Imbolc Valentine Moon
February always seems to scoot by so fast. It’s the 19th and there are only 9 days left, this not being a leap year. I suppose one reason February seems to move so fast to me is my birthday is in the exact middle of the month, except for those leap years.
Last leap year we plunged over the cliff and down the snake hole into Trumpland. At least that can’t happen again this year; though we do have to navigate the never (we wish) land created by the Disney of political horror. Perhaps Trump is Peter Pan, the boy who would not grow up. If so, does that make Kellyann Conway his Tinkerbell? Even if she dresses like the toy soldier from the Nutcracker Suite?
Went grocery shopping with Ruth yesterday. First time I’ve gone in a while. It was fun having Ruth along. She finds many things that she needs, things not on the list. Yesterday one of them was a potato bagel that we shared on the way back home. Delicious.
Jon moves the last of his things out of Pontiac Street today. I’m hopeful this will be a sharp demarcation point, maybe a turning point in the whole divorce process. His considerable work on that house made it a difficult place to leave and to be shut out of for the last nine months. The restraining order made it so. Finally removing the physical objects that bound him there will help him look forward, no longer tethered by dishes, records, bicycles, pots and pans and books still lodged, like something between the teeth, in his former home.
Our contribution will be taking care of Gabe and Ruth today.