Today will be rainy. The morning is getting darker. It is in the 50’s, but the air has a chill. The dogs were out and back inside quickly. They then went upstairs to nap. My house is quiet.

Yesterday was a good day. It was a lazy day. My dinner was delicious and the plate was filled. I watched a rerun of the Plymouth parade and looked for my cousins, three of whom march with the Northstars. I found them all. I didn’t have M&M’s, nuts or tangerines, my childhood parade snacks, but I did have crackers and cheese and later, after delivery, shrimp. I did miss the M&M’s.

When I was a kid, Friday was allowance day. I’d get my 50¢ from my mother. If the day was warm enough, I’d ride my bike uptown to the Children’s Corner store and buy a book. The store had a tall bookshelf in the back. It was filled with Whitman books, the sort with hard cardboard covers. I bought my Trixie Belden books there. The books cost 49¢. I’d buy a piece of penny candy with the change. I was rich.

The menu today was always turkey. Usually lunch was turkey sandwiches with all the fixings. Supper was a rerun of Thanksgiving dinner, but I never minded. I loved turkey. We only had it twice a year, Thanksgiving and Christmas, so turkey meant the holidays to me.

I am a sloth. I had a dream of staying in my cozies, but my dream is dashed. I have to go out to Orleans for PT. I have to get dressed, such a burden.

In the corner of my bedroom is a pile of boxes and packages. They are all Christmas presents. I haven’t any idea how many and to whom as they have been piling for weeks. On my maybe today, maybe not today to do list is organize gifts.

One of my radio stations has started playing Christmas carols. They do it each year. I will not complain. Christmas carols have a short shelf. They are usually played for only a couple of weeks. That is not even time enough given the number of carols, some so obscure they seldom see the light of day. I’m leaving my radio on that station, and I’ll sing along joyfully.

Today is a melange of posts from Coffee’s past. I remember and miss dearly my mother and father. These memories keep them close.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I wish you all a day filled with family and good friends. As you sit around the table enjoying a good meal and each other, think of all your gifts and blessings and give thanks.

I remember the smell of the kitchen while the turkey cooked. I used to sneak and open the oven to steal the crisp end of the stuffing hanging out of the turkey. I remember being shocked when I was a kid to find out the stuffing was not in the turkey’s head. The kitchen windows were steamed from the heat of the oven. All four stove burners had pots filled with vegetables. I especially remember one pot because I think my mother had it forever. The pot had a dent and a black spot on the side which never disappeared. It usually held the potatoes. 

We watched the Macy’s parade while still in our pajamas. We noshed while we watched. I remember tangerines, M&M’s and mixed nuts in the shell served in a special bowl. The nutcracker was thick metal and looked a bit like scissors in having two sides. I always thought the walnuts were the hardest to crack. I liked the Brazil nuts but not the almonds. I’m still not a fan of almonds.

Befitting the occasion, we sat in the dining room. The table always looked lovely covered in a holiday tablecloth and set with special dishes. I can see my father at the head of the table eating his drumstick. He loved gravy and mashed potatoes. He loved the canned cranberry sauce. He loved asparagus right out of the can. My favorites were creamed onions and a special squash dish, a recipe from my aunt. The table groaned with dishes. Passing those filled dishes around the table took some maneuvering with the table so tightly packed with food.

My father ate quickly so he could get back to his football games. The rest of us sat at the table to finish eating. Soon enough, the table emptied, and my mother and I tag-teamed for the cleanup. I cleared the table, and she loaded the dishwasher, and we both cleaned the kitchen. After everything was cleared, we brought out the pies. The always pies were apple and lemon meringue. Sometimes they’d be blueberry, pumpkin or sweet potato. My father loved his apple pie with cheddar. That’s a New England thing. I had lemon meringue.

I am grateful today for so many things. I love my family and my friends who have become family. I hold my Coffee family close. We have never met but that’s no never mind. You don’t need to be related or even have met to be family. I am so thankful for the life I have been lucky enough to live. Today I’ll miss family and friends. It will be a quiet Thanksgiving. I’ll wear my turkey earrings, and I may even get dressed.

The sun is brilliant. Little is moving. Today is a calm day. It is also a cold day. I started my day sharing a banana with the dogs, having a bagel with cranberry apple jam which I also shared and two cups of coffee. The coffee is delicious, a new bag came the other day. It is from Mexico. I’m going to have another cup.

I don’t know when I first started drinking coffee every day. It was probably in college. My friends and I met every morning at the same table in the canteen. We’d race to be the first to finish the crossword puzzle in the paper. We’d laugh a lot. I remember we’d all turn our backs to whichever friend was talking. It drove all of us crazy, but it didn’t stop us. It was too funny. One of those friends came to visit me in Ghana. I loved showing him my country, but after that, I lost track of those friends while I was in Ghana. We wrote for a while then we didn’t. They went on with their lives while I led a different life. I made new friends who were sharing that different life. They are still my friends.

Nala’s thievery has taken an odd turn. This morning I did yard patrol. I could see paper towels strewn about so I took my prisoner’s stick and a trash bag. It didn’t take long as there were few papers, but I did find something she had stolen from my laundry basket, a pair of underwear. I was thrilled I found it before anyone saw it. Saying my dog did it seemed silly and a bit unbelievable, a sort of my dog ate my homework excuse.

My mother always bought an enormous turkey. It served for Thanksgiving dinner and supper that night when we always had open turkey sandwiches covered with gravy. I loved another leftover, toasted turkey sandwiches with stuffing and cranberry sauce. My second favorite was turkey salad followed closely by turkey soup. My father stripped the carcass. I used to watch him in wonder. He was proud of his talent of leaving no meat on the bone.

Today is a pretty day. It is also a cold and windy day. I have no plans. The dump can wait until Wednesday. I do need to water plants, my only chore for the day.

It must have rained a bit earlier this morning. The sides of the road were wet and there were drops on my paper’s plastic cover. I was surprised.

Yesterday’s concert went well. We had a good audience. I put my finger in the splint and Velcroed it to the next finger to help keep it still. It survived the whole concert, all two sets of it, but it did hurt by the time I was home so I left the splint off. My thumb got the worst of it. I used it to strum. The side of my thumb now has a blister.

I put more miles on my car this week than I have in a year. Two trips to Orleans for PT, a trip to Hyannis to see my doctor, a ride to Agway for animal food, a stop in Harwich for uke practice and yesterday’s going down cape to Eastham added up. I am not enthused. I do enjoy staying home. I am a sloth at heart.

This week I have only one PT and my uke lesson. We are starting our Christmas set. I hope my thumb heals.

I put a mid size pumpkin on my front steps. A bit back I noticed claw marks on it. I knew they were from a spawn of Satan. I then noticed a small hole then a larger hole and some pumpkins seed debris on the walkway. Yesterday the spawn was dining al fresco while sitting on the steps. I let him be. I let him enjoy this treat.

This morning I had an onion bagel and some bacon with my coffee. It reminded me of Sunday breakfast when I visited my parents. Sometimes we went out but mostly my father cooked breakfast. I can still see him in his grey flannel shirt, his khakis and a towel on his shoulder as he stood by the stove cooking. He always used the black cast iron skillet. First he cooked the bacon and then the eggs. He always asked what kind of eggs I wanted. He was a pro at eggs over easy. He never broke the yolk. I loved those Sunday mornings.

The frost is on the pumpkin, my windshield and the car’s back window. It is only 34° right now. I gasped a bit when I went to get the paper. It will get warmer, as high as 46°. That gave me a chuckle of sorts. It seems, given the season, I’ve lowered my expectations of warmer. I’m thinking flannel shirt and sweatshirt weather. I have a uke concert today down cape, Eastham, at the Turnip Festival. I’ll have to rewrap my finger and add the splint so I can play.

The dogs love this weather. They go out, do their business then come back in for a cookie. After that, they go back out again and stay out for a while.

Yesterday, I had groceries delivered. While I was bringing each bag into the kitchen, Nala, unbeknownst to me, was doing her own shopping in the bags. All of a sudden she was gone. She had disappeared. That is always a sign she is guilty of something. I went out and saw her prancing in the yard with the hot dog rolls in her mouth. She was carrying the bag by the top. I yelled for her to stop. She kept going. We did that for a while then she was gone again. I went in the house and checked upstairs. No Nala. I then noticed her on the couch with the rolls. They were fine, unopened without a bite mark. Good dog, Nala.

Tis’ the season for catalogues. I get several each day. I toss some right away as I haven’t any interest. Others I spend time with going from page to page hoping to find Christmas presents. I sometimes do.

The sunlight slants a different way in the fall. It seems to gleam. Tree trunks and leaves are almost highlighted. The sky is so very blue, a deep, deep blue uncluttered by clouds. Fall give us pretty days.

The morning feels warm at 43°. The sun was here earlier then disappeared but has since reappeared. Rain is predicted. I expect to stay home. I’ll get to watch and listen as the rain drops hit the house and windows. This is when I most miss the metal roof of my house in Ghana. When it poured early in the rainy season, it was as if I was surrounded by the rainstorm without getting wet.

On my first morning in Ghana, I stood outside my room on the second floor of the dorm at the school where we were staying. I remember looking at the roofs of the houses below me. They were all metal with ripples and many of them were rusted in spots. I could also see palm trees, the first I’d ever seen. I knew then I was somewhere else.

Nala stole the aluminum pie pans I had taken out of the cabinet so I could use them to make a couple of pies. I saw them in the backyard when I opened the door for Henry. I retrieved them and more trash. Later, I saw my upstairs bathroom basket outside. It is made of Ghanaian cloth so it was easily seen. She grabbed it when I tried to get it. I waited and waited and watched her run around the yard with it in her mouth. Finally the word treat got her to drop it. I grabbed her then the basket. Nothing is sacred in my house.

From the den to the back door, my floor has clumps of dust and fur. That is the route the dogs take to go into the kitchen, the yard, and it is where they eat each other’s muzzles when they play. I never walk down the hall without picking up some clumps.

Yesterday I had PT. My finger hurts today, but I have exercises I will do later. The objective of all of this is to get the finger to bend more. It is tight in the middle below the knuckle and bends barely half way. I have this weird glove with velcro to hold the finger down. It is pain for gain.

Science fiction movies are on the small screen today. I just finished watching Geostorm. It had a happy ending. The world was saved.

Nala has become an oracle but not a Cassandra which, given Nala, you might have expected. The other morning, Tuesday, she started playing with her Trump toy. He is wearing a blue suit and a red tie and has reddish orange hair. I haven’t seen him out of the toy basket in a while. Nala was predicting the announcement by resurrecting that toy.

Brown dead leaves hang from tree branches, and the ground is covered in the fallen leaves. A few trees still have some red, but many of their branches are bare. The only color is the blue sky. Today is cold because of the wind. I was out earlier and was glad to get home to my comfy, warm house. I have no plans for today or even tomorrow. I’m thinking of a couple of quiet days reading and lolling, sloth days.

When I was a kid, I loved fall. I’d walk on the curb and kick leaves. My friends and I would throw leaves at each other in sort of a rehearsal for our snowball fights. I’d watch my father burn the leaves he raked from the yard. I liked to see the smoke curl into the air. The aroma of those burning leaves is my favorite fall memory.

Once the weather got chilly, the heat came on. I could hear the hot water coursing through the radiators. I remember the steam. If I felt cold, I used to sit on a radiator until I was warmer. In the cellar was the furnace and the black tank holding the oil. It took up half of one wall. I remember when the oil man came and filled the tank. The hose from his truck was a long one as it had to reach from the street. I could smell the oil in the air.

We usually had supper around six. I could always count on potatoes as one of the dishes. Usually they were mashed. Even now, my favorite potatoes are mashed. They are one of my comfort foods. The only fresh vegetables besides the potatoes were carrots. They were disguised, mashed with the potatoes. I liked canned corn kernels and creamed corn except the cream corn was messy and sometimes seeped into the potatoes. I loved canned baby peas. We never had salad at supper nor was bread on the table the way it was on TV, like on the Cleavers’ table. If there were cookies left, they were dessert. We’d grab a couple and eat them in the living room while watching TV.

The house is quiet. Henry is asleep upstairs on my bed while Nala is beside me on the couch. They inspire me. I’ll nap later.

The earlier morning had a chill, but it didn’t feel cold. It is in the 40’s and will stay that way all day. The bright sun has a sharpness which shines only in the fall. The sky has a few clouds but is mostly blue. With no wind, it is still sweatshirt weather. I think it is a lovely day.

My dance card has a couple of events today. I have PT again for my finger which is still swollen. Some days it hurts to the touch while other days it doesn’t hurt at all. It is a weird injury. Tonight I have uke practice, the first I’ve been to since the big bite.

I have a couple of errands. Jack needs treats, and I need to go to the post office. I have a package to mail, and I need stamps.

Last night, Nala, the marauder, had white strips of white plastic, like trash bag white, in her mouth. I just took it out of her mouth and threw it away. This morning she had more. I also saw a pile of leaves just inside the back door. I tried to throw it away, but I couldn’t. It was wrapped in thread which continued outside. I followed the thread and found the source, a spool of thread. It had come from an antique wooden box under my table which holds spools of antique thread. While I was rewinding the thread, I saw the shredded white trash bag in the yard. It had come from Jack’s room. I missed Nala taking it outside. She has become stealthy.

When I was a kid, there was no countdown to Thanksgiving, not like Christmas. In school, to celebrate the holiday, we colored turkeys imprinted on paper. They were always Tom turkeys with their tail feathers spread. I remember I used my Crayola crayons and colored each feather differently. My Tom had a rainbow tail. My mother bought a few cardboard turkeys we’d put in the window, the picture window. That was about it until the big day with its traditions.

The chill of fall has finally taken hold. The daily temperature this week will only be in the 30’s. The sun is bright but not warm. The breeze is slight so the brown leaves at the ends of oak branches sway just a bit. Today will be a quiet day. I do have an errand, but I’m going to delay it until tomorrow. I have to go out then anyway.

When I was a kid, I didn’t love this time of year because playtime after school was cut short. It got dark early. We’d go inside and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV. I remember watching The Mickey Mouse Club and Superman. My mother cooked supper.

My father wore a suit to work. His shirts were always white and starched. He made a Windsor knot in his ties. In the winter he wore a top coat and a fedora. On Saturdays he did his errands. He also did seasonal yard work. That meant mowing the lawn in the summer and raking leaves in the fall. He’d wear his sort of play clothes. I remember baggy pants and a maroon jacket he’d wear in the fall. He never wore a hat on Saturdays. He loved wearing his hush puppies from Thom McCan. They were brown suede.

Both my parents were readers. My mother loved mysteries, and my father loved books like those written by Alistair MacLean. They are the reasons I became a reader.

When I was in Ghana, my town was lucky enough to have a library. I also had a Peace Corps book locker and read every book, some of them a couple of times. I went to the library often. I read every one of their mysteries. Many were written by authors I did not know like Ngaio Marsh. Reading was the way I spend so much of my leisure time.

One Christmas my package from home had some neat stuff to do to while away the time. There was an origami book which mostly thwarted me. I was never good at origami. I always ended up with just wrinkled paper. I remember a paint by number. That was really fun and became a decoration in my living room. There was always book or two. I loved my packages.