Beltane and the waning crescent of the Island Moon
Friday gratefuls: The Hebrew alphabet. Sleep. Murdoch curled up beside me while I took my class this morning. Joe. His integrity. Seoah, her craziness. Mary, her resilience. Covid. Vaccines. Wind. Electricity. Water. Gas. Being done with Gas. Those two environmentalists who won spots on the Exxon board. Kate, always Kate.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Birds. Overcast Sky.
“Don’t be sad, but Joe is my focus right now.” Seoah on the fact that she had decided to make Joe Chicken Parmesan. Meaning, as she see often says, that we could eat it or make our own supper. Good enough. It was delicious. Again, a Seoahism, “Compliments to the chef.” Said by her, With a laugh.
Basketball. Michael Jordan. The Last Dance. Watching this with Joe. Not only about Jordan’s last season, the years leading up to it. When Joe moved from 10 to 17. Our memories. His and mine. “Hey, remember when we went to Chicago and there was that tattoo convention at the hotel?” “Oh, yeah!” His transition from boy to young man. A sweet powerful time in both our lives.
Seoah came in while we watched carrying a contraption that cast dicso-like lights on the ceiling. She hadn’t taken her evening walk due to rain and had extra energy. A lot.
Eigtheen more days. Half way tomorrow. Almost two months after Kate’s death. The chittering chaos in my soul has calmed. Grief now. WWKD. Smiling at a memory. Sighing at the Bishop Museum. Turtles and Octopi. Oh, Kate. Reminding myself that she’s dead, not waiting back home. I hope this means things will be less painful moving forward. Don’t want to assume, but maybe so.
Joe came home last night with surprising news. What is it? Your passes came through! Tonight we’ll visit base security, get our pictures taken. After, we can leave and return without our minders. Oh, happy day. Plan on taking the bus to Chinatown soonest.
Not tough here without a pass, I admit. Though. The ability to move freely matters. Ready to wander a bit. Looking forward to the same back home. As much a mental freedom as a physical one.
Gonna hit the North Shore during the week. No, not the Grand Marais, Grand Portage north shore, but the Oahu north shore. That’s where this Island opens up to the storms of the Aleutian Islands, creators of big surf. In particular the Banzai Pipeline for me. Remember surfiln’ music from way back in the day? Not much in the Kau season. Still.
Looking at the world through the wide end of a telescope. Further away, out of reach. Glad about that.
Talked to Alan Rubin yesterday. Catching up on the Rubinesque. A few more doggy photos from Emily. I miss Rigel and Kepler. A lot. Paid for the Lilac bed, the Iris bed with Zelle, a money transfer app. I’ve ordered dog food and meds from Chewy. Keeping my hand in, even though thousands of miles away. Mostly good.
Class this morning with Jamie. 5:30 am. Not fully awake. Still good to at least listen. Another Colorado connection.
Ancient ones on Sunday. Staying linked to friends and family.
The transfer of funds from the IRA to my name and my Wells Fargo account happened. At last. IRS rules. Kate’s IRA distribution for the entire year had to pay out at her death. That’s so Uncle doesn’t miss any taxes from her for the year 2021. A fair chunk, now mine to manage rather than having it come monthly from Bond and Devick.
Inching toward a new life with many moving parts. Going slow here. Island time. The pace will pick up when I head back to the Mountains.