The morning is lovely. A wonderful breeze cools the warm air. It is 77°, just about today’s high. I’ll be on the deck should you need me!

The two days off were crazy. I was exhausted. First, I removed the dead 100 light strand from the fence to replace it. In some places I had to stand on my tiptoes to get at the lights. The strand got entangled a few times so I had to stop to untangle. When I finally got all the lights down, I brought them inside to check. They lit. I cursed. Come to find out it was the timer. I went outside and strung the lights again, on my tiptoes. Sweat rolled down my cheeks. It wasn’t pretty. I strung the new set at the other end of the deck. I next planted flowers in the pot in the front and watered all the pots on the deck rail. I hauled chairs out of the cellar. I swept dirt off the deck. I collapsed.

Yesterday I had company for lunch. I spent the early morning preparing the food. We had a charcuterie board. When I was finished, I thought it looked like a work of art. Later, I realized I had forgotten to add the meat, three kinds of meat. Lunch was feta shrimp linguini. It was scrumptious, little was left. Dessert was coconut ice cream with caramel sauce. My company was one of the sailing families I follow on YouTube. Even though we’d just met, it was as if we had known other for years. We told stories about our travels. We laughed. We got to know each other. We became friends.

Every summer when I was in college, I worked in the post office in Hyannis. I sorted mail. I sat on an uncomfortable slanted stool so I could sort of sit and still reach the cubbyholes. I worked on what were called boards. I worked on Massachusetts, Illinois and Ohio, and the Boston stations, cities and towns around Boston. It was an easy job but a boring job. Sometimes I’d work the automatic postmark machine. Letters went through one at a time while postcards went through in bunches. I’d sort the bunches. If I found a postcard with no address, I’d address it to friends. There were a lot of those. There were also a lot of confused friends.

My dance card is filled this week. I have no free days. Mostly I have uke shows and practices. Friday, though, is play night. I’m going to need naps!!

The house is cool in the morning. It keeps the night air. Outside is already getting hot. The high today will be 78°. That’s deck weather.

I have decided to take a hiatus of just a couple of days. I have a list, a long list. Most of it is for outside. The deck and yard need tending. I have to fill all of Nala’s holes as I know I’ll end up tripping into one and probably breaking an ankle. Such is my fate. I have new lights to replace the ones chewed by the spawn. The deck is covered in acorns. I walked out barefoot and stepped on a few. I could wear shoes and leave then there, but I can’t. I’m thinking of the dogs, especially Nala who chews on the acorns. Those chores are just the highlights of my list.

Enjoy the next couple of days. I’ll be back on Tuesday!!

The early morning was chilly, but the air is getting warmer. The high will be in the low 70’s, almost winter weather compared with the scorching highs of last week. The sky is partly sunny. I can see blue toward the west. The trees are quiet in the still air.

I have a couple of errands today, mostly Agway errands. The gate keeping Nala out of Jack’s room was pushed inward by Miss Nala who then sneaked inside and stole all the cat treats and everything in the bowls, twice. Foolishly, I thought I had secured the gate after the first theft. I was wrong. I forgot I was dealing with Nala, stealthy Nala. She made off with her bounty, I didn’t even know until I went on the deck and saw the yard littered with pet food papers. Nala was running around with a big bag of Temptations. I knew not to chase her and just waited. Finally, seeing my disinterest, she dropped the bag and I saved what was left. Later I grabbed my prisoner stick and cleaned the yard.

I liked school. I loved to learn. It never really bothered me when school started. By then, I had filled the summer.

When I was a kid, clothes didn’t really matter. I wore shorts, a blouse and sneakers all summer. I just grabbed what was in my bureau drawers. I never gave matching a thought until I was older. Comfort was the overriding reason for my choices. I have come full circle. Comfort again rules my choice of clothing, but at least now the colors match.

My mother would have been 95 today. She was my first thought when I woke up. I still miss her and sometimes forget she is gone when I think to call her about something or another. Then I remember, and the sadness comes.

The day is ugly. The sky is filled with clouds. Showers are predicted.

Yesterday it rained for a few hours. I sat under the deck umbrella staying dry and watching the rain. I was delighted. After the rain, the day was quite cool but horribly humid. This morning, everything is still wet, and it spat rain for a while, an intermittent windshield wiper rain. I went out for coffee, and it was 66° then. It felt chilly. Hurrah! for chilly.

This morning, a couple of my mother’s sayings jumped out of my memory drawers. I was thinking of her because tomorrow would have been her 95th birthday. Anyway, if she caught any of us picking our noses she would ask, “Are you mining for gold?” If you whined and felt the world was against you, she would describe you as a sorrowful mystery, a bit of rosary trivia. That one is still used in my family though I suspect its religious origin might be hazy. It was from my mother is what we mostly remember.

My dance card is empty until Monday’s concert, songs of the 70’s. After that we have only one more Monday concert in the park. The summer is winding down at a quick pace. I almost feel the urge to buy school clothes.

My first grade teacher was Sister Redempta. She scared the heck out of me. If you did something wrong, she’d run down the aisle, her habit blowing behind her and let you have it. She’d yell right to your face. I remember kids crying after her onslaught.

My favorite teacher in elementary school was my sixth grade teacher Miss Quilter. I remember she wore thick glasses and appropriately modest dresses. She woke in me a love of learning. I will always be grateful to her.

I’m still binging on black and white movies from the 50’s. I’m now watching Attack of the Crab Monsters. It is wonderfully bad. The crab has eyes which don’t move, and it appears to be on a track as it has only forward mobility. The Professor is one of the actors. He is a radio operator. The only woman wears sweaters, as tight as the 50’s will allow, and what looks like capri pants. She makes all the meals, but she did scuba dive looking for the crab and followed the men into the cave on a rescue mission which failed. She ran fast out of that cave. The weirdest thing is the crab talks in the voices of its victims. At the end, the Professor sacrificed himself to kill the crab. Only one man and the woman in the sweater survived. I love this movie.

The morning is dark and damp. You can feel the moisture in the air. The temperature is in the low 70’s. Today’s weather report says rain, but I am skeptical about the forecast. We don’t get rain. We get menacing clouds.

When I was a kid, rain in the summer mostly halted outside fun. The park and the pool were closed. I could ride my bike but only if the rain wasn’t heavy. Spitting rain was fine. I’d get wet but not drenched. Sometimes I rode to the library. I’d sit at the wooden tables and browse books. I’d stay a while. If we had a summer storm, I’d stay home, sequester myself in my bedroom and read. I always had books.

Yesterday I planted the flowers I had bought to replace the ones stolen from their pots, and I added two smaller pots filled with lavender. As I was planting the second pot, I heard a noise in the yard. I looked down off the deck and saw Nala playing with the flowers I had just potted. I had finally caught the thief in action. I’m going to try to keep her out of the pots. I have some wire which I’ll twist into a cover for the flowers and hope it works, but she is quite adept at thievery.

I have been watching my favorite science fictions movies, the black and white ones from the 50’s. Now it is The Giant Behemoth, a redundant title or maybe one just for emphasis. The beast is plying English waters. It burns victims with radiation and reduces them to ashes. Of course it does.

Today is dump day. I am reminded of my father who loved going to the dump. In the old days the dumps were tall heaps of trash with screeching seagulls circling. When I was home for the weekend from college, my father always invited me to go with him or he invited my friends who had come down for the weekend. I told them it was a privilege to be asked so they always went with him. My father loved it.

I am alive and somewhat well. The last couple of days had me imagining I was crawling across the sands of the Sahara, my clothes frayed and my arm outstretched in supplication hoping for water. On Saturday, I bought the rest of the plants needed to replace the ones stolen by the plant marauder, Nala. No one from Agway was outside in the plant area. They were the smart people. I wandered around the aisles pushing my cart and looking for lavender and three annuals. I got dizzy from the heat and went inside for a while. After I had finished, I drove home and collapsed in the AC.

On Saturday night I didn’t asleep a wink. I’d turn out the light and hope for the best, but wishin’ and hopin’ didn’t work so I’d turn the light back on and read some more until I tried again. The dogs slept through it all and looked a bit annoyed at the light going on and off. Finally, at 5:30, I gave up the ghost and went down stairs. I was glad I did. The morning was lovely and even felt coolish. I stayed outside and read the paper, coffee in hand. I didn’t write Coffee because my brain refused to cooperator. My world was hazy from the heat and words escaped me.

Yesterday too was hellish. I went to the concert which started at 5:30. Our seats were in the sun. It was back to the Sahara but with a soundtrack. I did wear a hat which prevented drops of sweat from rolling down my cheeks while the visor kept the sun at bay so I could read my music. Regardless, it was awful. My hair got soaked, and I was the poster child for an un-lady-like appearance, Victorian age appearance. I imagined a fan and someone to fan me. We played for over an hour after which I ran to the car and turned up the AC as high as it could go. I was a mess.

Last night I turned out the light at 12:30 and slept until nearly 10:30 which brings me to now. The house is wonderfully cool. Outside is 89° but with the humidity it feels like 101° according to My Google. The welcomed breeze from the south is strong. Everything is blowing. The leaves are jumping round. The branches are swaying propelled by those leaves. I’m thinking of sitting under the umbrella and planting the pots of flowers I bought but that just might be a crazy idea born from hyperthermia.

Okay, I just wrote 400 and 52 words, complaining words about the heat. Next thing you know I’ll be asking people, “Is it hot enough for you?” I have become cliché.

The AC is on high with the outside temperature already in the high 80’s, and when you add the humidity, the low 90’s. We are under a heat emergency while north of us has an official heat wave. I have a list for today, my first list in a while. It is a long one with more than a couple of stops. The dump is on the list, but I’m moving that to tomorrow as that’s when my cleaning lady comes. Laundry is not on the list. I have no dirty laundry. I’ll repeat that last one: I have no dirty laundry, literally or proverbially.

We didn’t have air conditioning or even fans when I was a kid. My mother kept the house almost as dark as a cave. All the shades were down to keep out the heat. I remember being restless in bed on hot nights. I remember throwing off my sheet and being impatient for the Sandman and the dreams he’d bring. But finally, the bike riding, the games at the park, the walking to the pool or the zoo caught up with me and I’d fall asleep.

In Ghana, during the dry season, every day was close to or over a hundred. I didn’t have a fan then either. I’d go about my day regardless of the heat. I’d teach my T2 classes, the second years, every day. Often, when my work day was over, I’d even take a nap. Everything in town shut down for a couple of hours each day. Later in the afternoon, I’d sometimes go to town. I’d walk but not very far. Someone always stopped to give me a ride. They knew the white lady walking down the road was a teacher at the training college. It worked the same way for my walk home. I was one of few whites in town and the only one at my school until my second year when Bill and Peg joined me so most people knew who I was. They aways greeted me as madame. Every night I took my cold shower. I hurried doing my hair as the first water out of the pipe had been warmed by the sun. I rinsed with the cold. During the dry season I never toweled dry. I’d put on my robe while I was still wet, hurry inside and go to sleep as the air dried me. That always worked.

This morning I had a late start then I just took my time with my coffee and newspaper. The dogs are sleeping after their run in the yard in the heat of a beastly morning. It is already 88° with heavy humidity, and the weather won’t get much better all day. The only saving grace is a breeze, a strong breeze, almost a wind at times. The sun comes and goes but mostly comes. My house is cool, but I do need to get out and do a few things or maybe not. I have, of late, been prone to staying in the house. I could start house chores like doing the dreaded laundry, only a single load this time, or washing the kitchen floor covered in dog prints, but I admit I am essentially a sloth.

When I was a kid, Saturdays, in the summer, were unplanned because my father did his weekend chores. He’d bring his shirts, aways white shirts, uptown to the Chinese laundry and pick up last week’s shirts, cleaned and starched. He’d mow the lawn and put out the sprinkler on the side yard, the part of the yard with the most grass. Sometimes we’d go to the drive-in on Saturday nights, always dressed in our pajamas. The first movie, when most kids were still awake, was a family movie. The second movie was for adults, not an adult film, but a film adults would enjoy. I always stayed awake.

When I worked, the weekends always had the same pattern. Saturday was my play day. Sunday was for chores like changing my bed, doing the laundry and going to the dump. On Sunday evenings I’d correct papers and prepare lessons.

My friends and I used to go to the Dennis Drive-In which no longer exists. Other than the entry road, it was circled by trees. We knew the mosquitos were relentless so we slathered our arms and legs with insect repellent. We brought a picnic basket packed with dinner. It was high end movie food: crackers and cheese, a couple of dips, maybe a sandwich or two, chips, candy and mixed drinks in a thermos. Sometimes we sat outside the car to watch the movie. That drive-in was small, almost cozy, and was my favorite drive-in of all time. Even now, when I pass by where it used to be, I’m struck with nostalgia, with a longing of how it used to be.

The heat has me staying inside wearing socks to warm my feet, a small price to pay for a cold house. The temperature is 85° already but with the humidity it feels far warmer. The breeze is strong but does little to cool the air. The sky is cloudy but no rain is predicted.

I have an item on my dance card, a play tonight at the Cape Playhouse, An American in Paris. I haven’t seen this play before as it has never been staged at the Playhouse, but I have seen the movie and even know some of the songs. I’ll go from a cold house to a cold car to a cold theater. Such is summer life.

When I was a kid, we sort of all dressed the same in the summer. We wore shorts, sneakers and a blouse, sometimes a sleeveless blouse. My sneakers were aways white with pointed toes though by the end of the summer they were a bit dirty and well-worn. The younger I was the less I cared about keeping my sneakers white.

When I was in high school, I hung around most of the time. I’d sit inside or outside and read during the day. At night, I had drill practice twice a week and competitions on the weekends. On other nights, we’d sometimes play miniature golf, go to a drive-in or even bowl. I was a horrible bowler. Many balls made their way down the gutters, nowhere near the pins. My score was always an embarrassment. Being a good bowler is not an inherited trait. My mother bowled in a league. She was a good bowler.

My friend and I used to camp in the backyard. We’d lay a tarp on the ground, bring out pillows and spend the whole night outside. I loved to lie on my back and look at the stars which covered the sky. The nights were so bright with star-light there were shadows around us. I remember the long, skinny shadows of the trees and how one side of the house was a giant shadow on the ground. The front of the house and the sidewalk were lit by streetlights. In the road were the circles of light from the street light cutting through the darkness. The nights were alive with the sounds of insects, night birds and barking dogs. I was never afraid. I slept soundly the whole night.

Today will be hot, in the high 80’s. I am already behind closed doors with the AC cranking. The dogs are sprawled on the couch having their morning naps. Outside my window, the day, despite the heat, looks inviting with a blue sky and a bit of a breeze. My dance card is empty today, but I do need dog food. I’m thinking delivery.

When I was a kid, the future was tomorrow, but I did have dreams for when I was older. I knew I’d travel. That was a given after I had seen the first pictures in my geography book. I saw crops growing, snow covered mountains and houses, none of which resembled at all where I lived. I didn’t know anyone who had the same dreams I did. Travel meant New Hampshire or Maine or even as far as Vermont. We did make it to Canada and the falls. In my head, I started the list of countries I had visited, but that list didn’t get any longer than Canada for years, but I still dreamed of where I’d go.

For my college graduation my parents gave me a trip to Europe, one of those nine hundred countries in three days sort of trip. I was going to go with college friends. I didn’t; instead, I was going to Africa. My mother and I shopped from a list sent to us by Peace Corps. I was limited to eighty pounds of luggage. We bought enough underwear to outfit a chorus line. We bought dresses for a warm climate. One of them was purple, and I’m wearing it in several pictures. I also had skirts and short-sleeved tops. We bought sandals, leather sandals which didn’t do all that well in the heat of Ghana. The soles went first. We bought necessities like deodorant. We found a brand supposedly good for days with just an underarm swipe. It gave me boils which were really painful. I couldn’t raise my arm high enough to write on the chalkboard. The boils finally disappeared as did the deodorant. I tossed it. Some of the stuff we bought were found in Ghana like toothpaste, soap and tooth brushes.

My entire wardrobe after a time was made with Ghanaian cloth and sewn by a neighbor, a seamstress. I packed the purple dress away. It didn’t fit anymore, too big. It was the same with the other clothes I had brought, especially the underwear which got too big and wouldn’t stay up. I didn’t buy new underwear. It seemed a waste of money. I used a thin string belt to keep embarrassment away.

After Ghana, I still traveled. One summer I went from Venezuela to Rio. The trip took the whole summer. I saw my geography book come to life.

The list in my head of countries I have visited is a long one now with Canada still at the top. The order is chronological. Ghana is second on that list.