Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's Supermoon!

I'm all blah today.  I have no jam, or for that matter, I have no peanut butter or jelly either.  Thankfully I did do a tiny bit of writing in the morning but it was the unsatisfactory kind.  I don't believe I've even actually left the house today.  My jamlessness has a lot to do with that.  I puttered around only a tiny bit, managed to make slunch, or is that lupper?  Then I read for about five seconds before becoming incredibly sleepy and then crashed on the couch.  This is not exactly like me, especially seeing as I actually had some plans today which involved painting.  Usually after a nap I feel crap-o-rama so I don't nap.  But now I'm feeling all perky and frisky.  And not in the way you think, more in the, I should do something, perkiness.  Not painting though.  I hate painting unless I have lots of light. 

I'm trying not to get all pumped about the possibility that I will actually be able to witness some of the "supermoon" tonight.  It was supposed to be clouded over and we weren't going to see any of it but just in the last hour it has cleared up and the skies are good.  I can see the moon right now but it is still daylight so it isn't as impressive as it will be.  I was quite impressed with it last night...this morning? When I got up to pee and saw it, it was just setting on the other side of the lake.  I would have spent more time with it but I was tired and thought tonight would be better. 

So here at the Old Shoes and Tea Society when we are not busy painting weasels riding porcupines we are preparing for some moon watching.  I believe that requires moon walking, being all moony, wearing moon glasses, and drinking blue moons.  If I have any luck my camera will actually take some good pictures.  I am keeping my fingers and moon pant covered legs crossed. 

I think I will go and clean out my fridge, that should go nicely with my need for doing something useful today.  Too bad they are interviewing John Irving on CBC, I like listening to CBC while I do shit in the kitchen.  And before you get all in my face about not wanting to listen to John Irving, and my big change of attitude about him, in my defense I have to say that it is all his fault.  This winter I did a re-read of a bunch of his books and discovered that reading too much of him at once makes you not like his writing style.  I realize that guys are supposedly infatuated with their penises all the time, but please!  The latest one, Until I Find You, was crap.  Crap on a stick.  About half way through the book about Jack and his penis I finally gave up.  I know it is still kicking around here somewhere which says a lot for me and my aversion to destroying books, but I think I really should have used this one for fire starter.  In a way this made me a little sad too, I used to like Owen Meany, and Garp, and the bears, but not now.  Now I feel the same way about them as I did when I tried to go back and re-read some of the old Zane Grey books I loved as a kid...ewwwww.