We have another lovely day. It is sunny and 63°. The air is quite still. Nothing disturbs the quiet. Many of the oak leaves have died on the branches. The yard has a layer of fallen leaves, most of them red-yellow. I can hear the crunch from those dead leaves when the dogs run the yard.

Henry continues to drive me crazy about the dog door. Yesterday he came in the door twice so he could bark from the front door at some hapless people walking their dog on the street. Later, though, he refused to come in and stood outside banging the door and crying. I can take it only so long, but there is more. His head and one front paw were inside the kitchen through the door. He was looking for me, and, as soon as he saw me, he pulled his head and paw outside so I could open the door for him. Expletives deleted.

I go to bed in the wee hours. At that time, the only light shining other than mine is my neighbor’s outside door light. It is always lit, even in the daytime. Last night, at close to nine, I stood at the back door waiting for the dogs. All of the houses were dark except my neighbors’ outside light was lit, but their house had no other lights. Are all my neighbors in bed that early? Are they all out somewhere? Is this a re-creation of the Twilight Zone episode The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street? I was flummoxed.

When I was a kid, I was seldom scared. I remember I was at my friend’s house one night when we heard noises in the bushes. I gave a quick thought to the man with the hook, which caused a little unease, but I decided to be brazen. I yelled and demanded the intruder come out or I would call the police. The intruder did. It was another friend trying to scare us. Another time my parents had gone grocery shopping leaving my brother and me home. I heard rustling in the bushes and ran under the bed. The door knob rattled. I pretended bravery and yelled from under the bed, about the worst hiding place. It was my father who answered my yelling. He was just scaring me, not funny I told him, still feigning bravery.

I did get to the dump yesterday which gave me a sense of accomplishment. I also stopped to buy bread and cat food. That was the most outside I’d had in close to a week.

My dance card has nothing today, but I do have my usual uke events starting tomorrow so I am back in the swing. My sloth is muttering.

This morning is a delight. The air is still. It is sunny and 60°. Many of the branches on the trees in the backyard are bare. Fallen leaves cover the driveway and the deck. Earlier, the dogs romped a bit in the yard then came in for their morning naps. They are such creatures of habit.

The trash and recyclables are out by the car. It is dump day. I remember my father always went to the dump on Sunday mornings, almost ceremonial trips. He loved the dump. If I had brought home a friend for the weekend, my father always offered them an invitation to go with him to the dump. Formal clothing was optional. Back then the dump was filled with tall piles of trash. Seagulls flew in circles around the piles. They were raucous. They screeched and squawked. They were a highlight.

My breakfast eggs in Ghana were fried in groundnut, peanut oil. They were delicious and had a wonderfully nutty taste which raised the common fried egg to a new level of flavor. When I came home, I found the taste of my eggs to be common, boring, so I went and bought a bottle of peanut oil, Planter’s oil with Mr. Peanut on the front, and I cooked my eggs in it. I was back in egg nirvana.

Before Ghana, I had never tasted plantain, okra, pawpaw aka papaya, mangoes or garden eggs aka baby eggplants. I didn’t even know most of them existed. I did not like mangoes. I found them messy and that giant pit impeded the eating. They, to me, had a weird smell, like furniture polish. I threw away most of my first mango. Later, I gave one another try. I liked it. Either I had changed or the mango had. I’m thinking my palate had expanded while the mango stayed the same. Every day for lunch I had cut up fruit, mango was a star.

Last week I stayed home the whole week. This week I will reenter the world. On my dance card I have my usual uke practice and lesson, and I have two concerts. I get paid this week so I’ll also grocery shop. Henry will go to the vets to have his ears checked. It will be a busy week.