The morning is chilly, only 65°. It is cloudy and damp, and the weather for today won’t get much better. I’m a bit cold. Only a couple of days ago I was sweating. September is an odd month. It is both summer and fall a day or two apart.

Nala has been stealing trash again. I noticed an empty dog biscuit box outside, but I left it there. No way was I venturing down the stairs to the backyard. She must have known how much I hate outside trash as she brought it back into the house. Yesterday I saw an empty coffee bean bag on the deck. It was raining so I left it there. Nala was kind enough to bring it back into the house. She also brought in a stick, and she and Henry took turns chewing it. I’ve been picking up bits of bark.

When I was growing up, my mother didn’t work outside the house. She didn’t even drive back then. She was always there for us. She’d make us breakfast in the morning before school. My favorite was boiled eggs in an egg cup. She’d cut the toast into strips and put the strips on a plate around the egg cups. I loved dipping the toast into the egg. The egg cups were yellow chickens and hens from Fanny Farmer. I have a couple she gave me when I brought my house. In the winter she’d make us oatmeal. I’d add milk and cover it in sugar. I always had cocoa in the morning while my brother had tea. My school lunches were so good one of my friends who had the same lunch box kept trying to sneak and switch so she could have my lunch.

All of my life I have divided my clothes into school clothes and play clothes. Because I wore a uniform, I had to change as soon as I got home from school. Even when I was an adult, I’d change my clothes as soon as I got home from school, from work. The only time I didn’t change was when I lived in Ghana. I wore dresses there all the time as that was the custom for women. Sometimes, though, I’d change into shorts or something comfortable, but I never left the house unless I wore a dress. Now, I only wear play clothes.

I’m still limping, but my leg is getting a bit better. I don’t moan or groan as much. I do get annoyed at Henry as he won’t come in the dog door. I leave him outside, but then he starts crying so I have to go let him inside. He knows how to work me. I limp down the hall muttering.

This entry was posted on September 8, 2025 at 1:01 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.