Relationships And How They Sometimes Work

That's the Japanese maple that I planted in our yard when we moved in. The man we bought the house from brought it to the closing and gave it to me which I thought was a lovely gift. It has grown quite a bit in the twenty years that have passed and for once, I seem to have planted something in the right place. It does very well there, by the yard of the old kitchen. I can see it from my back porch where I spend a good many hours of my day. Every fall it does what Japanese maples do which is to appear to catch fire when the sun is shining on its leaves. 

It's been a slow, lazy day. I seem to be making a habit of that. Mr. Moon got up early, early to go duck hunting. That season has begun. He went out for breakfast with a buddy afterwards and I made myself a sort-of Sunday breakfast, including two biscuits that I baked in my tiniest skillet in the air fryer/toaster oven and they may have been some of the best biscuits I ever made. Biscuits are nice in that you can make only two if that's what you want. Just a little self-rising flour, some butter, some buttermilk. Pat your biscuits out, put them in a tiny pan and bake them at a slightly lower temperature in the toaster oven than you would in the regular oven. Not only do they come out fine, they take far less time to cook. 

Then Glen got home and went to work on my car which he has been cleaning and detailing for several days now. There is sort of a story behind this. Ever since we got married, it has been part of our unspoken contract that he deals with all of the car issues from getting the oil changed to getting repairs done if necessary, to making sure my car looks halfway decent. I do get my own gas. Usually. But overall, he is the Car Guy and I am the Car Guy's wife. It's not unknown for me to drive my car through a carwash but I don't do that very often. 
To my mind, it's always been sort of like the fact that there's no question who is going to do the cooking. That is what I do. 
Relationships all have these unspoken agreements, I think. And if someone seemingly is not holding up their end of the unspoken agreement, things can get...uncomfortable. You have to finally speak. Communicate. Etc. All those relationship things. 

So my car had gotten to a bad point. It looked terrible. Even to me, who generally does not give a damn what her car looks like. It was, according to The Car Guy, spotted with mildew. Whatever it was, going through the car wash twice did nothing at all to make it look any better. But I just didn't talk about it and figured that eventually the man would take care of the situation. 
Then Jessie pointed out that I might have roaches in my car. 
The horror! 
Although this is far more common in Florida than you'd think. They just fly in and take up residence if there are crumbs about and yes, I do eat in the car sometimes and yes, I let the kids eat in it too. So no big mystery there. I got some roach traps and informed my husband of the situation. 

And waited.

Finally, I reached my limit and one morning recently I went to him and said, "Why have you let my car get to this point?" and a great, wet tear slid down my face because I had been feeling, if not unloved, then slightly ignored. And it's not like the man hasn't been busy. Oh my god, he's been busy taking care of all sorts of business. 
Still. 
And he heard me and he spent days cleaning and waxing and vacuuming and scrubbing and now my car is absolutely beautiful again. 

And I feel loved. 

What we really need is a carport. We have the GarageMahal but it's about a quarter of a mile from the house. Well, not really, but it's more than a few steps plus you know damn well there is no room in that giant building for our cars. It is filled with ongoing projects and tools and boats and deer-processing equipment and lawn mowers. We have discussed a porte cochere which is a lovely sort of attached carport but we're not sure how we could add one of those with the design of the house. We should explore this option though.

I pulled some more border grass and croscromia out by the front of the house and I am thinking I want to plant muhley grass there. Remember that stuff growing behind the GDDG I took a picture of a few months ago? 

It looks like this. 

It's native, not invasive, and I think it's pretty. And as soft as a baby's curls. I need to make a trip to the plant nursery. 

And that's all I need to talk about this evening. It's time to go cook some fish and some grits. I wanted to cook collards to go with them but I am saving all of those for Thanksgiving. Phew,  y'all! The day is almost upon us. I need to make one more (please god, only one) trip to the grocery store and I need to make my angel biscuit dough and the cranberry sauce. Is that all? Hell if I know. I suppose I could precook the collards and heat those up. It wouldn't hurt them. They're always better the next day anyway. 

Meanwhile, here we are. Another Sunday in north Florida and oh! I forgot to mention that yesterday when we passed by the little plot of land where the Lloyd Farmer's Market sign has been for months, there were a few people set up there, selling things! And there were people there looking around, possibly buying things! I am so excited! I need to check this out. What a great thing for Lloyd this would be. And it will funnel folks to the My Gypsy Soul Boutique which is right there beside the farmer's market. Perhaps there is hope for that woman's dream after all. 

We shall see. She has surely hung on longer than I would have ever predicted. 

Love...Ms. Moon

A Lot Of Pictures And A Little Nostalgia

Some time ago I bought a potted plant because I liked the leaves. I had no idea it bloomed until a few years ago when I put the plant in the ground. That's it there on the right, trying to escape the Sago palm. It went a little crazy this year, blooming nicely. 

It's a little Sueussian, isn't it? I have since found out that it is called "Leopard plant," or sometimes "Tractor Seat plant." 
We can see why. 

But I discovered something else this year which is that the bees love those blossoms. There are always bees on them. 

Bees are a little bit scary, viewed straight-on, aren't they? 

It's given me a lot of pleasure to watch them working over those pretty yellow flowers. 

I really did not want to do anything resembling work today. I just did not. So I asked Mr. Moon if he'd like to go to Monticello and get lunch and maybe do a little shopping. He said he would. 
And so we did! I even put on some make-up. I have decided that although there is nothing about my physical presence that I can appreciate even the least bit these days, my eyes are still pretty when I give them a little shimmer and mascara.
You'll have to trust me on that one. 

We went to the Rev which is the restaurant where you can sit outside and watch the traffic go around the county courthouse (or sometimes almost crash into it, as Lis and I did once) while you're eating your lunch. They have decent food and there seems to be a new manager in charge and things were going along a little faster today than they usually are. Mr. Moon got a hamburger and I got a crab cake sandwich and we both got what were probably the best french fries I've ever had in my life. 

So that was fun and there were no crashes but we did some cows being trailered and giant bales of hay being hauled and lots and lots and lots of trucks. 

I asked Mr. Moon if he needed to go the Man Store, which is what I call the place across the street from the Rev where they sell all things manly from guns to ammo to bows and arrows to fishing supplies to manly camo-wear to live bait, and deer stands and so on and so forth. He said he did not need to go the Man Store so I suggested we go to Wag the Dog (big surprise) which is the thrift store where I have found many treasures. It's called Wag the Dog because all proceeds go towards the Jefferson County Humane Society. 
I found no treasures today. I didn't really reach level 10 on my looking skills, though. It was just all a little much. Things are CRAMMED into that place and space and there were a lot of people there. I did find this. 

I was not feeling particularly blue so I did not buy it but I wouldn't have anyway. All that stuff is plastic. But lovely blue plastic, right? 

Party in a box! 

So then we went to the real antique store and looked around. This is the place where I got Dorothy Anne. We saw a lot of cool stuff but nothing that we had to have. I decided to go on up to the second floor (which is where I found Dorothy) and Mr. Moon went outside and sat on a bench. I did find this lovely old...object. 

Wheeled kitchen cart? Whatever. I thought I might buy it to use in place of the horrible piece of shit thing I have in the kitchen now where I keep my mixer and random baskets and bowls. I got Mr. Moon to come up and look at it and he was willing for us to buy it but he did point out that when I turned on the Kitchen Aid, that thing would probably roll itself all over the kitchen, vibrating all the way. 
He was right. 
Still. I like it. 

Here are some other things I did not buy. 

There was a time in my life when there would have been no way I would have left that little piece of chalkware glory behind. Those days are over. 

This guy was just way too judgmental. 

Not a soul in this world is going to buy him unless he changes his attitude. I feel sorry for that little shepherdess or whatever she is, standing below him. 

These are buccaneer marionettes (at least that's what the tag said) and again, ten years ago I might have bought them and hung them somewhere in my house. Their clothes alone are gorgeous. 

But no. 
Just no. 

They have been sitting right there, about three feet away from where Dorothy Anne was lying, ever since I've been going to this antique store. 

They've opened up two more rooms in the upstairs and I loved seeing that space. 

Look at those arches! A man who's a vender there and I had a conversation about those. We believe that the upstairs part of the building was a living space while the downstairs was the family business back when the place was built. We conjectured that possibly the arches wall separated a dining room from a parlor but who knows? They are lovely. 

Here. 

You see that face? It's carved from wood. It's a Robert Raikes bear, a circus ringmaster bear to be exact. 
No, no, no, no, no. A thousand times no. There were also two of Mr. Raikes' rabbits and there were rather horrifying as well. 
Why would someone do that? 

While I was in Monticello, I bought a local paper and this absolutely cracked me up. 

That's the header. "If you could go back in time, when would you visit first?" 

Okay. Fine. But it was the answer of the first guy that really made me laugh. 

Don't you think that Mr. Kasdorf would secretly rather go see the fight at the O.K. Corall than to go see Christ? 

We do not need to discuss the obvious need for a proof reader at that newspaper. 

So that was our day in Monticello which appears to be becoming a shopping mecca. There were all sorts of people visiting, eating lunch, walking along the charming little streets with bags of things they'd bought. So different than the Monticello I remember from the mid '70's when yes, Saturday was a big day in town but it was the farmers and ranchers coming in to do their shopping at the Piggly Wiggly and the hardware store that sold just about everything and the shoe store that was dark and filled with tables and tables and shelves of shoes that the proprietor would lead you down to find what you were looking for. I used to get the socks I made monkey dolls out of there. Folks would take their kids for an ice cream at the pharmacy that had little bistro tables. Now there's an honest to goodness coffee shop that sells all the frappes and lattes and mochas and chais and there's a bakery and cafe that also sells bee-keeping supplies and a lot of different cutesy shops that can knock you out with their scented candles and potpourri. 
But there's still a produce stand and the Man Store and the barber shop that closes on Saturday at noon and about fifty churches and the old Opera House where I spent so many wonderful, magical hours and the feed store that I talked about a few months ago and the Jefferson Community News where people are interviewed about there they would go if they could travel back in time. 

Things are changing but that's just what happens and that's fine. 

All is well here at the Moon's tonight. The Weatherfords made a last minute decision to go up to North Carolina yesterday and that's where they are. The pictures I've gotten are so great. The cousins have fit right back into their relationships and even Sophie has a new dog cousin whom she loves playing with all over the mountain. 

It's just a quick trip for Vergil to get a truck he's bought. They'll be back early next week. 

Love...Ms. Moon

 

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How's That Garden Growing?

All right. Who knows what that is? Did your mama do this with her leftover pie crust? You take all the scraps and roll them out together and put butter, cinnamon, and sugar on it and bake it, and as dear Rebecca and I determined today, that is the best part of a pie. Glen loves it so much and that bit of pastry goodness is waiting for him to eat it. He's just gotten back from sighting his rifle. 
Debby will know what I mean by that. 

So yes, I got the pies baked today. At least the two I'm doing. The thawed pastry rolled out beautifully and I made these two lovelies, guaranteed to trigger a sugar rush that'll last for hours at which time you'll crash like the dreams of a million kids who are certain they'll grow up to be rock stars. Or pro football players. Or the next Steven King. 
Or something. 

There we have our chocolate pecan pie on the left and our regular, traditional pecan pie on the right. They are now snuggly wrapped in aluminum foil and in the freezer in the garage. 
I'm at the point in my life where even looking at those pies makes me feel a little gastrically unsettled. I doubt I've had an entire piece of pecan pie in a decade but they are a cherished and expected part of the Thanksgiving dinner. Either that, or everyone is lying to me. 

I did some garden weeding this afternoon. Not much, but a little. The garden really is looking pretty but I can tell that it is suffering from lack of enough sunlight. The rain we just had did it good though.

Arugula.

Mustard greens.

Collards which were started from seedlings, not seeds.

Mixed kale on the left, mesclun on the right. 

And carrots. 

We have plenty for salads now and we will be having one tonight. I just feel like this is the greatest luxury in the world. These fall and winter salads from the garden taste like no other salads in the world unless they too are made from greens just picked hours or even minutes before. I almost hate to add anything else to the salads. Tomatoes are, of course, not in season and the ones in the store are far from perfect. Hot house cucumbers are okay but still not quite deserving of being sliced for nestling amongst those greens whose life force is at its peak. 

Okay. Okay. Enough of that. 

Anyway, all is well for now and yes, there are clean sheets on the bed and our glasses are in the freezer for martinis. 
"Olives or green beans?" I ask my husband before he begins the process of making them. I prefer pickled green beans in my martinis and he generally does too but sometimes he likes a couple of good olives. He shakes the martinis up and pours them out and we toast and always say, "Happy Birthday!" which is what our friend Red-Headed Rick always said at Hippie Hour back in the eighties when all the old hippies got together at a beer garden on Friday nights, and we also say, "I love you," and we kiss and sip and it's a pretty fine thing. 

Happy Friday, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Turkey Talk

Well, it has happened. The first pink perfection of the year has bloomed. I found it this morning when I went out to see if I could find some nice sasanquas to cut to take to Liz Sparks but the rain had smushed almost all of them. They are so fragile. Like flowers made of tissue paper. The camellia japonicas have slightly thicker, almost waxy leaves although they, too, are fragile. I love the way that one still has rain drops on it. It's as if its thirst had been sated completely and then some. 

I was going to take Liz some flowers because I was taking her some food. Did I mention that she had a hip replacement on Tuesday morning? Well, she did. I think she must have worn that hip out, hiking and biking and kayaking and running full tilt her entire life, leaping from one adventure to the next. She'd been in terrible pain for a while now and was so ready to get this surgery. 
Did you know that you can get a hip replacement early in the morning and be home by 1:00 p.m.? Well, you can. And she did. Because Liz has a thousand friends who love and adore her, she has lots of help and one of her friends made up a rota for people to bring her food on scheduled days. I was not on the list but of course I was going to bring her food. When I made that big pot of beef and vegetable soup at the beginning of the week, I froze some so that she could keep it in the freezer until she wanted it or let it thaw for eating now. I was going to make her some bread but I knew I was going by Costco before I went to her house and I swear to you- Costco makes a rosemary/parmesan bread that tastes better than anything I can make. So I got her a loaf of that.

When I got to her house, she was sitting on her porch, and before too long, two other friends had stopped by and we all sat and chatted. It was nice. It was great to see that Liz is up and walking with the aid of a walker and also good to hear that she hasn't been in much pain at all. They did a nerve block which has really helped. So hurray for that! She's already getting PT and I'm sure she'll be back on the rivers and trails before too long. Her son and her granddaughters are coming for the weekend and that will be a treat.

When I went to Costco, I bought our turkey. It's a twenty-pound fresh one, supposedly meaning that it hasn't been frozen but it appeared to be frozen to me. It is now in the refrigerator in the garage and hopefully, by Thanksgiving, it will be completely thawed but I have my doubts. Costco was very busy but not packed. That will come next week. Hopefully, I won't have to go back. I got butter and pecans and will make and freeze my pies tomorrow, I think. 
Here's something that made me laugh so hard- I was talking to Lily on the phone and I told her that I'd gotten a turkey. I said that I'd picked up a twenty-three year old turkey, meaning of course that I'd picked up a twenty-three pound turkey but after I realized what I'd said, I cackled like the old crone I am. And I didn't get the twenty-three pound turkey because damn- the thing was almost more than I could pick up as it was and I thought about what it would weigh stuffed with stuffing and in a roasting pan and by the way- do I even have a roasting pan that big? I think I do. But anyway, the twenty pound one seemed much more doable than the one that was three pounds more. 
Still, I may require help for this thing when it comes to roasting it.
A twenty-three year old would come in handy for that. 

And so it goes. I've had the blues a bit, just the regular kind, with a pinch of anxiety to go with them. It took a lot for me to enter Costco with all the shiny stuff and shopping people but I did really well when it came to sticking to the list and not being suckered into buying a flat of crackers and a vat of spinach and artichoke dip to go with them. And I got to see Brenda and also the guy who told me about how he loved to hang out at the Wacissa. He said, "Don't I know you?" and I said, "We talked about the Wacissa once," and he said, "Oh, yeah!" and we discussed how much we love the Wacissa and he told me that he always gets on people who trash the place and how much he hates Nestle because at one point they were trying to use the water there to bottle and I said, "Fuck Nestle," and he said, "Yeah!" 

But everything is okay and any day I get to see Liz is made better just by being in her presence even if she's just had a total hip replacement, and the camellias are all about to bust out of their buds, and Candie was here today and the house is lovely and clean, and I have our turkey and a garden cart to haul it from the garage to the kitchen in, and I am rich, rich, rich in love and luck and I made myself laugh at myself today and that's always a good thing, don't you think? 

I do. 

See you tomorrow.

Love...Ms. Moon

Day Of Introspection And A Brief Ride On The Magical Mystery Tour

Something about these chilly, drizzly days makes me want to bring Dorothy Anne, Emily, and Rosa out from their bed under my vanity to enjoy each other's company on our bed. It gives me a cozy feeling to see them there. After I'd tucked them all up this morning, I came back into my room later to find Jack laying beside them. Perhaps he found them cozy too, and I appreciated him keeping a sleepy eye on them. Or maybe they were keeping watch over him. Whichever, the dollies were my proxies, snuggled up in bed where I wished I was, reading Ann Patchett's new book which I have been reading for the past few nights. The book starts out with a recounting of a community production of "Our Town" wherein the book's protagonist played Emily when she was young, and it brought back so many memories for me. I, too, played Emily in a community production of "Our Town" when I was in high school and quite honestly, it was far more of a formative experience than I realized at the time. I have no memory of what compelled me to even audition for the play. I know I was in drama club in school but was that before or after "Our Town"? I don't know. Not only do I not remember what compelled me, I don't remember why I thought I could do the part. It just seemed like what I was supposed to do. A good friend of mine got the part of the Stage Manager and he was fabulous in it. The folks who played my parents were terrific and the George character was played by the boyfriend of one of the most popular senior girls at our school. She was a cheerleader and in all the clubs and I think he was sort of a BMOC himself. Football player, basketball player, that sort of thing, but obviously with a streak of the arts in him.  
Anyway, I loved playing Emily. Loved it with all of my heart. Loved the play too. There is so much in it that I believe I have carried with me my entire life. That message that the dead would give anything to go back to their life for one day. Even one day that didn't matter much at all in the grand scheme of things. Not a special day. Just one, regular, boring day from a life. 
I think I did a good job in that part. Everyone said so but you know how that goes. The thing I remember most is that I had a big, athletic Black guy friend (we were the first class in Winter Haven that was segregated, I do believe) who went to see the play and he told me afterwards, "You made me cry." He said it like he couldn't even believe it. 
I have never received a compliment on my acting that came anywhere near close to affecting me the way that did. 

So anyway, the Patchett book has grabbed me from page one. It's set in a cherry orchard where three daughters have come home to hunker down during covid and help their parents get in the crop of cherries as the regular pickers and workers are isolating elsewhere. I am going to take my time with this book and savor every bit of it. 

I called my urologist's office today. I actually called the surgery scheduler but told her that I had a few more questions I wanted to ask the doctor before I committed to a date. She said she'd have him call me and I think she probably will. But that may take some time. Meanwhile, the stone has been quiet today, not shouty or jittery. I appreciate that. 

I made my pastry for two pies and froze that. I would have gone ahead and made the pies but I need more pecans and will go to Costco tomorrow to get them. I will make a regular pecan pie and a chocolate pecan pie, as is my custom, using Granny Matthews' recipes. For any of you who have not met Granny Matthews in these pages, just do a little search up there in the tiny window at the top left of the page. I hope with all of my heart that when I am long gone, there will still be someone in my family who makes these pies for Thanksgiving. Nothing could make me happier. I see no reason why this should not happen. There are no better pecan pie recipes on this earth. 

Speaking of things that make me happy- Billy texted me today to tell me that Waylon is really into the Beatles right now. Waylon is Billy and Shayla's son and he is autistic. So when he gets into something, he gets INTO it. Billy said that perhaps Waylon and I could talk about the Beatles because he knows I love them too. I said yes, of course! and sent me Waylon's number to text because he doesn't really like to talk on the phone which is great because neither do I. So we texted back and forth a little bit and his favorite songs are "Yellow Submarine", "Blackbird", and "Help"! His favorite Beatles are John and Paul. 
Wow! I have literally known Waylon since he was about ten minutes old and this is the first he's really communicated with me so I am just thrilled. I ordered him a Beatle's T-shirt and I can't wait for him to get it. 
When I think about all of the pleasure that the Beatles brought to this world and how they still are bringing pleasure and joy to this world, it makes me teary-eyed. And now they have given me something I can discuss with Waylon and in our love of the Beatles, we are equals. 

Something about this seems magical. Not "almost" magical. Simply magical. But haven't the Beatles always been magical? 
I think so. I know they created magic. And they are still very much a part of our world. As Hank says, if a Beatles' song starts playing anywhere, everyone in the room will be singing along before it's over. They are here, there, and everywhere. 
You know I love my Rolling Stones but the Beatles are the other half of my heart when it comes to the music that have made me happy for almost as far back as I can remember. 

One more thing before I go. Many of you here know Ellen from Stuff From Ellen's Head.  She has been a part of my life for many years now, a part of this community whom I cherish. We have much in common and I have a deep respect for her, her art, her work ethic, her politics, her outlook. And today she wrote about a devastating loss she has suffered. If you haven't read her post, you can go to the link above and do so. Send her some love. She needs it. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Organization! That's What I Need In My Life!

 

Oh, but it's been a gloomy, drizzly day here in Lloyd. I am happy that we're getting some rain but is coming down like a leaky faucet- drip, drip, drip. It started last night so perhaps by the time this front has passed in a day or two we will have gotten a decent amount of rain or at least that's my hope. It's been chilly too, the humidity around 82% so it feels even cooler than it is. It's a wet cold that seeps through even cashmere and skin and right down to the bone. 

My spirits have been right there with it all, the gloom, the chill, the heavy, damp feeling of it. First thing that happened when I got out of bed this morning was that my calf cramped up into a hard knot of pain. What in god's name was that about? The damn thing's still sore. 
And the stone has been dancing about again. Yesterday I got little stabbing pains all day, short and fast and completely different than the pain I'm so used to. Today's version was the regular kind- the dull ache. So, I guess I'm going to call the doctor's office tomorrow and see if I can schedule that lithotripsy. I'm as tired of worrying about the fucker as I am of the dis-ease of it and I'm sure you and everyone else in my sphere of contact is tired of hearing about it. 

So. What did I do on a rainy, chilly day? 
Well, first I made up some sourdough dough and then I made the cranberry relish. 

Done and dusted on that one! But putting it into the refrigerator I realized (and not for the first time) that I really, really needed to sort out all the stuff in there and do a good cleaning. 

It wasn't the worst I've ever let a refrigerator get but it was bad enough and I knew that I had so many opened jars of different pickled things and canned things and all other kinds of things so...

I got to work. 
I went shelf-by-shelf, which I guess is how you're supposed to do it, and I took out all of the shelves and bins that are removable and washed and dried them and put them back in and then I got to work combining dill pickles with dill pickles and pickled green beans with pickled green beans and throwing out the contents of jars that were really just not worth risking salmonella to eat. I was astounded at the number of bottles and jars of barbecue and hot wing sauce we have. Way, way too many. And every time Mr. Moon buys wings to eat with friends when they watch a game at our house, he also buys vegetables to cut up, and a new jar of blue cheese dressing to dip them in. So, we have three of those. I love blue cheese dressing but mostly I make my own salad dressing with olive oil, balsamic, garlic, and salt and pepper. Maybe a little mustard. I could eat blue cheese dressing out of the jar with a spoon but as Daddy Bush used to say, "Wouldn't be prudent."

Getting there. 

And finally done. At least there's a little more room for Thanksgiving stuff and as Mr. Moon pointed out, we do have an almost empty refrigerator in the garage but as I pointed out- I have to walk all the way out there to put things in it or take things out. 
I am so lazy. 

The turkey will definitely be going out there when I get it. As I say every year, it takes at least a week to defrost one of those Volkswagen-sized dinosaurs. And even then, it will still be frozen in the middle when I unwrap it to get the giblets out to cook for gravy. I need to get a bigger one this year. If memory serves, we hardly had enough for left-overs last year and the main purpose of Thanksgiving turkey as far as I'm concerned is to have leftovers for sandwiches and as a vessel to bake the dressing in. The bigger the turkey, the more dressing I can stuff in it. 

After I was all finished with the refrigerator, I took a bag of trash to the dump and stopped by the post office to find this holiday cheer. 

That poor little tree I took a picture of last week has been spruced up (haha!) considerably, hasn't it? And it's been moved to another corner. 

And here we have a tasteful, yet merry display of blue balls. 
I will leave that there. 

And now you've seen the intimate insides of my refrigerator. Please feel free to judge me on the contents although aside from the beer, there's not that much to see in a negative light unless you're a vegan and are disdainful of people who eat butter and eggs. Please be aware that the bottom left bin holds many different types of cheese INCLUDING (and I am not proud of this) some slices of 2% American cheese which I love. A toasted cheese sandwich with American cheese and tomatoes is pure comfort food to me and at least it's not heroin. 

The rain continues to drip but the sun has set so the gloom is dispelled by the lights in the house and it all seems cozy rather than drear. 
At least that's what I'm telling myself. 

Love...Ms. Moon

The Thanksgiving Preparation Begins (Oh Hell, Martha! I Have To Finish The Jigsaw Puzzle!)

Obviously, tchotchkes are my life. Just as with all my other stuff, each and every one of them has a memory attached, a story, a reason for it to be in my house, although the reason is sometimes nothing more than, "I like it." 
I obviously use a lot of spices too. Those you see on the right are mostly my baking spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, as well as my curry spices. Turmeric, cumin seed, ground cumin, and yes, curry powder. Among others. 

I also have an old wooden Coca-Cola crate to the left of my stove which holds the spices that I use mainly in stove-top cooking such as my paprikas and sage, chili powders, powdered mustard, bay leaves, and so forth. Of course there are crossovers in the two areas and I also have a cabinet above the stove where I keep large containers of things like garlic powder and oregano, Old Bay, salt and pepper. 
There really is no method to my madness. 
The little pottery bowl in front of the Coke crate is where I keep my garlic. I am using the garlic we grew this year which never got very big but it is good and it is also easy to peel. I keep a bag of it in the pantry. 

We've had no rain here for weeks and weeks. Because it has been cooler, things are not as dire as they would be in July or August. The forecast, though, calls for rain for the next three days. We shall see. It has been a depressing gray here for the past two days which has been quite the change as our skies have been the brilliant blue that only comes around in fall. So I hope we get rain, as my weather widget claims we will, because if water is coming from the sky, the gray will be worth it and I will be grateful, not depressed. 

Today's been a sort of strange day, probably because of the weather which for some reason keeps reminding me of Christmas which is something I'd just rather not be reminded of as if that were even an option with even Publix showing displays of candy canes and all of that holiday crap. I was talking to August the other day about Christmas and of course, he, being a child, is very excited about it. He still believes deeply in Santa. He asked me some question about how Santa does...something? I can't remember. But one of the magical things that he does. Because I am a horrible old cynic I told him that I really didn't know and he was just going to have to figure that out by himself. Anyone who wants a jolly discussion about Old St. Nick ain't gonna get it with me. It also somehow came up that I do not like Christmas and when he asked me why, I was hard put to tell him. I do not want to go into any long, Freudian explanation about my childhood and its effects on any future enjoyment I might have ever gotten from  Christmas so I just said something like, "Well, Christmas wasn't always so great when I was a child." But then I proceeded to tell him about the best Christmas present I'd ever gotten which was a fifty pound (at least), old (even then) typewriter with a little metal typing desk for it to sit on and even a manual to teach myself how to type. 
I did love that typewriter. My mother got it so right that year. 
August asked me if he could have a typewriter like that. "Well you know who you should talk to about that?" I asked him. 
"Uncle Hank!" he said. 
"Yep." 
I don't know how many typewriters Hank has. He was infected by the love of them at an early age and believe it or not, it turns out that there are still many, many of them around. They made 'em to last in the olden days. When Hank was really going through his typewriter collection phase, they seemed to appear everywhere for him to just have. I am not sure, but I think he probably still has quite a few. 

But anyway, back to today. I did get to have lunch with Jessie because I needed to go to town and she was going to be at a place north of town to completely charge her car for free so we met up at a Thai place and it was good. I had planned to go to Costco after that, then the library, and then Publix. Costco was so packed though, that I just couldn't bear it and so I drove to the library which I always, always forget is closed on Mondays. I put my books in the book-return slot, and drove on to Publix which was not crowded and did some shopping there. I'm going to make my Thanksgiving cranberry/apple/pecan/orange relish tomorrow, I believe, and that will be done. The longer it sits, the better it is. I am also going to make my pecan pies this week and freeze them so I won't have to mess with that next week. I think I'll make the angel biscuit dough next Tuesday because it does not hurt it at all to sit in the refrigerator, waiting to be rolled out and cut into biscuits and baked. Ideally I'd like to have everything but the turkey and dressing and the collard greens and iced tea to make on Thanksgiving day but that's one of those dreams which seems completely obtainable until the day itself at which point one just has to laugh and laugh at such silliness. 
I better remind Mr. Moon to buy me my bottle of Thanksgiving rum. Shots will be downed and you can bet on that. 

I'm trying to get all of this figured out in my head although I'm sure I could do this in the dark by now, simply on auto-pilot and with muscle memory. I made my first Thanksgiving dinner at the age of 22 and there have been many, many, MANY more since. I feel most matriarchal at Thanksgiving. This is not a bad way to feel. 

What I am going to try and avoid this year is yielding to the urge to just make more and more food. My kids always bring a lot of food. Too much! And I make too much. It's not all about the food, anyway, is it? It's about the hugs and the gatherings in the kitchen and the kids running around and grown-ups asking, "Has anyone seen Maggie lately?" and the music in the hallway and this year we can play my old records on my new stereo and the men will be putting the tables together outside (hopefully) and oh, gosh- that reminds me. I HAVE to finish my jigsaw puzzle which had been taking up space on the dining room table for at least a month. 

When I got back from Publix today I immediately began making a beef and vegetable soup and sliced and chopped and seasoned and peeled and chopped some more and just as I had it all together and simmering away, my husband gently reminded me that he was going to a basketball game tonight and would not be here at suppertime. 
Oh well. I'll eat it tonight and we'll both eat it tomorrow and there will still be a gallon or so left. 

As I always say, in a former life I was the cook at a lumber jack camp and that's all there is to it. I've had friends who worked as cooks on oil rigs and they've described to me the enormous number of calories they must provide for the workers and I just sigh and think, "My dream job." Endless cookies, pies, and cakes, sauces made with real cream and butter, breads and biscuits, and bacon in everything. 

That will be my next lifetime. 

Not really. I couldn't live on an oil rig for three days. Plus, I hate those things and the horrible damage they do to our oceans. But I bet I'd love to feed the folks who work on them. For a little while, at least. For now I'm quite content to simply make too much for two people and share. 

Love...Ms. Moon