I Am Not Making This Up

All right, all right, all right. I did finally get that pocket put in. It is not the greatest but it will do. I am pretty happy about it and will be wearing that dress a lot more often now. So how many days and weeks and months and hours did that take me? 
Several thousand, I reckon. 

And then I pulled another dress out of the closet that I do like but almost never wear because it doesn't have pockets and I rectified that situation in about twenty minutes. The dress is one I got at the World Market a long time ago and it's similar to that beloved old hippie staple- the Mexican wedding dress. Or what we called Mexican wedding dresses. You know- embroidery around the neck and related areas. 

It's the softest dress ever but without a pocket, it was useless to me. Mostly. I started embroidering around the edge of the pocket I made out of a piece of old tablecloth, but I think I may abort that mission for now at least. It wouldn't match the embroidery the dress already has on it. I don't know. But I do have a pocket. It's not exactly a perfect match for the dress but oh- who cares? 

Not me. 

I have done almost nothing besides pockets today. I haven't done one darn thing outside except to take the trash and go by the post office. And I do feel guilty about that but more than feeling guilty, I feel as if I have cheated myself. Even though I spend a lot of time on my back porch, it's not the same as being outside outside. I haven't even so much as picked a pepper. Or a cherry tomato. Or even taken out the compost. Oh wait! I did walk the cardboard throw-aways out to the burn pile. That doesn't even count. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will do some things outside. I need that. Even when it's too hot and the mosquitoes are out (and hey! cases of Malaria have popped up around here!) I feel better about myself and the world in general if I've spent some time out of doors. 

I have added a few more things to my get-rid-of-pile. I also took two items to the dump that needed badly to go there but that I've been hanging onto for some stupid reason. One was a sort of stained glass panel that was obviously someone's first attempt at that art and I'm fairly sure it was being self-taught. The other was a Thomas the Tank engine folding lawn chair for children that none of my grandchildren have sat in in forever and which has been folded up and leaning on the porch wall and was mildewed and useless. 

I threw that one in the household goods bin and I left the faux stained glass leaned up next to the compactor in case anyone wanted it. I doubt anyone will but you never know. The guy who is in charge of the dump today was sitting in a rocking chair that I'm sure someone left and that he saved. There's a tiny little shed that the workers can sit in that has air conditioning which I am sure is a life saver. There's also a TV in there which I'm certain was another save. The AC might have been too. I waved to the man in the rocking chair and he gave me a horizontal peace sign. I felt like Snoop Dogg's great aunt or something. Which pleased me. 

I remember when I was married to my first husband and we lived for a few years in a ten-by-fifty foot trailer on a piece of land we'd bought a few miles down the road from here, basically in the woods. We were going to try and build our own house but, well. Mmmm.

That didn't happen. 
We did eventually buy an old house in Monticello and had it moved to the property and the ex and another friend of ours who was an actual carpenter, fixed that house up pretty nice and I loved it so much but that's not what I meant to discuss. 
No. What I meant to discuss was how fucking hot it was in that trailer. It was horrible. It was hell. It was one tiny sliver away from unbearable. And so, one day we went to Tallahassee where we bought a used window unit air conditioner, installed that bad boy in the window of our bedroom which was basically a tin sweat box with one window in it, and oh my god- it was the best thing ever. 
We laid there that night on our bed with the Indian print bedspread tacked on the wall and we were chilly. 
And you know what? We felt guilty. We thought about all of our friends who were sweating in their beds in the shed/shacks with latrines that they'd BUILT themselves and here we were, luxuriating in artificially cooled air in our red shag carpeted trailer with running water and a bathroom. I mean, we were breaking all sorts of back-to-the-land hippie codes. I probably even had some canned beans in the kitchen cabinet. 

And that trailer was luxurious to us. We'd moved in there after living in the house we rented for $75 dollars A YEAR that had holes in the walls and floors and no running water and an oven that sort of exploded if you tried to use it, with doors made out of planks. It looked not unlike this house. 

We froze our asses off in the winter and sweated through the summers. Baby Hank used to play in the canning kettle I'd pump water into in order to let him cool off on the hottest days. 

And yet, I sort of loved that house and as I always say, I am grateful for my experience of living in it. In its own very basic way, it was beautiful. 

Ironically, it burned down years later when a couple who lived in it installed an air conditioner in their bedroom window. The wiring in the house was beyond funky and as the story goes, the guy of the couple was a drug dealer and the fire took hold so quickly that they were lucky to get out with their lives but all of their drug dealing cash went up in flames. 

So living in that trailer was like living in the Palace of Versailles for us. And Lord, did we appreciate that chugging, noisy air conditioner. 

Well I had no idea that was what I was going to talk about today which is how it usually goes here. Mr. Moon is back on land and we have not lost our electricity unlike last week. It did rain for a hot minute which made things so steamy that when I walk out the door my glasses steam up to the point where I am blinded but as with the pockets- oh, who cares? 

Here's another picture of the ginger I started from a grocery store root along with my mango that I started from a Roseland mango seed that came from a tree that I ate the fruit from as a child. 

Ginger on the left, mango on the right. 

And here are some more zinnias. 

Thanks for coming along on this trip down memory lane. All stories are true and there has been no need for any sort of poetic license except that maybe it did not take me exactly several thousand days, weeks, months and hours to make that pocket. 
But close. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Blah, Blah, Blah, And Other Stuff!

Oh, how I do love our blogging community! Yesterday when I posted about the owl who was making a call that sounded almost as if it was being breathed in, instead of being breathed out, dear Jennifer at Sparrow Tree Journal, suggested that I do an online search for the call of the juvenile barred owl because they had one in their yard that was making what might be the same call. 
And so I did and she was right! 

It is the sound of a baby owl who wants mama or daddy to bring her food or come keep her company in a scary situation. And that is what is going on in my back yard. 

It's been a long day. I have finally copped to the fact that we are leaving for North Carolina in five days. FIVE DAYS! Mark, my darling almost-son and excellent house-sitter will be here for four of the eight days we'll be gone, Hank and Rachel will be here on two weekend days and for the other days I may ask a neighbor to come in and feed Maurice and Jack or, I may just leave them a ton of food and water. It would only be two nights. We are so invested in the mental health and happiness of our animals that the thought of my cats roaming the house and searching the yard for us is just awful but they wouldn't die. They might get extremely enraged at us for leaving them alone and poop and pee all over the house. That I could definitely see. I'll probably ask a neighbor. But I better get on it. 
When I washed our sheets today I washed the ones on the guest room bed too, and that's as far as I've gone in that direction except to stock up on toilet paper. And cat food. I have not begun to pack but today I reassured myself thinking that if all I took was some underwear, a bathing suit, two dresses, and two pairs of overalls and shirts to go with them, that would be enough. The house where we'll be staying has not only a washer and dryer but a dang crick out back that I could beat my clothes on the rocks in if I had to. 

It's all the other stuff, really, that gets a little weird. Do I take games for the children? Do I take books for them? I know I'll be taking my best knives and probably things like balsamic vinegar and olive oil, and self-rising flour for dumplings. I will be going to a grocery store. Probably far more than once. One never knows what supplies will be in these rental houses. There will be cookware but is it going to be the nasty kind with nonstick surfaces that are chipping off? Will there be parchment paper, aluminum foil, and all of those other things that we take for granted in our own kitchen? 

Whatever. The store will have everything. I do love a good Ingles which is the grocery store most prevalent in NC although Publix is there now too. 

We won't starve. 

But I might should take an iron skillet or two. 

So I was in a bit of a whirlwind this morning, mostly in my mind, about what I needed to do before we leave and getting the laundry done and so forth when Mr. Moon asked me if I'd like to go somewhere to eat lunch with him for a little date. He is fishing again tomorrow and just left a little while ago and I think he might have been feeling a tiny bit guilty, although I hope not. At first I felt like I was too bitchy and emotional today to ensure a good time if we did go off together but then I said, "Oh, let's go," and we did. We went to Monticello and had chicken salad salads and then we went to Wag The Dog and I think I did very well there today when it comes to locating treasures. 

I like to take pictures on that kitchen counter because it's black and the lighting isn't bad. Sorry about the coffee makers and food processor. That lamp cost me ten dollars. I do not like the shade but will find another eventually and I think the lamp itself is very sweet. The four martini glasses are nice and heavy and as Mr. Moon said, "Big!" and I said, "Well, that would be one reason not to buy them," but I couldn't pass them up. The little white bowl and its lid are also very heavy and I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them. Perhaps I should use them for Mr. Moon's turbinado sugar that he loves in his coffee. We've been using an old Tupperware container which works quite well but the old, white bowl would be more esthetically pleasing. And then we have the two old medicine bottles that will make lovely bud vases for $1.50 apiece. The bowl was a buck. 

God, I love Wag. 

So I felt as if the shopping gods had shined upon me and we even went into an antique store and although they had some very lovely and unique pieces, I was content with what I already had in the trunk of the car. 

In fact, I have a sudden and very real urge to start purging. I look around and I see clutter everywhere and I am OVER it! I know, I KNOW! I say that after I just bought more shit that I don't need. But I have already put some things in a box that I will probably be taking to Wag the Dog for them to resell. Their money goes to the animal shelter in Monticello which isn't the worst thing a thrift store could support. Not the best, but not the worst.

This will be an ongoing project. 

I never did get back to work on my pockets except to get the pocket I do not like unsewn from the dress and to pick out a piece of fabric that I already had to make another. I am thinking I will just make one pocket in the dress as I don't have much of that material and if it's a good pocket, I'll only need the one. Two pockets are better than one but one will do. That I will work on tomorrow. I am going to go slowly and carefully, and I am going to baste. 

I got a text from Jessie today wherein she reported a conversation that August had with one of his cousins. 
Cousin: "After I've cleaned up, can we get in your bed and draw?"

August: "Anything for my true love." 

Oh my god. Does that not sound like something Alfalfa would have said to Darla in the Little Rascals? 

I showed the message to Mr. Moon and we agreed that August will eventually figure out that it's best not to fall in love with a first cousin but he's young and at this point, Levon still doesn't understand why he can't marry his mother. 

Oh, the sweet innocence of a child's love. It's just so precious. 

And if I were in a different mood, I might go off on a rant about how the sexual abusers of children destroy that innocence along with their trust in others and in themselves which will affect them for the rest of their lives but I'm not there tonight. I do not have the energy. I have been emotional today. Not horribly so, but enough that thinking about yesterday when I took Magnolia home and both Gibson and Owen came to the kitchen and hugged me up and Gibson said, "You're strong, Mer!" and I said, "You're strong, Gibson!" and Owen is taller than me and so kind to me and they both hug me without being asked, but initiate it themselves that yes, it made me cry. 

Oh well. I am just a weepy woman and that's all there is to it. Before Maggie left yesterday she was playing with Lincoln Logs, creating her own universe as she does, and I told her that it makes me so happy to see her playing with them and that I have toys here that I am going to need to pass on to someone else because all of my grandchildren are getting too old to play with them. Not the Lincoln Logs, but other things. Things that I can remember baby Owen playing with. I teared up then and Maggie said, "It's okay, Mer. I'm still young. I can play with those things." 

All right! Time to quit being so soppy and make myself a martini. I am saving the new glasses for when Mr. Moon is home but the old glasses do very well. One of the main things I need to figure out before we leave is- what book am I going to read out loud on our journey? 
I have to tell you that even though I am having anxiety about leaving and being away from home, I am also a little thrilled at the prospect of a road trip with my sweetheart. He made our reservation for our first night on the road in Athens, Georgia at the Graduate Hotel where we have stayed many times. I'm sure he'd love to try a new place but as I told him, just walking into that lobby makes me feel like I'm home. Books and old typewriters everywhere. I can get my yearly supply of a small but adequate tube of Malin+Goetz vitamin b5 body moisture from their proffered toiletries. The same branded body wash, shampoo, and conditioner are pumped from containers in the shower and this may be the standard way to do things in hotels these days, but to this old country gal who don't get out much, these things are almost magical.

Here's a decorating feature in the Graduate's lobby. 

A card catalog! With orchids. Real orchids. 

Need I say more? 

I think not. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Patience And Owls And A Darling Girl

 Ralph the Roomba was doing a bang-up job of vacuuming the entire house yesterday. That thing vacuumed for hours and then he'd take himself to his charger, rest there for awhile, and then start back up again! Just like he's supposed to do but does not always, in fact, do. I have no idea why this is. I just help him when he gets stuck or when something inappropriate gets caught in his bin like the little silver fork I found there once. But Maggie decided that Ralph would be perfect for giving Ratty the thrilling experience of taking a ride on a robot down the hallway. As you can see, Ratty was very thrilled indeed! And Ralph did not care at all. 

We had a great time with our girl grand. She got sleepy before supper but she managed to stay awake for her fish and corn and cucumbers and CHEESY NOODLES! She ate everything. And then, of course, she had a purple cow. 

She wanted a bath and so Boppy got the water in the big old clawfoot going and then he cleaned up the kitchen while I cleaned up the child. She loves that bathtub. It's so big she can go underwater and open her eyes which she demonstrated to me. Then she actually wanted her hair washed so I did that and she loves the shower attachment on the faucet to rinse with. At that point she realized that she had not played yet with the ducks and octopuses and other plastic water creatures that live beside the tub so she did that for a few minutes but then she told me she was very tired and so out of the tub she came, got dried off and put on her pajamas, got cozy in bed, and I read her a story from a princess book that she brought for that purpose. We also FaceTimed her mama and her brothers which gave her a lot of happiness. She didn't need to see them, she just wanted to. 

And oh yes- she was in my bed. She'll probably still be sleeping with me when she's fourteen. 

She fell asleep and after I got my shower and read for awhile beside her, I turned out the light and we both slept just fine except for waking up once in the night when we both had to pee and I have to admit that I was cranky and I apologized to her this morning about that. For one moment I felt like I had been inhabited by my mother as I was saying something like, "No. I am not going to turn on the light!" Or perhaps it was, "No, I am not going to go get a soft blanket." Or, possibly, "No, I do not wash my hands after I pee in the night." 
Something about the way I was holding my body and the way the words were coming out of my mouth, directed at that sweet baby, made me feel a little possessed and a great deal ashamed. 
When I apologized this morning she said, "That's all right."

Bless her. 

And then she slept until almost ten this morning! We both woke up about 7:30 and we both went back to sleep. I had some most interesting dreams in which almost-flying AND Keith Richards AND the ocean were involved, and got up at 8:30 but she continued to slumber like a curly haired little princess who was under a spell. She WAS tired. 

So we had pancakes and bacon and eggs. And then she wanted to play cards and Boppy joined us as we sat at the table on the porch and played two rousing games of Go Fish. 

I must have taken this picture at a contemplative moment because there really was a great deal of excitement and laughing involved. 

When it was getting time to go, she helped me make our bed and I asked her if she thought the dolls would like to come out and sit on the bed today to get some sun. She said that yes, she thought they would. Zippy joined them. 

We greeted each doll by name and with kisses and Maggie arranged them to her liking. Instead of calling Dorothy Anne creepy the way everyone else does, she just looked at her wonky face and said, "What happened here?" I explained that Dorothy Anne is very, very old- older than ME! and she accepted that with aplomb. I love that picture because when I took it, Maggie was telling me about how Emily had gotten up in the middle of the night and got in bed with her and that she had told Emily that she must go back to her own bed. 

"Really?" I said. "I didn't know that Emily could even walk!" 
"Oh yes," she said. 
And who am I to doubt? There is something just so incredibly precious about being allowed back into that child world of wonder occasionally. A gift. I do not take it for granted. 

I took her home on my way to town to shop and there was so much fun going on there that I almost did not want to leave. Chloe and Pepper, the two black doggies, were putting on a show for me (or at least that's what Lauren, their mommy, said) prancing about and leaping in the kitchen together. A friend of theirs was over with her daughter and the boys gave me hugs and overall, it was just a very jolly situation. 

But I knew I had to get my shopping done and so I left but got stuck behind a Waste Management garbage truck. The road that Lily and Lauren and the kids live on is quite skinny and there are parts that are impossible to pass a large truck on. But I was listening to my latest audio download and did not mind at all. 
Here's what I'm listening to. 

It is a luscious book, a gorgeous book. I read Verghese's Cutting Stone 

years ago and it too, was one of those books that remind you of what fiction can and should be. 

So. Having to wait behind a garbage truck was not a problem for me. 

Publix and Costco went fine. I got to see the Beautiful Brenda who told me about her most recent trip to the coast and showed me the tan line her watch had made. It was a funny day of shopping in that although neither Publix nor Costco seemed unusually crowded, the aisles in both stores kept getting jammed up, usually by people who were standing and staring at the the choices, unaware that someone was waiting for them to allow passage. I can't criticize this behavior. I do it myself all the time. But it happened over and over again. 

One guy in Costco and I finally laughed when it happened in our vicinity twice. And everyone was patient about it, waiting silently until the person blocking the aisle had made their choice and moved on. 

We've just had a very nice and delicious rain and it is cooler and smells of a fine funk, made up of dirt and leaves and the letting go of heat demons. We needed it. We've had an owl in our backyard the past week or so and it is calling now. I know it's an owl because I've seen it and so has Mr. Moon. I am not sure what sort of owl it is. It doesn't call like our regular Barred Owls do but makes a whistle that almost sounds as if it is being breathed in rather than breathed out. I just listened to a bunch of different owl calls and none of them matched what I'm hearing and my glimpses of it have been in coming-darkness. It is big. Now that I do not have chickens to worry about, I can enjoy the presence of owls and hawks whereas before I mostly saw them as threats to my darlings. 
I guess that's one good thing about not having chickens, right?

And so it goes. Another full day and I am tired. The rain has stopped and although it is cooler, it is also sticky with humidity. Literally- my skin feels sticky. It's all right. Good for the trees and the tomatoes and the field peas and my old sun-spotted, wrinkled skin as well. 

Maybe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Maggie World!

This was last night's salad and yes, I am posting it because I think it's so pretty and I'm being a little braggy. That shredded stuff in the middle is crab, leftover from a few night's ago and there are cucumbers in it, cherry and regular tomatoes, green beans, black olives, and, uh- well, the avocados and eggs. I always think I can throw a salad together in minutes but 

A. You don't THROW a salad together although you may of course toss it when it's done, and 
B. It takes a while to get the crab meat out of the crab legs and then another while to cut up all your vegetables, and
C. Then you have to make the dressing. If you make your dressing. 

So yeah, it never takes minutes. Or, rather, it takes quite a few minutes.

Look who's having a sleepover with us tonight. 

Why, it's Ms. Magnolia June! Here she is playing with Linda Sue's sewing shop miniatures along with some rabbits and bears that I got at a thrift store a long time ago who also have accessories. As Magnolia said. 

She is as happy as she can be. 

When I picked her up she was all ready and was wearing lipstick and eyeshadow. Lauren, who was at the house and in charge, said, "Maggie! You put on make-up?" 
"Of course she did," I said. "She is going out." 

On the ride home she informed me with solemn gravity that she had not eaten lunch. I am pretty sure this is not true but whatever. I told her she could definitely have a snack when we got to my house. Would she like a peanut butter sandwich? A chicken sandwich?
"No," she said. "I don't like sandwiches. Do you have eggs? I would like scrambled eggs."
So I made her some scrambled eggs. That girl has been requesting scrambled eggs from me since she was a tiny girl. She was so happy. Scrambled eggs and strawberries.

She ate on our new table. She was amazed when I showed her how it worked. I had told her about it in the car and she asked if Boppy had taken the "prickly things" off the tree before me made the table out of it. 
"You mean splinters?" I asked. 
"Yes."

"It has no splinters," I reassured her. It is as smooth as glass. He sanded the wood. Do you know what sandpaper is?"
She did not. I tried to explain sandpaper to her using a nail file that I keep in the car. After a minute she said, "I'm going to pretend I understood that."

She cracks me up so much. 
Lily told me that earlier, she had gotten a call at work from Lauren who said, "Maggie wants to ask you a question." She put Maggie on the phone.

"Yes?" asked Lily. 
"Could you please ask your mother if she will make me fish tonight?"

So Lily asked her mother if I would make Maggie fish tonight which of course I will along with the de rigueur cheesy noodles and sliced cucumbers. 

We have still not yet decided whether or not she will sleep with me in Mr. Moon's and my bed or alone in the guest room. 
Guess which one I'm betting on? 
I think Mr. Moon enjoys an opportunity to have the entire guest room  bed to himself, to tell you the truth. 
I did point out to Maggie that she is seven years old now. She pointed out to me that yes, she is, but that she gets scared and she's worried that Maurice might come into that room in the night and as we all know, that is a valid reason to be scared even though Maurice never sleeps on that bed. 

Oh well. If she can put up with my snoring, she can sleep with me. 

I worked some on my dress pockets today and all I can say about that is- I suck at pockets. My problem was that the pocket pattern I made, based on superior pockets in another dress, just did not work right. Too shallow, too long of an opening. 
Sigh. 

So I am back to ripping out and when will I learn that basting is my friend? I would save myself so much time by basting things before I really stitch them. Also, to be honest, I am hating the fabric I bought to make the pockets with. Which is silly. That fabric won't even really show. 

So that's the pocket story for today. 
To be continued, of course. I am DETERMINED to get pockets in this dress. 

And I guess that's about it from Lloyd today. And I need to go make cheesy noodles and all that other stuff. 

Oh! Wait! There is this.

That pretty gray oak snake was crossing the road on my way to get Maggie. Isn't that a lovely design?

Well, Maggie asked her Boppy for a ride on the four-wheeler and now this is happening. 

Oh, that girl. Her wish is our command. As it should be. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Warning: A Photo Of A Spider Also, Some Rather Crude Language

Well, it is indeed summer and thus, the time of year I find myself bouncing off the strong and sturdy webs of the Golden Orb Weavers when I water the porch plants. Here's a lovely lady who has taken up residence on the east end of the porch. I always wonder if the spiders choose their spots according to where their mothers lived and laid her eggs. Their birth places. There are favored areas that get webs built in them every year. I wonder how many baby spiders survive hatching? I should learn more about these talented and interesting beings I share my summers with. 

So. It's the Fourth of July. Okay. You know how I am about patriotism. I find it rather bizarre to celebrate the fact of my Americanism. Hell. I was born here. I had nothing to do with that fact. Which yes, makes me very lucky in many ways but as I always say- going to Europe when I was eighteen killed any notions that I may have had that America is the best country in the world. Or greatest. 
We do have excellent plumbing for the most part. That I will absolutely admit. 

We have a neighbor whom I would not be able to pick out of a line-up of two, who loves to shoot guns and celebrates the 4th with plenty of fireworks. He got serious about the fireworks last night. It went on for over an hour. I wonder if he shot his wad. Probably not. At one point last night I told my husband that I wished the neighbor had a dick. I feel he must be lacking in that area. This, of course, is sheer assumption on my part. Perhaps he is just truly patriotic. 

Today's been a little bumpy for me. No reason. Everything's the same as it always is. In fact, I got a beautiful surprise this morning when I stepped out of the kitchen to take the compost. 

I actually shrieked a little and then set the compost down and went over to congratulate and praise the small bush and take that picture. Oh, gardenias! They are so, so perfect. 

When we lived in Winter Haven, when I was in high school, we had a huge gardenia bush in the yard that bloomed so prolifically. Every day I would pick one blossom and take it to school with me and give it to a friend of mine. I loved this boy tremendously, although not in a boyfriend way. And yet, somehow, it was incredibly romantic. And every day, he would carry that gardenia around with him so carefully that at the end of the day, it would be as white and perfect as it had been when I gave it to him. And gardenias are the most delicate of blooms. When he signed my yearbook, he said, "Thanks for all the gardenias." 

I still love that boy in the sweetest and most innocent way and I hope with all of my heart he is alive and very well. We are not in touch. I wish we were. His name is so common that I think it would be very hard to find him. I'm not even sure where he lives. 

That was a tangent, wasn't it? 

Y'all, it is so hot. I know I keep saying that. But it is. The only thing I did outside today was to hang laundry, bring it in, and pick green beans and tomatoes. By the time I got back in the house, I was fairly drenched with sweat. And picking beans and tomatoes is hardly a strenuous activity. Nor is hanging laundry. It doesn't matter. All you have to do is go outside and the sweat will begin to roll off your body. And it's like trying to breathe through a wad of wet cotton. It's ridiculous. As Lauren Hough said about the summers in Texas (or was it DC?) in her fine book of essays that I listened to recently, it's like opening a dishwasher in mid-cycle and crawling in and shutting the door. 
HOW DID PEOPLE STAND THIS BEFORE AIR CONDITIONING? 

And I have the option to just stay inside if I want. The people who lived in this house when it was built had no choice. They had to be outside, growing their food for the winter, hauling water from a hand-pump over a well, I guess, dealing with the animals they had to have had for meat and for transportation. I'm sure the women did the laundry outside. They probably made soap too, stirring ashes and lye and bacon grease or whatever in a big old pot over an open fire. And god knows what all else. No showers, no indoor toilet. No fans or probably even screens in the windows.

I would die in a week. 

I pressure canned the last of the green beans that I'm going to preserve this summer. Only had five pints in the canner and I guess I did not get the lid screwed on properly for one of them because this happened.

Not a big deal. We'll just eat that jar this week. I'm not sure I'll ever water bath can again. It takes a lot less time to use the pressure canner. And less water. You only put three quarts of water in the pressure canner whereas you have to cover the jars completely in the water bath canner. AND you don't have to sterilize your jars before you fill them with the pressure canner which is a whole process in itself. You just wash them, fill them with hot water and leave them to sit until it's time to fill them. I will be more careful with my lids from here on out, though.

I did other stuff today but none of it worth talking about. Just...stuff. And all day I've felt purposeless and flat. And a little teary. Normal for me and for most of us, I'm sure. Mr. Moon cleaned a whole bunch of fish (they had another good day yesterday) and then he went to a mullet-fry at a friend's of his. I was invited too but of course I didn't go. Before he left he asked if I was sure that it was okay for him to go and I laughed and said, "Of course! I'm the one with social anxiety. Not you." And he brought me home a lovely piece of fried mullet that was caught last night. 

We will certainly not die from lack of eating fish this summer. That I can tell you. 

I just listened to this. Ibrahim Ferrer is the vocalist and the song is Dos Gardenias written by Isolina Carrilo in the 1930's. 

I feel better now. The Buena Vista Social Club is one of my favorite albums of all time. We used to listen to it on Dog Island, usually after sunset while I was making our supper and so very often, Glen would put his arms around me and steer me away from the stove to dance with me to a song. What a gorgeous, smokey, magical piece of art Ry Cooder midwifed. It is more than a record album. It is an enchantment that carries me to a distant time and a distant place where it is as hot as it is here and where gardenias bloom beside a Caribbean blue sea and beautiful women sip dark rum and always have gardenias in their hair. Their eyes say everything and their message is understood. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Pretty Pictures Of Pretty Babies

 Lord only knows how many times I've posted this picture of Magnolia June but every time it comes up in my memories, you can bet I'm going to post it again. It may be the best picture of any of my grandchildren I've ever taken. I made Maggie that dress and she was helping me pick the vegetables and grabbed those three squash to her chest and somehow it all came together. The colors of the squash and the dress, the green grass behind her, those beautiful eyes and lips. Those curls. 
She was an artist's vision of a cherub, without a doubt and I love the determined way she is holding the squash. She is doing work! She is helping! 

And since I'm posting memories, here's a picture of Baby Maggie that I have been meaning to post for awhile. 

She has always been a glory, that one. 

My across the street neighbor texted me this picture from the Tallahassee Democrat (the local paper) this morning. 

I had already gone through the paper and yet, somehow missed that. Look at that precious little boy. Three years old. Four years ago! He has always loved a good story, that one. 

I am waiting to hear from the fisherman that he is safely back on land. I swear- I do not know how he managed to get up at four this morning to go back out on the water. He sent me this about the time I got up but I know he took it much earlier. 

I hope they had another good day. We surely had a wonderful dinner last night. I fried some of that mahi and made a Thanksgiving-worthy green bean casserole out of our fresh green beans. Mr. Moon had asked for it, and I so I made it. It was delicious and the fish was beyond excellent. 

This morning I called my compounding pharmacy to see if there was any progress being made in getting my hormones to me. They were ready to go, but they still hadn't gotten an order back from my doctor. They said they'd resend everything and that it might help if I called them. So I did. I swear- the woman who answered the phone was fairly clueless but I will say that she figured it all out and had a nurse send over my refill order. I am so grateful. But first she told me that the doctor was out of town until Wednesday AND that they were having problems with their internet but that the internet guy was coming RIGHT THEN to fix the problem and it wasn't half an hour before I got a text from my pharmacy that my hormones were ready to pick up. 
Saved from lunacy and divorce! 

So my day's plan changed. I had thought I'd can the last of the green beans I am going to deal with, preservation-wise, but instead I drove to town to get those troches. "Troches" are the form in which I take my hormones. They are sort of like a gummy, at least in texture. You hold one between your cheek and gum and let it dissolve. It tastes...eh. Like not much. 

And since I was going to town I put on a dress that I love so much but that has no pockets so I rarely wear it. I decided to go to Joanne Fabric and get some material to make pockets for it although why I think I can do this is beyond me. But it's so simple! They're going to have to be inseam pockets because the fabric is a close match but not an exact one. Shopping for fabric is fine and sometimes even fun and I don't mind it. I found something close enough and there was only one lady cutting material and a line of people waiting. I needed all of half a yard. Probably not even that much but I'm allowing for fuck-ups. So I stood in line and waited while the one lady cut what the people in front of me needed. The woman who was right before me in line had her daughter and her granddaughter with her. She was fairly old, the woman. She was leaning on her cart and I could tell that she needed that support. She got her cloth measured out and tagged and then it was my turn and when I went up to pay, there was only one cashier and again- a line. The same three women were in front of me and when it came time (finally) for them to pay, the grandmother was having a bit of a difficult time with her debit card and was also trying to use a Joanne gift card that appeared to have no money on it although she swore she had not used it. 
Anyway, it took some time and the granddaughter turned to me and rolled her eyes but not in a mean way but more of a I'm sorry this is taking so long, way and I said, very sotto voce, "It's all right. We will all be there eventually. I'm already speeding down that road myself."

The young woman nodded. 

For whatever reason I think I may remember that brief exchange for a long time. 

Somewhere in that errand-running, I stopped for a sandwich and by the time I got home it was too late to fire up the pressure canner so I have put that off until tomorrow. Instead, I finished up the black dress and I would be ashamed for anyone to actually look at my handiwork but I'll be able to wear it and that's what matters. And then, since the iron was out, I moved that operation to the Glen Den and watched a little bit of one of my horrible reality shows while I smoothed out the wrinkles in some garments. A few hours ago the sky got a little darker and there were some rumbles of distant thunder and suddenly, the power went out. In a few seconds, our generator kicked on which is why I was able to iron and watch TV, run the dishwasher and a fan, all in air conditioned comfort. 
Although, just as I have written that, the generator appears to be making a rather loud sound and by that, I mean much louder than usual. Of course this makes me anxious and the fact that I have not yet heard from my husband makes me even more anxious.

Well, the generator has resumed normal decibels but Glen is not answering his phone. I worry so and he always says, "Why were you worried? I was fine!" which is just such useless nonsense. Of course I know he's fine when he's TALKING TO ME! 

Ay. I'm sure he's fine. Of course he's fine. 

One last picture. This is one that Jessie sent of Levon from yesterday. He was a tired boy. Her friend Dana took the picture and she is a very fine photographer. She did the wedding pictures for Jessie and Vergil and they are perfect. 

Look at that sweet boy. How I miss him and his brother. Jessie also texted me that August said yesterday that his favorite food is my chicken and dumplings. I can't wait to make him all he wants. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. And just like that- within seconds the power came back on, the generator went off, and I got a text from the man that they are safely on land again. 

Phew. 

Sunday Pissy Blues

Can you see how tired those guys are? They went thirty-eight miles offshore yesterday and they did indeed catch fish. By the time Mr. Moon got home after dropping Owen off at his dad's, he was completely wiped out and I'm sure that Owen was too. Glen reports that Owen was so polite, so helpful, and such good company. They were able to get in the water a few times and I'm sure that helped as I know it was literally blistering hot out there on the Gulf. 

The first thing Mr. Moon did this morning after he had his coffee was to take the dishwasher out and get rid of the dead rat. He scrubbed the area down with Fabuloso, put the dishwasher back in its place, and my kitchen now holds no odor whatsoever of rodent death. Such a good man! 

Then I got in the kitchen and made him a swell Sunday brunch with everything from bacon and eggs and biscuits to air-fried potatoes with onions and peppers to homemade fig preserves. And sliced garden tomatoes. In fact, the potatoes and peppers came from our garden too. Not the cat piss potatoes, I hasten to assure you. 

I have been plain pissy today. I remembered how much I like that word when I was watching a TicTok by this woman whose name I do not remember who is of a certain age and very southern and she was talking about having hot flashes and how horribly uncomfortable they are. 
"And they piss me off!" she said. "And I'm already a pissy person." 
I'm having a similar problem in that my GD doctor who prescribes my hormones (NOT my beloved Dr. Z) has not responded to my compounding pharmacy's request for a refill for me and I have been taking half my usual dosage in order not to run out completely and guess what? 
Not only am I pissy but I am also having hot flashes and am generally emotional and cry at the drop of a hat. 
"You don't love me!" I feel like wailing at my poor husband. 
Jesus god but come on. After conceiving and carrying four babies to term and then delivering them and keeping them alive with my tender loving care and milk made from my very own body and going through PMS for decades and decades and having periods, and then peri-menopause and then menopause itself and- well, y'all know what I'm talking about (except for those of you who only know about it all theoretically and LUCKY YOU!) I am not up for going through all of this hormonally related bullshit again. 
I am just not. 
But you do what you have to do and today I had to cry a lot. I did not accuse my husband of not loving me anymore but I definitely traced an outline of that message to deliver to him and bless him, he just took it all in and apologized for whatever he's done that has made me feel this way (not much) and told me he loves me. 
Which is about the best way to handle these things. 

I was not about to go work outside and I didn't. I went back to fuss with my dress and when I finally got it to the point I could try it on, it somehow still felt snug and yet- gapped in certain places. 

I'm thinking I'm just going to cut out what I've done and sew a piece of wide black elastic in there. Either that or throw the damn thing in the garbage. It wouldn't even make good rags. 
I'll probably fool with it some more tomorrow. What else do I have to do? Can green beans? Oh yeah. I sure do need to do that. 

In more cheerful news- 

My sea grape! The very, very last of all of the seeds to pop up was the only one not to die and in fact, to thrive. 
So far. 

Knock wood. 
You have no idea how much I love that little tropical plant that came from a beach on the Atlantic near where I used to swim in my childhood. 

We are going to eat some mahi-mahi tonight for our supper and a little while ago we were reminiscing about a supper we'd had long ago that I'd cooked in a little kitchenette in a Key West motel room where we were staying. Glen had caught a beautiful mahi and I cooked it and we had that with limes and bread from a bakery and key lime pie that Mr. Moon fetched from the restaurant next door. We always hold that meal as one of the very best we have ever eaten. And it was, too. When we were talking about it today, I said, "I think I fried that fish but I'm not sure." 

"You don't remember?" he asked me.

"Honey, it's been almost forty years," I said. 
It's been thirty-eight, to be exact. Lily wasn't even one yet. In fact, she started really walking on that trip in a restaurant where we ate a different dinner. 
We laughed. The memory of that meal is so clear and so real and yet, I cannot remember how I cooked the fish. I do think I fried it. 

My mother was with us on that adventure and we really did have a good time with her. Every evening we would walk down to a certain bar, Lily in her stroller, and have pina coladas, even my mother! And she was adamantly and vehemently opposed to alcohol. But she loved those pina coladas and she would get so cheerful and funny and loving after she had one. And every evening she would ask, "Are we going to go get pina coladas?"

Maybe if she'd just had a few more later on in her life we could have gotten along better. Who knows?

Not me. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Alone But Not Lonely

Last night when the menfolk were getting all packed up for today's fishing, and making their sandwiches and planning their early breakfast, talking about getting up at 4 a.m., I said, "Y'all will be out on the water before I'm even up." 
I was correct. 
When I got up, I found that picture in my texts. 

My fishing boys! 

We had such a good time with Owen. Last night while I was in the kitchen getting the pizzas ready to go in the oven, he came in and talked to me and we discussed so many things. One of the subjects we covered is that probably, one of the best things a parent or grandparent can leave a child these days is land. Land to grow things on and land to live on. This may or may not be true but it seems to me that land will become more and more precious as the years go by, especially land with decent soil and a water source. I think about the back-to-the-land movement we hippies got so interested in and I still think it was a good idea. A whole lot of people I knew built their own houses (like Debbie and Tim are doing now!) and learned how to grow gardens and often times live without electricity or even plumbing although we got over that one pretty quick. We wanted to relearn what our grandparents had known, and our great-grandparents too. And we sorta did. It was a good experience for kids raised in the fifties where "modern" was the way to go and mashed potatoes came in bags of flakes, and bread was white and soulless, and bathrooms had soaps and towels that you weren't allowed to use because they were for guests only. Many of us had our babies at home and learned midwifery skills because the AMA had criminalized that particular ancient body of knowledge and art, and we nursed those babies with our own breasts. All of us women who had been born to mothers who were on powerful drugs when they had us and who were told that formula was the way to go- so convenient, so MODERN! 

You can say what you will about hippies but we changed a lot of things including what people now know as a healthier diet, the way mothers and babies are treated in hospitals now, the resurgence of midwifery training and certification, the acceptance of people who don't look like us or act like us, and a whole lot more. 

Of course we have a long way to go in all of those areas. 

Anyway, so Owen and I were talking about land and growing things and how different high school will be from middle school and the different types of arthritis, and, oh- I don't know. We just talked. 

My boy and I. I loved it. 

The men got the TV all set up and I was quite proud of them. We watched The Great British Bake Off. Owen loves that show. Or at least he claims to. 

Mr. Moon kissed me good-bye this morning when they left. I think. I could have dreamed it. And they left me a sweet note by the coffee pot where Glen had set up my coffee to start at 8:30 which is my usual civilized time to arise. 

I did not do much today. I've been so busy and I just wanted a day to laze and lounge. I picked the garden of course. 

The zinnias are my favorite crop right now. 

They just make my soul smile. 
While I was in the garden with sweat dripping off me, Maurice came out and began meowing at me. She eventually settled in the shade of a row of field peas and continued her bitching until I finished what I was doing and turned on the sprinkler. I know she was telling me that it was way too hot out there and that I needed to get back in the house. I told her that I agreed and Lord, did it feel good to get back into the air conditioning. 

And then I started in on a project which should have been fairly easy and swiftly done. 
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!

So, the days before we go to North Carolina is when I generally shop for and buy new stuff like, well, the bathing suit, new flip-flops, a few new dresses. All, or mostly, at least, online. 

And I had ordered a dress that I knew was a cheap dress and it was too small for me but I liked it. However, sending shit back for a return or an exchange when they don't even include a packing list or instructions or anything just seems overwhelmingly hard to figure out. 
For me, anyway. 
And since the dress was so cheap (in all regards, but still- it had pockets), I decided to just undo the tops of the side seams and sew in a little more fabric to give my luscious bosoms more room to breathe. The dress is black and I have some black silk from way-back-when that I had used to make Mr. Moon a pair of comfy drawstring britches and although it is definitely not a perfect black match, it would do, especially if I only wear the dress around here. 
So first of all, my usual sewing table has that crossword puzzle on it that I sort of hate and haven't even been working on so I set up the original table that you could buy back in the fifties (they got some stuff right then) to set my grandmother's Singer Featherweight in. 

That was the easy part. Next came the seam ripping so that I could properly insert more material. 

ARGHHHHH! 

When I tell you that it took me over two hours to do one of the two sides of the alteration, I am not kidding you. And I am talking about six inches of alteration per side. It may be a cheap dress but they sewed that cloth together like it mattered! And of course, it does. I started in on the other side and looked at the clock. It was already five! No way I was going to get the second side done this evening. My eyes are half blind from trying to see the tiny stitches I'm trying to rip out and my left hand is numb because it always goes numb when I'm doing any sort of repetitive work due to a very old wrist injury. So I set it all down and unplugged the iron (you can't sew without an iron) and went and started the dishwasher. 

I have no idea if I am supposed to be making supper tonight. Glen texted to tell me that they were off the water and safe and I texted back "Hurray!" and "Did you have a great time?" and "Let me know if y'all are going to want me to feed you tonight."

So far, this is what I've gotten back. 

I am thinking that means they had a great time but I have no idea about their nutritional needs. 
And I am not worrying it. 

I feel that I must bring you all up to date on Sheba, a sleek, black cat, who was my faithful feral for awhile. I was feeding her and providing water in the backyard for at least a few weeks but one day I saw Jack AND Maurice chasing her and I have not seen her since. 

I miss her. 

And here's another cat story. 
As I have said, I bought 20 pounds of Kirkland cat food at Costco and started feeding that to my cats. Even Sheba was not fond of it and Jack and Maurice ate it, but only because otherwise they would have died of starvation. A bowl of that stuff would last for days. I finally caved in with about three pounds of the Costco stuff left and bought a bag of Meow Mix which is probably the cat equivalent to a diet of Hot Pockets. Or ramen noodles. Or Taco Bell. 
And a few days ago my husband dumped out the cats' bowls of Kirkland's nutritional cat food and washed and rinsed and dried those bowls and filled them up with Meow Mix. 
They went crazy, according to Mr. Moon. I was still in bed when this happened. He said that Maurice was making noises like, "Meummm yum, yum, mehummm" as she inhaled the Meow Mix. 

I am telling you- these cats were born at the dump. Their tastes were formed there. They do not want nutrition. In fact, here's something else- Maurice's favorite treat besides Temptations is lunch meat. Yesterday I bought some pricey Boar's Head chicken and turkey from the deli at Publix for the boys' fishing sandwiches, and I gave her a little bit of a slice of the chicken this afternoon. 
She sniffed it and walked away. 
Now if it had been Oscar Meyer, she would have eaten it up and asked for more. 

Okay. Just got a call from Glen. They are on their way home. They caught mahi-mahi, red grouper, red snapper, and lane snapper. And they are going to stop at the barbecue joint on their way home. 

I guess I am excused from KP duties tonight which is a good thing because the dead animal in my kitchen is still quite dead. 
Hopefully, the man will deal with that tomorrow. I have a feeling this is going to involve pulling out the dishwasher. It's not going to be fun. Bless his heart. 

Love...Ms. Moon