The Ghosts Of Thanksgivings Past

 Yesterday Lily asked for my chocolate pecan recipe so I got it out and took pictures and sent it to her. I think I should probably recopy the recipe, don't you? But I used it today to make a lovely pie for us and then I made Mrs. Matthew's recipe for plain pecan pie and here's what I have on the counter now.

Making these pies I always remember the woman we called Granny Matthews and I have written about her frequently. If you are curious, do a search up there at the top left of the page for either Mrs. Matthews or Granny Matthews although I must warn you that some of the stories she is involved in are, well, difficult. Still, she has a very warm spot in my heart and I like remembering her. 

Today has been a day for memories. I watched a five minute video that someone took of driving down the malecon in Cozumel and I watched it, remembering every block as somewhere I have walked, shopped, eaten, drank, danced, or stayed. It brought tears to my eyes. So much magic there for me and I miss it horribly. And of course, memories of Thanksgivings past are evoked by not only the physical recipe cards but by smells and actions, the specific ingredients as I chop them, roll them, prepare them. I have been making Thanksgiving dinners since 1976 and I know that because it was the year that Hank was born and my then-husband's sweet mother and her partner came and ate with us and I'll never forget that she put all of the leftovers away for me which was the greatest gift she could have given me. I remember Thanksgivings where I was pregnant and so tired that after I got the dinner on the table I excused myself and took a nap. I remember Thanksgivings where I set up tables all over my living room like a small restaurant because we had so many guests. I remember Thanksgivings where people stayed so long that I found some of them sleeping in bedrooms hours after the meal was over. I remember Thanksgivings where I was resentful, Thanksgivings where I was truly thankful, Thanksgivings with people whom I loved and adored who are no longer here. 

And I remember the Thanksgiving Eves where after a long day of cooking and prepping, I threw giant parties for musician friends and family and neighbors and loved ones of all description. A bonfire, oysters raw and roasted, pasta and so much more and this old, old house welcomed everyone so gracefully and graciously in rooms, porches, and the yard. 

How did I do that? I do not know. 

But here we are in this quite different year and Jessie and Vergil and the boys are here and I've done all the things I listed yesterday that I needed to do and cleaned out the hen house, too, and there are piles of stuffed animals on beds and little boys watching TV with their grandfather and we are going to eat pizza tonight, thank god, that I bought frozen from Publix yesterday. I thought about making my own but then I thought better. 

I am looking forward to tomorrow where Jessie and I will finish up the cooking while the little guys and the big guys wander in and out of the kitchen. No pressure at all. The eating of the meal is not the point of it, in my estimation. That happens so fast and then, it is done. It is the cooking, the loving, the gathering, the rituals, the love. Or at least, whatever parts of that we can do here in 2020. 

And the dancing in the hallway and the sip of yum rum. Mr. Moon came through on that one. 

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. It's going to be different this year but we still have much to be grateful for. So very, very much. 

Love...Ms. Moon

We Go On As Best We Can

There's the ram statue down the road from us at what I call, "El Rancho." I have no idea what the numbers signify. Could be the address for all I know. But it's looking quite spiffy, isn't it? I would not be surprised to see flowers planted around it at some point. As I passed by today, I also saw two beautiful, huge black cows, resting under the trees. "Hello!" I called in my saying-hello-to-cows voice. They looked at me with fierce indifference which sounds like an oxymoron but I swear it is not when it comes to these cows. 
Or cats. 

It did not please me nearly as much to see the two Trump signs that I'd pulled out of the dirt and laid down on public property a few weeks ago, now re-erected. 
I pulled them again and laid them back down but on my way to town I noted that one of them had been put back up. Why only one? I need to either let that shit go or be really evil and dispose of the signs but in my innocent and crazy heart, that would be theft. 
Which I am no good at. 

And yes, I did go to town and it was terrible. I really did make an effort last week to get everything we'd need for Thanksgiving so that I didn't have to go in this week but of course that came to naught. Thanksgiving really is covered but Mr. Moon is going to drive up to Tennessee on Monday to hunt with an old, old friend and both of them are being tested for Covid and they are going to isolate when they're not in the woods and it was suggested to me that if I made a huge pot of chili, they could eat on that for days, thus cutting down on their trips out to procure food. 
What's a good wife to do? 
I bought all the stuff I need to make that huge pot of chili and also a lot of snacks so that my husband doesn't have to stop on the road as often and if I'm in a particularly good mood this weekend, I may even make him cookies to take. 
I really am a very fine wife. But honestly, he is the finest husband. 
When he told me about the trip I was of course worried about the covid situation. Still, I think they will be as safe as they can be. And generally, when he goes off to hunt I feel as if I'm on a little vacation of my own. I love being alone and rarely get lonely but I am so very used to having him around now that I actually teared up at the thought of him being gone. 
It'll be okay. And I will still see Jessie and the boys and also Lily and her children for backyard visits.

Speaking of- Jessie and Vergil are going to spend the night tomorrow so that we can get up early and start cooking Thursday morning and the guyfolk can do projects or whatever it is that they want to do. Jessie said that this morning the boys heard her and Vergil talking about this plan and immediately rushed to get ready. 

"That's a lot of luggage," I texted her. 

"It's all stuffed animals and trucks," she texted back. 
Aren't they the little style mavens? 

Yes. Yes they are.

So Costco was okay and Brenda, she of the beautiful mermaid eyeshadow, was wearing a gold sequined mask. I love that woman. Publix was horrible, though. So many people and I should not have even been there but I was NOT going to go on Friday or Saturday or Sunday either. I raced about and got my chili stuff and snack stuff and other stuff and got out of there as quickly as I could. I honestly felt like I was going to have a panic attack right there and did indeed get all hot and sweaty and spacey but I managed to escape. 

So that was my day and I'm making split pea soup and for some reason the split peas are taking forever to cook so I guess they're as ancient as Egypt. Hell, I even soaked them which you do not generally need to do. 

Tomorrow will be boiling giblets day and making cornbread for stuffing day and making Mrs. Matthew's chocolate pecan pie day and so on and so forth. And even though so much will be the same, so much will be different. We certainly will not be going out tomorrow night to hear music which is the traditional thing for us to do but maybe we can do a little hallway dancing. 

And maybe Mr. Moon will get me a bottle of dark rum tomorrow when he has to go to town so that I can have my yum-rum sip and toast to my dear Lynn with whom I shared that tradition for so many years on so many Thanksgiving mornings and I will say, "Whoop-Ai-Ay!" as she always said and then I'll go baste my turkey. 

Love...Ms. Moon

In Which I am Somehow Uplifted

 It's been an interesting day and mostly a very good one. It's been cooler, for one thing. Still warm enough for me to break a sweat on the walk which I took this morning. Last week, in my slugfest state, I did not walk once and this morning I knew I absolutely had to and I'm glad I did although this sight presented itself to me as I walked past my next door neighbors' house. 

They have not only replaced the original Trump sign, they've added a new one. And the "Women for Trump" sticker which had been scraped off the back window of their car has also been replaced. 
This all leads me to believe that the original sign and sticker were stolen although it's hard to believe that anyone would take the time and energy to scrape that sticker off a window. 
Jesus H. Christ. Am I really going to have to look at those signs for another four years? Forever? 

I have to admit that I felt downhearted, seeing these signs. One of the worst parts about them is that the new one is practically in the yard of the church which lies between our houses and it is a Black church and I have no reason to believe that our neighbors didn't put that damn horrible racist sign as close to their property line as they could. 

But then this cheered me.

Have I mentioned that another neighbor put this up recently? It makes me so happy. I've been asking Mr. Moon to make me one for years but it's low on the project list and hasn't happened yet but having this one so near is almost as good. I have taken some books and magazines down there and put them in including one kid book that I NEVER WANT TO READ AGAIN because Owen loved it so much and I read it to him about a million times. It's an Elmo book and thus, no great piece of literature. But here's a funny thing- recently, Boud, of Field and Fen had posted about books she's reading and one of them was an Anne Tyler book. "The Beginner's Goodbye." In my comment to her post, I had said that I did not remember reading that one and I thought I'd read all of her books except for her newest one and that I needed to get a copy of it. And lo and behold what should I find in the little library today but that very same book? 
It came home with me. 

What a very nice coincidence! 

As I was walking, a truck honked at me and pulled over and goodness, gracious- look who was in that truck!

I know. I know. It's a terrible picture of two beautiful boys. Vergil was taking them to a local river and they were on their way to stop at our house to borrow Boppy's trolling motor. What a nice surprise! 

And the rest of my walk was sweet. I did not walk fast but took my time and spent an hour outdoors and I had a little chat with Jacob and Emma who were sitting in their yard. I came home and hung laundry on the line and had lunch and made Mr. Moon's lunch and then I put on my gardening overalls and went out and attacked a small piece of ground near the sidewalk where my husband had poisoned some poison ivy which sort of worked but of course, not really because even a nuclear device would not completely eradicate poison ivy and I've been meaning to get out there and pull what's coming up before it becomes another murder jungle. I wore gloves but felt the entire time as if I was probably the stupidest person on earth although I know that Ellen  has been doing the same thing on her property over in Texas. Maybe we're not stupid so much as just...stubborn? 

Whatever. I gave it my best shot although I know I left a ton of the stuff in the ground via roots which are long and thick and travel far. While I was working a guy from down the road who travels about in a motorized wheelchair came by and he stopped and we talked for a few minutes. We've never really done that, he and I, although we see each other all the time. He's one of the regular visitors at No Man Lord's and lives right across the street from him. He showed me a picture on his phone of the car wreck he'd been in which is the reason he's in a wheelchair. It was horrific. It didn't look like anyone could have possibly survived in that flattened mess of steel and glass. 

"Good Lord!" I said. "How are you still alive?"

He told me that it was because of angels, his mother being the main one. I'm not going to say it wasn't because some sort of miracle had obviously occurred. 

He's a handsome man and his face appears to be unscarred. 

He's also a popular man. Every local car that passed honked at him and he waved at them all. Finally he asked if I'd seen Pinot and I said that no, I had not, and he said that he was going to go down to where he stays and see if he could find him and off he went. 

When I finished up with all of the poison ivy I wanted to pull, I came in the house, threw my clothes in the washing machine and took a hot shower with Dr. Bronner's, scrubbing every bit of my body, even the parts that had been covered. We shall see what happens. 

So it's been a good day and here's a picture of Magnolia June that Lily sent in a group text. 

She is holding a little green anole she named "Girl" and trying to convince her mother not to make her let it go so that she can keep it as a pet. 

That child. 

Hank sent an attachment of the video of the song "Born Free" by Andy Williams and this message: 

"Play her that. Hold her and sway. Tell her it's best for everyone and that Girl is a wild lizard who must reach her potential out in the world."

I might quite possibly have the best family in the whole damn world. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Look- The Earth Is Not Flat And The Emperor Is Completely Naked

I have been just terrible at answering comments the last few days. Lord knows I have enough time but as I've noticed since this whole isolation thing has begun, time is just ridiculously slippery somehow. Today for instance was another day when I haven't gotten comments answered and for no good reason. The day somehow just...got away from me and here it is, about to be dark and I've got to cook supper and I want to get something written here although for the life of me, I do not know what. 

It's been another regular day in these somewhat unusual times, meaning I have been home and have done regular things. I worked in the garden a little, replanting some beets and spinach, weeding and thinning. I did a few crosswords. I...
What else? 
Nothing, really. 

Took a nap. There. That messed me up. I almost never nap these days. There's just no excuse and god knows I don't want to interfere with my greatest pleasure which is falling asleep at night. My sleep is a respite from the insanity which is life today in America. I keep thinking about the old saw of putting a frog in a pot of cool water and putting it on the heat and how the poor frog doesn't realize he's in danger until the water reaches boiling point. That's what it's felt like here in the states since 2016 when Trump became president. Remember how shocked people were when he claimed, baselessly and easily proven false, that he'd gotten the biggest crowd for his inauguration in history? We were outraged, we were dumbfounded! It was perfectly clear from the pictures that no, he had not. And. yet...he insisted it was true. His minions insisted it was true and the term, "alternate facts" was invented. 
I feel as if we've been living in an alternative universe since then.
Bizarro world, if you will. 
And it has only gotten worse. Even now, it seems that few news outlets dare to call Trump's "alternate facts" lies which is absolutely what they are. He lies every time he opens his mouth and those lies have ranged from the patently ridiculous to the deadly dangerous, especially when they have involved the pandemic. 
It turns out that the lesson in the old tale of the Emperor's New Clothes is as true today as it was when it came out in 1837 in Anderson's Fairy Tales for Children. As much as we humans would love to believe that we are far more sophisticated and educated than any generations before us, we obviously are not, and the advent of the internet has allowed those who proclaim the emperor not to be naked but in fact, to be clothed in the finest velvets and silks and linens ever seen in the history of the universe that they are absolutely correct! New myths and legends are born and believed, perpetrated by the internet to fit the alternative facts and thus we have conspiracy theories and QAnon and I don't-even-want-to-know that seemingly no rational person could ever possibly believe, and yet- here we are. 
We are at the point where we aren't surprised at all when the nude emperor struts about claiming that he won an election that he so obviously lost. We sit and drum our fingers waiting for the days to pass until the new president is inaugurated and the petulant orange penguin has waddled off in chains, if necessary.
But even though we can feel fairly certain that our systems will work to ensure a transition (I don't even dare call it a peaceful transition), there is always the fear that nothing else has gone as it should in this administration and that somehow sanity will not prevail, something horrible and unthinkable will occur, and, well- I dare not even say what could happen. 

And off course the unending months of the virus spreading across our land, our world, making us redefine our very existences would be enough to trigger insanity in most of us in "normal" times and these are absolutely not normal in any way, shape, or fashion. 

No wonder we've lost our bearings, our senses of safety, security, motivation and also our minds. 

At least that's how I feel tonight. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Sometimes We Can't Help But Cry

Lily brought her children over today for what is becoming our regular Saturday visit. Magnolia was carrying flowers that they brought me and I was so surprised. 
"Why did you get me flowers?" I asked. 
"Because we love you," said Lily. 
Fifty million heart emojis. 

We have our routine down. Someone has to get Maggie the toys she will want to play with which are the farm and the little rabbits and bears with their houses. Gibson likes to play with some magnet toys while we chat at the table outside. Today Owen and Boppy did some target shooting with an air gun. Or BB gun. I don't know. It wasn't very loud. So that was a bit different. Lily and Gibson and I caught up and then I made us a little lunch of cheese toasts and chips and salsa and pickles and there is a routine to that now, too. I bring out plates and Lily sanitizes her hands and serves her children's plates and we make do. Today Miss Pecky came around and in a horrible move, thinking she saw something worth eating on Gibson's knee, she pecked a scab which drew blood and hurt him very much. Then the dang chicken flew up and grabbed a cheese toast! I never knew her to be so bold. She didn't mean to hurt Gibson. Chickens often peck at our toes, especially if we're wearing toenail polish, thinking that perhaps we have food at the end of our feet. Chickens are very food-oriented. You've probably guessed that by now. 

And so it was pleasant and Maggie found eggs and we joked and laughed and discussed and I teared up a little when we started talking about Thanksgiving and soon it was time for them to go. 

Yes. We are still in flip-flops or barefooted around here. I did change out my tank top for a shirt with sleeves a little while ago. 

Nothing else to report except that Maurice seems to be softening a little bit after her two-day accidental isolation in the garage. Last night, not only did she sleep on the bed but she actually moved off the pillow that she's been sleeping on between Mr. Moon and me and crept down to snuggle next to my hip. This is new. She and Jack continue to play with the cat toys I bought but also continue to pretend that they are not if we interrupt their play, staring innocently off into the middle distance and when we leave the hallway, we hear the jingle of the little toys again as they are batted about.  

It is so strange that my life has become so small that new cat behaviors are something worth nothing. I have got to get more motivated because I seem to just do less and less lately. Doing the basic chores and anticipating bed time is hardly a life being lived fully. I remember back when this whole pandemic started and there seemed to be more motivation- to flatten the curve, to stay safe and keep others safe, to make use of all the food because shopping was so perilous, to savor each minute because life seemed even more tenuous than ever. Of course nothing has really changed. We still need to stay safe, to keep others safe, to keep the health care workers from being completely overcome. Using all the food is always a good idea and a noble goal. And life is actually even more tenuous than it was in March, shopping even more perilous, considering the statistics. 
I don't know. I just don't know. But I do know that seeing children and grandchildren when I can't hug them or kiss them or cuddle them is just damn hard and not getting easier. Having Jessie and her family in our bubble is life-saving but having to observe stark precautions around the rest of them is overwhelmingly sad sometimes. 

When I stood by the car waiting to tell them all good-bye today, Magnolia held a ballon that she'd gotten at Publix. "What is August's favorite color?" she asked me. I told her that August's favorite color is actually rainbow- all the colors. "What about this color?" she asked, indicating the red balloon that was floating, anchored by a plastic star, the string in her pudgy beautiful hand. 
"Yes, he likes that color," I said. 
"Why don't you keep this balloon and give it to August?" she asked me. My heart broke. She misses her cousins so. I told her that it would probably deflate before I saw him again. 
She was sipping on a juice in a bottle with a Frozen character on it. 

"You keep this," she said. "You keep it with your cups."
"I don't know that I'd have much use for it," I said. "You keep it, Maggie."
"No. Levon can use it when he comes over." 
I thanked her and told her that that was so very sweet and that I loved her, that she, too, can use it when she comes over.
"Because Levon loves me?" she asked. I said that yes, he did.

I took the bottle and will indeed keep it with my cups for when Levon comes over. 

Fucking virus. 
We go on.

Love...Ms. Moon

Just A Very Good Day

 Today was the perfect antidote to yesterday's in-town stress and anxiety and resulting exhaustion. This morning Jessie texted and asked if I'd like to go to a park or the Jr. Museum with them or hiking or something and I said that yes, I would, but I'd also love to have them out here because I am lazy as hell. She said they'd like that very much and so out they came and it was just a sweet day. 

August and I seemed to reach a new level in our relationship today. It started when we were in the driveway, sort of looking for treasure but sort of just hanging out. The boys had shovels and trowels and were scraping at the hard ground and finding little chips of glass and old china and I got a chair and just sat down so that Jessie and I could chat, which we did. She was sitting on the ground and August came and draped himself around her, mostly on her lap and finally she said, "August, this isn't very comfortable for me." 
"Come sit on my lap," I said, patting the cushiony comfort of my legs. I was not expecting him to take me up on my offer. As I have said before, August isn't a big snuggler but up he came, and there he sat for the longest time. I scratched his back which all little children love and which actually, all of us love. I often say that we do not realize how itchy our backs are until someone scratches them for us. We are apes at heart, are we not? And as such, we don't do nearly enough social grooming. Levon came and joined us for awhile, squeezing in next to his brother and I was in complete heaven. 

Eventually, it was lunch time and we all came into the house and ate various leftovers and peanut butter and honey and raisin sandwiches. Juice and graham crackers for dessert. And then it was book time. We read another two chapters of "Charlotte's Web" and "The Very Best Nest" and "Babar's Cousin: That Rascal Arthur" which we had never read and enjoyed tremendously. We agreed that it was a fine book and we were glad we'd read it. Levon had lost interest after "The Very Best Nest" and he and Jessie went out to play some more but August wanted to look at my big mermaid book again. This is a coffee table book that May got me one year for Christmas and August loves to look at all the mermaid pictures. We discussed the various mermaids from around the world and throughout history and I tried to explain what myths and legends are and we talked about the pictures and what they might mean and it reminded me so much of looking at my grandfather's big National Geographic book about early man. Granddaddy didn't read it to me- it was way too dense for a child of my age- but we talked about the pictures and what they might mean. A magical place from which my imagination to leap and I still remember that with a fierce fondness. 

I felt that way today with August. Like we were making a bond or strengthening a bond that has been forming between us since he was born but which has had to be nurtured slowly and organically. I never want to be a granny who demands kisses or hugs. That is wrong on so many levels. Nor do I want to pretend to be a character whom I am not in order to please children. I want my relationships with my grandchildren to be like my relationships with my children and my friends- based on our real selves and a mutual enjoyment of our company together. Otherwise- what's the point? 

But okay, yeah, yeah. I do give them M&M's as a going-away treat because I want them to love me so I need to get off my high horse and admit that truth. 
I am a grandma after all. 

Here's August explaining something to me while I was taking the clothes off the line. 

It may have been about his trophies, one of which he got for sewing "faster than a sewing machine!" 
Mmmm. Okay. 
No worries about his imagination. 

When Jessie and the boys were in the car and ready to go, August said to his mother, "Did you know that sometimes when I am talking to you I am talking to myself?"

She looked at me and I looked at her and we both laughed. Because...yeah. 
And then Levon added something about "toots" to the conversation which I am sure was hysterical because toots are never not funny. 

And off they drove. 

"I love you! I love you!" 

And I came in and made my cranberry relish and put the clean sheets on the bed. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Bought Bacon, Butter, And Barack

I have taken exactly zero pictures today. I've been too busy doing things that did not beg for posterity through photography if you know what I mean. It was not a stop-and-smell-the-roses-and-then-take-a-picture sort of day. It was a get-your-ass-to-town-and-get-shit-done sort of day. 

I did not procrastinate as badly as I usually do on shopping days but it was still almost noon before I left the house. I stopped by Hank and Rachel's with eggs, venison, and a pair of socks they'd left over here. I got to see Rachel but Hank was asleep because, as August told me a little while ago, "Hank is nocturnal."

Yes. Yes he is. Hank stays awake and makes sure that the world is turning as it should while the rest of us slumber. When we get up and begin to function, he hands over the running of the planet to us and goes off to bed for his well-deserved sleep. It is the service he provides. I had to laugh this morning over the comments on a Hank FB post. May commented at some ungodly hour of the morning and Hank replied, "Why are you awake?" and she answered, "Because I have to be at work in two hours and I need this time because I am old." To which Hank said, "As long as it works for you. This is when I do the dishes and work on my trivia chores."
This sums up the difference in siblings quite nicely, I believe.

Anyway, after I chatted with Rachel for a few minutes I went to a local compounding pharmacy where I get my hormones. That was fine and everything was fine but I was treading on the edge of sharp anxiety all day long. I was very hungry though, and decided to order pick-up at a seafood restaurant near Costco, my next stop and so I did. I ordered a grilled fish sandwich and some cole slaw and I picked them up and ate them in a shady spot in the parking lot. The sandwich was surprisingly delicious and it gave me another reason not to rush right on in to the giant warehouse of Costcolandia. 
I really wasn't feeling it today. I got the stuff I needed plus a copy of Barack Obama's new book. I'd been listening to an interview with him on Fresh Air while I was driving around and was so pleased to find the book. 
My GOD! What a gracious, funny, brilliant, well-spoken man he is. Comparing him to the Orange Intestine is, well- pointless. There is no comparison. One was one of the best presidents this country has ever had and a man whom dogs and children love and whom women swoon over and men envy for his coolness and basketball abilities while the other is a poor imitation of a human male who has to pay women to sleep with him, has probably never had a pet in his life nor read a book in his life, can hardly make it down a ramp without assistance, and who makes children cry just by his very presence and who has almost single-handedly destroyed democracy. 
But I digress. I can't wait to read the book although I want to finish the one I'm reading now which was written by a guy in the group of people with whom I went to Cuba, entitled Harmony and Normalization: US Cuban Musical Diplomacy. Tim Storhoff is the author's name and Lis and I both came to adore him on the trip because he was so funny and so sweet and sometimes told dirty jokes about Bach and his organ. His book is quite scholarly but his style is accessible and I'm enjoying it. I had no idea that Tim was a scholar at all when I first met him but I suspected right away that he was a lot smarter than the rest of us. He is one of those quiet smart guys that listens a lot and then suddenly comes up with something that sort of blows your mind. 
He's definitely not only the smartest guy in the room, he's also truly the coolest. 

There's Tim and his book. And I must say that Obama comes off quite well in it. If not for his policies on Cuba, I would never have been able to visit that amazing country so close and yet so far away and neither would have the Rolling Stones. 

Lord, I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I really am exhausted. Once again I felt as if I was in Publix for an eternity and then I came home and unloaded everything and put everything away and made chili and folded laundry and unloaded the dishwasher and I have the oven preheating now for the loaf of sourdough that's about ready to be popped in. 
Speaking of ovens- I want a new one. My stove is...adequate. But there is much about it which does not make me happy. My stove is my most-used tool and I am itching for a better one. I suppose I should start doing some research.

So I guess I'm ready for Thanksgiving, whatever that means. I bought a tiny turkey because all I really care about at the Thanksgiving dinner is stuffing (not dressing), cranberry/orange/pecan relish, and green bean casserole. Yeah. Really. And now I have the ingredients for those things so whatever...

Mostly I just want us all to be safe. I saw people buying huge turkeys and carts full of beverages and pies and rolls and all of the things that one would need to feed a huge gathering of people and I wanted to slap them and say, "WHAT THE FUCK?" 
How many people who attend huge Thanksgiving dinners will end up in the ICU by Christmas? How long can our health care workers keep doing what they're doing before they break? How long before our entire health care system breaks down entirely? 

Like I said, I'm tired. We're all tired. Some of us can probably barely get out of bed on their days off. Let's try not to add to the problems. Cranberry sauce and pumpkin pies aren't worth risking lives for. They just aren't. 

Be well.

Love...Ms. Moon

A Better Day For Sure

Every fall when the horrible, awful, Bradford pears color up and lose their leaves, some of them look so much like the surrounding/setting in which the Virgin of Guadalupe is always pictured. I probably point this out every year. I used to have such a crush on that goddess, that Queen of Mexico, La Reina de Mexico.

Images of her can be found everywhere in Mexico from churches to markets to bars and restaurants to homes. She is still well-represented in my house although my mad crush has mellowed into more of a longtime, gentle love. 

Here's an image I just found online that I adore and wouldn't you know I can't find the artist's name? 

There's a thousand or more words for you. 

So today was much better for me. I went to sleep early last night and woke up feeling much improved and very rested. I knew that August and Levon were going to come out to play so that Jessie could go do her shopping and I got my necessary chores done quickly, including changing out the hay in the hen house. Poop begone! 
At least for a moment. 

The boys burst in the kitchen door and said exactly what I knew they would say which was, "Is Boppy here?" He was not. He'd gone hunting but would return soon. So after Jessie left, we played a bit and read a chapter of "Charlotte's Web" and the boys kept asking me to sew them something. I told them that I needed to oil my machine before I could sew anything, and so we decided to do that together. I can't tell you how much pleasure this gave me. I got out the old Singer and set it on the dining room table and told them that it was made the same year I was born so that we are exactly the same age. 
"Does that mean you were born to sew on it?" asked August. 
I pondered for a moment and then said, "Yes. Yes it does."

We got out the little pamphlet that came with the machine which has illustrations of where you put your drops of oil and we got to work. 

We talked about how the machine runs and what the bobbin is for and I even demonstrated how, when you sew with a needle by hand, you have to go underneath and above, both, to make the stitches hold the fabric together. Levon eventually lost interest but August did not and after we'd oiled AND lubricated the machine I showed him how I run a bobbin and thread the machine and then I showed him how it sewed. 
"See?" I said. "It sounds so quiet and it runs so smoothly? That's because we oiled it."
It was so nice to be able to show the boys something that I know how to do, that I sort of understand although, as I told August- it all still seems like magic to me but I know it's not.

Boppy came home and showed the guys pictures of the deer he saw from his stand this morning. Pictures and his empty coffee cup were all that he brought home today. I made them all some lunch and then I let the boys watch a tiny bit of T.V. and then we played cards. But oh! Here's a great picture.

Wearing Boppy's boots. 

These boys are so sweet. And so sweet to each other. I told August today that I really like the way he listens and behaves so nicely and he said, "So does Levon." 
I mean...please! 
Of course they are children and sometimes they don't listen and sometimes they are crazy (for about fifteen minutes today August refused to say anything but, "Why?") but overall, they are a joy.

Before Mama got here to pick them up we played some cards on the back porch, Levon on my team and on my lap. I was a bit relieved when Jessie did show up because it appeared to be one of those games of Battle that was never going to end, ever. 

Tomorrow I am going to run errands in town and despite my resistance to leaving Lloyd, I know it's good for me to get out of the house and out into the world. Unless I catch covid. Which hopefully, I won't. 
I am having a harder and harder time remembering that cases are spiking along with hospitalizations and deaths. I guess since I rarely go anywhere none of it seems real. But I do remember. I am aware. I will wear my mask and use my hand sanitizer and I won't touch my face. 
A quarter of a million Americans have now died from the virus. It is no time to grow lax. 

Be safe, y'all. Please. Live for the good days because surely there will be some for all of us. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Fuck Anxiety And The Black Dog It Rode In On

 Here's the front of my house, mostly hidden by the sabal palms I planted a long time ago but which are taking their sweet time to grow. Someday, in the distant future, they will be tall and their trunks will be skinny like this

and thus, they will not impede the view of my house but we'll probably be dead by then at which point, my husband will quit complaining about the trees being right there by the porch. He has every right to complain about the horrid, murderous Canary Island date palms I so foolishly planted by the front gate but I stand by my judgement in planting the sabals where I did. Our friend Tom gave them to me when they were tiny things and they are the state palm of Florida and I love them. I have two more planted in another spot that he gave me and one that was actually here when we moved in. I think. Who can remember back that far? As with everything in this yard, none of the palms get quite enough sun so they are and will be slow-growers but my hope and dream is that someday, someone will live here who will appreciate them in their maturity. 

Today has been one weird day. I woke up in a box of anxiety lined with maroon velvet and sharp rusty spikes, the likes of which I haven't experienced for awhile. I have absolutely no idea why. I pulled in on my soul and tried to let it pass but it showed no signs of doing anything but increasing so I took a damn ativan and spent the day moving slowly and chemically dissociating which wasn't exactly pleasant but wasn't horrible, either. The only walking I did was to the post office and back home, to the clothes line, to the hen house to find eggs, to the garden to pick some greens. I had all sorts of plans but I let them go by the wayside and instead did a small amount of ironing in case Mr. Moon ever needs to go out into the world again. That's a joke. He went out into the world today. While I was ironing I watched some of the newest incarnation of "The Boys in the Band" on Netflix and I am enjoying it. To be honest, I don't think I ever saw the original version and I don't understand how that happened. We did finish the last episode of "The Queen's Gambit" last night and I would watch it again in a heartbeat. It is so good on so many levels. The story, the script, the acting, the cinematography, the settings and sets, the costumes- all of it. Just superb. 
Even the ending was satisfying as hell. Absolutely. 

And I somehow managed to get this beauty ready to go into the oven. 

It's a chicken pot pie with all of the vegetables in it. The carrots, the potatoes, onions, celery, peas, green beans and so on. I have obviously given up the notion of eating all healthy and shit, at least on some nights. I mean- it's got good things in it but anyone who's ever made a pie crust knows that that amount of butter can not be good for us. 
But won't it be lovely? 
I'll make a salad to counteract the butter. That works, right? 
No. No it does not. 
But somehow I do not care. 

Let's see what tomorrow brings. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Slumber Party!

First let me apologize for not answering comments in a timely manner. I have a very strict routine about when I do certain things and answering comments is one of them and some days I just get way behind doing a project or prepping supper or whatever and that's what's been going on here lately. 

It's been the most beautiful day. Laundry on the line under a blue sky and the first part of the day we still had the Weatherfords here because they decided just to stay the night last night. The boys were exhausted, Mama and Daddy were exhausted and martinis were involved. And so we feasted on delicious leftovers and the boys got a bath and used their fingers as toothbrushes and Levon, used to some sort of natural child's toothpaste declared that my toothpaste tasted better than track hoes. 
"You better get that boy some Colgate," I told Jessie this morning. 

We read books before bed and then August demonstrated how his daddy taught him to do a rain massage which involves many different massaging techniques, on both Bop and Mer and it was the most delightful massage I've ever had. August slept on his fold-out bed beside Boppy's side of our bed and he talked and talked and talked until finally I just said, "Okay. Love you. Night night," and turned out the light and left the room at which point he fell asleep immediately. That child is absolutely full of words and he endlessly describes inventions that he is going to make. They very often feature rockets and cars and things bigger than cars (just a few feet bigger) and chargers and super chargers and, and, and...
I can't even begin to tell you but I will tell you that when he woke up this morning and jumped immediately in the bed with us he was already talking about some other invention. 
Levon slept in the pac'n'play in the room with his parents and I hear that he got up at his usual 5:30 a.m. and his daddy read books to him until August and Boppy and Jessie joined them and by the time I got up, there had been a great deal of snacking and TV watching and I don't even know what all. I told Jessie it reminded me of this wonderful scene from The Big Chill. 

You have to watch it until the very end to hit the joke. God, that was a great movie. 

But I got up to speed pretty quickly and before you know it, pancakes were ready and bacon and eggs and leftover biscuits and beauty berry jam and then Mr. Moon and Vergil continued with their project of getting the clutch on the tractor unstuck, which they did, and the boys got to drive the tractor, sitting on Boppy's lap and all was very well. Jessie did the boys' hair with some gel so that they looked like this.

August had sort of already smashed his down but he's still cool. 

It was quite a busy morning but at one point Jessie was cleaning up the toys in the Glen Den and watching an episode of "The Office" and I joined her and we watched together and both teared up at the end of it. 

"If I broke my ribs again, I'd watch the whole series again," I said.

"You don't have to break your ribs to do that," she said. 

"I sort of do," I said. "Or something. I'd have to break something and I'd rather not do that."

After they left Mr. Moon went to town to go do some car-related business and I stayed here and didn't do much. A little sweeping, unloading the dishwasher, getting in the laundry, weeding the newest rows in the garden. 

The way the weather feels and smells and the way the light slants and shines has been bringing back all sorts of nostalgic emotions. Not exactly memories, but more just the emotions associated with this time of year, most of them good. I'm grateful for that. A sweet, slow ride of feelings. 

I've got gumbo simmering and I'm afraid I've done something wrong. Somehow it tastes a little scorched as if I rushed the roux but I don't feel like I did. The problem is that I have never used just one recipe but have read a bunch of them and used them as a framework and of course every time I make it I go through the same process, meaning I never do it exactly the same. 

Well. It'll be fit to eat. 

Getting chilly. I do believe the duck will be on my side of the bed tonight. I just checked and it's 68 degrees in the house. Good Lord! Feels like an arctic wave to this old southern woman. 

I have to tell you that last night when the kids got here, the boys were drowsy and when Jessie got Levon out of the car I was standing there and she, cradling her baby said, "Look- here's Mermer."

And that boy reached his arms out to me and I took him and he cuddled down onto my old bosom and I felt like I'd been given the sweetest gift in the world. 

And I had. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Cats And Cooking And Who I Really Am

I have been lazy and slow as a sloth today but at least, unlike Maurice, I did get out of bed. That cat got on that towel-covered pillow last night around ten and did not move off of it until after three this afternoon. It's like she's decided that that is her spot, not Jack's, and there you go, boom, done.

Poor Jack. 
Well, sort of. 

Here's a funny thing. At least to me and please keep in mind that I am so easily entertained these days- last week I got two cat toys. Little soft stuffed balls with a bell and put them down in the hallway. Both cats have played with them but if you walk into the hall, they stare off into space and pretend they have no interest in the toys at all. I know they do because I can hear them jingle as Maurice and Jack bat them about. Not at the same time, of course. Please. Never. Just as they could never sleep on the bed at the same time. 

Here's a much better and more interesting picture. 

Jessie and Vergil took the boys down to the Ichetucknee River today. I think I spelled that right. It is a beautiful, beautiful river or so I have heard from many people. I myself have never paddled down it or tubed down it which is what it is most famous for. You rent a big comfy inner tube and just drift down the cold, spring-fed river and it's sort of a secret shame of mine that I've never done this. The tube rental people pick you up at the end of the ride and if that doesn't sound like heaven on a hot summer day, I don't know what is. But Jessie and Vergil took their kayaks. I bet you almost anything that Levon actually paddled. When Glen went over to their house a few days ago to shovel some compost onto their raised beds, the boys wanted to help, of course. August shoveled for about five minutes and then found something else to do but Levon, according to his grandfather, had to be told to take breaks. "He would have shoveled all day and all night!" said my husband. 
That kid. 

Anyway, the little family is going to stop by on their way home and eat supper with us. I think I'm going to heat up the black bean soup which was wonderful and make a salad. That'll be pleasing. I have some of last night's skillet Spanakopita left and maybe I'll share that around too. That stuff is so damn good. 

I think I posted a picture of the last one I made but this one is different because I actually had leeks and feta which I didn't have last time. I substituted shallots and goat cheese in that one and it was delicious but this one was even better. I seared a few scallops to go with it and Mr. Moon said that it was one of the best meals he ever ate. 

And that's about it. It's been a Sunday which means that I've been out of sorts and flat and thinking too much about things that I shouldn't think about such as the fact that I am sixty-six years old and there's so much more I thought I would have done by now, accomplished by now, become by now. 

Such as beautiful in an old wild-woman way wearing brightly colored bohemian garments made of silks and woven organic flax and inappropriately thick eyeliner and even thicker gold hoops instead of wearing stupid overalls almost every day of my life and no earrings and no eyeliner at all. I just feel faded and crepey and saggy and wrinkled and age-spotted and weary and stupid and pack-animalish. 

And mostly boring. 

Instead of Auntie Mame I'm Aunt Bee. 

If Aunt Bee wore overalls and drank martinis and swore with abandon. 

And let's face it- I've always been Aunt Bee. 

Sigh.

Love...Ms. Moon

Mermer Gets Visits And Is Happy

A mystical, magical, colorful crew visited me today along with their mama and we had such a nice visit. Since quarantining is still in force and with time on their hands, the boys have been having fun changing the hair on their heads. 

My darling boys. 

We sat out in the back yard. I had made banana bread and brought that out and filled my pretty pink pitcher with ice and water and brought out the fancy matching glasses and fancy cocktail napkins and we had a little tea party of sorts. 

Lily asked if she could have the pitcher and glasses when I died. This is an old joke but sort of not. I mean- I am going to die one of these days and it's gratifying to know that I have a few things that my kids want to hold on to. I said, "Of course! Or you can have them now, if you want." She said that she'd wait until the kids were older and weren't as apt to break them. Whichever is fine with me. They're not doing much good up there in the cabinet where they live. 

Magnolia got out her little animals and played as she always does on the back steps. 

While all of this was going on, a woman I knew as a child and her brother came by. This woman was a very good friend of May's, growing up, and they were partly raised in this house. They wore masks and we were outside so I invited them in and told them to feel free to wander about as they wanted. They demurred at first but I made it quite clear that I understand this need to revisit the past and that I did not mind at all. And so they did. It made me happy. I know that they have some wonderful memories of this house and living here and some that are not so wonderful. The brother hadn't been back to the house since they left when he was still quite young. They were so kind and grateful but they paid me back for any inconvenience (which there really wasn't any of) by taking the dozen eggs that I forced upon them. They told me that the house smells just the same. I loved that. 

So it was a busy afternoon and I was so happy to get to visit with my boys and my girls and by the time they had to leave, everyone had somehow managed to come into the house. Owen sat down at the center island and he got nostalgic. He spent a lot of time here as a little guy and so did Gibson. I told Owen that I'd been remembering how for lunch time I would sometimes pretend to be a waitress and give them a menu of the foods I had on offer and take their orders and make their lunches and serve them. 

"I remember that!" said Owen. I have no idea how much he truly remembers about those years but I know that there will always be a part of him that will feel at home here. 

After they left, I hung the picture that Maggie had brought me. 

It's a chicken and I think that's supposed to say Mer which is pretty cool. August isn't the only one learning his letters. And I believe that the dots to the right of the chicken are chicken food. While we were sitting outside, Owen started giving bits of banana bread to the flock which had gathered around. Some of them even jumped for their bites and he said, "What would we do without Mer's chickens?" which tickled me to pieces. He also put a plate with crumbs on it down on the ground and as the chickens pecked at it, the plate rang with clear notes and he said, "I have my own orchestra!" 

And so it was a very good day and my husband, who had gotten up at four-thirty this morning to go sit in the woods and watch the dawn came in, finally got home and took a nap in his chair and I did a crossword and went and collected eggs where I found this in the pump house nest. 

Since hens don't lay baseballs as far as I know, I suspect Ms. Magnolia June put it there because she checked for eggs at least twice. She reported that "The chickens are covering up the eggs!" and only found one which she wanted to take home and of course I let her. Lily joked that when her daddy had brought her eighteen eggs the other day she'd said, "Good! It's like you knew we were down to our last dozen!"

We got thirteen eggs in all today which is pretty good for having only fourteen laying hens. 

Bless all of their sweet, funny little dinosaur hearts. 

Bless your hearts too. 

Love...Ms. Moon