Ten Years Old, Y'all. How Can This Even Be?

This is what Owen looked like this morning when he woke up on his tenth birthday.
Ten years old.
Can you believe it?
Some of you have been visiting here that long. Or longer. You remember these pictures.

And the beautiful day they were taken. 

When my baby became a mother. When Owen made me a grandmother. When that which had begun so many years before when Mr. Moon looked at me with a twinkle in his eye became a sort of fulfillment which I never could have even imagined. 

Ten years since that day. And here he is, a very tall boy with his own life, his own style, his own needs and wants and abilities and talents and struggles and all of the stuff that makes us who we are. 

Here's more of what he looks like today. 

His mama went and had lunch with him at school today.
So did his sister.

Could there be a better big brother? 

He had a baseball game this evening and I actually went. Because it's his birthday. I am NOT a sports granny and I was not a sports mama. I admit it. I went to all of the kids sporting events but it was not, to be honest, my favorite part of being a mother. But because it's his birthday, I went to Owen's game. He did great and his team won 13-5 and I survived the heat and the...sports stuff. 

But ten years old! I had to be there today. 

And the team sang him Happy Birthday and Lily brought cupcakes for the team and Jason and Gibson worked in the concession stand and Maggie, who was practically raised at the ball park, played and bought her own hot dog and ran around and was happy and when I took her to the bathroom she asked me to take off my sunglasses, which I did, and she said, "Oh. Yes. You are the real Mermer."

The name her brother gave me. 

I find it very reassuring that my granddaughter makes absolutely sure that the person taking her to the restroom is indeed who they say they are. 

I swear to you- it never really occurred to me that I would live long enough to have a grandson, much less a ten-year old grandson. And yet, here we are. 

And because Gibson is a part of this sweetness too, even though it is not his birthday, I want to share this picture that Lily sent me. 

THIS is Gibson. 

Tomorrow is Lily's birthday. In just a few hours it will have been thirty-four years since I started labor with her. As with every laboring mother, there was truly only one thought on my mind- that this baby be safely born and the travail be over and I would hold him or her in my arms. The sweetest, most miraculous moment of life. 

At least for me. 

I never thought as those hours passed where I was convinced that it would never end, that labor was life, my life, as my baby and I both struggled and strained to bring her to this world, that one day I would be holding her child. 

And yet, that's exactly what happened. 

I birthed an amazing human that day and now she has given birth to three other amazing humans. I often say that birth is the most everyday pragmatic miracle there can be. I stand by those words. 

And I am so grateful, so stunned even now, to have been a part of that. 

Thank you, Lily and Jason. Thank you Owen. You absolutely completed the circle of so much. 

And I love you more than you will ever know unless there comes a day when you hold your first grandchild in your arms. I hope with all of my heart that you know that joy because it is a joy like none other. I want you to know you brought me that. 

Love...Mermer 

And This Is Where We Are

I never watch the news. I just don't. But today when I heard that the barbecued intestine was going to have a press conference I determined that hell yes, I was going to watch the fucking thing. Every fucking moment of it.
And I did.
It was exactly as I had expected it would be. He rambled, he bragged, he jumped from Iran to the border wall. He repeated the lie about having mountain climbers (the best mountain climbers!) testing it and it was the best (the best!) at being unclimbable.
Has he not seen the videos of Mexican kids climbing the wall for fun?
He called the news media "fake" over and over again.
He called this newest whistle-blower report another witch hunt.
He claimed that "senators" had done the same thing he was being accused of but the difference is- he didn't do it!
He bragged some more. He listed all of the nations he'd had meetings with in the past three days at the UN Conference. He bragged about the fact that China wants to make a deal now but maybe, maybe not. He bragged about the economy. He bragged about jobs. He bragged about how great African Americans, Asian Americans, and Hispanic Americans are doing. He bragged over and over again about the 2016 election.
He insinuated that there are some "interesting things" about the whistle blower him- or herself. Does he even know who the whistle blower is? Who knows?
He was belligerent, and subdued at the same time. I think that for once he may actually realize that he's screwed the pooch.
You know what he did not mention? Not once?
The UN Climate Change Summit and the reports that came out of that. And to tell you the truth- this bullshit about Donald Trump will eventually be history but if we don't do something and do it fast, there isn't going to be anyone to read that history and no matter what we do, as Greta Thunberg said- Change is coming. 
Change is here.

Oh Jesus we are fucked.

As Trump kept ragging on about the economy and how great it is and blah, blah, blah all I could think about was Greta telling the World Leaders at the UN summit this week that all they talk about is money and economic growth. "How DARE you?!" she almost screamed at them.
Yes. How dare we?
And how dare Trump claim that all he cares about is the American people when it is quite clear that he doesn't care about the American people on any level whatsoever except that they vote for him in next year's election?

HAS he finally screwed the pooch? Well, I give that a little better odds than I do that he'd ever do anything about climate change except to ensure that it happens even faster.

On a personal level, I had a very nice day. I probably added to the carbon level handsomely. I drove to town again (but in my Prius, people!) to meet Lily and Jessie at the library to go to toddler story hour. I missed the part where they sang Happy Birthday to August and I'm so sad about that but Lily sent me a picture.

There he is, holding up four fingers to indicate how old he is about to be. 

After the library we went to Costco where we bought things for the Big Birthday Bonanza. 

The shopping was a fiesta in itself with some good samples and lots of cousin play. 

Lily had a small breakdown in front of the plastic cups because you can buy 240 of them at Costco for less than you can probably buy 40 at the regular grocery store but WHO NEEDS 240 PLASTIC CUPS? 

None of us. 

I told her I'd buy the plastic cups at Publix in a reasonable amount. 

And here you go- we are going to buy plastic cups because...they are easy. There they are! Already made and bagged up and priced to sell! 

And the planet dies. 

And then we went to lunch. Yes, all I do is go to lunch. It's true. 

How I wish that when I was a young mother I could have gone to lunch now and then. It would have been precious. And honestly- nothing in the world makes me any more happy than going to lunch with my babies. 

Maggie is going through an especially Mama-Love moment in time. She can't get enough of her mother. It's so beautiful. 

Her mama likes it too. 

And yet, she lets her Mer take her to the bathroom and when she got to ride in my car all the way to the restaurant which was approximately a five-hundred yard drive, she was so happy. 

"I so 'cited to ride in your car, Mer!" She is simply a very loving child. 

And in other big news, a very close friend of ours has been selected to be on the jury of a HUGE Tallahassee trial that has had nationwide attention. I can't and won't say anything more than that but this is crazy and weird and amazing all at once. The very big downside is that she's not going to be compensated for her time enough to pay her bills which is bad. Her employer only gives a certain number of paid days off and you only get fifteen dollars a day for jury duty and this case may have up to a month of testimony alone. 

But what a story she will have to tell. 

I gotta go cook supper. 

The next few months are going to be historical in many ways. The next few years are going to be possibly the most telling and important of human history and that is terrifying. 

Breathe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Reasons To Live

I think the butterfly is a common buckeye but I could be wrong. It surely was intent on sipping as much nectar as possible from that zinnia.

I have had a day of it. "It" being the blues, the saddies, the downs, the fuck-this-shit's, and also a little of the anxiety thrown in for good measure. I always tell myself when I feel this way when I wake up that it'll pass and might even become one of the best days or at least a good one.
And sometimes that happens.
Sometimes it doesn't.
I had to go into Tallahassee to pick up a birthday present for Owen that I'd had shipped. I'd had it sent to the Target near FSU by mistake and so I drove down that way for the first time in forever. Every time I do that I think of myself in 1982, twenty-eight years old with two kids, a divorce behind me, in nursing school. I'd have to get my babies up so early and get them to the preschool way the hell out west of town and then get to my own classes by eight in the morning. It was not easy. And leaving my children was a sort of hell although they loved that school, for the most part, and now my brother has worked there for thirty years or something crazy like that. It's a sweet place. But it was still hard. Everything was hard. Enrolling in school, figuring out childcare, finding a house in town to move into, re-learning to take notes and how to study. Nursing school's no joke and the sciences you have to take are daunting. All of this and having to deal with my ex. We had separated and even divorced but we weren't yet entirely cut asunder. I felt so much guilt for breaking up our family and I don't know that he felt much guilt about his part in the situation but he missed having a family too. I know he did. I think he even missed me. But eventually we worked that out for good and forever and there are a few stories involved there that even now I can't write about. And if I thought that leaving Hank and May at their preschool was hard, letting them go off with their father for two nights a week truly almost killed me. I had been a 24/7 mama to both of them since birth and the nights they'd spent away from me were few and far between. But I knew that no matter what, my children needed to be a part of their father's lives and he needed to be a part of theirs. That was just the truth of it. I refused to do what had been done to me (probably out of necessity) and have their father removed entirely from their existence. To deal with the pain of separation though I had to completely shut down a part of myself when they went to their Dad's in order not to go completely insane. And trust me- I was close enough to the border of that country to be able to spit across the divide between with ease.
In fact, I was straddling the world of sane and in- pretty precariously as it was. As might be expected I went through a terrible bout of depression and I shudder to think about what would have happened if I had not had my children to be responsible to and for.
But it all worked out! I made the best friends in nursing school and we studied and we partied and I had other friends who were so close to me and when I met Mr. Moon he really did not know what to do with all of the women in my life. He went through a lot of testing. And there was no way I was going to shove my ladies out the door just because a man had come along.
I made it clear that they were there first and he got it and eventually he was accepted by all of them and even loved dearly by some of them.
I have to say it was probably harder for him to jump that hurdle than it was for him to gain the trust of the children. He was so down home about everything and didn't push himself as a daddy but his own father had told him that if he was falling in love with a woman with children he was going to have to fall in love with those children too and he did.
Hank and May have a dad and they have a daddy Glen and they love and are loved by both.
And I graduated from nursing school and walked to get my diploma married, and pregnant with Lily. I studied for my licensing exams with a huge belly and managed to pass.
Still, this was not the "and they lived happily ever after" part. It took years for me to work out some of my crazy. Years and counseling and a survivor group and way more patience and tolerance from my husband than any man should have to put up with.

So I guess being down by the university brought all of that back a little bit and I tried to buy a rug at Ross but when I got to the check-out line I knew I just could not deal with it and put the rug back and walked out the door.

And I haven't been good for shit the rest of the day and I swear, if this heat doesn't break soon, I will. Today it went from something like 64 degrees this morning to 96 degrees this afternoon. That's cruel.

I'm hoping tomorrow will be a better day. Lily and Jessie and I have talked about going to Monticello to see Terez and let the kids play in the library for awhile. I would like to do that. I actually met Lily and Jason and Maggie for lunch when I was in town and Maggie's kisses were everything. Grandchildren and their love can bring me back from the brink better than anything.

And I've sent a deposit for our anniversary lodging at the Cabana house in Roseland. So I have that to look forward to. This. I have this to look forward to.

We're talking about taking the little boat and using it to putter about on the Sebastian and Indian Rivers. There's a dock right there that the owner says we could tie up to. 

So that's all good. 

And tonight there will be sleep. 

How are YOU? 

I'd love to know. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I Face A Fear And Get A Gift Card

My favorite picture of the day. Lily and Jason and Maggie were at a lawyer's office (don't worry- it's all good stuff) and that's what our darling girl was up to. Or, down to. Or, under to.
I love those little legs. Those strong and sturdy little legs and I love the strong and sturdy girl they support so well.

Rachel called out a lunch for today and Jessie and the boys and Lily and Maggie and Hank and Rachel got to go. Me too. I hadn't left Lloyd since Friday so it was a good thing. I took a walk this morning and got a few chores done, took a shower, dressed and went to town. We met up at Jason's Deli where we all ate salad bar except for the kidlings. August and Levon ate pasta, supposedly. Mostly I think they ate crackers. And ice cream. Maggie loves the cream of broccoli soup there so she got a cup of that. And ate crackers. And ice cream.
As usual we ate leisurely and then we moved outside and talked for awhile. Here's Hank holding some babies.

August is fascinated by Uncle Hank these days. He always wants to see his tattoos. He also likes to go through my purse but that's mostly just because he's looking for mints and gum which grandmothers are required by law to keep in their pocketbooks. (Remember when they were pocketbooks?) We're also supposed to carry Kleenex in those little packages but I don't have any. Occasionally I'll grab a wad of unused napkins off a table and tuck those into my purse but I haven't yet reached the Kleenex stage. 

Anyway, Jessie and Lily needed to make a few plans for the Big Birthday Bonanza happening next Sunday so the rest of us went out to Hank's car and searched it for things the kids would like. It ended up well, despite the fact that the Hoarder's Delight box still hadn't been put back in. Levon got a little purple bear that squeaks when you mash it as well as a ping pong ball which especially thrilled him. Maggie chose a pad of paper that says, "Somebunny loves you" on each page with a picture of a rabbit. I gave her a little pack of crayons that we'd gotten in the restaurant that the kids hadn't used but that I'd put in my pocket and she was thrilled. August got one of those things you can hang around your neck to put an ID badge in. Hank put a quarter in it for him. This was indeed a major prize. So all the kids were thrilled but the mamas still weren't done so Hank gave August a plastic bag and instructed him to pick up trash on a little grassy area which August diligently did. He was into it. Hank comes up with the best things for kids to do. I think part of that is because he retains his sense of what childhood was like and besides that, he always came up with the best things for kids to do when he was a child. 

All of the kids wanted to hang out with Hank because he was the most fun. 

Guess what? All of the kids still want to hang out with Hank because he's still the most fun. Which explains a lot about why his trivia is so popular. He uses that imagination and intelligence he was born with along with his sense of fun and joy to make his living and I can't think of anything much cooler than that. 

And all of that was the main part of my day and then I ran errands, remembering when I was on the east side of town that I had something I had to pick up on the west side of town so had to backtrack and after all of that I went to Publix where...I got a flu shot. 

Getting flu shots as a child may have been what started my horrible fear of all things medical and they had to get three people to hold me down to give me one when I was a little girl. I have no idea why I was so very, very frightened but I was. So I have never gotten a flu shot as an adult, even though shots don't bother me at all any more. But last winter when everyone in the family got the flu except for the smart ones who got a flu shot, I decided that this year I was getting one. 

Fuck it. I'm not going through that shit again. 

And besides that- you can get one for free at Publix. And not only free but they GIVE you a $10.00 gift card! So not getting one is pretty stupid and today was going to be the day and I did it. I filled out all of the paperwork and had to wait for the pharmacist to give it to me and honestly- I barely felt it. It was a total non-event. 

Then they gave me my gift card and I did my shopping and of course I forgot to use my gift card but I've tucked it in my wallet by my debit card and I'll use it next time. It's not like I won't be going back to Publix. 

If this was a story my fear of medical stuff would now all be magically cured but this is not a story, it's real life and getting that shot didn't do a thing as far as I can tell to make me feel any better about going to a doctor. Just the thought still gives me shivers. 

But maybe I won't get the flu.

We shall see, won't we? 

Let's talk tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Black Beans- Good! DT- Bad

Mr. Moon just got home a little while ago. He had a great time in Tennessee with his old friend and his family and I'm glad to have him home. He's going to get some of the black beans I made yesterday. I wanted a bowl and knew that by today they'd be even better. This is the recipe that I got from the New York Times cooking app and it's so good that it's worth the cost of the entire app. That's my opinion, anyway. I thought I'd posted the recipe but I can't seem to find where I did, if I did, which I probably didn't. The name of the recipe is Best Black Bean Soup and it just is. As always, I love to read the remarks left on the site of the recipe and of course lots of people wrote in about how THIS isn't how you make black bean soup but THIS is, and then proceed to give their own recipes but even though I have no problem with altering a recipe to suit your own taste, in this case I barely change a thing and wouldn't. It's just that good.
Here's what a bowl of it looked like before I ate it. A little messy but real.

I'd put chopped avocado and green onions and tomatoes on it with some balsamic vinegar and it was pretty much heaven. 

Here's a link to the recipe.

You may get firewalled but you may not. You can also try googling "Best Black Bean Soup" and see if that'll get you there. And of course, if you have the money and the inclination, the app is worth it, in my opinion. I get a lot of inspiration there. 

I don't know if yesterday's post got me all talked out or what but I'm not feeling very inspired today. I haven't had a lot of energy although I did get a few things done. The chickens have clean nests and the bed has clean sheets and I took everything out of the refrigerator and wiped it down and now it's all sparkly again. I still think of that refrigerator as brand new but it was getting sort of messy as refrigerators do. It ended up being a National Holiday for the chickens because I threw a lot of stuff out. Well, not that much but a lot for twelve chickens. They got many tasty treats like mozzarella that should have been eaten two weeks ago and crackers that have been lurking in a back corner that no one is ever going to eat. 

But chickens will! 

So they were happy little dinosaurs. I'll be glad when they stop molting and start laying again. I got exactly one egg today and it wasn't even in a nest but up on a little shelf where one of them sleeps. I could keep chickens for a hundred years and not understand exactly how they think. 

And so that's about it, I guess. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Which is fine with me. 

I'd be jumping up and down with excitement over the fact that it would appear that Trump has finally done it this time, enlisting Ukraine to get him some dirt on Joe Biden but how many times has it looked as if finally, FINALLY the man will be brought down? And then wasn't? Wasn't it Reagan they used to call the Teflon president? Haha! Oh god, how I disliked him and thought him a bumbling fool and then George Bush came along and pushed the bar even lower and I thought that surely he was the worst president imaginable and now I almost look back on those days with nostalgia.

Not really. Well, sort of. 

After Trump got elected after saying what he said about grabbing women by the pussy I've just had to realize that I don't live in the country I thought I lived in and that lesson has been pounded into my head like John Henry pounded steel into rock over and over again. 

It's to the point that I can't even put it all on Trump. Let's face it- the man is obviously in the throes of dementia. He cannot construct a sentence that makes sense. And as they say, dementia just makes a person more of who they always were. That may or may not be true but with Trump it seems to be. A racist, sexist, narcissist. 

But supposedly there are people in the senate and house that do have their wits about them and why they're allowing this travesty of an administration to continue is beyond me. 

I'm done. I'm going to go stir the black beans I've got reheating on the stove. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It's All A Sacred Space

Liberace and some of his ladies decided to hang out on the porch today and while they were there the rooster stood on a chair and opened his beak wide and crowed magnificently. He's a pretty bird but he doesn't have shit for tail feathers. He definitely did not get the gene for that. Right before that crowing, Darla got on the table and pecked at the almost invisible crumbs I'd left from eating my breakfast there. I've almost lived on the back porch today. It's been cool enough and I haven't had a whole lot of inspiration to get much done and some days are just like that.
I did some laundry and worked out in the yard for about an hour, mostly pulling rice paper plants which is an unpleasant thing to do because when disturbed they emit a sort of fine dust which you can actually feel in your mouth from breathing it in and after awhile you find yourself coughing from it and it doesn't feel like a good thing to be doing.
But what is the alternative?
The only one I can see is to hire someone else to do it and that doesn't seem fair. They're not hard to pull, especially the tiny ones which are mostly what I was pulling today but it's a pain in the ass and a cough in the throat and dust in the mouth and there are so many of them. I truly wish they'd never been planted here but I suppose that someone thought it was a good idea at one time.
Here's something I am so glad that grew in this yard. I doubt any human person planted it though.

It's the beautiful old oak in my front yard and you can't possibly get a scale of how huge it is. Anyone who could stand beside or under this tree and not feel that it's a sentient being is not someone I would purposefully hang out with. 

I've been having a conversation about spirituality, for lack of a better word, with an online friend of mine today. We differ in our feelings and beliefs but we are both old enough and both smart enough to know that we can differ and it's fine. And then a Facebook friend of mine whom I do know in real life posted about how different her and her husband's beliefs and practices are and how that's sometimes tricky to navigate but that they manage, and are able to appreciate the path that the other is on. They have very definite practices, each in their different ways and although I do not understand either, I respect that they have them. I believe they are sincere in their quests, in their attempts to make sense of the world and of life in their own more formalized ways. 

So I've been thinking about these things today and quite honestly, I do think about religion and spiritual practices quite frequently. Sometimes I even wish that I had a defined and satisfying spiritual life but I don't. I have actually tried throughout my life to adopt one or another but as I wrote to my friend, they never felt as if they fit. I felt as if I was playing a part or playing a game. 

I know I've told this story before but when I was quite young, perhaps around ten or eleven, I saw a televised Billy Graham revival thing. Whatever it was they called those huge productions with choirs and testimonies and preaching and wailing and gnashing of teeth and crying. Billy held on to the edges of his podium and tossed his golden forelock in the shining sun and proclaimed the power of JAEESUS and the healing that was possible if we would just take our cares to GOD and I tried that. This was when my stepfather was still abusing me and sometimes I would get down on my knees (which was painful- I had a woven rattan rug in my room instead of carpet) and prayed and prayed to Jesus and his holy father to make my stepfather quit coming into my room at night, to make our family happy, to let me enter into a state of grace and goodness. 

Well. Nothing happened. My heart did not open and Jesus did not make an appearance and my stepfather still kept coming into my room and my mother kept getting headaches and taking to her bed and weeping. 

So then I decided to read the Bible. This was when I was in Jr. High school so I was probably twelve? Thirteen? 

Reading the Bible in order to become inspired did not work for me. I read it. Cover to cover. Of course I didn't understand a lot of it. And the "begats" were boring as hell. There were some pretty juicy parts. But it all just seemed like a bunch of stories stuck together until the New Testament at which point the books kept disagreeing with each other and then came Revelations and who in the world could understand that shit? 

Even at my young age I could not and would not accept the veracity of any of it and that pretty much ended my Christian phase. 

We did go to church sometimes but none of the sermons touched me in the least. Looking back it was all so white bread and the only thing I liked about it was that we would go out to eat for lunch when it was over, usually at Morrison's Cafeteria and that was a real treat. 

Food over religion. It's always worked for me. 

When I got older I dipped my toe into Buddhism without knowing a thing about it. I really still don't understand much about it. I've tried but my pragmatism just keeps popping up to block my way down the path. New Age-y stuff drives me insane. The first time I ever attended a ceremony where the four spirits were conjured and evoked I could only think, "Fuck this shit. We're white people." 

I've been through a candle-burning phase, an altar-making phase, a sage-burning phase. 

And now I'm to the point where all of those make me feel like a pretender. 

Mopping a floor with Fabuloso and white vinegar is more effective as a spirit-chaser for me than burning sage. Or incense. I don't believe in Feng Shui although I do believe in arranging furniture so that you don't run into it and hurt yourself and I also believe that a tidy and uncluttered space leads to more serenity than a cluttered one. This is a bit of an untested theory in my house. 

I have also been through a Madonna phase. I have pictures of the Madonna all over my house. I inherited some of them as well as the love for the love of the images from my friend Sue. Even as I jumped in with both feet, I knew that it was more of a goddess/mother thing than a sacred thing. And of course the Virgin of Guadalupe is beloved as "La Reina de Mexico" so I glommed on to her in a big way. I still love my sweet little folk-art carved and painted version of her in my hallway 

but the other images of the Virgin I have hanging about have become more weary to me lately. Still, some of them are beautiful. 

This one was my Sue's. 

Here's a picture of a mother and child and a father, too, that I honestly cherish. 

May bought me that at a Goodwill and it means more to me than one would think. It reminds me that a mother's love for her child is deeply ingrained in our DNA and that's why we're still here. Of course the same is true for chickens and alligators and raccoons and possums and dolphins too. Which doesn't make that love one bit less miraculous or beautiful. 

It's pretty much all a fucking miracle, I think. I mean- here we are. We may not be here for a whole lot longer although this picture does give me some hope. 

And to tie things up, Hank just posted a picture on my timeline on Facebook that honestly makes me think that there are types of psychic (again- for lack of a better word) communication which exist which we do not understand as of yet but which are as real as ink on paper, as blood and as bones.

Here it is. 

I mean- he JUST posted it this minute. 

You can't make this shit up. 

I love you, Hank. And all of my babies. It may just be a trick of evolution to ensure the safety and protection and nurturing of future generations but it works for me. 

And yeah, chicken-love? Same thing. 

As I so often say- it's in our DNA. And chickens have done more for the human species than Jesus Christ. 

At least that's what I think. 

I could be wrong. 

I frequently am. 

Love...Ms. Moon

People Get BUSY At The End Of December

This morning when I got up I couldn't believe how cool it was- down in the sixties! Oh, the glory of it! I opened up the doors at both ends of the hallway and immediately the cool air dashed and danced right through it, just as this house was designed for.

Jessie and I had talked about doing some birthday shopping while August was in school and so I drove in and went to her house and we took off for the stores. Here are the people we love who are having birthdays in the next week:

Billy, Lily, Shayla, Vergil, August, Owen, and Lily.

You know what happens nine months before the last week in September? 

Yeah, that's right. Christmas and New Year's Eve. And all those party days in between the two. 

So we have a lot of birthday presents to buy. 

Now. Besides my neurotic fear of all things medical, my neurotic (and growing) aversion to making phone calls, especially for appointments of any kind, I also have a terrible and neurotic anxiety about buying gifts. 

It's probably one of the reasons I hate Christmas so much. 

Part of me wonders if I'm just a complete narcissist who only wants to buy presents for myself but I really don't think that's it. I think I just want to give the people I love the perfect gift. The gift that says without a shadow of a doubt how much I know and respect and love and cherish the very essence of that person's soul. 

And you know- it's hard to find that sort of present at, say, TJ Maxx. Kids are easier to buy for, of course. For one thing, they won't remember for a week what you got them. It all blends in together with all of the other presents. You could make a four-year old kid a quilt stitched entirely by hand with love or buy them a bag of Skittles and Gummy Bears and they'd probably prefer the Skittles and Gummy Bears. 

And adults? Well, we come to expect that our presents are going to be less exciting as we get older. That's all there is to it. But dammit- I want to get something meaningful and lovely and that will last for years to come to give to my sweetest sweeties. 

Which makes it almost impossible. 

Some people are just so damn good at gifts. They have a knack, an almost magical ability to know what someone will love. I don't have that. 

And don't even get me started with buying cards. Good Lord but that's one of the most anxiety-producing things I can imagine. 

It's all a nightmare! 

But Jessie and I got a few things for a few people and it was so much fun to have Levon on his own. We were quite literally at TJ Maxx and besides birthday presents, I needed a bar of soap. I don't like body wash for the shower. It makes my skin feel weird. I want soap. Real soap. And TJ Maxx has soap from all over the world. Levon sat in the cart and together we smelled a whole lot of soaps. 

"This is Shea butter," I'd tell him. "What do you think?"

And he'd smell it and say, "Good!" 

When we got to the lavender soaps he liked them so much that he kissed them. 

Levon kissed the soap. 

Oh, how I love him! 

While we were there I bought him a new book about trucks. It has hundreds of trucks in it. I am not kidding. Ooh boy. He loves that book. He is learning to talk by repeating words like, "Hay Baler," "Recreational Vehicle," and "Forage Harvester." 

These things will surely come in handy someday. 

Right? 

After we picked up August we decided that it was time to go see May. So we went to Midtown Pies and there was our beautiful girl! It was a joy to hug her. 

Also- delicious foods! Jessie and I split a Caprese salad and a little pizza with fresh tomatoes and ricotta and other good things. We shared with the boys. 

So, so good. 

Levon and August turned on the charm for their Aunt May as all little (and big) boys do. We got to chat a little bit- mostly about the upcoming GIANT BIRTHDAY BONANZA PARTY that Lily is hosting next weekend. We're all very excited about this. 

And thus, it was all a pretty dang good day. I even stopped at Costco on my way out of town to get August's present which is a magnetic building kit. When I got home the house was still very nicely cool even though I'd turned off the AC. 

And here I am, Friday night with no husband to make my martinis. 

Guess what? 

I can make my own. 

I hope he's having such a good time up in Tennessee with his old friend. I bet he is. Here's a picture he sent me of his friend's sweet boxer showing some love.

I have no ending but I've run out of words. That'll have to do. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Life On Earth As A Human: Possible Trigger Warning

Lord, I woke up sore this morning.
"I need a massage!" I thought.
Well, actually, it took me a while to formulate that thought. But I knew I was sore right away. That massage therapist worked my muscle attachments and worked 'em good!
Mr. Moon had already taken off for Tennessee when I got up. He kissed me good-bye around seven and if I were a good wife I would have gotten up early and made him a hearty breakfast but that's what they make Waffle Houses for so I just went back to sleep.

I did take a walk today. It was so much cooler and drier which made it much more tolerable. I didn't walk very fast but I did it and I took the picture of that Hibiscus Mutabilis which we sadly call Confederate Rose in my neighbor's yard. Well, to be accurate I took the picture from the church's yard next door but the tree is in my neighbor's yard. I have one too but it gets too much shade, as all of my plants do and it won't be blooming for awhile. I always call this flower the prom queen of flowers because- well, just look at it. They make me think of the flowers that my best friend Lucille and I used to make with pink Kleenex and a bobbie pin. I bet I could still make one, too.
On my way back home on my walk I realized that some neighbors have acquired a new piglet. This is the house where they have the yappy dogs. At this point, the pig isn't much bigger than the dogs but it will be. Trust me.

As I walked past, the little dogs came to the gate and barked at me and the pig ran to the gate and oinked at me. It already thinks it's a guard pig. 

Maybe it is. 

It's pretty cute. 

Jessie texted and asked if I'd like her to bring the boys out after she picked up August at school. I answered, "Of course!" 

And so she did. 

We all piled on my bed and read books. Levon spent quite a bit of time nursing while holding his tractor book and Jessie actually fell asleep for a few moments while that was going on. Bless her mama-heart and her tired mama-bones. August was in a merry mood and we read quite a few books and stories. Coincidentally, one of the books he picked out was our Pig Tales book which has lots of stories and poems about pigs in it. "That's my favorite!" he'd say about each story. "That's my favorite too!" 

He knows which story is MY favorite but it's not one of his favorites so we didn't read that one. 

Sigh. I just love Johnny Squelchnose.

I've always been attracted to the bad boys. 

One of the best things to do at Mer's house is to find things to eat that you don't have at home. Today it was Honey Nut Cheerios. Mr. Moon considers Honey Nut Cheerios to be the only cereal worth eating so we always have some. 

We also had some popcorn a little later on. Kids are an excellent excuse to eat snacks. 

Eventually Jessie decided it was time to take the kidlings home. We'd put the hallway-length alphabet puzzle together and Levon had pushed the babies in the carriage for a good long time. There was even a little bit of TV despite the fact that Mr. Moon wasn't here. 

So it was a perfectly lovely afternoon and now I've finished watching Part 2 of Leaving Neverland and it gave me a lot to think about. The final bit of it was about the mothers who had allowed the boys who are the subjects of the film to spend endless nights alone with Michael in his bed. Now let me say this- where were the fathers? 

One, yes, was in Australia. His wife left him and took her son and her daughter to LA because Michael Jackson had begged them to come and live there. This was when her son was Michael's boy de jour. And that father had mental health issues and eventually he killed himself. 

So there is that. 

The other father was in LA as far as I know but as in both cases- the mothers had taken over the situation and Michael seemed to have courted them, as I said, and given them reason to believe that he loved them as much as he loved their children (but all in a perfectly platonic way, of course) and there were gifts and travel and adventures involved. Also a house loan which ended up being a gift as well. But goddam! That father should have stepped up and said, "Nah. This ain't happening," from the very start. 

Of course neither father was interviewed for the film. And both of the mothers are adamant that they had NO IDEA IN THE WORLD that Michael Jackson was molesting their sons. As I think I said before though, even if he hadn't been, there was just absolutely nothing in the world okay about letting their little boys sleep in the same bed with a grown man. 

And of course both of the men, now grown up and who finally, after years of depression, anxiety, and all sorts of horrible dysfunction and becoming fathers to little boys themselves, have very mixed feelings about their mothers. And the mothers are filled with regret. 

That whole thing about the non-protective parent is just one of the many, many horrible stinking layers of the entire child sexual abuse onion. And I realize that my perspective is slanted because my relationship with my mother grew worse and worse over the years after I told her about the abuse of her husband towards me and probably towards two of her other sons. To the point where when she died I was still not able to be there for her as lovingly and as gracefully as I should have been. 

I am not proud of this. 

But it's the truth. 

Part of me knows without a doubt that any of my children could have been abused and there is the possibility that I would not have been aware of it. But I also know that I was constantly on the lookout. Whenever anyone came into our home I remained on high alert. And when I had boyfriends after my divorce, that constant wariness doubled and tripled. 

Still- I know that it could have happened. 

It was my greatest fear and to be honest, I still fear that one day one of my kids will come to me and say, "Mom, there's something I need to tell you."

But I will tell you this- if that day ever happens the first thing out of my mouth will not be, "I did not know." 

It will be, "Oh my darling child. Please forgive me for not protecting you. I am so sorry."

And I think that's why my mother's and my relationship became so bad. She never, ever, was able to tell me that she was sorry that my abuse had happened on her watch. Her line of defense was:

1. I didn't know.

2. I had no idea.

3. How could I have known?

She did once say that she was sorry it had happened to me. But she never apologized for not protecting me. 

And I suppose she simply couldn't do that. She also couldn't protect her children from what she quite obviously did know about how her husband treated her children in the light of day which was, in and of itself, horribly abusive. He was abusive towards her too. And things that should have prompted questions or concerns were never addressed. When she did finally divorce him it was after all of the children were grown and out of the house. 

My mother did not have an easy life. My own biological father was a nightmare husband. His drinking was way beyond anything that was tolerable and she was able to leave him only when his behavior became obviously dangerous to the point of being life-threatening. I think that the shame she felt in the late fifties, early sixties, at being a divorced woman was so great that the idea of going through that again was more than she could face. 

So, so many layers. The list of things that childhood sexual abuse steals from its victims is almost endless. Perhaps I should write a series of posts focusing on some of those. 

But one of them is most definitely an inability to have a loving, trusting relationship with a non-protective parent. I am sure that many survivors work this out in a more loving and graceful way than I did. We all deal with the myriad of different aspects differently although there are similarities between all of us. And knowing that can be such a relief. 

It's not just me. 

It's not just you. 

Well, night is coming upon us here in Lloyd. Church is happening next door. The cooler air feels as sweet as a tender promise whispered by a lover. Summer is not over but we have gotten a blessed, albeit brief reprieve. 

My husband has made it safely to Tennessee and he said it was a beautiful drive. 

I am alone but I am not lonely. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Water From The Sky And All The Facts You Don't Need To Know

It finally happened this afternoon- we got a little bit of rain. One minute it was clear blue skies and this endless sweltering heat and the next minute thunder was cracking like the knuckles on god's henchmen getting ready to go out and break some kneecaps.
Or whatever it is that god's henchmen do.
Give people boils. Send down frogs and locusts. Introduce plague.
Whatever.
The point being- it rained! A little bit. It was coming down there good for a few minutes. And it's actually starting to sprinkle again. I believe you might call this "scattered showers." Perhaps I should consult the Meteorologist In Chief. Hell, he probably knows as much about the weather as he does anything else.
Which is to say- not shit.

So- Ms. Moon! How was your massage?
Thanks for asking. It was pretty intense. This lady doesn't go for the relaxing thing except as pertains to getting your body all relaxed enough so that she can get in there and find the spots that need help and that means the spots that really hurt when they get pressed on. Still, I enjoyed it. It felt like something was being accomplished. And she is very, very careful to continuously monitor how the pressure feels to the person being massaged. So I am a little sore right now but expect to feel much better tomorrow.
Or the next day.
But it wore me out! I will admit that. I did a little grocery shopping afterwards and came home and ended up sitting on the couch and doing some more embroidery and starting Part 2 of Leaving Neverland and then I had to take a nap. I'm pathetic.
No I'm not.

Here's an interesting factoid- last night before bed I took some CBD oil and this morning I woke up remembering not one dream and also not feeling my usual horrible morning existential angst. I shall repeat the experiment tonight and see if we can repeat these findings.

Mr. Moon is talking about leaving for Tennessee tomorrow for a hunting-preparedness weekend. There are hurricanes and tropical storms and disturbances lined up in the Atlantic ocean. I actually got four eggs today which is about three more than I have been getting lately. My Americaunas have not given me one of their beautiful green eggs for days. My chicken scratch bag is filled with red ants which means I get new ant bites daily. I cut my thumb barely, barely on a sharp knife this morning- hardly enough to draw a drop of blood- and when I did it I thought, "That's going to hurt like hell," and now it does. I looked up recipes for pork chops in the NYT's cooking app and not a damn one of the hundreds they have look as good as Shake'n'Bake. When I got to the one for "kale smothered pork chops" I quit looking.
Oh. Hell. No.
Lily is on a mini-vacation with girlfriends and was anxious before she left that the children would all be okay during her absence and that her house would not be destroyed when she got back. I think we can all relate to this. HAVE A GREAT TIME, LILY! YOU DESERVE IT!
I am horribly, terribly, awfully homesick for Roseland and I think we might go there for our anniversary which is coming up in October. Thirty-five years! The river and the ocean are calling me and so is the Ocean Grill where I want to eat some shrimp salad and drink some pina coladas. I even want to go to the Roseland Publix and buy things to cook in the beautiful retro-kitchen with the pink stove and the window that looks out on the pool with the spitting lions and the bamboo and the river. I am hoping that the crazy restaurant that decorates for Halloween like the Vatican decorates for Christmas is still open.

And I guess that is truly about all of the news I have to relate.
In the past three hours the temperature has probably dropped twenty degrees. Yep. I just checked. It has. It's gone from 98 to 78.
Talk about your miracles!
And hey- my power's still on. Knock wood.

All right. Gonna go make some pork chops. And sweet potatoes. And salad with pears and blue cheese. And toasted pecans.

Life is truly okay tonight in Lloyd. I hope it is for you wherever you are.

Love...Ms. Moon

Dreams, Heat, And Other Things Which Are Difficult To Deal With

So this morning I was making Ronnie Wood mint tea as one does. All of the Rolling Stones were at my house or somewhere near my house and although I was making that tea for Ron (it required fourteen tea bags AND honey) and was there to see Charlie Watts get his new, stripped-down drum kit I never did see Keith or Mick because I was too busy making that damn tea.
Well, it was good to see Ron and Charlie.
The Rolling Stones seem to have become part of my nightly dream roster and unfortunately the way they've fit in is that I'm constantly trying to clean something or make impossible tea or do some other domestic chores that I am simply incapable of doing just like my other dreams where the laundry cannot possibly ever be done because there are like fourteen bedrooms, some of which I've not even yet discovered and all of the sheets and bedding must washed or else the collected filth and detritus and hoarded-like objects which fill the rooms must be cleaned out which is also a Sisyphean task or I can't reach someone I am desperate to get in touch with because my phone is lost/uncharged/falling into pieces/beyond my ability to operate. Then there are the being-lost-in-a-strange-city dreams or the I'm-working-as-a-server-or-a-shop-tender and have no idea how to run the cash register or perform the most mundane and necessary things in order to do the job. This morning after the tea-making debacle I was looking for a place to buy (haha!) on the beach near Vero and found myself in Ft. Pierce and one had to walk through the houses because they were so chock-a-block along the beach and one old man, instead of being angry that I was in his house, tried to give me a bunch of useless kitchen-wares to carry with me on my house-hunting journey.
Also? The ocean below the houses was deep and treacherous with rocks instead of sand.
And the houses cost too much.

Needless to say that when I wake up I am exhausted, confused, out of sorts, out of body, and ill prepared to start a new day. And that's the non-scary version of how I feel.

I did take a walk this morning. It was quite cool when I got up but by the time I'd come back to myself and dealt with the chickens, and read everything on the internet, and eaten, and read the paper, and done a load of laundry, it was, needless to say, getting a bit warm. Not as warm as it eventually got today which was 99 degrees but warm enough. I did hang all of my laundry on the line though and also watered the garden which felt wasteful because the only things in it that are still growing are the zinnias, a little bit of arugula, a few peas which have survived the heat and the drought and my volunteer sweet potatoes. I can't stand to see those zinnias all shrivel up and die though. Picking a few of them and putting them into vases has made me incredibly happy this summer. Their colors are as true and deep as gowns made of silk velvet and worn by queens.

The weather forecast says that we may actually get a bit of rain tomorrow but I'm not betting the ranch on that. The temperature is also supposed to become more normal for this time of year and it may not even reach 90 on Thursday although it may get up into the high 90's again tomorrow. The chickens are surviving but not doing much laying and they are molting. They seem to be okay, making their dirt baths in the direct sunlight sometimes and I don't know how they tolerate that but I guess that the hot sand feels good against their skin. Or something. Perhaps the heat has fried their little chicken brains and they are completely witless. 

Here is what the blossom of my bananas looks like. 

Isn't that freaking bewitching? 

Here are the fruits themselves. 

There is something just so lush and...naughty about tropical plants and their fruits. They shove their swellings and organs right in your face like a female baboon's beautiful red bottom when she becomes sexually receptive. 

Do you know what I mean? 

Perhaps my little brain is fried too from this heat, this endless summer that drives me inside to sit in front of the TV and embroider useless decorations on things. My project right now is a pair of corduroy overalls for August. He checked out what I was doing the other day and gave me rather specific instructions about how it should be done. Colors everywhere and also, when he discovered the beads that I'd been using for Maggie's dress he wanted those everywhere too. And oh- buttons. 

I told him I would do my best. 

What I was watching today was Part 1 of the Michael Jackson doc, Leaving Neverland. 

You know, it's so weird. I know a woman who is truly devoted to defending Jackson against the accusations made in this film and I can't figure out why. She's not stupid. But how can anyone believe that a man who looked and acted like Michael Jackson did was not a pedophile? But that's not my real question. My real question is- how could these parents allow their little boys to spend the night with a grown man in his bed while they themselves slept in distant rooms or even in distant houses? I can tell that Jackson courted and groomed the mothers as much or more than he did the children but my GOD! Of course, at that time, Michael Jackson was the biggest star in the universe and to have someone of that elevated a status wanting to spend time with your family, your child, was like being touched by Jesus. Or chosen by a king. 

And quite honestly, even if he never touched any of those boys it was still completely wrong and immoral and horrible for any parent to have allowed their child to sleep with him. 

And I am convinced that he did touch them and molested them too. The worst sin, as I see it, is that he encouraged these little boys to fall in love with him which allowed him to do what he did and then he replaced them in his bed and in his life leaving them doubly scarred forever. 

Those boys were as much pets to him as was Bubbles the chimp who, after having grown too old, too big, and too aggressive to be fun to play with, was taken to a wildlife refuge. 

So much for that. 

Tomorrow I go and get my massage and I am looking forward to it. 

Oh Lord, it is hot. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lunch, Weed, Snakes, Grandboys And Delicious Foods

Today I woke up feeling dark and nothing ahead of me beckoned me with any cheer at all. I didn't want to walk and didn't- what's the point?
Of course there's always a point but some days you just can't see it and even if you can you don't care.
Luckily Jessie texted and asked if anyone wanted to go to lunch and that, at least seemed to be a good idea. I know that even if nothing else appears to be worth the doing, seeing the children will pull me through when nothing else will.
Hank and Rachel could go too and I picked up Hank and we went to Tan's and if any of you live in Tallahassee and have never eaten there, I would really encourage you to do so. It's a good restaurant and the food today seemed especially especially delicious from the Mongolian tofu to the beautiful sushi and the things they do with eggplant will make you dance.
August and Levon were happy boys. Levon told us all about various large equipment. He is quite apt to greet you with the words, "Dump truck," instead of "hello" or "hey" or something boring like that. He was wearing a shirt with a truck on it and he pointed this out repeatedly. I asked him if he'd had a good time on the boat yesterday and between then and now he has decided that he did.
"Daddy drive," he said.
August was an even more golden shade of brown from yesterday's sun. I would be interested to see what his DNA says about where some of his beautiful color comes from. Neither Vergil or Jessie has his perfect toasty color. And his eyes are so dark brown although that hair keeps growing in blond as can be. His mama had just cut it for him and he looked quite stylish.
He was Uncle Hank's boy today. I think he was angling for something from the Hoarder's Delight box but alas! The box was not in Hank's car which Rachel had driven from her office. He accepted this fact with equanimity.

Even without a box of wonders to pick a gift from, his uncle amused him greatly today. 

Our friend John, aka Juancho, aka Husband of Beloved Melissa, also showed up and joined us at our table. He and Rachel work together and had both just gotten out of a two-and-a-half hour meeting and were ready for some lunch. We'd actually been talking about John when he appeared. He and his wife have recently returned from a real, true vacation where they went out west and visited his family and drove around and went to cool places. 

"Who does that anymore?" asked Jessie. 

More people should. 

We asked him about the trip and he said they'd had a great time. His brother-in-law in California is now in the weed business on the construction side. He is building grow facilities and also retail outlets, partnered with another guy who handles the product side. We all admitted that it was pretty crazy to live in these days when all of a sudden, that which would have put you in jail is now big business. It seems like it's happened overnight which of course isn't true. But the idea of being able to go into a lovely store and talk to knowledgeable people about weed is just...crazy! 

Mr. Moon has his medical marijuana card and he brings home brochures from the dispensaries that really blow my mind. It's like Cheech and Chong and Snoop Dogg and Jimmy Buffet had a dream and we're living in it these days. 

Part of me is saying, "Hallelujah!" and another part of me is so fucking angry because of all the lives that have been destroyed by pot laws that everyone has known were stupid and applied arbitrarily, of course affecting African American men in numbers far exceeding what white folks have experienced thus providing business and fodder for the goddammed private prison industry. Laws are changing and some states are releasing prisoners who have been incarcerated on marijuana charges but there are still people in jail literally dying after years of being kept in prison for having been arrested for possession of ridiculously small amounts of weed leaving families without breadwinners, without fathers, without husbands, sons, and brothers. 

Okay. Okay. We all know it's some kinda bullshit. And even if the laws are changing to the benefit of some while others are still looking at years of prison, the change is positive. And not everyone who is bringing home a paycheck because of the new laws is a celebrity with their own weed line, but regular guys like John's brother-in-law and of course there are the medical benefits as well as the fact that reefer is and always has been a positive way to change consciousness especially compared to alcohol and other legal and illegal substances, at least to my mind. 

And let me say that I don't even partake although I used to and if I enjoyed it I would today. Humans in every culture have taken mind-altering substances and always will. 

So who shoved that particular soap box under my feet tonight? 

I never know what's going to come out when I sit down to write. I swear. 

Here's a picture of Levon and Rachel. 

I love those two people. So much. 

And here's one more picture. 

Can you see it? I almost stepped on the poor thing. It's a little oak snake that was on my back porch. I wish I could say that I'm the type of strong, practical woman who can just grab a little snakey and put it outside but I will be honest and tell you I am not. Mr. Moon did catch it for me though, and let it go in the backyard. 

It's so funny how if we're at the Junior Museum and one of the people who work there and who are doing a snake presentation hand me a snake I am happy to hold it but if I come upon one in the wild or on my very own porch, I am the biggest wuss in the world. 

Logic has nothing to do with so much, no matter how big our human brains are and the older I get, the more I realize that this fact pertains to me. 

Love...Ms. Moon