Different Day, Different Way

See that? That was the temperature here on my little kitchen porch at seven thirty this morning. Sixty-five degrees? On July 21? No-fucking-way.
And yet, there you are.
I slept with the window open last night and the AC off. On July 21st. This is craziness! And it's so beautiful. The humidity can't be above fifty per cent which is like the Sahara for us. Unbelievable.
And this cool dry air is undoing the little tropical wave that was forming and perhaps heading to the Caribbean and so I don't have to worry (for this moment) about a hurricane hitting Cozumel about the same time we do.
If we create our own realities, I'm doing a heckofa job, Brownie!

We leave day after tomorrow. Am I ready? No-fucking-way.
I've got a list a mile long for today. I'm meeting up with Jessie to take her to the orthopedic doctor to see what's up with that knee. I need to buy chicken feed. I need to get my antidepressant refilled. I need books. I NEED BOOKS! And I need to go to the library to take books back. I need cat food and camera batteries and wasp spray. Boy. Do I need wasp spray.

Instead of dreaming last night that I was in a dumpy motel in Vegas, I dreamed I was at a high school reunion. Yeah. I know. Should have been a nightmare. My last actual one was. Well, at least the part where that really strange geeky guy from our class started trying to feel up all the girls he'd never even had the guts to ask out and Mr. Moon was suddenly seven-foot-ten instead of his usual six-foot-ten and was going to take the guy outside by the ears and kick his ass. "Don't do it!" I pleaded. "It's not worth it!"
He didn't but it was scary there for a minute.
Anyway, the dream I had last night was sweet. And in a way, I was the perpetrator of unrequited passion. Well, it was a mutual thing- I was kissing all the boys I'd never kissed in high school. Sweetly and innocently. I swear. The cute, quiet boys whose smiles I still must have tucked in my pocket somewhere. And someone had left a baby (there's always a baby) and she was cold and I dressed her warmly and held her to me while the reunion was going on. And then she was fine.

So this morning I feel cool and calm and excited to go on my trip with my sweet husband whom I shall kiss tens of thousands of times. Sometimes sweetly and innocently and sometimes, well, not so innocently. And we'll hold hands! We'll be the sweet old couple who holds hands! I love to hold hands, even though when I hold Mr. Moon's hand I sort of look like a child with her daddy. So what?

And last night I prescheduled a bunch of old posts to magically appear while I'm gone. There is no rhyme or reason to them. Some are funny, some are not. I was going to get the kids to guest blog but it seemed to be weighing heavily on them and I don't want to distract them from taking care of my chickens while I'm gone. So you get the summer reruns. Hell, if it's good enough for TV, it's good enough for blessourhearts.

And there you have it.

Oh- here's a poem I got today off the Prairie Home poetry e-mail I get daily. I think it's advice we can all take:

	Advice to Young Poets by Martin Espada The Republic of Poetry) -- Never pretend to be a unicorn by sticking a plunger on your head

And here's a picture of one of my lady banana spiders and her little man. Isn't she lovely?

She'll be a lot bigger when I get home. And her husband may or may not be there depending just how bad her PMS gets.
All will be revealed.

Love....Ms. Moon