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.

I heard the rain hitting the windows when I woke up. It was raining heavily, but I rolled up my pant legs to keep them dry and braved the rain to get the paper. Sunday needs to start with coffee and the paper.

The rain has just stopped, but I can hear the drops falling from the trees as if it were still raining. The day is ugly, dark, almost foreboding. I can imagine Renfield in Dracula’s carriage on his way to the Count’s castle. The only things missing are the sound effects of the howling wolves.

Today will be in the high 50’s but it will get cold tonight, in the high 30’s. I will probably go to the dump then get home and stay warm and cozy.

When I was a kid, I gave no thought to the future, the big future. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I made up answers when my aunt the nun, on one of our annual visits to her in Connecticut, always asked me. That was about the only communication she and I had. I think I mostly told her a teacher or maybe a nurse though I never wanted to be a nurse.

I have started my Christmas shopping, quite late for me. A few of the gifts came from one of my favorite local shops. They were the first. The other day I ordered all the Christmas books for my grands. They get a new one every year. That tradition started with their parents getting books. Also, in keeping with a long time tradition, I ordered new ornaments for everyone. I still need to order the toothbrushes, stocking standards. They are expected.

Nala has stopped taking things out. Now she brings them in. Yesterday she brought in pine branches, needles and chewed pine cones. I keep picking up pieces of sticks in the hall and on the rugs. The worst was last night. A sharp pain in my leg woke me up. I reached down to rub it when the other leg got a sharp pain. I reached down under the covers and under the pant leg to rub the painful spots. I got another pain. That’s when I found a small pine branch and a larger pine branch sticking me (pun there!). Nala had brought them to my bed where she chewed them and then left them. She isn’t big on clean up.

The rain has started again.

Last night the storm was terrific. The rain pelted the windows and the wind roared, the old freight train roar. I watched out the window for a while then went to bed. The dogs and I slept soundly. This morning dawned cloudy, but about 11 the sun broke through, and the wind disappeared. My deck and front yard were cleared of leaves yesterday, a wasted effort as both are again covered in red and browned oak leaves. I keep saying I’ll close the deck. It’s like my looking at the clothes basket in the hall and saying I’ll do the laundry which I don’t.

When I was a kid, I didn’t ever mind being by myself on my excursions. I’d ride my bike all over. I’d stop and watch the trains or hunt for golf balls across the street from the course. I’d stop at the town barn and check out the horses. Beside the town hall I’d sit on a bench and eat my lunch. It was always a bologna sandwich with yellow mustard and some cookies, Oreos if any were left or it was the Saturday after my mother food shopped. In my house, Oreos disappeared so only the quick of hand got any. My excursions usually ended in the late afternoon.

Even now I don’t mind traveling by myself. I do like a companion but not having one doesn’t stop me. I think the only difference is my nights end early. My first trip alone was to Ghana, but that was easy. I was going home. I wandered around Accra, found some great places to eat and met a few new people at the 50th Anniversary of Peace Corps Ghana at the swearing in of new volunteers. I ate local food, my kelewele and jollof rice as often as I could. I rented a car and driver and travelled north to Bolga. That’s where I figured I’d find former students, but they found me. It was a trip filled with joy that salved my longing, my forty years of longing for Ghana.

I went back to Ghana the next year.

My solo trip after that was to Morocco. I stayed in a riad, an old house converted for guests. I wandered all over Marrakech with a guidebook for directions. I was busy every day. For dinner I mostly ate in the square where every night they set up tables around grills. I never ate in the same place twice. I rented a car and driver and went into the mountains. I rode in a horse and carriage around the city. I even took a cooking lesson. I shopped in medinas and haggled. That was one of my favorite ever trips.

This is from an earlier post. I don’t think I can do better.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918, World War I ended. This day became known as “Armistice Day.” In 1921, an unknown World War I American soldier was buried in Arlington National Cemetery. Similarly, unknown soldiers had been buried in England at Westminster Abbey and at France at the Arc de Triomphe. All of these memorials took place on November 11th to commemorate the end of the “war to end all wars.”

In 1926, Congress resolved to officially call November 11th Armistice Day. Then in 1938, the day was named a national holiday. Soon afterwords war broke out in Europe and World War II began.

Soon after the end of World War II, a veteran of that war named Raymond Weeks organized “National Veterans Day” with a parade and festivities to honor all veterans. He chose to hold this on Armistice Day. Thus began annual observances of a day to honor all veterans not just the end of World War I. In 1954, Congress officially passed and President Eisenhower signed a bill proclaiming November 11 as Veteran’s Day. Due to his part in the creation of this national holiday, Raymond Weeks received the Presidential Citizens Medal from President Reagan in November 1982.

In 1968, Congress changed the national commemoration of Veterans Day to the fourth Monday in October. However, the significance of November 11 was such that the changed date never really got established. In 1978, Congress returned the observance of Veterans Day to its traditional date.

On Memorial Day, 1958, two unidentified soldiers were interred at Arlington National Cemetery having died in World War II and the Korean War. In 1984, an unknown soldier who died in the Vietnam War was placed next to the others; however, this last soldier was later exhumed, and he was identified as Air Force 1st Lieutenant Michael Joseph Blassie. His body was removed.

The unknown soldiers are symbolic of all Americans who gave their lives in all wars. To honor them, an Army honor guard keeps day and night vigil.

National ceremonies commemorating Veterans Day occur each year at the the memorial amphitheater built around the Tomb of the Unknowns. At 11 AM on November 11, a color guard representing all military services executes “Present Arms” at the tomb. Then the presidential wreath is laid upon the tomb. Finally, the bugler plays taps.

Each Veterans Day should be a time when Americans stop and remember the brave men and women who have risked their lives for the United States of America. As Dwight Eisenhower said, “…it is well for us to pause, to acknowledge our debt to those who paid so large a share of freedom’s price. As we stand here in grateful remembrance of the veterans’ contributions we renew our conviction of individual responsibility to live in ways that support the eternal truths upon which our Nation is founded, and from which flows all its strength and all its greatness.”