No werewolves though, just a lady and her rabbit. Oh and the tree. Her husband probably wished that he had shot down the moon instead. None of the stories explained how the rabbit ended up on the moon and it just occurred to me today to ask. Nobody knew. Darn Chinese myths and their loopholes. It's going to keep me up all night.*
But now that the moon festival is almost over, I'm officially instituting my own celebrations for crab season. I've begun mapping out all my crab routes. Still trying to decide whether investing in my own eating tools will be worth it though.
We dug up some old albums in our fireplace last night. Apparently when I was nine, I took meticulous notes on Cody's birth and baby milestones. I obsessed over how much Cody fed and even documented how Mom's Christmas wish was for Cody to poo because he hadn't done so for 9 days. And it was obvious that little me was sort of jealous because I wrote how "to my concern, . . . everybody likes Cody." But I did wrap up that up with a little flourish, generously saying that "it is an honor to have Cody in our home." I guess I still treated him as a guest and expected him to leave at a more convenient time.
Somehow, he just stayed.
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* Apparently Wikipedia knows what the rabbit is up to. I've never heard this version before.
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