Quarter of eight.
A few hours ago I was able to watch the full moon through a gap in the wispy clouds. Since then it started raining again. I often forget that the moon is always there whether it’s visible or not. Some cultures associate the moon with reason because it reflects the sunlight, but to me it symbolizes imagination and madness, hence the word “lunacy.” It should be a fairly easy jaunt over to the store this morning, though some days I don’t feel very motivated. And it’s very odd to realize how long my parents have been gone. In December it will be twenty years for my mother, yet here I still am. I believe the last word of Moby Dick is “orphan.” Perhaps many of us feel that way, orphaned by the universe that doesn’t care. The rain comes and goes with variable force, and soon I have to go out in it. Gray days really bring out the green of the flora. Life thrives on the rain and sun. We could use even more rainfall this year in Oregon…
Nine o’clock. The rain was light. I didn’t take my umbrella, and just wore a black raincoat with the hood up. I waited as a huge school bus crossed my path on Fremont. When I got to the market, the customer ahead of me had her card declined twice and finally succeeded on the third try. Other than that I didn’t notice much. The big Tuesday shipment of food was sitting by the freezer, waiting to be unpacked. Probably Cathy and Suk will take care of that later this morning. I saw a little snail on the sidewalk and thought of picking it up just for fun. But people would’ve believed I was crazy or stupid, so I left the snail to struggle on the concrete.
robgradens 