Last night, I spent the evening in a time capsule talking on the phone with a long time friend. We met in the first grade, Sister Redempta’s room, and spent all of elementary school and most of high school together. He lives in Florida now. A while back we reconnected on Facebook. During our late night conversation, a marathon conversation, we talked about our common history, childhood friends, music, books and our lives in between then and now. We talked together from 12:30 until 3; consequently, I slept until 11. It was the most amazing conversation.

Today is dark and rainy. It is warm despite the dampness. Henry has been in and out several times. I have a to do list, as usual, but it is all inside. Laundry is on the list, no surprise there. The basket has finally made it to this floor. I have some plants to repot, bills to pay and valentines to send. I may even make cookies. I bought the ingredients yesterday at stop 2, the grocery store. Stop 1 was the dump, 3 Agway and 4 the candy store for Valentine’s Day chocolates. I was busy.

I am safe from the rocking chair. Henry knocked a pillow off my bed which hit the chair and made it rock. He jumped up and growled. That chair won’t dare move again.

My cleaning couple is here. I had to turn up the TV to hear it above the vacuuming. Oh, how I suffer. Henry shook when Lee tried to pat him so Henry is now sitting right beside for his protection, not mine. I guess I’ll have to be more social for Henry’s sake. He needs to meet more loving people.

I track the mileage on my car each week, not for any mechanical purposes, but to see my activity for the week. Last week, during the Polar Vortex, I went 8 miles. This week I have gone 12. My car will last forever.

Today is cloudy but warm. I’m watching the Patriot’s duck boat parade. The crowd is immense. The team is loving it. The noise meter is off the charts. Even Bill Belichick is smiling and waving.

My muse is elsewhere, maybe in Boston at the parade or maybe at the beach walking on the sand closest to the water. The sun would have been a nice addition, but I’m happy with the warmth of a still day.

Near my front door is a basket filled with hats, gloves, scarfs and mittens. My outside shoes are underneath the coat rack. On the rack are vests and Henry’s new coat. It is my winter corner.

My house has Africa in just about every room, mostly colorful Bolga baskets made in Bolgatanga, my other home town. I have wooden figures, metal gold weights, watercolors, woven fabrics, a couple of table runners and a tablecloth, also from Bolga. Upstairs I have dresses and shirts all made from Ghanaian fabrics. They mean the world to me.

I have two years to save enough for what will probably be my last trip to Ghana. It will be my anniversary, fifty years since Peace Corps service. I need to save at least $5000, a sum which seems so very large right now, but I am determined to get there, and when I am so determined, nothing stands in my way.