Why Mop? Why Do Anything?

 

When I got up at the crack of nine-something this morning I'd already gotten that picture from May on our all-included texting group. She'd written, "She's mad I mopped." That's her cat Lupita. 

This motivated me to think about mopping our kitchen but since it was raining and will be for some time most likely, I decided that mopping would be a waste of time because we'd just track in mud and then there we'd be again. 

I can talk myself out of anything. 
Anything I don't want to do, that is.

My motivation is shot. The only things I'm motivated to do these days are laundry, cooking, and watching The Office. Maybe doing a little needlework. Except for not being able to get comfortable lying down on a bed, I'm barely handicapped at all by my ribs anymore. That's the honest truth. They ache some when I wake up and they remind me they're there if I make the wrong move but otherwise, they're hardly bothering me at all. I have been thinking about clearing the garden to get it ready for fall but, oh golly, did I mention it's raining? 

I was grateful to get a text from Lily asking if I could make her some new potholders. A project! I was so excited I got online and ordered some cotton yarn in many colors to crochet with. While I was there I ordered a puzzle for August and Levon and one for Magnolia. 
I felt like I'd done a whole day's work. 
Which in my case today mostly was. My whole day's work. 

Doesn't look like either storm is going to cause us much trouble. I'm glad of that. I hope they don't cause anyone any trouble but that's hardly possible. And of course we never know. 
From the National Hurricane Center's website I grabbed this image of Tropical Storm Laura's supposed path. It's forecast to turn into a hurricane when it gets into the gulf but it doesn't look like it's going to one of those horror shows of a hurricane. Still, even a tropical storm can cause great damage with its winds and rains. 

Poor Cuba. They get 'em all. And it would appear that Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama are going to suffer. Just what they need, right? 

As to now-named Tropical Storm Marco, this is what it looks like. 

And I now see that the forecast on that has changed making it look more dangerous than it did before and guess what? It's going to land in the same places as Laura does. 

It's unheard of for two hurricanes to be in the gulf at the same time. Somehow though, this does not surprise me. It's still 2020, right? 

Obviously, I have nothing really to say. Life in Lloyd is being lived. Cat life, bird life, chicken life, squirrel life, possum life, all-the-four-legged-critters life, plant life, insect life, spider life, human life. We mostly try to stay out of each others' ways although we do interact sometimes. Have you ever bounced off a golden orb weaver's web? 

It's cool tonight, relatively, only 76 degrees out on the porch. I'll try again tonight to see if I can sleep in the bed. One of these days it is going to happen. 

Meanwhile, I'm going to go cook some green beans and potatoes. We're almost to the end of the fresh ones. It's been a great run. 

Y'all take care. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

 

Here's sweet Maurice with her Jack-scarred face. She's been spending most of her time in a new place which is on a pillow on a buckwheat cushion on the floor of the Glen Den. The buckwheat cushion may or may not be a meditation cushion and which I may or may not know how it got here. I think someone told me but I've forgotten. I certainly never bought it. 
Jack has been annoying the crap out of me lately. Not only does he beat up Maurice every chance he gets but he also has taken to sleeping right outside the Glen Den so that he can attempt to kill her if she should make the mistake of leaving the room to eat or go outside to attend to her toilette. And last night he insisted on sleeping with me in the chair and woke me up about fifty times by moving or grooming or whatever the hell he was doing. I pushed him off a few times but he got right back up and it's hard to argue with a ten thousand pound cat (that is exactly what he weighs at night) who has toe daggers. 

Okay. That was fascinating. 

August and Levon were supposed to spend the night tonight but in a bizarre twist of fate Vergil got sick this week and although he is fine now, he got tested for Covid of course and Jessie wants to wait until his results come back. To be honest, it would be easier for me if I was able to sleep in the bed while they're here instead of the chair for a myriad of reasons. This is disappointing but we are all getting good at patience. 

What else? 
Not much. I watched Joe Biden's speech last night and in my heart I think he's truly a decent man. As would anyone who's spent an entire lifetime in government, he's made some mistakes but I do think he's evolved. Also- if there were truly any real scandal about the man it would have been revealed by now. A little plagiarism, a tendency to stand a little too close to people, a rather advanced age- these are all nothing compared to what we're dealing with now. I love the fact that although he's a very practicing Catholic, he's a staunch supporter of a woman's right to choose and I believe he came out before Obama as being a supporter of same-sex marriage. And he obviously adores his wife, the amazing Dr. Jill Biden, and family and he's been through enough tragedy to give him incredible, deep, and true compassion. 
Also, he's not Trump. And that is all that really matters to me right now. And Kamala Harris is not Mike Pence. To be quite honest, I think that they could have one of the best administrations ever if things go well. 
I will not lie to you though- I am scared to death that we won't get the chance to see. And if Trump is elected for a second term, there will be absolutely no stopping him. It does seem as if the winds of change are blowing with Republicans coming forward and announcing their support of Biden and with former staff members doing the same. Or at least the ones who haven't been arrested. 

On to hurricanes. Looks like the first storm to get close is going to pass right over Cozumel before it gets to our area if indeed it does which it may not. The folks in Cozumel are predicting just a tropical storm with some rain and not very high winds. It'll be there by tomorrow. That one doesn't even have a name yet and is still a tropical depression. The one following that is called Laura and is a tropical storm and that one has more of a potential to affect us and to develop into hurricane status. This probably means nothing to most of you and there's no reason it should. If you live in Ohio, there is absolutely no need to clutter up your brain with the difference between tropical depressions, tropical storms, and hurricanes. I'll just let you know if I personally am in danger because it's all about me. Right? 

Wrong. 
And yet, we all cannot help but see the world through the lens of our own eyes. 
How fucking profound was that? 

I better go pickle some onions and cabbage to go on our black beans. There will be avocados too. I'm pretty excited. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Random Thoughts And Observations

 

I have been the spaciest of space queens today. I've had a lot on my mind as we all do but there's really no good excuse for this level of forgetfulness. The first thing I did was to walk to the post office forgetting to take the letters that I needed to mail. I got to the post office, patted my pockets knowing that I'd forgotten, sighed and came home. Anyway, I got that picture of some of the firespike I've rooted and transplanted to the front yard over the years. It should have been blooming way before now but the amount of shade it gets from the oaks is overwhelming. Behind it you can see the Canary Island date palm, also known as Killer Palm which I still haven't done anything about. I also got a nice picture of the beauty berry, now full and ripe. 

That is truly one of my favorite colors. Believe it or not, I can remember a book from my early childhood that had bunny rabbits in it and one of them was drawing with a crayon of that color and I felt compelled to study that page over and over. Who knows why? And why do I remember it? 

This relates somewhat to another question I have been pondering lately about biographies. Of course, my reading of the two books about Walter Anderson have had a lot to do with that. My question is this- how can anyone, even a wife or a child know what truly motivated a person? I ask this because even though I write here every day and discuss my feelings, my day-to-day life, my marriage, my relationship with my children and with the world in general, there is so much more that I do not write about and much of that which I don't even talk to anyone about. Or if I do, perhaps just one or two people. I doubt that any human expresses their true feelings to a great many people all of the time and trying to tease out the meaning and motivation of a life from perceived actions and even writings and conversations seems horribly inadequate. 

The books about Anderson are leaving me feeling as if only the very tip of the iceberg of who he was and how he became the artist he was and what he thought have been revealed. And this is not to say that I find him the most fascinating subject I've ever read about. But there is obviously so much more than what even his wife knew. 

And then I think of all of the books that have been written about the famous from Abe Lincoln to Hitler to Virginia Wolfe to the Beatles and how so many "facts" have been proclaimed which we have come to accept as truth and I can't help but wonder how many of those facts are based on the reality of the life of the subject and how many are merely assumed by the author?

And of course I'm not speaking here of facts like who was born here and who was educated there or lists of siblings and parents and grandparents. I'm talking about (and I'm going to use this word again) motivations. 

Obviously memoir is more to be trusted along with autobiographies but even there- see above about what I write and don't write. How can any of us help but try to present ourselves in a decent light? 

Well, maybe not Charles Bukowski but you know what I mean. 

Okay. That was a bit of a detour but it's what I've been thinking about. 

Besides going to the post office today I went to Costco and Publix again. There was a guy in Costco with his mask pulled down beneath his mouth who had a dog on a leash who did not resemble a service animal in any way and the guy was white, tall, with an athletic build and he appeared to be someone who's probably gone to college. In short, not your regular Trump supporter/Covid conspiracy theorist-looking guy. He had two nice-looking kids with him, one at least over 21 because I saw her go into the liquor store, and one who could have been in high school or college. They were masked. 

I approached an employee and asked him about the situation and he said, "The guy with the dog?" 

"Yeah," I said.

"Someone's been sent to speak to him."

I saw then that the man's mask was up where it should be and I'd not heard any strong words so I guess he didn't fight the rule. 

"He's special," I told the employee in a rather Church-Lady tone of voice.

This seemed to amuse him greatly. 

"Yeah," he laughed. "He's special." 

Oh, to be so entitled. 

And that's about it. I finished up mending the monkey doll and started in on trying to save a very old dress of mine which I've stitched and re-stitched and now am going to patch because the fabric is simply threads in some places. I love this dress and refuse to lose it. I have a tooth that's bothering me more than I'd like to admit, my ribs feel pretty good, I dreamed last night that I was doing stand-up comedy but instead of being on a stage, I was on the ground and walking around a huge tower of balconies filled with people, trying to make myself heard by all. I was not very funny. 

Mr. Moon has set a critter trap for a possum who is living under our house and we know it's a possum because Glen set up a trail camera by the giant hole under the steps to the side porch. He left the camera up and there was no possum caught last night but he did manage to catch a bit of video of an unknown cat, sticking his/her head into the trap to sniff the bait (cat food and shrimp) and then backing off and leaving. If we do catch the possum, she (I feel certain it's a she) will be relocated. And no, not in heaven. In another actual place a few miles away.

God only knows what goes on around here after dark. 

One of the barred rock hens is pecking away right beside the porch and I can't remember her name. 

See? I told you I am the spaciest of space queens. 

Oh yeah. Alice. 

Phew.

I guess as long as I remember my name and my husband's name and the kids' and grandkids' names and how to get home from Publix and how to cook, I'm sort of okay. I remember when I used to be smart. 

Those were the days. 

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. I watched Elizabeth Warren, Obama, and Kamala Harris speak last night. Although all of the speeches were terrific, my favorite line of the evening belonged to Ms. Harris when she said, "I know a predator when I see one," and there was a pause, a beat, before she went on. 

I cackled out loud. 

But I bet she does. And I do too.

P.P.S. Meanwhile, this is going on. 

Of course the "cone of uncertainty" is uncertain. 

But really? Really? 

As I said yesterday, this is Florida in August. And there ain't a thing I can do about it. 

May Your Devices Always Pair Successfully

 

Here's a pretty decent picture showing the tininess of little Miss Tweety. The hen beside her (Grace? Robin? Eggy Nancy?) is a regular sized hen. She's like a stork canary. I swear. Either she's still not laying or else she's hiding what must be her miniature eggs. A lot of the hens aren't laying yet either. I assume. I have sixteen hens and I'm only getting from three to five eggs a day. The age at which they start laying depends a lot on what breed they are but of course I know nothing about the particulars. Neither Darla or Dottie have begun laying again after their broodings but I have noticed a lot of white feathers about and so I suppose the fall molting has begun. Even Liberace has lost a few of his pretty tail feathers. 

So today was just...meh. 
A day. I did do one thing that brought me a modicum of happiness. About a week ago Mr. Moon lost his earbuds and I offered him an old wireless set of mine. I'd thought it was broken and had bought a new set and then I figured out how to fix my old set so I had that as an extra. The problem came when he tried to pair his phone with it. The brand of both the extras and the ones I've been using was the same although different models and I have no idea if this was part of our problem or what but we just could not get his phone to recognize the ones I wanted to lend him and in the midst of the attempted pairing, somehow my phone would only pair with the old headset and his would only pair with my newer buds. 
In short- insane.
And we tried everything up to and including wiping our network preferences off our phones and reinstalling them. Eventually we just settled for him with my newer buds and me with the old set. Which didn't really make either of us happy. He finally gave me back the newer ones saying that they did not fit his ears and I was determined to try and get my phone to recognize and pair with them again because they fit my ears perfectly. 
This became my new hobby for a few days. I'd spend a half hour or so every day trying to figure out what was going on and how to make it work by googling and trying different remedies. Finally today I did the whole resetting of the network preferences again and then the earbuds did indeed and cheerfully tell me that they had successfully connected to my phone but my phone had obviously not been made aware of that fact and I sighed and put the earbuds back into their clever little charging pack and gave up and then thought I'd try one more thing and by god, the damn things connected as soon as I turned them on. 
I felt like I'd solved the Houston-We-Have-A-Problem problem even though I have no idea how I did it. 

Beyond somehow engendering that stroke of luck, I've cleaned the hen house and given the nests all new, fresh, fluffy straw which the chooks will have pooped up by tomorrow morning. And done laundry. 

We're getting some rain right now and we got some last night. The thunder and lightening were so close and heavy that the house shook. Between that and two different cats trying to access my chair to sleep with me causing great hissing and growling and the knocking down of random items to crash on the floor, I didn't get the best night's sleep. Oh well. Maybe tonight will be better. 

I'm still thinking of how August demonstrated to me yesterday how to safely climb my stairs. He was under the impression that I'd fallen on the inside stairs and not the back steps. He showed me how to hold on to the balusters very carefully and how to climb very slowly. I was grateful even though that wasn't where I'd fallen. When I explained this he wanted me to re-enact the fall so that he could see how it happened. I showed him and he is most impressed with the new anti-slip strips that Mr. Moon has installed. But I'll never forget how he slowly climbed those stairs, holding on tightly, as he not only demonstrated but told me, doing the best that he could to prevent his old Mer from falling again. 

I think that I've missed hearing what the grandchildren have to say almost as much as I've missed kissing and hugging them. Or maybe even more. These conversations are hard to have when you're outside in the 90 plus degree heat battling mosquitoes, and arise far more organically while you're doing other things together. I have always felt that children have a great deal to say and it has been my experience that indeed they do and it is edifying and charming to hear exactly what it is they want to tell me. I take them quite seriously unless they're obviously trying to be funny and then I feel free to laugh. That, too, can be interesting- to hear what it is that they think is amusing. One of the most beautiful things in the world is watching a child's sense of humor develop. 

All right. Time to make supper. 

Oh Lord. Another rolling boom of thunder just shook our foundations. 

This is Florida in August. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Finally

 

August Glinden and Curtis Glinden

The hugging and kissing drought ended today for us and two of our grandchildren and their mama. I think that picture says more than I could ever manage. 

And then this one. 

My heart could have burst and I hugged them both and my daughter too but I think it almost meant more to me to see Boppy hugging our darlings. I can't explain it but it's one of those things involving love and joy and how we don't really understand how all of this works but luckily, we don't have to understand it. We just accept it and are grateful. 

But oh! To feel their smooth skin, their soft hair. It was heaven. 

Now. If only I could get my hands on Lily and Owen and Gibson and Magnolia June along with May and Michael and Hank and Rachel. 

Slowly, one day, this will be a reality. 

Jessie called this morning. She'd gotten a test for Covid after her last shift at work and the results came back this morning. 

Negative. And the next thing you know, Boppy is canceling his plans to finish up work at Hank and Rachel's and I'm on the phone with Jessie telling her what leftovers I had that we could make our lunches with. 

We wanted to go vote before they came out and so we did. 

That turned out to be a little more difficult than we thought it would be. I had read that if we had requested ballots but wanted to go vote in person instead of voting by mail, we just had to show up and vote. Turns out that unless you take your unmailed ballots with you to the polls, it's a bit of a process to prove you didn't send them in, thus voting twice. We hadn't brought ours in and Mr. Moon had thrown his away and on the way to vote we'd taken the trash to the dump. 

Sigh.

We got back in the car and came home and got my ballot and then back to the dump where Mr. Moon found our bag and opened it and got his ballot. 

And thus, we got to vote. 

We even got to keep the pens that we marked our ballots with! When we walked out of the church where we vote, our hands freshly sanitized and with our I Voted! stickers, I said, "Wow! A free pen! What a great country!"

I sort of meant it. During these times you have to take what you can get that makes you happy about the government and today, a free pen was that thing. 

Well, that and voting. And watching some of Michelle Obama's speech from last night. 

And then Jessie and the boys showed up. August ran to the door and his grandfather opened it and scooped that boy up and hugged him hard. I had to settle for a gentle hug because of my ribs but I snuck in a few kisses too. And then it was Levon's turn and he wasn't quite as sure about the whole deal but he let us hug and kiss him and then both boys ran off to find the things they love most about Mer and Boppie's house. Books and a dump truck and puzzles and all kinds of things they haven't been able to play with for so long. Before too long I was reading The Jolly Christmas Postman to August and he was leaning against me with every one of his molecules and I was in heaven. While we played with the children, Jessie made us all a lunch out of the leftovers and we ate on the porch. 

Together. 

Within touching distance. 

Oh, it was sweet. 

And then the best part- the boys got to play Wii games with their grandfather. 

I doubt they could have been happier. 

We talked about plans for them to spend the night this weekend. This will be Levon's first overnight with us. We have the menu figured out- chicken and dumplings and then, when they wake up, pancakes and bacon! What a surprise. 

Fairly soon, it was time for them to go. Levon needed a nap and old Mer still doesn't have a whole lot of energy. In order to bribe them away from the Glen Den with the Wii and the toys, I made them bowls of ice cream to eat, each with three dark chocolate M&M's from their grandfather's stash. 

They were thrilled. 

August's ice cream smile.

Levon's ice cream smile. 

There was a lot of talk about love today. Glen asks August frequently- who loves you?

The answer, of course, is Mermer and Boppie. While they were eating ice cream I asked August, "So, do you think that Mer loves you as much as Boppie does?"

And the boy, with his mouth full of ice cream said, "Definitely not."

This belief is based on the fact that Boppie lets him watch TV. 

Sigh again. 

It's okay. I know the truth. And honestly- so does he. 

When they went into their car seats to leave, we were able to kiss them on their cheeks instead of just their toes but they still wanted toe bites and toe kisses. I told them that next time I am going to get out the ketchup to put on their toes before I kiss them. I will eat their toes like French fries. 

"That's funny," Levon said. "To put ketchup on my toes."

I can't believe how well he's talking. He's full of words and is also quick to correct us if he feels that we've said something in error. He's not even three yet! Also, he can say his A-B-C's. 

Jessie reported that when Levon woke up from his nap the first thing he said was, "Boppy?" 

It's been a good day. 

It's been a very good day. A day I've been looking forward to since March 17th which was the last time before today that I got to hug and kiss them. 

Bless our hearts. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Lazy Day

 

And here we have Miss Pecky who is proving her name by eating beans directly from the vine as she perches on the fence post of the garden. She is welcome to eat all of the beans she wants but when my lettuces and greens have been planted and have started coming up, I am going to be most unhappy if she and her sisters go after them. 

Pinto and Eggy Nancy

Chickens can definitely fly but they don't seem to realize it until they do it and once they've done it in order to fulfill a goal, they seem to remember. And oh, how they love sweet baby collards! 

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I was tired but sleep was elusive and then, after I did surrender to it, I woke up around three and was awake until after four. Jack was with me but he didn't really bother me. I don't know what was keeping me awake. My ribs did ache and I think I've done too much the last few days. Or at least, too much of the wrong things. 
Same-same?
I have no idea. 
But today I have done very little. I've been tired and so I've rested and shelled the last of the peas that Mr. Moon picked yesterday. I've got them in a pot now with the ham bone from Easter which I pulled from the freezer this morning. 

There are two different types of field peas there and don't ask me what they are. I'm not sure. The brown ones are the ones that had dried on the vine but they'll plump back up and will be as good as the green ones. It's going to be a simple meal. I started a loaf of sourdough yesterday and it's almost finished with its final rise and so there will be that and a salad and that is enough. 

The wild yeast of Lloyd is still raising up bread on its mighty shoulders.

Mr. Moon's been gone all day to do some work at Hank and Rachel's. There was screening to fix on their back porch and he wanted to pressure wash the place. I'm sure he'll be exhausted when he gets home but he can sit in his chair until bedtime when he will generously and graciously give it up to me. It's still seems very odd to me to sleep in a different room from him. We can see each other's lights from windows and I know when he's turned his off to go to sleep. I feel like I'm a million miles away rather than just a few rooms away and still, every time I wake up I have to take a second to orient myself as to where I am and where he is. I don't like this. I don't like it at all but it seems necessary. 

And now he's home. The oven is heating up to receive the bread. The field peas are simmering nicely. I love meals that are served in bowls with bread on a plate beside them. 

Tomorrow we will put on our masks and go vote in the primary at the local Baptist church. 
I will NOT be voting for Karen Purser. 
Trust me. 
I'm pretty sure that God told me not to. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Living, Waiting, Breathing, Being

 Summer is when my hands smell of basil and garlic which seem to go into every meal that I can reasonably put them in. Summer is when the air grows heavy with the wanting of rain every late afternoon. Summer is when I think of the river and the kids swinging out over it on the rope hanging from a cypress tree, and then dropping into that miracle of cold glory. Summer is when I think of Roseland with the mangos fat and sweet on the trees and the bamboo knocking its hollow song when the afternoon storm comes in. Summer is when I remember my summers at the beach with Lily and Jessie in our tiny cement apartment with its yard of rocks and sandspurs, the smell of sunscreen and Raspberry Crystal Light and shrimp and the tiny periwinkles we'd gather and I'd steam open to make a broth with that turned into a soup with potatoes and onions and celery and how we'd see the dolphins swimming south every morning and then back north every sunset and my friend Mary Lane visited me and we floated in the warm salty water, our bodies bare to the moon and the dunes. Summer is when there is always a jar or vase of zinnias in the hallway. Summer is when we try to figure out which watermelon is sweetest by thumping them all and really, having no idea what we're listening for. Summer is when the chickens devour whatever watermelon is left on the rinds, no matter the sweetness or not of the fruit. Summer is the wild grapes and the beauty berry and the field peas swelling with their riches. Summer is when the butterfly ginger blooms and when this one blooms, I think of Kathleen who grew everything and who gave this plant to me. 

Summer is when the pine cone lilies appear and take their time to turn crimson. 

Summer is when we keep our eyes on the Atlantic, the Gulf, wary and waiting for storms to form and move our way. Summer is when we think that fall will never come until one day we go outside and the air has changed the tiniest iota that no one who hasn't lived here for years and years would ever notice. 

But we do. 

A little dryer. And the light is a little sharper. And the breath comes a little more freely. And we know the hurricane lilies will be popping up soon like crazy enchanted things planted by crazy enchanted beings under a full moon. 

That's what it's been like here today. I've done little besides a crossword and I've called Mary Lane because it is her birthday, and there may have been a little loving and a lot of remembering of people that my heart misses like an old dog misses a beloved companion but does not quite understand where they have gone. 

My husband picked another basket of field peas and is sitting in his chair right now shelling them, watching a golf game on TV- the only sport that appears to be happening in this time of pandemic. He is happy. 

I am happy. 

Jack slept with me in the chair last night, all night. At first he lay beside me which was good but then he decided to lay on top of me which was not so good because he is heavy and his weight put some pressure on the ribs but I couldn't bear to shoo him away. He seems so relieved not to have fleas. I tried to sleep in the bed but after about twenty minutes I gave up. It still hurts some to try to bedsleep and the chair is still so comfortable. 

That is how it is here in Lloyd today. The middle of August already. The air is still tonight. The hurricane lilies are biding their time until the house lights go down and the curtain is pulled and the stage is lit for their performance.

My hands smell of basil but soon they will smell of garlic too. 

It is still summer. 

Love...Ms. Moon

I Think I Was Supposed To Figure This Out A Long Time Ago

 Well, once again I don't have any pictures and today's excuse is that I didn't do anything that was worth recording for posterity. I really expected to be worn out and sore this morning and I was a little sore but not much and I haven't felt incredibly energetic but I haven't felt bad at all. 
In fact, I'm thinking that within a week I will have no excuse to slack off at all. Which will once again lead me to wonder

WHAT THE HELL I'M DOING WITH MY LIFE?

I have no idea. Healing was such a full time occupation. And then if I did manage to throw a meal together or sweep a floor I felt like I deserved a crown or at least a prize from a Cracker Jack box or maybe a box of Cracker Jacks. Something. And I'm certainly not complaining about healing up and feeling better. I'm still quite aware of how lucky I am not to have broken anything beyond ribs or have had a punctured necessary organ or even unnecessary organ which would have been internally messy and also, the memory of that fall and the resulting crunch of my ribs rubbing together has not faded and does not make me want to ever experience anything like that again. So all-in-all, I am so happy to feel this good in so short a time but honestly- what am I going to do with my life? 
There is going to be more contact and interaction with Jessie's family because she's quit working for now so that they can quarantine more safely and we can all be in the same bubble. I think that at this point, Vergil would probably do anything to have us keep those boys for a night or two so that he and Jessie can do whatever it is that couples do when their children are with the grandparents. 
(Truthfully, I remember exactly what couples can do when the children are under the care of someone else and I look back on those days with great fondness. So to speak.) 
So there will be that. And what a joy it will be to have both little guys back in our house, our lives again. I only wish that the same were going to be true with the other three grandchildren but there is no way that Lily's family can quarantine as safely because of the jobs their parents have which are necessary and, yes, essential. We will have to just be patient there. 

The garden will soon need clearing and replanting for fall and that will be a project. I could, I suppose, do some real housecleaning. 
Oh god no. 
Today Mr. Moon vacuumed the entire house for fleas which is something I never do. Jessie gave us a vacuum cleaner that she lost patience with and I've never so much as touched the thing. Mr. Moon is a saint. We've had some bad flea infestations and they love him. They do not seem to even notice I'm a warm-blooded mammal which is great for me but it won't be for the kids and it makes my husband crazy. He was going to spray after the vacuuming but instead, is trying a dish soap in water with a light above it remedy. 
I do not have a great deal of faith in that but why not start there before we poison our house? We did give Jack a pill yesterday for fleas and put a collar on him, both of which Glen got at the feed store where the products are for country animals and not pampered prince and princess pets and for awhile there I thought we'd killed the poor cat but he seems fine now. He did disappear for a day and before he left, I observed him acting, um, weird. The mister insists that was just his reaction to the fleas jumping off but whatever. We just managed to get one of the flea collars on Maurice and I hope it doesn't kill her. Oh, the joys of rural living! 
All right. How did I get from needing to find a purpose in life to flea collars? 
I suppose this is my special gift- the gift of rambling. 

Here's a picture of Jack that I took about five minutes ago. 

He's good. He's lovely. He's purring. A little neurotoxic poisoning won't hurt him!

But let's face it- I don't know what I'm going to do with my life now that I've almost completely accomplished (I think) the knitting together of my rib bones. There's nothing to pickle or preserve at the moment. I do have to start walking again. Not too far right away, but I need to make that a priority.
Should I take up macrame? 
I think not. 
Oh, I'll think of something. 

Meanwhile, besides vacuuming, Mr. Moon also spray-washed the mildew off the back steps so that no one does a repeat of my fall. 

Mildew free! And he's going to apply non-skid strips to them too. He seems to have no problem figuring out what to do with his life. 

At the moment, I better go make supper. There's always cooking. 

Take care, y'all. Be safe. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Shopping Accomplished Plus Decore Tips

 

I have taken no pictures today so I just snapped that one. You may have seen the lovely couple before. They hang on my porch wall above the table where I write and they were purchased at a Goodwill many years ago. Thus, the raggedyness of them. And dustiness. The little man under the Spanish lady's arm could be interpreted as her son or, alternatively, a very small dancing partner. 

He does have a very neat mustache. He is suave. And debonair. 

I am not sure when I began hanging strange things on the walls but it's now definitely a favorite decorating method of mine. Of course some things are made to hang on walls. Decorative plates, pictures, mirrors, cute and/or artistic signs. I just take it all a step further with dolls and rooting plants and pretty boxes, seashells, aprons, maybe a basket or two. I mean- why not? It's my house. I can do what pleases me and I have come to realize that there are no wall-police who will come and arrest you and take you to bad-wall-hanging-objects jail. 

Thank god.

I did go shopping. I got all worked up about it this morning. I mean SERIOUSLY worked up. And then it poured rain. And then it quit. And I finally got in the car with my list and hand sanitizer and spray alcohol and so on and so forth and drove to Costco first because that comes first when I drive into town on the back roads rather than the interstate. 

At first I was overwhelmed because I haven't seen that many people at once in almost a month. Then I realized that I had a list and I knew where everything was and I could just quickly go from one item to the next and then check out. Which I did. 

And the I went to Publix which was more of a situation because there was a lot more on that list than on the one I had for Costco and things that weren't on the list but that I needed like vegetables other than green beans and eggplant and banana peppers and I usually come up with meal ideas when I am in the store but today I sucked at that. There was not too much random wandering though. I didn't have the energy for that sort of frolic. 

So I got what I got and it was way too much anyway and then I came home and putting it all away took about an hour and THEN I finished up a load of laundry and started another and then another and that's in the dryer now. I made up the bed with clean sheets and I also washed my chair sheet and pillowcases and I have a feeling that tonight is not going to be the night I move back to the bed. The ribs are a bit achy. 

I gathered four pretty eggs, three brown from different hens and one green. It's about time for me to make a quiche. Or a custard. Or something extremely eggy. 

I will be interested to see how I feel tomorrow. Although I am understandably tired right now it's not so bad and I'm glad of that. I was under the mistaken impression that it has been four weeks since I broke my ribs but when looking at a calendar, I realize it's been three weeks and two days. It's sort of amazing, really, how quickly things have changed. I've gone from complete agony to...not so bad. But if I have to sit in the chair tomorrow all day long then I will. And that's that. 

Okay. Let me talk a minute about the thing that Donald Orange Intestine Trump is doing right now that is making me crazy with rage. I know that he's up to all sorts of fuckery but his actions to destroy the postal system are simply unbelievable. How can he do this? Don't we have three separate branches of government? When did we become a dictatorship? Why are we allowing it to happen? Who is the person or who are the persons who are supposed to deal with things like this? It's so patently obvious that he's trying to suppress voting and he's practically admitted that. The postal system is a fucking sacred American institution! 

As is voting, by the way. 

I don't understand how this man, this fool, this jackass, this asshat, this cheat, this pretend-president, this sorry excuse for a human being is getting away with this. 

Besides that, if he were halfway normal he'd be aware that his actions in this regard make him look afraid and cowardly and weak. 

Oh, god, I hate him. 

Anyway, I need to go make supper. 

Happy Friday, y'all. I'm having a martini. With pickled green beans. I wish that could cool my rage but there aren't enough martinis in the world for that to happen. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Just Stuff

 

Well, as these things go, today was a bit rough. I wasn't in a great deal of pain, I just didn't have much energy. I keep thinking about the fact that I am going to have to go to town soon to grocery shop and there is really no reason why I shouldn't. Mr. Moon's been doing a great job and I've been using up what we have in the freezers and garden but there are certain things that I need in the pantry and refrigerator and it's just too hard to explain to him which type of mozzarella I buy and where the Shake'n'Bake is and which sort of flour and, and, and...
Plus- the longer I stay hunkered and huddled in Lloyd, the harder it's going to be to leave and I really, really do not want to develop a case of full-blown agoraphobia and it's already way too easy for me to just stay right here tied to my little piece of property, my house, my chickens, my cats, my chair (his chair), my three dresses and my garden. 

Physically, I can drive to town and shop. That's really not the issue. Yeah, it'll wear me out but who doesn't it wear out to shop these days? Publix and Costco, baby. I can do it. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

We shall see. 

Meanwhile, I just did the little things today. I made about the eighth batch of pandemic pimento cheese for my husband. Did a load of clothes. Swept the kitchen which yielded about a half pound of black, gritty Lloyd dirt. And then because I can't and won't waste any of those green beans, I went out and picked another basketful. There are fewer now by far and if I get another whole basketful I'll be surprised. Last night I made a green bean salad with a dijon and shallot and garlic vinaigrette which is our favorite way to eat them and it was so good that I am loath to waste a fresh bean. The zebra-winged butterflies are drunk on zinnia pollen right now (or is it nectar) and at one point I saw four feasting or sipping on a patch of the flowers that are still blooming nicely. 

There are only three in this picture and one of them is hard to see but trust me- there were four. 

Here's what I picked today. 

Well, I didn't pick the eggs. It was more like I plucked them. 

Then I sat my old-lady ass on the couch and snapped those beans. The garden has been such a joy this summer. 

So of course while I was snapping, I was watching "The Office" and I'm now into the season where Kathy Bates plays a woman named Jo Bennet who is the head of the company that buys out Dunder Mifflin and she lives in Tallahassee. Tallahassee is a place name that authors and screenwriters and TV writers seem to love. It just sounds so...ridiculous? I don't know. But it's used far more than you'd think. And generally, it's the butt of a sort of joke about the south and our...ridiculousness?... and although I agree on some levels it still hurts my heart a little bit. I never, ever planned on living in Tallahassee (or even as nearby as I do now) and yet, I moved here in 1974 and here I am, rooted as deeply as one of my oak trees. Four kids and five grandkids will do that to you. 

But I love the way Ms. Bates plays a Tallahassee business woman. She's such an amazing actor. She doesn't play Jo as a cliche but gives her a great deal of depth. And her accent isn't completely terrible. 

Oh Lord. This is now my life- reviewing the performance of an actor on a ten-year old TV show. 

So that's about it. I swear I am going to try to sleep in the bed tomorrow night. Last night, as an experiment, I laid for awhile on first my injured side and then my un-injured side and both were sort of okay. And this too, is my life right now- talking about my sleep positions. 

Yeah. That's enough of THAT. 

Oh! Here's a picture that Jessie sent today of her boys on a hike. 

They are making good use of some of Maggie's hand-me-downs. I just love how they pick out exactly what they want to wear without any fear of criticism about wearing "girl" clothes. And Jessie said that this morning Vergil told the boys that they looked very nice today. What a good daddy he is! 

Why should girls get all the fun and fancies? 

No reason at all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Another Step Forward

 

I had an inkling this would be a good day when that picture came up in my Facebook memories. It was my most-loved picture of 2016 and it is one of my own personal most loved pictures ever. Remember when Magnolia June was a little squishy love of a woman baby? Look at those teeth in that grin of hers. Look at those perfect little feet and starfish hands. And Lily always dressed her like a dolly, so happy after dressing Owen and Gibson in their denims and khakis to have fun with lace and bows and ruffles and ribbons and pretty prints. Of course boys can wear all of those things too and of course girls can wear denims and khakis but Lily is a bit traditional in her love of what we call girly things. She always has been. And say what you will- Maggie has always worn everything with a joyful insouciance, from her brothers' underwear to rainbow ribbons in her hair. Or both. At the same time. She is still our beautiful woman-baby, her head now covered in curls that, when wet, hang down to her butt and when dry, surround her beautiful face like a golden halo or a power source or a fortie's movie goddess's. 
There is no one like her. 

And it has been a good day. I did not fuck around but took some Ibuprofen this morning and my energy has been excellent and my pain has been almost non-existent unless I've done something I shouldn't. I took another small walk this morning and it felt fine. 

The resurrection fern on the live oak limbs is fully and gloriously unfurled now from all the rain. I love that stuff. When it's dry it shrivels up and becomes brown and yellow and almost unnoticeable but the rain does indeed resurrect it and it comes back to life to decorate the limbs of the trees. It is heavy though, and sometimes old limbs fall from the weight of it but that's just nature's pruning. 

I ended my two-block walk at the post office, of course. For those of you who have not been reading here long, our post office is in a very old train station from back in the days when Lloyd had a hotel that served a fine chicken dinner. 

I collected our mail and walked on home, and have had an almost normal day. There was some watching of "The Office" but I was either shelling peas or snapping beans while I watched. 

So that's it. I see that the right-wing media has already started its attack campaign against Kamala Harris but I think the woman can handle it. No. I know she can handle it. 
Not to be crude but I think she's about to show a whole lot of men who seem to have put their balls in their sock drawers for safe-keeping what courage and strength really is. 

I never said I was a lady. 
I'm just a woman. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Not At My Best

 

Last night's pizza turned out wonderfully well. I was proud of it and only wished that I had some arugula to chop and put on top of it when it was done but the bugs have taken over what small amounts of arugula I have growing and that is just the way it is. The fresh basil had to do. 
I'm posting a picture of the pizza because if I posted a picture of what today has been like it would mostly look like this.

My ribs have decided that they wanted to hurt again today and I have had no energy and so I've been in that chair a good part of today, watching The Office and feeling useless again. I managed two loads of laundry and this afternoon I did make my husband a peach cobbler because I have been promising him I would and he even bought vanilla ice cream in preparation. 

Those Costco peaches have turned out to be a very fine thing, providing us with plenty of the fresh fruit and also this cobbler. It's the recipe that has been passed down for generations in southern kitchens and is sort of a sin. It's basically the recipe that Truvie gives in Steel Magnolias wherein she finishes it off by saying, "And I always put ice cream on top to cut the sweet."
Thus, the ice cream. I did use some brown sugar and also pecans which are not traditional but Joanne inspired me with her peach praline crostata today. This is basically a cake wherein you melt the butter in the baking dish, mix up self-rising flour, milk, and sugar, pour that over the butter without mixing it, then spoon the peaches cooked in sugar and water over the top. When it bakes it somehow comes together in a magical alchemy of cake and fruit. It's good with berries mixed in with the peaches, too. 

It rained this afternoon and is raining still. A good, hard downpour with thunder and lightening, turning into a sweet, slow drizzle. Mr. Moon was twenty miles away doing tractor stuff and said that it barely sprinkled there. I am starting to wonder if coming-rain affects my pain level. I suppose it very well could. 
So many mysteries. 
While it was raining hard I turned off the TV and took off my glasses and dozed on and off for awhile. I seem to sleep so much. I think that's probably good. When I'm sleeping I'm not doing anything to fuck up my ribs like bending way over and reaching into the pot cabinet. 
Sigh.
One would think I'd have figured a few things out by this point. 

So. Joe Biden has picked Kamala Harris to be his running mate. I'm seeing lots of complaints on FaceBook about how she's not progressive enough and of course, Biden isn't progressive enough, and I really just do not understand this. At this point, anyone who isn't Donald Trump or Mike Pence is fine with me. Is there a perfect candidate? 
Hell no.
We're not getting married here, people. We're choosing two people to replace the least qualified president in this nation's history and his psycho sidekick. A president who can't open his mouth without lying, who is a Grade A sociopathic narcissist, who will do anything within his power to get reelected including letting the Russians get away with murder (literally), who is a racist, who has no respect for woman and judges them solely on their looks, who appears to be homophobic, transphobic, and every-other-type of phobic a human can be, who has never worked a real day in his life, who has cheated at every enterprise he's ever been involved in, who doesn't give a flying fuck about the environment or the disabled or, well, have any type of human decency. On top of that the man is bragging because he passed a test given to people with suspected dementia. And of course has managed to allow over 160,000 people to die of Covid. And there is so much more. So. Much. More.
So Biden and Harris aren't progressive enough?
Do I care? 
Fuck no. I love them both to pieces. 

But that's just me. 

I'm going to go cook some grits. 

Love...Ms. Moon