Lagniappe

There were no injuries although our friend's car is history. 
That is okay. There are always more Toyota's. 

Oh man. I am so relieved. Right after Mr. Moon left, I started hearing sirens heading in the direction of our friend's house. 

Many sirens. 

I called Mr. Moon and asked if all of that was about this accident. 

"Yes," he said, "And I'm right in the middle of all of it. I gotta go."

So, as you can imagine, I feared the very worst. Not just for our friend, but for the other people involved. 

But all is well. 

And thus, I guess, it really has been a very good day. 

No Title

As you can see, I put up my Christmas tree. I decided that since we were going to be bringing the plants in from the porch, I might as well bring in the current potted Norfolk Island Pine and bonus- the decorations were still on it. I have to say that it did not fare on the porch that well this year. It may actually be smaller than it was last year. 

Maurice for scale. She jumped up there to check it out and I asked her, "So what do you think about the tree, Maurice?"

She looked at me and said, "Mrrrow," which means she likes it very much. 

So today was the day to bring the plants in. I sort of can't believe we did it. Jessie was here to help with the very last few but mostly it was Mr. Moon, his dolly, (the kind that has wheels) and me. 
Ooh boy. 
But it wasn't horrible and neither one of us seems to have gotten any permanent injury but as I told Glen and Jessie when we were getting the last ones in place, I think that when it's time for them to go back out we need to get Vergil and Owen over here. 

Anyway, here's what parts of the house look like now. 

Dining room hearth with fern and two Monsteras. Remember when I got that Monstera plant at the dump? It has turned into those two big ones and another smaller one. Things like that just charm me. 

The hallway is housing some plants. 

And the library has been overtaken. 

Mr. Moon set up a table in there and although you can't see it, behind the table is a chest with smaller plants. 

If you look carefully, you can see Jack exploring the underside of a bird's nest fern. 

Believe it or not, that bird's nest fern on the left there is a huge plant. It may be taller than Levon. We're just going to have to go through the hallway to get from library to kitchen and back again. 

There are more plants stashed in various places. The laundry room is holding some. There are three that are so giant that they are staying on the porch and will be covered and provided with a heat source. It's not that they were heavier than some of the others but they stretch out so much that I'm not sure where we could stash them in the house. 

As I said earlier, Jessie came out and brought the boys in the early afternoon. She helped with the plants and everyone ate lunch and then she helped her daddy vacuum seal some barbecue and sausage that he bought in Tennessee by the truckload. 
Okay. That is hyperbole but there is a lot. 

We opened a jar of the tomatoes I tried to pickle yesterday. 
They are, in my opinion, vile. I rarely say that about any of my culinary efforts but in this case, it is appropriate. I will be throwing them out. Oh well. 

August helped with the vacuum sealing too and Levon allowed me to read him some books. We read The Five Hundred Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins again because he wanted to. I was quite happy to sit on the love seat in the library with him smashed up next to me reading that story to him. Lots of good voices for me to do. August came in and joined us when we read And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street. And then he asked for The Lorax but it was time for them to go. 
"Wait!" I said, as they were going out the door. "I didn't get any pictures!"

They were being silly and this is the best I got. 

It's been a full day and a good day. We got a lot done. And I feel that I have somewhat redeemed myself in the sandwich buns I made for our supper tonight. 

They are lovely and light, yet substantial enough to hold some Tennessee barbecue. I cooked some of this last year's field peas and made cole slaw. 

And that is what I like about the south. 

I finally figured out what I would like for Christmas. I am going to need new pruners and new loppers. After this next week's cold, there is going to be so much trimming that needs to be done. Trimming and cutting back, with hopes that the camellias, azaleas, confederate rose, palms, and so many more will recover after the five days of hard freeze we're going to get starting on Friday. I doubt we'll get an azalea blossom this spring at all. The spirea will most likely freeze to the ground. Jessie and Vergil have so much beautiful citrus planted and I do not know how it all will survive. Tomorrow I need to go out and take cuttings of the firespike to root over the rest of the winter because it will be gone. We haven't had temperatures in the low twenties and teens in so long that I'm not quite sure what to expect. I feel certain, however, that the invasive plants that I curse and pull, curse and pull, will of course spring forth like the Phoenix come spring. 

Here is the plant that I am most emotionally attached to, safe and warm right off the kitchen and between the pantry and a bathroom. 

As with almost all of my plants, there is a story attached. That is a mango tree that I started from the pit of a mango I found on the ground in Roseland under a tree that I had eaten mangos from as a child. The tree is no longer there and so I feel that this plant is a living link back to my childhood and one that can never be replicated. It may even be one of the mangoes that Chester planted. If you have no idea who Chester was and have any interest in knowing, just do a search up there at the top of the page on the left. I have written about him many, many times. 

All right. I just found out that a friend of ours has been in an accident and I am a bit distracted at the moment. Mr. Moon has gone to see what he can do. 

So much for the good day thing. 
Shit. 

Please be careful, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Let's Wrap This Shit Up

That's what the sky in Lloyd has looked like all day. I took that picture of the post office when I went to check the mail. It's been gloomy and chilly and damp. It's even rained some. I had no desire to leave the house at all after I got back from that short errand. 

I sent a friend this picture and asked, "Do I really want to mess with these?"

"God no," she said. 

But then I thought about all the time Mr. Moon had taken to pick them and I decided to just make a few pints of pickled green ones and got out the canner and perused recipes and sterilized jars and made a pickling brine and stemmed and washed the tomatoes and before I put each one in the jars I stabbed the top with a sharp knife. The recipes online are a mishmash of different techniques, brines, and spices. So I just put in what I wanted including part of a brick of brown sugar that I've kept for some unknown reason. It fused itself together a long time ago so today I just got out some sort of serrated knife that looks like it was made to cut through bones (it may have been) and hacked off about an inch of the brick and threw that in with the vinegar and salt. I put a garlic clove and different pickling spices into the jars before I put the tomatoes in, then filled the jars with the brine before I put the lids on and put them back in the canning kettle for a nice little simmer. 

This is what they looked like before they went into the water bath. 

So. They may be good or they may taste like a vile experiment gone very wrong. The only thing I've wasted is some vinegar and spices and a hunk of brown sugar. 

They've all sealed and I'll open a jar in a week or so to see what they taste like.

Besides that I wrapped a few presents. I can only do so many of those at a time before I lose my mind. I have such a mental block about giving presents. Some people seem to just be born to know how to give the best presents. My friend Lynn was one of those people. Her mama was good at it too. My mother frankly mostly sucked at it. Every Christmas we used to go to a party at a friend's house and it became a standing joke for the women to tell each other about the things their mothers had gotten them. I think I was the all-time champ of weird shit present-receiving from my maternal unit. Well, she tried. I'm not a whole lot better than she was. My kids still talk about the Christmas everyone got the choice of getting a corduroy shirt from J. Crew or a multi-tool. I am sure I must have given them all more than that. I mean- really. The youngest children are easy to buy for. Levon literally picked out his own present and I bought it. I got August a make-a-robot kit thing and Maggie a giant jewelry-making kit. 

So anyway, I wrapped up all the kids' things except Gibson's which isn't here yet, and then remembered that I had presents for Mr. Moon to wrap and I just couldn't deal with it. I did get a fancy $1.99 shopping bag in Bass Pro World decor when I was there yesterday and his presents may all just end up being in there, unwrapped, with a layer of tissue paper over them. I remember how Kathleen used to get started early, early making beautiful pillowcases that she put her Christmas presents in. That woman DID Christmas. She loved it! She baked and bought and sewed and crocheted and planned and made soap, and then she cooked the seven fishes for Christmas Eve. Is it seven? Twelve? Whatever it was, she did it. She had the most amazingly generous soul. 
I do not. 

One year she made me a shawl/wrap in my favorite color, a deep teal, and she put bells on it and ribbons and oh my god! It is such a work of love and knowing. I cherish it. And it must be six feet long. At least! I can wrap and wrap and wrap myself in it. 

It's raining now. Mr. Moon is in town, trying to find me a Christmas present, I'm afraid. He asked me to please tell him what I'd like and I swear, I could not think of a thing. I need no more kitchen appliances or doo-dads or even beautiful knives. He gave me jewelry for our anniversary. I need nothing and I really don't WANT anything either. We are at that stage of life where if we want something, we buy it for ourselves and we have everything. 

What I really want is for us to get these plants in and that must be done tomorrow. Truly. Neither one of us really wants to do it but unless I want my plants, some of which are twenty years old or older, to die, we have to. 

I found a recipe online for fried green cherry tomatoes so it can be done. I think I'll try that for our supper tonight. I've already made the aging eggplant into a casserole and I'm going to roast a chicken which will feed us for days. And hey! We could also have a nice cherry tomato salad!

This many were ripe enough not to be considered green. Maurice is not impressed. 

All right. This made me laugh today.

Take care, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

And On The Whatever Day Of Christmas My True Love Gave To Me- MANY Cherry Tomatoes.

A few weeks ago I talked about all the fireplaces in this house and how they were all different and all have gas logs in them. When the house was built (1859, which is a pretty darn old house for Florida) fireplaces were the only source of heat, of course. It may have been a sign of almost-wealth to have a fireplace in every room. Of course the original house had fewer rooms than it does now but as families grew and resources were made available, rooms and porches were added almost higgilty-piggilty and now it winds itself through hallways and sometimes just other rooms. When Mr. Moon and I are in our room, an explosion could go off in the kitchen and we'd never know it. 

Anyway, the picture above is the fireplace in the Glen Den. That is the room we mainly use the gas logs in, mostly just for the coziness of it but they do offer a nice bit of warmth. I have fantasies of lighting the one in our room for the romantic and cozy effect but it seems wasteful. Also, there is a thermostat of sorts and the heater clicks on and off at random times and it can be rather loud. Not shockingly so, but perhaps enough to interrupt sleep. 

So I bought a ham today. 
I have no idea why I bought a ham. I was at Costco and there were hams and next thing you knew, there was one in my cart. It seemed to me that the hoards of people in the giant store were either determined and had a mission in mind, or were doing what I was, which was to randomly wander the aisles, searching for...something? Anything? 

We were dazed and confused. We bought hams. 

I had a conversation with the guy who generally works in the liquor department. You can bet the ranch that this girl is not going to run out of vodka anytime soon. I've talked about this guy before. He is such a genial and lovely man. Everyone loves him. Everyone feels like they are his friend. Even me. Of course. His last day at Costco is a week from this Saturday as he is retiring. I teared up when he told me. But then he showed me a picture of the house he is buying- his first, I think, possibly, and it is a lovely house and he'll have a yard and plenty of projects to keep him busy. I told him that I was happy for him and I am although I will miss him. 
Change is inevitable but it can be hard, can't it? 

And then I went to Bass Pro World which is right next to Costco and I actually found a few things for Mr. Moon in his size which is not an easy thing to do. He is not a large man circumference-wize, but he is so very tall. And I figure that if he is not happy with what I got him or if something doesn't fit, he can take them back and find something else at Bass Pro World that does. If you've never been to a Bass Pro World let me just tell you that it's a completely different universe in there. I don't know if I love it or hate it. There's not a whole lot in it that I would want to buy for myself but there is an aquarium that's as big as a movie screen with benches in front of it for people to watch the freshwater fish swim about in. Children are entranced. Also, there's a Santa for Christmas photo-ops. 

I really can't explain it. 

And then I dropped off some mixed nuts at Hank's house and then I went to Maddio's, which is a pizza joint, because it was 2:30 and I had not eaten and I could not face another sub from Publix. I probably made the very worst choice when it comes to calories and health but damn, it was good. And I brought half of it home. Some sort of Alfredo spinach and artichoke heart and red onion and pesto thing. 

As I went about my day, I tried to listen to the Jan. 6 committee hearing but I wasn't able to hear much of it. I see that Trump will be given criminal referrals to the Department of Justice and I have to wonder what good that will do, if any. I read somewhere that he said earlier that if that happened, he would be ignoring it. 
Can he do that? 
I have no idea. 

On to Publix where I got to see Lily and by the time I got home it was four o'clock and I honestly do not know what took me so long. I felt as if I'd entered some time-altering portal that stretched the day out or maybe shortened it. My brain doesn't work like that. I just know that sometimes things seem to take four times as long as I think they should. 

Mr. Moon picked all the green cherry tomatoes. I'd say there may be three pounds there. 

I think I might try to pickle most of them and attempt a batch of fried cherry tomatoes too. In the air fryer. 

We'll see. 

I got a call from Jessie. She'd taken August to the ENT guy to get his opinion on why every time the boy gets a cold it turns into a sinus infection and he always breathes through his mouth. Turns out he probably needs to get his adenoids out. They are abnormally swollen. August, who was on speaker phone, was beside himself with joy at the thought of such an adventure. 
"You're gonna get an operation, August?" I asked him. 
"YES!" he shouted. 

Jessie is already trying to prepare him. She told him about the IV and how they would start it and what it was for, and he was thrilled. "Tell me more!" he said. He is a funny little critter, that one. He is ready for it to happen TOMORROW but that's not going to happen. 
I am sure that the prospect of ice cream is part of appeal. I guess they're still using that scam. Almost every kid I knew growing up (except the really poor ones) had their tonsils out and they always told them that after the surgery, they'd get all the ice cream they wanted, which of course turned out to be not much. 

And so it goes, so it goes. We have not yet brought in the plants. I brought in a few of the small ones from the back porch and set most of them in the laundry room which gets a lot of sun. 

Tomorrow, perhaps. And hopefully Magnolia June will be spending the night this week. I need to wrap the children's presents. I think I will not bother wrapping the adults'. And of course none of the presents I've ordered online have actually arrived so there may be nothing to wrap anyway. 

Take care, y'all. Stay warm and be as kind to yourself as possible. Get the damn pizza with Alfredo sauce and pesto and enjoy every bite. Have a conversation with an interesting person. We're all doing the best we can. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Breakdown, Go Ahead And Do It

The man is home, safe and sound. I sort of fell apart today. I suppose I did not realize how much I was holding on to stay together this past week. It's been a lot for me and I didn't realize it until he got home. So it has not been a particularly good day. In fact, I feel I've ruined it by my sadness. 

My poor husband has had to put up with my emotional crazies for all these years and I feel like I have gotten so much better in the last decade or so but sometimes something happens and all of my insecurities and unhelpful coping mechanisms come back in full force and there I am- a mess. At least though, I think I am better at identifying the emotion I'm actually feeling and don't go through the entire spectrum of them trying to find the one that makes me feel the least vulnerable. 
Well, theoretically, at least. 

So I've not only ruined his homecoming but Keithmas as well. 
Don't tell Keith, okay? I know he counts on my intergalactic good thoughts on his birthday. And it's not only his birthday, it's his wedding anniversary to his beloved Patti. Thirty-nine years. One year longer than Mr. Moon and I. I wonder if after all their years together, their joys and sorrows and illnesses and accidents, the children, the grandchildren, if sometimes Keith doesn't find himself wondering, as my husband does, What the fucking fuck? about his wife. 
I would truly be surprised if he did not. 

Well. 

Tomorrow will be a better day. And this week we have got to get my plants inside because although for the past few years, dragging them to the wall of the porch and covering them with sheets and blankets has kept them alive, we have not had temperatures down near twenty degrees which is what we're going to have this week. And let me tell you something- some of my plants, MANY of my plants, are bigger than a stove and heavier than one too. My plan is to just lay tarps down in the dining room and hallway and roll those behemoths in with a dolly. We will be living in a jungle-house. I wonder how many lizards and insects we will be bringing in with them. 

Sounds interesting. And a little wild. 
Life. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Gather Ye Roses While Ye May

I have felt much better about life in general today for no apparent reason. I just have. I knew that Hank and Rachel were going to come out to drop off Christmas goodies and maybe that helped my attitude. I even did some clearing and cleaning up of the side jungle garden next to the kitchen, mostly pulling up pine cone ginger lilies and trimming roses. The lilies will return. I didn't even try to get all the roots out. I need to find out if their roots can be used for culinary purposes. If so, I need never buy another piece of ginger root in my life. They smell like ginger and supposedly the liquid from the "cones" can be ingested for various ailments as well as being used for a soap or shampoo. They really are a nice plant but like everything in this yard, they tend to get wildly out of control. 
As you can see above, Maurice once again showed up to assure quality control over my work. I really do not think she's ever satisfied with my efforts. 

It was a treat to see Hank and Rachel. They are going to go out of town for Christmas. They've booked a place on a beach and I think they are wise and wonderful. So today they were going about, being Christmas elves. Hank announced via text that they expected mulled wine and gingerbread treats at all of their stops. I had none of that but I did pick them some salad greens and baked them a loaf of sourdough and gave them their Virgin of Guadalupe calendar. We chatted for awhile and then they had to scoot along to go see Lily and Lauren and the kids. Rachel made everyone cookies and when they left I told them that I might eat all of ours before Dad gets home. "When's he coming back?" they asked. 
"I have no idea," I said. 

And then, just a little while ago, I got a call from the man himself and he is on his way home. He will be home for Keithmas! Actually, he'll be home before Keithmas, hopefully. I'll be in bed but possibly still awake. So I guess I won't get to eat all the cookies myself. I told him that he should have given me more of a head's up- that I was not emotionally prepared! Also, that I have not yet eaten my eggplant! He is not so fond of eggplant but he might get some anyway. Tonight I am making a lovely creamy, curried, cashew, coconut, butternut and sweet potato soup. Curry isn't one of his favorite spices either although he seems to enjoy this soup quite a bit when I make it. I make him sound like he's really picky but he's not. He'll eat anything I make him but he enjoys some things more than others as do we all. 
Anyway, it will be lovely to have him home. I'll have to put Emily and Dorothy Anne back in their own bed, I guess. 

Adjustments must be made and I will gladly make them. 
And for those of you who may be wondering- he did not catch a deer. 

So I got to wondering today how long it's actually been since I realized that Keith Richards is my spirit totem animal. By doing a small bit of detective work, I have determined that I first read his memoir almost exactly twelve years ago. If you are mystified about my deep and true affection for this particular man, you can go HERE to read how it sort of all began. Twelve years later I am still entranced. I love that he (and Mick, too, really) have not only survived but thrived for all these years and still tour regularly. If there is such a thing as a rock god, those two men define the term. And tomorrow, Keith will turn 79 years old which, if you know that in his twenties, he was at the top of the "next-to-die" list for good reason, really is impressive. 
Ay-yi. 

I think the most profound thing I've ever said about the Rolling Stones is that they never have looked like a rock and roll band was supposed to look. Hell, Keith had black and missing teeth during his junky years. He and Mick wore eyeliner and Keith wore his girlfriend's clothes while Mick bended and blended genders in a way that Paul McCartney would never have dared. 
Let us just say they were not the Beatles. 
Last night I was listening to an Armchair Expert podcast with Richard Branson as the guest. He told Dax and Monica that Keith Richards taught him how to roll a joint. I think this says a lot. Richard Branson, one of the most successful business men in the history of the world is still proud that Keith taught him to roll a joint. A sort of declaration of his coolness quotient.

Well. Before I leave, let me give you these pictures of flowers from my yard today. 

How is this perfection even possible? 

Camellias and roses. By this time next week, it will be so cold that there will be none of either. The camellias will come back and the roses will too, eventually. 

I am not religious but I believe in miracles. They happen every day and sometimes they happen once a year and sometimes they happen once a century or so. 

As I said twelve years ago, don't forget to kneel when you pray. 

Love...Ms. Moon

La Vida Loca Y Dulce

So this, as you might surmise, is the garden. On your left there, you have collard greens which have not gotten very large but that's okay because they are still so tender. On the right of that trellis situation we have your arugula (rocket) and to the right of that are carrots. In the back of the picture you can see mustard greens and turnip greens. And of course that's just part of it. 

Today has had its ups and its downs. Neither too extreme which is good, I guess. The worst thing that happened is that when I opened my refrigerator today, I realized that a head of organic broccoli I'd bought a relatively long time ago (as in, after the dinosaurs became extinct but definitely before two weeks ago) was going bad and stinking up my refrigerator. So, I pulled it out and went to unwrap the plastic covering off of it so that I could free it from its rubber band and dump it outside with the rest of the kitchen scraps. Thankfully I was doing this in the sink because what should come crawling out of that plastic covering but a STINKIN', FUCKIN' cockroach. It's been living in my refrigerator all this time. My first thought was- well, I guess it really was organic. My second thought was- kill the motherfucker! 

Which I did. It wasn't the biggest roach I've ever seen but it wasn't the smallest either. Luckily it was moving slowly, having been refrigerated for weeks, and I managed to smash it with a paper towel and although I felt a little bad about taking a life I was also happy it was gone. 
I already did not like broccoli very much and that may have been the end of my broccoli buying days. 

One of the good things that happened today was that I finally got most of my Christmas shopping completed. Online, of course. And managed to use the website of a local natural museum to renew memberships for the kids. Every year I go through this. They have the worst website when it comes to trying to renew or buy a membership. The problem this year is that you can only purchase one membership at a time. There is a "shopping cart" feature but if you try to put more than one purchase in it, you get a message that it cannot be done. 

Okay, okay, first world problem in the extreme but I finally got all of them ordered that I wanted. I also bought Gibson a present which will not be here by Christmas but it looks pretty cool. It's a make-your-own comic kit and you can even send it in to the company and they will make an actual comic book of what you have drawn and captioned. I hope he likes it. 

I still have to go to Costco and Bass Pro World. Guess who I'll be shopping for there? You don't need any hints, do you? Frankly, I'm not too worried about getting him presents. The man has had an excellent time of it this fall and now winter, hunting in distant lands and territories. I am sure that he would agree that my gift to him is my love and blessing in sending him off to do something that brings him so much pleasure even though I don't begin to understand it. 

I finally cut down the stalk with the bananas on it. 

I'm leaving it outside tonight because that stalk is dripping vital juices and I do not care to clean them up inside. I have no idea if the bananas will ripen. Hell, I don't even know if they are eating bananas or cooking bananas in which case they would stay green. There are many, many varieties of bananas and these were growing before I moved in here so I have no clue as to how they should be ripened or if perhaps they already are ripe. 

But the blossom is enough to make me happy so there is that, too. 

More growing things-

Jessie and Vergil's incredibly juicy, thin-skinned limes and our cherry tomatoes. I need to pick all of them, ripe or not before it freezes. Mr. Moon asked me awhile back why we can't just fry the little green ones like we do fried okra? Sounds quite intriguing. Fried green tomatoes are delicious. I might try that in the air fryer. Why not? 

And speaking of food, Lily made a white bean and venison chili for her department's entry into the Publix's chili cook-off where she works. She used an old favorite of ours from a Weight Watcher's cookbook (seriously) substituting venison for chicken or turkey and she added her own spin on it by roasting tomatillos and poblano peppers, blending them up and adding them in. 

Rachel got to taste it when she went by Publix after work. 

The cooking gene is strong in this one. 

And now I give you this. 

That's what I was watching last night while I ate my dinner. Old Rolling Stones concerts. Only two more days before Keithmas! Which, as most of you know, is a holiday I can heartily get behind. 

Okay. That is truly and really all. 

For now.

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Mer Day

It was raining this morning when I woke up and I'm pretty sure it rained through the night. When I went out to dump my compost this morning, the garden looked happy as a garden can look, bright and green and thriving. It wasn't long until the sun came out and every cloud disappeared, as if someone had come and swept all the cobwebs away, revealing a ceiling of lapis lazuli. 

It was my day to pick up Levon and August and before I had to leave the house I got a few things done. I took the trash and was surprised to see a new employee at the garbage depot- a woman!  There was another woman who used to work there a long time ago. She was small and white and as butch as they come. I had a little crush on her. This new lady is younger, Black, and looks big and strong enough to tote a washing machine if necessary although I imagine the smaller lady could have too if she'd set her mind on it. She was like a wire but a wire can be strong. 

Anyway, I thought, Wow, I should tell someone this Lloyd news! and then I thought, Seriously? Who would care? and then I thought, Holy fuck, woman. You need to get a life. 

Next I went to the post office because it's on the way home and there was a man with what I would call whiskers, not a beard, who was wearing a pair of overalls not unlike the ones I myself was wearing. This made me realize that not only do I need a life, I probably need a wardrobe. When I was leaving the PO, the whiskered man said to me, "Nice fashion statement!" I sort of laughed. "You too." 

So I went and got Levon. They know me at the school now. I walk up and they say, "Levon?" and I say, "Yep," and they send for him. A mother handed me a little gift bag for him and I held on to it until we got to the car. Inside of it were about seven different types of candy including a ring pop and a candy bracelet. I handed it over to him and told him he could have one piece of candy. One. 
There was also a little bag with a dreidel, four chocolate gold covered pieces of gelt, and the instructions on how to play the dreidel game. I had never played the dreidel game, didn't even know there WAS a dreidel game. But I do now and I have also played it with a five year old who, due to our loose interpretation of the rules, won almost all the change in my wallet. 
Oh well. He got neither my pesos nor my Cuban CUC. 
I read him the Richard Scarry book I'd bought, "The Best Christmas Book Ever," and although it probably is not the best Christmas book ever, it was calm and soothing and all is merry and bright in Busytown. At the end of it, there was a page with the words and music to Silent Night and of course Levon wanted to know what that was and so I sang it to him, very slowly and as sweetly as I could, and he said, "That made me sleepy."
Well, shit. It made me so sleepy that I offered him my phone to play Monument on and I fell asleep cuddled up beside him on the couch. After about ten minutes he tapped me on the shoulder, handed me the phone and said, "You have a phone call," and indeed I did. It was Mr. Moon reporting in from Tennessee. After we talked to him I asked Levon if I snored and he said that yes, I did. I asked him to demonstrate what I'd sounded like, which he did, and I'm sure he got it perfectly. I remember once his mother when she was a little girl, telling me I snored like a dying moose. 
No wonder my husband loves to go off to distant lands and places so much. 

We went and got August and when he came out he hugged me hard and then Levon put his arms around both August and me and it was the best. 

When Vergil came out of the room where he works and it was time for me to go, both boys were in the bathroom, Levon on the toilet and August telling him something very important and they barely looked up when I hugged them good-bye and off I went. I left soup and bread for their dinner. Vergil recently had to go up to North Carolina as there was a death in the family and I know he's exhausted so I wanted to at least make their supper easy. 

Here are a few pictures I took. I asked the boys to think about certain things and make the faces they would make in reaction to those things. 

Christmas morning! Levon is eating a cookie. 

Visions of sugarplums, dancing through your head. 

How Santa is going to look trying to come down their chimney. 

I thought all of these were very good and accurate reactions. 

I love their little Christmas tree. There's a part of Tate's Hell State Forest where it is legal to go and cut down a Christmas tree. This is the second year they've done that and it makes for a sweet outing in the woods. It reminded me of all the years I've gone out into the woods (not always legally) in my life and cut down down a tree. In Roseland we could go out and cut a tree by the railroad tracks. Cedars grew abundantly there and eventually they'd come cut them all anyway. Cedars still grow in Roseland and they are another thing that draw me back to the place. I think the first time I ever bought a Christmas tree was my first year as a truly single woman. Hank and May were quite young but already aware of Christmas and its rituals. I was living in town after living in the woods in Lloyd, and in nursing school and there was no way I could get out into the wild and cut my own tree with two little children. So I bought one and then I had to figure out how to set it up and the damn thing did not want to fit into the holder thingee and I almost wept but I knew that this was just one of the things I absolutely had to be able to do on my own and I did and we had our tree. 

That was a horrible Christmas. The children got to be with me for Christmas Eve but my ex came and got them on Christmas morning, as had been arranged and I was completely and totally alone. I remember that it was one of the coldest days I could recall in Florida and even now, the memory of letting my babies go off on Christmas day in that freezing cold causes me to tear up. As I recall, I spent the day deep cleaning the house. Why not? I had the time, there were no distractions, and it no doubt needed it. 

Eh. That's life. There are countless parents who have been through the same and who do go through the same and who will go through the same. Another thing that makes me hate Christmas- that deep guilt and sorrow when a family has been "broken" and the children are forced to play their roles in the mess of the agreements which are often more like the burned-off landscapes of wildfires than anything civilized or right, no matter how hard the former partners try. 

Yes, well. 
It is getting cooler and will be for awhile. Finally, we may be getting our winter. I know that forecasts that range more than a few days in the future can be vastly inaccurate but they are saying that temperatures may be in the twenties on Christmas Eve and on Christmas. 
We shall see. But if that is true, I really do need to bring some plants in. I was just out on the front porch with Jessie a few days ago and even I am honestly astounded at how enormous some of my plants are. I have had them for decades and really all I do is water them and let them live their lives on that porch which doesn't get a whole lot of sun and yet, they thrive. I would truly hate to lose them. 

Meanwhile, I am wearing one of the cashmere sweaters that Linda Sue sent me. It is so soft, so warm, so comforting. I feel like I imagine a baby chick feels under its mama's wings, snuggled up to its nest mates which truly must be one of the best feelings in the world.  

I am grateful, I am anxious, I am sad, I am bewildered in these last days of 2022. And I am tired. Tired enough to fall asleep and snore on the couch next to my grandson in the middle of the day. Life will do that to you. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Such Good News

Mr. Moon just sent me that picture and it is quite fitting in that he received news from the surgeon today that indeed, he has a hematoma and no further treatment is necessary. 
There. 
That. 
Done and done. Bring on the rainbows! 

Here's another picture. 

Levon was not sure about that turkey. "That's the biggest turkey I've ever seen!" he kept saying which made me wonder how many turkeys the child has seen. When I asked him to pose with the handsome bird, that was as close as he'd get. "He might peck me," he said. He has been pecked by domestic fowl before so...probably a good call.

I did go to town today. Sort of. I got as far as a restaurant right off the interstate (ten minute drive from my house) to meet that boy and his mom for lunch. It's a "farm-to-table" joint and I think they do grow a lot of what they serve. Plus they have turkeys, chickens, rabbits, and ducks. And two guinea fowl. 

They also have citrus trees and papayas. 

There were so many papayas and they were all full of fruit. One tree had been pulled over by the abundance of its fruit. 

"How many papayas does one restaurant need?" I asked Jessie. 
She did not know. 

While we were eating, darling women gardeners wearing darling women gardening garments kept walking through the restaurant with a cup of tea or something. There were braids and tattoos and floppy hats. 
"Do you suppose one of the requirements to be a gardener here is that you have to be young, cute, and female?" I asked Jessie. 
"Definitely," she said. 

After lunch we walked out to see the critters and the gardens, and the ducks made me remember with such fondness the ducks I used to have. We adopted them after Kathleen left us. Do any of you remember them? Two females and after they'd jump in the tiny little water feature thing we have in the camellia bed, they would become randy and make sweet duck love with each other. They were such curious, charming creatures, chatting all through the day in their quacky voices. The ducks we saw today were incredibly focused on finding...something...in the muck created by run-off from where their pool had been filled up. Levon loved them. He said, "I want to be a duck."

I said, "Really? Would you want eat whatever it is that they're eating?"

"Well, not really," he said, "But it looks like it might be sort of wonderful."

So all of that was really fun and Jessie was so kind to me. I told her while we were eating that I guessed I was going to have to go to the mall. She was horrified. She knows me so well. 
"Why?" she asked. 
"Well, I have to get your daddy something and they have that big and tall shop in Dillard's and he needs some new shirts."
"Oh mama," she said. "Find him something online."

By this time I had teared up. Even the prospect of dealing with the mall was so overwhelming. My daughter encouraged me to do all the rest of my shopping online. "It's okay," she said. 
And I believe her. 

It's truly weird how every year my Christmas anxiety increases. When it first really started up, I thought it was an aberration and would surely pass but instead, it's become an intense physical resistance along with the emotional resistance. I just can't do it. I can't even put up my funky little creche that I always bring out. I always used to set a tiny Buddha behind the baby Jesus to remind us that we are all god, really, in a way. Hank put him there once a long, long time ago and I have adopted that practice. I decorated with magnolia branches and twinkle lights. I put my favorite ornaments on a tree. I, I...

I can't. 

So I came home and I bought some things online and don't even ask me what I bought. It's all a blur. I know I have not yet bought my husband anything. 
I hemmed a dress. I made a soup. I punched down my bread dough that I made this morning. I did the things that I love, that calm me, that soothe me. 

Everything is okay. My man is okay, my kids are okay, my grandkids are okay. One of these years, if I am given enough time, I may figure out this Christmas thing. 

Or not. And in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter in the least. 

Love from your odd and confused friend...Ms. Moon

Get Your Christmas Cheer Here!

Last night's salad was so good. SO good. I tried and tried to download the picture above yesterday because those were some of the ingredients in what I was making. See my teeny carrot? So the greens I used were the cabbage I had and some mustard greens. Also those two small scallions from the garden, the turnips sliced thin as paper and the carrot which was bright orange on the inside. I didn't have miso, as I said, so I fooled around with soy sauce and tahini which is not miso at all but Gee Dee- it was fantastic with the ginger, sesame oil, and rice wine, etc. I also toasted some sesame seeds and added that to the salad. Thankfully, there was enough for two meals and I was happy to have it for lunch. 

I've been worthless today. The fact that Christmas is upon us hit me square in the face this morning. The reality of it almost took me to my knees. My kids and I have been texting all day about the subject and mostly about how we put so much emphasis on it and how mothers are always the ones to make it all happen, thus being responsible for the Christmas Magic we are all led to believe is a true and real thing and that if we just buy the right presents and wrap them the right way and put up the right decorations and play the right Christmas music and cook and bake the right Christmas foods, the magic will be there. And if it's not there, then we have not performed the correct rituals and we are failures as mothers and our children will be scarred for the rest of their lives. 
And all of this even if we do not identify as Christian. 
As I said in one of my texts, "It's not Christmas magic, it's Christmas mania."

I swear to you- I have PTSD from all of the things I did to make Christmas merry and bright in the defined and proscribed manner in which we were lead to believe was THE WAY! And most mothers did. Do. 
And Christmas was never a merry time for me to begin with. At an early age I realized that Christmas magic was pretty much bogus, that Santa Claus was a hoax, and that if you have a very unhappy family all year 'round, it ain't gonna miraculously be all happy and bright and loving on December 25. I did want desperately to believe in the St. Luke version of the story of the birth of sweet baby Jesus and for many years I clung to that but as I grew older and my anti-religion gene kicked in and then read the Bible trying to overcome it, I realized that it was all just a lovely story and that although there may have been a birth in a stable, there were surely no wisemen bearing inappropriate gifts and no shepherds herding their flocks at night being struck with the vision of an angel telling them about the virgin birth of the savior of the world. 

Phew. I suppose this may be my annual I-Hate-Christmas post. 

Or maybe not. There could be more to come. 

But anyway, yes, the fact that Christmas is right around the corner and that as Grinchy as I am, I must at least have something for the children to open on Christmas morning from me and their grandfather really came into focus and Lo! I was sore afraid! I have gotten Maggie, Levon, and August something but nothing for my darling Owen and Gibson. And of course I want to give all of my children something. They all get what we call the "flat gift" of money but I haven't come up with anything else. I usually end up giving them all the same thing- something from Costco, like down comforters or blenders or, whatever. It's sort of a running joke. But this year I haven't figured it out. 

Okay. Let's not talk about that any more right now. 

This arrived in the mail today!

I discovered Fresca recently, via our beloved Linda Sue. I love Fresca's blog and she photographs things her dolls get up to (as does Linda Sue) and has made a calendar of a year's worth of the photos. It is so cheerful and so sweet. I have hung it on the porch right beside where I write. 

I already have a 2023 appointment written down on the appropriate day. Unfortunately it's for a visit to the dentist but this is life. And the sweetness of Fresca's Girlettes helps to make the prospect of such an appointment less daunting, somehow. 

I had to do a little rearranging of that particular part of the porch wall but I actually like it better now. 

Maurice and I did a little gardening today. 

I weeded and she kept an eye on me. 

Here's a picture of one of the cherry tomato bushes with a tiny bit of its abundance. 

And, speaking of dolls (we were speaking of dolls, right?) Dorothy Anne and Emily have decided that since Mr. Moon is gone and we have such a huge bed, that they should keep me company at night along with Jack. 

They do love the panther light and the rosy glow it casts upon them. I agree. I have not yet told Mr. Moon that his side of the bed is now occupied. He made it safely to Arkansas and reports that the hole in his leg has sealed itself up and liquid is no longer escaping from it and that they have already eaten almost all of the cookies. 

I suppose I may actually have to pull myself together and go to town tomorrow to do a little shopping. Pray for me now and at the hour of my inevitable break-down. 

And I think that's all the news from Lloyd that I have.

Love...Ms. Moon