The Crazy Is Deep Within This One

I think it was three years ago that Ellen sent me seeds from her Texas wild hibiscus because every time she posted pictures of them, I couldn't stop talking about how much I loved them. 
The first year I planted them and I don't think a one germinated. I dipped back into the box last year and several of them germinated but I got no blooms but they survived the winter and this year, patience being a virtue and its own reward, I have at least two more blooms coming after this one. 
However. 
I've been noticing that something's been nibbling on the leaves and damn if it hasn't already started on the flower which is probably particularly tasty and if you look carefully at that picture, you will see a green grasshopper wreaking havoc on a petal. 
I flicked him away but a few hours later I found a tinier version of that one also filling its minuscule belly. I flicked it too. I cannot stand guard over the scarlet beauty all day and night, finger and thumb in ready flicking position but I'll be flicking all I see. It's very difficult to see them on the leaves or stalks because their greens could not match more perfectly. 

I cannot begin to tell you how absolutely thrilled I was this morning to see that the bud had opened. The color is as beautiful a red as I can imagine. I grew up with hibiscus growing all around me, various colors and varieties, but I had never seen one like this. 
It makes me swoon. 
Thank you, Ellen. 

We went to Chow Time AGAIN today so that Lily and her kids and Hank could celebrate Mr. Moon, who's birthday is tomorrow as I am sure I've mentioned. 
It was fine although I got miso soup instead of hot and sour soup and it wasn't nearly as pleasing. 

So- the boat. Well, his old, very large boat just left the Garage Mahal, being towed by the guy who bought the boat. Well, he was in a truck. You know. He didn't tow it barehanded. This is all just in time for the new boat to make its appearance and settled into its new home. 

I don't know how to describe the new boat except that I know it is a very stable boat, meant for a lake or river, not so much for a Gulf of Mexico. The stability makes a lot of sense. Mr. Moon's balance is becoming more of a problem, albeit slowly. This is due to a neurological situation so please don't suggest he do yoga or have his inner ear checked. 
Thank you.
He's going to get up Monday morning and start the 12 hour drive. He has, of course, invited me to go with him and the very idea makes me want to hide myself away in a closet. This makes me feel very guilty and also ashamed and saddened that my anxieties have been able to affect me so much. 
The trip to North Carolina is coming up fairly soon and that I will be able to do because we have done it many times and it feels familiar. I am even looking for to it. So I am not completely useless. Only mostly. And perhaps, if I had had time to prepare myself, I would have been more open to the idea of road-tripping to Texas. But I didn't. And besides, I need to make pickles. 

I feel this post has been most inadequate. I would apologize but some days are like this. In my defense, I had a dream this morning that was so horrendous that I am not certain I ever want to sleep again. Far too horrendous to talk about. Not here, not anywhere. And I have not begun to shake it off. 
I doubt I ever will be able to. Not entirely. 

I hope that's not true. 

Love...Ms. Moon 

 

The Absolute Most First World Of All First World Problems

Glen and I met up with Lon and Lis in Monticello today at the Mexican restaurant. As Lis said, it feels like being retired neighbors who can just meet up whenever! And so it does. I think she should consider that house for sale on Main Street in Lloyd because then we really would be. 
I know she's never leaving Gatorbone. Her heart and soul are there and so are Lon's. 

We had good food, good conversation. The men do tend to talk about their stuff while Lis and I talk about our stuff but that's okay. We go back and forth between that and then all four of us together. I guess we have a pattern now, the four of us. It is so good to be with them. 

After lunch we decided to hit up Wag and I found my treasure right away. Six gorgeous wooden salad bowls for fifteen dollars. 
Come to mama, babies.

Are they beautiful or what? 
Here's a funny story. 

Back in 1978, and I am sure of that because it was right after May was born, I bought four salad bowls that I had been lusting after at the hardware store in Monticello. At that time, the hardware store doubled as an almost-everything-else store and you could buy toys, rocking chairs, pots, pans, cooking utensils, canning supplies- you name it, they probably had it. Including some wooden salad bowls. 
And I got four of them. Those salad bowls have been with me all these years, although the number has been pared down to two. The other two cracked and became unusable. But we still use the two that are left along with some other wooden salad bowls that I bought at the Methodist thrift store in Roseland. 

Here's one of the Monticello hardware store bowls. 

As you can see, that one has a crack in it but it still serves us well when we want a snack of peanuts in the shell or something like that. It does exactly what a bowl is meant to do- it holds things. 

And the thing is- that hardware store was in the exact same building that Wag the Dog is now in. The store took up the whole block front, whereas Wag only takes up about half of it, but still, same building, just many years later. 

And of course the hardware store is long gone and the tacky places that opened which caused it to close its doors are also gone, but those are not even a memory. 

I feel very, very pleased with my new bowls. Now-here's the question I am having, buying these new things that are supposedly for the cabin- do I take them to the cabin or do I keep them here and take things I already have to the lake? I mean, that would be fine but you know how emotionally attached I get to my things. I mean, I just spent many words talking about my forty-seven year old salad bowls and I had to restrain myself from talking about how much I love my Roseland thrift store salad bowls. I also love the wooden bowl I make my salads in and it has a crack in it but not so wide that the olive oil escapes. I need another wooden bowl to make my salads in at the lake and I just looked up large bowls by the same company that made the bowls I got today (David & Carey International) and they have one but it costs $79 and I think, eh, matchy-matchy, who cares? 

All right. But as you can see- the things I love are the things I love. I am not an unfaithful lover of either my husband or my salad bowls. Which makes it sound as if the decision should be easy- take the new bowls to the lake! But, but...they're so pretty! 

Oh god. I'm crazy. 

And then, THEN, Glen and I went to the antique store where I freed  Dorothy Anne from the dark, musty shelf where she was hidden away for so long. Glen likes this shop. They sell some car and farm related things he likes to look at. 

When we walked in, Glen noticed, before I did, a very large rug. He's been talking about how we're going to need rugs to bring color to the cabin. "What do you think about this rug?" he asked. 
"I like the one next to it better," I said. 
The one he'd noticed first was mainly blue and probably fairly old and thus valuable. I don't know squat about rugs but I did know that the other rug was a color that made me happy. 

I'm pretty sure it's a Chinese wool rug, not very old, certainly not antique, and it looks to be in excellent shape. 

Long story short, Glen asked the store guy how much they were asking for it and the number he gave us was so much lower than I had thought it would be that I actually said, "In dollars?" 
What did I think? It was going to be rupees? Or yen? 
I honestly thought that the number was going to have another zero on it. 
And so, as we looked around the store we discussed the rug and I finally said, "Look, we're not going to find anything nearly as nice to cover that much area for that price." 
And he agreed that was true and so, we have bought a rug. It's still at the store, but we'll be picking it up soon. 

This does feel like a start for me. It can either go in the bedroom or the living room and I think I'd like it in the bedroom. It can be MY rug. The rug that makes me happy. It is thick, and soft, and the colors please me very much. 

So that is that. 

I can go from here. 

Clean sheets, martinis, a supper of Mexican restaurant left-overs for him and a salad and leftover grouper for me. Too bad we don't have any of the okra and tomatoes from last night but we ate them all. I've always made my okra and tomatoes with canned tomatoes and making them with fresh cherry tomatoes was a revelation. So sweet, so fresh, so damn good. 

While I was picking beans this morning, I almost picked a very green anole by mistake. Luckily he was too fast for that nonsense. But it made me laugh. He did rather resemble a bean. 

We shall not at this moment discuss the boat Mr. Moon has bought which needs to be picked up in Texas. 
The man is living the dream. And hey! It's his birthday on Sunday and I definitely do not need to figure out what to get him this year. 

Sigh. 

Love...Ms. Moon

Back To The Garden

Last week, Ellen from Stuff From Ellen's Head emailed me that she had sent me a few plants. We have traded plants back and forth before. We have very similar growing conditions and so what works well for her in Texas seems to do well here, too. 
Anyway, when Ellen wrote to tell me she'd sent them, she said they should be delivered by Saturday. That would have been last Saturday. Guess what? 
They arrived in Lloyd today. 
Oh well. They look to be in fine health and the dirt Ellen had the roots packed in was still very damp so I think they'll be fine. I've got them all in pots and I am going to watch them very, very carefully. Poor things, living in the dark all that time. 

It was a tiny bit cooler today and for awhile it was overcast so I was finally able to get some garden weeding done. It was still hot but an overcast 90 degrees beats a sun-beating-down-full-strength 97 degrees any day of the week. So I got the area that was truly disturbing me weeded out and mulched and I worked in another area for awhile too, and then mulched that. Such a very good feeling to get that done! 

The zinnias are in full glory. 

I'm not even sure there is a name for a color that intense. 

I like this orange one that on first glance seems very simple and yet, if you look closer, the center of it is so intricate. Never really thought that garnet, gold, and orange would go together so beautifully. 

Plain white. Not to be dismissed. I think it's pretending to be a daisy. Clever little zinnia. 

I got a text from Mr. Moon a few minutes ago asking, "Can I come home now?"
"I guess so," I replied. 
Then I turned to Maurice who was laying beside the MacBook. "Hey Maurice!" and she gave me a little acknowledging mewt.

"Do you think we should let Daddy come home?"
She didn't say a word, just seemed to ponder the question but I have to say her tail was flicking in such a way that I would not have tried to pet her at that moment. 

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

And now he's home and all is well. We're getting another nice little shower and the air has that delicious funky dirt and sharp ozone smell. I'm going to cook us some grouper he caught last month along with some tomatoes and okra from the garden. Another Florida meal for sure. He ate chicken and rice soup for supper the last three nights and he's probably ready for something different although he swears he'd eat it for a week and not get tired of it. He's probably telling me the truth. He is not a fussy eater. 

Working in the garden today, even for a fairly short time, really did give me even more of what I needed. It offers so much more than just food. It gives me a sense of purpose, of accomplishment, along with the sheer pleasure in creating a tidy, verdant space. I find that I have more energy these days and less inflammatory pain as well, which is yet another benefit of taking a GLP-1 for some people. I feel so lucky to be able to take this medication and to have such an easy, side effect-free time of it. I don't want to jinx anything so I'll stop there. 

Love...Ms. Moon

These Are The Good Times

When I was heading out to the garden this morning to pick beans, I carried a few plants I'd dug up and wanted to put on the burn pile and for the first time in awhile, I really looked at this old tractor in the yard. Obviously, it's been there for some time. The plant you see growing all over it and which has the very large pink blossom by the rear tire is glory bower which is one of the horrible invasives in this yard. I have pulled it and pulled it and pulled it to no avail. As I just read, it spreads by both root suckers and seeds and if not controlled can outcompete the native plants which it is well on its way to doing here. 
Sigh. 
The tractor is one that Billy's grandpa left to Glen. Or maybe he left it to Billy and Billy gave it to Glen. I don't remember. But it was Billy's granddaddy's tractor. He has used it some and it gave the grandkids hours of fun, pretending to drive it when they were little. 

So the best thing happened today! Did I mention that Lon and Lis are in Monticello? They're house/cow/dog sitting for Lon's sister and her husband while they are in Greece. They have a lovely home they built years ago and in the last decade, I guess, they have begun raising grass-fed cows. Of course the house and cow pasture are not in the town of Monticello, but out in the country, a few miles from town. So we are close enough to see each other and they will be here for awhile.

Heaven.

Lis came over here today and I'm not sure how she feels about it, but I had one of the most pleasant times I could imagine with her. She helped me can beans and while we faced each other across the kitchen island, snapping the beans to get them ready for the jars, we talked and we talked, and we talked. 

She took this picture of me filling jars. 

I honestly think this was the first time in my life that I've ever had help with canning. I'm so used to doing it myself that it's no problem, but it went so fast with four hands, rather than two. My left hand didn't even go numb! 

We filled 6 quarts and pressure canned them and every one of the lids sealed. I just texted her and told her that two of those quarts had her name on them. 

We discussed everything from carving out time for ourselves after all these years without feeling guilty about the 244 things we absolutely need to do right that minute, and how we've grown less and less concerned with what others think of us, to how good it feels to get rid of stuff, and to husbands, of course. We did not talk about getting rid of those. She and Lon will have been married 46 years in July and Glen and I will have been married for 41 in October. We both agree that our boys are the sweetest boys, the best boys although sometimes they can drive us a little bit crazy. But we do like them a lot. 

My best boy showed up on a drive-by when he came to get the trailer or something. He came in and kissed us both but no hugs would he give because he was so sweaty. And then off he went and I said to Lis, "I have never seen him this happy in my life."
She agreed that he was indeed, a happy man. 

I made us a little lunch of salmon patties and leftover quinoa with cabbage and peppers and onions from last night. I hadn't cooked quinoa in forever and remembering that it is high in protein and in fiber, I thought it would be a good thing. And it was. 

The jars were ready to come out of the canner by the time she was leaving so she did get to see the fruits of our labor. It was a very wonderful visit or at least it was to me, as I said. 

After she left, I finished picking the beans I had not gotten to in the morning. I have been picking so many beans that the forefinger on my right hand is sore in the top joint because that's the finger I squeeze the stems with, along with my thumb, to pluck them from the vines. I switch off and use my left hand too but obviously, not as much. 

I also got enough cucumbers that I really do need to make some pickles, one squash, two okra, a few regular tomatoes and a lot of cherry tomatoes. I told Lis as I was washing beans, I still find great pleasure in growing food. And I do. 

We just got a little rain (of course, because I watered the garden today) which came with a lot of impressive thunder rolling and sky darkening. The temperature on the back porch has dropped seven degrees in the last forty-five minutes. 

I think I will remember today. Well, for as long as the sieve which my mind is becoming can still hold water. It felt so good to be two old friends, come together on such a country woman task, hands busy, hearts happy. There are so many things that a woman can only share with another woman and to be able to do that, and to ask, "Do you feel this way too?" "Is it like this for you now?" is far more important to our mental health and general well-being than almost anything I can think of. 

Lucky. That's how I feel right now. Very, very lucky. 

I do not have multitudes of friends. I have only a very few but they are the best anyone could have.

Love...Ms. Moon

Anne

I think my photo of the sago palm yesterday led at least one reader to think that it was in front of the steps up to my porch but as you can see here, it is not. The steps are just gracefully made of semi-circles. 
Or at least I think they are graceful.

Okay. The woman whose death I was informed of yesterday. 

Her name was Anne-Helene Dreyer. She was from Norway. I met her in 1987 in Cozumel. I wrote that story HERE. 
I have written about her many times so if you want more, just go to the search box at the top left on the page and type in "Anne-Helene." 

I still cannot believe she's gone. She was absolutely one of the most vital, strong, beautiful, and joyful women I've ever known. And although she was so far away, in Norway, another country, another world, and I never visited her or got to meet her daughters, I am certain that she lived the rest of her life as bravely and as lovingly and as beautifully as anyone on earth ever did. And there has never been a moment since the last time we saw each other that she has not been in my heart. Her life and mine were braided together too strongly for her not to be. 

As May said, when she read the text I sent to the family about her being gone, "I don't have words. We were so blessed. She came into our life, arms and heart wide open, and made our lives infinitely richer. What a deep loss. I love you all so much."

As usual, May is the one who can express so beautifully what all of us feel. What we all know is the truth. 

And now, finally, I am weeping. I have so many images of Anne in my head. An inordinate number of them, really. But that's because her presence in my life was so unique to who she was and what she meant to me and our family, that I unconsciously collected those images of our time together knowing somehow, I suppose, that this was a woman whose time spent with us was something so precious and rare that I would never experience anything like it again. 

And I haven't. Although it's been many, many years since I've seen her, I feel as if she might still be right here, ready to make her Norwegian fish dish, to play reggae loudly on the boom box on the back porch, to kiss me on the lips every night when we went to bed, saying, "Good night, Mary."

Good night, Anne-Helene. Thank you so much for everything. I hope you knew how much you were loved by me and my family here in North Florida, and how you unknowingly but surely taught us so much. I honestly don't know that I could have made it without you. And if there is an afterlife, I hope for you that it is Jamaica, which was your favorite place on earth, and that you are dancing, dancing, dancing, to the music and the waves and the the rustling of the palm trees on the clean white sand and the clear blue waters of the Caribbean stretch out before you endlessly, whispering you home. 

All My Loving...Mary

I Think I Need To Learn How To Meditate

Remember that sago palm I trimmed to the bone a few weeks ago? 
Well, that's what it looks like today. I told you it wouldn't die. 

It's been a pretty weird ass day here in Lloyd. The strangest part of it has been the death of a pet (not Maurice) and a phone call I got from my brother, White, who lives out in Bellingham, who sorrowfully told me about the death of a woman who played a very big role in both his, mine, and my family's lives. I have not yet begin to process this and I don't feel as if I can write about it now. I think if I write about it, I'll truly have to accept the reality and I'm not ready for that. I don't think I've ever been in as profound denial about anyone's death as I am right now.

The pet who died was Jessie's cat, Celo, who has lived a scrappy life of his own choosing, a cat who has regularly come and gone and who had another house he sometimes hung out in. He had a ruptured abscess and the house sitter took him to the vet today where it was decided (Jessie was on speaker phone) that it was best to let him go. He had several serious medical problems as comorbidities and was fourteen years old which is fairly up there for an indoor-outdoor cat who lived life on his own terms. 
But. Sadness, still, and Jessie was so sorry not to be there with him when he took his last breaths. But the house sitter, a neighbor, was someone Celo knew and trusted and that is good.

Mr. Moon and Gibson are up at the lake house. I will be interested in seeing what Gibson thinks about this experience. I believe his first task set by Boppy was to clean cabinets and drawers and line them with shelf paper. 

Yes. I should be doing this myself. 
I did pick out the shelf paper so there is that. 

I had several goals for myself today. One was to get some of the garden weeded. Out I went in gardening overalls with a strong sense of purpose, and within about twenty-five minutes of working in the ninety-something degree heat in the direct sun, I decided that weeds in the garden were preferable to death by heatstroke and I put up my trowel and came back inside. 

Another goal I had was to truly sweep Mr. Moon's and my bedroom. Yes, I should have vacuumed but I hate to vacuum and I'm fairly sure the vacuum cleaner is up in Georgia. I did my best with my broom and managed to collect an impressive amount of dust. 

And the third major goal? Do a deep sweep and mopping of the kitchen. Didn't I just do that? I knew it was time though. You know when you spill something in the kitchen and you grab a damp rag or a paper towel to wipe it up and the paper towel or rag is completely black when you've wiped the spill? 
Please tell my you've experienced this. Or not. I'm getting too old to shame for things like dirty floors. 

But I was shaming myself which is a completely different matter and so I took all the moveable objects out of the kitchen and the pantry and the bathroom that adjoins them and swept twice and mopped twice and when it all dried, I put everything back and so now the scent (aroma?) of Fabuloso and white vinegar fills the air and for at least this moment, although I would not eat directly off the floor, I would let a baby crawl on it. 

While all that was drying, I watered the porch plants and the plants in the back yard in pots. We haven't had that glorious everyday rain for some days and with this heat, things are looking beat down and tired. 
Except for the sagos. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

My brother and I talked briefly about what's going on in the world right now. We are both rabid yellow dog Democrats and we both agreed that we are having to step back a little. He's a news junkie whereas I am not but he's limiting himself as to what he's taking in. I'm taking in about the same amount of news I usually do (none of which comes from TV) but I am trying to stay sane by building a sort of wall between myself and it all. It's not a dense, impossible to see through wall, but it is a method of distancing myself a little bit. 
I still find myself enraged. 

As if the whole war in Iran thing wasn't bad enough, here's something going on in Florida.

That's obviously a screen shot and not the entire article but you get the gist. It's from the New York Times. 

There is absolutely nothing about this idea which makes any sense at all. It is cruel, it is ridiculous, and it is a threat to one of our country's most vulnerable and threatened environments. They're going to house these people in tents? They won't need much security because of the alligators and pythons? What's going to protect the security they do have to hire from mosquitoes and biting flies and the insane heat? What are they going to do when a hurricane rips through? Are they going to evacuate all the tent-housed immigrants to safe shelters? And what's this shit about Florida requesting reimbursement from FEMA? Last I heard, the government was trying to shut down FEMA entirely. 

Okay, Mary. Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Go fold some laundry. Go heat up some leftovers.
GO LOOK UP!

Yes.

Can you see Hawk? 

Breathe. 
Do it again. 
There. 

Love...Ms. Moon

How It's Going

 I realized when I sat down to write this, I had not taken one picture today and so I just stepped outside of the porch and took this photo of the wisteria arbor and the phlox behind it, not even realizing that Maurice was in the frame until she meowed at me. 

That's her "Do you realize it's after four and I have not gotten my Temptations?" look. 

It's been a decent Sunday and on the whole, I guess I've felt better today. I didn't especially wake up in a good mood but as the day has progressed, it's gotten better. I made our Sunday brunch but it has definitely changed since Zepbound has entered my life. For some reason, I'm not real excited about eating eggs. In fact, the idea is a bit icky. I've also become a little paranoid about eggs being not very fresh. This is not like me. But this morning before I cooked any eggs, I did the float test on a few of the ones I had in the refrigerator and although most of them passed technically, the results didn't please me. Anyone who has kept chickens is probably aware of the float test because sometimes hens don't lay in the laying boxes but rather in random places they feel more comfortable in or for some other mysterious reasons and it's a good thing to be able to tell if they are still fresh enough to eat or not, thus the float test. This involves filling a bowl of water and setting your eggs in it to see if they float. If they do, throw them away. They should just settle right there on the bottom. Ideally. However, if they are somewhere between really fresh and not-so fresh, the small, pointier end of the egg will magically float above the rest of the egg so that it appears to be standing on its butt. These are probably safe to eat but I didn't feel like testing that theory out this morning and threw some of those away. 
And in fact, I decided I didn't want an egg anyway. 
So I made biscuits and sausage and sliced tomatoes and cooked Mr. Moon some eggs and I ate a biscuit and tomatoes and a piece of sausage which was a small patty and delicious but my stomach has been telling me all day that it wasn't very pleased about that decision. The biscuit may not have helped. Who knows?

I am still learning. 

Here are a few of the changes in my life since I started taking this medication about five weeks ago: 
Except for a very small piece of the prune cake I made May for her birthday, I have not eaten one dessert. I have not had so much as one dark chocolate chip. I have not eaten ice cream or cookies or really, sweets of any kind. Except for fruit. 
I have eaten butter on exactly one slice of bread. I have not used butter on potatoes or rice and I have not used even half a stick of it in my cooking since I started. I do use olive oil. Mostly in salad dressings. 

I have not had one in-between meals snack except for my late afternoon cottage cheese and fruit, except for a very few pistachios one day and a very, very few roasted peanuts another. 

And of course the serving sizes of what I eat are generally dramatically smaller. 
Now. Here's the thing- none of this has been difficult in the least. I do not feel as if I am denying myself anything. I feel quite happy with vegetables and grains and tofu and beans and some meat. We eat some sort of seafood at least two times a week. 

I do not go hungry. If I was hungry, I would eat something. 
And every bit of this is because of the Zepbound. I know this without a doubt. I do think I am making good choices when it comes to my diet but it is so easy. 

This is a remarkable drug. At least in my opinion and experience so far. I don't think it's magic although, I can't help but feel that it has magically allowed me to be someone not ruled by food. I do think about food and I always will, but now when I think of food, it's mostly about what I can make that will be nutritionally dense and that I would really enjoy. 

But I cannot take credit for the changes I am making. And if I had to stop taking Zepbound, I'd be right back where I started and I know that. 
I do not want to go there. With all my heart I do not. 

I think that some people who are on these medications eat pretty much exactly what they've always eaten although far less of it. And this must work too because it seems like almost every one  on them does lose weight. And that's fine. But along with losing weight I want to lower my cholesterol so that I can perhaps cut back on that medication and also I would like not to blow the sphygmomanometer when I get my blood pressure taken. Again, this would mean less medication.

And I'm not going to lie- I would very much like not to cry every time I get on a scale or catch sight of myself in a mirror. 

And that's what's on my mind right now. 

Glen is heading back up to Lake Seminole tomorrow and Gibson is going with him this week. Hurray for Gibson! I was going to make them chicken and dumplings and I got the whole broth/stew thing done and decided that instead of dumplings, this is going to be a soup and I added some nice brown basmati rice to it. That will be far better when it comes to transporting it and heating it up. Mr. Moon gave this his whole-hearted approval. 

Tonight we're having yet another salad with bread that is about to go into the oven. It's made of whole wheat flour, oat bran, and white flour. It also has molasses in it. If I have one weakness when it comes to sweets now, it's molasses. I know that molasses is not one bit better for me than white sugar. All the sugars from completely refined to dark molasses or cane syrup have the same chemical formula. 

C ₁₂H ₂₂O ₁₁

Different forms of the sugar we eat may have trace minerals that more refined versions do not but as I always say- they call them trace minerals for a reason. In other words, I am not fooling myself, I am saying that I am not afraid to eat some sweet things. 
Except, obviously, for mangos. 

Jesus.

I can't talk about politics in any form tonight. I just can't. 

Moving on then...

Ms. Moon