Last night it rained. The rain was loud and heavy for a while. Surprisingly, both dogs went out before bed. They didn’t mind the wet. The rain just started again. I saw it against the den window. It will rain on and off all day.

I had a late start this morning. I slept in for the first time in a while. The dogs stayed with me. I woke up first. Nala was reluctant to get off the bed. Henry got up and waited on the stairs for me. I love that he does that. They both went out, came in for treats and then got comfortable for their morning naps. My father used to say he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

Sundays in Ghana were different than any other day of the week. The cafeteria was reconfigured so that the benches became pews for a morning service. My students wore their three piece traditional dresses. Each of the four classes had their own prints. Religious figures from town sat in chairs at tables in front of the students. Hymns were sung and there was one sermon. The speakers alternated from among the town’s religious leaders: the white father, the minister from one of the churches or the imam from the mosque. One Sunday I got stuck. It was about the scariest thing I did in Ghana. My inspiration wasn’t the Bible. It was Aesop. I talked about the grasshoppers and the ants and the boy who cried wolf. I still remember the look on my principal’s face. She never asked me again.

After the service, the older students were allowed to go to town. Photographers came to the school grounds and took pictures. My students changed from their uniforms to their best dresses. Every Sunday was a sort of celebration.

If I could, I would travel back in time to my favorite Sunday dinner, roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes and peas. It was the meal my mother cooked for me before I left for Ghana. I left on a Sunday. I remember the ride to Logan. We didn’t talk much. They walked with me to the gate. We waited together until the gate was open, and I could board. We hugged. I told them I’d call to let them know I had arrived in Philadelphia, our staging area. When I looked back before I went into the jet way, my mother waved. I think we both cried.

I am going to the dump today.

Saturday is special in itself. When I was a kid, it was the day to do whatever I wanted. It always started the same with Saturday morning TV and a bowl of Rice Krispies. I sat on the floor to eat and sat close enough to the TV to risk blindness.

I had Saturday choices of what to do usually dictated by the weather. In the winter, I could ice skate either on the swamp or the rink the town built in Recreation Park. The rink had a small building with a wood stove and benches where you sat and put on and took off your skates. Under the benches were all the shoes. Uptown, the movie matinee was in the early afternoon, a cartoon and a movie for a quarter and candy for a nickel. I bought chewy, long lasting candy like Sugar Babies or Jujubes. During the rest of the year I often rode my bike. The route was wherever my bike took me. In the summer, I’d hunt grasshoppers in the field below my house or catch frogs from the swamp. Sometimes I went to the library. I’d pick as many books as I was allowed. I’d put them in my bike basket. Often, when I went over bumps, some books would go airborne and fall out of the basket. On the worst weather days, I’d stay home nestled in my bed and read.

Today is cloudy. It is 55°. Rain is predicted. The house is quiet. The dogs are napping. Nala is stretched out on the couch. Henry is on my bed upstairs. Jack, the cat, is in his room asleep on a pillow. I’m on the couch with my feet up on the table. I’m on my second cup of coffee. I’m going to make toast. I just bought fig jam.

I wondered about toast. Who decided to toast bread and why it is mostly a breakfast food? My only guess was maybe bread got stale and toasting it saved it. Over time I’ve had toasters, the kind where the bread goes down and pops up when it is done. I remember bread getting stuck on the coils and using a knife to get out the bread. I didn’t unplug it. The toasters were chrome. They always sat on the counter. One of my Christmas gifts was a toaster oven. It was multi-functional. I could toast bread and cook food like pizza slices. I still have a toaster oven, my third.

Today I have a concert at Margaritaville, a hotel in Hyannis. It is their Jimmy Buffett convention. I’ve got my Hawaiian shirt and my Hawaiian uke. We’re playing not only Buffett songs but also summer songs. I have to organize the songs and tune my uke.