Oh my goodness! What a day! There are the baby chicks, Little Bear is hiding in the back. Those are the strangest chicks. They will NOT eat out of my hand and are still shy and skittish and are not growing very fast but they're fine and healthy and it's not their job to love me, is it? And they will get big eventually.
So. I just had a visit from Mel!
She and I have been communicating for eight years now and she and her husband were in Tallahassee watching their daughter play volleyball at a tournament/competition and I invited them to stop by on their way back to Atlanta where they are catching a plane to go home to Illinois.
And just as with all of my blog friends I've met in real life, it felt as if we'd known each other always. The funny thing is, is that she's just a little shorter than me and her husband is almost as tall as Mr. Moon! We had a very, very nice little visit and she got to meet Mick and the girls and the teens and the babies and Jack and Maurice. It was all lovely.
Here we are!
Yes. We are adorable.
But now they are off on their journey home and the boys are coming out later today and spending the night and I have food to cook for tomorrow and Mr. Moon is trimming and mowing. I'm in a good mood due to such nice people visiting and having cooking to do. Because...well, I love to cook. Let's face it. Big pots of things and big bowls of things and tomorrow will be a feast and the children will hunt Easter Eggs and we'll make deviled eggs with them and it's just going to be a fine time.
So. Good day and hello and I hope you are doing well on this So Very Holy Weekend where we may not celebrate Jesus coming back from the dead but are celebrating the rebirth of life and green and being together and all that we have and all that we love and I am grateful for every drop of it.
That's a picture I got from Lily this morning. She and Jessie had taken the children to a local park for an Easter Egg hunt and I don't even have the words to tell you how that picture makes me feel.
Same for these two, which Jessie sent me when Boppy went over to her house to eat his lunch.
As I texted back to her, "There. That. That's what it's all about."
Which is truer than true. Well, at least for grandparents.
And, I just got this picture, right this second.
Boppy at Owen's baseball game playing pat-a-cake with his granddaughter AND I hear the boy just hit a home run.
And thanks, God, for sending the only son you could manage to begat (begot?) to suffer and die for us.
I'm still not sure how that works just as I'm still confused about who or what the Holy Ghost is but I'll be cooking a ham and some collard greens to celebrate the whole deal and yes, I've remembered to buy some candy. Also, my chickens are doing their best to satisfy all of our egg needs.
Now. If you have time, God, could You please not let us go to war with North Korea or anyone else, for that matter, and also, could You do something about all of the starving children?
I'm afraid it may be too late for even You to do anything about the melting ice caps and certain destruction of our planet but hey! I hear miracles are Your thing so...
Maybe?
I was running around this morning, trying to get things done before I left for my eye appointment. Feeding chickens, cleaning up the bathtub chick's bedding, mixing fresh water with their vitamins and electrolytes and probiotics, hanging a few clothes on the line, making the bed...general stuff.
Suddenly I remembered how damn blind I get when I have my eyes dilated and I panicked. The last few times I've gotten my eyes dilated I've known for sure and certain that I shouldn't drive. It's like one of those nightmares where you are driving along and can't see out the windshield or can't open your eyes or something horrible like that. Shit. I knew Mr. Moon had an appointment with his acupuncturist and Lily was at work and Hank was actually working and of course, May was working and so I got in touch with Jessie although I hated to, knowing how long she'd have to wait for me with August but she said she'd gladly do it and so I drove to her house and she drove me across town and while I had my exam, she took August to a little park.
It went fine, of course. No brain tumors detected and my macula looks fine and that's a fear of mine because my mother had macular degeneration. I'm going to have to have cataract surgery by the time I'm seventy but that was pretty much a foregone conclusion.
I told this doctor who saw me that I'd returned to him because I really did like him and because he'd figured out a correction that no one else had been able to figure out and he thanked me more than once for telling him that. He said that he really does like having a connection with his patients. It means a lot to him and I believe him.
Also? He has no problems laughing at jokes.
So I got my new prescription and Jessie and August came back and the sweetest, prettiest lady helped us with frame choosing. I had determined to get something with a little bit more panache this time. Why not? I'm an old lady and who cares?
I got blue frames. Light blue. Jessie and the lady both gave their approval.
And it'll take some time for them to come in. I am mostly looking forward to better vision but it will be nice to have blue frames.
So that was that and I should feel all relieved and happy but basically I came home so wiped out that I had to take a nap and woke up feeling nothing but old and weary and boring and useless.
The sugar snap peas are starting to make.
Oh, how the children will love them when they swell and they can pop the entire things into their mouths, crunching the sweet green crispness which is only available if you can pick them off the vine yourself, making them all the sweeter.
Woke up this morning almost trembling with anxiety. Okay, maybe I was trembling. This was mostly due to knowing I am being delinquent in scheduling the various screenings, etc., that my doctor wants me to do.
I checked to see when my next appointment with him was and discovered it isn't until June and fuck! The Big One Comet could hit the earth by then, totally negating any need whatsoever for screenings or blood work or anything else in the medical realm. Who cares what your triglycerides are if you're melted into nothing but maybe some random atoms?
I'm sorry but yes, I would indeed sacrifice all of humanity including myself in order not to have to schedule another colonoscopy. That's just the way it is and I am a sad and selfish woman but let's face it- if we're all dead, no one will care. That's what I say. It's like that old anti-abortion argument- WHAT IF YOUR MOTHER HAD CHOSEN TO ABORT YOU????!!!! HUH? HUH?
Well, I'd never fucking know, would I?
Stupidest argument ever.
Anyway, I actually grabbed the phone and tried to complete one medical assignment which of course did not work out but I did make an appointment to get my eye exam tomorrow with the doctor I wanted.
Yes, yes. I know. As my younger brother used to say when he was but a sprout, "No applause, just throw money."
So. Thank GOD I finally overcame all hurdles to that little chore and hopefully the optician won't notice a brain tumor through my eyeballs or tell me I'm going blind or anything like that and I'll just get a new prescription and pick out some new glasses and when I get them I'll be able to see better and won't be viewing life through all these scratches and also, I hate these frames so maybe I'll be happier about that too.
Although of course, I'm fairly certain that I'm going blind or else have a brain tumor although I have no evidence of either but this is where illogical anxiety comes in.
BUT, after I made those phone calls I met Jessie and August at their house where August spied me from the breezeway and got so excited and said, "MerMer!" and ran to the door to meet me and my heart was like a tiny pink feather, so light and so happy.
Seriously. That's exactly what it felt like.
And we went out and did some shopping and that space helmet was at Home Goods along with a lot of other coolio stuff and no, I didn't buy him the helmet (hat, he kept saying, and at one point, had it slipped down over his belly with the face shield flipped all the way up) but I did get him a butterfly net and it was just fun.
We had lunch, of course, and then we went to a little children's consignment shop (lots of good bargains on gently used children) and here's August playing at the train table.
His mama shopped a little bit and then I got Maggie two pairs of sandals and a dress which looks like something that Audrey Hepburn might have worn with a tasteful string of pearls and her hair in a French Twist.
And then, because Jessie The Pregnant Lady had been craving a pastry from a local bakery which was right down the street, we stopped by there. She's been having more tummy discomfort than she did with August and when she wants to eat something, she should eat it. She'll be twelve weeks in about nine days and I keep telling her that she'll feel better by then and I surely hope she does.
So it was another very sweet (pun intended) day and when we got back to Jessie's house I read August two books because I couldn't stand to leave him. He sat in my lap and we read about a farmer named Sue and how she got all of her animals to sleep and we read/sang "Skip To My Lou." And then we hugged and then we kissed and then we hugged and then we kissed until finally I tore myself away so that he and his mama could take much-needed naps.
And tonight I am thinking of how strange it is that at the age of 62, I feel as filled with emotions and hormones (albeit, grandmother hormones rather than the hormones of puberty) as I did at the age of fifteen.
And no more idea of how to deal with all of them than I did then. Also, no more real idea of how to deal with life.
I am fairly sure that I never will, either. I will just keep doing as I have always done which is to stumble imperfectly through whatever arises until The Big One Comet hits the earth or, more likely, I die, feeling what I feel, loving what I love, fearing what I fear, doing what I can.
I have worried about losing my mind all day long. This is the result of a dream I had last night which was the longest, most detailed dream that may ever have been dreamt by a human. I will not try to describe it but will say that it contained elements of terror, self-doubt, shame, a totemic dog, and my mother's and my relationship. Also my husband's and my relationship.
I knew I was dreaming. I kept telling myself that this was certainly the longest and most detailed dream I'd ever had. And then I'd wake up but fall immediately back into it, chapter after chapter after endless horrible chapter.
I finally forced myself to just get up and get out of bed for a while and even as I did so, I wondered if I were still dreaming.
I have not quit wondering that all day long.
Such was the force of this dream.
And this is the source of my losing-my-mind concern.
It has been a most pragmatic day and so I don't really think I'm dreaming but one never knows when one's consciousness is wavering like a mirage on a hot highway. I made Mr. Moon and his Tennessee buddy whom he'd fished with a nice breakfast of eggs and biscuits and bacon to welcome them back. I will be honest with you- I am not especially fond of all of Mr. Moon's buddies but this one I like just fine. He thanked me about ten times for breakfast and told me how delicious it was. Also, he made the bed he slept in more neatly than it's probably ever been made.
These are things which impress me. Also, he tells sweet stories about his grandchildren and his wife.
After breakfast I did chicken tending and a little laundry and ironing. Oh! I took a walk, too. It's been so long since I had a good one that I was surprised I could still do it but it seems I can, unless I am dreaming, of course.
So, the picture up there is of Hawk, Trinky, Dearie, and Nora. I am thinking that very soon it will be okay to let the teen chicks out of the coop during the day. Of course they will be far more at risk for predators but they can run fast and I am fairly certain that even without a mother's guidance they will know instinctively how to hide in the dense bushes. The grown-up chickens may not like this but the time has come to begin the process of them all learning to know each other and for the young ones to begin to learn the yard and where the best places are for dirt baths and where the juiciest bugs may be found and so forth. Despite the fact that I give them fresh greens and fruit every day, they still need to learn to forage and so they shall.
My bathtub chicks are all fine. I can't believe I have only named one of them. I think I am running out of names plus the mental capacity to remember and differentiate between each one.
This is sad. I suppose I could just do as the boys wish and randomly call them Dearie, Nicey, and Butterscotch but that seems lazy. I do think it may be time to bring back the name Eggy Tina (remember her?) and honestly, who knows which of these chicks are roosters and which hens?
One never knows until either crowing or laying of eggs commences although theories may be drawn upon observation.
Meanwhile, my adult chickens are in their last backyard exploration of the day and will soon be heading off to eat actual chicken food which is by the coop. It is like getting a child to bed. There are rituals. Baths, snacks, water, stories, tucking in, kissing, etc.
Except that chickens do most of the work themselves.
Mr. Moon is cleaning the boat and I'm going to make some shrimp and grits.
He is home, now, and his buddy has departed back to Tennessee.
And that is life here today. If I have lost my mind, so be it. If this is still a dream, well, that pedophile hallucinator Lewis Carroll is right.
Please forgive me if you love him. He freaks me out and do not try to tell me that he was not in love with Alice.
Shudder.
I will not comment on either the United Airlines debacle or what Spicer said today about chemical gas and Hitler.
I am too freaked out to say anything about either but I will say that if this IS all a dream, I would like to wake up now.
This morning I watched a video online about Cozumel and in it a meal was eaten at Casa Denis which is one of Mr. Moon's and my favorite restaurants on the island and it is probably the oldest one still operating, housed right downtown in a wooden building which is over a hundred years old. As the folks in the video ate their guacamole and chicken tacos and plantains a great craving came over me and I texted all of the children to see if they wanted to go to El Patron for lunch today and miraculously and amazingly, everyone could make it and so we went. It wasn't Casa Denis, but it was good enough and we sat out on the deck and we ate and we talked loud and we laughed and we laughed and we were probably inappropriate because we have a strange and awesome shared sense of black humor and we realized that it was Sibling's Day and it was wonderful.
Gibson would not get in the picture and Hank told him that once, when he was little, he hid under a car in order not to be included in a group photo but that Gibson boy was there and he had a good time and he ate all of his fried cheese and his french fries except for one that he gave to his sister which was so kind of him. He spilled salsa on his arm at one point, just a little bit, and he held it out to me and said, "Lick it off!" and I did and his eyes were merry and he hugged me.
Oh, grandmothers. We will do anything those bossy little grandbugs tell us to do.
I love being a grandmother. I think we all know that. I remember before I had grandchildren and it seemed like such an alien concept to me. Even as my children were certainly old enough to become parents, I felt as if I had barely stopped being a full-time mother and indeed, the years between Jessie leaving the nest for good and Owen's birth were not very many.
But. When Owen was born and I watched my daughter and her husband work together so beautifully and so splendidly and so well and so strongly to deliver their son and I finally got to hold him, it all became clear and I held that boy to me and I whispered, "I am going to be your best friend," and so it has been.
He may think that a little guy named Chase is his best friend, but really, it's his MerMer whom he himself named when he was just a wee thing.
And now I have four grandchildren, all of whom call me MerMer, even the youngest, and they kiss me and hug me and love me and ride on my hip and my love for them is too strong to even talk about without crying.
Well.
Can you guess what I am about to tell you?
Yes.
Jessie and Vergil are going to give August a sibling in early November, speaking of Sibling Day, and so will be giving me a new grandchild and by now I know that my heart is indeed big enough to hold another child, in fact, it is just waiting with that baby's room prepared as if it has always been there (it has!) and so, there will be more love.
More love given, more love received.
More love within us, more love around us, more love, and it seems to me as if love just drips off our fingertips into the universe or perhaps shoots and sparks like light off our fingertips into the sky and beyond and forever.
Right there, in Jessie's belly she is holding more love and new life.
And there you go, the Very Big News which I have finally been given permission to write about and I am so glad to be able to share it.
In seven months I will have five grandchildren and a little over seven years ago, I had none.
Mr. Moon is getting home from his grand fishing adventure in just a few hours and I will be so glad to see him. I think about the night that he actually saw me in that bar and I was wearing my friend Sue's angora sweater and it kept falling off my shoulder and he asked me to dance and how now, almost thirty-four years later, here we are.
More love and more love and more love.
All right. That's enough. I am weeping at this point and I have things to do.
But.
Here. I paparazzied Gibson who, even as I raised my phone to take his picture, ducked so that I couldn't get a good shot.
I apologize to him.
But hey- I licked salsa off his arm today with my very own tongue.
I deserve a little leeway.
I am a grandmother.
I am ruthless and I am crazy and I am fierce.
Ruthlessly, crazy, fiercely in love and ready for more and I can't wait to see who this next member of our family is.
I got a knock on my front door this morning and I have to admit my blood rose a bit, thinking it might be some sort of religious door-to-doors and I could get a good argument going but no, it wasn't any Seventh Day Adventists or Jehovah's Witnesses or even a politician. These are usually the only people who knock on my front door. Everyone else comes to the kitchen door.
Of course.
Anyway, there were two fellas on the porch, both dressed in decidedly secular shorts and t-shirts and the older one introduced himself and the younger guy who was his son. They were, well, detectorists. Have you seen that series? It's lovely and Mr. Moon and I watched it a few months ago. It's about people who hunt for interesting things with metal detectors and it turns out that there is like an entire culture of these people. They even have a CODE!
So this man and his son had just taken the risk of knocking on my door to ask permission to search my yard for aforesaid interesting things because my house is so old and old yards sometimes hold old things. Which are interesting.
I checked out the vibe and they seemed like fine people and so I said, "Why not?"
They were so thrilled that the dad hugged me spontaneously. I was the first person he'd ever asked for permission to hunt on their property! And I'd said yes!
They got their equipment together and assured me that they would show me what they found and of course I could keep whatever I wanted and that they always took whatever trash they found with them and so on and so forth and I said, "Fine," and left them to their own devices.
Haha!
I spent the morning and early afternoon in the yard, kicking bamboo, cleaning out the hen house, working in the garden, etc. They went about their business and occasionally I'd check in with them to see if they'd found anything.
And they never really did. They were sorely disappointed, I could tell. They found a few pennies and not even wheat pennies and two little rusted padlocks and that was about it. A piece of what looked to be old gas line, perhaps.
I felt bad for them but was glad I could give them a few hours of enjoying their hobby. They both kept thanking me for letting them look and were as polite as could be, even using headphones so that the beeps of their detectors would not bother me.
Soon after they left with their sad little haul (I let them keep everything) Lily and the kids came over. We had so much fun! And let me just say that if you are ever lucky enough to get a visit from Owen, make sure to stock up on Coastal cheddar cheese to make him toasted cheese sandwiches with and you will have a friend forever.
I swear- I think he ate six of them. And asked if he could take some cheese home.
To-go cheese.
Which of course I gave him.
We checked out the new baby chicks and also the teenager chickens. We fed them fruit and Owen held Nicey.
Maggie got down on the ground to try and catch chickens from under the little roost box.
That child! She was determined to catch a chicken and of course, she couldn't but she made me laugh so much. She also took a drink of water DIRECTLY FROM THE CHICKEN WATERER but it wasn't as bad as it sounds because I'd just put a very clean waterer out, filled with fresh water, poultry vitamins, electrolytes and probiotics.
Practically a health drink! Right? Right!
We picked carrots and kale and the kids played on the play set. And Owen ate oxalis (aka sour flower) which he says makes his eyes squinch up as soon as he puts it in his mouth.
He shared with his sister, too.
I feel terrible that I didn't get any pictures of Gibson but he had a good time. When I was pushing him in the swing he yelled, "I love this so much!" and another great quote from today was Owen saying, "We have the best family ever."
I can't even remember what prompted this remark but it sure was nice to hear.
And that's been Lloyd today. A very, very pleasant day and even the chickens amused us. Mick, after I put fresh hay in the nesting boxes, made some beautiful nests and called in the hens to show them. I swear- this is the funniest thing and I remember Elvis doing it too, once in my big potted porch fern which he flattened down nicely. And for awhile, the hens laid there dutifully.
Violet came in and laid one of her tiny eggs where Mick had wallowed out the hay and that damn rooster stood over her and bawked the entire time which would have made me too nervous to lay but perhaps she appreciated the protection and interest.
I wonder how many roosters I have with these new chicks. Hell, they could all be roosters for all I know, but probably not. And it's good to have a back-up or two which reminds me to tell you that Owen and Gibson want me to name two of the baby chicks Dearie and Nicey so that we'll have back-ups of those, too, in case the current Dearie and Nicey die.
They are already sanguine about that possibility, obviously, and perhaps that's part of my role in their lives- teaching them about life AND death.
All right. One more picture. Lily sent it to me. She couldn't wait for Maggie to really get enough hair to make a hairdo with but she did give her a little ponytail on the top of her head.
Show me something cuter.
You can't, can you?
I think we'll keep that kid.
And yes, that's a Kiss t-shirt.
And now, since it's Sunday and we need a hymn, I offer this.
I got a text from Lily this morning saying that Gibson had a T-Ball game at 10:30 in case I was interested.
It was one of those mornings and I knew that if I valued my sanity I needed to get the fuck out of the house and so I went and so did Jessie and August, as you can see. Well. There's August which, 99% of the time, means that Jessie is within arm's length.
When I got to the field, Owen came rushing to meet me and hugged me so hard and even rubbed my back and then hugged me again and I knew I'd made the right choice in coming. Jason is coaching the team again this year and not only is Gibson on it, but so is the darling Lenore. There are lots of girls on the team this year and one of them was even smaller than Lenore and wore a pink helmet and played just fine and I wanted to take her home and wrap her in a blanket and rock her to sleep because she was that cute.
So we had a good time, watching the game and cheering on both teams and there were only a few tears and Gibson mostly paid attention and Maggie fed snacks to August who was a bit wary of even that sort of attention and then he wanted to go play ball too and so did Maggie, to tell you the truth.
Then she found a chair that someone had brought and decided, just like Goldilocks, that it was just right.
And it was.
Please note the Farrah Fawcett curl she's got going up there on the right side of her head. Her right. Not ours.
Eventually, the game ended, as they always do and everyone lined up to slap hands with the other team and coaches and umpire.
There's Gibson and Lenore.
This is definitely my favorite part of the entire game.
So that was that and then we all went to a little arts and crafts festival where our friend Kelly (who gives me chickens) was selling her jams and jellies and preserves. There was a DJ and lots of people selling their wares and an Easter Egg hunt. We hung out there for awhile and I bought two jars of Kelly's preserves and a loaf of homemade banana bread offered by a family which seemed to have a lot of little girls in it. They were darling. What can I say? And then I gave the loaf to Lily for her eternally hungry children to eat.
All of this was good. I needed to be outside and with people and with people, specifically whom I love, but I was uncomfortable the whole time. The anxious itchiness was making me hyper aware of everything and even though part of me was fine, there was another part that was screaming and I'm sure that some of you know what I'm talking about. But I proceeded on to Publix and then to the library and then came home and I called Lis.
We had such a good talk after which I went out into the garden and did some weeding and for about an hour I felt like myself and cheerful and hopeful and I cut up the chicken's fruit and fed them and turned the sprinkler on the garden and was looking forward so much to my supper tonight and was so glad to get a picture from Mr. Moon holding a nice-sized grouper and then suddenly, the anxiety fell upon me again and I swear to god, I am sick of this shit.
One moment I am just pleased as a woman can be because her oldest hen has laid two eggs in the last week and the next moment I wish with all of my heart that it was time for bed so that I can just dissolve into blessed unconsciousness.
Well, fuck it and tomorrow I am going to plant some cowpeas and I got Zadie Smith's new book from the library and it's going to be cool temperature sleeping again tonight and perhaps Maurice will sleep with me once again, her weight against my hip a most real comfort in the dead hours of dreams, and all of my chickens are still alive and there will be grouper in the freezer soon and I got kisses from all of my grandchildren today and Keith Richards is still alive and I have appliances and I have extra rolls of not only toilet paper but also paper towels and I have friends and I live in a most beautiful place and the wild birds are singing their going-to-bed songs as are the hens, and the sugar snaps are blooming and soon we'll be eating their tender pods and peas, and suddenly the tears are stinging my eyes and I know that no matter what, I could not and would not trade this particular life for any other.
But I sure wouldn't have minded getting some better chemicals. I ain't gonna lie.
I had ordered some overalls for Owen and Gibson, per Owen's request, and they arrived in the mail yesterday so this morning I took them over to Lily's when I went to babysit. Owen was thrilled and immediately changed into his after asking his mom if he could indeed wear overalls to school.
"I don't care what you wear but we're leaving in two minutes!" she said, frantically trying to get everything ready to go take the boys to school and then to get to her dental appointment. So I helped Owen get into his new britches and buttoned up all of the buttons and took off all of the tags. He was immediately aware that all of those pockets would come in mighty handy when it came to smuggling Pokemon into school. He loved them. We also discussed how one pees while wearing overalls and his mama gave him some excellent advice which was, "Don't let your straps drag in the toilet."
He looked horrified but I assured him that this could indeed happen if he were not careful.
Gibson couldn't have cared less. He was too excited about being picked up at school by his Aunt Loren and then taken with his beloved Darling Lenore to go see "Baby Boss" to give one thought to his wardrobe.
My Lord, but small boys have a lot of energy at eight a.m.
Maggie was pretty wild too but sweet and happy and she wanted to drink the smoothie I'd brought and so I let her and I swear- she must have drunk eight ounces of fruit and yogurt. We sat on the couch and played baby games and I followed her around inside and out. She's a pretty self-directed little woman when she doesn't want to be held and cuddled which she enjoys immensely. She is firmly into the "dat" phase of language learning, pointing to everything she sees with her fat little finger and asking, "Dat?" which is just what her Uncle Hank did and which, in my learned opinion, indicates huge intelligence.
I took her outside for a little while and it was the most beautiful morning, cool, with the sun coming up and making all of the new green shine with near iridescence.
She was wearing one of my favorite dresses, made of a very narrow wale corduroy along with leggings and her faux Ugg boots and this is a very cute picture but I love this one the best.
She had grabbed her brothers' baseball bat and was headed right down the driveway as if she was already running away from home, taking big strides in her black fuzzy boots. I followed her for a ways but before she got to the dirt road, I took her hand and said, "Come on, little woman, let's go back home," and we did.
When it was time for a nap I held her on my lap and read her a book three times and she fell fast asleep. There is something so infinitely precious about having a child trust you enough to fall asleep in your arms. I carefully transferred her to the bed and waited for Lily to get home. It turned out that instead of a root canal, the dentist decided she could make do with a crown and so that's what she got but it still took awhile. And I wouldn't have traded those hours with my granddaughter for anything. We joked and laughed and cuddled and read and traded an apple back and forth for bites and talked about the names of things.
We simply love each other.
This grandchild love, even after seven years, is still amazing and miraculous to me. I still find each one of them to be quintessential human beings and of course I would- all of my foremothers and forefathers have helped contribute to these small people and although I don't see myself in any of them, not really, I am sure there is a subconscious recognition of DNA and RNA and this is good. It ensures that grandparents help to love and care for their grandchildren, thus helping to ensure that the genes keep on going.
Lily and I were talking about Owen wearing those overalls to school today.
"I hope no one teases him," Lily said. "Then again, he has that rat tail and doesn't care what anyone says about that."
"True," I mused.
"He said he was going to grow it forever," she said. "So I asked him what would happen if one day he got a girlfriend who didn't like it. He said, 'My girlfriend already doesn't like it.'"
I laughed and laughed.
There's a boy who just doesn't care what others think. He is who he is and he likes what he likes and to hell with the rest of the world.
I admire that. I think he's going to be okay, that one, and so will August and Gibson and Maggie.
And that's what I'm thinking about tonight as the sun sets and the chickens go to roost.
Little Bear is still with us. I'm not sure at all that she's out of the woods yet but when I gave the bathtub babies some cut-up fruit, she ran and pecked up a tiny piece and went and hid to eat it. I can tell that she's lost ground, growth-wise, in the past few days but if all goes well, she'll catch up.
It will all be what it will be and I refuse to fucking discuss the potential disasters being foisted upon us and the world by Mr. Shits On A Golden Toilet.
How DARE he use the phrase "beautiful babies"? How dare he? Who wrote those words for him to say and I ask you this- does anyone on this planet believe that he's ever looked at a baby and thought, "Beautiful," much less felt a need to protect it?
I will stop now because that's enough and there is more than enough scary and weird and terrifying energy flooding us all right now. I will simply say yes, let us love our beautiful babies and do everything we personally can to protect them, to nurture them, to tend them, to love them, to encourage them, to make them feel safe enough to be who they are, to sleep in our arms when they are tired.
Bless our hearts. That's as close to prayer as I can get.
Woke up on this lovely cool morning to find that Little Bear is not dead, not dead at all, and not gasping, either. She is running around and seems much improved.
What a cheerful thing!
Perhaps she had a piece of lettuce stuck in her throat.
Or...who knows?
But as of right now, she is alive and well and I am off to babysit Magnolia June while her mother has to get a root canal.
Oh, Lord, the crazies overcame me this morning. I woke up with a very sore spot on my gum near that molar which I was told is going to eventually have to come out and so I freaked out but mostly because my dentist isn't open on Fridays and I may be leaving town on Monday. More about that later. So anyway I called the dentist and quick, quick took a shower and got to town and my sweet hygienist looked at it and then my sweet dentist looked at it and both said nothing looked bad at all- a little redness- and perhaps I could have injured the gum slightly with a chip or a toothbrush and well, yes, I did eat a whole bunch of millet and flax chips yesterday.
God. Either I'm refusing to go to a doctor for any reason whatsoever or else I'm hauling my haunches into the dentist chair to see what horrible thing has befallen me next which usually turns out to be nothing.
It's still sore though and that's the truth.
BUT, after that I felt much better and relieved and all kinds of groovy feelings and stopped by a Goodwill for awhile because I had plans to meet up a little later with Jessie and August and Hank and Rachel at the buffet where they have the entire cooler full of delicious desserts AND a freezer chest full of ice cream treats. I don't know why I always talk about those desserts because I have yet to get one but it's just so mind-blowing to me that you can get anything from fresh fruit to Jello Pudding to cheesecake to Igloo Bars to...well, whatever.
And as much as you want!
But aside from all of that, it's a good buffet and I had a bit of everything including coconut curry tofu with vegetables and green curry tofu with vegetables and Mongolian tofu and Mongolian beef and an absolutely delicious sour pork with vegetables which was filled with greens and goodness.
We ate outside and it was windy and cool. Although we never got the promised rain, we got the temperature drop and after yesterday's humidity and heat fest, it feels like heaven. We had to constantly chase napkins and straws and even chopsticks which blew off the table but it was worth it, having that clean fresh air washing over us. August liked it. As you can tell.
He ate everything too, that boy.
When Jessie pulled him out of his car seat I reached out to him and he came to me and immediately kissed me, no prompting required.
Oh my heart!
He was due for a nap and was in that crazy-wired-silly mood that babies get into sometimes when they need sleep and he laughed and laughed as he ate and the wind blew his hair and I blew the straw paper at him and taught him to do it too.
The best, warmest, most comfy place on earth.
We all sat around and chatted for forever minus not quite and then went our separate ways. Hank, to write trivia, Rachel to an appointment, Jessie for a nap with that baby, and me to the nursery next door where I bought a few red impatiens and a red begonia that I had to have.
The woman who helped me at the nursery practically went into paroxysms of ecstasy over this plant.
"It's so beautiful!" she kept saying. "Isn't she beautiful?" and so on and so forth until I almost wanted her to just hush her mouth. "It's such a good deal!" she said. "I thought it would cost so much more than that!"
Well. Whatever. I do love the begonia and it is now in a new pot on my kitchen porch and I keep thinking of how Kathleen and I would buy begonias and repot them and share with each other.
Oh, how I wish I could show this one to Kathleen. She would love it.
While I was in line waiting to check out, a young man struck up a conversation with me and we got on to gardens and chickens and he was adorable and when I left he said, "It has been so lovely, chatting with you!" and I'm not even kidding.
After the nursery, I drove across town to get my oil changed at the place where Mr. Moon takes all of his cars. It appeared that I got there just as a political argument was about to reach the boiling point.
"What has Trump done for YOU?" asked the employee in charge, of the customer he was talking to. It appeared to me that the customer was also a friend and I would have loved to stick around to hear the rest of the discussion but I was ushered into the lounge where this guy came and sat on my lap.
His name is Jackson. I love him.
And then home again and I've done some plant wrangling and repotting and porch-plant rearranging and fruit-salad-serving to the teen chicks and I am so sorry to report that I do not think that Little Bear is going to make it.
She is gasping more obviously and her eyes are closed and she is not standing up very much. I did even more internet research and she may have some bacterial illness which means the other three will probably get it or else she has a heart problem or maybe even worms but I do not think that's it. Some chicken-sites advise giving water with sugar and supplements with an eye dropper and some say that this only leads to aspiration but remembering how Mr. Moon saved Elvis when he was a chick with a smashed up Centrum Silver and sugar water, I have given her some water with sugar, and chick vitamins and the electrolytes and the probiotics with a syringe but I have just checked on her and I think she is dying.
Poor tiny thing. I almost wish I had the strength to help her on her way but I just cannot. She may well be suffering. She looks as if she is.
Again- I wish Kathleen was alive so that I could call her and discuss this matter with her. She was my chicken guru as well as my begonia partner.
But. This is not to be and I have been doing this long enough to know that not all chickens make it to adulthood and even after that, it's a crapshoot.
All I can do is all I can do and I am at peace knowing that I have at least done that.
If she does die, I think I will bury her beside Elvis who was laid to rest in the front yard beside the wild azalea which is now beginning to bloom. I like to think that I am at least somewhat sensible about my chickens, accepting that they come and they do go, but I will tell you that when Miss Trixie laid an egg yesterday, I wanted to give her a tiny crown with rubies and diamonds in it to celebrate her return, however brief, to full fertility.
There are all ten of the teenager chicks. They're doing so well. We have our little routines. At night I gather them up and put them in the little roost box in the coop so that they will sleep safely, hoping that they will figure out that that is where they're supposed to sleep and will eventually tuck themselves in there at night and all I'll have to do is slide the door closed.
In the morning I open the door and they parade out on their long, stalky legs down the runway and I bring them a bolted lettuce plant from the garden for them to eat and make sure that they have food and clean water. In the late afternoon I make them their fruit salad which delights them and causes great fluttering and pecking and chirping. I feed them some by hand and then scatter some for the shyer birds and I always make enough to offer the big chickens some too, for a treat.
As to the babies- well, I have one (Little Bear, in fact) who seems to be having respiratory problems. When she breathes, I can see her entire body taking in the breath, as if she is having to use her muscles to help with the process and sometimes makes a bit of a whistle/peep on inspiration. I've looked this up on the all-knowing internet and it doesn't seem like this fits into any of the more common chick ailments. She doesn't have any discharge from her nose and she can stand upright and her poop looks okay. I'm already doing what should be done for any chick not quite right which is to have vitamins and electrolytes and probiotics in their water, to make sure their water is clean, their food is available, the temperature not too hot or cold, no overcrowding, and clean bedding.
This chicks are younger than any chicks I've had in quite a while and I know that there are plenty of things which can affect and infect them before they are even sold although honestly, chickens are among the hardiest of any species as far as I can tell.
All I can do is to watch her (him?) and I can always try giving a little sugar water if things look dire.
I will do my best.
We never did get the rain, the hail, the winds, and the storms that were prophesied and predicted for today. Instead it's been muggy as hell and uncomfortably warm. I took a walk this morning, came home and kicked bamboo, did laundry, tended chickens, read some, and mopped my kitchen and a bathroom.
And worried about Little Bear.
And anything and everything else I could possibly worry about. Anxiety has been a large part of the grand scheme of things today, so much so that I can barely remember my walk although I know I took it because I picked up the mail and have that as proof.
Ah well.
Soon it will be time for bed and I wonder what I'll dream tonight. My dreams are seeming to evolve with all of the dream elements in them. Travel in cities not my own. Babies and children who need tending, and houses so full of rooms and secrets and now elevators and hallways and walkways and people and trash and treasure with grounds outside which need tending and planting and trimming and pools which need cleaning and restoration that I can't begin to figure out where to begin and I am always so tired in these dreams.
So very, very tired and all I want is to crawl into one of the messy beds with sheets that no doubt need washing and fall asleep.
And yet, I never can.
And where the hell is my toothpaste?
I find it strange and also amusing that as my life, my real here-I-am life, becomes simpler and simpler, my dreams become more and more ornate and complicated.
It ain't gonna rain.
I wish it would.
Aw, maybe it will.
I have no control over anything.
Not one damn thing.
And I think and believe that as I grow older and older, this will become more and more the truth.
There's the two babies I got to spend some time with today. Gibson got his hair cut and Maggie did not and you can see that she is still upset about it.
Bless her little curls.
Gibson retained his rat tail. He and Owen are determined not to give those things up. I believe they are letting their freak flags fly.
I long ago realized that hair is not a battle I ever would choose to pick with my own kids. I mean- who am I to say? I got perms in the eighties. And Lily and Jason are fine with letting the boys decide what their hair should look like. Kids deserve some autonomy in their lives seeing as how they don't get a whole lot of it.
Lily got her hair cut short. It's cute as it can be.
Of course we went to Melissa because we love her and she's wonderful and she lets the children play with toys and break them and says, "That's fine. I got them at the Dollar Store," and then she lets Gibson open the candy drawer and pick out a sucker for himself and his brother and then we all kiss and hug and I tell Melissa to come and see my chickens and to give our love to her sweetheart.
Golly. There are just some people that I truly wish I could claim as blood kin and Melissa and her husband John (known here in the blog world as Juancho) are two of them.
As I have said before, no doubt.
Anyway, after the hair cuts we went to Publix and I got bachelorette groceries including salmon and fancy mushrooms and, uh, chicken thighs.
Oh yeah. We're going to have a good time now.
So I guess I'm going to cook a little salmon and some pasta that I'll eat with the arugula pesto I made a while back and I've planted some more cucumber seeds in the garden which involved a tiny bit of weeding and now I have fucking ant bites all over my legs and arms. All of the chickens are fine and dandy and I bought more grapes and BOGO cut-up melon to make them delicious delicately chopped fruit salad with and the big girls laid me four eggs today which hasn't happened in about a year.
We're supposed to get more rain tonight and I hope we do.
Last night Maurice slept with me for the first time in forever but I semi-forced her by carrying her into the bedroom and putting her on the bed and the whole time she was protesting like a governess in a Georgette Heyer novel being carried upstairs by the Nobleman of the Estate, her bosom heaving, beating her little hands on his massive chest and protesting, "No, no! Please my Lord, do not despoil me!" although Maurice only meowed and spat a little and retreated to Mr. Moon's bedside table where she groomed herself thoroughly and then eventually laid down on his side of the bed, as far from me as she could get, but when I woke up in the middle of the night, she was cuddled up next to me and I appreciated her so much.
Oh. I planted those succulents in the hen planter.
Isn't that cheerful?
Yes. Yes it is.
Time to go heat up the skillet and put the water on to boil.
So. We all know that I have fear of all-things-medical to an extremely unhealthy degree. It's only gotten worse over the years and now extends even to getting an eye exam and I've put getting one off as long as I can but I know I need a new prescription and these glasses I'm wearing are so scratched that wearing them is a constant annoyance. So this morning I gathered my girded loins (not literally) and finally called the place I went to last time. I liked the doctor I saw there but I have forgotten his name.
Now, I KNOW I'm still in the records at this place because they call me routinely to tell me that I need to come in and get an eye exam although I never answer the phone and they leave messages. So. I figure that sure, they'll just be able to look me up and get me in to see that guy if he is indeed still with them.
So. As I said. I called.
I pretended to be a regular person calling for an eye exam and said my little spiel about needing one and wanting to see the doctor I'd seen before and forgetting his name and the lady who'd answered the phone said, "Just a moment please," and put me on hold where I was told repeatedly that my call was important to them, etc., with a snappy little song playing in the background and eventually someone answered and I gave my little spiel again and was put on hold again and then finally I heard the sound of a ringing telephone and eventually, the call was picked up but all I could hear was someone in the background sighing heavily and I finally said, "Hello!" and then there was a second of the snappy little song but before I could be told that my call was very important, the call ended to the sound of a busy signal.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
So. I hung up and called again and immediately and without the hassle of going through the whole being put on hold again, got the Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
What the fuck?
All right. I just called again and obviously, they are having a very hard time with calls this morning so I shall try again later.
Now. I wonder how long it will take me to call and arrange that colonoscopy and mammogram I'm supposed to be getting?
You know, I joke about all of this but honestly I am aware that this fear is extremely unhealthy, life-hindering, and takes up a great deal of my time and energy simply trying to deal with it.
I do understand that no one likes to go to the doctor (except for a few individuals who are insane in the opposite direction) but I'm pretty sure this avoidance and anxiety exceed the normal limits.
Aren't I special?
No. I am not. But I wish I were a little less fearful, a little more sensible, and a lot more able to simply do what one must do and accept that these things are a part of life and in fact, can save your life.
For now, at least.
As far as I know, Jim Morrison nailed it when he said that no one gets out of here alive.
And, quick as I posted that last little post, Bob's your uncle and the power came back on.
I was prepared for a long, solitary lonely night of reading with my oh-so-chic! headlamp on.
Which would have been fine, you know, but it's nicer to have electricity and lights and wifi, etc.
I had a lovely time in Apalachicola with my husband at the beautiful Consulate Suites overlooking the river. We've stayed there many times and it's always a treat. I keep telling my husband that instead of building me a big house on our property, he should just build me a house about the size of one of these suites because they have everything you need and feel plenty spacious and light and airy.
They are a perfect mix of old and new and are built within the brick walls of a sponge market, I think. Some sort of market. Apalach has a rich and colorful history and I truly do respect the folks who have incorporated that history into new ventures. The Gibson hotel, shops, restaurants, accommodations, a new brewery, and so forth.
Anyway, we had yet another sweet tiny honeymoon and were silly and loving and had some good meals too. You can't beat that. Last night before our supper we walked down by the river across from where we were staying and looked at a few boats anchored.
Here's one view of a real, live shrimp boat. If you eat wild, Florida, Gulf-caught shrimp, the Donna B may have been the ship they were caught from.
There must have been some sort of installation or something at the little river park because some of the pilings had things written on them.
There were also hope, and love, and caring, and so forth and people would stand on the dock by their favorites and have their pictures taken.
Pretty darn cool.
I left today around midmorning and stopped in Crawfordville, Florida to visit the Ace Home Center where Jessie had seen some fancy chicks a few weeks ago. I love Ace Home Centers. You just can't beat them and I actually bought a few succulents to go into my hen planter as well as four baby Ameraucana chicks, so soft and new and little that my heart just says Aw every time I look at them.
I brought them home in a box and fixed up the bathtub again for babies and they're there now.
I've only named the one in the top picture with the reddish brown head which is more velvety than velvet. I shall call it "Little Bear."
So here I am and we've had one storm already and now it's raining and pouring and thundering and lightening again and Lord knows the power could go out again at any moment. May saw hail at her house and Lily reports that a large tree is down on her dirt road. Mr. Moon's sister's plane was delayed in New Orleans to let the storm pass before she could fly into Panama City to join him in Apalachicola.
All ten of the teen chicks are fine. I took them some lettuce and some fruit and they rushed me like ladies of the night rush sailors on leave.
Last night when we ate dinner, our table had a paper tablecloth on it and I got out my favorite pen and we drew a picture as we waited for our food. I started, drawing a baby chick and then Mr. Moon took the pen and drew a toe.
We are slightly obsessed.
The thunder is cracking loud and close, the rain is blessing the earth with great and good urgency. I live in a place where there is much green and I am, well, grateful.
That's what my front porch looked like a few hours ago.
The garden and grass and bamboo will leap to attention tomorrow and it is springtime in North Florida and tonight I will sleep with the window open above my head and the sound of the rain will lull and soothe and maybe the electricity will stay on and maybe it won't but whatever happens, baby chicks will peep and grow in the bath tub and soon there will be peas to eat from the garden and then green beans and maybe eventually cucumbers and tomatoes, depending on so many factors I can't begin to list them.
I'm home. I miss my husband but I'm home which is the sweetest place to be, especially when the rain falls and the thunder rumbles.
