I Can Smell Those Shrimp Just Beginning to Boil

It's not very obvious but if you look closely, you can you see a little dragonfly doing a handstand on one of the hurricane lily petals. It practically begged me to take its picture. It was probably a young'un. "Hey lady! Look what I can do!" 

I could have done better with the photo but the mosquitoes are suddenly raging and ravenous. I guess we had a recent hatch from that last big rain. They are bad. Bloodthirsty little fuckers. Slap, scratch, slap, scratch. Curse. Repeat. 

You know what? I don't really have a thing to write about. Today was a resting day. I remembered the Sabbath and kept it wholly here at the Church of the Batshit Crazy. Of course I made the traditional Sunday morning breakfast or at least the one we eat when the kids aren't here and demand their pancakes. Bacon or sausage is always involved, as are biscuits. Today we had grits with those and eggs instead of air-fried potatoes with onions and peppers because I was feeling really lazy. Grits require no slicing, dicing, chopping, or peeling. The biscuits were decent and I got out some of last year's fig preserves to go on them. 

I patched a hole in a pair of Mr. Moon's shorts. It's a lousy patch in that he said that he might still end up wearing those shorts to town sometimes so I should probably try to match the patch to the shorts in color and not do any fancy embroidery stuff on them. And I tried to keep it all neat but, well, as I told him, from fifty feet away no one will be able to see the patch at all. 
It's on the butt so if someone sees it and is perturbed by my messy-ish patch, it is on them. Don't be looking at my man's butt! Or alternately, fine. Look at my man's butt but don't be judging my patching skills! Or hell. Look AND judge. I really do not care. 

While I sewed, I watched some more of "Nine Perfect Strangers" on Hulu. I have to say that's a pretty decent series. They deviated from the book at the end but I guess that's just the way it goes. I sure do like Melissa McCarthy. That woman can act and by the way, she's beautiful. Excellent casting there. I'm warming up to Nicole Kidman a little bit. It's only taken me about seven episodes but it is slowly happening. 

So it's a long story which I will not go into but yesterday Glen did bring home not only fish he'd caught but also some lovely shrimp from a local purveyor of seafood. And so I'm going to make a shrimp salad tonight- the recipe based on what our darling Anne-Helene from Norway used to make when she lived with us. Some of you may have heard the story of how a six-foot tall Norwegian woman came to live with our family but some of you probably have not. I'll just say that we met her and her traveling companion, a ridiculously handsome guy, in Cozumel in 1987. I thought they were rock stars, actually, but it turned out they were psychiatric nurses. Anyway, before you could say "Una margarita sin sal, por favor," Anna became part of our family. She was so glorious. 
And she made this delicious shrimp salad that was somewhat informed by what she and I had for supper many nights in Cozumel which was half an avocado with shrimp in it and a delicious dressing over it. So Anne's salad included good lettuce (not iceberg), tomatoes, avocados, small seashell pasta, peppers (I think), hard-boiled eggs, and cheese. Oh! And corn! And I made my grandmother's goop that she made when we had crab for dinner which was extremely rare even though there was a crab house packing plant right down the road from Roseland. Now eventually the crab house was torn down and at some point, Arlo Guthrie built a house on that property or bought a house that had been built on that property, I am not sure which, drawn to the area because his guru lived in Roseland and had a community based where I attended church as a child- The Roseland Garden's Community Church. 
I am not making this up. 
But that's all beside the point. The goop is the point and I have discussed this too. It is nothing more than mayonnaise, a tiny bit of Miracle Whip, and Heinz Chili Sauce, mixed together. It tastes a great deal like the dressing on the avocado/shrimp salad that Anne and I used to get at La Mission in Cozumel and so it is as integral a part of the salad as is the shrimp. 
Hank often asks for this shrimp salad for his birthday. And of course I make it. It is delicious. I am thinking I have forgotten an ingredient or two and I always worry about this. 
Hank- what have I forgotten? 
I always encouraged Anne-Helene to add black olives but she was not a fan. Sometimes now I do add them as we are fans. Especially Mr. Moon. 

Man. If anyone can take nothing and make something of it, it's me. It's like my ability to use leftovers to make more leftovers. I just did a search of my blog for "Shrimp Salad" and this ground has been covered more than the dirt in a too-small chicken coop with a too-large flock.
Okay. Maybe not that much. Or maybe more than that. I don't know. Here's the funny thing- I have so many stories I have NOT told. Some of them I haven't told because they are not entirely mine to tell. Some of them I haven't told because they are deeply personal. Some of them I have not told because they would be embarrassing for me or some other person. Some of them I have not told because it would be an inappropriate breach of someone's privacy. 
But hey! Who knows? The older and more dementia-ish I become, the more apt I may be to throw caution to the winds and tell it all. 

One never knows. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just Happy To Be Here. Also, Boat And Fishing Education

I had a great day today! 
It did start out a little weird as I woke up from a one of the strangest dreams I've ever had and you know I've had some strange ones. Lucky for you, I'm not going to relate it here because it could be triggering in about fifty different ways. It wasn't that hard to interpret as it played on a huge childhood fear of mine with lots of other little salient details that I know well as symbols for parts of my life that I will probably never truly be at peace with. 

This brings to mind something that a woman and I were discussing via email a few days ago about the word "closure" and how we all so love to think that traumatic events can come to closure and that when they do we can tie them up in neat little bows in their boxes and put them away, never to worry about them again when in fact, this hardly ever really happens. We may, over time, learn to live with what has happened. We may use the experience to help others. We may even come to a place of peace about it but it will always be with us in some form. At least that's how I see it. Perhaps I am just misusing the word "closure" but it's not really a concept that I put a great deal of faith in. 

But that is not what I came here to talk about as I so often say. I came to talk about what a great day I had which mostly involved weeding. God, I love to weed. There's just something about being on my knees and plunging my trowel and hands into the dirt to dig up and pull weeds while listening to a book or podcast that makes me so happy. I am using my body! I am outside! I am in the dirt! I am making way for rows of vegetables! I am tending my tiny plot of land. 
It was still hot today but not the killer hot that drives me back into the house, melted and soaked through with sweat. I even felt a cool breeze two or three times. Just for a second, but enough to notice and appreciate. It got overcast at one point which also helps and for a little while there was even the barest mist of rain but it turned out to be merely a slightly-damp kiss from Chac Mool, not a full-on drenching, powerful, naked embrace of love. 

You know what I mean. 

So I did that for most of the afternoon with breaks taken to cool down and rehydrate. No need to kill myself. And I still have plenty more to do. I concentrated mainly on one area today which was that strip in the picture above between the two fences. It was thick with weeds. I had to dump the garden cart twice with all that I pulled and my hands are sore and red and ants attacked them and I must have pulled some stinging nettle of some sort but I am happy. 

Mr. Moon called me about noon to tell me that he was on his way home. The weather forecast had been abysmal and they did not want to chance it. Yesterday they saw such heavy clouds over the water that five waterspouts formed at one time. They were a distance away but those things are scary. So I told him to come on home but then he called me a few minutes later to say that they'd changed their mind, the sky looked so clear, the sea looked so flat, and they were going to go out but just a little way. And so they did but before too long, the weather changed again and they decided to opt for safety and came on back to land. 
That's Florida for you. Or probably anywhere on the water. 

He's home now. He did get one keeper grouper and that is going to be delicious. "Keeper" means that it is a legal size to keep. There are strict regulations about these things for each species. It must neither be too small or too large. You can identify a fishing boat because it will have a permanent sticker or decal on a gunnel which has inches and feet printed on it like a ruler or measuring tape. And oh- a "gunnel", also called a "gunwale," is one of the boat's sides. 

Aren't you glad you know this now? 

So I am happy and I have a happy husband. He did not fish so long this weekend that he is exhausted, sore, and sunburned. He's just cheerful. I like him like that. I, too, am cheerful so for the moment at least and life is good here in Lloyd. His fish-stinky laundry is in the washing machine and I figure it will take more than one washing to rid not only the clothing but the washing machine itself of that smell. 
I do not especially mind that. I had a sister-in-law once who sometimes spoke of "the smell of another woman's body on a man's person." 
I knew what she meant. I prefer the smell of grouper. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Video Review Plus Movie Review. But What Do I Know?

 For the first time since Jimmy Buffett died, I woke up this morning and my brain radio was not playing one of his songs. Instead, it was tuned into "Angry" which is the song off the Stones' new album that they've released and for which there was a video. 

I was not sure about the song at first. Or the video. I think that the voluptuous blonde (Sydney Sweeny) writhing on the back of a red Mercedes convertible sort of made me question intent but come on. 
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I mean- that IS the Stones. And Ms. Sweeny is a lovely woman and she certainly does not appear to be in any sort of situation in which she is not in charge of or enjoying, and when Jimmy Fallon interviewed HER on that livestream on Wednesday, she seemed to view the opportunity to be on a Stones video as the highest honor. Also, her mom was right there with her and she approved so there you go. I do imagine she received a decent amount of coin for it too. 
Plus, it's a good song and has some terrific riffs and lovely guitar weaving (as Keith likes to call it) between Wood and Richards. Also- and this cracks me up- there is the line that Mick sneers to a lover who is not treating him right, "I'm still taking the pills and I'm off to Brazil" and okay, the man is eighty but this does not seem like an empty threat to me. At the same time, it IS funny and Mick knows it.
And I do love the Stones-on-the-billboards on Hollywood Boulevard.  So now I'm going to post it and you can get it stuck in your head. 
If you want. 

So guess what I did today? 
Yes. I did wash my sheets. 

Guess what else? 
I got dressed and went to see "Barbie" all by myself. I like going to the movies by myself but in this case, I think I might have enjoyed it more if I'd had someone there to laugh at the jokes with me. 

Everyone loves this movie and I mean EVERYONE! I have not read or heard a bad word about it and many of you have gone to see it more than once. 

And I liked it okay but it didn't make my head explode with the truth and beauty of it. For one thing, too much goddam pink. I know, I know! It's Barbie. Pink is her color! But that's just me. Despite that, the sets were gorgeous and spot-on. I also think that the actors all pulled their weight beautifully, from Margot Robbie, whom I completely fell in love with, and Ryan Gosling, who were THE Barbie and Ken, to Kate McKinnon who played Weird Barbie, a woman I'd choose to have as a best friend any day. Rhea Perlman blew me away. She was perfect. Will Ferrell was absolutely terrific as the clueless white male CEO of Mattel. 

Truthfully, I think the entire cast was genius. 

The Barbie jokes were very funny. Watching Robbie drink her morning beverage from a cup that never came close to her lips and which held no actual beverage triggered a million memories of playing with dolls and "feeding" them. It was truly funny to see so many of the Barbies brought to life that have been produced, including the ones that were discontinued quickly such as the young Skipper doll whose bosoms grew when you raised her arm. Or maternity Midge. I wish I'd had that one. The doctor Barbies, the gardening Barbies, the astronaut Barbies, the mermaid Barbies- they were all represented as were so many more. 
But after awhile, the jokes got a little stale through repetition to me. The sight of Barbie driving her car was so funny at first but by the end of the movie, not so much. The story line about how Barbie and Ken traveled from Barbie Land to the real world of the country of California was a bit contorted but hey! We're talking Barbie here. 
I think the part that I really was not thrilled with was the way they tried to wrap everything up at the end. Yes. Ken needs to be Ken as an individual person without Barbie and Barbie needs to be herself without a Ken. But are little girls watching this movie going to get that message? 
It enrages me to some degree that this is supposed to be a ground-breaking movie with a strong message about the patriarchy and how women view themselves and other women and how we need to value ourselves more for who we are and not compare ourselves to some unattainable image modeled on a Barbie doll. Why haven't we broken this ground already? And must we do it in this cartoony way in order to make it all more palatable to those who are completely unaware of what the patriarchy represents in our culture and has represented for eons? 
I don't know. I guess we probably do.
I was heartened to hear men laughing in the audience. There were not many people in the 1:30 showing and almost all of us were over the age of sixty. At least. And when the last line of the movie was delivered, which I considered to be the very best part of the whole dang thing, I loved hearing all of us old women cackling like the crones we are. 
I will not give it away because I do recommend people go see it. If, that is, there is anyone who hasn't at this point. 

And I'm glad I went. I got too large a container of popcorn. I could only eat about half of it but I did get "butter" on it. As I told the guy at the concession stand, "I only go to the movies about once every three years so let's do it up right."

And it was fun to sit in one of those seats that turns into a recliner. I felt incredibly decadent. 
But I will tell you one thing- if there had been one more damn preview before the movie, I would have walked out. It was ridiculous. There was probably at least twenty-five minutes of those fuckers and I will not be going to see any of them. 

Oh god. I'm a mean old bitch, aren't I? 
Yes. Yes I am. 

And tomorrow I am going to get some work done outside or know the reason why. 
Having said this, I can think of many reasons why I would not get any work done outside and none of them are pleasant to think about. 

Well. 

Oh! What do you see in this picture?

Yes, dropped magnolia leaves and iron plant and that one green stalk. 
Here's a close-up.

The hurricane lilies are making their short, precious, annual appearance once again. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Bebes, Gods, Goddesses, And Deep Thoughts

Today was pretty swell, actually. I pulled up my biggest girl panties and called my doctor's office to find out what their new protocol is for getting blood drawn before an exam. In the last few months, my doctor has changed the group he is in and whereas I used to go to one building to get all sorts of labs and scans and x-rays, I am going to have to go to different places. In some ways this will be good in that it could sometimes take hours and hours, waiting to get my blood drawn, but now I'll be making an appointment at a lab for a specific time. I'll worry about the rest later. But just making that phone call was enough to chill my bones. 

Mr. Moon was getting ready to leave to go fishing as I was running around here trying to get things done before I left for town to pick up August and Levon, and so we were running into each other as he packed things up and I was doing laundry and things like that. We carried on a conversation, room by room as we encountered each other, both hurrying to get on our separate journeys. Some kissing may have been involved. 

I got to the school on time, parked, and walked to the parent pick-up place. You carry tags with you that have the child or children's names on them that you are picking up and you show those to a door monitor who then calls the child. All of the kids are waiting there, sitting in groups on the floor and before I could catch the monitor's attention with my tags, I saw Levon and he saw me and I could tell that he wanted to jump up and run to me but he knows the drill and he waited until he was called.
Both boys gave me very sweet hugs when they came out of the building and both began to tell me stories from school and both wanted to know if I'd brought a treat and if so, what was it, was it NUTELLA, and could we watch videos of a gorilla fighting a lion and so forth and so on. I had gotten them animal crackers which I figured would not make much of a mess before the violin teacher got there but they were vaguely disappointed I think. Sometime I should get them Nutella to dip their animal crackers in. That would make them happy. 

When we pulled back into their driveway, I said, "Well, mission accomplished!" and August said, "What do you mean?" and I said, "Well, I got to your school on time, picked you up, drove you safely home and here we are." 
"Why wouldn't you have?" asked August. 
Oh, the blessed innocent belief in adults that children have.

I really liked the violin teacher. She was adorable. I hear she has a classical background but she certainly was not stuffy at all. She told August she loved his toenail polish and she wanted to know my name, both the one that most people call me and my grandmother name. I asked if I could watch just a little bit of the lesson and she and August both said that was fine and so I did. Just a very few minutes. 

When it was over, she said August did great and that she'd given him a sticker but she had more stickers that she liked to okay with the parents or some adult family member before giving them to the kids and I, without thinking, said, "Well, unless they have Trump's name on them, they're probably fine," and then I thought, "Shit, Mary, what is wrong with you?"
But she showed them to me and they were like heavy metal music stickers with all sorts of different goth-y sorts of themes and I said that was okay and then she showed them to August who said, "Heavy metal! I love heavy metal!" and she was happy to find a little fellow metalhead.

So speaking of things I probably should not have said, the other day I saw my Trump and DeSantis signs neighbor and we chatted for a few minutes about how we'd fared the hurricane and of course she had to tell me that it was due to the LORD that they'd survived and I said, without thinking, "Well, you should have asked the Lord not to send the storm in the first place," which was so fucking rude. I mean, really. But Gee Dee. Why is okay for religious people to be shoving that shit down our throats all the time and for us heathens not to point out the obvious fallacies of their thinking?  She said something about how it wasn't the Lord that sent the storm but his winds and rain, and come on- it's not like the wind and rain have a mind of their own which can take precedence over god's love for his people and wanting them to be safe and not killed by falling trees or flooding. That argument sort of works if you're talking about humans having free will and causing war or choosing to murder, but a hurricane? 
It did serve to end the conversation in a timely fashion. 

Speaking of rain, it poured down hard as I was driving home with great forks of lightening flashing in the skies. I took it slow and drove the backroads which I normally do anyway and was fine. It's stopped now and it is mercifully cooler. 

Thank you, Chac Mool! (Mayan rain god.)

That's the image of Chac at Chichen Itza in the Yucatan and although it's hard to tell, he's holding a shallow bowl which, in ceremonies dedicated to him, held a beating human heart. 

Now there's a god with not one molecule of wishy-washiness. You didn't get enough rain? You didn't give me enough hearts! You got too much rain in a hurricane? Talk to U K'ux Kaj, aka Huracan. 

Now see- this makes sense. Or at least as much sense as any other religion. 

I love what Richard Dawkins said which was, "We are all atheists about most of the gods that societies have ever believed in. Some of us just go one god further." I wish he had mentioned goddesses but he did not. 

Sigh. 
Damn patriarchy. 

And here we are, hurtling through space on this tiny beautiful planet in this tiny solar system always questioning/believing/curious/hopeful/despondent/courageous/fearful/hungry/loving/despising/perfect/imperfect with our big brains (compared to what?) always and constantly trying to figure it out. 

Who knows what it all means? 

Not me, baby. That's for sure. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Rather Odd Day

 Well, of course I had to watch the Old Boys in their live stream interview with Jimmy Fallon this morning. Luckily for me, it was on at 9:30 in my particular time zone which is perhaps a little early for the Rolling Stones but I'll take 'em when I can get 'em. 

It was filmed in an old theater in Hackney which is a borough in London. The name of the new album they are promoting is "Hackney Diamonds" which I take is slang for the sparkling bits of glass that spill everywhere when a window is smashed in a smash and grab. Now. Why they chose this is beyond me but they are the Rolling Stones and I am not. The stage was all quite red, crimson, scarlet- all those things. And there were three smashed chandeliers on the stage as well and I wish I could find a picture of that because it was pretty cool. The Stones do have a good art director, whoever it is. 

The interview was fairly short and a bit cheesy. Jimmy Fallon asked them the usual stuff- how long did it take them to make the album (eighteen years, basically), do they enjoy being in the studio together (yes), do they miss Charley Watts (what do you think?) and so forth. A few questions sent in by fans were asked and my favorite, not because of the question which was pretty silly but because of Keith's answer, was "Do you ever see someone in the audience and think that you could marry them?" 
Ronnie said, "Yes! In my dreams." 
But our Keith boy said, "I could marry 'em all, man."

I was pleased to see that they all looked spry and not bad at all for men their age and they all seemed as coherent as twenty-year olds. I believe what impressed me most was the way they all got up from their chairs when it was time to leave the stage. Not a one of them needed to push up with their arms and in fact, Mick leaped out of his chair. 
I think that this observation says far more about me than it does about them. I also think that Mick Jagger is an ageless pixie who absolutely must leave his body to science although I am not at all sure that whatever deal he signed with the devil doesn't include immortality. 

They showed a video of the first song on the new album. It is titled "Angry" and well...I'm not sure what I think about it. 
It's a catchy tune with a good riff and Mick sings the hell out of it. As to the video itself, I will tell you what I wrote my kids after I watched it which was, "The Rolling Stones are still the Rolling Stones." To which Hank replied, "I can't imagine they'd suddenly be someone else."
If you want to watch the video, you can find it here.

I would embed it but I am afraid that many people will not be able to see the subtle tongue-in-cheek humor of it but will concentrate on the voluptuous Sidney Sweeny's writhing on the back of a red Mercedes convertible and deem it perhaps a little un-PC. 

The rest of the day was pretty meh. Since this IS the month where I will have my annual physical, I am already freaking out and anxiety is like a black wet sheet separating me from the world. 
No need to tell me I'm crazy. I know that. 

I worked in the garden for a little while, weeding and pulling sweet potato vines. I got a few nice potatoes and I think I will be getting more. 

It's still just too damn hot. 

Because it was in the shade I also got to work on the little bed outside of the kitchen where the bananas grow and got it tidied up. Thank goodness. I've been meaning to do that for awhile. 

It looks so much better. 

Tomorrow I'll be picking up August and Levon from school because Jessie will be working and August is going to have a violin lesson so they need not to go to after-school. I am looking forward to that. 

I think I very much need some child time. 

All right. Rock on. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Good Lord. This Is A Lot

 So. Did you know that Duncan Hines is marketing Dolly Parton cake mixes? Rachel alerted us to this fact a few weeks ago. She spied them in the store and I saw them today. 

Now I love Dolly with all my heart and I think she is an angel sent straight from heaven to this earth and as such, she can do whatever the hell she wants but still, this is a tiny bit shocking to me. The package art is so retro, isn't it? And one does wonder when Dolly Parton last made a coconut cake. Could have been last night for all I know. 

I was searching the cake mix section but I did not buy a Dolly Parton mix because I was looking for an angel food cake mix to make my famous (hahaha!) pineapple angel food cake to top with strawberries and mangos and peaches. I never buy cake mixes except for this one dessert. I was making my own angel food cakes from scratch in Jr. High but sometimes, you just gotta let go and let Duncan Hines. 

So here's how you make it: 

You empty a box of angel food cake mix (brand does not really matter) in a bowl and add one can of crushed pineapple in its own juice. You mix all that up and put it in a pan and you bake it according to directions. I just use a 9 by 12 pan. This is not fancy. And then, when it's cool, you serve it with fruit over it, whatever you got, and if you're really feeling it, some Reddi-Whip whipped cream. 

You know you want some, right? 

I swear to y'all- I have about run out of ideas for dinners. I think I have made everything I know how to make and then a whole bunch more things that I didn't know how to make but got recipes for online, mostly from the New York Time's cooking app which I very much recommend. In the last week I have made a most amazing fish dish from a recipe I found there involving coconut milk, garlic, honey, ginger, turmeric, cilantro, cherry tomatoes, salt and pepper. And fish. It is so easy and so damn good that I made it twice in one week, mainly because the recipe didn't use up all the coconut milk the first time and I did not want it to go waste, plus it was beyond delicious. 

I served it over rice with asparagus sautéed with mushrooms and sliced almonds. 

The second time I made it I also served it over rice, but this time brown rice, and a salad with cucumber and a Tahini and soy sauce dressing. 

Jump back, Jack. 

Let's see. I've also made white bean chili with chicken and corn, last night's chicken soup/stew, and now I can't even remember. Oh. A sort of beef Lo Mein was in there somewhere. 

I think I'm burned out on meal planning. 

Tonight we are going to have junk-food tacos made with grass fed beef and El Paso crunchy taco shells! Hoo boy. Also the cake. Which just came out of the oven and smells delicious. 

All right. What else is there to discuss today? I met up with Jessie for some Costco shopping and lunch. We just chat, chat, chat, chat. I told her a story today from my rather reckless youth and it made me laugh so hard. It was something I'd almost forgotten and suddenly, there it was right on top of the memory drawer for no apparent reason. Memory is the strangest thing, isn't it? 

Sue used to say that our minds are like a table top and you just keep throwing things on it and they keep piling up and eventually, some of those memories are going to have to fall off because there is no more room for them. But oh, those memories on the bottom of the pile! They are there forever. 

And here's one more thing- I ran into Lauren at Publix. She wasn't working, just in there for some reason. She's like a celebrity at Publix. Everyone greeted her with big smiles. 

And one of the first things she said to me was to comment on my eye-make-up. Now y'all know I never wear make-up anymore but a darling friend gave me some extremely fancy and beautiful golden eye-shadow for Christmas and I feel compelled to use it. So I had done my old eyes today and Lauren noticed and she told me that with my gold earrings and black dress I was making a statement. 
Oh my heart. That girl is so sweet. Her back is better although she is still in some pain. As we parted, I turned around to tell her, "I love you, Lauren!" and she said, "I love you too!" 

I love our family. 

I better get in that kitchen and start chopping up lettuce and tomatoes and avocados and black olives and cooking some yellow rice and grating some cheese. 

Now. Here's my big tip of the day that I learned from Jessie- 

You can buy that bag of six avocados at Costco which cost less than two avocados at the grocery store and let them get just the slightest bit soft. You know- where when you give them a gentle squeeze they give just a little? As soon as they reach that point, put them in the refrigerator and they will be good to use for WEEKS! 

This factoid has changed my life. 

You are welcome. 

Oh! One more thing. 

If you are so inclined, you can watch a live-stream video with Jimmy Fallon, Keith, Mick, and Ronnie on Youtube tomorrow at 9:30 a.m. EST in the US. Adjust for your own personal time zone. 
I am honestly somewhat excited about this. I just want to see what the old boys look like. 

Thank you for your attention.

Love...Ms. Moon

I'm A Tired Old Woman Tonight

I would like to thank all of you who told your stories of grief in the comments from yesterday's post. I was beyond moved. I think if I learned anything from all of you it's that we all grieve differently, we all grieve for different reasons, and we all express our grief differently. And that in different circumstances the same person can react in completely different ways to different losses. I know that I have. And your experiences helped me to see that, recognize that. The way I grieved Sue or Lynn or Kathleen was completely different from the way I grieved for my mother, if indeed what I felt then could be called grief.  Part of me feels guilty about that but not very much. I reacted the way I reacted for so many reasons and I am here to tell you that I wish it had all been different but it wasn't. 

Anyway, you have all given me much to ponder and I love all of you for your courage and honesty. I am humbled. And once again, I am reminded that there are things which all of us must go through in this life and that none of us are strangers to loss. 

It felt a bit cooler this morning. And drier, too. So I took a little walk but by the time I got home, I realized it wasn't that much cooler or less humid. I was soaked through with sweat. 

I saw some of the damage that the hurricane left behind in its wake. Some big trees down, ditches filled with water. Branches broken and snapped. But no houses toppled or roofs torn off. I walked by the GDDG and it looked perfectly fine. The filling-in of that particular low spot was done well, I suppose, and it was nowhere near washed away. The fally-down house is still falling, but not flattened yet. I realize that may not happen in my lifetime. I like that idea. 

I passed a huge tree whose top had broken off, it seemed. It was hollow and beautiful in its way. 

It's very hard to tell from a picture how massive that gaping hollowed out part is but it's taller than I am. 

I wonder how many critters have found homes in that tree over the years. 
Speaking of critters, the squirrels here are fat and sassy now. There has been a pretty good acorn mast from the oak trees and now they are eating pecans as fast as they can get their sharp little teeth on them. They are scurrying around trees, hot on each others' tails. I don't think this is their mating season so perhaps they are defending their stashes of nuts or perhaps they are simply playing, which the juveniles frequently do. A lot of people dislike squirrels, calling them tree rats and other derogatory names. And yes, they eat the birdseed if they can get at it and they eat the pecans and they...well, what DO they do besides those things that get people so upset? I've lived around squirrels all my life and they are just part of our scenery. They chitter and they run around the trees, their toenails making a scittery sound as they grab on to the bark. They sit up and eat with their front paws like little trained bears. They are natural acrobats, leaping from branch to branch and a mother squirrel will defend her babies with the ferocity of a lioness against snakes and hawks and owls. 
I rather like the furry little things and would miss them terribly if they were gone. 

I wanted to try and get a little work in the garden done today and I guess I did. Not much. Every person I know who is over the age of sixty-something complains about the same thing, it seems to me. 
"I just can't take the heat anymore," they all say. 
Good Lord. Me either. So I doubt I worked out there more than forty-five minutes but that was all I had in me. I'm trying to clear it out to make room for the fall and winter garden and this involves not only weeding and pulling of spent plants but also the pulling of sweet potato vines which I have allowed to take over. 
Mr. Moon did indeed warn me about this. 
"Oh, honey," I said. "Let them grow."

Yes. Well. The vines stretch out in long, strong tendrils and the sweet potatoes themselves are only to be found in certain rooted parts of the vines. I pulled and cut some of the vines today and I dug up one nice little patch of the potatoes. They are small and slender and many would say that it's too early to pull them but let's get real- we need some room here for the greens! I should have taken a picture of them but I didn't. When I garden, I put my phone in a ziplock because no matter how deep my overall pockets, dirt is gonna get in there and mess with the charging ports and so forth. I wouldn't take it to the garden at all but it is completely necessary for me to be able to listen to my books and podcasts as I work. But some days (like today) the very idea of expending enough energy to wipe my hands off and get my phone out of its protective baggie to take a picture is just overwhelming. 

By the time I knew I was done, my knees were hurting, my hips were hurting, and I was frustrated and very unhappy that I am in no way, shape, or form capable of doing what I used to be able to do. 

So I came in the house and made soup with some leftover chicken and some celery and the rest of the vegetables that did not get eaten last night while the football game was on. In other words, I used my super power (souper power?) to take leftovers and create even more leftovers. 

Some of this will be going in the freezer without a doubt. 

So that's been my day here in Lloyd. Mr. Moon spent most of the day in town, first at the gym and then going on various missions to get things he needed for his various projects AND things that a neighbor needed for some engine repair and so forth. And because he is such a sweetheart, he brought me home a present. 

My very own stick-picker-upper! 

And I did actually ask for one. 
"Happy birthday," he said, as he slapped it down on the counter. 
"Thank you!" I said. "Just what I wanted."

I'm a lucky woman. 

Love...Ms. Moon

What Is Grief To You?

That's my rather pathetic collection of plants that have been living on the back porch steps lately. From left to right starting with the pot on lowest step we have basil (which is obviously suffering), my Roseland mango, my sea grape with a sort of bug-eaten avocado growing alongside it sharing the space, and the ginger I planted from roots I'd bought at the Asian market. I have just discovered that this form of ginger, most commonly used for culinary purposes in grocery stores, is called Zingiber officinale. 

I am quite aware that all of these plants need more sun. A LOT MORE SUN. Sun is not something we get directly in this yard except for a very few small spots. The ginger can be planted directly into the ground as could the basil, of course. But I bought it hoping to keep it alive for a few months where I could tend to it. I need to put all of those plants on the kitchen porch, I suppose. That does get the direct late afternoon sun. That is the spot where my Crocs go to shrink when I forget and leave them out there. 

I have not done shit today. 
Do you know why? 

No, seriously, do you know why? Because I don't. I just didn't feel like it. I'm not depressed or overly anxious and the weather has been not as monsterously horrible as it has been. I just didn't want to do anything. So I made our hearty Sunday morning breakfast which we ate around noon, and did some laundry and that has been that. Oh, I've done other stuff but not a bit of it constructive. Or creative. 
And I don't care. 

I've spent a good amount of time reading tributes to Jimmy Buffett on Facebook. Everyone from Paul McCartney to President Biden to Elton John to people who only met him briefly, have written their stories of how the man connected with them and what that connection meant to them. He just sounds like such a very, very nice person. 
I've had some of his songs in my head all day. I've always said that if you have an ear worm that's driving you nuts, just go listen to a Jimmy Buffett song for two minutes and it'll be gone. Doesn't matter what song. The song I've had in my head almost all day is one he wrote called "Lone Palm." It's not a big get-up-and-dance party song. It's reflective, and one verse especially, makes me cry. It goes like this. 

I knew this girl made of memories and phrases
Who lived her whole life in both chapters and stages
Danced 'til the dawn
Wished all her worries away
Well she wasn't crazy, no she wasn't mad
She just wanted the father that she never had
From under my lone palm
I think about her today

That was me. 
That was me. 

I absolutely remember listening to that song and hearing it truly for the first time. I broke down. In a car in an alley behind a Dunkin' Donuts in Tallahassee beside a bar we were going to go in on a Friday night. It was one of those moments. 

****************

Mr. Moon chain-sawed more of that reptile-looking branch that fell in our yard during the storm and hauled it to the burn pile. We talked about how big it was getting and I said, "We could burn a body on that thing."
"Okay," he said. "Who do you want to burn?"
"I need to ponder this," I said. 
I do love that man. 

There's some sort of FSU football game (I think) on the TV tonight and he invited Tom over to watch it with him. I don't think that Tom has his power back yet and he's going to take a shower here too. And that good man of mine drove to Publix and bought chicken wings and cut up vegetables for them to eat so that I would not be put out too much. I will eat some leftovers and will probably use the uneaten cut-up vegetables to make soup this next week. 

I guess that's all I have to say. I was sort of thinking today about how everyone in this world who lives past the age of thirty has probably experienced grief of one sort or another and how I am so curious as to how people do indeed experience it. I know that there are so many factors involved. How close to you was the person who died? Were they part of your daily life? Your family? A person with whom you had a difficult relationship? A person who had hurt you? A person whom you had once loved beyond reason but had become distant from you? A person who had somehow touched you in a way that may not make sense but is as real as can be? Someone you have admired from a distance? A celebrity? And yes, we can absolutely grieve celebrities when they die because of what they meant to us. 

So if you want to tell a grief story, I would love to hear it. I will tell you that when Sue died, I could do almost nothing but watch informercials on TV for weeks. I remember that a few weeks after she died, Glen and I went down to Posey's which was a bar on the water in St. Marks, Florida where there was smoked mullet and boiled shrimp and beer and sometimes live music and little else, and a woman I barely knew asked me how I was doing and I told her that a good friend of mine had died and that I was completely lost. She told me that her father had died very recently and her her job gave her like a week off. 
I could not believe that. I could not take that in. We hugged and we cried. 
I think of her to this day. 

Love...Ms. Moon

He Was A Joyful Pirate And A Lovely Soul

 

Well, fucking damn. 

Woke up this morning to find that Jimmy Buffett had died. Seventy six years old. Didn't see that coming. Not at all. That son-of-son-of-a-sailor was immortal in my mind. And it hit me pretty hard. 

You know how I talk frequently about how music can save your life? Well it can, and it's not always The Beatles or George Harrison or The Rolling Stones or Bach, either. 
Sometimes it can be Jimmy Buffett. 
People dismiss him and his music. People who don't know any better. And I'm not here to argue about that for one second. 
What I am here for is to tell you that if Jimmy Buffett didn't save my life, he sure did lay a hell of a lot of healing on me. 

A long time ago, back in the twentieth century some time, one of my best friends died. I've talked about her a lot- Sue. I was with her when she went from this place to that, and it was, if such a thing is possible (and it is), a beautiful death. People around here often say in obituaries that their loved one "transitioned" and that is absolutely how Sue-Sue did it. She transitioned with grace and ease and I was astounded at the peace of that afternoon when she left us. 

One can only imagine how deeply affected I was. It took me a long time to really come to terms with how much Sue's death and the experience I was so honored to share had opened my vision and my awareness. I was learning about grief. Really, really learning for the first time in my life
Another gift that Sue gave me.

But, there were periods of that time when I was deeply cast down into a heavy, dark depression. And during that depression, Glen and I had been invited to go to a Jimmy Buffett concert with friends of ours. They'd bought up a block of tickets for friends, none of whom I knew except for that one couple. 
And I did not want to go. 
I was at that place where there was no seeming possibility of joy and even the idea of going to a raucous concert with screaming Parrot Heads singing along to "Margaritaville" was something I could not imagine. 

But. I got dressed for the concert. There was supposed to be a gathering party first for all the folks who were going together and I could not get out of our car when we got there. I couldn't do it. I was angry and I was sad and I was hurting. I was in pain. 
I did everything I could to try and convince Glen to take me home and go to the concert without me. But he wouldn't. 

And you know what happened? We got in our seats in the nosebleed section and the stage was down there somewhere but of course there was a Jumbotron and when Buffett came on stage with his Coral Reefer band (the man did love a pun) wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and no shoes, grinning like a holy drunk on a Saturday night, I paid attention. And before I knew it, the insane joy of the crowd as he and his band played infected me a little bit and of course, Jimmy's songs are in all of our heads whether we've ever consciously listened to one in our life, and the audience knew all of them by heart, even a little boy sitting in front of me who told me that this was something like his fifth Jimmy Buffett concert, and...I got it. Everyone was out of their seats. Everyone was dancing. Everyone's pain was lifted for at least a little while.
The man wasn't peddling music (although the music was good and his band amazing), he was peddling happiness. 

And that is when I began to come back to life, a breath at a time. Jimmy Buffett did that. 

I wrote a post in 2013 about how his music continued to be a part of my adapting to life without Sue. You can find it HERE. 
You've heard the story before but I think it's a beautiful piece, if I do say so. And I've probably told this concert story before too but hell. Jimmy died last night. His family said that he was surrounded "by family, friends, music, and dogs. He lived his life like a song till the very last breath and will be missed beyond measure for so many."

I'm one of them. 

And you know what? That song that I posted last night by Todd Snider? Well, I discovered Todd Snider at the second (and last) concert of Buffett's that I went to. He opened for Jimmy. 

And. Jimmy wrote a song memorializing the brilliant Bill Wharton, the second person I met when I moved to Tallahassee. It's a great song. "I Will Play For Gumbo." Bill is a performer who makes gumbo on the stage at his performances and then he serves it up to all the folks. He makes his own brand of hot sauce so he's known, of course, as the Sauce Boss. 

There's so much more. Jimmy was a huge protector of the manatees, he loved the mermaids at Weeki Wachee and used films of them for years in his concerts. He was married to his wife Jane forever. They had a child, they adopted two children. He wrote books, he had adventures, he was smart as hell and made a ton of money and as Bill Wharton said in his Facebook post this morning, he was "the hardest-working man I've known in show business." 

Bless you, Jimmy Buffett. You've brought so much light and so much joy and inspired so much dancing and so many smiles and, yes, a few tears. You were a wordsmith, you were a tune-writer, you were the son-of-a-son-of-sailor and I thank you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Heroes

Well look who's here, as we speak!
The news started going out via the neighborhood grapevine- "Duke's here and the power will be back within the hour!" My next door neighbor knew this to be true because her husband is a sheriff and he was down by the DG, directing traffic around the power guys. 
Of course we had that line down in the yard so there was that, too. I'd texted Duke Energy and Glen had actually talked to them but when he heard they were working down the road, he went on over there and talked to the guys, showed them the work order he'd gotten a copy of, and despite the fact that they knew nothing about that, they drove on over and...well, that line is already back up. Those guys know what they're doing. Now we're just waiting for the main line to come on. 

When they pulled up, I stepped out on the porch and yelled, "Thank-you!" and then "Heroes!" They grinned and waved. They really are heroes. These guys work in horrible heat and worse humidity to restore people's electricity. After a hurricane, the line workers are the most beloved people in our world. When you've been without power for days, the sight of their trucks coming down the road is better than seeing Jesus descend from the clouds. Of course we've had no disruptions here at our house but god, I am so glad for my neighbors. 

And- for the first time since Tuesday, the generator just went off and the fans are still running so...WE HAVE POWER!

Lily and Lauren got theirs back about three this afternoon so we're all good. 

Wow. Such relief. 

Those martinis are going to be extra sweet tonight. 

I actually got quite a few domestic chores done today, from taking trash and cleaning toilets and doing laundry to making a run to town to get a few things we needed and probably a few things we didn't. But it feels good to have accomplished some things and I am so glad to have my energy and mojo working again, so to speak. Man, I was a mess this past week. 

One thing that has cheered me through it all is the fact that the Rolling Stones are releasing a new studio album of all new material next Wednesday. These will be original songs, of course, that they've been working on for years when they could all get together. Some of the songs will have Charley Watts on drums as they began recording before his death. I hear that Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr will also be a presence on the album. Which is a little bit of a mind-blow, considering irony and stuff like that. 

The Old Boys have been subtly raising excitement about this event, including, a few weeks ago, a small advert in The Hackney Gazette. 

I take it that the Hackney Gazette is "The source for all your Hackney news since 1864." I honestly do not know if Hackney, which is in Great Britain, has any special significance for the Stones but I'm sure there's a reason it was chosen. 

And then, this week, all subtlety was abandoned when things like this started appearing. 

Oh, Mick Jagger- you brilliant man! Not only are you the best frontman in the world, you are also one hell of a businessman. 

Last night I was thinking about a song by a guy named Todd Snider. Snider is one hell of a song-writer and performer by the way, and he wrote a song called "Brenda" about Keith and Mick. Brenda is the name that Keith and Charley used to call Mick behind his back. And so I found it on Youtube, of course, although it's not a performance video. I also found the lyrics. The song is on Snider's album "Todd Snider Agnostic Hymns and Stoner Fables." 

Met on a train goin’ somewhere fast
He could see what she had right on
Together they build up an empire so vast
That no one and nothin’ could stop them
He looked like a man of the people
She looked high as hell at the ball
Of course they made everybody so jealous
But no one could touch ‘em et all
It was true love

What while the rabbles was restin’
They conquered the world and beyond
With each new insatiable ambition
They tested and strengthened their bond
He wasn’t nearly as driven
She wasn’t nearly as fun
But together they was quite a combination
When it come down to gettin’ it done
It was true love
True love

They amassed unspeakable fortunes and she still wasn’t satisfied
So he fell out to find what she wanted in her mind
What a hell of a ride
Bought private jet planes and castles
Took every pleasure that they could
Well good love comes with its troubles
Where things, things wouldn’t always be good
It was true love

There was a few times that she cheated
There was even some times when they split
But she upped and went and he got arrested
And she put up with it
It was drugs
Cause what mattered was keepin’ that feeling
What mattered was stayin’ on top
Some say what’s keepin’ them together so long
Is feelin’ they’ve already thought they could drop
It’s true love
True, true love

These days he’s callin’ her Brenda
That wasn’t always her name
That opened them to so many changes
As they weathered the pressures of change
Not long ago she almost lost him
Lesser man might’ve been dead
But just when she thought he might be giving up
He was back up in business instead
It was true love

Tonight I’m sure he’s in some tavern, smokin’, he’s drinkin’ it in
And I’m sure she’s holed up in that office, cruchin’ the numbers again
He’s livin’ it up while she’s workin’
I guess that’s just about right
Mick Jagger was born on a Monday morning
Keith Richards was born on a Saturday night
It was true love
It was true, it was true, it was true love
It was true, it was true love

If you have any desire, and I seriously doubt you do, (I know that my Rolling Stones obsession is mine and probably not yours) you can read the lyrics while you listen to the song. 

Wow. It's been a week. 

I'm sipping a martini and we have clean sheets on the bed and the electricity is back on in Lloyd, and the Rolling Stones, Est. 1962, are releasing a new album. Will they tour on it? 
I would not bet against it. If Brenda can still dance and sing and Keith can still flash those riffs, they'll do it. 

I sure hope that the album is good. We shall see. 

Love...Ms. Moon