Check out the moustache in this fugly ugly. We’re on the moomindeck and I am slouching in my cheap plastic deck chair after a work day with my covid hair in a ponytail.

I could hear the GG futzing around in his lair Thursday afternoon (February 13) and when I heard the scanner going, I knew he was making valentine cards. Of course. He does this every year. I get him candy, this year fun and fancy custom chocolates from bonbonbon.com, over in Hamtramck. A couple of those were included with my birthday flowers this year and I was like “where have you been all my life”? And the answer would be “not alive yet” because I’m sure the bonbonbon gals are I dunno gen Y or Z or whatever we are on now. I can’t keep track.

Anyway. This year’s crop of valentines numbered five. One for meeeee. One for each daughter (delivered on foot and by car). One for niece Pengo (mailed to Hawaii). And one for the female person of porterization. The male person of porterization looked a little bereft until the GG quickly said, “I don’t give valentines to guys”.

My card is multi-page with a page for feathers, a page for a dollar bill, and one for a crappy photoooo. He made a trip to a craft store for the feathers and googly eyes. Actually it was Staples. Who knew Staples had stuff like that?

MAGAt that the GG is, he also has some endearing traits. People are complicated.

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