Whirlwind Of Love

Last night was another enchanted evening. Like I said- I can't believe we went out two nights in a row but it just had to be done.
Factors:
1. I ALWAYS love to hear Lis and Lon playing. Always. I've never regretted going to see them, ever.
2. It was important to me that all of the L&L Super Fans (and there are many) know that I am always going to be there. Or, at least mostly. Because if the Moons didn't show up, it would just not be right.
3. I love many of the L&L Super Fans. Honest to god- it's always good to see them.
And last but not least:
4. Two weeks ago I ordered a dress that I had thought to wear on Valentine's but alas, it did not come before we left for Apalachicola. It is rather a fancy dress. Well, very simple and plain but black velvet. When we drove back to Lloyd yesterday Lis said, "Go by the post office and see if your dress got here." And I did.
And it had.
Therefore, knowing that if I didn't wear it last night I wouldn't have another opportunity until next winter, I simply had to seize the opportunity.

Noble reasons, right?

Now here's a very Tallahassee thing that happened. On the way home yesterday Lis and I were talking about a mutual friend. She delivered both Lily and Jessie as my homebirth midwife and was actually with me when I had May and also, throughout almost all of my very, very long labor with Hank. We're talking someone I've known since 1974. This woman is also a musician and played in my ex's band at one point and I adore her. Lily's labor, especially, was a very hard one and there was shoulder dystocia and she had a nuchal hand AND she weighed over ten pounds. When I finally got her born, it took her a few minutes to start breathing, to decide whether or not to stay, and this woman, my midwife, handled it all beautifully and calmly, and she was my angel.
So as I said, Lis and I were talking about her and one of her sisters and I said that it had been so long since I'd seen her and then of course, as these things go, there she was sitting right next to us at the Blue Tavern when we got seated. With her sisters.
And so I suppose that's also a reason I went but I wasn't aware of it beforehand.

After all of that last night (Lis made me cry with one of her songs during the FIRST set) we all got good sleep and then Jessie and the boys came over this morning for pancakes. And bacon. And sausage. Lon and Lis ARE Jessie's Fairy Godparents, as you know.
Lis and Jessie and I got breakfast all together and the men/boys went to the Glen Den to watch TV. We kept hearing great peals of laughter. I went in to see Boppy and August sitting in Boppy's chair and Lon and Levon on the couch.

They were watching Mighty Little Bheam and having a fine time. Meanwhile, of course, we ladies were giggling in the kitchen like the bad girls we are. 

We are. Bad girls. You just have no idea. In fact, we are probably the best bad girls you ever would like to meet. 

And then breakfast happened. 

And then the Williamsons had to pack up and leave because as we speak, they are playing in St. Augustine. 

I have no idea how they do it. 

I was going to sit on the couch all afternoon and crochet but instead I started doing housewife stuff and by the time I was ready to sit on the couch, I only had time to untangle some wool and didn't crochet a stitch. 

It's been raining all day. The frogs are singing. Supper is cooking. 

I'm going to be at Jessie's tomorrow at nine to watch the boys because Vergil's getting a little surgical procedure done. No worries. He's fine. And Mr. Moon? Well, he has to get up at three to drive to the airport to get on a flight to Ft. Lauderdale to GO GET THAT VAN! 

Different airline. Hopefully better result. 

He jokingly tried to persuade me to drive him to the airport but I refused. I said, "Sure, if your life depended on it. Which it does not."

So I made him cookies which is almost as good, right? 

There you go. That's what I've been doing. Crying at songs and at good-byes. Cooking and giggling and sharing hearts and thanking a midwife once again for her part in the life of my family. Kissing little boy heads when I get the chance, wearing make-up and shiny jewelry including my silver bangles. Seeing people I rarely see and getting good, good hugs. The kind of hugs that really mean it. Being forced out of my rut and routine into a richer and more colorful spectrum of life. 

Loving and being loved. 

Isn't that something? I think it is. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Friends Who Hold Us Together

Well, here we are, still in the middle of the Great Valentine's Weekend and I think that Mr. Moon and I are going to continue the festivities by going out tonight to see Lon and Lis perform again but this time in Tallahassee.
I know. I KNOW! I can't believe it either.

Last night was very fine in Apalachicola. The concert was in an art gallery and it was a lovely and appreciative crowd in a great space. This gallery puts on concerts once a month and they set out wine and finger foods and everyone is there simply to listen which is the best sort of audience.
My ex-husband and his wife showed up as they were in town already. He's doing his rock god thing tonight in Apalach himself. So it was good to see them.
The only problem with the entire situation was that I had called the Gibson Inn beforehand to see what time they closed down their kitchen for the bar menu, knowing that it would be late before we got there and I was completely misinformed by whoever answered the call. I swear- I have witnesses. We'd had a late lunch but by the time we got to the bar it was ten and we were hungry.
Too bad for us.
They were, however, serving drinks still.
Of course.
So all was not lost.
Lis and I could not believe that we'd come away from home without so much as a snack between us.
And by the time we got to breakfast this morning after the band had packed up the car and Lis and I had visited our favorite shop- Downtown Books and Purl- we were too late for that, either!
Oh well. We ate lunch.

Here's a picture I took at a liquor store when we went in to buy tonic and ice.

I'm not sure about the wisdom on the little sign and I've never danced on a table in my life (I swear!) but I couldn't pass up the mermaid. Man, I'd love to have her in my house. Who wouldn't?! 

(Again, I am being quite serious here.)

So I guess I better go get dressed. 

I hope Lis and Lon know how much I love them. I think they do. 

Love to YOU too...Ms. Moon

Goodness

It's raining and getting cooler.
Lon and Lis are here. That's Lon's chard from his garden in tonight's supper as I was coaxing those cherry tomatoes into bursting.
Blessings.

Love...Ms. Moon

Pretty Babies

Mr. Moon left here early this morning to get a flight to Ft. Lauderdale to pick up a van he bought for a customer. The flight was supposed to leave at 9:55. I left somewhat later to go to Jessie's where she was taking care of Maggie for Lily who was going on a field trip with Owen's class. I felt as if I had no energy and luckily, Maggie and Levon were happy playmates who entertained themselves for the most part and I just sat around and chatted with Jessie while she went about her day. Levon was wearing the fox dress that I made for his brother last year. Jessie said he loves it. He looked very fine with it on and it did not interfere with his mechanical duties in the least.

He kept bringing me huge books about trucks and cars and things-that-go. He told me what everything was and when I misidentified something he let me know. But mostly he and Magnolia played with play dough. That girl played for at least two hours with the stuff. Her focus and ability to stick to a project is amazing for a four-year old. 

She was wearing a beautiful twirly skirt and a shirt with a unicorn on it. She gave us a few concerts, playing first the ukelele and then the piano. Sometimes she danced while she played, sometimes she sang, and sometimes she did all three at the same time. Her songs all began, "When I grow up..."

She clarified that to me later saying, "When I grow up I'll be FIVE!" 

"Yes," I said. "Yes you will."

One of her songs also had the line, "And Mer Mer is my love." 

I almost died. 

August was at school and when Jessie went to get him and brought him in he had no eyes or time for me. He had his Valentines from school and y'all- there was CANDY in that bag. He shared it around generously. Jessie kept trying to get him to let her read his Valentines to him but that wasn't very interesting. 

I mean- candy. 

All this time I kept getting texts from Mr. Moon. His flight to Ft. Lauderdale was delayed and delayed and delayed. Finally, at 3:00 it was canceled entirely. 

So he'd been in the Tallahassee airport for over five and a half hours waiting for a flight that never left. 

I would have been screaming but he took it all in stride. 

I left Jessie's when Lily got back from the field trip and picked up Maggie who did NOT want to leave her cousins and their great toys. 

I left and went to Costco to pick up some cherry tomatoes for a meal I'm going to cook tomorrow. Of course I found a few other things I needed and bought them too. But nothing crazy like a ten-pound wheel of cheddar or a flat of toilet paper or a yard waste-sized bag of organic quinoa chips. 

These. 

Have you bought those tomatoes before? They are so good. Not only are they great in salads but I throw them in half the stuff I cook. The dish I'm planning on cooking is Seared Scallop Pasta with Burst Tomatoes and Herbs. The description includes this: "Toss them (the scallops) with pasta and candy-colored cherry tomatoes that burst and get coaxed into a jammy sauce."

I have noticed that "jammy" is a favorite word of some of the creators of recipes in the New York Times app. It's a little precious for me but it is fairly descriptive of the way the tomatoes end up. So yes, I had to get my cherry tomatoes. To coax. Into a jammy sauce.

I guess it's best to coax these things, not force them or speak to them with vehemence. "Come on, you sweet little 'maters! You can do it! Get all jammy now!"

And so forth. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Live And Learn Or Live And Don't

Today started with me feeling so janky and jangled. Things that shouldn't even be the slightest bump in the road reared up before me as seemingly insurmountable as the Rocky Mountains appeared to the first settlers to cross the continent.
("Whoa!" they said. "I think maybe we'll just stay right here. Looks okay." This is how Denver came to be. At least that's my theory.)
But these things were not Rocky Mountains. They were things like having to drive Mr. Moon's car to town to sign some papers at two, needing to go to Publix, wanting to eat lunch with Lily and Maggie and how to fit that all in there, knowing that a repairman was going to be here sometime after three.
Theoretically.
Plus, Lon and Lis are coming on Thursday and I really have been making an effort to make things a little nicer for them. Today was the day I wanted to take on my bathroom, to tidy it all up and clean the sink and the shower, polish the wooden piece of furniture that the sink sits in, sweep and mop the floors and wash the rugs.
I know that those two dear people don't care at all if the rugs are clean but Lord, one should do one's best to at least get the mildew out of the shower before guests come and honestly, it's so nice to have it sparkling for me if for no one else.
So I just felt all kerfluffled as Lily described it but I made it to town and did my Publix shopping and then met Lily and Maggie for lunch. Afterwards we went to the Dollar Tree so that Lily could get kid valentines and I watched Maggie as she played in the toy aisle so that her mama could keep the valentines a surprise. For some reason there was a basket of loose toys right there on the floor and Maggie immediately began to play with those, using them to create her own story.

Sometimes the beauty of the child is more than I can bear.

I still had plenty of time after we were finished there so we stepped into Steinmart for me to look at rugs but they didn't have much in that department. Maggie found a chair though, and decided she needed a nap. 

By the time we got her off the chair and out of the store, it was time for me to meet Mr. Moon. We got all of that done quickly and then I came home to wait for the repairman. While I was waiting I did attack my bathroom, mostly the shower, and although it's not exactly sparkling, you could perform surgery in there. 

Finally, when I'd just given up hope that Mr. Fix Things was ever going to come, he showed up and I invited him in. You may or may not remember that we've been having trouble with our new(ish) freezer ever since we got it. The wheels have fallen off the rolling basket constantly. The thing never shut right causing it to defrost itself. And this was about the third time this particular repairman was here to do something about the problem. He's replaced the wheels, he's instructed me on how to close the freezer properly. Today he was going to replace the tracks that the wheels run on. 

But. 

He opened it up and started looking at it. He studied it from the front, he studied it from the side. 

"I think I've figured this out," he said. 

"Really? What is it?"

"The bottom basket is in backwards. See this slanted part? That's supposed to be in the back. And see those words that say 'front' on the back of it? Could be they're supposed to be on the front."

"Oh my god."

And yes, that was it. 

We've had this refrigerator for what? Six months? More? I don't know. And no one has figured out that when they installed it, they put that part in backwards. I mean- it sort of worked. But I kept feeling like something was wrong. The design and function of the rest of the refrigerator was just so smooth and nice. Why would this part of it be so clumsy and funky?

And now it fits properly, the top basket rolls in its tracks nicely and easily, the front says "front," and it seals when you shut it without having to do anything special. 

I can't tell you how many times it has been demonstrated to me by the repair guy and my husband how to properly close the freezer. 

But hey- people get busy, they make mistakes. And now it's all figured out.

I am sure that somewhere there is a metaphor here for how I'm living my life. If there is, I don't exactly see it but I'm sure it has something to do with assuming that at the very least, my parts are installed properly while THEY MAY NOT BE. 

I finished listening to Year of the Monkey and I hated for it to end. I think I'll listen to it again soon. 

I tried on that flannel dress I made again today and it didn't suck nearly as much as I thought it did. I actually wore it to town. Maggie liked it because it has pockets. That's the main reason I like it too. 

Perhaps pockets are the answer to life. If chimps had pockets they'd probably have invented something better than the iPhone by now. 

By the way- Darla is fine. She was in fact, hiding somewhere in the coop the night I couldn't find her. Tonight she's sleeping in the same nest box as Liberace. And here's something I have learned about that rooster- he is a gentle lover compared to every other rooster I've had. His quick and non-violent approach to sex is enough to make me happy for all of my hens. 

That's all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Day

I was in the car this morning at 9:12, dressed and ready to go pick up Lily and Magnolia to take them to Lily's hair appointment with our dear Melissa but horror of horrors! Surprise of surprises! My car would not start.
My little red Prius which has carried me so many miles of faithful, unworried travel, safely and without thought would not respond to the key's command.
I called Mr. Moon (aka The Car Guy- no, really) and said, "My car won't start. Bring me a new one and a tow truck to take this one away."
I really do not get emotionally involved with my cars. I don't have to. My husband just always makes sure I have one that drives and is dependable and comfortable. He is, in fact, a dealer of cars. He's been working with cars since he began working at his daddy's gas station when he was a little boy. He pumped gas and cleaned windshields and checked oil. I bet he was darling.
He knows how to fix cars and he knows how to take them apart and put them back together. He knows how to sell cars and he only sells the ones he's checked in a hundred different ways to make sure that it will be a good car for his customers. For years he owned a tire and car repair business.
He loves cars.
You should see our yard. And our garage.
Anyway, when I told him to bring me a new one he said, "Ha!" and then, "It's probably the battery," and then, "I'll charge it when I get home."
So much for going to town with Lily and Magnolia.
So much for having an excuse not to take a walk, to do housework or yard work.
Hmmph.
So I took a walk and then I started in on straightening up and tidying up the front porch, restoring the plants to their proper places that I had dragged to the back wall to cover when we had a freeze. This involved lifting heavy things and dragging heavy things and sweeping and arranging and so forth.
I am no doubt premature in doing this. It is still only February. I have seen snow here in March but of course, that was back during the ice age when the giant armadillo still walked the land, its plodding armored body as heavy as a tank, and it ate insects as big as vultures.
So who knows?
But it looks like spring. It smells like spring. It FEELS like spring.
How does spring feel?
Like when I see an empty flower pot I have an overwhelming urge to plant something in it.
As you can see in the picture above, I already have a vast overabundance of plants in pots. How many giant bird's nest ferns does one porch need?
(Less than three, I think.)
Oh well.
I took the plants that I had brought into the house and set them back outside. I found that my Norfolk Island Pine which was my Christmas tree still had one dangling ornament on it, silver and delicate, a ridiculous bauble hanging from a three-hundred pound pirate's ear.
I planted a begonia which I had rooted in an empty pot.
I swept bags and bags worth of oak leaves off the porch and remembered when I had hired Owen and Gibson to sweep and how they had been bewildered by the seemingly impossible task set before them.
After all of that was done I swept what I call the "swing porch" because it has a swing on it.
I'm clever like that.
And then I had to sweep the places in the house where plants had been because they had dropped leaves and so forth.
Every plant has survived although some of them have their winter pallor. I need to trim them and to fertilize them. They could all do with more sun than they get on the porch but that's the only place I have to put them so they do the best they can under the circumstances.
And I will wait to feed them until it is truly and properly spring. We most likely won't get snow this year but it may well freeze again.

After all of that I was, as you can imagine, a bit fatigued.
To put it nicely.
And so I took a nap.

In between all of the plant moving and porch sweeping I had started cooking white beans with garlic and some parmesan rinds and now I have made a soup with that and last night's leftovers which was a sort of chicken and broccoli Newburg from a recipe that my mother gave me. She made it once, as I recall and although it's called Lobster Newburg, she made it with leftover fish and I will never forget how good it was. It was so far from her usual dishes of hamburger-made-a-thousand-ways (that's how they cooked back then) that it lit a curiosity in me about what food could, in fact be.
When I was a vegetarian I used to make broccoli Newburg, and served it on brown rice, which is what my broccoli and chicken were served with last night. I've added some shallots (my new favorite thing) and spinach and a bit of leftover corn and oh, yes, some celery.
I think it will be good.

All day I've been listening to Patti Smith read her book Year of the Monkey. I have a dreadful confession to make- I've never really appreciated the music or the poetry of Patti Smith and although I did read Just Kids, I didn't love it as much as I was supposed to so I approached this book with trepidation. I almost sent it back to the library before the first chapter was finished. Her stream-of-consciousness poetry/prose put me off, probably because I am jealous. Also? She drops her "g's" at the end of words like "workin'," "writin'," "walkin'."
How can this not be an affectation? She is not from rural Georgia.
But then she seemed to forget to do that and I slid into her dreamscapes and I am loving it.

So that's what it's been like for me here today in Lloyd, Florida, which isn't even a pinprick on a map, but where people live their lives, their full-on, real lives with stories of their own as deep and as true as anyone's, famous or not-famous just like everyone on earth.

Bless all of us.

Love...Ms. Moon

A few days ago I asked my husband why he hasn't filled the bird feeder lately.
"The chickens- remember?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah." I said.
They had started out just pecking up the seeds that fell to the ground but eventually they'd figured out how to fly up to the platform and get the seed at its source, gobbling up expensive wild bird feed as fast as we could refill the feeder.
Sigh.
But when he went to Lowe's the other day he bought some bird seed and this morning he filled up the feeder and before he'd even gotten it rehung, Miss Darla was running toward him.
She had remembered what I had forgotten.
And within seconds, the rest of the flock came running.

That's not the whole flock but part of it. 

"Wonder how long it'll take one to fly up to the platform?" my husband asked. 

Turned out, about five minutes. 

Miss Sissy was first. And then Liberace joined her.

Mr. Moon was not to be trifled with. He got out another pole which he had stashed away somewhere and fixed the whole thing so it's about two feet higher. I did see Darla try to flap up there but she misjudged the height and didn't make it and squawked in frustration. And so far, none of the rest of gotten up there either. I know they can. I mean, Sissy and Susie sleep in a damn TREE! But for now, all is well. I even saw two lady cardinals dining, unmolested by giant poultry. 

It's been a sweet, gentle day. I took everything slow and easy. I went across the street and removed the catheter from the Lidocaine pump that was in my neighbor's shoulder. And yes, deja vu all over again in that I did the same for her husband's Lidocaine pump two weeks ago. So I was a pro at it today. Just as I completely removed it, my neighbor asked, "Are you taking it out now?"

It was hardly a job that required the four years of nursing school education I had but I was glad to do it. I frequently dream that I had never finished nursing school and I never really took the time to wonder why because I most certainly did, until today. In a way, nursing education is in three (at least) parts. One is the classroom and clinical training you receive, one is taking and passing the state nursing exams and the third is actually working as a nurse because that's when you truly become a nurse in the sense that your education only provides you with so much and then it's time to actually learn as you do. 

And I never really did the third part. The only nursing job I ever had was at a birth center and I think that I've probably always been a bit ashamed of that. Not of working at birth center. I loved being a birth attendant and helping the midwives and the mothers and greeting the new babies. I did that for years but it wasn't like working in a hospital. At all. 

And honestly, working in a hospital probably would have killed me. Have I told you about my all-things-medically-related neurosis?

Haha!

So in a way, those dreams make sense. They are always tied to me needing desperately to get out of my mother's house and not having a way to make a living. I generally have children in these dreams and need to support them too. To add to the drama my stepfather is still living in the house with my mother and I am constantly yelling at him to GET AWAY! 

Well. 

I cleaned my back porch today. I didn't do a "deep clean." That would require a pressure washer and I'm not kidding you. But I did clean the dirt and dust off some tchotchkes 

and wash some windows and scrape a little dried chicken poop off the floor and take out about twelve generations of spider webs and I also swept the corners and tidied up and put some things in my car to take to the dump including a perfectly good chair that needs re-caning which we will NEVER get around to, ever, in this lifetime. 

So, not a deep clean but it's somewhat less disgusting. 

You just don't realize how surrounded you are by filth until you start a project like this. 

Okay. Maybe that's just me. 

Anyway, that took all afternoon long although I will admit that there was a nap involved in the middle of it all. Somehow I also managed to wash all of my cashmere and hang it on the line which was a most sensuous and enjoyable experience. Cashmere is so amazing. Not only is it the warmest, softest fiber in the world, it also dries surprisingly quickly. 

And now it's getting dark and I've seen a male cardinal at the feeder and Miss Darla is missing from the roost but I'm not too worried. I just told Mr. Moon this morning that it's about time for her to go broody again. She may well be sitting on some eggs somewhere. At least that's what I hope. 

Time, as always, to make our supper. And I have to say that it's been a fine day, not just for a Sunday but for any day. May this upcoming week be as sweet. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Could I Be Bitchier? Oh, Yes. Yes I Could

There's Maurice, aka Scratch, aka Scratchy, aka The Hell Bitch.
She was sweet today, though, and followed me around as I did yard work. I think this is when I like Maurice best- when we are outside together and just hanging out, her pretending we're simply in the same places by sheer coincidence, me wearing gloves so that if I decide to pet her and she turns on me and tries to bite my hand off, I have some protection. I say "some" protection because she can draw blood through a glove, no problem and has done before.
But today things were peaceful between us. I picked up downed branches and twigs and she helpfully pointed more out for me. I swear, I think she did this on purpose. I was about to pick up one quite large branch but had to wait while she she walked the length of it as delicately as a ballet dancer following the spotlight in toe shoes.
Besides picking up branches and hauling them to the burn pile, I pulled some of the rice paper plants which I used to find attractive but now find horrific as they, like almost everything else I did not plant in this yard, have taken over like the spawn of King Kong. And they become rather immense, not to mention the fact that when you pull them they let go of some sort of plant dust (I don't even think it's pollen) that causes the puller to choke and cough.
I swear. I'm about to give up on all of it. I can't stay on top of the invasives and that's all there is to it. I did discover that the Trillium is not only up but is also blooming.

So lovely. And so very shy and well-behaved. 

Which is completely the opposite of the Crocosmia which I bitch about every year and pull every year and which has already made its presence known and known and known and known here in my yard. 

See all those lily-like blades glowing in the sun? That's them. I spent hours pulling most of what you see there. I pulled three-quarters of a large garden cart-full of them. Guess what? It won't fucking matter. They'll be back. I know I didn't get the corms of all of them and besides that, there were plenty of those little buggers that haven't sprouted yet. 

Sometimes I think that I'm going to be spending the rest of my years on this planet trying to keep the invasive plants down to a reasonable level and for what? FOR WHAT? 

I despair. 

And today was already a day of despair to be honest. 

As I walked around the yard picking up this, pulling out that, I saw so much that needs to be done. The Confederate Jasmine (which I admit I planted) needs its annual severe cut-back and that's such a messy, yucky job. The plant oozes a sticky white sap when it's cut and untangling the vines of it can make you crazy. That's an entire day's project. The Glory Bower is another invasive I can't possibly keep up with. What started out as a curious (to me) looking plant in one tiny part of the side yard that had a lovely purple/pink bloom has become my mortal enemy. I had a feeling that might happen when I noticed the same plant growing beside a restaurant we used to eat at frequently. It had completely covered at least an acre of a vacant lot and I got a little shiver of fear. Wasn't long after that when I noticed that it was popping up everywhere in my yard. 

EVERYWHERE. 

And I, stupidly, pulled and pulled it and dumped the plants in one spot next to the garage where there is now a forest of them. 

Also? It stinks. Literally.

Now I dump the ones I pull on the burn pile which upsets my husband because there's not enough "accelerant" as he calls it, in the world to burn the fuckers. They just smother the fire. 

And that reminds me that I have now seen the truly dangerous fireweed in places in the yard where I've never seen it before. 

So. I spent an entire day, which was truly a glorious day with a clear sky and cool temperatures, cursing and swearing and bemoaning my fate, wishing I had a tiny house at the beach where nothing grows except for possibly a palm tree or a sea grape or herbs and flowers in pots. 

Oh wait. I just remembered sandspurs which do actually grow at the beach and which have tormented me my entire life in Florida. 

So much for that idea. 

I did just go shut the chickens up and the full moon rising almost knocked me to my knees. Although I am not sure, I don't think that global climate change is going to fuck the moon up. It may be wreaking havoc on our environment on both personal and universal levels but that moon- she's there. I imagine that she's looking down on us with amused disdain but she's going to be just fine. 

And I want to add one more thing- I got the sweetest card in the real mail from Charlotte in Texas and that was absolutely the most positive, purely good thing that happened today. 

Thank-you, Charlotte. I have shared your message with Steve Reed. 

Oh wait! Here's my first crocheted potholder. I feel as if I have now reentered childhood.

Isn't that ridiculously cheerful and childlike? 

Yes. Yes it is. 

Go look at the moon if that's a possibility. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which Light Poked Its Way Into The Darkness

Today has been brighter than any day in quite awhile. After yesterday's storms the yard was littered with downed branches and twigs and limbs but the sky was a perfect cerulean blue. Liz of the West and I had tentatively planned to drive up to Metcalfe, Georgia to eat at Mary's Kitchen and we firmed up our plans and by noon I had my laundry on the line and was dressed in my finest overalls and we drove up the two-lane back road that's so small that there is no sign delineating when one has left Florida and moved on to Georgia. There are farms and farm houses, old cabins that one feels as if one could simply pull up to, get out of the car, open the front door and move into a completely different, sweet life. An old Methodist Community Church where the pastor is someone I used to be in plays with, his wife a woman I love and adore. As I drove I caught Liz up on what's been going on in my world and she caught me up on hers. We've known each other since before Jessie was born and indeed, she was with me when that precious little bebe came into the world, feisty yet content to be here.
She and I know where the bodies are, if you know what I mean.
We've been together through births, deaths, divorces, weddings, and profane poetry readings.
I love her.

I've spoken of Mary's Kitchen before. It's a tiny little cafe/restaurant across the road from a wood-processing plant on a railroad track. It's in a small old house and we usually eat on  the porch but it was just too chilly today to we sat at a table inside by a window, surrounded by other folks, local people, I would think.
Every day the menu changes and here was today's.

There's never a wrong thing to eat at Mary's. Never. Eight dollars (on Friday) for a main (which comes with a starch, aka delicious carb offering), two sides, bread of some sort, dessert, and tea or lemonade. I have no idea how they stay open. 

Liz got grouper, I got fried catfish. 

There was also a generous salad that I ordered that did not get into the photo. Catfish takes a long time to eat because, like mullet, you have to sort of filet it as you eat it. It's fried up, tiny bones and all and the sweet white meat is worth it. I couldn't even finish it all. We took our time and were the last people in the place and were brought two pieces of the most delicious streusel cake I've ever eaten. No crap dessert at Mary's. It's homemade. I had seen other people getting different desserts but I suppose by the time we had finished our lunch the cake was all that was left and I'm glad it was because I probably would not have ordered it, thus preventing me from having what will now be one of my best dessert memories of all time. 

We paid up when we couldn't eat one more bite and drove down another back road, looking for a cemetery we'd found in the woods once but have never been able to find again. We didn't find it today, either, and mused that perhaps we had a shared hallucinatory experience that day although I'm almost certain I blogged about it. I should do a search. We didn't really drive too far because the road was somewhat of a mess- it's a dirt road and yesterday's weather had left downed branches all over it along with somewhat muddy conditions. But that was okay. We'll try another time. 

Liz had to go meet up with some folks in town so after good-byes she got in her car and headed back to Tallahassee and I, in the spirit of lightness I was in, brought in the laundry and did a little ironing, a little crocheting. I'm enjoying this silly exercise of childlike needlework, making something useful with a crochet hook and cotton thread. Anything that keeps my hands busy while I watch TV makes me happy. 

I got pictures from Jessie. Vergil's mama is in town and she and the boys are drawing track-hoes and playing violin. I know that August and Levon are thrilled to have her there. I'm glad the weather is good for her. It's going to be chilly tonight but warmer tomorrow and Sunday and sunny all the way through. I need to get out in my yard and pick up the detritus from the storm and perhaps try to do something about the Florida betony that's overtaking my yard. 

It's been a good day and I've let the news unfold on its own although I see that Colonel Vindman has been relieved of his duties and escorted out of the White House under orders of our present dick-tator. Once again, just when I think that we've hit the lowest of the low, the floor drops down another fifty feet and it would appear that this particular cellar of evil and unthinkable actions knows no end to its depths and slimy demons. 

Well, we know who sleeps among those snakes of slime and Colonel Vindman is not one of them and I hope that someday there is a statue of him in Washington labeled, A True American Hero.

I won't live to see it but perhaps my grandchildren will. 

Friday night. The church is wailing, the temperature is dropping, the martini is cold, the bread is rising. Cake was eaten, my heart was lightened by time spent with a beloved friend. 

There was laughter. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

You Should See Those Walls

I washed walls today.
Yes. I. Washed. Walls. Today.
In my old bedroom. I don't think I've ever washed an entire room of walls in my life. This also included cleaning (at least from the front) the louvered doors of the closets.
Every fucking louver.
What I couldn't reach on the step ladder to clean with vinegar and Fabuloso I did the best I could with a mop. Yes. I mopped walls.

So, yeah. That was what I did today.

It's been windy all day long. Great gusts that have brought down branches. Then it started raining about two hours ago. It's a little floody in the yard. I cannot BELIEVE we still have power.
(Knock wood, knock wood, knock wood.)
It did flicker once, twice, and then by holy miracle and Pope decree, it came back on again.

I listened to about twenty minutes of the Orange Intestine's victory speech.

That man is the president of the United States.

I really don't have anything else to say.

Oh wait. I do. And this is the only thing bringing me the slenderest shiver of joy today- the Rolling Stones announced their upcoming No Filters USA Tour 2020. It starts in May in San Diego and ends in July in Atlanta, Georgia.
Bless those old boys.

That's all for tonight.

Love...Ms. Moon

Knock, Knock. Who's There? The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse. That's Not Funny. I Know

I went to Costco and met Jessie and August and Levon this morning. I didn't need a thing but I pushed the cart and talked to August while Levon held on to the cart and walked with it, thus pushing it in his mind, I'm sure, while holding his mom's hand on the other side. It was a slow ride but we made it through.
We're not sure what's going on with August's hair. Something's up with it. It's not exactly curly now but it's pretty wild. He just truly discovered knock-knock jokes.
This one made him laugh longer and louder than I've ever heard him laugh:
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Lemmy."
"Lemmy who?"
"Lemmy in, I have to poop."
There's also the "Lemmy in, I have to pee" version which makes him laugh almost as much.
Two real belly-rippers there, y'all.

I was so glad to be with them. This anxiety has its claws in me. But what do you do? Staying in bed and trembling would be the worst thing possible. So a trip to Costco with Jessie and the boys was a lifesaver.
After we finished there I had to go sign a contract with my husband on a rental agreement. That didn't take long and then we met up with the Jessie and the comedian and the track-hoe-guy at Maria, Maria's. The food was was wonderful and a couple came in and sat next to us and had no idea what to order so they asked us what we were eating and we told them and that's what they ordered.
I hope they enjoyed it as much as we did.

After lunch I went to three thrift stores. Shopping at thrift stores is a decent distraction from anxiety or at least it's something you can do with anxiety for short periods of time. The first place had a cat named Sampson who followed me around and asked for scratches and I gave him plenty. I didn't buy anything there. They had some cashmere but in either the wrong sizes or the wrong color and it all cost too much.
The second place was one of those godly places. They play Christian music on the speaker system.
You can only imagine how little time I spent there.
And then on the way home I stopped at the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus thrift store which is also a godly place but they don't play any music. They didn't have much inventory either.
So. Three thrift stores and I didn't purchase so much as a martini glass or a children's book. I removed myself from the sticky web that had seemed to capture me and got in the car and drove home the long way, past many trees and farm houses, up and down the rolling road.

When I got home I took the trash and I cleaned out the chicken house.
Same as it ever was, always and always.
I listened to a few moments of the vote count on public radio. I have to stop here and say that Mitt Romney is far more of a man than I ever gave him credit for being.
Last night I listened to a few moments of the SOTU speech but I couldn't go on with it as the Republicans cheered and yelled for their Anti-Christ-ian Donnie Johnnie.

Jessie and I were talking today about different Democratic candidates and I said that I didn't think it mattered. That I think that Trump will win again, either through election interference or the fact that his supporters can't wait to do it again.
I got behind this vehicle today in traffic.

Need some close-ups? 

So clever. So classy. 

This is where we are. 

Not to mention in a place where the president refuses to shake the Speaker of the House's hand and where she, after the speech, rips her copy of it in two. 

We're supposed to be in for some big weather tomorrow. Not metaphorically. If I don't post tomorrow night that'll probably be the reason why. 

Probably. 

Hang tight, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Kids And Music And Books. A Pretty Good Remedy

Today was another day of sheer knuckle-whitening as I held on and did what needed to be done. The anxiety was almost overwhelming but I took my walk, I went to Publix, I made our supper for tonight. A huge pot of the squash and sweet potato and cashew goodness that we love so much and a beautiful loaf of sourdough.
I got the supper ready early because we were to attend first a book fair and then a concert of Gibson's at the his and Owen's school this evening.
Mr. Moon got home early and we drove to the school which is not very far from where we live, actually, and met up with the Hartmann's and tried to help the boys pick out their books and then they picked the ones they wanted and Magnolia got one too. While we were there I asked Gibson how it was going with Aida, the little girl he told the Beauty Parlor lady all about when they spent the night.
"Are you in love?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
But she's been sick lately and so he hasn't been able to woo his lady.
"Maybe tomorrow," he said wistfully.
"I hope so, I told him."
Then it was time for the concert and off we went to the cafetorium.
I have attended quite a few events in this room in the past four years and I have to say it's one of the most boring spaces I've ever been in. White walls, fluorescent lights. One wall with something inspirational written on it.
Tables. Chairs.
The end.
The stage does have red velvet-like curtains so that's a treat.

Anyway, here's a picture Lily asked me to take of her and her Mini-Me before the house lights dimmed.

Owen sort of hates that and sort of loves it.

Now. If you recall, Owen hates performing with every molecule of his being. Not only does he hate performing, he can't bear watching anyone else he knows do it. It's always been a part of who he is. As I've said before, even when he was a very young sprout, if any of us started singing or dancing he'd say, "Stop it! Stop it!" 

So when the stage curtains opened the there was his brother on the top row and the singing began and Gibson was doing what Gibson does which is to give it his all, Owen almost lost his mind. He hid his head in his mother's bosom. 

But Gibson was having the time of his life. 

He sang with gusto! He sang with full and generous expression! He sang with joy! 

The concert's theme seemed to center on hearts which is appropriate in that Valentine's Day is coming up. The songs were all about inclusivity and love for our fellow humans and it was sweet. 

Between that and Maggie sitting on my lap and then hopping off and then coming back to sit again and talking to Owen I found myself in a completely different headspace. I felt cheered and far less anxious. I felt...better. 

I swear, just a few hours ago I contemplated calling Lily to tell her that I just couldn't make it tonight. 

I am so glad I didn't. 

Now we're home and I'm heating up the soup and will slice the bread. 

We shall see what tomorrow brings. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Mystery Of Chemicals

That is the only picture I took today. It's what we here in the south call a "Japanese Magnolia" and I did not plant this one. They do best when given lots of free sky and full sunshine and this one does not get either but it has grown since I've moved here. It is still here. It still offers its blooms to the universe.

It was so warm and springlike today. The sky was as clear as in that picture. And something about the light and the temperature and the soft warm air must have stirred something in me that would have best been left unstirred. I guess that's what happened. I don't really know but a profound sadness filled me even though I should have been thrilled at this weather, thawed out and rejuvenated.
It was not so.

I took a walk and No Man Lord was sitting at the table he's set up in his front yard with a glass candleholder and his Bible, a small wooden cross propped on it. When I walked past him on my way to the county line I swear I didn't see him underneath his neon-orange jacket and black hat. I saw the jacket and did not stare but I honestly thought he'd hung the jacket from the chair although I guess he was huddled underneath it all because on my way home, he roused up and appeared from the jacket and he waved and I waved back and said, "Good morning!" and went on.
Sometimes, when I am in sadness my eyes and brain don't seem to connect very well at all, or perhaps it's just that my brain doesn't process things the way it should. I know this is true. I can't make decisions, even the simplest ones like whether I should collect the trash from the bathrooms first or start the laundry. Everything seems huge even as nothing seems important at all.

I did gather up the trash and recycle things and found two old lamps I had stashed in a closet so long ago I'd forgotten about them completely and took all of that to the trash depot where I left the lamps and an old skillet that I haven't used in years, setting them where people leave things that others may be able to use. I went to the post office and did laundry and eventually, finally, I made it to the car and drove to Monticello to return library books. I drove around Monticello for awhile, trying to decide whether or not to stop for something to eat. I was at the point of low-blood sugar that, compounded with my brain fog, created a situation where I couldn't make a decision to save my life. Also, it would seem that most of the places to eat in Monticello are closed on Mondays. I finally just went to the farmer's market and bought some squash and some very plump and juicy-looking green Vidalia onions. On my way home I remembered the Hilltop and although I really wanted one of their chicken salad sandwiches, I just could not make the effort, came home and ate leftovers and managed to get the ironing board and iron out and stood and ironed and watched "Schitt's Creek" as mindlessly and automatically as a robot.

I listened to a less than an hour today of the wrap-up of the sham impeachment trial and that certainly did not improve how I felt. Trump's attorneys lied and lied again and again, defending what cannot be defended and the House managers tried and tried again and again to make a case for removal but they sounded defeated and even sadder than I was. I finally shut it off. I had no energy for anger yet I know it's there inside me, just waiting for its own chance to be stirred up, reactivated, recharged.

*******

There's a stray cat who's been hanging around recently. Have I mentioned this? Most likely. Every evening, just after sunset, he comes in close to the back porch and cries the most plaintive of cries. Mr. Moon and I agreed that he's begging us for food, perhaps for shelter. Who knows? Perhaps even for love. And I want so badly to feed him but I know what will happen and lately Maurice has become even more insane in her attempts to keep Jack out of the house. They fight every day and it's not always Maurice who starts it but she does sit at the place where Jack comes in on the porch and waits for him to try and come in and if he shows his face she hisses and yowls and spits and curses at him. Last night as I was typing she wanted to get on my keyboard and I gently removed her whereupon she grabbed my hand with the force of a panther and bit down on it so hard that I swear she almost broke some bones within it. It ached for hours although strangely, her teeth and claws only left pinpoints of blood. I really don't know how she does that. But I can only imagine what would happen if we tried to bring a new cat into the fold.
It just would not work.

Eh, well.

I feel like I should apologize for this post with its narcissistic dreary ramblings but look- this is sometimes how it feels when you're a person with depression. The sky can be so blue and yet, the heart can be so gray. And if you ever feel that way, you know what I mean and you may need to hear that you are not the only one. That this does not mean you are crazy but that you are a human being with what we so euphemistically may call "challenges." And that we may well wake up the next day feeling foolish and ridiculous for having wasted a day of this life feeling so hopeless, so helpless. Absolutely mystified at how these moods can come upon us.
And if you don't ever feel this way, perhaps someone you love does and these words can help to explain a tiny bit of how the person who suffers from depression can perceive things.
It is as mysterious to us as it is to you.

I'm going to go make up a loaf's worth of sourdough now. And I'm going to go to bed early. As Moira said in an episode of Schitt's Creek- "Let's go. I've had enough waking hours for this day."

Love...Ms. Moon

Gloom Dispersed

When I walked into my bathroom this morning I was struck by how lovely the sun streaming through the front windows and filtering through the blues and yellows was. How cheerful and glowing. The clouds have finally disappeared and we had sun all day long and it was a joy. I do love the rain but after days of cloudy gloom and drizzles, it's just a small but true miracle to see the sun again.

Last night Lily asked Jessie and me if we'd like to go get pedicures today. Both girls had dad-childcare going on and could get out of the house on their own which is of course another small miracle and this morning we stayed in touch as to schedule and so forth and when I'd finished most of my chores I got dressed and drove to Lily's and picked her up and then drove to Jessie's and we picked her up and we went to a nail salon which advertises as "organic" but that may refer to the fact that anything which contains the carbon molecule is, in chemical terms, organic unless UPI nail polish has suddenly changed its formulas.

Remember the last time I got a pedicure and the old guy who did my feet told me that they were "so dirty"?
That was such a horrible experience. But today was completely different. Again, I had an older guy, older than let's say thirty but far younger than me. But he was so very, very nice. By the time he was done with all of the magic, my feet looked as good as they've ever looked in my life and I have a new friend.
When we left the salon, he called out to me, "Good-bye, Mary!" and I called back, "Good-bye, Stephen!"
I felt so special.

My long-time favorite nail color, "I'm Not Really A Waitress" by OPI. 

Then we went and had some extremely good middle eastern food and then we went to Goodwill! But the most interesting thing we found there was Ms. Melissa who was also shopping.

While all of this girl-gadding-about was going on, Vergil and Boppy and August and Levon took the small boat out to go fishing on the St. Mark's river. This of course thrilled my husband and I hope it made Levon and August and Vergil happy too. Here's a picture that Vergil sent.

Glen told me that Levon had that paddle in the water almost the entire trip. That's what he wanted to do and why not? It wasn't hurting a thing. No fish were caught, not even a nibble, which is sad but Mr. Moon brought home the little bait shrimp and just boiled them and I've made a cocktail sauce so there is that. 

I hear that the Super Bowl is on tonight. I mean, you just can't not know somehow although I have no idea who's playing in it and couldn't care less. Mr. Moon will be watching it but in a vast and grave disappointment he discovered that our patchwork TV reception options do not include the network which is showing it although I'm pretty sure he can watch it online. Stephen, my new friend, told me that he does not get it either but will be watching it at a wings place which makes sense because wings seem to be the Super Bowl food to enjoy while watching the game. I've never really grasped the pleasure in eating wings anymore than I've grasped watching the Super Bowl but I am aware that tastes and pleasures differ. 

I respect that. 

If I watched a football game I'd be constantly worried about brain injuries amongst the players and I don't need that sort of stress. I do like the fact that many players now have dreads and other long hair coiffures (mostly because I believe that the more hair, the better protected those heads are) and those guys have some nice butts but neither of these things interest me enough to keep me glued to a screen. I have done my job in that I made a snack of nachos for my husband and that's more than he asks me to do. 

Yes. It has been Sunday but it was a fine and pretty one. I got to hang out with two of my daughters and have learned more about them and have laughed a lot while at the same time, my husband got to go fishing with his grandsons which is something that makes him so very happy. I haven't looked at the news all day and it would appear that the sun still rose, shone, and set. 

Off to go make supper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Keeping The Black Dog At Bay

It's been another chilly dreary day. Everything's gloomy including me.
I didn't even leave my house until about an hour ago when I went to check eggs and pick salad greens.
I did do some sewing today, finishing up the curtains I wanted to make for the bathroom. First I did the blue middle panel and of course this was the easiest sewing that can be done. Iron and turn in a hem, iron that, sew. The yellow panels in the side windows I made from pieces of cloth that have been hanging there for years. I simply gave the sides a tiny hem and both ends a deeper one and then hung the hemmed sections over the rods. I've had this yellow fabric forever and ever. I think (and I'm pretty sure about this) I got it from a sale bin outside a Woolworth's in St. Pete, Florida approximately five thousand years ago. I don't even know what its fiber content is.

Whatever it is, it's held up nicely through the years and is such a lovely yard-egg-yolk yellow. Almost a saffron. That picture doesn't do it justice. But it was very enjoyable, I have to say, stitching it up finally and at last. I have to tell you though that when I first got everything hung it looked and felt so boring. Like a flag for a country which wasn't afraid of color but wasn't searching for interesting symbols, either. It also looked so tidy. I was used to the Kantha throw I'd had hanging in the middle for a few years, the un-hemmed yellow panels. And now it looked too straight, too boring. so I threw a lacy thing over the middle panel and a scarf I've had forever over one of the panels and a piece of silk I have over the other. It's a little better. 

I have an abhorrence for the sort of decorating that involves matchy-matchy stuff and wallpaper borders and walls and counter tops with nothing of interest on them. I like things that make me remember, that are pretty and sometimes even beautiful to me. As to what anyone else thinks- who cares?

I remember the family home I lived in from the age of twelve to eighteen and how it was decorated in the oh! so stylish! burnt oranges and avocado greens, the Objets d'art displayed properly, the wall-to-wall carpet, the one built-in bookshelf of books, everything in its place, the shining sterility of the bathrooms, clean enough to perform surgery in. And I think of the chaos and sadness and fear living right within all of that perfect order and sterility and it's no wonder that I embraced for my own living spaces a hippie mindset of surrounding myself with things I love and that bring with them their own memories and which clang and whisper together to make an environmental music of their own which calms me and pleases me. 

Mostly. 

Sometimes I want to tear everything down and throw everything away to have a more Zen-space but I know me. Before too long this and that would start to show up and I would feel more comfortable and at home. 

I suppose that when doing the Marie Kondo test of holding each object and asking oneself if it sparks joy, we must remember that for some of us, a whole lot of things spark joy. 

Or perhaps our definitions of joy differ. 

Who knows? Not me. 

So. Saturday night and I already feel as if it's Sunday although look at these pictures I got today.

Magnolia's new expression which she wears with glee.

And August, who got to meet Daniel Tiger today. Jessie said that he was so shy and so happy. I think you can see that in his face. 

I'm going to go put together an eggplant parmesan made with the leftover spaghetti sauce from a few nights ago and slices of eggplant that I dipped in egg and milk and then flour and panko and baked in the oven. I have bread rising. I have greens from the garden, as I said. 

And I have a bathroom which lets in more light and has more color and that's good. Light and color are always good. 

I don't know a lot, but of that fact I feel fairly certain. As I always say, life is too damn short for beige. And burnt orange and avocado as well. Unless it's an actual burnt orange or avocado. In which case, that's cool. 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon