Beauty (Brenda) And The Beast (Anxiety)

There's our beautiful Brenda. She was one of the greeters at Costco today and I was so happy to see her. I asked if I could take her picture for the blog and she said, "Sure!" So there she is. Brenda is not only beautiful, she gives the best hugs ever and every time I see her she makes me feel better. I hope I make her feel the same way. 

I was back in town again because Hank asked if I could take him to try on his suit one more time to see if it needed anything and of course I could. I was so very impressed with the man who has helped Hank on this suit-buying journey. Absolutely professional in every way and obviously very knowledgable in the field of suit fitting for men. The shop where Hank chose to get his has been where the men of Tallahassee who want a fine, tailored suit have been going since 1950. So obviously, if you are getting your first suit at the age of forty-eight, you want to go see the guys at Nic's. 
Their alterations lady was there too and she asked me, "How about your dress?"
"Funny story there," I said, and told her about my slip woes. I may end up taking it to her to see what she says. I really do not know. But I better figure something out. The wedding is a week from Saturday. 
I gave Hank his pocket square and he said that it was exactly what he was thinking of. I am so happy about that. 

I took Hank back home after the final fitting and then Jessie and I got together for lunch AGAIN! We really just love to talk. And, well, eat. Let's not fool ourselves. And then I went on to Costco and Publix because although yes, I had been to both of those places on Monday, we were out of certain necessary things like milk. And tomatoes. I generally buy tomatoes at Costco and I get the cherry ones because they have far more flavor year-round than the larger ones do. Today though, they had something new.

Hot-house grown heirlooms. From Canada. When I think of the carbon footprint of these things, I feel like I should hide my head and cover myself in sackcloth and ashes but instead, I just buy the things and think, "Well, that's pretty cheap!" 
I'll give them a try. 

So it's Halloween and here are some pictures from last night that Jessie sent out of the boys and pumpkins. And Sophie who looks like she's not quite sure of this whole situation.

The finished products.

Levon insisted on doing every bit of his pumpkin himself so Jessie gave him his pumpkin and a knife and let him do his thing. Those are Pit Viper sunglasses that his pumpkin is wearing. You can tell, right? 

August, on the other hand, told Jessie what he was envisioning but he wanted his mama to carve it for him and so she did. 

Those boys are like beans and rice. So very different but they go together so very well. 

I imagine the family is all getting together at Lily's right now for their Halloween supper and subsequent Trick-Or-Treating. Part of me wishes I was there but I'm not sure I could deal with the incredible amount of noise and activity that five children and seven adults can make at one of our gatherings. Add in all the children who are mad with the thirsting for candy like vampires thirst for blood and, well, no. 
 
I may have spoken too soon yesterday about feeling better as I've had a most anxious day. Not horrible, terrible, awful but enough to affect me in ways I do not enjoy. I'm still optimistic though. It's not like these meds work on a perfectly incremental schedule. 

Sigh.

Mr. Moon took off to go lake fishing this morning and he needed that. He just texted me to tell me that he's on his way home which is good because I was starting to panic. I was only a few inches away from that anyway, so no big deal. I think we may all be teetering on the brink of panic right now, waiting for this election and are probably all displaying signs of how that affects us, whether physical or emotional. 

Let's be kind to ourselves, okay? Let's try and be as gentle as we can with ourselves and others and know that it's okay to avoid situations that are going to make us feel completely overwhelmed and uncomfortable. If possible. 

Love...Ms. Moon

It's A Slow News Day Here

My brain better come up with something sassy in the next six seconds because that picture sums up the most interesting thing I did today. 
Six...Five...Four...Three...Two...One!

Nope.

Okay. Those bricks are what I found and dug up in the area by the fence that I'm clearing. I also found a piece of a coke bottle, a very small piece of pottery, and an iron railroad spike. It's too bad those things aren't worth a dime because we have many in this yard. 

I also dug up the stump of an old cabbage palm which did not transplant successfully some years ago. That sounds more impressive than it was because the poor old thing was rotten enough that I could dig it out with my trowel which I did because I was too lazy to walk all the way over to the garden and get a shovel. 
Oh well. 
Honestly, I really enjoyed the work today. It is hot but in the eighties, not the nineties, so that was okay. I'm getting pretty good at digging crocosmia bulbs. While I worked I listened to my latest borrowed audio book from the library and I am enjoying it. "The Keeper of Stories" by Sally Page. I thought it was going to be too saccharin and  it is pretty sweet, but it's got enough cussing in it to keep me interested. Pretty good characters too. Sometimes I feel like I have listened to every book our area libraries have to offer or at least the ones that I have any interest at all in listening to. This one has a good narrator too and that always helps. So that added to my pleasure. 
With my eyes I am reading Sheila Kay Adams' "My Old True Love" and although I cannot believe I've never read it before, I seriously do not remember one bit of it so maybe I haven't. I just looked her up and she is not just a good author, but also a seventh-generation ballad singer and claw hammer banjo player. She was born and raised in North Carolina and comes by her stories and songs naturally. I very much recommend "My Old True Love." 

Now. Speaking of North Carolina- the latest news from Black Mountain is that Vergil's family has power! Somehow a crew got up that mountain and hooked them up. I hear the crew was Spanish speaking which does not surprise me. I do not know where they come from but sure, Trump, go ahead, round them up, put them in camps, and then "remigrate" them. And then watch the American economy tank because there's no one to do the work that keeps this country fed, housed, and tended to. 

The restoration of power up there had to be quite some achievement. The way the family is getting on and off the mountain is by using the tractor on the trail they've cut, down to where there's a road and their cars are parked. And I hear that some schools are reopening. The strength and spirit of people just amaze me. I think that if it had been me up there I would have just crawled into a hole and died. And I am not kidding. 

Well, I guess that tomorrow is Halloween and as usual, we will do nothing to recognize the holiday. Not that we have anything against Halloween but no one in Lloyd seems to Trick or Treat or at least not in our little area. There seem to be no children which, come to think of it, is pretty odd. We're all old people! I used to buy some candy to have just in case someone was brave enough to try and get through the palm fronds blocking the pathway to our porch which, even without decorations looks pretty haunted. But I finally realized that we were just going to end up eating the candy because you know I only bought our favorites. Sometimes my grandchildren save their mini Almond Joys for me which I love. They're all getting together tomorrow night at Lily's house for a fun supper and cousin Trick or Treating together. 
Here's a picture that came up on my Facebook memories today from six years ago.

As I said on FB, How many times have I posted this? Not enough times, that's how many.

I'll add one more thing here. It may be that I am starting to feel the effects of doubling the dosage (per my GP's instructions!) of one of my anti-depressants. I am not waking up and crying and although I do have some anxiety, it is so much tamer than it has been. 
I'll take that any day. 

Look- if you suffer from depression and/or anxiety and have not explored the option of medication, I strongly suggest that you do. You deserve not to live a life of suffering if you don't have to. 

That's all I got today.

Love...Ms. Moon

What Jessie Did

You will never guess what I did today but that picture may give you a hint. 

Jessie's been taking pottery classes at the local arts and crafts center for awhile and she has been urging me to go with her. I've been intrigued by the idea of pottery-making ever since I went to a camp when I was about sixteen that had a wheel and a teacher who showed me a few things and it's always been at the back of my mind that I would like to learn more.
But, but, but...
I mean, I'd have to GO there and I'd have to talk to people and I'd have to disturb my routine and that is just all a lot for me. Also, the class starts at 9:30 in the morning which is about the time I am generally having my second cup of coffee. In Lloyd. Which is at least a half hour away from where the classes are in Tallahassee.
So I kept hemming and hawing and finally, when a new season of classes began, Jessie just signed me up, paid for it, and then told me about it. 
That child. 
She is the boss of me.  
But who isn't?
Sigh.

So this morning I got up at 7:30 and you know what? It's not even light at that ungodly hour. It is dark. You have to turn the light on to brush your teeth. Who voluntarily DOES this? 
You? Well. Good for you. I don't. 

But I did today. And I got to Jessie's house a few minutes late which was fine. She has told me repeatedly that this class is really laid back and that most of the people in it are around my age and I know she was far more interested in getting me out and into some sort of socialization than she was in me learning how to make a bowl. She made it all so easy though, that I really had no choice but to go to the class with her. And she was so sweet to me, showing me where things were, how to do certain things and she'd bought the clay and a set of tools for me. I wasn't nervous in the least and felt comfortable right away. The teacher intimidated me a little bit but overall, she's cool. Two of the other members of the class were new too, so we were all learning together. 
I can't say I'm any damn good at throwing clay onto a wheel and whether or not I'll ever make anything that resembles a decorative or utilitarian item is yet to be seen. Out of three tries, I got one small bowl that I would not use to put cat food in. Gayle, the teacher, told me that it was a fine bowl for my first try but then I pointed out that she'd made most of it. And she had, while demonstrating for me. 
Meanwhile, Jessie made three bowls that I'd be proud to call mine and I think this was her first work on the wheel. She did free-form things during the last session. 
It's too early to tell if I can feel an affinity for the other women but I can't see why not. We didn't really talk much about anything but clay and clay-related issues. But a few comments were made that led me to believe we are not that different, especially the older ladies and me, including Gayle. We appear to all be old hippies and the younger women seem to be on a similar philosophical level but I could be wrong about that. 

So I did that today and of course Jessie and I had to go get lunch and then I took her to go pick up her car which had been serviced and I came on home where I made a soup with many, many vegetables in it.

 

And a little beef. There are tomatoes, cabbage, green beans, carrots, onions, peas, corn, celery...what else? Maybe that's all. Oh! Potatoes, of course. Also some left over salad and cauliflower. 
Let us just call it Peter Rabbit's Favorite Vegetables Soup. 
Despite not wanting to make a huge pot of the stuff, you know I kept adding things until there was no more room to add anything. 

I am so grateful to Jessie for getting me out of the house today and knowing what would make it worthwhile for me to do so. It's funny. I have taken all my children at one time or another for summer day camps or art classes at that Arts and Crafts center. When I met Glen, he was playing volleyball there. Levon and August go to after-school there where I have picked them up many times.
And yet today was the first time I ever participated in one of their offered activities. 
That's pretty crazy. 

Well, so is life. 
And I learned a few things today, mainly that you need to use your body for strength instead of your wrists, sometimes the wheel does not need to spin so fast, and that after you play with clay, you need to clean up your space. Already- good rules for life, too. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Seemingly Necessary Folly

When Mr. Moon and I went to Monticello on Friday to celebrate our anniversary by early voting, he wanted to go into the courthouse to look up legal documents on some real estate. While he did that I walked across the street to see what Wag The Dog had but before I went in there, I stopped at a little shop right next to it that the last time I went in was so potpourri-ed and polyestered that it held no interest for me but I'd seen these lamps in the window that had been intriguing me for weeks, if not months, and I thought I'd pop in and see what they were asking for them. 
To my surprise and delight, the store is now a vintage place with some very old things and some not-so-old but interesting things and I wandered around to check it all out. There was nothing that really made my heart sing and I was about to leave when I saw that purse you see above, hanging with some other regular, more conventional purses, and it might as well have reached out, grabbed me, and covered me in kisses. 
I don't think I've discussed my purse obsession lately and in fact, I have not bought a new purse in well over a year which is a sort of record for me. Unlike my staunch monogamy when it comes to marriage, I can be tempted like a tart when it comes to cheating on my purse with a new one. 
I took the purse off the bar it was hung on and I did the thing where you open it up and check out all the pockets and the sections and, if it's a pre-owned bag, as this one is, you have to get in there and smell it and feel it and squeeze it a little. You have to put it on your shoulder and see how that feels. 
My favorite purses are bag-like. Or maybe sack-like. The leather has to be soft. Very soft. I don't like structured bags. I just do not. It may be that in a former lifetime I was some sort of herb gatherer or something and carried a bag I'd made myself from a hide that I had tanned and probably chewed until it was soft as butter although butter had probably not been invented at that time. 
Bags, bowls, and baskets make me happy. Things that hold things. I believe it's uterine-related. 
So back to this purse. It smelled good. Someone had obviously restored the leather beautifully. No stains on the lining, the snaps and zippers all worked. It was practically perfect in every way but it was so big. Big. Bigger than I need. Big like you could put two newborns in it if you had to. 
Or even just wanted to. 
I sighed inwardly and put it back with the other purses and looked around some more but it kept calling me back. 
"Mary. No one else will appreciate me like you do," it crooned. And I knew without a doubt that if I did not buy it, I would be coming back later to do just that. 
So, I bought it. 

It really is way too big for me. I hardly ever see newborns that need toting around. I could seriously use it as an overnight bag. Easily.
But, I transferred the contents of my old purse into the new one and that gave me a little buyer's remorse because my things in no way come close to filling all that space WHICH I DO NOT NEED but I now own a beautiful, soft, squishy, Italian leather bag that pleases me on some very deep and primitive level. 
If any of my children want the bag, I might give it to them but before I do that or decide to just keep it as an overnight bag, I want to carry it for awhile, just for the pleasure of it. 

I took it to town today and it behaved itself very well. I had an odd experience, though. I have the dress I want to wear to Hank and Rachel's wedding and I ordered a beautiful slip to go under it because it is shockingly sheer. The slip has gorgeous lace on the bottom which will peek out from under the hem of the dress which is fine with me but there is a flaw in the plan- the bodice of the slip comes up higher than the bodice of the dress. So I took it to the alterations lady who has done such good work for me and showed her what I wanted. She was horrified. "No. It's wrong!" 
Her English is not so good and whatever language her native one is not a language that I know one word of. I think our previous conversations have consisted of, "Try on," "I know!" and "Yes, yes." 
And I thought that's how it would go today but she insisted that it would be wrong to cut the bodice lower and I really do not understand why but she's the expert. She even told me- "I could make money doing this for you but it's wrong! No!" 
Okay. 

And so I thanked her and packed up my slip and I guess that I'll just be going to the wedding with a slip that shows both on the top and on the bottom and that will be the way it is. 
I can see it now. Someone will say, "Hey! Your slip is showing!" and I'll be like, "Oh no! Where?" Lily suggested that I just decorate the part of the slip that will show at the neckline. Like with fancy beads or something. Not a bad idea but I think not. 

La-di-dah. La-di-dah.

Shrimp salad tonight. The shrimp, eggs, and pasta are all cooked and in the refrigerator. I bought Bibb lettuce at the store but did some picking in the garden to add to it for substance and flavor. The garden really isn't looking that bad. It's just a little slow.

Meanwhile, the compost pile is looking great with sprouting potatoes and avocado plants galore.

And that spot gets almost no sun at all and is never watered so go figure.

Would you look at these roses?

They're my anniversary roses and they just keep opening and looking more velvety gorgeous every day. 

And I never even asked the price of the lamps that lured me into the shop in the first place. All thoughts of them flew out of my head when I saw that soft, soft leather. Don't know where I'd put them anyway. But I might have to go back and check them out. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Meaning Of Music

A month or so ago my son asked me to make him a pocket square to wear when he walks down the aisle with Rachel. He wanted something from his mama and that pleased me so. But you know me- I have fretted and fretted and fretted over this pocket square situation. I needed something that would not clash with their colors which are lavender, sage, and gray? I think gray. Anyway, no teal or turquoise, probably. I went through my fabric over and over again without finding anything that came close to what I had in mind. I thought about using a piece of material cut out of an old garment that I've held on to because it was  meaningful to me but none of what I have seemed anywhere near right. 
And besides that, what actually IS a pocket square? How big is it? Is it really a square? Somehow I missed the memo on pocket squares. I googled it and discovered that a pocket square can be between a 10 by 10 inch square up to a 17 by 17 inch square. 
That's a pretty big range there. And how do you finish a pocket square? I had in mind the term, "rolled handkerchief hem" for some reason and I looked that up and yes, that is how you finish a pocket square. With a rolled hem. So what's a rolled hem? How do you do that? 
YouTube to the rescue! I think there are instructions for everything that can be done on YouTube. I would not doubt that there's a video on how to remove your own appendix on YouTube. I found quite a few instructional videos on how to do a rolled hem and what I discovered is that although there are various techniques, every one of the demonstrator sewing ladies was as calming and serene-sounding as gentle rain falling on flower petals. They soothed me, those rolled hem ladies. 
But just as I was really starting to panic over what I was going to use to do a rolled hem on, I looked at the curtain in my guest room. It was a piece of vintage bark cloth that Linda Sue sent me. I passionately love bark cloth. It screams "old Florida" to me. It reminds me of my grandparents and all of their friends' homes. Every piece of it I have is being used somewhere as a curtain or a covering except for one piece that is waiting for me to discover what it was put here on earth to do in my house. 
So the bark cloth that had been my guest room curtain filled most of the qualifications as to color and I figured that Hank, being a Florida boy, born and bred, would like the bark cloth. 
And so I made the pocket square out of a piece of my curtain and up until this very second I had not considered the fact that Scarlett O'Hara made an emerald green velvet dress out of her mother's curtains to wear to charm/seduce Rhett Butler into giving her a bunch of money. 

And yes, I have seen the Carol Burnett skit about that and no, I do not need to see it again. 

And honestly, the pocket square and Scarlett's dress have nothing in common except that they both started out as curtains. 

I finished up the pocket square this afternoon while I also finished watching something that Mr. Moon and I started a few nights ago. It was "Road Diary: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band". 
As some of you may know, I have had a long and torrid affair with Bruce and the E Street Band. Every one of them. But let's face it- mostly Bruce, although when Clarence Clemons was still on this earth, it was a tight race for whom my most heartfelt affections fell to. When he died, I mourned him as if he'd been my own. I wrote a post fifteen years ago about Bruce and Clarence that I still love. The first time I ever went to see Bruce and the E Street Band was probably in about 1979 or so. It was in Jacksonville, Florida and the concert shattered my perception of what a concert, a band, and a performance could be and then it took all the shattered pieces of my mind and put them back together better in such a way that I was so much the better for the experience. 

I saw Bruce and the band again in Tallahassee in 1984, I think, and he was hot off the "Born in the USA" release. Again, I was taken to places that no one on the planet could have taken me to except for Bruce.
Look. You know that phrase that everyone's using now? The one that goes, "If you know, you know"? I've come to truly dislike the phrase as it seems to signal a smug assumption of rare and very hip knowledge but in the case of Bruce Springsteen- if you know you know. And a lot of people do.

So I watched the rest of the movie today as I was stitching and although Bruce has changed somewhat in the forty-five years when I first saw him, that spirit he has, that joy he shares, that absolute connection he has with his audience and the amazing group of musicians who are his band- it's all still there. 
So is his voice, his guitar skills, his showmanship, his passion, his obvious pure purpose to communicate and give and receive. 
He is, quite simply, the Boss.

It's funny. I looked at the faces of the people in the crowd and some of them looked at him with such adoration and passion that it was like watching the crowd at some mega-church revival. The spirit of SOMETHING was upon them all and it was being channeled through Bruce Springsteen who was in control of every flutter of his eyes, every note from his throat, every look he gave his band. 
"This could be a cult," I thought. And it could. You have no idea of the devotion and faithfulness of some of his fans. Followers? And yet, it's not a cult because he demands nothing from his audiences, and in fact, seems to want more than ever to simply bring people together for the three hours he performs (no breaks) in music and in joy. 

Ooh boy. I did not mean to go there. And yet I did. I cried a lot watching the film. If there is a more powerful performer in this world, I do not know who they would be. 

So what I am saying, I think, is that Hank's pocket square is imbued with some serious Bruce energy and perhaps a few Bruce induced tears. He was raised listening to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band's music. I think I've heard him say that when he hears Springsteen, he thinks of me housecleaning. I used to blast his music high when I cleaned because I've always hated cleaning but somehow, Bruce made it a danceable, singable event. 

Here's another view of the pocket square.

Love...Ms. Moon

P.S. It just occured to me that I had not mentioned the fact that Bruce wrote all of the songs. It may be that he is a better songwriter than he is a performer. I'm not going to even try to parse that but he wouldn't be performing the way he does if he hadn't written the songs he wrote. He is a poet and a philosopher. He is quite simply the Boss. 

We Have Crabs

Y'all are just the sweetest people. Thank you so much for all of your words of encouragement and support yesterday and of course, for the anniversary congratulations. And for every day, really.

Mr. Moon got up early this morning to go fishing. Normally he would have gone to the coast the night before to save himself that pre-dawn drive but it was our anniversary. I got up at a reasonable hour and as I do on many, many days, asked myself why? 
Because I have to pee, usually. The body's needs do compel, do they not? And once you're up you might as well brush your teeth and go drink some coffee. I guess.

I haven't been talking much about the garden, have I? I just haven't felt a great deal of interest in it lately. This is not a good sign. And part of that is because so much of it isn't growing very well. We have been so dry. But I do water regularly. Most of the problem is that although the garden is probably in the sunniest spot on the property, the trees that are around it have grown in size tremendously since we moved here and it's never gotten enough sun as it is. Everything except the arugula looks puny although I am getting enough in the way of different greens to augment our salads and make them far more interesting. And the Mexican and Thai basil plants are still sturdy, huge, and especially in the case of the Mexican variety, attracting more bees than I've ever seen in my life. The plant is nearly alive with them and they vary in species. They are worth planting for that alone. And I do love their flavors in salads, especially. 

But overall, I just don't have the usual daily curiosity to go out and see what's happening out there. So today I weeded, although there really were not many weeds at all, and I thought I'd do some thinning but nothing looks like it needs that either. So. 
But there are still a few zinnias blooming in one bag planter. The photo up top is one of them and here's another. 

I will be planting those candy-stripe ones again next year. 
If I remember. That prospect is definitely not guaranteed. 

It's gotten horribly hot again here. Not as bad as July or August but enough to make working outside an unpleasant experience. High temperatures in the upper 80's. I can go an hour at a time and that's it. Today I did an hour in the garden, came in, cooled off, went back out and worked on the area inside the fence by the driveway. While I was pulling crocosmia corms I was wondering, as usual, what in hell we're going to be able to put there that won't spread but will grow even in the dense shade. And then it occurred to me- we should put a little brick patio in and add a fountain of some sort. I find a lot of bricks in that space and wonder if that has been done before. I talked to Glen about it and he is not adverse to the idea. He got home early today because they had engine trouble on the boat and had to come back to shore. I'm glad they weren't very far out when this happened. 
He stopped on his way home and bought a bounty of seafood. Shrimp and blue crab claws and four enormous stone crab claws. 
Stone crabs can only be taken during certain months and only claws of a particular size may be taken and then the crab is put back in the water where they will regrow that claw. This is what the four he bought look like.

And to add scale and interest, that is a sprig of the Mexican basil.

I may heat them up or may not. They are cooked already. And I will make some sort of sauce and melt some butter too. 

We will go to work with hammers and crackers and picks and forks to get the meat from them. It will be worth it. 

And there is leftover coconut cream pie which turned out to be fine. 

Another day lived and another day I am so looking forward to sleep. 

Love...Ms. Moon

So This Happened...

Here is what I wrote last night and did not publish:

I just don't even know what to write today. I got a phone call this morning that I did not want to get and things have been weird since. I guess I might as well go ahead and tell you what the call was about because one way or the other I will be talking about it eventually.

It was a nurse from doctor Zorn's office and I knew exactly what it was about. There wasn't anything else it could have been and sure enough- the nurse wanted to schedule a telecom appointment with Dr. Z to discuss the results of my Cologuard test. 
"This does not sound good," I said and I literally felt as if I'd been punched in the chest. 
The nurse did not reply to my remark because of course she didn't but instead asked if this would be a good time to schedule that meeting. "Sure," I said. What else was I going to say? "Uh, no. I'd really rather not discuss the results of my Cologuard test at this point. Perhaps in a couple of weeks? How about after Christmas? That sound good?"
So she scheduled the meeting for 8:15 tomorrow morning which is a bit early for me but let's get this shit over with.
No pun intended.
I have a strong feeling that whatever showed up in the test needs to be identified and verified with a colonoscopy and so I'm pretty sure I'll be getting one of those soon. 

So that was that and I ended up taking an Ativan and I mean an entire Ativan which I never do and it did help and before I went to my lady-parts exam I took another half. This spaced out dosage was not enough to render me unsafe to drive, I assure you. So don't worry about that, please. 
And let's not really worry about these tests results either. God knows I haven't been losing any weight unexpectedly and that reassures me that if something is brewing in there, it's not gotten far along. 
Of course I say this now with a few traces of Ativan in me. But we're just going to take this one step at a time. 

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

Now. Back to today.

I did a little Dr. Googling about positive Cologuard tests and yes, they are testing for cancer and polyps, too, I believe. There are false positives and also, the older you are, the larger chance there is for one of those. So I felt a little better but by the time I got up this morning I was back in the worrying-for-sure stage. Dr. Zorn called a few minutes after eight and early was fine with me. 

He is such a good doctor and a kind person. The first thing he said was that he knew I'd figured that my test was positive if the nurse said he wanted to talk to me and I said yes, of course and he said that the test was positive but it does not mean that I definitely have colon cancer. He gave me all the information about age and false positives and so on and so forth and then he actually sort of apologized because, as he said, he knows how I feel about all things medical, but that he wants me to get a colonoscopy which of course I knew would be the next step. He has two different gastroenterologists in mind to do the procedure and hopefully, if one can't do it, the other will. He assured me there was no rush. Anything within three months or so. 
And at that point, I felt much better. 
Honestly, I don't think I have colon cancer but I could be wrong and of course I'll get the colonoscopy. The drugs they use for those procedures are the best! 

And now that that's all out of the way, I can tell you that we've just had a rather regular day. Well, Glen DID go to a funeral. We sure know how to party here in Lloyd, don't we? And then...

I was the one thousandth, eight hundred and sixty-fifth person to register an early vote in Monticello, Florida. 
Done, done, and DONE! 

And I made Mr. Moon a coconut cream pie which would have been perfect if I hadn't let the meringue and coconut on top get a little too crispy. 

It'll be fine. 

And the rest of the day has just been about being happy and contented and so very grateful that we have each other and that we love each other and that we have this life. I picked greens and some bell peppers from the garden and hung the laundry and brought in the laundry and made that pie and the sheets are clean and martinis will be made and there are roses, too.

And chocolate. He knows me. 

And I know him. And we are forty years in and every day becomes a little more precious. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Title

 Today has had some serious struggles and although I did write a post describing them, I don't think I'm ready to publish it yet. It's fairly personal stuff in a way. And no, it has nothing to do with my lady-parts exam which went fine. 

So for now I'll just say that tomorrow Glen and I will have been married for forty years and that seems impossible. Simply impossible. Normally, we'd be off to Roseland or some cool place to celebrate but there's just so much going on this year that we've promised each other that there will be a trip, just not at this moment. And the ring he gave me for my birthday puts paid to any sort of jewelry he ever needs to give me. And I have everything else in the world I need or even want except more years with him. 

Okay. That's good. It's all the truth and it says plenty. 

All is well. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Tiny Post

This, my friends, is what Jessie and I get when we go out to eat at the Sahara restaurant in Tallahassee. There are many different types of soul food and this is one of my favorites. It pleases and feeds my soul in the best sort of way. You can't even see the perfect little triangle of spanakopita that comes on the plate. I always want so badly to just devour the whole plate but I generally bring a few things home in a box and when I eat those leftovers the next day, the food brings me joy again and I'm glad I saved some. 

There's an annual Greek food festival in Tallahassee at the Greek Orthodox Church and it's coming around this year on Friday and Saturday. I seriously doubt I'll be going. I used to go and take my kids and later I'd go with Lily when she took her children but now the idea of standing in line for food and being surrounded by the many, many people who love the festival (and rightfully so) makes me shiver. 
No thank you. 

So I go to the Sahara for my dolmades fix. 

I really don't have much to talk about today. I feel like I'm running late with my schedule here and actually, I am. After lunch Jessie and I went to Publix and once again, it felt like we were in there for forty-eight hours at least. And then I had to do a quick Costco visit and then I went to the library. When I got home I opened the refrigerator to put groceries away and damn if my jar of chili crisp hadn't tumped over and there was chili oil all spilled in such a way that I had to take the glass panel out and clean that and then the surfaces that it rested on and I felt like, "Really? Really? I need this?" and then I thought about the fact that I am able to go to the store and buy what we need and sometimes even what I just want and we have a very nice, very big refrigerator and also hot and cold running water so I can easily clean up spills and I told my mind to shut the fuck up, clean the chili oil, and be grateful. 
And I was. 

I am okay today. I've only cried a little bit. Tomorrow I have a Gyn appointment and I am dreading that but here's something funny- I dread being weighed and getting my blood pressure checked far more than I worry about putting my legs up in stirrups and the ensuing exam. Crazy, almost by definition, has nothing to do with logic or reality. It just is. 
Crazy. 

Off to go make our supper. We certainly have plenty to eat.

Love...Ms. Moon

This is just a picture I took last night that I like. That is all and nothing more. 

Skipping Like A Dipshit

I know absolutely nothing about this painting. It accompanied a post on Facebook on a Florida memories group. The post was about Palatka which is across the state to the east of here. I sent the picture to Lis and told her it was another of our dream houses. She agreed and asked if we could turn the attic into the sewing room. We've always fancied the idea of living together in our old age with the men around too. Goodness knows we would have many projects that they would be so thrilled to do for us. 

I went for a walk today and stole those beauties from a bush in the yard of the former Lloyd Women's Club. The blooms change color as they mature. I have decided that I am going to start a movement wherein we stop calling this plant a confederate rose and rename it with what it should be called which is "Prom Queen Posy." "Ballerina Beauty" would also work.
What do you think?

Today's been a rough day. Emotionally, I have felt fragile as a crystal wineglass, and then, in an attempt to try and get a few endorphins going I took a mere two-mile walk and now my sciatica is as bad as it ever was and the knee on that same side feels like it's going out and so now I'm in worse shape emotionally and physically than I was before and I keep thinking- this is how my life is now. Things hurt and it hurts to move and it hurts to, well, live. 

And then I feel so very guilty because I have a beautiful life and am actually pretty healthy for an old woman who's spent her life carrying and bearing babies and toting them around and gardening and walking and all that stuff and hell, I've had depression my whole life and anxiety too and shouldn't I know how to deal with those things by now and if I did all the right things like lose weight and meditate and do yoga and participate more in a community it would fix me right up!

Right? Right! Just change your attitude, baby! Change your life and make it better! Go on, you can do it! One step in front of the other! 

And then I cry some more.

Aw, shit.

Here I am again. 

And moving on, I saw that my neighbor's sasanquas are blooming. Bad photos but I honestly can't see a thing when I'm taking pictures in the sun. 

"Sasanqua" actually refers to the type of camellia these flowers are. They are camellia sasanqua, not camellia Japonica as the later-blooming ones are like the pink perfections and all of those magical flowers that will soon be opening and breaking my heart with their beauty all winter long. 
But the sasanquas are pretty too and I love the way their petals fall, creating a carpet of pink beneath them. 

I also noticed on my walk that the tea olives this year really are more fragrant. I could smell them when I went past yards even when I could not see them. And my own have a scent so strong that I can smell them from my back porch, even though the nearest tree is at least a dozen yards away. Scent molecules drenched in perfume. 

When I went to the post office, I checked on My Gypsy Soul Boutique. 

Rather unbelievably and despite my deep misgivings about Lloyd being a place to open a hippie stuff shop*, it is still open. 
But wait. This sign is in the window.

It would appear that the store is only open when the farmer's market is set up on Saturdays. And the woman who owns the boutique is the one who has organized the farmer's market so I guess, in some ways, things are working out for her? Maybe? I always forget it's there on Saturdays but the venders keep coming back so I guess it's doing okay. I wonder how the Tarot and palm readings are coming along.

I have no doubt that all of you have been on the edges of your seat, wondering what had become of that particular Lloyd feature. 

I also know that all of us here, or at least most of us, feel as if we are waiting on a biopsy report as the days count down to the election. Fourteen days, right now. Two weeks. Things have gotten progressively weirder as Trump's exhaustion, age, and genetic propensity towards dementia are catching up with him. Too many examples to even start listing. I will say that yesterday when I ordered Mr. Moon's favorite lunching-out beverage at the restaurant where we met May and Michael because he had dropped me off to go park the car, I almost could not get my words out. 
The beverage? An Arnold Palmer. Which is half sweet tea and half lemonade. Supposedly this was the pro golfers's favorite drink. And why was it so hard for me to utter these words to the server? I'm sure you know but if you don't, just google "Trump, Arnold Palmer," and you'll get it. 
The perverse, probably-in-early-dementia-person that I am almost asked if they had really big Arnold Palmers but I stopped myself. 

And yet, this quote by Tim Walz delighted me.

“Look, Elon’s on that stage, jumpin’ around, skipping like a dipshit,” Walz said, prompting cheers.

Say it, Tim! Speak the truth and fear no man! Or woman! 

What crazy times we live in. There is the possibility that my depression and anxiety are the sanest reactions to all of it there are. 

I still hate them. 

Love...Ms. Moon

*And we all know that I am and have always been a hippie so that was not a derogatory description.

A Celebration Of Life For My Very Much Alive Darling Girl

Thirty years ago today was definitely the worst day of my life. I never mark the anniversary though. I believe that is because even thinking about the day slams me right back to the day and I am overwhelmed, drowning in the emotions I had, the fear I felt.
The event that happened on that day, which I do not want to remember but absolutely will never forget, is that May got hit by a car on her way to school. 

Look. I'm not going to go into details about injuries because there just is no need but they were extensive and the fact that she is here today, that she can, as she said to me, walk and dance all these years later is some sort of miracle. 

It was every parents' nightmare, from the phone call at seven something in the morning to getting to the hospital where she was taken, not knowing a damn thing about what had happened except that she'd been in an accident and the police called me to tell me. They called Glen too, and although he was at least four miles away and I was about four blocks away from the hospital, he beat me there. He opened the door of the ambulance. 

All right. That's all I want to say about it right now. Or maybe ever again. My baby May, sixteen years old, had been grievously injured. That is enough to know. 

So last night when she texted me and asked if Daddy and I would like to meet her and Michael for lunch as it was the thirtieth anniversary of her accident and she wanted a little celebration of life, of course I said I absolutely would. And Glen did too. He'd gotten home just a few hours before but he knew how important this was. 
 
And we did meet them. I put on a very blue dress and even make-up and perfume. Hell. I wore real shoes! And the swankiest bracelet I own. Mr. Moon dressed in a long sleeved button up shirt and a pair of nice Levi's and off we went to downtown Tallahassee which neither of us has visited in many years. And there were Michael and my darling, dancing May who was so strong and who is so strong and so beautiful and why the heck didn't I take a picture of her and Michael? I just didn't even think about it. I was too busy taking them in. 
We hugged and hugged and hugged. And we talked for two hours while we ate delicious lunches under the oak trees and sky. 

I was so glad to be there. So honored that May asked us to join them. I told her that if all those years ago on this date, I could have seen the tiniest glimpse of what we'd be doing today, it would have relieved me so much. We talked about the accident a little. Mostly the funny things that happened because funny things did happen and we clung to them as proof that my girl was going to live, and how much we loved her surgeon who put her leg back together. There were some tears but it was mostly joy that here we were. Strong and alive and loving each other so much. 

"Life." said Kurt Vonnegut, "There is just no stopping it." 

And here's a tiny bit of life from Lloyd today.

This little anole was almost right in the center of one of my sea grape leaves. Can you imagine being so tiny that you don't even bend a sea-grape leaf? Also- if I had those eyes, I'd never have to put on eye shadow again. 

The tea olive blooms are more fragrant right now than any other year I can remember. 

I picked two tiny branches of them to bring into the kitchen and put in a vase with two late roses. 

Life, no matter what, does indeed hold sweetness even if it is so small that we hardly see it. Recognizing it and holding it close is important, I think. 

May and I held each other close today and the sweetness was immense. I am beyond grateful that we can and that we did. 

Happy day of still dancing, May. Your mama loves you. But you know that. 

Love...Ms. Moon

No Trad Wives In This House

Here's the only picture I've taken all day long. It's a loaf of sourdough that I baked this morning. Jessie recently went to a nutritionist who told her that she could probably tolerate sourdough bread very well, unlike regular bread. So Jessie asked me if I still had starter and I did and I do so I gave it a few feedings and yesterday I started a loaf to see if it was viable and I think I can safely say that it is. So I will pass some starter off to her. 

Mr. Moon has arrived safely at Tallahassee International Airport. What a joke that name is. I doubt a plane has ever flown to another country from that airport. Hell, you have to go to Atlanta to get anywhere from here. Which is where Mr. Moon's last flight was from today.

So he should be here in less than an hour. For his return I've got spaghetti sauce simmering made with venison. That will go nicely with the sourdough. 

I had an appointment with the massage therapist today. Hank and Rachel were just leaving when I got there. They, too, had seen her. This woman does not do full-body massage. She works on specific areas that you may be having problems with. In my case today- this sciatica thing. And so instead of it being a dreamy, delicious hour of new age music and peaceful relaxation, it's sort of painful at times. It was a little painful for me today. She got right into that glute and found the muscles that are so tightly holding the nerve and she worked on them. She was careful not to inflame it more than it already was and honestly, after forty-five minutes I am feeling no pain at all in that area although I am aware that it might hurt tomorrow but that's to be expected. This woman is such a good person. On her website she says, "You are safe on my table." And that covers a lot of ground and she means it. Also, she does not take tips. What she charges is what you pay and if she feels like you only need forty-five minutes of work, she charges you for forty-five minutes of work. 
Everyone should be so ethical. 

I am listening to a murder of crows who are right across the railroad tracks and they sound agitated about something. I wonder what they're talking about. I wonder how it will feel to my husband to come home to this place in Lloyd where his wife, his chair, and his bed are. I imagine he's going to miss the camaraderie of his buddies, the beautiful skies he's been seeing, the feeling of being away and on an adventure. It's always feels like a small disturbance in the ether when he gets home, and there is always a short period of adjustment for both of us. But adjust we always do. 

I think Maurice feels that something is about to happen. She seems on high alert although that could be because she just chased a rather pretty black and white cat off the property. I've never seen this one before. It looked too well-fed and well-groomed to be a feral but whatever it is, Maurice will not have it. She will never allow another cat in this house again as far as I can see. 

I should go put on lipstick and my sexiest apron and make a martini to have in hand for when my husband comes through the door, right? 

Uh. No. I mean, I'll gladly make the martini and I did put on some tinted Chapstick today so I think I'm good. Who needs an apron when you're wearing overalls? They're my prettiest ones. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Laughing And Crying

So. Here's a fun story! 
You see this lovely, sweet kitty cat? 

Such a pretty little tiger. She even came in to sleep with me last night. 
Again, about 3 a.m. whereupon she scratched and scratched the bed and meowed to let me know she was there and finally she settled down, snugged up beside me and I got back to sleep. She was still there when I woke up. 

And when I had attended to my morning routine and gotten dressed, I headed towards the kitchen to get my coffee and there, in the hallway, I spied something that I could not identify. It was long. Slim. But not too slim. For a second, I thought perhaps it was one of the zinnias that I'd cut and put in a vase there on the floor but no, it was not and I realized that what I was looking at was some sort of rodent tail and it was at least six to seven inches long and there were also some other tender vittles lying beside it and when I say "tender vittles" I mean innards of the creature who had had its tail removed. 
Oh, fuck me. 
I really tried to tell myself that it had been a possum because do rats really have tails that long? but then I realized that yes, they certainly can! I just pray with all of my atheistic-ish heart Maurice caught that thing outside and brought it in because if I have things like that living in my house we have to move. 

I found some more guts in the library as well as some furry part that had been on the outside of the rodent. I cleaned all that up and I survived because I am a crazy strong bitch but actually, no, I am not, there was just no one else to clean it up and I certainly was not going to be looking at that mess all day long. 

Life in Lloyd. TOO MUCH NATURE! 

I am now assuming that it is not only cats that Maurice fights with who mess her face up. Hell, she's probably out wrestling bears at night too. I don't know. I just know that every time I hear her scratching on my bed at 3 o'clock in the morning I'll be envisioning her cleaning guts and blood off her claws. 

I worked outside some this afternoon and realized, as I walked past the tea olive that it is blooming again. The fragrance of a tea olive is absolutely one of the most enchanting things I know. Somehow, it's also one of the most feminine fragrances I know. It smells of fancy face powder like Edith Piaf might have worn, and apricots and peaches and something I cannot identify. It's at once ethereal and pungent. But sweetly so. 

Mr. Moon will be home tomorrow night. I assume he's coming home. I know he's had the very best time with his guys. I can't even imagine. Actually, I try not to imagine. I am quite sure that a lot of meat cooked over a fire as well as brown liquor, are involved. Also hunting dogs and the...you know- hunting. 
Sigh. 
As I always say, I do not understand in the least why he loves this so much but I absolutely understand that he does and since it's part of who he is, I have to respect that he needs to go on these trips. 
In my own way, of course. 

I played a little more piano today but it made me so sad. I'm just so bad at it. And yet, even in my sadness, I was glad I was doing it. 

Pine cone lilies in the afternoon sun. 

For some reason, the phrase, Laughing and crying, you know it's the same release, from Joni Mitchell's song "People's Parties" is in my head. So. Here. You can listen to it if you want. Don't bother if you don't.

Talk about ethereal...

Love...Ms. Moon