The Most Prosaic Of Days

This is the sight that greeted me this morning when I went to let the chickens out of the coop. It delighted me- I rarely see them all that close together in one big gathering. But there they are. Miss Darla was actually on a nest so she's not represented there but her sister Dottie is. She's the white one on the ground. I have no idea why they decided to all clump together on that baby coop but then again, there is so much that is still quite mysterious to me about chickens and their behaviors and society. 

I've been pretty good about my walking this week and I walked again today. Instead of the usual route I take for my middle mile down to the Rancho across from Emma and Jacob's, I went down a little dirt road called Sandy Acres that is almost exactly a half mile in length and it was nice to take a different path. And I met this guy. 

Dogs are not always walkers' friends. I have been bitten once by an unrestrained dog on my walks and threatened many times. I have had to change my routes due to dogs and I understand fully that walking in rural areas carries with it the threat of overly territorial dogs. It's one of the reasons I carry a light walking stick. So when this doggo started wuffing at me this morning I was, for a second, a little worried but then I immediately sensed that he was a darling, a sweetheart, a big old cement-block-headed bull dog with nothing but love on his mind. He trotted out into the road and wagged his whole body and I scratched his head. He lay down and showed me his belly to make sure I knew he was a friend and I petted and scratched him some more and baby-talked to him which he seemed to love. I've had bull dogs before and although they can turn without warning into fighting machines, 99.9% of the time they are the sweetest. They're one big muscle and almost vibrate with happiness when paid attention and affection to. I was sorry to say good-bye to him. 

The rest of the day has been slow. I hung laundry on the line and made black bean soup and a loaf of sourdough which is about to go into the oven. I made up the dough for the bread last night and started soaking the beans then too. Black beans take forever to cook and even with the soaking I had to put them into the pressure cooker for half an hour to ensure that they'd be done for supper. I am still not used to the way time halts and then speeds these days. I had planned to get the soup going early but by the time I got to it, it was after two. 

It's going to be cool tonight. The air conditioner is off, blessedly silent, not needed. The doors and windows are open. I'm sipping a martini, I'm going to make a salad, slice avocados and chop cilantro to go on the soup. I have onions quick-pickled in lime juice and salt, rice wine and a tiny bit of sugar. 

For some reason, although it is Friday night, the church next door is dark and the dirt parking lot is empty. Birds are tweeting their good-night calls, the sky to the west shows pink in the gloaming. This is what it's like on earth, right now in the year of the Covid pandemic, in the last days of the Trump plague, at least in Lloyd, Florida. I think of all of you and where you are, some far across the country, some farther across the globe and I take a deep breath and I wish us all well and know that time and distance are not really that much of a barrier. We all want the same things, don't we? 

Be safe. Keep living. 

Happy Friday. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Epiphanies Today

 Late Roses and Tea Olive

I walked today after procrastinating for a very long time, reading interviews, older and new with Keith Richards and poor man- they always ask the same things- what was it like when you and Mick were feuding, did you really snort your dad's ashes, did you steal Anita from Brian, and mostly- why aren't you dead already? 

READ THE BOOK, PEOPLE!

But now I know that he really misses going on tour which I could have guessed, that he is wearing comfortable clothes and staying masked and mostly at home, and that he and Mick are sending music back and forth because they were working on an album when Covid hit, his dogs are named "Sugar" and "Honey" AND that he doesn't have a cell phone. 

Why would I? he asked. 

So yeah, a walk and I'm always so amazed at how No Man Lord and his friends can spend hours sitting under a tree and just talking. They probably don't need cell phones either. We wave at each other and ask, "How ya doin'?"

Obviously I have very little to say today. I've just been at home, doing a little of this and a little of that. Cleaned the hen house, dumped the poopy hay on the compost pile, did a little weeding. Nothing special at all and yet, it's been a good day in its way. I'm feeling guilty right now because Mr. Moon is out shoveling compost on our garden after he spent an entire day shoveling compost in Lily's and Jessie's gardens and the sun has already set. 

And he wonders why his shoulder hurts. He wonders why he gets so tired. 

I'll say that the roses are still lovely in their late bloom, that the tea olive's scent is so strong and so intoxicating. I'll say that I'm a lucky damn woman. Those are the things I have to say and I think that's enough. My mind seems to be somewhere else right now, so I'll just wish everyone well, promise to be more be-here-now tomorrow. 

Meanwhile...

Love...Ms. Moon

We Get A Visit From A Three-Year Old

Right before Vergil was to come home from North Carolina, some of his mountain family had a few flu-like symptoms and so his brother-in-law got tested but it was going to take a few days to get results. Of course this worried everyone and made Vergil wonder if he should come home before the test results were received but he and Jessie decided he should come on and they'd isolate until they found out if covid was involved. This meant to us that we couldn't see Levon on his birthday but yesterday the test showed negative and so Jessie brought the boys out this morning. 

"You got me a present?" Levon asked as soon as he was out of the car. "Yes!" I said. "I did!" 
"And did you get me one?" August asked. 
"A little one," I told him. 

They ran for the house and August immediately found them on the dining room table where I'd just wrapped them. We all gathered around and Levon tore into his big present with August helping. I'd gotten the boy a set of trucks that you have to put together with a big screwdriver that came with all the other stuff and there were stickers to put on the various vehicles and the crane. There was a crane. And boulders for the crane to pick up and put into the dump truck. There was a fire engine and a tow truck and a garbage truck and the dump truck. Maybe something else. I can't remember. And little guys to go into the various trucks. 
So many pieces. 

Jessie's reaction to so many pieces. 

But between those three and Boppy, they got those trucks and the crane built and all the stickers applied properly in short order. 

I just watched. I was quite surprised and pleased, too, that Levon shared his new present so willingly with August. They passed the screwdriver back and forth between them. August's present was a set of Little Critter I Can Read books. He's coming right along with learning the sounds that letters make and putting them together into recognizing words. His mama and daddy are helping him with that and it won't be long until he's reading, I think. 

After the trucks had all been put together some other stuff went on and then Jessie took orders from all of us and phoned them in to the Hilltop and went picked up our lunch and it was so fun to eat their delicious, salty, fried foods. And then, because it had been Levon's birthday, I had gotten a treat yesterday at Publix. As we've been reading Babar books, we've seen pictures of eclairs and because we spend a lot of time discussing the pictures in the books they now know what eclairs are but they'd never had any. August had been asking me if I could make some and I said I could probably buy some and yesterday, at Publix, I was so happy to remember that and to find a tidy little box of four neat chocolate eclairs. 
I put each one on a plate and served them out and the boys have now had chocolate eclairs and they like them very much. These particular eclairs had a very generous amount of cream inside of them and I wish I'd gotten a picture of the boys eating them, each with his own technique. Jessie ate half of hers and Boppy put his in the refrigerator for later. I had a bite of Jessie's and I declare that the eclairs were fine indeed. 

After a wash-up, Levon took me by the hand and said, "Can we read books now?" and led me to the library and we read books. 

"Oh boys," I sighed. "I would like to read books to you all day long." 
And I would. 

After they left Mr. Moon and I felt lazy. I think I'm having a reaction from the flu shot I got yesterday. My arm and shoulder have been sore since last night and I've just felt...tired. But yesterday I did something CRAZY which was to buy an entire new set of stainless silverware (oxymoron?) at Costco to replace the things we've been eating with forever which are a mixture of things I'd bought at Publix years ago during a promotion, a few things from Mr. Moon's first marriage, some of my grandmother's old stainless, another grandmother's actual silver, and those random things that pop up out of nowhere. I'd been looking at new sets forever and finally yesterday I just decided to go for it and this afternoon I cleared out the silverware drawer and put a lot of old utensils in one bag to give away and the silver in another bag to store because I need to keep it. That grandmother's name was Mary Miller so her monogram works for me too. I've got the new stuff in the dishwasher and I can't tell you how excited I am to use it. I suppose we could call that our anniversary present. 

While I was clearing things out, I tackled the huge drawer in my kitchen hutch where I have first aid supplies and OTC medicines like Benadryl, Sudafed, and god knows what all. Also many boxes of band-aids and gauze pads, thermometers- one digital and one an old-fashioned glass one because it still works and doesn't need batteries, and countless tubes of antibiotic ointment and Benadryl cream. I threw away the oldest stuff and cleaned the drawer and organized the things I kept. That feels good too. 

A neighbor who had surgery yesterday asked me if I'd come over and help her with her incision dressing and I did that and honestly, it felt good to help someone, to feel like I had a little knowledge to share. "Little" being the key word, but still...

And so it's been a really, really good day. And now it's time to go put the new forks and spoons and knives into their clean organizer and make our supper. I've picked enough greens for an entire salad and I'm so looking forward to that. 

We've watched two episodes of "The Queen's Gambit" and I'm hooked. GOOD series, for sure and we'll watch another episode tonight. 

I have no idea what evil Trump has gotten into today and right this second, I don't care. I don't think that Hurricane Eta is going to affect us much except for some rain and we need that. 

For the moment I can say- all is well. I hope it is for you too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Why Can't He Just Go Play Golf And Leave Us Alone?

That was on the sidewalk this morning when I walked down to the county line and it was not there when I came back which leads me to believe that it had fallen out of the pocket of a guy riding his bike on the sidewalk the opposite ways I was walking and that he picked it up on his way home. As we crossed paths twice he gave me a huge smile and greeted me cheerfully and honestly, I think my neighbors are mostly happy about the election and as everyone keeps saying, there is a lighter feeling. Yesterday there was so much enthusiastic waving. We old ladies waved at each other until our arm flaps jiggled like a flag trying to fly off its flagpole in a high wind. 
Sweet. 

But here's the best- the two neighbors of ours that had Trump signs in their yard or at the entrance to their driveway appear to have taken those things down. They are GONE, baby. As I have stated, my next-door neighbors have had a Trump sign up for about five years now. They were early boarders of that terrible train. They did replace their old one for this year's campaign so it wasn't the same sign but it was a Trump sign and you know how much that thing has griped me all this time. I could not believe that those signs were down and I wondered if they'd taken them down themselves or if someone else had relieved them of the chore. I checked out the rear window of my next-door neighbor's car and damn if her "Women for Trump" sticker hadn't been scraped off. So I'm thinking they did it themselves. 
Of course, as a friend suggested, they could be just deathly afraid that "Antifa" is going to come and massacre them in their sleep. I feel certain that Fox news is on in their house 24 hours a day and there is no radio host spouting Qanon theories too far right for their sensibilities. So who knows? 
But the bottom line is, I don't have to look at those signs any more. 
Thank you, Jesus. 

And in the spirit of that, I laid down the sign I did not take out yesterday because dammit, it is NOT in someone's yard but right where the Welcome to Jefferson County sign is so that's county property. It's still there, as is the other one I pulled up yesterday, but they are on the ground, flat and unable to offend passersby. 

And so I have been feeling mostly cheerful today and went to town to do my shopping early in the week because who the hell knows if we're going to have a hurricane by the weekend? I'd just as soon not get caught up in that sort of preparation frenzy. I'm probably being silly but whatever. Shopping is done. Plus, I got a flu shot at the Publix and so that's done too. 

While I was in the car I listened to some of an NPR interview with a NY'er writer who was discussing how many things Trump could be convicted of after he leaves office and no wonder he's doing everything he can to prevent that from happening. He's doing everything he can to throw monkey wrenches into the process of allowing Biden to prepare for the office to which he was elected which only makes him look more desperate, oafish, and criminal. Not to mention low-class. 

All right. Not to change the subject but let's change the subject. Here are three pictures that Mr. Moon sent me today from when he was over at Lily's shoveling compost.

That's our Woman Baby, helping with the garden and looking darn good while she's doing it. 

Tonight's supper is going to be a bit labor intensive so I better get to it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy Birthday, Levon! Plus Other Stuff

That was Levon three years ago today when he was just a few hours old. Which of course means that it's his birthday. If you would like to read about the day he was born you can go here. 
I don't know about you but there is nothing I love more than a good birth story and Levon's is a fine one. It's one of Jessie's birth stories, too, of course, and I've said it before and I'll say it again- she is a birthing goddess. As is Lily. 

I've been thinking about Levon's birthday for days. I have a present for him in the closet that I bought last week. Yet somehow, this morning, it completely slipped my mind. I went on a fine walk and had the glorious experience of taking down two Trump signs. One was a sign stuck into the ground on a spit of what I think is county land, definitely not in someone's yard. So I pulled it up and laid it down. The other one I pulled from the power pole in front of Mr. Lawrence's old store that someone had stapled up there. I was on my way to the post office, filled with piss and vinegar and endorphins, probably, and I just reached up on my tippy toes and snatched that thing down and threw it in a dumpster by the PO. Fuck that shit. That power pole doesn't belong to the guy who put it up there any more than it belongs to me and it's done and it's over, no matter what Donald Trump and his minions say and that is fucking THAT! 

But suddenly, just as I was approaching home again, I remembered. Levon's birthday! I called his mama and it sounded like they were having a fine time. They were about to take a drive to see if they could find some heavy machinery at work because what could possibly make Levon happier? I talked to the birthday boy and said, "Happy birthday, Levon!" and he said, "Happy birthday!" 

Here are a few pictures. 

Birthday treats!

And back home to move some dirt with what I presume is a new dump truck. 

Hopefully, I'll see them tomorrow and give him our present then. I got August some books, too, because it's hard to be five and not get presents when your brother gets presents. 

And it's just been a good day. Last night I went into the Glen Den to find this going on. 

Little girl was happy to be sitting with her man-human. Or, as we call him in regards to her- Daddy. I know. It's so silly. And yet, here we are, senior citizens who call each other Mommy and Daddy around the cats. At least we don't call each other that if the cats aren't involved in whatever it is we're talking about. 

Because that's just CRAZY.

And I had that walk, which was nice, and made me feel as if I'd done something and I rid the world of two campaign signs for the Orange Pretender. I found little tiny Tweety on the nest in the pump house.

That was not her egg. 

There's her egg at the top in the basket along with four others, some arugula and various basils. We're having pizza tonight. 
I did a little weeding in the garden. Here is what the most micro of micro celery looks like. 

We'll see how that goes. It's not really the right time of year to grow it but what the hell?

And all is well here in my little world. Let us ignore the gaslighting being attempted by the current occupant and focus on the fact that Biden and Harris are getting their ducks all in a row so that when the federal agents have to come and remove DT from the White House, all will be in readiness. 

You know what I keep thinking? That at least Melania is not going to have to decorate the White House for "fucking Christmas" this year. 

Bless her heart. 

Here's a very small tree frog I took a picture of last night. 

Isn't it adorable? 

And in one last bit of news, there is a tropical storm in the gulf again, picking up steam and force, which will most certainly affect us one way or another by the end of the week. The forecasts are all over the map, quite literally, but we're going to get something. Y'all tired of hearing about hurricanes? 

ME TOO! 

Hoo boy. 

Time to make the pizza. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Happy, Happy Lagniappe

Look who came home! I was folding laundry and Mr. Moon called me from the garage. Yes. Called me because he's up to his elbows in deer processing. 
"Maurice is back!" he said. "She ran out of garage and is in the yard!"

"Hurray!" I shouted and then I went to the kitchen door and called her and in just a moment she appeared, meowing and I let her in and fed her Boar's Head turkey meat (she'd prefer Oscar Mayer, I'm sure) and I am so relieved. I have no idea how she got trapped in the garage. There are the new doors which keep it closed up but yesterday it was opened up for hours.
What The Fuck, Maurice? 
Maybe she was just having a mouse-eating orgy. Who knows? But she's home and I have to say that I really did not realize how much this peculiar little ginger girl means to me. I mean, I knew I loved her but I didn't know how much. 

I'm sure that Jack is pissed that she's back.
Oh well. Deal with it, Big Guy.
The queen is home. 

See Saw

Last night I had one of those periods of time where everything, every thing, pleased me. My soul and my heart were both so light and there was nothing that did not feel sweet. The food I was making for supper, the garden I picked part of it from, my lovely sharp knives and good cooking pots. The fact that we have running water for washing clothes and our bodies and drinking seemed almost miraculous. The bowls of eggs on the counter were precious. I felt newfound appreciation for my house, my very old house with its wooden floors and big windows and the pictures that the children have drawn taped to its walls and cabinet doors. The fact that I was going to sit down and watch our new president-elect and vice-president elect make acceptance speeches with my good, dear, husband thrilled me more than I can say. 
And all of that was good. It was good to get into my old nightgown, soft as a whisper and to cuddle into my bed having listened to the speeches with the prospect of a new president in front of us, the prospect of dreamless sleep before me. 

And I woke up this morning disturbed, heavy, and worried. 

We have not seen Maurice since Friday morning and this is not like her at all. I had thought she'd taken off for a little while when the kids were here because she does not like kids any more than they like her. There's a good reason Maggie calls her Scratch. Hell, there's still a place on my own arm that hasn't quite healed up from the last time she got snitty with me. But she's never disappeared this long. I've searched upstairs and in the closets, and in my old office. Glen's checked the shed he keeps locked and the trailer, too. She is nowhere to be found. 
And say what you will about her disposition, her temper and her manners, I love that little orange cat. 

Mr. Moon is worried too. He's looked all around the yard. We have looked up and down the road. I don't think she's a far-traveler but stays close to home. So where could she be? Last night after I turned out the light to go to sleep, a cat suddenly appeared beside me and at first I thought it was her and I was so relieved but I immediately realized that it was big old Jack and although his presence comforted me, I was disappointed. 

Add to that- my worry over my crazy animal companion, my grouchy familiar- I think that all of the stress of the past years and months and days have finally caught up with me. I am still grateful for the running water and the garden and the knives and my husband and my house and my family but that clear and perfect delight in everything has gone the way of a summer rainstorm, leaving me wondering why such feelings of contentment and thankfulness have to be so damn transient. I feel so heavy today that it's been hard to move my body and everything aches. I managed a few things like laundry and sweeping porches and watering plants and I even made a meringue pie with the beautiful lemons that Jessie brought over but nothing has brought me much pleasure. 

It has made me laugh to read about the press conference of Trump's lawyers at the Four Season's Total Landscaping office's parking lot next door to an adult bookstore in an industrial area of Philadelphia. I still have so many questions about that, one of them being- did the person who answered the phone when someone called to schedule the event explain that no, this was NOT the Four Seasons Hotel or did they just go with it and book the place as requested? I can't imagine that anyone else has ever asked to use the facility for a press conference before. How did the person on the phone come up with a price? And what asshole decided to just run with it when the mistake was discovered? 
And it does make me feel good to know that Biden is already forging ahead with plans for his new administration. Remember when the Ignorant Orange One didn't even realize he was going to have to fill a whole lot of positions like...a cabinet? Being an American during his reign has been like a patient with a brain tumor allowing a high school student to perform unsupervised neurosurgery on him. Say what you will about "politicians," it's so nice to have a president-elect who actually knows how government works from the bones on up. 

That's enough. I need to go put the chickens up and start supper and finish folding some laundry. Mr. Moon is sitting in a deer stand. He got up at 4:30 this morning to go sit in one and came home with some lovely videos of the woods at dawn. He rested and ate and has gone out again. 

Please keep a good thought for my crazy little Maurice with her constantly injured nose. I miss her bad. I want her to be okay and safe.
I want us all to be okay and safe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Tequila May Have Been Involved So Forgive My Ramblings And Grammatical Errors But GODDAMN YES!

 I don't even know what to say. I don't have the words to express my joy, relief, hope, and pure jubilation. And I know I'm not the only one. All over the country, all over the world people are celebrating, dancing in the streets, releasing the fear and uncertainty, the horror and the pain we've experienced for the past four years, chasing away the orange demons with our finally-let-out breaths, our cries of glorious rejoicing, our tears made up of all it. 

Let it out, let it out, let it out! 

I was having a nice day as it was. August woke up at 6:40 this morning and immediately began talking as if his switch had been powered on full strength. He got in the bed with us and I actually laughed with him and we all snuggled a bit until finally Boppy said, "Okay, let's go watch TV," and I immediately went back to sleep. When I got up I made the best biscuits I've made in forever, fluffy as can be and they were delicious with butter and homemade jelly and preserves. 

August staring into space, eating his biscuit. I think he ate two. 

And just before we all sat down to eat, Owen and Jason showed up with a deer to clean. Owen got meat for the family early this morning. One shot. Clean. Done. So that was happening. And this too, right after breakfast.

August and Levon helped dig the hole where the deer's parts that we can't use would be returned to the earth. Even many of the bones were saved from this deer to smoke for Pepper and Sammy, Owen's dogs. Owen dug most of the hole but these boys had to get involved, being the professional diggers that they are. I never thought that I'd be part of a family that hunted but here I am. And I would not trade this family for anyone's. 

In the middle of all of this activity, I got a text from a darling beloved friend. 
"Holy shit Mary they're calling Joe Biden on the news stations now President Elect is today it?!?!"

And that is how I found out and thus, there has been one more of those moments added to my life in which I will always remember where I was when a hugely momentous event happened. 

Most of these moments are moments of tragedy- John Kennedy's assassination. John Lennon's assassination. 9/11. 
But some are moments of pure and glorious joy. 

The moments of each of my children's and grandchildren's births. 

Obama's election. 

And here's a beautiful one- when Lily told me she was pregnant with Owen on the day we all got together to watch Barack Obama's inauguration. 

And now I will always remember where in my yard I was standing on a Saturday morning when I got a text telling me that the election had been called for Biden. 

A few seconds later I got another text from another dearly beloved friend confirming the news. They live on different sides of the country so I knew it was for real and honestly true. 

I screamed out loud! And began to shake. And soon I was crying and I've cried on and off all day but mostly I've just been feeling incredibly thankful and grateful and celebratory and lighter. 

Lighter than I've felt in four years. 

Joe and Kamala. Can you believe it? One of our oldest, most seasoned political figures with a vice president who is a young and incredibly intelligent and energetic woman and a beautiful example of what America really looks like. Two decent people. Two good people. Two people who are not cartoons or religious fanatics or homophobes or xenophobic or misogynists or pussy grabbers or child cagers or science deniers or climate change deniers or cheats or cons or hucksters or, or, or...

And our first lady will be Dr. Jill Biden, thank you very much, and we shall have a vice presidential HUSBAND who appears to be supportive and loving and strong and a good man. 

How could you not love this picture? 

I'm thinking that Melania is getting her divorce papers in order and also, that she's saying, "Fuck Christmas decorating! For real! I von't be doing that bullshit again! Be best yourself, you stupid asshole Donald! I'm out of here!" 

Ooh boy. I better stop now before I tell you how I really feel. 

The next few months are going to be wild but for right now, let's celebrate and be happy. We all have a lot of work to do and as I said before, I do not envy Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. But we have their backs. 

Amen AND Hallelujah!

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. On top of everything else, this happened today. 

Daddy is home. 

Get The Fucking Truck

 Here is a lovely little group of chickens, dust bathing and relaxing in the driveway spa area. Here's another picture. 

As you can see, Liberace and Fancy Pants both are standing guard. That's what roosters do. They watch over their flock. Not so much by night when they're all sleeping, but all day long they are attentive and keep track of where the ladies are. If a hen calls, Liberace runs to her, depending on what sort of call she is making. They have very specific calls and warnings. They have different warnings for threats from the sky and threats from the ground. As in hawks or dogs. A rooster will risk his life for a hen. A mother hen will gladly risk hers for a chick. 
I see my little flock as a metaphor for how a community depends on each member's attention and participation and how important accurate communication is.

Liberace is an orange one but he is a far better man that the melting down, losing his shit Orange One who has made all of our lives such a true-life phantasmagoria of horror for the past four years. Given a choice between Liberace and DT, I would feel much safer with the nuclear codes in the capable talons of my rooster. 

Another day of waiting, of being patient. It's okay. It's so much more okay knowing what we know about how the election count is going than it would be if it were going the other way. Still, for every reason in the book, I would give anything if the margin wasn't so razor slim in so many states. I am absolutely amazed that Georgia is looking blue and I give all the credit for that to Stacy Abrams who is a goddess, a superior human being, and someone I would love to see as the first woman president of the United States. 

Jessie and the boys are here to spend the night. Jessie is a little weary after two weeks of being a single mother and she is quite looking forward to martinis. Levon has announced that he wants to sleep with me but we shall see about that. August has already pulled his fold-out bed from the closet and placed it by Boppy's side of our bed. Meanwhile, we have played the matching game, read a book, played with toys, and the lads have discovered the joys of using all the different doors in this house to run inside and out and around and around, screaming "BOO!" at their mother and me every time they pass us and then laughing hysterically. I have a meatloaf ready to go into the oven and Boppy just got back from the woods. 
TV Time!

So here we are again, living our lives as life goes on within us and without us. I saw a video on a group that I belong to on FB and I am going to post it here. I could watch it all day long. However, I must warn you that if the word "fuck" in all of its glorious uses and variations offends you, please, for the love of god, do not watch it as it could be used at a training session for the proper and most affective ways to express yourself using the word as often as possible. 

That is Michael Rapaport and I kneel at his fucking feet. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Democrazy

Today has gone a lot better than it could have, considering. For me, at least. Probably not for the Twisted Orange Intestine. Don't you know he's shitting orange bricks on his golden toilet? And look- I'm not about to jinx anything here. I know it's not over until it's over but we can definitely say that the breeze does appear to be blowing with a lovely pale blue light.
Dear GOD I wish it wasn't so close, though. 

So I went and got my mammogram. Except for one year when I was crazy sick with anxiety disorder, I've never really worried about my bosoms. They've always performed royally for me, doing what they were made for, which was to make and deliver milk to my babies. There was a moment in my childhood when my mother looked at my not-even-budding breasts and said vaguely, "I think you're going to have inverted nipples like Mother." "Mother" being her mother. 
I had no idea what inverted nipples were. I may or may not have even known what "inverted" meant. And Mother did not explain and of course I'd never seen Granny's naked, uh, chest. I can't even use the word when it comes to my darling little Grandmother's...chestular area. Like a bird's breast, really. But I did worry about the possibility of having INVERTED nipples for a long time after that. 
Turns out that my nipples are quite extraverted, thank you very much, although I'm sure I would have been fine if they hadn't been. 

So I wasn't worried today and I'm pretty sure that all is well. They asked me if I wanted to get the 3-D mammogram and since my insurance paid for it, I said, "Sure." My tech lady called me back and directed me to the room where my bosoms were to be smashed and photographed and within seconds we felt extremely comfortable with each other. And this was before I bared myself to her. She asked, because she has to, whether or not I'd ever had implants and I laughed and before we knew it, we were discussing breast enhancements and she told me that a lot of women, strangely, seem to be getting theirs removed these days. She also told me about one of her patients whose FATHER HAD MADE HER GET IMPLANTS AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN! 
"That's sick!" I said. 
"I know!" she said. She told me that the girl, now a woman, also thought it was sick. The poor thing. And we both agreed that the surgeon who'd done the job was evil too. 

And then she asked me if I was Glen Moon's wife and I said that I was and she'd talked to him about buying a car once and that he was such a sweetheart and I agreed with that, too, and it turns out that she knows and is neighbors with two of my friends who are dear to my heart and so, in a way, we were family and I didn't feel shy at all when she arranged my breasts on the plates and told me when to breathe and when not to breathe and when to move and when not to move and it was soon all done. She looked at her images and said, "These are beautiful pictures!" Whether she was speaking as a photographer or a diagnostician, I do not know but I told her "Good job!" and felt relieved. "Very symmetrical," she said. That, I feel quite certain, is a good thing. 
So then I got dressed and left and went to Publix and Costco for my shopping and I swear, things just feel lighter right now, as if that pale blue breeze is refreshing us all, lifting us up from our four-year place of horrid, heavy orange depression and fear. 

Oh please, oh please, oh please. 

My kids and I have been texting each other all day saying, "Why is this taking so long?" I feel like we've probably all shot our adrenals by now, leaving us exhausted and weary and slow and unfocused. But on my way home, I heard Biden speak for just a few minutes and he was calling for patience and reminding us that every vote must be counted. That this is how our democracy works. (I almost typed "democrazy".) That when all the votes are counted, he feels certain that he and Senator Harris will be declared the winners but again- we have to be patient. We have to be accurate. 
I was glad to hear that. To be reminded. To know that he has been through this process so many times and that through time and experience, he has learned patience. He has learned how we must respect the process enough to ensure that it is carried out as it should be. 
What a difference he would make! 
And what a difference it makes to feel even the slightest ray of hope. And if he is the winner, he is not going to magically be able to heal that which has been broken. If there is even a chance for that, it is going to take time and work. And that's not even considering what covid has done and is doing to our country. To our world. 

I ran into Rachel in Publix and although it was wonderful to see her, it was also so painful not to be able to gather her into my arms as I always do, to hold her close to me, this girl that I love. The emotional toll this virus has taken on all of us is as heavy and hard as the economic one, if not more so. Of course, the current occupant doesn't even consider this. Did you see the video of him in the Oval Office with a group of nurses and when one of them began speaking about the PTSD, the trauma that healthcare workers are experiencing daily, he interrupted and said, "Let's pass out these pens," and then proceeded to yes, pass out his shitty free pens to all of them. 
"Oh boy! My life is a wreck, I haven't been able to kiss my kids for six months, I'm watching people suffer and die right and left, I'm so exhausted I can't think straight, but lookie here! I got a free pen!"
As Pinot said, the man has no heart. 

I do not envy Biden if he becomes president but I think he may be able to at least bring some sense and science, some reality and truth to our country. Some decency. Pure and simple decency. Who knew how rare and important that is? 

Take your vitamins, y'all. Remember to hydrate. Get enough sleep and some exercise every day. Be patient. Hope for the best. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Well. Here we are. How are you? I have banana leaves in my dish drainer. There is a reason. Read on. 

Last night was a special sort of hell, wasn't it? I sat and crocheted like a machine on Levon's Doggy's blanket. It's almost done. I was talking to Lis this morning and I told her about it, the obsessive crocheting as I watched results come in. "It's going to be like the blanket in "Like Water for Chocolate," she said. I said, "I had exactly that thought last night. The endless blanket knit in tears."
At eleven I put down my crochet hook and my wool and said, "I have to go to bed." And I did. I wish I'd gone to bed earlier. I dreamed endlessly that the Rolling Stones were visiting in Florida and somehow, I was a friend of theirs and Mick and I spent a great deal of time discussing how to get all of them to Wakulla Springs. I told him how beautiful it was, how it was the second largest spring in the world if you measure by water output per minute (this may or may not be true), and how although I was sure that the Stones had been in Florida many, many times, they had never seen anything like Wakulla Springs. The problem was that there was no way the band and their wives and companions and children and roadies could go incognito. Of course. But I desperately wanted them to be able to see it, to swim in the springs, to know the beauty that Florida can and does hold. 
And yes, Keith was there. He wanted me to make some biscuits. THAT I could do. 
I never did figure out how to get them to Wakulla. 
Wild rock star dreams, right? 

I was not in the least surprised that there was no "blue wave." I suppose I have lost all faith in my country and its sense of decency, its ability to discern right from wrong, good from evil, sense from insanity. These feelings have only been intensified in the last 24 hours. Although the count is far from over and although it does appear that Biden has a slight edge which may well widen as all of the absentee and mail-in ballots are counted, I fear for what may happen if the numbers don't add up in Trump's favor. Of course I am even more fearful if they do but I listened to most of today's "Fresh Air" which was an interview with a writer from The Atlantic, Barton Gellman, about strategies that Trump is going to use to fight the results. You can listen to the interview here, if you want. 
Oh hell. Just don't do it. It's too fucking depressing. 

Everything I did today I had to make myself do. I took a walk. I ran into Pinot right outside my yard. "How you doin'?" he asked. 
"I'd be a lot better if I knew that Biden had won," I said.
He looked startled. "Who won?" he asked. 
"I don't know. They're still counting."
He thought it about for a minute. 
"How can so many people vote for Trump?" I asked him. 
"I don't know," he said. "He ain't got no heart. In all my years I ain't never seen anything like this."
"Me either." It has been established before that Pinot and I are the same age. 

We talked a little more about it all, agreeing that there are indeed many, many assholes in this country. Finally I said, "Could you use some eggs?"
"Sure," he said. 
And I went and got him a dozen and he thanked me and moved on down the road one way while I went the other way. 

I probably did three crosswords today. I took trash. I had a stern talk with myself and then did a thorough job sweeping and mopping the kitchen and the bathroom off of it, not because I really give a damn about the cleanliness of my floor but because I knew the smell of vinegar and Fabuloso would make me feel as if I'd accomplished something. 
Or at least I thought it would. I really don't care. 

I'm going to cook some snapper tonight with peppers from the garden, onions, garlic and lime. I'm going to wrap that all up in banana leaves to bake. I've picked thinnings of mustard greens and arugula for a salad. Mr. Moon helped Lily with her garden again today. It is looking beautiful. Tomorrow I will go get a mammogram and then do my shopping. I will wear a mask although, not unlike the floors, I don't really give a damn right now if I get Covid or not. What's one more nightmare? Isn't that awful? It's all a little too deja vu-ey for my comfort. I felt this way after the election in 2016. What's the point? Who cares? 

I know. I know. The point is to keep on for my kids. For my grandkids. Do you know how guilty I feel that I'm not able to help Lily right now when she needs it the most? She's having to oversee the kids' education and it's not easy. If I could help her, ease her burden just the slightest, it would mean so much to me, if not to her. She's with them almost all the time and not getting any breaks. It's too much. 

Well. Here we are. How are you? I've asked twice now. I really want to know. Don't you wish we could all hold each others' hands right now? Close your eyes. Pretend we are. Imagine that. Imagine the strength and warmth we could pass to each other. Imagine if we all took a deep breath together and let it out together. Imagine what it would be like if each and every one of us could hold each other close for a little while. Imagine what our smiles would look like. Would feel like. 

Let's be here for each other as we keep watch over what is happening in our country. 

I love you.

Ms. Moon

This soup is comfort food. Not as much in the eating of it, most likely, as it has been in the making of it. I started early this morning, simmering a venison roast's bones that I'd frozen with garlic and a bay leaf for hours and hours and just a while ago I cut up carrots and celery and onions and sweet potato and tomatoes and browned some venison stew meat and combined all of that with a can of tomatoes and frozen broccoli, green beans, corn, baby limas, and peas. That and leftover bread will be our supper. 

My other comfort today was having August and Levon over so that Jessie could get her shopping done. And that was a joy. They really hung out with their grandfather more than with me because that is THEIR joy. And his.

August helped Boppy open the garage doors. 

And then the boys helped him oil up a bike we have here and put air in the tires. I loved watching them, Boppy explaining what he was doing and making sure that they were getting to assist him. Unfortunately, even with the seat adjusted all the way down, August's legs are not quite long enough to reach the pedals. "I will be big enough in this many days," he said, holding his hands up with ten fingers spread. We agreed that it will be soon. No doubt. "Me too!" said Levon. And he is also correct. 

They helped Boppy unload some logs somewhere while I made peanut butter sandwiches and then it was lunch time. After that we read books, the boys and I in the library. "No Hugs Til Saturday," "Duck in a Truck," "There's a Wocket in my Pocket," "The Jolly Christmas Postman." Levon slipped out of the room before we had finished that last one and we found him in the Glen Den, watching a video with Boppy on how to drive a front-end loader. August joined them. 

Levon was mesmerized. 

And then we moved on to necklace making with beads and elastic string. This made us happy for quite awhile. August can string his own beads but Levon likes to find the ones he wants and give them to me to add. Even though we tried to pick up all the beads that had rolled to the floor, I bet you that there are still at least twenty of the little things hiding out in the dining room as we speak. 

After that, we went back outside and the boys and Bop opened up the old camper van and pretended to go camping. They are charmed by the little sink, the idea of packing food and, as Levon said, "Eating wherever we want!" and sleeping like cozy bugs in cozy rugs. 

I sent that picture to Jessie and she said she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen Levon smile like that. He is a Boppy's Boy for sure. 

I was in the kitchen cutting up vegetables when Jessie came to pick them up. As always, they were as happy to go home as they were to get here. They are such easy-going fellas. Far more for us than for Mama, I'm sure because that's how it goes. They don't fuss and they don't cry and best of all, they don't fight. At least not here. I have it on good authority that this is not always the case at home. 

And now we wait. I guess some polling places are about to close and I am certain that Trump has an army of lawyers lined up in three piece suits, holding their brief cases and ready to dash off to wherever they need to go to try and stop votes from being counted. I feel almost sick with anxiety and dread. I dare not hope. Isn't that awful? But last time I had so MUCH hope and the way I felt when that hope was dashed upon the sharp rocks of shock is not something I feel I can live through again although honestly, there is no way to be prepared should the election turn out badly. 

I am thinking of the night Obama won his first term and Hank called me in tears. "We did it!" he cried. "We did it!" and I cried too, from stunned disbelief and joy. 
Oh god, how I want to feel that way again. 

Well. We shall see. And no matter what happens, I have my family and we have each other and there is soup and there is bread and no one can take the love away from us and no one can take our kindnesses away from us and no one can take our beliefs and our dreams and our values and our hope for a better world eventually away from us. 

See you tomorrow, come hell or high water. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Distraction And Being Distraught

Last night's supper was such a failure that I had to make something good for our lunch today and so, inspired by Lis who had made eggs with the last of Lon's garden cherry tomatoes, I made a sort of frittata, or a tortilla, I guess, in the Spanish sense. Also, we are drowning in eggs and they are so good and so pretty with their golden yolks. For whatever reason, the eggs in this dish were incredibly light and fluffy. Perhaps because I beat them with whole milk instead of 2%. Who knows? But oh, it was delicious. 

I should have known better than to make last night's bean and shrimp stew and I probably never would have if my friend on FB hadn't said she'd made it and that they loved it. 
We definitely did NOT love it and I should have listened to my cook's instinct about the wisdom of combining beans and shrimp unless it's in a sort of gumbo dish. It was just...weird. Like trying to marry a dragon and King Kong. Or a mermaid and a boar hog. Or something. And perhaps it just wasn't to our taste. The chickens got what we didn't eat and they seemed to find it to their liking well enough and will turn all of that protein into more golden-yoked eggs so there was not really much waste to it. And the bread and the salad were wonderful. 

Am I droning on? Yes. Yes I am. I am trying to keep my mind occupied instead of letting it run the hamster wheel of tomorrow's election and how it turns out over and over and over again. 
I am so afraid. 
There. I've said it. I just am. 
I honestly do not think our country can survive another four years of that wad of orange detritus in the Oval Office. I do take hope and comfort in the fact that so many people have early-voted either by mail or in person. That seems auspicious. But there is so much that takes me to dark places. For one thing, I never, ever believed that he'd be elected the first time and I will never get over the devastating revelation and realization as to how so many of my fellow citizens think and what they truly believe. And the truest thing that their hero ever said was in 2016 when he declared that he could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot someone and he wouldn't lose any supporters. 
Honestly? I think he'd gain some. Depending on who he shot. And what color their skin was. 
And although I've been scared to death that this election is not going to be either fair or honest, I absolutely did not think that there would be Trump supporters blocking polling places or trying to stop Biden caravans on highways. I don't know WHY I never thought this would happen. Maybe because, well, you know- we live in the United States of America and we just don't do those kinds of things?
Where the hell have I BEEN for the past four years? Haven't I learned by now that there is no bottom to the depths of the despicable behavior that he or his followers are capable of? 

I forgot to tell y'all that while we were at the beach all of the Biden signs in my neighborhood were stolen one night. Except, interestingly, in the yards of my Black neighbors. 
This says to me that the thieves were cowardly-ass, asshole rednecks. 
It also says to me that Trump supporters have no manners, no couth, no respect for others' property or political beliefs. We Biden supporters have left our neighbors' Trumps sign go unmolested for four years now. FOUR FUCKING YEARS!

And that's enough of that. I can't do any more than I've done. I can't even always control the outcome of a supper recipe, much less the election of a president. So I stayed fairly busy today. I cleaned the hen house, I worked in the garden, doing a little weeding, a little mulching. 

That's some lettuce, I believe. I could be wrong. The spinach and swiss chard and cilantro and bok choy and whatever the hell else I planted are also coming up and the rows we planted a few weeks ago are looking very nice. 

The carrots are especially cheerful. 

I listened to the last few hours of "A Private Cathedral" by James Lee Burke, narrated by Will Patton and that certainly kept me distracted. I would never really recommend Burke's books to most people because his tales can be quite violent, quite dark, but he is a beautiful writer and Patton's narration of the books is as perfectly suited to them as an organ is to a church hymn. 

The sun has set and by this time tomorrow I'll be glued to the news as we all will. I have no doubt that we will go to bed not knowing a damn thing. I'm going to try with all of my heart to keep a spark of hope alive and burning brightly. I guess that's all we can do. 

That and continue to be as kind and decent as we possibly can. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And Back To Lloyd Which Is Not A Bad Place To Be At All

That's a ghost crab who let me take his picture yesterday on my walk. He wasn't happy about it though and scuttled into the water quick, quick! and a tiny wave took him to safety. It already all seems like a dream, being at the beach with my husband and daughter and those funny boys. Last night they gave their grandfather a head massage. 

It got a little crazy but he still enjoyed it. 

I finished Slothy's blanket. 

I asked August how Slothy liked it. "He likes it perfectly," he said. Levon immediately demanded a blanket for his Doggy. I have started on it but he cannot understand why I haven't already finished it. Crocheting is fast but not that fast. 

This morning Mr. Moon got up around 5:00 a.m. to meet up with friends to go fishing out on the Gulf. He'd already packed up and loaded all the beach gear so I forgave him. Plus, that extra hour we got with the time change meant that the ridiculous 10:00 a.m. check-out time was really 11:00 for our body clocks. Which helped a great deal. Jessie and I got everything packed and loaded with time to spare which was a small miracle. We had moved IN to that place. And it was a very sweet place. It had everything we needed and more and the absolutely best stocked kitchen I've ever encountered in a rental. The knives were shit but I took my own. Jessie and I were good little housewives and we tidied everything up, wiped down all the kitchen surfaces, took out all the garbage, put the towels in the laundry basket, left the dishwasher running when we left. I always want the people who have to clean up after I leave a place to think highly of me. Why is that? I do not know but it's the way it is. And why not try to make their jobs a little easier? I know they must have a certain allotted time for each house and if I can save them a minute or two then I'm pleased to do so. 

I drove home and it was a pleasant drive. I stopped at the little roadside/bayside park in Carrabelle to snap a picture of the groovy throw-back Florida picnic tables. 

I've posted pictures of them before but that was a few hurricanes ago. These things are well built! 

I got back to Lloyd before one and all is well here. It's a beautiful fall day and supposed to get down into the forties tonight which is cold as can be for us. Well, relatively, as I always need to say. I brought everything in but not before I'd checked the garden which is looking great. Rachel and Hank spent the night here Friday and Rachel even left us delicious almond sugar cookies. I was happy to see the chickens running about. They looked happy and healthy. I unpacked almost everything, put food away, unloaded my own dishwasher, did some sweeping, some more laundry, watered plants, started beans cooking for a recipe I've been intrigued by for awhile from the NYT's cooking app for a lemony shrimp and white bean stew. It calls for canned beans but I didn't have those so I cooked my own. I've got a loaf of bread rising and these lovely thinnings from the garden for a salad. 

Also, a Miss Tweety egg! Darling little thing. The shrimp I'm cooking were actually purchased for bait but they didn't all get used and will be fine in the recipe. 

Mr. Moon just got home from the sea with a few snapper that I'll happily cook tomorrow. 

I feel, again, at peace. It's nice to be home but I could have happily stayed on St. George for another week. August and Levon are fairly easy boys to get along with, to live with. Here's a picture I took last night of two boys getting their teeth brushed at once. 

They thought that was hysterical. So did I. 

In a way, I can't believe I actually went through with my desire for us to get away to the beach. I always talk about these things but never do them. This time, I suppose my soul knew I was desperate. I'm so glad I did and I think that eventually, Jack and Maurice will forgive me for leaving them. 

It's going to be a hell of a week. Let's see how long it takes me to lose my lotus blossom, as dear Lis says. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Think of the waves. Breathe some more. Be here now. Etc. 

Love...Ms. Moon