Today is another pretty day, a pretty December day, chilly and a bit windy. Leaves cover my lawn and deck though each has been cleared once. When the dogs are out running through the backyard, I can hear crunching sounds from the dead leaves covering the ground. Those leaves are never cleared. The backyard belongs to the dogs.

When I was a kid, this was the in-between season when some days were too hot for a winter coat while other days were so cold it was winter ensemble time, time to dress in layers. My mother was cautious. She’d bring out the winter coats, hats and mittens, it being December after all. I never enjoyed the layers, the bundling. Even now I seldom wear my winter jacket.

My mother used to take us into Boston to see Santa, but once, when I was really young, he came to our apartment in South Boston. I was probably around three or four. I have a picture of me with Santa somewhere in the house, probably tucked away for safety. My brother, a year younger than I, was too afraid to leave the bedroom. I’m wearing a dress, my patent leather Mary Jane’ shoes’s and lacy socks. It was an occasion after all.

I seem to be busy every weekday. I go down cape to Orleans for PT twice a week and on Friday I went to Hyannis for a doctor’s appointment. Uke is twice a week, practice and a lesson. I skipped the practice last week. I have to pick and choose. When I did both, my finger swelled. Yesterday I practiced. My finger didn’t swell.

My house isn’t yet Christmas, but decorating is on my to-do list for this week. That means hauling up boxes. I like to change the decorations from year to year. I have so many. I’m leaning toward vintage this year. I have many plastic light up pieces like Santa, candles and a snowman. They are from the 50’s and are a bit of wonder pulled from my memory drawers.

Today is an ugly day. The sky is gray and threatening. The wind is strong. Even the topmost branches are being blown sideways. The brown dead leaves still holding on will probably fall and add to the backyard already covered in layers of leaves. Today will be the warmest day of the week, but I have no plans to go anywhere. Nothing about the weather is enticing despite the warmth. I’ll do around the house stuff.

Even before my finger injury I had trouble opening the Aleve bottles, the sort you squeeze on both sides and hold in while you turn the lid to open. This last time was the worst. I couldn’t get it open, couldn’t hold and turn at the same time. I tried and tried. Finally, I had a solution. I took a hammer to the squeeze spots.

Yesterday I went to a doctor’s appointment then to Trader Joe’s. I had a great time shopping and hauled home five filled shopping bags. Some of the items, mostly the festive candy and holiday treats, I’ll put away until Christmas. I bought the most amazing pork loin rubbed in herbs, sage, rosemary, and oregano, and wrapped in uncured applewood smoked bacon for a pre-Christmas dinner with friends. I also bought a gingerbread house to put together and then decorate. That last one I’ll have to put up high out of the reach of a boxer.

When I was a kid, we always had turkey for Christmas dinner. The sides were different than those on Thanksgiving except for the mashed potatoes and stuffing. Later, when we were older, we had a roast, usually a roast beef, and, yes, it was always accompanied by mashed potatoes and a changing menu of vegetables.

I only remember a couple of Christmas candies from when I was a kid. I remember the ribbon candy. It always struck in my molars, and I’d click my teeth together. It was a weird sensation. The ones I remember eating the most were the hard, colored candies which always stuck together. As a gift in school, we used to be given a small cardboard box the size of Animal Cracker boxes with a white string for carrying the box and Christmas decorations on the two sides. The hard candies inside were so cemented together the cardboard always stuck to the candy. I don’t remember caring. I remember eating the candy anyway.

The morning is lovely. The sun is eye squinting bright. The blue sky hasn’t a single cloud. It is Crayola blue, the same color of all my skies. The day is so calm not even a single leaf flutters. The dogs came in for their morning biscuits then went right back out. Dogs know how to enjoy a day.

The pile of packages in the corner of my bedroom gets higher every day. They are safe behind large boxes and a chair, but Nala keeps checking them out just in case. She did steal a Christmas Pez, but that was before I fortified the corner from attack.

About this time we used to make construction paper circles to put around the tree. We’d sit at the kitchen table cutting and pasting. My mother would wind them around the front of the tree. I remember when I first bought this house. I had very little money for Christmas decorations, but I did buy a small tree. I couldn’t imagine my house without a tree and the sweet aroma of pine. I decided to make some of my decorations, especially the colorful construction paper swag. I went old school with glue. I cut out the circles and attached one to the other. The swag was beautiful. I wound it mostly around the front of the tree. A few days later I heard a sort of popping sound. I went to check the tree. The circles were popping off the swag, so much for the glue tradition. I stapled them all. I used that swag for years until the colors faded. I replaced the swag with silver tinsel strands just like the ones my mother used to wind around our tree. I traded one childhood memory for another. I still use them on my tree. I also use glass ornaments my mother gave me which used to hang on our tree. The decorations on the bulbs have faded a bit, but that makes them no less precious. My mother and father are always part of my Christmas traditions.

Today is cold. I even wore my heavy sweater. I also wore my red Converse high tops, tis’ the season after all. I used to drive 10 miles a week. This week I have already gone 64. My dance card is never empty anymore. Gone are the sloth days. Every day has something I have to do. Yesterday was my uke lesson, number two uke event of the week. Today was PT, the second one this week. Tomorrow I get to add another doctor to the herd, a cardiologist surgeon. On Saturday I see my hand surgeon. On Sunday I rest.

I rode down 6A today. It was a lovely ride. Places are decorated for Christmas, and people are selling greenery at their small stands. My favorite sold greenery and duck eggs. I also stopped for a few groceries. When I got home, it only took 3 minutes for me to get cozy again. I’m in for the rest of the day.

I have chores I am ignoring. I’m just not in the mood. I keep thinking I’ll do them tomorrow. Scarlett O’Hara is my role model, “After all… tomorrow is another day.”

When I was a kid, Christmas never came fast enough. We drove my father crazy asking when we could get our tree. I remember how excited we all were when he brought it into the house. Furniture got moved so the tree could be in the corner. The sparse side of the tree went in the back. The decorations were brought into the living room. My father tried to untangle the lights. He worked until his patience was exhausted. Finally, the lights were wound around the tree. The ornaments went next. My mother put the big glass ornaments on the topmost branches. We put the rest on the tree. I remember a paper Coke Santa Claus with a loop for hanging we used to put in the middle were there was no greenery. We also put old Christmas in the middle. I remember some of them were from my Aunt Barbara. Silver tinsel was circled around the tree from top to bottom then came the icicles, always controversial. Toss or hang?

The weather is taking a turn. It is colder today, in the mid 40’s, and will get colder tonight, more seasonable. The sky is cloudy making for a dark day. The only saving grace is the still air, nothing is moving.

I have the usual chores I’m avoiding. Laundry tops the list. I avert my eyes when I walk by the almost full basket. Maybe tomorrow.

Today it seems my muse has deserted me. I keep starting a thread then stopping and deleting it when it goes nowhere. Being around the house so much means fewer adventures. When I go out, it is usually to the dump or the store and, of late, to physical therapy. I find it all a bit boring. I do have uke, the only bright spot in my week. Maybe I’ll just take a ride and meander a bit.

When I was a kid, we lived in a duplex almost to the top of a hill. That’s important. In the snow we sledded down that hill, and during the rest of the year, we’d ride our bikes to the bottom. Going back up was a different story. I remember holding the rope from the front of my sled and pulling it up the hill. The rope got heavy with ice, and my mittens got soaked. As for my bike, I could ride it only halfway up the hill for a long time then I’d walk it. I still remember the sense of triumph when I rode it all the way up to my house. I kept listening for applause.

It seems when I’m stuck I head back to Ghana. The memory of that hill brought me there today. My school was down a dirt road at the top of a hill. Between the school road and town there were mostly fields with a compound here and there. The hill was not steep, but it was long. I’d borrow a bike and ride down the hill to town. When my shopping was finished, I’d put the bag filled with fruit on the handlebar of the bike then I’d ride back up the hill as far as I could pedal. I’d end up walking the rest of the way.

As Bob Cratchit told Scrooge, “I am being my time.” I had PT this morning and in a sort time, Nala has a vet appointment. She needs a shot, a second shot of something, then I need to stop for dog food at Agway. Today is busy.

The early morning started out lovely and warm. Since then, the clouds have taken over, there is a wind, and it feels cold. It is now sweatshirt weather, just a few degrees warmer than winter coat weather. Oops, addendum: the sun is back as is the blue sky, but the wind is still with us. It is 52°.

We have begun uke practice for Christmas music. My new binder is full, and I have two other binders of songs we’re not using. I thought I knew all the Christmas songs but I hadn’t heard All I Want for Christmas is a Real Good Tan before this. I’d prefer wanting a hippopotamus, from an old song, to a tan. Our first Christmas concert is next week.

When I was in the fifth grade, I remember singing in the square. Back then, the square was filled with stores including a Woolworth’s and a Grant’s. Shoppers were everywhere. My classmates and I stood on a platform with our John Hancock book of carols in our hands. It had a church with stain glass windows and a sky filled with stars on the front. In fancy lettering it said, Christmas Carols. I remember singing my heart out and feeling so proud when the shoppers stopped to listen. I still have a copy of that book. I put it out every Christmas.

I can hear the chimes from my backyard. They have the sweetest sound. They are a gift from the wind.

I remember loving the walk to school on the windiest days. I’d hold my arms out and let the wind take me. My coat would billow like a sail. Sometimes my feet would move, but I’d get nowhere. The wind would hold me back. That’s when I laughed the most.

When I went to get the papers, I was surprised at the warmth. It is already 56° and is sunny though rain is predicted. On my to do list is a trip to the dump. I also need dog food and a few treats for Jack. This week will busy. I hate busy. I have two PT sessions and two uke events, practice and a lesson. How will I ever fit in a nap?

When I was a kid, Sunday was my least favorite day of the week. The whole day was scripted. It started with mass. I had to wear either a dress or a skirt and some sort of a hat. I remember a lace mantilla. I could keep it crumbled in my pocket and throw it on at the last minute. I usually drifted off into space at mass. Sometimes I’d read the book I smuggled in my pocket. I tried to look devout so I wouldn’t get caught.

The rest of the day, unless it was a Sunday visit to my grandparents day, was spent around the house. I’d read the comics or watch TV. I remember watching Lassie Come Home. It made me cry. Dinner was usually around two. It was the special dinner of the week. We always had roast of some sort. My favorite was a roast beef. My mother always made gravy. We had mashed potatoes and a couple of veggies. I don’t remember a specific dessert. I probably grabbed a few cookies and returned to the TV.

We were forced to bed early on Sundays because of school on Monday, one reason Mondays were the second least favorite day of the week.

In Ghana, Sundays were quiet days. They were also special dinner days. Bill and I would ride into town on our motos and go to the chop bars, small shacks serving food on the edges of the lorry park, and buy Ghanaian food. We usually bought fufu and soup. Fufu was made from yams, plantain or cassava. It was pounded in a pestle until it became a gelatinous ball. It was served surrounded by the soup. You ate with your right hand. Grab a bit of fufu then run it through the soup and try to get it into your mouth without drops of soup dripping off your hand. We got good at that. Usually we bought a light soup. The rest of the day was quiet. In the evening, we’d, Bill, Peg and I, play a few word games or endless games of Password, a Christmas gift from my parents one year. We used it so often we pretty much had every card memorized.

Day’s end came early. I’d read a bit in bed then turn out the light. Monday was a school day!

This morning the dogs let me sleep longer than usual. When I got downstairs, I took my time. The coffee was delicious. This month it is from Mexico. I yummed my way through 3 cups, one more than usual. I shared my banana with the dogs. I read the paper slowly so as not to miss any news. Many comic artists celebrated the 100th birthday of Charles Shultz in their strips. Charlie Brown and Snoopy prominently appear. Some comics had veiled references, and they were fun. Today is starting out to be a great day.

The worst time, when I was a kid, was when my bike went into hibernation in the cellar. It was often too cold to go riding. Going down my hill was the worst. The cold wind blew right up the sleeves of my jacket. It was the season of walking.

I remember when the thick Sears catalog arrived. We fought over whose turn it was to look through the book. I remember circling the pictures of toys I wanted for Christmas and putting my name next to the circles. I’d make a list. I’d write down what I wanted in my letter to Santa. I even added the item numbers in case he wanted to look.

I don’t remember exactly when we started decorating for Christmas. My guess is we nagged my mother as soon as the turkey became soup, the last vestige of Thanksgiving. The lights in the windows were first. They were always orange. The candelabra went in the middle, in the picture window. Cardboard decorations like Santa and a Christmas tree were taped to the windows. I remember white stencils on the picture window. I remember Santa. The tree wouldn’t be put up for a couple of weeks. That was what we most anticipated.

My father put up the outside lights after he’d spend a long time untangling them and cursing when he did. The bulbs were huge and got really hot. They were colored lights. Back then, nobody had just white lights. He’d cover the bushes in front of the house. The cord from the lights went through an opened, slightly opened, window and were plugged into a house outlet. It was always cold near that window.

When my father was finished, I’d run outside to see the lights. I was always awed.

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.