be let out which led to me having to walk home. For awhile I was wearing some golden high, high-heels which had semi-magical properties when it came to striding in them. I was forced to discard them though when the heels snapped off.
I had to walk through areas with criminals who tried to chase and attack me. I got away. Then there were lots and lots of homeless people and I felt terribly guilty. I never did make it home as far as I know. I may still be wandering around on an eternal journey for all I know.
On one level, these dreams are interesting and if I care to, I can easily find meaning in them arising from my life, my demons, my own journey. So, yeah. That's okay. But I wake up from them exhausted and they are so vivid and real that I carry the air and mood of them with me all day if not for days.
I find it so telling that these medications (this isn't the only anti-depressant I've had the dreams on) definitely affect my brain and how it functions. I suppose this should be a bit scary for me but for some reason, it's not. There are a hell of a lot of things that have and do affect how my brain functions, many of them which happened far before I was aware of even having a brain, before I could speak, and not under my control or with my permission. Some of these things have had positive effects on me but many have had devastating effects and if I can take a tablet that can slightly alter things in my cognition which make it possible for me to live with less fear, with less pain- I'll take it. They can literally mean the difference between having a fairly normal, albeit quirky life and having a life that I find almost impossible to function in.
But damn. Those dreams.

I guess I'll shrug off my complete sloth and go make some supper. Mangrove snapper tonight. A cauliflower gratin? Maybe. We shall see how it goes in the kitchen. I pulled the third to last leek in my garden and I'll be using that.

And by the way- my giant lady spider has disappeared but a smaller girl has taken her place. I am glad that I got to spend so much time watching that big golden orb weaver. She inspired me with her tenacity and industriousness. I am sure that I will feel the same way soon about the new one who already shows signs of being tidy and determined.

There is so much life around me if I just take the time to look.

I think the whole world is probably like that.

Love...Ms. Moon

I Sing The Body Electric. Or Eclectic. Or Something

I've been quite housewifey today. Mr. Moon got up early, early to go fishing on the Gulf and I got up hours later to leisurely come alive and eat some breakfast and let the chickens out and do all that normal stuff. I took trash and recycle to the trash place and dropped by the post office and started laundry and went out and picked green beans and field peas and did a little weeding. I got a lot of field peas.

Some of them are already dried in the shell as you can see which rather defeats the purpose of fresh field peas but la-di-dah, they will be good anyway. I am noticing a lot of sweet potato vines which is funny because I haven't planted sweet potatoes in three years but the ones I never dug up have sent forth new shoots over the past few seasons and who knows? I may actually get a little bit of a harvest this year. 

I did some sweeping and tidying and hung my laundry on the line. I sent a long, chatty email to an old friend and I'm not sure what all I did but I did talk to Maggie whose mother dialed (dialed?) the phone for her. 

"What are you doing, Mer?" she asked. 

"I am putting clean sheets on my bed," I told her. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, hanging out at my house."

She is getting to be quite the conversationalist. She also told me that they went to the lake and fed the ducks and that they had had a good time. Then she insisted that the boys say hello to me which they did although they did not seem to have a great deal of enthusiasm about it. And who can blame them? They had about 24 hours worth of MerMer yesterday and that's enough for anyone. But they told me they loved me and that's always worth hearing. Then Maggie got back on the phone and told me that tonight she is going to be a shark in the ocean but a good shark. I told her that that sounded like a great idea and asked if she was going to eat fish. 

"Yes," she said. 

"That will be delicious!" I told her. 

Yesterday Jessie sent me a little video of Levon reading "Gus and Me", the book by Keith Richards about his grandfather. I think that Levon is quite taken with the book and he calls it the "song" book. I so wish I could figure out how to get the video from my devices to YouTube so that I can post it here but I've not been able to do that. It's the sweetest video. He sings as he looks at the pages and points out the guitar and the saxophone in it. His own little song is precious.
Last night Jessie wrote me that when August got into his bath he said, "Oh, this feels like honeydew."
I am not sure what that means but it sounds like something quite enjoyable.

Here's a picture she sent me of the brothers.

Puppies. 

I really do enjoy having days like today where I can get things done. Sweeping spider webs off of doors, cutting new zinnias to replace the faded ones, replacing a broken string to rehang a wind chime. Washing a quilt, a rug, some towels. Moving slowly from one task to another, listening to a book as I go. 

And then I sat down on the couch and shelled some of those peas and realized how much I love my body by watching a terrible British show called "Botched Up Bodies" as I shelled. The show is about people who have had terrible outcomes from getting plastic surgery and other cosmetic procedures and the extremes they have to go through to get them fixed. The fixes vary in their results and it all makes me so glad that I never succumbed to the promise of a perfect stomach, a perkier set of breasts, a more youthful pair of lips. My body has been through pregnancy and childbirth and breastfeeding- all a miracle. It has carried me thousands of miles of walking. It used to be a dancing body and I really was a very good dancer. It has allowed me to dig and to plant, to weed and to hoe. I have carried babies on my hips since I was twelve years old and although it has caused me great despair at times due to my ridiculous ideas of its imperfections and although my joints scream at me daily now, it has also brought me much pleasure. I have never once fainted. I have been, for the most part, ridiculously healthy. Knock wood. All of my parts, from womb to lips have worked quite well. 

And I tell you what- although I look like someone who has spent sixty-five years using her body and spending way too much time in the sun, it's all right. 

Mostly. 

I still, to be honest, despair at times. But overall, I am mostly grateful. 

And I will sleep well tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe

More pictures to go with the post below.

And the winner of all photographs ever made...

Oh, Magnolia June. How I love thee. 

In Which I Have Adventures With My Babies

Lord, child, it's been a day. And a night. All went very, very well except for the small amount of time I could not find Maggie this morning and the kitchen door was open meaning she'd taken off somewhere and I had a slight heart attack. Turns out she'd gone to sit in my car and was quite surprised that I'd been upset when I couldn't find her.
Children.
Anyway, that picture is what Magnolia June looks like wearing a pair of her grandfather's boots. They are almost as long as she is tall.

We had a very good evening. The spaghetti and meat balls were terrific and so was the bread AND the purple cows. For those of you who do not know, purple cows are the traditional spend-the-night dessert at MerMer and Bop's house. They are made of sherbet, ginger-ale, and grape juice. Last night's even had a little whipped cream on top. Only the best for my grands.

Then there were baths AND showers and as bedtimes always go, things got a bit chaotic. Maggie wanted to sleep in what she calls "Levon's bed" which is the Pack'n'Play and she demonstrated that she fit into it and I said, "Well, why not?" and after stories and kisses and some protesting from Maggie the lights went out and she only got up a few times. Unbeknownst to me she ended up in bed with her brothers and they both complained that they did not get very good sleep due to that. We were discussing this with Lily later on today and she said, "Well, I slept like a baby," and Owen said, "I slept ON a baby."

They woke up at a fairly reasonable hour and Mr. Moon had already left to go to the gym and to work and Maggie began immediately wanting to go outside and find Jack so that she could pet him and she wanted to go check for eggs but I convinced her to wait a bit and she helped me unload the dishwasher and I started the breakfast and we did go let the chickens out but we didn't see Jack. Breakfast was eaten, bacon and sweet potato and banana pancakes, and cleaned up too and by the time everything had been accomplished around here that needed to be accomplished and all of us were dressed and Maggie had been lost and then found and laundry dealt with and so on and so forth, it was 10:30 and we drove over to their house where we got in Lily's car and went to town to buy school shoes which is now a tradition. Owen is no longer able to wear kid-sizes but wears a man's size 8. 

Hoo-boy. 

Everyone found shoes they liked, even Maggie although she's not going to go to school this year, and we went to lunch at a Chinese/Fusion buffet joint (not Tan's) and it was pretty good. You can't beat a place where you can get sushi AND fried chicken AND macaroni and cheese AND delicious hot and sour soup AND boiled shrimp AND about a million other things. 

Then- off to the museum! 

I had somehow left my phone on my car in Lily's yard so couldn't take any pictures but Lily took some and sent me these. 

It may be hard to see but this is the giant armadillo display. I love that thing. Nothing enchants me more than the idea of an armadillo the size of a Volkswagen (which some were) trundling and snuffling through the Florida palmettos. The child in me thinks that maybe, just maybe, there are still a few of these prehistoric beasts that are just so shy and wily that they've never been spotted.

My granddaughter was fascinated by this one too. It occasionally moves its head from right to left and back again and she waited patiently for it to do so.

Here's Owen and Gibson at the helm of the river boat. 

Here we are, looking at a diorama of early Americans and a village of theirs. I love a diorama. They have some life-sized ones there too and I just want to stand and stare at them forever. 

They have a loft-room in the museum called "Grandmother's Attic" where they keep a lot of old stuff that isn't part of the museum's collection but which kids can play with. This is always the favorite part for children. 

Here's Magnolia sitting at a desk with a telephone and a calculator. Owen especially loved that. He said that he wished I had an attic with things like this. I pointed out that I do have old phones and they play with them all the time and that I was sorry but I'd thrown out the calculator although come to think of it, it may be around here somewhere. Gibson sat at a switchboard operator's desk and he and Owen communicated vital information. 

I haven't gotten the picture of the kids with the mastodon skeleton yet but when I do I'll add a lagniappe. I just love that mastodon. I stood and studied it for quite awhile before moving on and threw it a kiss before I went to the next exhibit. 

Here's another one of my favorite displays. 

Treasures rescued from shipwrecks. Did you know that back a long time ago there were people who lived on the coasts of Florida who made their living by selling what they scavenged and salvaged from the beaches? Not so much Spanish treasure but mostly practical items and building materials from the wrecks of ships. Hurricanes ain't no joke. But look at that jewelry! I want all of it! I also want the china and also the pottery made by the native Americans that they've found. 

What a wonderful time! The website for the museum can be found HERE. 

After about an hour, I hit the wall. I was exhausted and frankly, everyone else was too. 

We did a quick stop in the gift shop but nothing was purchased as had been made clear before we stepped foot into the place. There were protestations but no tantrums so I consider that a great success. 

We drove on back to Lily's house and I got my car and came home and almost immediately fell on my bed and took an hour's nap. Fuck the chores I haven't done today- they will be here to do tomorrow. 

It was a great day and I am most grateful for it. I had so much fun with my grandchildren. So many hugs, so many laughs, so much excitement and sweetness. 

It is approximately 208 degrees F here with a heat index of approximately 4009 but so far my chickens have not roasted in their feathers and the creeks are not boiling. El Nino has disappeared which means that the chance of hurricanes has just increased by a large measure and they are predicting that the rest of the season, which lasts until November 30, will be very active. I saw that there were tornadoes in Europe and I can't even bring myself to discuss what's going on with the polar ice. It's just too damn horrifying.

But for right now, this very day, I have been able to stick my head in the sand and love my life and the parts of it that I love the most are so deeply genuine and authentic and so deeply felt in my heart that I am glad to be alive, glad to be who I am. 

These are not days I take lightly. Not now. Not any time. Not ever.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Little Overnight

This is what's happening at my house right now. That and two boys, one of whom just got a very cool hair cut and one of whom sent me a picture of the Rolling Stones AND a hibiscus today via text, are playing wii with their grandfather and also, meatballs are cooking and bread is rising.
They are going to be spending the night and tomorrow we may go do our annual back-to-school shoe shopping and then go to the museum downtown which we have been meaning to go to all summer. School starts on Monday so it's now or never.
Or, at least not for awhile.
They have one of the mastodon skeletons they pulled out of Wakulla Springs there and no matter how many times I see it I get the shivers and feel awe and wonder. They also have Spanish treasure pulled from the depths of Florida's coast and a lot of other stuff. I like that museum.
We shall see and I am sure a lot of this will depend on just how much sleep I get tonight.
I did take a nap before the kids got here and I'm sure that helped. I took a walk this morning and I waited until way too late and it was too fucking hot. It took me all day to cool down and that is the literal truth.
Here's what heat looks like.

Torture! 

I must like torture. 

It had to be ninety out there and I missed the hours of shade. But can you see the nicely trimmed grass? 

I met my new across-the-street neighbor. When our neighbor Pat died, her daughters put her sweet little house up for sale and a young man named Jose (whom I have not met) bought it and he and his cousin Eddie have been working like crazy repairing and painting and getting it ready for Eddie and his wife to move in as they are going to rent it. Eddie told me all of this today when I took some eggs over to him. He promised that when his wife makes tacos, they will bring me some of those. 

Whoa!!!!

I'm excited. 

Eddie just seemed as sweet as could be. I wonder if they have children. I did not ask. 

Speaking of children, I better get back in the house and see what Ms. Magnolia is up to. Oh wait! She's just come out onto the porch and is now running to go pet Jack who is on a chair under the Bradford pears. She loves Jack. She does not love Scratch, aka Maurice. 

Oh Lord. Now the child is running towards the hen house. I better go see what she's doing. 

I'll report in tomorrow. I'm sure it will be a long day with plenty to talk about. 

MASTODON! 

Love...Ms. Moon