Ginger Cat Farm

Well, my friends, I found the chocolates today! They were in the first place I looked so perhaps I really did remember, except not consciously which I am not sure counts as remembering at all. Like I said yesterday, I could remember bringing them in and Mr. Moon was here and so I apparently just stepped into the pantry and shoved the bag with them in it on a lower shelf between two pots. Since the man is quite tall and can easily see the tops of refrigerators as well as the highest shelves, it is best to hide anything you don't want him to see in a place where a two-year old would be most likely to find it. 

So. I did not have to go into town today. I probably should have just to get myself out of the house. I had no motivation today. None. Everything I thought about doing I easily talked myself out of. I thought about making some cookies because, you know- it's Christmas and that's what grandmas do on Christmas, we bake cookies. I used to bake so many Christmas cookies that I'd start sometimes in late October and freeze them. That's when I used to have an egg nog party every year which was almost famous in the south Georgia, northeast Florida area. 
That's a bit of hyperbole but we surely did have a lot of people over for that party. This was when I was married to my ex- husband. The first one we had we held in our then-home which was a ten by fifty foot trailer. Why did we think this was a good idea? I do not know but we had fun. My favorite memory of that event was that my dear friend Lynn's mother Dottie, who was also a dear friend herself and a good Presbyterian lady but not a jerk about it, indicated that she would like to come. This was fine except for the fact that there was bound to be a whole lot of homegrown weed being smoked and indeed, someone brought over what amounted to a wreath's worth and arranged it nicely around the punch bowl. So one of Dottie's kids (she had five and most of them were also friends of ours) sat her down and told her that there would be pot smoking and if that bothered her, she probably shouldn't attend. She blew that off, so to speak, and spent most of the evening in the recliner that was situated right between the kitchen "area" and the living room "area" and I feel certain that she must have gotten high on the second-hand smoke. Dottie liked a good drink, too, and so I think she had a really good time. I am so glad she came! 
She and I had a pretty sweet little relationship between the two of us and I adored her. Glen and I still laugh at what she told us once which was that she drank Scotch because her kids didn't like it and so would leave hers alone. 

What in HELL was I talking about? Oh yeah. Baking cookies. 
So after thinking about that today and looking at some recipes I decided to forget it because honestly- no one around here needs cookies. And I have a feeling there will be plenty of sweets at the Christmas day gathering we're going to be having at Lily's house. So no, I didn't bake cookies. 
I did, however, start wrapping. 
You know how much I hate shopping? That's how much I hate wrapping. This pictures sums up my shopping/wrapping abilities:

Four identical gifts, one for each family, wrapped in vintage tablecloths tied with ribbon I get at thrift stores. Brilliant, eh? I love to buy beautiful old tablecloths and rarely use them so...perfect. 

And here we have some more traditional wrapping. 
I remember that Kathleen used to make pretty pillowcases for everyone she gave gifts to and wrapped the gifts in those. That woman! I am not, however, Kathleen and no one else is either, nor will anyone ever be.

And I guess that's enough to talk about today unless you'd like to hear about my uneventful trip to the dump and I doubt you do. There was a farmer's market going on by the My G. Soul Boutique but there was only one table set up with a few baskets of what I assume were produce on it. I had no money on me so didn't stop. There were cars at the boutique itself though. I noticed the other day that their hours have changed. They're only open three days a week now. I can't believe they're still open. 

Oh! I think I've already mentioned the fact that Maurice has an-almost doppelgänger hanging about and today Glen took this picture.

That is not the doppelgänger for sure and certain because Glen saw him at the same time too. This guy looks older and bigger and we are calling him "Big Head" because of course. 

What in hell is going on here? Both of those strays look to be pretty well fed so I'm not too worried about them. Our next-door neighbor probably feeds them. 

Here's the real Maurice hiding from Jack the other day.

Look at those sweet little paws. 
Look. But keep your distance. 

Love...Ms. Moon

When Did THAT Happen? Also- Such Unexpected Sweetness

So this morning I was hanging sheets on the line and I looked up and across the yard and noticed that leaning tree. I swear to you- I have looked at those trees thousands of times and I never, ever noticed that tree being bent over like that. I called Mr. Moon over to look at it and said, "Honey, has that tree always looked like that?"
"Oh hell no," he said. 
And then we both started saying things about how now that the leaves are falling off the limbs we can see the tree better and that maybe it's always been like that but then we both agreed that no, this is a new thing. 
None of the roots are coming up so I guess it's not going to fall over any minute and if it does fall over, at least it won't fall on the house but just knowing that a Bradford pear can do that is a little scary because we have more that are definitely close enough to the house to crunch that pretty new roof should they fall. 
These are the same damn trees that we vow to cut down every year and here we are twenty years on and they're still here, bigger than ever of course, because that's what trees do. They grow. One of the problems is that the septic tank is buried in there somewhere and driving a truck the size of the ones they use to cut down trees onto it would probably not be prudent. 
Ooh boy.
So that's another thing to think about here on El Rancho Luna. Being a homeowner is not always what it's cracked up to be.

Y'all- it has been a good day. Another good day. I stayed home mostly, although I did walk up to the post office. I knew I had a package because I'd gotten an email notice of a delivery of a dress I ordered and as soon as I started opening my box, the mail clerk guy went to the back of the office and retrieved TWO packages for me. 
I do love the Lloyd post office, as you know. 
One of the packages was indeed the dress and the other came from a name I did not recognize. I brought them home and it turned out that they mystery box was absolutely filled with beautiful things for me that someone (and I do now know who it was) had gotten and mailed to me. 
I was so absolutely stunned. 
Thank you, thank you, thank you, darling woman who sent that! I was and am overwhelmed and honestly don't even know what to do with all the feelings in my heart. 
Just...what a gorgeous, loving surprise. 

The dress that came is not bad. It's another flannel dress from the Natural Life company that had been on major sale and it fits and it's so soft but...NO POCKETS! Well, okay. There are two breast pockets. It's basically a flannel shirt that comes down to your ankles so practically perfect except for that one major flaw. 
Major. I didn't even think to check on the pocket issue when I ordered it. I thought all of their dresses came with pockets. I am sorely disappointed but I am keeping it. I can either add some pockets or wear it with an apron with pockets (at home, at least) or a jacket with pockets. 

Isn't that model darling? And yes, I do look just like her in the dress. A little older but just as cute. 
I swear.

The rest of the day I've done the little things I've been putting off- paying a bill online, activating my insurance app, putting the porch plants back in order after that freeze threat we had recently and watering them. I am the absolute Queen of Procrastination. 

And of course we have clean sheets on the bed and the glasses are in the freezer for our martini pleasure. I've picked salad greens for our supper. 

I have one more thing to say this evening and that is this: The movie Elf is complete and utter shite. I've always heard what a great movie it is and I do have an affection for Will Ferrell in certain situations so we thought we'd watch it this week. 
Oh. My. God. 
No. A thousand times no. We did not come close to finishing it.
And in today's local Tallahassee paper they did a list of the top 20 Christmas movies of all times and guess what? Elf was number three. Glen and I laughed so hard we almost lost our breakfasts. 

And The Family Stone wasn't even on the list so you know that was a bullshit list. 

And on we go. I still haven't found Mr. Moon's chocolates. 
Sigh. 

If I have to go back to town to buy more I am going to be so pissed off at myself. 

Meanwhile, happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

My Teeth Are Fine

It was a very, very full day for me. First off- that dental appointment. My hygienist today was a woman whom I'd only met once before and I remembered I liked her and today I sort of fell in love with her. We started chatting- I like getting a conversation going if I'm anxious and I asked her if she had children and she said no, she wasn't even married yet but was getting married in March and we went from there. She's marrying her high school sweetheart and if I'm any judge of character, she truly loves her boy. She told me about the wedding venue and she just sounded so happy in a very real way. Genuine. And I told her it sounded perfect and asked where they were going on their honeymoon and she sort of ducked her head and said, "Well, you probably won't believe this but we're going to go hunting together in Texas. We love to hunt together." And she told me she can't wait to be out west where they're going to travel some, staying in tents and cabins, just her and her sweetie and again- she means it. 

I told her that my man hunts too but that I don't and we discussed how hunting can affect a marriage after the babies come and she's already concerned about that and asked my advice on how to handle it and I told her that I used to get very resentful when my husband went hunting and I was home with the kids on my own. But somehow, we worked it out and the best thing they could do is to make a plan before the babies start coming. 
I don't know why, but it was the sweetest visit. She was so grateful to find someone she could talk to about hunting which many people won't even discuss and by the time my teeth were clean, I think she was ready to invite me to her wedding. 
She told me over and over how much she'd enjoyed talking to me and then she said, "Merry Christmas and have a blessed day!" which is of course code for "I'm a Christian" and I told her that I hated Christmas and wasn't religious which I'm sure shocked her to pieces but I sort of wanted her to know that people who don't believe in her god can still be nice folks. I hope I did not offend her and that after some pondering she can accept me as I am, Christmas-hating and an obvious heathen.

And then, I went to lunch with a very old friend. He's not old but our friendship is. We haven't seen each other in years but he's a prolific FB poster and we've stayed in touch that way and sometimes through texts. He messaged me last night about something he was going through and I messaged him back saying, "Look, I'm going to be in town tomorrow. Let's meet for lunch." We used to meet for lunch every Christmas but somehow that went by the wayside but still- we're the sort of friends where you just pick up where you left off whether it's been a week or a decade since you last saw each other. 
I got to the restaurant first and when he walked up, my heart almost exploded. I was SO happy to see him. We hugged enough to make up all the years. And then we sat and talked and had a delicious lunch for over two and a half hours that went by in a second. Our relationship is not what I would call a normal relationship. We have, from the very beginning, been able to be completely honest with each other in ways that I cannot be with other people, even the ones I love the most. I think he feels the same way about me. I can't explain it, I can't really figure out why we're like this but we are. In some ways we could hardly be more different and in other ways, we are slam on twins.
And he knows I'll never judge him and I know he'll never judge me and we have supported each other through some pretty tough times. We are both survivors in our own ways, and we recognize that in each other and we honor that in each other. 
It's a beautiful thing. 

We finally parted and I had to go pick up a prescription and then go to Publix and my energy was just about depleted, even though the day had been full of good things. That's the way it goes sometimes for people who have trouble dealing with different situations. Publix wasn't easy but I had a few smiles even there with a couple whom I kept getting in the way of and whose path I kept crossing. 
"I'm stalking you!" I told them and the man said, "Well, it's nice to be stalked sometimes." 

And to top it all off, Lis called me just a little while ago and hearing her beautiful voice was like having an angel gently polish some wings on my back that I didn't even know where there. 

So it's been a GOOD day and now I need, once again, to get our supper made. 

And because pictures are great, here are two that came in our group text yesterday.

This was from Jessie's work party last night. She said she got a little annoyed with Santa because he lectured the boys on helping their mama and being sweet to each other. Those boys are as sweet as can be to each other- Jessie and I were just discussing this. And they help their mama. Mostly. 
Hank offered to kick that Santa right in the booty because that's what a good brother/uncle does. 

And this picture.

Y'all. That was my Owen about twelve years ago. When my mother lived in an assisted living place, they had a Christmas dinner for families every year and brought in a good Santa. Our whole family would attend. The lady photo-bombing the photo was not my mother but another resident of the place and we always get a laugh out of her presence there. But look at that beautiful little boy. My little prince. He looked so much like his mother. He still does. 

There you go. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Trying Day

I have been in a bitchy mood today. The kind of mood where I kept having to bite my tongue to prevent the tiny demons that were sitting there, just longing to jump up and say mean things to my husband. Certainly it was not me who wanted to say mean things. We all know that I am the very essence of sweetness and light in all ways and on all days because that is just who I am!

Right.

I have a dental appointment tomorrow, just a regularly scheduled cleaning, and of course that's making me anxious which sometimes brings out the worst in me. I suppose that anger can be a coping mechanism for anxiety as well as for depression which I know I'm having a little lick of right now too. 
And when these days happen, if the only person around is your partner, it sometimes happens that he or she gets the brunt of that misplaced anger. "I'm not depressed! I'm not anxious! It's just that you never..."
Never whatever. Doesn't matter. Or sometimes it's, "You always..."

Luckily for Mr. Moon he was gone all morning. He saw a buck on his trail cam pictures and he has worked hard for years on this specific hunting spot and was eager to go try and see the thing in real life, and to perhaps do that thing that hunters do which I don't like to think about, much less vocalize. 
This is why I always ask him, "Did you catch a deer today?"
Well, he did not catch a deer today and admits that he may have slept for most of the early morning in the deer stand but he did see a beautiful big owl. 

He texted to tell me that he was going to sit in the stand until eleven and so I just puttered about here and around 12:30 he called to ask me if I wanted to join him at a little restaurant near where he'd been hunting for lunch. I've never eaten at this place but he likes it and weirdly enough, it is run and operated by a woman I was in a few plays with in Monticello, years ago. Whenever I run into her she asks why I've never been so I told Mr. Moon yes, I'd meet him there. 
When I'd gotten to the highway that the restaurant is on, he called to tell me that dammit- the place was closed today. So we decided to meet at the Hilltop which is a place I've written about many times before. I told him I'd call there to make sure they were open, which I did, as I turned around and headed in that direction. 
They were closed. 
So this left Monticello because Jefferson County is not the foodie capital of Florida but I was just in overalls and a shirt and jacket because he'd convinced me that no one at the restaurant we were originally going to gave a shit. He himself was in full cammo. The Hilltop certainly does not require any sort of dressing up either, so I'd felt okay about going there but here we were, discussing dining in the big city of Monticello. 
Why I even cared, I do not know. I didn't really. I have no shame or pride left at this point. Still.

So we ended up at a place which used to be run by a local meat market who used to process deer for hunters and I figured that overalls would be okay to wear there but damn if THEY had not switched owners and it was now something like The Florida Grill And Barbecue or something. I don't know. By this time, it was late and we were both hungry and I was, as I said, bitchy, so we went in and it was fine although the first person I saw there was WEARING A SEQUINED SHIRT AND GLITTERY PANTS, I SHIT YOU NOT.
Oh well.
I got a pulled barbecued chicken sandwich with fried okra and potato salad. We also got some fried pickles and if you've never had fried dill pickles then please try not to judge. They are actually pretty damn delicious, which is hardly shocking in that fried anything is not bad. Generally. 

But oh, those demons on my tongue wanted to dance and joust with their devil-tridents or whatever those things are that devils are always carrying, and I had to be very, very careful to keep washing them down with iced tea and fried pickles and I was not mean although I am sure that my husband could tell that I was not in the best of moods. After almost forty years together, we can read each other fairly well and also, after almost seventy years of life, I know that lashing out without real reason solves nothing and, in fact, makes things worse. 

There is more to this story but it is no more entertaining or enlightening than the first ten thousand words of this post are so I won't go into them. Suffice it to say that after lunch, my husband got a haircut in Monticello at the barbershop downtown where they still have the original bench along the wall for waiting customers and I went to Wag the Dog because I felt like doing some revenge shopping. Revenge for what, I have no idea. But I eased my anger a tiny bit by finding a beautiful crimson made-in-India tablecloth and a very pretty, decorated Fire King pie plate. 

Now isn't that just the sweetest thing? 
I have several fine pie plates but they are all 9 or 10 inchers and sometimes you just need a smaller one. Know what I mean? Three bucks. And the tablecloth was four dollars so all-in-all that was some pretty cheap revenge shopping. 

I picked the camellias in the photo at the top this afternoon. 

Here are two more pictures of the red and white variegated ones.

I am not sure of their name but I think they may be of the Tricolor Siebold variety. I just call them peppermints. They all grow on the same bush which is blooming its head off right now which I find seasonally appropriate.

Love...Ms. Moon

Eek! A Mouse In The House!

 Last night May sent this picture in the group text. She and Michael finally felt good enough to decorate their tree and in celebration they put on real clothes. Aren't they beautiful? 

She also sent me a picture of one of the Mary nightlights I'd made so many years ago. She said it is broken but wrapped lovingly. So. Here's that picture. 

Oh my. One of those precious artworks survives! 
Ha! 

Today was a Candie day, and she made it here after having been sick for the last few weeks. She's my cleaner, by the way, and one of Lily's very best friends. She calls me "Mama" and Glen either "Papa Moon" or "Dad." She'd asked if she could come a little early today and I said that yes, of course she could, but I'd probably still be asleep and I was. It was nice to wake up to the smell of THINGS GETTING CLEAN along with the coffee. She and I were standing in the kitchen, catching up, when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dart from near the refrigerator to under the old Hoosier cabinet.
"What in hell did I just see?" I asked. I thought I might have been hallucinating. 
"Where?" Candie asked. I pointed to where I'd seen the something and just as she turned to look, it scooted back across the floor to near the refrigerator again, hiding between it and the little dorm fridge where I keep my grains and beans. 
"A mouse!" We yelled. Candie said, "Should I get us a chair to stand on?"

We called for Mr. Moon and he came in and could indeed see it with a flashlight until it slipped under the refrigerator at which point we all quit worrying about it for the moment. 

A little while later I almost ran into the little thing over near the stove and Maurice saw it too which set off all her alarm bells. Boy, did she get agitated. 

Her tail went electric as she switched it back and forth and she would not take her eyes off the area where she'd last seen it. 
I have no idea if she got the mouse. I hope so. 
It is no mystery why a mouse is in my house. It's cold outside and the little guys want to be where it's warm and they can nibble cat food at night in the darkened kitchen. I think the chickens used to help keep the population down as they were avid mousers, catching and eating them whenever they could around the yard. 

Anyway, that was exciting. Especially for Maurice. 

I went to Jessie's house and we drove to an Indian restaurant where we ate delicious foods and chatted and then we went CHRISTMAS SHOPPING at World Market which was fun and fine for about twenty minutes at which point my anxiety switch got flipped for no apparent reason but that's how anxiety works. It's like I have a certain tolerance for being in public places and after the tolerance level has been exceeded, things go wacky. But I managed to find a few little giftys for Mr. Moon, none of which he'll probably want. We go through this every year. Neither of us need a damn thing and we get ourselves whatever we want. For example: I just got myself a new lid for my food processor! It came in the mail while I was out and he sent me a picture of the box. I told him what it was and said he could go ahead and open it up and he said, "No. I want you to unwrap it."
Merry Christmas!

Last year I went to Bass Pro Shop and got him some clothes and he never wore any of them but took them all back. They either did not fit him or just weren't comfortable. 
And get this- I did buy him a box of fancy chocolates a few weeks ago and hid it and now I have not the slightest idea where I stashed it. 
This is life in older age. 

But Jessie and I had a good time and then, when we came out of the store, guess who we saw? 
May! She is going to go back to work tomorrow but was out today to do laundry and look for some presents. That girl. It was so good to see her and I could hug her without worry. She was wearing a very professional looking mask. 

I have been asked what's in the shrimp salad that I posted a picture of yesterday. I will give you the ingredients but you will have to decide how much of each of them you want to use. Feel free to change it around as you wish. 

Lettuce- whatever kind you like but NOT ICEBERG. 

Avocado, cut into nice bite-sized pieces. Squeeze some lemon or lime juice on the pieces to prevent browning.

Seashell pasta. Small or medium. Or hell, macaroni. Whatever.

Corn. Our Norwegian Anne used to say, "A box of corn" but I think she meant can of corn. You can also use fresh or frozen.
Havarti cheese, also cut into small pieces. Or whatever kind of cheese you want. 
Tomatoes. Again- cut them into bite-sized pieces. I like to use cherry tomatoes. 
Hard-boiled eggs, sliced however you want to slice them.
Shrimp- boiled gently for just a minute or two until they turn pink. I use some Old Bay seasoning in the water that I cook them in. Peel the shrimp and cut them into bite-sized pieces too. If you want. Leave them whole if you don't. 

Combine all the ingredients. I like to make a little design with the hard-boiled eggs with the shrimp in a little pile in the middle. Do what you want. Add onion if you want. Or olives. Or...whatever.

The dressing I use on the salad is made of a mixture of Heinz Chili sauce and mayonnaise. You can add a little Miracle Whip in there if it suits your fancy. We call this "goop" and I should sue Gwyneth Paltrow because I've been calling it by that name long before she knew she had a vagina, much less had a company by that name which sells candles which are supposedly scented like hers. 
And by the way- I put the dressing in a separate bowl with a spoon so that people can serve themselves with however much goop delights them. It's nice to have some good bread on a side plate to go with.

And that is that. Now I'm going to go air-fry some fish and cook some grits. We eat quite well around here. 

Here's one more picture of Maurice that I took the other day.

That is her chair and I dare you to try and change her mind about that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Let's Hear It For The Old Boy- It's Keithmas

I feel quite certain that those will be the last roses I pick this year although I could be wrong and as you know, I frequently am. It's going to get cold tomorrow night but we've had several frosts and they're still blooming. 

Gosh. I've got a lot to talk about today. All pretty good stuff. The first thing I'd like to mention is that Rebecca, aka Radish King, aka Best Baker of Sourdough Bread in the world, poet, musician, and all around beloved daughter of the Animal Gods, has reopened the door on her blog for the first time in quite awhile. It's called Summer's End and may be found HERE.

I am so happy to be able to visit with her in this way again. I have missed her writing voice so very much. So- go and see her there yourself. She will welcome you. She is a love.

Ummm...because this blog seems to be more and more about food, I will now post a picture of what our shrimp salad looked like last night. 

This is the shrimp salad that the woman from Norway whom we met in Cozumel in 1987 and who came to live with us for about six months, taught me to make. It is one of our favorites. We will be having leftovers of that tonight along with leftover pizza so supper is basically done. 

Here's a picture that I had to take when I was passing through the laundry room and noticed the way the sun was shining through the delicate little fronds of the maidenhair fern.

The tiny spores on the backs of the fronds were highlighted by the sunlight pouring in through the window. 

I did a little garden weeding this afternoon and was actually chilly when I was in the shade. It felt so good to be out kneeling in the dirt. The turnips are starting to bulb and there are some carrots that, upon doing a little finger-digging, I found to be forming up. 
These things make my heart happy. 

And here's another thing that makes my heart happy- It is Keith Richards' 80th birthday as well as the 40th anniversary of his marriage to his beloved Patti Hansen. 

Some of you may not be aware of my deep (dare I say it?) love for Keith Richards. He is, as Hank pointed out, my spirit totem animal. You can have your wolves and your owls and your eagles. I choose Keith. 

Let us be clear. I never gave much thought at all to Keith Richards for most of my life. I mean- he was a Rolling Stone and I did love the Rolling Stones as almost every single person of my generation did and I give them credit for helping me to learn to own my own sexuality after being abused as a child. I loved the Beatles but it was the Stones who seemed dark and mysterious and dangerous. While the Beatles wanted to hold your hand, the Stones wanted to spend the night together- hugely racy for those days. 

But Mick was the pretty one. God, he was pretty. Keith was just...well. While Mick rooster strutted and said to the crowd, "You wouldn't want me pants to fall down would you?" Keith was just a simmering presence, often bending almost in half to play, his kohl-rimmed eyes never leaving the crowd, and he wore the most outrageous things which I later learned he stole from his girlfriend and partner, Anita Pallenberg, from blouses to scarves to pants. I recently listened to a podcast about an early Stone's USA tour and the guys interviewed, who were there, laughed about how Mick already had a wardrobe person while Keith would just show up wearing a Tibetan prayer flag around his neck and yet- it always worked. 

So. Okay. What I knew about Keith was that he was a junkie and that he had had all of his blood replaced in order to pass a drug test. 
Well, yes, he was a junkie but no, he never had his blood replaced. 

I found that out and many, many other things when I read Richards' memoir, Life, about thirteen years ago. I bought the book on a whim in Costco of all places. I'd heard good things about it and well- why not?

And from the first page I was hooked. Hooked on his story, hooked on him. It's truly an amazing book. It's an accurate and fascinating look-back on the times when the Stones started and beyond. It is the most honest memoir I've ever read. 

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Yes. Of course. 
But mostly? 
Music.

Which is what saved his life along with the love the man has for his children, his parents, his life.

And here we are and he is eighty years old and about to go on tour again. Slowly, steadily, over the decades he has let go of his addictions with the exception of music which is his deepest and most abiding fascination. 
He is, in a way, a sort of miracle, our Keith. For so many years when he was young, he was number one on every list of "next rock star to die." 

And yet, he did not die. 
And here he is, all these years later, still very much alive, still very much a musician- a performing musician- with a new album just released, still in the same band with his same lead singer he's had for over sixty years. 

Here's my favorite Keith video, I think. 

 

Obviously, he was in his drug-using days then but he was aware of a threat to his lead singer before security was, unstrapped his guitar, fends off the guy until security does take control, then straps the guitar back on, and begins to play again immediately. 
He has claimed since then that the guitar was still in tune. 

That was rock and roll. That was a rock star. 

But that's not why he's my spirit totem animal. It's because he went through all of that. He lived through all of that. It's because he is the riff-master and and wrote "Satisfaction" in his sleep. It's because he gives credit to every guitar player who ever taught him a lick. It's because he's had the same guitar wrangler and manager for a million years. It's because he once threatened to kill Donald Trump with a knife. It's because he's been married to the same woman for forty years. It's because his kids still love him beyond words. It's because he is who he is and who never tried to be anyone else because he never wanted to be anyone else, and because as he has aged, he has become so  very beautiful. 

There's a terrific documentary on him that streams on Netflix if you'd like to see it. It's called "Under the Influence."

Gold rings on ya, Keith. Happy birthday. Happy anniversary.

Love...Ms. Moon

More About My Husband

This is a 1960 Chevrolet Apache. It has been in the GarageMahal for years and years. Mr. Moon bought it as a project car, thinking he would bring it back to its full glory with a new engine but in all the years he's had it, I don't think he's done a damn thing to it. It's been sitting there right beside his Cutlass convertible which he has worked on sporadically for, uh, decades. The Cutlass does run. In fact, he started it today, thus probably killing a generation of mice who most likely were nesting in the engine. Or perhaps they're in the upholstery. I know they must be there somewhere.
Sigh.
Anyway, for reasons really unknown to me, a few days ago he put the truck up for sale on FB Marketplace and got a call this morning from a guy in Georgia who wanted it BAD! All he had to do was borrow a trailer from a friend and come and get it. They agreed on a price and as we speak, that vehicle is loaded up and about to move on out of the yard. The guy who bought it does bodywork. I do not mean he gives massages. I mean he does CAR bodywork. 
I'm going to tell you something- men who work on cars for a living, sell cars for a living, do whatever with cars for a living, are men who love cars. That's just the truth. And they can never own enough cars to make them happy. 
I sometimes fuss at my husband about the number of cars he's bought over the years and stored here for future renovation and what he always tells me is that these cars are investments which of course validate their purchases. 
And surprisingly to me, he's not wrong. He made quite a bit of money on that vehicle. I have to tell you I was shocked. 
I wonder what will go in that garage bay next. For all I know he's already bought another car and will be moving it in tomorrow. 

So. While he made a bunch of money and cleared out part of his garage today, I trimmed some sabal palm fronds. These are another small source of disagreement between the man and me. I love my palms and Tom gave me almost all the ones I have planted in this yard which was bare of palms when we moved in except for the sago palms which are not palms at all. Four of the ones I've planted have gotten rather large. Don't tell anyone I said this, but I probably planted two of them a little too close to the front porch and possibly too close together. I am as bad at envisioning what mature plants will look like as I am at knowing what size container to put the leftovers in. 
HOWEVER, my thoughts were this- as the palms grow, it will only be their trunks that are directly in front of the house on either side of the porch steps. They grow like this.

See what I'm saying here? 
And I still believe this although they don't grow very fast and so the fronds can block passageways and get caught in your car door if you park too close to them and stuff like that which for some reason, annoys Mr. Moon a great deal. 

So today I got out the loppers I may have gotten for Christmas last year or perhaps it was Valentine's Day, and cut the most offending fronds. Not a hard job. But unlike pulling up crocosmia, you can see the results of your work. There is SO much in the yard I need to do and it is difficult not to despair over that fact when I get out there to do any little thing but I try to remember that it is a constant process of step-by-step. 

These are blooming in the little area by the kitchen by the bananas right now. 

I figured they were some sort of daffodil but did not know specifically. My plant ID app says they are bunchflower daffodils or paper whites or any of another dozen names. I did not plant these pretty little things. They were here when I moved in. Now see all that green stuff growing around the daffs? That's the horrendous chenille plant which is in strong competition with the border grass and crocosmia and bamboo to take over the yard. 
I did not plant those either and I wish that no one had. 

Why couldn't they have just planted palms? And camellias? 

Oh well. 

Here's a picture of one of the pizzas I made last night.

I felt just like the Little Red Hen when she made her lovely little pizza.

 Here's the one I made specifically for Glen.

We ate our slices with delicious salad on them and finished watching "The Family Stone" after which I cried and thanked my husband for watching that movie with me AGAIN and he hugged me and said, "I know you love that love stuff."
Here's what cracked me up- he does too. 
The Car Guy loves the love stuff. 
Again- don't tell anyone. 

Tonight- shrimp salad! Greens from the garden, shrimp from the gulf of Mexico, and so on and so forth. And if my bread dough ever rises sufficiently, whole wheat/oat bran bread to go with it. 

Overall, a fine Sunday here in Lloyd.

Love...Ms. Moon

At Least These Days When I Say I'm Late It Does Not Mean I'm Pregnant

Here I am, late again today. You know my routine is so damn important to me and it wouldn't matter so much but it involves the timing of when I get our supper made. Mr. Moon does not like to wait until what would be a proper suppertime in Spain. He would probably like to eat at six p.m. which I am not having. But I do try to get food on the table by eight, at least. And because I MUST write my blog post before I cook dinner, I need to start that process somewhere about five. 
There is more to all of it than this but that's the general story. 

I'm late today because I made some soup for May and took it to town and stopped at Publix, too. I talked to her this morning and she sounded good. She said she's had worse cases of the flu but she still hasn't been this sick in quite awhile. Same for Michael. I asked her if she'd like some mama-made soup and she said that yes, she would. I gave her several options and she chose a lentil and vegetable soup and so I made a pot of that. I did not have a huge selection of vegetables but did have plenty of greens and carrots, celery, onions, garlic, and tomatoes. I am not thrilled with how it turned out but as I told her, it has good things for her in it.

Michael's diet is the complete opposite of May's. Whereas she's been a vegetarian since she was about thirteen or so and who eats very clean, he loves hamburgers and all of the meaty things that May never touches. So I'm sure he didn't want any of the soup which is okay because he is happy with the canned soup that Rachel took over yesterday for them. I also took May her fruitcake and by golly, if the damn fruitcake did not end up falling INTO the soup container! 
Good Lord. 
As I said when I opened up the bag I was carrying them in and saw what had happened, "Fucking Tupperware!" She reports that the fruitcake is fine though because I had wrapped it so well.
Phew.

It was so good to see my girl, even though we were all masked and stood some distance apart. May is so damn sweet and so damn funny. We're alike in too many ways to count. I've always said that between the two of us, one is redundant. But it's a lovely redundancy to me. I had to touch her, which I did so very briefly. I put my hands around her beautiful face and even in that brief touch, I could feel her fever. 

I did a quick run through Publix to get milk and bleach and a few other things that I cannot live without. And look what they had.

The prettiest little blue spruce in a pot. I wish I'd seen that before I decorated my tree. Oh well. Maybe next year. 

So yes, I did that and by the time I got home it was almost 4:30 and I wanted to go pick salad greens on this chilly, drizzly evening because I'm going to make us a pizza and you know how we love to eat our pizza with a very simple oil and vinegar salad on it, heavy on the arugula. And then I had to start the pizza dough which I always make in my food processor but because I have not yet gotten a new lid and my work-around isn't working any more, I had to transfer it all to the Kitchen Aid because god forbid I just knead the dough myself. I was in a hurry! 
So by the time all of that was done, it was basically NOW. 

It's been raining all day and is going to possibly be stormy tomorrow and the temperature will start dropping again. Mr. Moon went and helped Tom bring his plants inside. He is such a good guy. Tom seems to be hanging in there. 

We're going to have to move some of my plants too, I suppose. I'm very surprised that they didn't get more frost-bit the week that Glen was gone to Tennessee and it got so chilly. I mean- the bananas froze. I'm just glad my porch plants didn't. 

I suppose I better get in that kitchen and start grating cheese and chopping vegetables. I swear to you that I am only going to make a simple pizza tonight. SIMPLE! Or, pizzas, probably. The man does love a Hawaiian Pizza with ham and pineapple and although I have no problem with that, I'd rather have a spinach and artichoke heart pizza. With of course onions and peppers and so forth. 

We've been watching the old Christmas movie "The Family Stone" which is streaming on Hulu (I think) as we eat our suppers and I have to tell you that I love this movie. It has a stellar cast and it is funny and heartbreaking and I have probably seen it at least five times and am enjoying watching it again. 

It absolutely may not be your cup of egg nog but it is definitely mine. 

May agrees. She loves it too.

All righty. Really. Time to cook! 
Seriously.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. Lily sent a text today with a picture of Gibson when she took him to visit the Cat Cafe which is a place where you can hang out with cats while having a coffee or a glass of wine or some other beverage. The cats there are up for adoption.

Lily said he was in heaven and when they went in, he said, "I'm literally shaking." He even cried a little and said, "I'm so happy."

I'm thinking there may be a new member of the family this Christmas. We shall see. 

Our precious, darling, loving Gibson.

I Went To A Church

 Today's camellias. 

About three years ago I bought a really lovely dress that was on drastic sale in the Sundance catalog and wore it exactly once to go see Lon and Lis play. I came home, hung it up, Covid happened, and I never wore it again.
Until today.
I wore it to a funeral.

I surprised my husband by telling him this morning that I would go to the funeral of his hunting buddy's wife today. I know he did not expect me to go. Not only were there going to be many people there, it was in a church. An Episcopal church, to be exact.

I think the last church funeral I went to was also an Episcopal service but that was in Monticello. Episcopalians seem to be rather groovy people in that although they do have a lot of ceremony going on and use chalices and wear fancy robes and so forth, they don't appear to me to be very judgmental or hell and brimstoneish. I had a friend who was of that faith and he was funny as hell and a great guy, liberal and empathetic too. I heard him once say that Episcopalian churches didn't have evening services because they're all drunk by that time of the day. 
That is probably a joke. Still- a religion that can joke is a good thing too.

So both Mr. Moon and I got dressed up. I even wore what passes for stockings. They may have been or they may have been tights. I have no idea. And real shoes! And that velvet dress. I put on make-up. It was as good as it can get for me these days. 

We were late getting there, slipping in the door right as the bell-ringing portion of the service started. The church was full and we ended up being directed to sit in the third row from the front and there were no people in the first two rows on that side so we had an unobstructed view of the proceedings. 

It was a long service with many Bible verses and prayers, speaking by the family members, the priest's sermon, and hymns. And they also did communion wherein everyone in the church could walk down the aisle, get bread from the priest, and then walk over to the guy with the chalice of wine to either dip their bread in or sip from. If they wanted. And if you didn't want to do any of those things, you could cross your arms in front of your chest and the priest would just give you a blessing. Also, he assured us that we did not have to be Episcopalian to participate because he believes that Jesus loves us all. That was a nice touch.
Glen and I did not sing, we did not say the Bible verses, we did not make the responses, we did not kneel. And needless to say, we did not get in line for the blood and body of Christ or the blessing. 

But overall, it was a good service, I guess, and I don't think I embarrassed my husband which was my main goal. I even kept the eye-rolling to a minimum because we were directly in front of the priest as he sermonized. And we were there for Glen's friend and the children.

I am so glad that my husband is with me on the religion thing. At one point today during a prayer, I wondered what I would do if he suddenly because a believer. These things do happen. I just don't think I could deal with it if he did. 

Anyway, we're home now, both of us changed out of our fancy clothes and back into our overalls, comfortable and glad to be. The martini glasses are in the freezer, clean sheets are on the bed, greens are cooking on the stove. The frogs are singing with true joy in the swamp behind the house and somehow, I feel closer to whatever the powers that be in the universe are right here on my back porch than I did in that church today. This is not a surprise. 

May reported this morning that they were feeling pretty shitty. Michael's throat was very sore and May had a terrible headache. Rachel asked for a grocery list and May gave her one. Rachel is a jewel. 

And so it has gone today. I did not cause the beautiful old church where the service was held to be struck by lightening by my presence and I did not bust out laughing at the way white people drone their parts in church as if they were robots, even when the words they are flatlining are words of joy and celebration. And don't get me started on the way we sing hymns. Basically, it sounds like, "How many more verses of this can there possibly be?"

Here's the puzzle I just finished last night. 

And now perhaps it is time to move on to making a name blanket or decorating some madonna nightlights. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon

Where Does The Time Go?

Here's what Maggie's name blanket looked like. I wasn't finished with that one but I was close. 

August's looked like this.

And here's Gibson's.

Basically, it's just a warm and cozy blanket, very simply made, with the child's name on it that in theory they can keep forever.
If they want. 
I do believe that all of my children still have theirs. I remember when I made Hank's and May's, I made them matching nightgowns or pajamas. That was when I was still all homemakery and shit. 

I have done almost nothing today but it has taken me all day to do it. I swear. First thing I had to cross off my list was getting in touch with my insurance company because the new card they sent me has some doctor listed on it as my primary care physician that I've never even heard of. I had called before on December 4th, right after we got our new cards and I talked to the sweetest woman who promised me that she would take care of the issue and would call me back THAT VERY DAY to let me know she'd done it. 
She even told me that she was "sincerely sorry from the bottom of my heart," that this trouble had happened. 
Huh.
I have to say that this company has been excellent in all other regards. Hell, I'll tell you their name- it's United Health Care and it's offered by AARP which of course is bringing the Rolling Stones to a venue near you next year! So I've been a little surprised that this problem came up in the first place and was not dealt with in a timely matter. 
However, the woman I spoke with today (and you can always speak to a representative fairly quickly) just got it done. Supposedly. Now we shall see if I get a new card updated with my true PCP- my beloved Dr. Zorn. 

But making calls like this are very stressful for me. So I was glad to get that done. 

Then I unwrapped the fruit cakes and re-wrapped them with more rum-soaked cheese cloth and then swaddled them tightly again in their aluminum foil wrappings. This wasn't too stressful although I have to tell you that I'm not any good at making things look tidy and these cakes now look like some sort of lab experiment from the early nineteenth century or maybe, extra parts from The Mummy. 
Whatever. They have gotten a little more of that precious preservative and flavoring- the spiced rum- and will be even better by Christmas. 

After that, I got some things ready to mail that I've been meaning to do for about a month, and that IS stressful. Don't ask me why. It may have something to do with me feeling like whatever I mail looks like it was packed by a four-year old and also, I always feel like what I'm mailing is vastly inferior to anything that anyone sends me. 
And those are true facts. So. I am not just being all whack here. 

Still, something is better than nothing and now that is done. 

The biggest news around here (and it's not good news) is that May and Michael have covid. They have taken the most precautions of anyone I know but May does work with the public five days a week so I suppose it was inevitable. We are all hoping they have very light cases and coast through them with minimal pain and symptoms. 
The group text in which May announced this news was filled with offers of groceries and help from all the family along with love and wishes of swift recovery. 
However. 
Hank's text, in my honest opinion, gets the Best Text Ever Written Award. 

Could I love my family any more? 
I do not think so. 

Could I be any luckier?

Again...no. 

Be well, y'all. If I could, I would bless everyone with a family wherein if someone gets sick, offers of everything from a small or large hat to a tiger bomb to soft, soft blankets pour in for comfort and restoration of health. 
Also- Hank- I see what you did there with the cats and books. Jo and Beth. I love you so.

Love...Ms. Moon