Signs Of The Time

 

My confederate rose is finally blooming but way, way up in the sky where it's trying to get light. I have such a shady yard which is great but it also makes it quite hard to grow a lot of things I'd love to grow like fruit trees and flowering bushes. 

I had a pretty good day. I decided to take my walk on Whitehouse Road which I haven't done in a long time and it was okay but I was completely horrified by the number of Trump signs. My road, as I have said, is quite mixed as to race but Whitehouse Road is not. There are some truly huge houses on it, mini-plantations, I would almost say, and most of them have Trump signs, Trump banners, huge American flags, those black and white flags with a blue line in them showing support for law enforcement, AND "stop socialism" signs. I am not shitting you. Assholes don't even know what socialism is. And the irony of all of this being on Whitehouse Road is not lost on me. 
Remember the house that goes crazy decorating for holidays? Especially Christmas and Halloween? Well, they've got the skeletons and ghosts and dragons and witches and tombstones all set up as well as a plentiful bounty of all the signs and flags I just mentioned. 

Oh yeah. I forgot the "Don't Tread On Me" flags. It's a veritable spooky festival and I am not talking about the giant spiders. 

So when I got home I made a real effort to figure out where I could get some Biden/Harris signs and it turned out that in my county the place to get them was the house of a couple who live right off Whitehouse Road and in fact, I had walked within about half a mile of their house. I emailed them and they wrote right back and asked me how many I wanted and I said, "Two," and next thing you know, I'd driven over there and they were such nice people who have gone to a great deal of trouble and effort to get these signs to give out. They'll even deliver them to you! So I got my signs after a little chat and I stuck them in the ground in front of the house when I got home. I surely hope they don't get stolen but wouldn't be surprised if they are. It really annoys the crap out of me that Biden signs around here are getting snatched left and right while my neighbor's Trump sign (one of the few in this immediate area) has been up since 2016 without being disturbed. I can only assume that Democrats are more respectful of others and their property than Republicans. 
Which...duh. 

Here's an interesting thing- the company that we get our Medicare supplemental insurance from gave us a robocall today and I couldn't believe what it said which was that they did not think that Donald Trump has done an adequate job protecting Americans from the Coronavirus and they were asking their customers to vote for Joe Biden. I shouldn't have deleted the message because I'd really like to listen to it again to see if I could suss out whether it's truly legit. This is a HUGE company. AARP endorsed, etc. If it is legitimate, I am incredibly impressed and somewhat heartened. 

I spent part of the day listening to the hearings of Amy Coney Barrett being held in Washington. I love how all the Republicans are like, "How DARE you attack this incredibly qualified WOMAN for her religion?!" when of course if she were Muslim they'd be shitting themselves and screaming about Sharia Law. Of course, no practicing Muslim is in any danger of facing the House or the Senate anytime soon and certainly not under this administration. What a travesty this whole appointment is! But y'all already know that. 

So. As usual, things were up and down, not only here but everywhere, I feel sure. 

Tomorrow I go for my very invasive procedure appointment where my uterine lining will be observed, not for any problems I'm having but to satisfy the doctor who prescribes my bio-identical hormones. Not looking forward to that at all. I just wrote a paragraph with WAY too much information in it and lucky for you, I deleted it. Come back tomorrow and see if I go into details about how it went. 

Here's a picture that came up in my memories on FB this morning. 

I think I've probably posted it before. That was taken at least thirty-two years ago. Wasn't Mr. Moon the handsomest thing you've ever seen? And look at little Lily! Check out my Reebok high-tops. Man, I loved those shoes. They were so damn comfortable. I felt invincible in them. 

That's all I have for today. Time to go finish up supper prep. I've got a huge venison roast from the freezer in the big Dutch oven after I pressure-cooked it and now I need to add the potatoes and carrots. I hope it's fit to eat. I have to say that venison is mighty darn lean. Which is good. 

Y'all take care. Let's all hold on to each other during the next few weeks and hope for the best. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Trigger Warning- Another Lasting Aspect Of Sexual Abuse

 I am so very glad I bought those dutch ovens. I honestly didn't think I would be using the large one. That is a big ass pot. But I've used it twice now and both times have appreciated the width of it. Circumference? Diameter?
Whatever.
When I made jam in it, it provided a larger area exposed to the heat which helped the jam thicken faster as it boiled. And I used it Friday night to make chicken and dumplings and again, I had far more area in which to cook my dumplings and the more dumplings in the pot, the better. I've used the smaller one so many times already. Tonight, chili is simmering in it. It's such a good size for many of the meals I cook. And here's something else I've realized- the knobs on the lids are better and sturdier than the ones on the Le Crueset. I wish I hadn't had to discover this because the way I did was to accidentally (of course) drop the lid of one of those pans and damn if the metal knob wasn't made in two pieces and split almost in two leaving a very sharp edge on which I promptly cut my finger. The knobs on the "cheap" stuff, however, are all once piece. I checked after I broke the other one. 
Harumph. 
Luckily I can order a new knob from Le Creuset but of course it's going to probably cost at least $25 with shipping. 
Again- harumph. 

God I've been useless today. 
No. Really. 
The most exciting thing I did was to pot up a few rootlings. 

The inspiration for this came with a new old pot. New to me. It was in the car that Mr. Moon bought and was detailing the other day. The lady had taken everything she wanted out of the car so I felt like it was okay to use. I mean, it's just a regular, used planter pot. 

But it's pretty cool in a "modern" sort of way and was a good size for a starter home for the polka dot begonia stems I'd rooted. I'll give it to one of the kids. Repotting and potting plants always seems like a game of musical chairs to me. Or one of those shell exchange fests that hermit crabs have. If you've never heard of this or seen footage of it happening, I suggest you give over four minutes of your life to check it out HERE which comes courtesy of BBC Earth. But anyway, plants, like hermit crabs, do outgrow their homes and must be put into bigger pots while their outgrown pots can be used for smaller plants that need bigger homes right down to the ones that suit the babies. 

Before you know it, you've changed the entire plant arrangement of your life and new plants, which need the most careful tending, have to be someplace where you will remember to water them regularly while rooting is established and so forth. That little table in my mud/laundry room is where I keep my most fragile rootlings and the kitchen porch is sort of the step-up nursery and by the time I was done today, everything had been rearranged. To add to the fun, any of the plants on the little porch that the chickens might enjoy pecking at must be elevated, otherwise, they'll be pruned down to the nubs. The birds seem to especially like begonias. 

AND WHO CARES?

Well, I do. Sort of. 

But that's the level of activity I did today. 

Speaking of birds nibbling plants, yesterday while the boys were here, we saw Miss Tweety in the garden. Since Mr. Moon did his chicken-proofing, we had not seen one hen or rooster in there but suddenly- there was the tiniest chicken of all having her way with the dirt and plants. Turns out there was a hole in the fence that Mr. Moon and the boys fixed. Here's Levon, cutting the wire to get the job done. 

I love that picture. 

So. Chili's cooking, my man is out doing yet another manly activity and I'm just...here. Sunday. A thing happened yesterday that I've been thinking about and trying to process. August and I were reading The Five Hundred Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins which is a very good story and in which we were both totally invested when there was a part about someone getting a spanking. August laughed and laughed. 

"Have you ever gotten a spanking?" I asked him. 

He looked at me like I was insane. 

"No," he said. 

"I did," I said. And we went on but suddenly I remembered the last spanking I got. I had to have been at least fifteen, maybe sixteen, and my family had been on a camping trip attended by a lot of the teachers at the community college where my stepfather worked. There had been a boy there, one I knew well from school, and that weekend we sort of had our eyes on each other. It was completely innocent. Not so much as a hand-holding but my stepfather noticed. I realize now that he thought I was his and his alone and he couldn't say anything because that would have been too weird. But when we got home, I had to go to the bathroom, and I did, and I took the comics out of the Sunday paper with me and when I got out he yelled at me for avoiding the work of unpacking and not "helping your mother." This was something he lambasted me for frequently. I can remember him getting angry with me for not helping my mother bathe my little brothers and thinking, "Why don't you do it? They're your kids?" As far as I know, he never so much as changed one of their shirts, must less a diaper. And he certainly never bathed them. If Mother couldn't do these things, I did them.

But on this occasion, he was so angry that he actually hit my butt a couple of times. I was so shamed and humiliated. And I had no idea why he had gotten so worked up about me going to the bathroom when of course, he was just looking for an excuse to punish me for something that was as sweet and as natural as anything in this world could be. 

When this memory hit me, I stumbled over my words as I was reading the Dr. Seuss book and had to pull myself together to continue. For some reason, it had never really crossed my mind how completely fucked up and weird and truly perverted that had been. I cannot remember if my mother witnessed this but I have the sense that she did. Did she say anything? Again- I don't remember. I don't know.
But I don't think he ever hit me again although that was certainly not the last time he shamed me, humiliated me, made me feel dirty and guilty. 

Oh. The layers of the stinking, rotten onion we know as sexual abuse. 

I will tell you that that boy ended up being the first boy I ever held hands with and that memory is as sweet as he was. Nothing can spoil that. I still dream of him sometimes. I hope he is still with us, as bright-souled as he was then. 

Back to the present.

Love...Ms. Moon

And All Was Well

Very fuzzy picture of a very strong boy demonstrating his muscular strength. This was last night at supper and yes, the "dining room" here at Casa Luna has closets in it and I should probably be more faithful about closing them. Oh well. This is a very old house and we use it to suit our purposes. It is not a museum, it is a home where we live and store things and eat supper with little boys with great aspirations as pertains to strength. 

As you can see, August also has huge, strong muscles. Or, at least the face he needs to convince us that he does. The only way we could get them to eat last night was to fork food into their mouths saying, "Eat another bite of strong food!" And they would take it and try their muscles again. 
Turns out that chicken and dumplings are very good for muscles. 

After supper comes bath time. Of course. This is always a great deal of fun. Levon was getting tired but was still in a playful mood and August, who was also tired, got kinda crazy as children do. But he wasn't too crazy. Just a little bit crazy. 

They let me wash their hair and give them crazy hairdos. August wanted me to scratch his back with the loofah and so I did. What luxury! 

Of course I was a little worried about bedtime because Levon has never spent the night away from home without a parent but he never once asked for Mama or Daddy and he let me get him in his pajamas after a little naked running about which children seem to want to do after baths and I don't blame them. If I had those perfect little bodies I'd never want to wear clothes. Teeth brushing was a naked activity too. 

Would you look at the eyelashes on that kid? 
August wasn't quite as easy to get pajamas on. He was still in the wired state. But we managed. And then the three of us laid down on my bed and I read the books I'd picked out which were "Five Little Monkeys", "The Owl and the Pussycat", and of course- "The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza." I bet I've read that particular book more times than any other book and I still love it. 

After the last page, August got in his bed beside Boppy's side of the bed and I put Levon in his Pac'n'Play on my side of the bed and there were kisses and pats, and covers and stuffed animals and within ten minutes, they were out. Not one fuss. 

I consider this to be a sort of miracle. Zippy was happy to keep watch over the sleeping Levon. 

I don't think that Mr. Moon or I slept too well. Not that the boys woke up in the night although Levon did have a little shouted word in his sleep that woke us both wide awake. I believe we were on high alert, all night though, listening for every cough, every rustle. Mr. Moon finally got up and went to his chair so he could relax and by the time I really got to sleep, Levon was up and awake. It was a little after seven and still dark. 
"Come cuddle with me for a little while in my cozy bed," I begged the child.
"No," he said. "It's wake-up time for me. And Auga."
And indeed, Brother Auga was wide awake too and they scampered into the Glen Den to wake up their grandfather. I got up for a minute and got Levon a half a banana and asked August if he wanted the other half which he politely declined. I went back to bed and Mr. Moon snoozed in his chair with both boys while they watched TV. At one point, August came and got back in his bed and then stood up and said, "Mer!" and got in bed with me and we snuggled for a moment and had a nice chat about the colors of birds. Then he got up and ran back to his Boppy and I fell back asleep and am so ashamed to report that I slept until around 9:30. I was horrified! And I'd been having terrible dreams about all of my babies and grandbabies being in peril so it was not fun sleep at all. 

I jumped out of bed and ran to check on everyone and of course they were fine and wanted pancakes and so, pretty soon, there were pancakes. After breakfast there was outside time with the boys helping Boppy do tractor and car things and then it was time to read more books and we did. 

When Mama and Daddy came to get them, they were happy to see their parents but they still hadn't fussed any. Jessie brought us subs from Publix and we all ate lunch and Levon was so tired and August ran around like a rabbit and at one point he sat down and said, "I am so ridiculous," which cracked us all up. 

After they left, I took my time and tidied up the house and swept. Actually, Vergil stayed for awhile and he and Mr. Moon did some bow and arrow target practice and probably some other things which I am not aware of because it was all out at the garage and I just can't keep track of that nor should I. 

I can guarantee you that we will sleep very well tonight and I hope those boys do too. 

I am proud of Levon for being such a brave, big boy and I am proud of Jessie and Vergil for raising such sweet and polite and funny boys. I hear that they are not always that way at home but as long as they are for me and their grandfather, I'm happy. I guess grandchildren and their grandparents have a deal- we spoil them with cookies and TV and they use pretty good manners. 
Or something like that. Mostly, it was just so sweet and gratifying to know that they feel comfortable and happy here. I do understand that treats and TV have a lot to do with it but I know it goes much farther and deeper than that. When August came and snuggled with me of his own accord, I felt as if I had been given the keys to the kingdom, the crown and the glory. 

I have gone back and answered comments from two days ago and will strive to catch up entirely. 
Meanwhile, just know that I am grateful for each and every one of you who come here to read whether you comment or not but it does please my soul to see what you have to say. 

Time to make the supper! And then...bed. 

Mmmmmmm....

Sweet dreams for us all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Lagniappe

I can't believe I almost forgot. Today would have been John Lennon's eightieth birthday if...

Well. I still can't really talk about that. But a friend of mine posted this video on Facebook and it brought tears to my eyes and I wanted to share it here. 

St. Dolly Parton, whom I have taken to calling "the universal solvent," singing St. John's and St. Yoko's Imagine. 

Now more than ever. 

They're not the only ones. Happy Birthday, dear John. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 These are oatmeal, raisin, chocolate chip, pecan cookies that I made before the boys came. That is what grandmothers do- they make cookies. 

I've done some other things today too, like scrub out the tub which hasn't been used in yonks so that it would be nice and clean for the little boy butts. The rubber ducks and octopi are waiting on the window sill be played with and I am sure they will be overjoyed to have a soapy swim with the fellas. 

So. I cannot believe how many of you do come back and read my replies to comments. Thank you! And ironically, today I am probably not going to be able to answer them because of our company. Right now they are doing this. 

I made them all popcorn and they are watching something on the TV with their Boppy. Actually, they've now finished the popcorn and are out collecting eggs together. They seem to be so happy to be here. Jessie told them last night that we'd asked them to stay tonight and August immediately ran to his room shouting, "I have to pack!" This morning Jessie wrote me that she is never going to tell them again that they're coming over here until ten minutes before it's time to leave because they were just so excited that they were driving her crazy. August got up early and Levon kept asking if it was time yet. 
When they got here I asked Levon if he was going to sleep with us tonight. He pointed his finger at me and said, "Just you!" 
Hmmm... We shall see. He may well end up sleeping beside me in our bed and that will be okay if he doesn't kick and crowd too much. As I told Jessie before she left, after all these years I still sometimes wake up and check to see where the baby is. I slept with my own young'uns for so long that I'll probably always do that. Sometimes I feel Jack by my hip at night and my first thought is to wonder why the baby is that far down in the bed. A tiny panic before I realize it's the cat, not a child. I give him a little pat and fall back to sleep. 

I have carrots and onions and celery and green beans simmering in chicken broth, the cooked chicken cooling on a plate and in just a little while, I'll make dumplings to go in the pot. They do like good food, those boys, and are not very picky. I'm grateful for that although it is always fun to use the grandchildren as an excuse to eat things like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. And hotdogs. Maybe next time. 

It is absolutely a dream to be able to hug and kiss these kids again. THAT, at least, feels right and normal in these times of such tremulous uncertainty. 

I see the men are coming back in with the eggs. I better end this now and go see how many they found. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Day, No Dollar

 Y'all. Somehow we must have missed a few eggs yesterday. These are the ones we gathered today. There are twenty in that bowl and none of them from little Violet or little Tweety which leaves thirteen hens. Twenty eggs from thirteen hens in one day? This is not possible. And let me add that Mr. Moon said there's another hen on the nest as we speak. How could we have missed that many eggs yesterday?

Earlier this afternoon when there were only sixteen in the bowl, I laid them out to see which ones appeared to be from the same hens. Only those three pairs at the top are, in my opinion, laid by the same lady. Some of the others may appear very similar but do not match any others exactly and trust me- each hen's eggs are completely unique to her whether of shape, color, size, "finish" (some are glossy, some matte, some almost rough), or markings like little freckles. 
It is quite obvious that either I am one of those people who have learned to be amused and fascinated by the smallest things or that I really just need to get a life. 
But in all honesty, I am amused and fascinated by eggs and they still thrill me after all these years, these perfectly shaped ovals of pure protein. The way they feel in the hand, the way they look in the nest and in the bowl and the way they look on the plate when they are cooked. 
They are magic to me. One of the best pragmatic miracles of all. 

So. What did I do today besides play with eggs? Well, I cleaned out the hen house because...shit happens. I got to talk to a friend on the phone whom I hardly ever talk to and it was intensely sweet. I washed all the bedding in the pack'n'play because I think that August and Levon are going to spend the night tomorrow! Hurray! We can move the little bed into our room and with August on "his" bed on the floor, all four of us can sleep close together. Levon has never slept away from both parents so this will be a new experience. I think he'll do fine. And of course August will be thrilled to be adopted by Mer and Bop. For a little while, at least. 

I made a new mask using a different technique for the ear loops. They are now adjustable which is a very good thing because the hardest part of masks for me has been getting the length of that elastic right. Too long and the mask is ineffective, too tight and it pulls on the ears and slips off. Mr. Moon just tried it on and gave me a thumbs up. So hurray for that! 

Now. This is for Steve Reed.  The other day when I mentioned losing my bobbin case into thin air, he commented that he had no idea what a bobbin case is. This is what it is:

And this is the actual bobbin:

For many of you, maybe most, this is not new information. But for those of you who do not sew, the bobbin is filled with thread via a clever mechanism of the machine, which in my case is a sixty-six year old Singer (same age as me) and then it fits into the case and the thread is pulled through a specific place and the tidy little package fits onto a spindle beneath the needle and...well, again- pragmatic magic occurs. Like the eggs, this sewing machine still manages to delight me every time I use it. Yesterday I used it to stitch up a seam in Mr. Moon's overalls and the old girl dealt with the canvas-like fabric with ease. "Old girl" being the Singer, not me, but I did okay too.

So that's life in Lloyd today. Basically. Pretty much. I did watch part of the debate last night but after awhile I again put down my crocheting and said, "I already know who I am voting for. This is bullshit," and walked away. Unfortunately I missed the fly. I thought Kamala did fine. I thought that the only thing Pence did which was even slightly impressive was that he framed his lies in complete sentences. I see that Trump refuses to debate Biden again in a virtual format. I guess he's trying to infect Joe Biden in hopes that he, because he doesn't have Trump's superior superman genes, will die of it. 

Who the hell knows what that man thinks? It is comforting to realize that I can't begin to comprehend how his mind works. I may be crazy but I ain't Donald Trump level crazy. 

One more picture from Cozumel because this is my blog and I love that island with all my heart. 

That was yesterday morning before the storm had entirely passed. The boats are called "pangas" and are fishing boats. The owners carried them up to the sidewalk beside the sea wall and tied them to the white balls you see that are part of the wall's design. Cozumelians are born with the sea in their veins and navigate it like mer people. Those boats represent what are probably two families' entire economic investments and are the source of their sustenance and livings. 

Thanks for indulging me. 

Oh! One more thing- how many of you actually come back to read my replies to your comments? I've quite curious about this. And don't feel guilty if you don't. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And The AC Is Back On

Cozumel survived Delta with some damage but not complete catastrophe. The storm downgraded to a Cat 2, I think before it hit and it did not linger like the horribly destructive Hurricane Wilma did years ago, sitting atop the island for three full days and nights. This storm took out some trees, ripped off a few roofs, and left some areas without power and some streets flooded but overall, people are vastly grateful for what little damage there was. And by the time it was fully light this morning, city workers were already out cleaning up and I'm sure that everyone else was too. 

This is a picture I snagged off a video of folks cleaning up a neighborhood park. There was still thunder rumbling. Those people know how to deal with a hurricane and they are not afraid of work. 

I was so relieved to see the pictures and videos this morning. The internet can be a beautiful thing. 

Our weather here in Lloyd has turned hot and humid again. My walk was miserable and I employed the "the more this sucks, the faster you walk" tactic for getting through it. I rested up for awhile and did things in the house and then went out to plant a little bit. I was so happy to see that the arugula and collards and lettuces that Mr. Moon planted just a few days ago are already coming up. 

That's the arugula and the sight of it makes me so happy. 

Look how straight his rows are:

If you look very closely, you can see him back there by the garage where he is detailing a car he bought. He's been working on it ALL DAY LONG. That man. All I did was plant half a row of beets and a row of mustard greens and I was drenched in sweat and had had enough, came in and tended to things in the house. I just can't deal with the heat. 

I really don't have much else to say today. I'm going to make us pizza and I need to get busy doing that. It's been a fine day, a regular day, a day I put my head down and did what needed to be done. Let's just say that I did indeed get in my 10,000 steps. 

And as usual, I did not die. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Remembering

That is what Maurice looked like yesterday. She was napping in the Pac 'n' Play that I still have up in the guest bedroom for Levon, although he's never yet spent the night and will soon be too big for it. But I suppose that Maurice felt safe it it. Jack rarely goes into that part of the house and she's somewhat hidden from view. Poor baby. Her face still looks rough. And I heard her and Jack have another spat yesterday. This is an eternal feud. Hate without end, amen. Amen.

Did you ever have a friend to whom you were so close that you were practically inseparable? That you loved so much that it was just this side of inappropriate? Who carried you on her back during the hardest times and you did the same for her? Whom you talked to endlessly on the phone and whose voice never failed to make you happy? Whom you told EVERYTHING to? Who knew you better than any other human on earth and vice versa? 
And then, over the years- something happened. Could have been anything. A disagreement or more likely a slow change in one or both of you and resentments and bitterness began to creep in and add up. Whether you or she changed or both of you changed or whether you started to realize that certain things about her drove you crazy, things that had always been there but that you had been blinded to or chose not to notice, it all started to tip the scales to the point where the friendship was unstable and then untenable. 
This has happened to me several times. And it's always heartbreaking, although always a little different. For me, the relationship I was in with a friend whom I never thought I would not love and want to talk to every day slipped cog after cog until eventually the mechanism simply did not work anymore. The chemistry was gone, disappeared. Because there is chemistry in these friendships whether same sex or not. There simply has to be to form this sort of bond in which there is a closeness that for a time, at least, is unbreakable. In this case, it suddenly seemed to me that my friend was going crazy. She had huge problems with other people and would complain endlessly about them but I could never get her to tell me exactly what she was so angry about, just that she was. So, so angry. Her habit of going on and on and on about how much she loved a family member drove me crazy. She was often unkind, although I don't think she meant to be, it's just that she was not very sensitive to others' feelings. 
Over the years it occurred to me that she is probably a narcissist. Everything, in the end, was about her. And whatever slights she perceived from others were not forgiven. Ever. 
We tried, a couple of times over the years to meet up, to catch up, and there was always a deep element of anticipation to that for me. I missed her terribly. Or at least I missed the part of her that I loved for so long. Because parts of her were beautiful in every way. 
But after an hour or so, I would realize that no, nothing had really changed. It was still all about her, mostly. And the things that had annoyed me to the point of not wanting to see her, talk to her, were still very much a part of her. 

I dreamed about this woman last night. I do dream of her occasionally but this dream was quite vivid and we were reconnecting in some ways. I suppose I miss and need companionship now more than ever and in my deepest heart I miss that connection I had with her which was so special and so pure for so long. All day I've been thinking of her and when I went to town to do my shopping, I decided to actually go by Joann's Fabrics. The route there took me through my old neighborhood. The one I'd mostly lived in when this woman and I were such close friends. She lived less than a mile away in a house I am almost certain she still lives in. I drove by my old house and was hit hard with memories of the times when I lived there. I was in nursing school, a single mama, struggling with all my might to keep my life together, going through a depression and a divorce. I don't know how I did it and I will tell you right now that I never could have without this friend's help. It was also the place I was living when I met Mr. Moon. The place I was living when my darling Sue and I were such good friends. The place where my nursing school friends would all gather to study together, drink coffee together, get ready to go out to dance together. Where Hank and May lived as little ones, where I felt that I was failing them in every way, almost every day. The place where Lily was born. 
I stopped in front of the house for a moment to take in the changes. It's still a small but very handsome house. Glen and his daddy turned a screened side-porch into a huge master bedroom and bathroom before we were even married. That's the room Lily was born in. My friend was there when Lily was born but I can remember even then feeling uncomfortable with her. 
I could have closed my eyes and driven to her house by muscle memory alone. But I didn't want to drive past her house, much less stop and visit. There is too much water under that bridge. 

I went on to Joann's where I spent a relatively fruitless (but expensive) forty-five minutes. I did not find the quilt flannel I wanted but did buy a few yards of unprinted solid-colored flannel and a few yards of cotton to make more masks with if I want although I don't know why I would. Masks are a dime a dozen these days, almost literally. It was so odd being out. That might have been my first shopping excursion besides Publix and Costco since last March. I kept feeling like I would run into my old friend. I think she works in that neighborhood. 
I didn't. 
I went on to Publix and Costco and not only pandemic shopped but hurricane-shopped too. There is a category 4 storm named Delta about to slam into the Yucatan tonight and then it will head north, of course. 

It's "supposed" to hit west of here but of course one never knows and it is definitely going to hit Cozumel which is right off the coast where that red part of the map is. I've been thinking about that all day too. As if those people haven't been through enough recently with the pandemic and very, very limited tourism and no cruise ships. I know it's crazy but my heart will always be there in those jungles, in that water of seven colors, with those people who smile so beautifully and love their children so dearly. 

Emotional day. But I got out of the house! I did that. I have enough supplies to last through a hurricane should Delta change her mind, her track, her course. Enough for maybe one one hundredth of a pandemic. 

I don't have an ending. I guess if I did, it would just be to say that I honor the love and friendship that I had for my friend and also honor the grief that I will always hold for what was and what can never be again. 

This is life. We are humans. We fall in love, we fall out of love, we hold on tight to that which is real and learn to let go of that which is not. 

Or something like that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Good, The Bad, And The Downright Evil

 I picked those pretties on my walk today. It is the time of the fall yellow and lavender flowers. I can hardly bring myself to pick wildflowers any more because I don't want to rob a pollinator of even one blossom but there is such abundance right now that I figure just a few of each won't matter much. 

That's a very boring picture. Why didn't I take it from another angle? I really am not a visual person which I blame on the fact that I was half-blind nearsighted by the time I was prescribed glasses at the age of eight.

I don't have much to say about today. I wandered about doing a few things, each of which took far more time than they should have. One of the things I did was to cut down and hem an old sheet that Mr. Moon can hopefully use for a new blanket. I've spoken before how very, very differently we feel temperature and our responses to it. My half of the bed can have a quilt, folded over double, and a blanket, folded over double while his side has a sheet and his thin, thin flannel blanket. I mean, you can see through this thing. And over the years it has gotten thinner and thinner to the point where it has holes in it which cannot be mended because the fabric really can't hold the thread to patch it with. So I've been trying to figure out a substitute for him and I found this old sheet which I don't even remember owning which is as soft as it can be through years of use (I guess) and I cut off about eighteen inches to make it a more reasonable width for one man's needs and hemmed that up. 

Now this should have taken about ten minutes. But it took me about an hour. Or more. 

I had to get the sewing machine back out and rethread it with white thread and find a white bobbin and iron the hem into the sheet before I could begin. The white thread I had absolutely did not work because it is some sort of quilting thread and the way I knew it didn't work was because when I tried to sew, it only knotted and completely fouled up between needle and bobbin which required some surgery involving removing the foot, and then I rethreaded with more reasonable white thread and I could not find my bobbin and the bobbin case. It was like they had disappeared off the face of the earth. I had only moved from my seat at the table to where the sewing dresser is which is a distance of less than ten feet and I searched through the trash in case I had accidentally tossed it there and I looked through various bowls on the sewing chest where I keep extra thread spools and elastic and bias tape and a bunch of other assorted unorganized stuff and it was just nowhere and I thought I'd lost my mind. 

I finally found it on the floor beneath the table where I sew and one would have thought I'd have heard it when it fell but no, I did not. 

So that took another twenty minutes but it's done now. 

I sure hope it works for my husband's sleeping comfort. 

On a positive note, last night's gumbo was superb! 

I absolutely could not have been happier with it. We're having leftovers tonight. And the bread came out beautifully too. I have discovered that using the food processor for the initial mixing and kneading and adding perhaps a quarter of a cup of milk and a teaspoon of sugar or honey to the ingredients (sourdough heresy, I am sure) creates a loaf that is what my husband likes to call "fluffy." And that's with it being one third whole wheat, too. Mr. Moon cracks me up when he describes my bread in his best Paul Hollywood voice. He never fails to mention the "croom" which is how Paul pronounces "crumb". 

It never ceases to amuse us. 

I was going to plant some today but just never got around to it. I am still finding myself completely unmotivated. I just feel so flat. I truly do want to plant some of the fall garden though. I know it would be good for me and also, it's just so much more meaningful to see the tiny seeds begin to sprout if I'm the one who put them in their birth rows. 

I don't know. I really do not know what's going on with me. A sort of ennui, I suppose, inspired by the strange times we're living in. There's an almost "what's the point" feeling about all of it when I consider the current Washington situation to the Supreme Court nominee to the upcoming election. 

If anyone thinks that this is going to be a free and open and honest election they are simply wrong. If you want to have nightmares as interesting as mine, read THIS ARTICLE. 

And I see that the narcissist in chief is going to be discharged back to the White House this evening. He may already be there. The thing that's striking me most about this whole situation is that because he and his people have lied so much to the American people, we truly do not know what the status of his health is. 

We have come to that. 

And I know that presidents have lied about their health forever. Franklin Roosevelt not being photographed in his wheel chair, JFK not be forthcoming about his chronic use of pain medication. There's a long history of these sorts of prevarications and deceptions. But this is 2020 and we the people deserve to know what's going on with the president's physical and mental status and what the lingering effects of his illness might mean. Not that the man was stable in any way, shape or form before he inevitably caught covid or started taking medications which can cause all sorts of unwanted side effects, both of the body and the mind. 

Oh well. 

Here. Here's some joy. 

Here's what Lily texted:

I'm trying to convince her to take it back to the tree I found it in but she's not about it. I even told her it would poop on her head and she said "it's ok, I love baths."

Oh, our darling little naturalist. I thought the lizard was a Cuban lizard but Lily informed me that it's an Eastern Fence lizard. Learn something new every day. Whatever it is, it's a fine fashion accessory for our Magnolia June. 

And here's a picture of some of the chickens, scratching and dirt bathing right outside the garden which it would appear that Mr. Moon has successfully secured from their entering it. 

As you can see, Miss Pinto is looking longingly through the fence at the rich dirt which always has worms and other tasty treats which she is now so tragically denied. 

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Short And Sweet

 Y'all. I'm just not feeling up to much of a post this evening. Everything's fine. We had sweet visitors this morning for pancakes. 

I kept telling Jessie- I am making way too many pancakes. I am making enough pancakes for four hundred people! 

And she kept telling me- I don't think so. 

There were two left when we were done. I can't even tell you how many August ate. Like...seven? Nah. Probably only about five. But still. 

And Levon ate a bunch too. They were hungry for pancakes. 

There was Wii playing with Boppy, and Mermer read books. Jessie trimmed my hair for me and then she trimmed her daddy's. She probably cut at least six inches of mine off and I am so glad. It's been way over a year since mine was cut and it was ridiculous. And then she helped her dad clean off the deck between the house and the old kitchen. I cannot tell you how happy I am about that. 

Anyway, it's getting late and I need to bake bread that I started last night and I've thawed and peeled shrimp for gumbo and I need to get on it. I'm pretty much exhausted. Not from doing much, I assure you, just life in general. 

Here's another picture. 

That's another thing that happened. 

And now I believe I'll go chop vegetables and make a roux. 

More tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Think That For The Rest Of The Year Every One Of My Posts Is Going To Be Titled WHAT THE FUCK?!

Welcome to Lloyd where the temperature is quite pleasant, the mosquitoes are not quite as bad as they were and the gnats are trying to to populate the earth fed on our blood. Gnats seem to especially enjoy the combs of roosters and it was quite a feat to get that shot because Liberace is constantly tossing his head to try and get rid of the tiny demons. I've even seen the hens helpfully pecking at the gnats tormenting their manbird and I wish I could get a picture of the ladies standing on tippy claw to try and snatch the bloodsucking pests.

So how have you been today? I've been a wart on the butt of the world. I swear to god. I haven't even got any jam to show for my...whatever it is I'm going through. I cleaned the hen house but it'll be all pooped up again by tomorrow morning. I was invited to a fish fry this afternoon. Or my husband was, and wives and partners were invited too. The guys Mr. Moon fishes with took a fishing trip awhile back that he wasn't able to go on but they asked him to come and share some of the bounty. I wasn't even aware that I was invited until a few days ago at which point my entire being screamed NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! and I told my husband that really, I just couldn't. 
Surprisingly he was a bit shocked. I have no idea why. Has he not known me since 1983? Yes. Yes he has. I told him to just tell the host that I have an anxiety disorder and could not attend. Which is the truth. 
Anyway, I did make potato salad and tartar sauce for him to take. I hope it was enjoyed. So I guess I did do that. 

Before he left he planted collards and arugula and mesclun seeds. Man, his rows are straight. He uses devices to make straight rows. Like, bamboo poles and pieces of PVC to line 'em up. When I plant, the rows wander and weave like my thoughts. I don't think we need to search here for a metaphor, really. 

Well. What in hell is going on? When I woke up this morning I wondered if Trump was still alive. It would appear that he is although who knows? I watched the dog and pony show of many physicians and nurses in front of Walter Reed, reporting on the president's health status. That was all full of smiles and reassuring little jokes and eel-like maneuvers to avoid saying whether or not Trump had been on any supplemental oxygen ("He's not on it at the present time!") or when exactly Trump knew he had the virus despite reporters' best efforts at trying to get this information out of the man. But it was reported that his fever is normal, his oxygen levels are great, his BP and so on and so forth are within the range of normalcy for Trump and blah, blah, blah. He also referred to Trump as "slightly overweight" so I don't know how much we can trust him either as a doctor or a person. 

After that, someone told someone that in fact, Trump's symptoms are troubling. Meaning...what? 

Let's face it- we are not going to get the truth out of anyone on the record. The man could be laying up in Walter Reed, watching Fox News and eating take-out McDonalds that some poor Secret Service guy had to go out and buy, dipping his french fries in the pools of ketchup that his nurse (an Army major) squeezed out of the little packets she'd torn open for him, or he could be laying in a bed in a medically induced coma on a vent. Or anything in between. Who knows? Not me. And not you. And certainly not your crazy ass uncle who uses the little praying hands and American flag emojis on everything he puts on FB praising Trump. I would love to go to the FB page that I used to occasionally visit called Trumpified News to see what his base is saying about all of this. I used to comment on that page and got blocked but I still used it for insight into the demented minds of the deplorables. But guess what? It's gone. Disappeared. No sign of it. Guess they forgot to send me a memo. 

Anyway, here's my favorite take on it all. Trae Crowder. The Liberal Redneck. 

  

 He's got some good points. 

And have you heard the audio of Melania saying, "Fuck Christmas, who cares."? 

Oh gosh. Bless her heart. I'd be saying the same thing if I had to turn the White House into a winter wunderland, to tell you the truth. Hearing her say Fuck Christmas gave me a lot more insight into that horrible REDRUM! REDRUM decor she came up with a few years ago. But hey! She married the guy. 

Mr. Moon is home and he brought me some beautiful fried fish including mullet, baked beans, cole slaw, some of my potato salad, a cup of banana pudding and a piece of red velvet cake. Like three meals worth of food. And he says he's so full that he has to sit in his chair and fall asleep now. 

DID YOU KNOW THAT SEASON SIX OF SHITT'S CREEK HAS DROPPED ON NETFLIX? 

That's the best thing I've heard in months. 

Take care, y'all. We're all living in Crazy Town and there is no limit to the number of clowns in the car. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

I spent a good part of the day wondering if I was having a stroke, knowing that I wasn't, but was merely instead anxious as hell. 
There is no "merely" about anxiety. 

Before I went to sleep last night, not even knowing that Trump was infected, I started wondering what in hell would happen if he did get the virus and died before the election. I knew he'd been exposed to Hope Hicks and who knows who all else and although I will admit that for four years the idea of him dying did not exactly upset me, to put it nicely, it occurred to me that his death now would throw yet another complication out there to any sort of honest election and although it WOULD mean that he wouldn't be president again, how would it affect everything? Would the RNC have to choose another candidate? And how would that work? So every time I woke up in the night I fretted over this possibility because fretting and worrying are what I do best. It all resulted in me having another one of my museum-house dreams in which there were many, many bedrooms and bathrooms all completely filled with dirty bedding and towels and other assorted left-behind laundry that needed to be done. 
Have I moved on from the filthy kitchen? Is this progress?
There were a great many guests in the house and more to come. I was frantically trying to create some order, which was a Sisyphean task so daunting that I was grateful to wake up and realize I'd only been dreaming and then the next thing I knew, I was reading that Trump had indeed tested positive for covid. 

And now I have just heard that he's being flown to Walter Reed. 
Ooh boy. 

As I wrote to a friend of mine today, if there is one thing that Donald Trump is really, truly good at it is FUCKING THINGS UP! 

Do we even need to mention how truly ironic it is that the man has the virus? Or how predictable that he would get it? 
I think not. Some things are, as the Declaration of Independence says,  self-evident.

Rachel sent a group text with a link to an election law blog about how the situation would be handled should DT succumb to the Chinese Hoax Virus. I didn't really understand it all and didn't really try but there are answers. HERE is the link if you care to read it. I would advise having  more than one-half cup of coffee before you do. 

So yes- anxiety and I had no motivation to do anything but crossword puzzles and getting the sheets on the line. So I did those things. And then I decided that trying to make jam wouldn't be too stressful but might actually be therapeutic so I did that. I used the frozen strawberries along with some frozen Roseland mango puree and I cooked those down and down and down with sugar and lemon juice and that was all until it was of the right consistency and filled up my sterile jars and processed them in the canning kettle. I am quite pleased with the consistency and the flavor. I used the new large Dutch oven and it worked beautifully. At this point, I am very glad I bought those pots. It's nice to cook in a white-coated pot because it's so much easier to see what you're cooking. Does this make sense? It does to me. And the jam-making did alleviate my anxiety and made me feel as if I had accomplished something, at least. 

I realize that anything I do which gives me the slightest illusion of control is good thing to do and honestly, I need to remind myself of this frequently while knowing all along that it is all illusion but if it makes me feel better, then who cares? 

Here's a picture of Owen and one of the new rats his mama drove all the way to Jacksonville to a qualified breeder to get. 

This batch o' rats appears to be healthy and hearty. Lily said that when she took this, Owen was saying, "Dang girl! You got some big ears!" I think it's awesome that the kids have these little pets to take care of and tame and love on. I wish them long lives. 

And that's it. I mean, I could go on for days about Trump having covid but what's the point? If the past year has shown me anything, it's that I can't begin to predict what in hell is going to happen next and I don't even want to try. One thing I have learned is that it is not in the least helpful to say, "It can't get any worse."

Oh baby. Hold my beer. 

I am going to go tell Mr. Moon that it's time for him to make me a martini. It is Friday, right? I think so. Time has lost all meaning. It was two o'clock this afternoon before I realized I hadn't eaten lunch. I was astonished when I saw what time it was, truly thinking it was around 12:30.

So. On we go. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Please, please, PLEASE do not let Joe Biden get covid. Jesus take the wheel and protect him from the vile, germ-ridden spittle that flew from Trump's mouth on Tuesday night. 

Just saying. 

Another Day Slips By

 

I know. I KNOW! How many pictures of the bananas do we need? You want to know the truth? That's the only damn picture I took today and so there you are and there you have it. I am still gobsmacked by this bloom and the resulting fruit but I doubt anyone else in the world is. 

Dear god. I may need to do something to change my life. I feel myself becoming more and more attached to my house and my yard and my routines. This is no longer an amusing joke. It's becoming what could be called pathologic. Or one of those things that really is not normal or good. Today was another day wherein I did not leave Lloyd although I took a walk down to where Emma and Jacob live across the street from where the big-horned ram stands in its big-horned splendor. I did not see either Emma or Jacob nor did I see any of their sons but it does look like someone has been getting rid of some things in their yards. The lady who lives in the house next to No Man Lord's yard called hello to me from her porch and I called hello back and when the guy who lives in the house with the little yappy dogs passed me in his shiny red mustang he honked his horn and waved and I waved at him. When I was almost home a guy was trudging towards me with a weed whacker over his shoulder and when we got to speaking distance he gave me a huge smile and said, "I thought you'd already be home by now!" I had not one clue about who he was. 
I tell you what- when I say that people recognize me, I'm not kidding you. 

The rest of my day has been spent doing tiny little things like watering porch plants and taking trash. I scrubbed toilets and I finally attended to the job of cleaning out the freezer. I'd spilt coffee in it a few months ago and did not really do a good job of cleaning that up and my frozen stuff was all higgelty piggelty, bags of frozen vegetables mixed uncomfortably with bags of frozen shrimp. I've got a huge Costco-sized bag of frozen strawberries that I bought right before we locked down and I only ever use them to make the smoothies I used to make for my husband for him to drink before he went to the gym and now he's not going to the gym and neither one of us seems to be the least bit interested in smoothies. I've even put my blender away to give myself more counter space. I'm thinking I might just use those frozen berries to make some jam and why not? That can be a project for next week, I suppose. When Jessie was here yesterday she got out the big Dutch oven which came with the smaller Dutch oven I bought at Costco a few weeks ago and although I hadn't really thought I'd be using it, the very broad base of it make me think that it would be good for jam-making. Might as well try it out. So far the cheap enamel-clad cast iron is working well for me. 

I made up a loaf of sourdough this morning, pushing it harder than I should have. To do it right, I really need to let it rest overnight in the refrigerator before I start the proofing process. So that's going to be a flattish loaf. 

Here. I just took another picture. 

Would you look at that face? She had just healed enough from a cut above her left eye that had swollen the eye shut for it to open again and then yesterday she and Jack got into another fight that Jessie and I and the boys heard from a different part of the yard and ran to try and mediate and she's messed up again. Time to get out the neosporin and golden seal. I get so mad at Jack but honestly, she attacks him and just refuses to make peace and he is twice the size and weight she is. She's been on that pillow in the chair on the porch all day long. That poor cat is not right. She loves to cuddle with Mr. Moon in his chair but if he attempts to move at all she hisses and threatens to scratch and bite. I told Glen yesterday that she needs anger management classes and she does. We do love her, though. He's talking baby talk to her right now, kneeling down by the chair where she's recuperating. 

I am not going to talk about politics today. I am just going to say that it was another beautiful day, cool and clear as a river in the Garden of Eden. I'll hang sheets on the line tomorrow. 

And although I'm not going to talk about politics I am just going to say that it suddenly has occurred to me that it's like we are living with not one but two swords of Damocles hanging above our heads, one representing the upcoming election, the other of course being the constant threat of Corona virus. 

I have to say that I am glad I'm on the oldish side now. How could anyone truly experience the feelings and emotions that children and young people should be feeling, deserve to feel, with all of this perceived and heavy weight above them? 

I am aware that circumstances are never perfect for anyone but these are so far from lighthearted times. And troubles are only increased for all of us now. 

"The sky is falling!" says Chicken Little. 

We all nod and say, "Yes. Yes it is."

See you tomorrow. 

Love...Ms. Moon