The heat is cranking. It is a cold morning at 49°. It won’t get much warmer. The day, though, is pretty but best seen from inside, out the window. We have bright sun, a blue sky and a breeze, sometimes even a wind. I have no reason to leave the house. I will stay warm and cozy inside.

When I was a kid, I had a small turntable for my records. It was its own carrying case. The records were yellow and red, 78’s. I remember Frosty the Snowman, Home on the Range and a few Disney songs. I used to sing along. I still have a few of those records in an old record case, and I bought a turn table a few years back so I could listen to my old records, the 33 and 1/3 albums, my LP’s, and my 45’s. The record player came with a few discs for the 45’s so they’d fit on the turntable sort of knob in the middle. I like to play the albums when I read. They crackle a bit, but it is a welcome sound, one straight out of my memory drawers. My oldest LP’s are Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary. I have a Roy Orbison Greatest Hits album I bought in Hyannis. I remember my brother and I had hitched to Hyannis, did a bit of shopping then met up with my father at his office. He was surprised to see us but not pleased we had hitched, but back then we felt safe hitching.

In Ghana I had my cassette recorder and some cassettes of my favorite singers and groups. I played the recorder just about every night. The music was comforting, familiar. I, of course, brought Peter, Paul and Mary along, Album 1700, Joni Mitchell’s Clouds, Simon and Garfunkel’s Bookends and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s Deja Vu. Later, my sister sent me a cassette of songs she had recorded from the radio. None were familiar but became familiar over time.

Nala is a cheeky beast. I was in the bathroom, and she stopped at the bathroom door and looked at me defiantly. She had a napkin in her mouth stolen off the den table. She took it outside and shredded it.

Yesterday I crossed the dump off my to-do list, but I added washing the kitchen floor and polishing the furniture. The list is never ending. I think I’ll start writing it in calligraphy, more of a work of art than a chore list.

This entry was posted on October 28, 2024 at 12:20 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.