Might as well blame the minor incidents of the last couple of days on something. It was the FULL MOON that gave me a migraine, caused me to search the house for a missing spoon at 2 am, and made Beryl play with a snake.
There’s not much else to say about the “Respect for the Aged” weekend since my main activity over the holiday weekend was napping and drawing my pain. Sunday and Monday in bed sounds luxurious, but it really wasn’t.
On Tuesday, Tod & I went out for pizza lunch at Da Pe Gonzo at Hotasho. I must have been in a “try anything once” mood because I ordered tried the Mexicana pizza, which featured salsa, peanuts and raw onionsIt was better than it sounds. Then I tried a Frisk drink to calm my queasiness. It was minty with a bubblegum tinge Just like Frisk, the menthol lasted a while. My stomach was calmed and my breath fresh. Mission accomplished.
The day was beautiful, so we made a quiet stop at Panorama Park in Futsuu. Tod’s taken the week off so he has time for fun. But I am not quite feeling fun. The views were pretty and we stopped at Oyama Fudoson on the way home for another lofty view.
I will also blame the moon – too brinht, too energetic – for why I woke up at 1:30 in the morning feeling frantic about a teaspoon. We have three matching spoons from my childhood flatware and I have only seen two recently. Where was the third spoon?
I tried to calm myself back to sleep with my favorite breathing technique: breathe in slowly, exhale and bring to mind a word; repeat with a different word each time. I usually conk out within 6 or 7 rounds, but my mind was racing over that spoon’s whereabouts. I got out of bed at 2. The moon was beautiful and bright. I hunted for the spoon for two hours, looking in likely places (back of the utensil drawer) and unlikely places (my purse). No spoon.
Now I was on a quest. This is my perfect spoon and I wasn’t going to just let it go. The size of the spoon, 5 7/8″ puts it between the tiny teaspoons of Japan and too big tablespoons we own. If it can’t be found, I want to replace it. I looked up Wallace Stainless patterns. It has the same squared off handle as the popular mid-century modern “Bright Star” pattern from the early 60s. Eventually I found it; WAS31 is the pattern name. But no spoons in that pattern appeared for sale online.
So I went back to searching in real life. I looked in a dozen more places and finally found it dropped in the gap between the cabinet and the fridge. 4 am.
I was scheduled to spend the rest of the morning teaching – first yoga, then papermaking. I zombied through them with tired eyes and the vestiges of a migraine. When I got back in the afternoon, I took a long nap to ease my head. Later on Tod & I threw together a casserole to use up leftovers and then, just as our dinner was coming out of the oven, another moon-related drama.
Beryl came in through the cat door followed closely by Fritter. She sounded garbled and out of sorts. Was she carrying a mouse? Nope, she had an injured paw. She didn’t really want me to touch her, so I had to guess that either she’d gotten it caught in something or she’d been bitten by a snake. A little while later, when her leg swelled up, it was clear that it had been a snake. One she had clearly been playing with as the moon rose.
She’s going to be okay, and she is milking her injury for extra treats. And like the moon-addled cat lady that I am, I have been indulging her.
The moon leaves its full phase tonight and I am not going to miss it.
