The rain has finally stopped, but the day is still cloudy and dark. Everything is wet, even my kitchen floor has muddy dog prints. The dogs, meanwhile, are on the couch enjoying their morning nap. They are exhausted after having been awake for an hour and a half. Speaking of dogs, I think Nala has been up to her old tricks. I noticed a mouse had taken up residence in the kitchen. I put down the mouse hotel and kept checking. I caught and relocated said mouse. I reset the hotel and kept checking. On day three the hotel had disappeared; the whole thing was gone. The choices were limited. Either several burly mice had moved it across the kitchen floor and hidden it in another room or a yet to be named culprit saw the mouse in the hotel and carried the whole thing outside. I lean toward the last guess, but the rain has kept me from checking the yard.

When I was a kid, I filled most summer days. I was always busy. The only stop was for lunch, either I went home or ate the sandwich I had brought with me, always bologna on white bread. Sometimes I included cookies with my lunch, always Oreos. Amazingly my taste hasn’t changed since then. I’m quite content with a bologna sandwich but usually on other than squishy white bread and Oreos though now I lean toward double stuffed and lemon. I always consider that lunch the grass roots of my palate.

My mother always cooked hearty foods. For supper, they’d be meat, mashed potatoes and a vegetable. She cooked what she knew we and my father would eat. He was a bit picky. To him, garlic only belonged with shrimp scampi. Mashed potatoes were served straight, no seasonings except salt. He loved canned asparagus, fresh ears of corn and green beans, canned of course. I once served him a pork roast with garlic cloves in slits around the roast, He loved it, but he caught my mother cooking the same dish, and he had her remove the garlic. He wouldn’t eat it he said. It was mind over matter.

When I was in training in Ghana, getting sick was part of the experience. Early on, during the first two weeks, we had so many shots at one time most of us got reactions. I watched a line of red travel up my arm. I had a fever. Diarrhea was common among us trainees because of the different foods we were eating and the water we drank, but I did not get it. I survived six weeks of fairly good health, but then it happened. It was so bad I sat outside the bathroom doors all night as I knew I’d never make it from my room even at a run (pun here). It lasted only a couple of days, but would reappear occasionally during my two years. At no time was the culprit ever identified.

I have an empty dance card today I’m going to stay in my cozies and be comfortable. I have a book I’m reading and a jigsaw puzzle to finish. I am now back in control of my TV. The new remote came yesterday. I do not have to watch Midway again.

This entry was posted on August 22, 2026 at 2:30 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.