My computer died on Tuesday morning which is why the day’s entry was sparse. The screen was black. The loading slide loaded half way then stopped then reloaded half way then stopped and that happened on and on, over and over. I held back the tears. I looked on my iPad for possible solutions. I tried them all including the one which suggested I turn off the machine, hold on to at least seven keys then turn the computer back on. The only result of that fiasco was a sore hand and a black screen. I turned off my computer and wrote the day’s musings on my iPad. I couldn’t get the picture or the music to load so I stopped with my musings and left the computer to die with dignity.

I knew I didn’t have the money for a new Mac and just couldn’t imagine going back to Windows. I decided to work with my iPad. I wasn’t happy. The computer sat there in front of me taunting me. I covered it with a shroud. Okay, I didn’t, but I wanted to. On Wednesday afternoon my sister asked me if I’d tried again. I hadn’t but decided to give it the old college try. I flexed all the tips of my fingers anticipating. I turned it on. I heard music, the songs of angels. My computer was back!

I’m confused about the season. It is too warm for winter, but many trees are bare, and Halloween has passed. A shirt is warm enough for outside. My e-mailbox is filled with recipes for Thanksgiving. I’m dreaming of turkey especially after I keep seeing wild turkeys wandering. They are a sign, an omen.

Tomorrow I start finger therapy. My finger is looking good, at least by comparison. It is no longer encircled with an around the finger scab from the stitches which have almost disappeared; however, the knuckle and the finger above it are ugly, still misshapen and swollen. It gave me a memory. A science fiction film came to mind, one about an evil hand.

Last night while I was lying in bed, I thought I heard voices. I lifted my head off the pillow and listened more intently, but I didn’t hear a thing. I turned off the light and went to sleep. This morning I came downstairs and the TV was on. I hadn’t turned it off when I went upstairs to bed. That was strange, but I then remembered last night. I went to the back door to let the dogs in from the yard and went right to bed through the dining room. I didn’t think about the den and the TV. Either that or I am going a bit crazy.

When I was a kid, I loved the sound of the radiators. There was one on the wall at the foot of my bed. I could hear it gurgle and hiss. It sang me to sleep at night. When I was cold, I used to put my feet under the radiator until they either got warm or started to burn. My mittens went on top of the radiator when they were wet and covered with snow. My wet shoes went under the radiator to dry. This house has hot air. I can hear the blowing when the heat is on. I have a quieter house but nowhere to put my mittens.

Today is an ugly day. It rained during the night and will continue to rain on and off all day, but it is warmish at 61°. I love rainy days, and I love the lamps lit on rainy days. They shine through the gloom, through the darkness the rain brings. They give me a sense of warmth.

I hope to start playing my uke again tomorrow, my usual lesson day. I haven’t touched my uke in 5 weeks. I’ve lost my callouses. With the pins gone, I think I can strum with my thumb until my pointer finger is less swollen and can bend better.

The dogs are napping upstairs on my bed. I guess they love the comfort. I feel ignored.

Today is not a pretty day. The humidity is 92%. The clouds are grey, a lightish grey. Every now and then there is a breeze. I can see brown leaves at the ends of oak tree branches. I can also see some red leaves. I have nowhere I need to go today. I have no reason to get dressed. I’ll stay in my comfies.

When I was a kid, school was misery on Halloween. I was so excited for trick or treating I was distracted, paying only half attention to the lessons and the nun at the front of the room. I could hear every movement of the second hand, every click minute by minute. Time did not pass. The watched clock never moved.

When school was finally over, dismissal was noisy and loud. I went out the back door, the little used door. It gave me an advantage for the run home. Once there, I got out of my school clothes into my play clothes and went back to clock watching. I’d try to distract myself with a little TV. I’d bolt down my supper then beg my mother to let me leave to go trick or treating. It is too early was always her answer.

We’d get into our costumes and sit on the couch bag in hand. Finally we had out first trick or treater, and my mother would let us loose. When I was young, my brother and I used to go together. We’d start in our neighborhood and branch out from there. We went far afield. I remember the house with the columns across from the First National where they gave out nickel bars. We never missed that house. When there were few trick or treaters left and the outside lights had gone dark, we’d start for home. I remember the walk up Pomeworth Street and the sounds of our feet hitting the sidewalk pavement. I remember it was dark.

We got comfortable at home, put our candy in individual bowls and started the big swap, candy for candy, what we didn’t like swapped for what we did like. We’d go through our bowls. We had apples. Some of them had coins, a few pennies and a rare nickel. The money we kept. The apples we gave to my mother. I was never a fan of popcorn balls. We gave those to my mother too. We ate as much candy as we could before my mother put a stop to it. The evening had taken only an instant compared to the passing of the day. We stayed up later because we had no school the next day, All Saint’s Day. We did have to go to church though.

I stashed my bowl under my bed. It stayed there until it was empty. That was the unofficial end of Halloween.

Today is a wonderful fall day. The sun is shining and highlighting the blue sky behind it. It is 56°, but it will get warmer as the day passes. The dogs love this weather. They stay outside playing and chasing each other coming in only to wag tails and hope for treats. They usually get one.

When I woke up this morning, the day felt right. The weather is perfect. I enjoyed an everything English muffin with cream cheese, and I drank delicious coffee from Honduras. My usual two cups became three. I am wearing my best cozies: a red hoodie, warm socks and flannel pants, actually Christmas pants with lobsters, whales and crabs celebrating the occasion. The crabs are wearing Santa hats. The lobsters are decorating with lights. The whales have candy canes. The pants are wonderfully warm.

My sister told about her dream last night. She and I were in Boston in what was a sketchy part of town where the old Trailway’s bus terminal used to be. We parked our cars and went into a subway station right there, a station which existed only in her dream. We didn’t take the subway train for an unknown reason so we decided to go back to our cars. I was wearing an expensive red coat which attracted two 20 something guys who started to follow me. My sister tried to warn me but couldn’t get it out of her mouth. That was when two guys started following her. She woke up then and was still trying to scream.

We both remembered that terminal. I used to to go there to get busses home to the cape from school. A great magic shop was around the corner. There was a western bar near it. I remember a wagon wheel. The terminal was a bit gross and often some homeless guy was sleeping on a chair. There was a restaurant and a newspaper kiosk inside the station. I told my sister a memory about that station which has always stayed with me. I was sitting inside smoking my cigarette when they called my bus. I put the butt in the sand of an ashtray and started to grab my stuff when a guy, a gross guy, came over. He took the butt out of the ashtray and lit it. What was worse was he must have been watching me. I grabbed my stuff and ran to the bus.

Hooray!! The pins are gone. I saw the surgeon at the ungodly hour of eight this morning when he pulled out the pins and checked my finger. Even though the finger is still swollen at the knuckle, and the stitches have yet to disappear he was pleased and said it looked better than he had expected. He was surprised I hadn’t started therapy yet so I expect that will happen next week. Road to recovery here I come!

My dance is empty for most of the week. I only need to take Henry to the vet’s. That will be the only day I wear outside clothes.

My grandmothers wore old lady clothes, the same as all other old ladies. They wore flowered dresses with buttons and fronts which showed little neck. Their shoes were heels, thick, short heels. Stockings were a part of every ensemble. On rainy days one of my grandmothers wore a plastic rain bonnet and covered her shoes in plastic boots with a button across the fronts to close them. In the house aprons covered their dresses, aprons with bibs. My mother never wore old lady clothes though when I was young she sometimes wore a house dress. I don’t remember when it happened, but only lady clothes went out of fashion. Now, old ladies wear whatever they want. I swear high tops and sweatshirts.

On the way home this morning I stopped to buy an apple and a blueberry pastry. I had the apple with coffee and was kind enough to share with the dogs. The crumbled paper was on the table after we had finished. Nala gave me a look then stole the paper and ran into the yard. I didn’t bother to chase the brazen dog. I’ll just do a yard clean-up later. Speaking of Nala, she had her well dog vet visit yesterday. Miss Nala now weighs in at 61 pounds. The vet thought she looked great, in perfect condition. She had a couple of shots and a blood draw. Her nails were also trimmed. The tech who brought her back to me said she is sweet, and I am lucky they gave her back to me. Henry goes next week.

When I was a kid, I always thought life was easy. I liked school. I didn’t like church but only once a week was bearable, and it was more bearable if I sneaked in a book to read. Saturday was my favorite day. I could pick from so many things to do. I loved the matinee at the movie theater uptown. I got not only a movie but also cartoons and a candy bar. In the winter I could ice skate until my feet hurt. In the summer I could go swimming at the pool for only a dime. My bike was always at the ready. Most times I skated and swam with friends, but I was usually by myself when I went bike riding. I liked it that way. I could wherever I wanted.

Today is another day of rest. I woke up so late it was almost tomorrow. Nala has her well dog visit. It was Henry’s day but with my finger still painful I’m taking the easier dog. Nala likes the car, and I have a few errands to which she will be glad to come.

Tomorrow at 8 I am supposed to see my surgeon. I have hope that the pins will be gone but not forgotten. The finger is still swollen around the knuckle bone, the once fractured knuckle bone, at least I hope once fractured. I’ll give you the update tomorrow.

Until then….

Yesterday was a lovely day with the temperature over 70°· Today too is a delight with a bright sun, a blue sky and a high of 68°. Yesterday I was out and about doing a couple of errands. Today I’m staying close to home. I have a few chores. The dogs are outside and have been for a while. They came in only to get their morning biscuits and coffee then went back outside. They are loving the day as much as I am.

When I was a kid, Halloween planning started early. We never bought costumes from Woolworths, but I do remember the costumes sold there and kids wearing them. The costumes had a similar look, were worn over clothes, tied in the back and had plastic masks which got hot and made you sweat. The masks were held to the head with a black elastic which broke easily. We wore costumes my mother put together through sometimes we also wore masks, Lone Ranger sort of masks. My mother was quite clever in using what was on hand to make costumes. We decided what we wanted to be, and she figured out what we needed. One year my sister was a ballet dancer wearing a tutu. That one, though, was an obvious choice. My sister took dancing lessons. Ghosts were the easiest needing only a white sheet and holes for eyes. I was a hobo one year. Another year I was an old lady. I wore my mother’s fur stole. We sometimes carried Halloween shopping bags while other years we used pillow slips, wistful thinking I suspect.

I have ordered my Halloween candy. I’ll be giving out Hershey bars, Reese’s and Kit Kats, all candy I like in case of leftovers. It seems every year I get more kids. They love the big bars, what we used to call nickel bars. I figure my house is probably marked in some way, the way hobos used to mark houses when they were looking for food or work. Last year I had only a few bars left, probably a good thing.

It is a damp, dark and cloudy day. Nothing is moving. The leaves just hang at the ends of the branches. It is warm at 68° which was a surprise when I went to get the paper. The dogs are mostly out though Henry does come inside to bark at the front door. I checked. Henry was barking at shadows. Henry is a great barker at shadows.

My dance card is empty until Friday when Henry has his well dog visit and gets his shots. Nala goes next week. I go on Saturday, not for shots but to the surgeon at the ungodly hour of eight. I am hoping he will take out the pins.

It was one of those mirror under the nose mornings. I was awake until close to four. The dogs were sleeping on the bed and taking most of the room though I did manage to find a spot and some covers before I turned off the light. I woke up once and pushed Nala out of the way and then fell back asleep. It was after eleven when I finally woke up to what was left of the morning. Now it is later, after two cups of coffee, two pieces of toast shared with the dogs and the paper.

I bought cans of pumpkin. I’m thinking pies or muffins for two of my neighbors. One always gives me cookies at Christmas so I thought I’d return the favor. The other was my life saver who took care of the dogs and cleaned the house after the bite when I was in the hospital. Now I just have to find the wherewithal.

When I was a kid, I loved being in my room reading on a rainy day. I’d snuggle into bed and read away the afternoon. The sound of the rain on the roof and windows was almost soothing. My room was quiet. My brother and sisters stayed downstairs to watch TV while my mother made dinner. She’d call when it was ready.

We’d watch TV after dinner. Back then westerns were all the hits. I still remember most of the theme songs. We’d sit in front of the TV until my mother announced bedtime and reminded us it was a school night, as if we’d ever forget. Once upstairs, I used to sneak and read when I was supposed to be asleep. Sometimes I got caught.

The rain continues. The damp has stilled the trees. My deck is covered in branches, red and yellow leaves and acorns from yesterday’s rain. Scattered thunderstorms are predicted for today. The high will be warmish, in the mid 60’s. I need to be out today. Jack needs food, and I need a few things. I’ll run between the raindrops.

I have favorite flavors. Cinnamon is one of them. I sometimes have cinnamon toast for breakfast, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal is my new favorite. I even eat it as a snack. Vanilla is another flavor I love. Last year I made my own inspired by the homemade vanilla my sister gave me for Christmas a few years back. Hers packed a punch. The mints, spearmint and peppermint, are both on the list. Wintergreen chocolate patties are heavenly, and they are close to the top of my favorite flavors list.

The dogs are noisy. They run up and down the uncarpeted stairs and slide across the tile floor in the kitchen. They eat each other’s muzzles and growl. They go in and out the dog door which snaps behind them. Henry is the nosier animal. He barks at any movement of cars and people. He also barks at deliveries which is okay as he is the only way I know boxes are on the front steps. Nala sometimes makes noise as she tries to drag stolen items out the dog door. The other day it was a brown bag stolen from Jack’s room. It had empty cat food cans. When she heard me coming, she ran through the dog door without her booty.

One morning I was on my way to college, to Merrimack, and we were riding up Route 114. The road was, back then, underdeveloped in spots. We’d ride through stretches of trees on both sides of the road then they’d be some stores then more trees. The highway took us through Middleton and eventually to North Andover. At one spot that morning we saw police cars, both local and state. There were many of each. The police cars surrounded a car with open doors, and I thought I saw a body but maybe not as no one else in the car did. One or two days later, in the paper, was an article about the car and its dead occupants, two bullet riddled bodies. The speculation was they were the victims of the Boston mob and had been dumped there because it was remote. That incident remains my weirdest.

Today is dark, damp and chilly. Staying close to hearth and home is the best way to spend the day. Sunday is the day of rest, and I intend to comply. The dogs were late waking me up this morning. We all lasted until 10. The dogs are on the couch napping now, such is their lives. I have hidden the cat treats in the closet. If Nala gets them, she deserves them.

My finger is the best it has been since before the bite. The gauze fell off during the night but has been replaced with a nice fresh, white gauze. The finger is still ugly but less swollen. It hurts by the pins where the ache doesn’t disappear, but I figure those pins be gone next week when I see the surgeon.

When I moved to the cape, I was devastated. I was leaving my friends, my school and, most of all, my home, the place where I’d grown up, the place with all my memories. Most of my friends I’d known for the whole of my life. We had been together all the time, in school, and especially, at drill. I was headed to a place where I knew no one. I was going to public school for the first time in my life. I wasn’t excited. Actually, I hated it. I’d get back from school and toss my books. I’d stay in my bedroom. I went back home as many weekends as I could, but as the year went on, I went back less. I got involved with school clubs. I met all sort of new friends. I came out of my bedroom. I stopped throwing books.

When I was in Ghana, my family moved back to my home town, to a different house, not to mine. I had no connection to that house. I had no connection to that town any more. My friends and I had lost track of each other. After Peace Corps, I went home to the cape, and I have lived here since then, but I got lucky in my home town. I found my oldest friends, my oldest friends in time, not age, and we reconnected. We are still friends today many years later. It is as if there is no lost time between us. I am blessed.