Today is another dark, damp day. It rained yesterday on and off. I think it also rained early this morning as the sides of the roads are still wet. My larder is full. The dump is closed today. I have no need to go out. I have no need to get dressed. I do have a few household chores keeping me from a total sloth day. The basket needs emptying, and the kitchen floor is a disgusting mess of muddy paw prints. I may clean just the worst of them, between the back door and the hall, in case it rains. I think they need boots, but I doubt either dog would agree. Henry would recoil, and Nala would steal them and hide them in the backyard.

When I was a kid, by the time mid-August came, I was ready to be back in school. I had played every game, ridden my bike all over town, read a bunch of books, swam at the pool and eaten hot dogs just about every Saturday night. All the school shopping was done. I had new shoes, a new blue skirt and a couple of new white blouses, my uniform, a new school bag, a lunch box with a thermos and a pencil box. I loved pencil boxes. Mine had a few pencils, of course, a small pencil sharpener which left shavings all over, a protractor, a six inch ruler, a pink eraser and a few colored pencils. It slid open and closed. The covers were colored pictures. I have an old pencil box with a red school house and cherub blonde children, but I had never cared so much about the cover. It was the inside which mattered. I used to sit on my bed sliding my box open and closed and admiring the newness of everything. I never used anything inside my pencil box until after school had begun.

In my downstairs bathroom, there is an open, really old wooden chalk board. On the flat board are crayons, an old, small metal globe from a bank, empty Scripto ink bottles, an old fountain pen, the sort you dip, a school bell with Ding Dong School around the wooden bottom and a few small advertising rulers probably given away in the stores. On the floor, under the board, are old games and a few Miss Francis’ Ding Dong School art supplies including some paper. The game Go to the Head of the Class is also there. It is the same board we used when I was a kid. School pictures of classes are on the wall. A small flatish desk holds hand towels and more school knickknacks. I have no idea what prompted the themed bathroom, especially a school theme. The rest of my house is pretty eclectic. No one ever mentions the bathroom decor. The only comments about the bathroom are things like you need more toilet paper or where can I find a clean towel.

It’s nap time in my house for all four pets. The dogs are down here with me, and the cats are upstairs in their room. I’m the only one awake.

When I was lying in bed, I could hear the rain. I turned over and went back to sleep. When I woke up and looked out the window, it was sunny. Did I imagine the rain? Am I losing my mind? Well, as far as I know, I am sane and well grounded. Everything is wet so it did rain. I did hear it. Whew!

Nala is not happy at being thwarted. She is now pulling folded boxes from the recycle bag as there is nothing on the counter to grab and eat. When I went out on the deck this morning, I picked up more cardboard, slivers and small pieces of a box which once held cat food. The yard too has paper and cardboard. I’m nervous she’ll figure out how to open cabinets. I swear she watches me.

I have a couple of errands for later, and I need to go to Hyannis. It being cloudy and damp is a bad sign for finding parking spots in Hyannis. Tourists flock to Main Streets when it rains. I’ll have to brace myself to sitting for a few light cycles. I don’t do patience well when it comes to traffic.

When I was a kid, I made a scrapbook of my travels. All of it was imaginary. I used folders from the airport and cut out pictures of airports and planes, my transportation to exotic locations. My scrapbook had pictures of mountains and monuments in far off countries, like the snow on the Andes and the statue of Christ in Rio. I knew I’d be going there someday. I had no doubt.

On my first trip to Europe, I carried a backpack and a rolled up sleeping bag. All my packed clothes were also rolled, all the better to stave off wrinkles. On my first night in Helsinki, we slept in the woods. I used my sleeping bag for the first and only time. After that, we stayed in university housing, hostels and B&B’s. We ate at train stations, cheap and quick foods. We ate at happy hours, buying one drink and eating a meal’s worth of food. I budgeted so well I came home with money. How silly!

Traveling is so much easier now. I use a suitcase with plenty of room for gifts and souvenirs, and I pack an empty carry on, a canvas bag usually. Mostly I stay in small, not very expensive, hotels. I don’t carry much money and no travelers checks. In the old days checks were all I carried. Now I just hit the ATM’s for cash. I have been known for hitting the ATM twice in one day. The machine and I are familiars.

Today will be cloudy. Rain is predicted for tomorrow so today’s weather is just a dress rehearsal. It is already hot, in the mid 80’s. I turned on the air conditioner and will let it run until the house is cool enough for open doors and windows. The odor of skunk is mild. After I pat Henry’s head, I sniff my hand. He is clean. Last night he slept on my bed, and my room has no eau d’skunk. I do get a slight whiff when I come in from outside.

I did a yard clean-up yesterday while I was checking the back 40 to try to find out how a skunk got into my fenced backyard. I found no entry, no holes below the fence, and we can eliminate flying so I’m stymied. Anyway, while I was in the yard, I picked up the trash strew all over from Nala stealing stuff. It was paper mostly, a paper plate, an empty chip bag and a folded box from the recycle bin in pieces all over the deck. I saw Nala steal that one. She did so quietly unaware I was watching. She got it into her mouth, no small task, and trotted out to the kitchen, to the dog door and then to the deck where she chewed the box into tiny pieces. I picked up every one of them. The yard and deck are clean for now.

When I was a kid, we had metal trash barrels kept in the back. They had to be hauled to the sidewalk on trash day. My father did the honors, but he expected the empty barrels to be returned to the yard before he got home. Sometimes they were but mostly they weren’t. My father would moan and carp and accuse us of laziness, a horrible but true accusation. Back then, in the 50’s, my father had stereotypical views of the world, of the rightful places of men and women. Men and boys had their own responsibilities as did women and girls. In keeping with that, my brother was the go to trash guy. I applauded that choice. My father made him move the barrels.

A couple of times, when we went on vacation, my grandparents had to dog sit Duke. They weren’t happy. Neither one of them was a dog person, and Duke was not easy. They’d let him out, and he’d take off and walk the couple of miles back to our house, our empty house. My grandfather, alerted by the neighbors, had to drive and get him. Duke would not get into the car. He was a stubborn boy, our Duke. Our next door neighbor usually loaded Duke into the car. This happened a few times so Duke had to be leashed and walked. Poor Duke.

My conversation with Alexa has me wanting a drink. I noticed a green ring of Alexa light so I asked her about my notification. I had one new notification. An author whose books I have bought has a new book. Did I want it. No I said. No what is what Alexa asked. I told her not to put the book on my wish list. Her reply, “I have put this book on your wish list.” I told her to remove it. She asked what. I said the book on my wish list. She said I have no wish list. I asked about a list. You have no lists. I screamed.

Henry had a first experience last night. He came running in the dog door, and I was amazed he actually used the dog door and didn’t signal me to come open the door then I noticed. Henry was frantic. He was shaking his head back and forth and had foam covering his mouth. I tried and couldn’t catch him. I grabbed a wet paper towel, and I finally grabbed Henry and cleaned his eyes and mouth. Henry had met his first skunk. I grabbed my Nature’s Miracle skunk odor remover and washed Henry’s face. He didn’t move the whole time. After a couple of rinses, I had a headache and had gagged a couple of times, but old Henry smelled like himself; however my house smelled like skunk. I turned off the AC, opened windows, took something for my headache then went upstairs to bed. Henry hadn’t gotten upstairs in his skunky state so my bedroom was fine for sleeping. This morning I went on the deck and then came back inside to check the smell. The house still has a faint whiff of skunk. Thanks, Henry, for sharing the experience.

When I was a kid, I remember watching my first skunk waddle across the grass. I also remember not getting close enough to trigger the defensive blast of skunk. Back then tomato juice was the suggested go to for skunk stench removal. It doesn’t work, but it does sell a lot of tomato juice. I keep Nature’s Miracle on hand and have since Shauna, my first boxer, got skunked in the face. After a few rinses of the stuff, Shauna smelled just like Shauna and not Pepe Le Pew.

The afternoon is already hot at 85˚, the predicted high. The clouds will stay all day while the sun will be back and forth. Henry and Nala are having their first naps of the day. Henry is in the kitchen while Nala is beside me on the couch. The poor dogs are exhausted from playing up and down the hall, from chasing each other. I need a nap.

This morning I had toast and coffee. I shared both. Most times coffee is enough, but I was hungry and too lazy to cook eggs so toast was perfect. I do like eggs in almost every form. If cooking for myself, I usually fry or scramble the eggs.

In Ghana, most things were fried in peanut, aka groundnut oil, readily available in the market, and that included my morning eggs. They were delicious and nicely browned around the edges. In the hotels, you always get breakfast as part of the room rate. Each hotel offered a variation of breakfast, but all of them included coffee, fried eggs and toast. Sometimes there was porridge or fruit, mostly bananas and oranges. In my two years living there and on all three visits, I had the same breakfast every morning and liked it. I even got used to that awful coffee, instant with condensed milk. I kept telling myself it is coffee after all.

Today is already hot at 80˚, the high for the day. The breeze is ever so slight and only once in a while. I can feel the house getting warmer. This room, my den, is in the back of the house and is the last room the sun hits, but usually, by then, I’ve already cranked the AC.

The den is still dark. The TV is playing in the background. I don’t pay any attention. I just like the sounds of voices. Sometimes I go with foreign language films. I never read the subtitles.

I have no plans for today. Earlier, I did notice a few hair piles along the baseboards so I’ll walk around carrying my little portable vac, instant gratification with only the turn of a switch. The kitchen floor is back to being dog paw prints. “It’s déjà vu all over again,” (maybe Yogi, maybe not). I just washed it a couple of days ago, but I’ll do it again today when everything dries from all the rain we had and after I’ve overcome my innate wish to do nothing.

I like roller coasters. They make me yell from excitement, not fear. I barely breathe when the cars slowly click up that first big hill because I know what’s coming on the other side. I would never ride a roller coaster in the dark. I’d be lost, disoriented, after that first hill. The yells would be surprise but mostly fear.

When I was a kid, I was never afraid of much. Bugs didn’t bother me, and I knew spiders did good work. Snakes were interesting, and I learned to pick them up at the back of their heads or what passes for a head, behind their eyes. I loved watching the darting dragonflies and the grasshoppers jumping in front of me when I walked.

It was my father’s stories which put me on night alert for any sounds. I’d lean my ear toward the sound and give it all my attention. Mostly I’d recognize the sounds of bugs and night birds, but once in a while I’d hear underbrush and know something bigger, maybe a raccoon, was wandering near my yard. Footsteps scared me, especially when no one was talking, just walking. I’d always look from the window but sort of hide behind the side curtain. Many movies later, I’d realize it was never safe behind a curtain.

The rain started around two yesterday afternoon. It got heavy just when Fed Ex delivered two boxes I had to haul into the house. My shirt got really wet, but the boxes were mostly dry.

The rain just stopped. It was heaviest when it was blowing from the south. When I opened the door to let Henry inside, I was amazed at how warm it is, pleasantly warm with a kind breeze. Thunder storms are predicted for later.

My kitchen floor is a roadmap of wet paw prints. I have to close my eyes when I go into the kitchen or the messy floor would drive me crazy. The day is dark enough to need lights, but they make the rooms feel cozy and me contented. The dogs were roughhousing up and down the hall and onto the couch. They do play growls as they try to eat each other’s heads. Henry wins all the time. His jaw is bigger. Nala jumps on Henry for the win. I yell at them and tell them to go outside. Mostly they don’t.

When I was a kid, I loved rainy afternoons. I’d be wet, even soaked, after walking home from school in the rain. My mother would hang up my school clothes to dry. I’d put my shoes near the radiator and change into my pajamas. I had the comfiest pajamas. They had cuffs around the wrists and ankles keeping out the cold. The material was jersey. I’d get cozy in bed, turn on the light over my headboard and read. I was never without a book. I went to the library all the time, and I often spent my 50¢ allowance on books the library didn’t have, my girl detective books. I’d go downstairs for dinner and probably watch TV before bed. I don’t remember the programs I watched. I do remember many of them were westerns. I am not a fan of westerns.

My favorite rain is summer rain. When I was a kid, we stayed outside in the summer rain. I remember splashing the stream running below the curb. I remember my hair dripping and I remember me laughing. I don’t get wet on purpose anymore, but I do sometimes sit outside in the rain under my deck umbrella. I love being surrounded by rain but not getting wet. I leave some windows open so I can hear the rain.

My being posted to Ghana was serendipitous. The big reasons are many, but there are smaller reasons which, when mounted high, become big reasons, things to be appreciated. Rain was the biggest of these. During the rainy season it rained almost every day. The rain pounded the ground as if making up for the lost time in the dry season. Sometimes the rain was slanted. It was also at times heavy, times when shelter was best. Other times, the rain was a slight inconvenience, and I shopped in the market anyway.

Where I lived was mostly savannah grassland. In the dry season everything was brown, all the roads were dusty and the fields were empty. But once the rain started, the whole world woke up. Farms were planted mostly with millet. I watched the tiny plants grow to tall grasses with the millet on top. Roads stopped blowing dust everywhere. The market seemed cleaner from the rain. If the rain was heavy, I sometimes went shopping anyway. I got great buys from the aunties selling very little because of the rain. It never took long for me to dry. I even think my dress steamed when the hot sun hit it. Okay, maybe not.

Pardon my verbiage today!

Today is cloudy and a bit hot at 78˚, the high for the day. Tomorrow it will be rainy so I guess today is a sort of dress rehearsal with humidity and clouds, but no rain. I did the dump run yesterday. The dump was so crowded I had to ride around twice to get a spot at the recycle bins. My trunk was filled with heavy, spent litter bags. They had to be dragged then hefted and thrown over the sides of the green, metal bin. Sometimes, almost involuntarily, I grunted at the weight of the bags as I threw them. It wasn’t pretty.

Today will be less exciting than yesterday. I have uke practice tonight for an hour. That’s it, my only commitment to the day, my only reason to have to get dressed. Today would have been a perfect sloth day, a day dedicated to wearing cozies, to doing no work and to lazing the day away.

I remember weather days like this when I was a kid, totally cloudy days. The playground was open at nine but not in the rain so because we spent day at the playground doing crafts, playing games like checkers and softball, our mantra, actually our nursery rhyme, for the day was rain, rain, go away, which now, in hindsight, sort of makes no sense. It wasn’t raining, but anyway, on a cloudy day we hoped for just clouds, a reprieve from the sun.

Whenever we went to the beach, my face got sunburned over the tan. I had to wear a tee shirt so my back and shoulders wouldn’t get burnt. My mother always packed tee shirts, and by afternoon, we were all wearing tee shirts. My mother had reached the sun limit. I didn’t mind.

I went out on the deck to retrieve something Nala had stolen from the kitchen. It was a paper towel which Nala didn’t seem to like. It was left mostly intact. I looked over the bannister and saw a paper plate which must have been with paper towel. It had been flattened. I remembered I had pizza on that plate and had left it on the counter in case I wanted another piece of pizza. I don’t remember it going missing. I must have moved on to something else.

Last night the two dogs were driving me crazy. They were chasing each other around the house from room to room, and they’d stop on the couch to eat each other’s faces low growling all the time, all in fun. I kept throwing them off the couch, and they kept coming back. Finally, I used the magic word, dinner. They both stopped, looked attentive and ran to the kitchen. All of a sudden, I had a memory flash. I remembered our magic word was supper, and we pretty much had the same reaction to our word. That’s sort of interesting in an odd sort of way.

The morning is warmer than it has been. It is already 76˚, but not so far from the predicted high of 77˚. It is cloudy and will be cloudy on and off all day. The slight breeze is cooling on my back. The dogs are playing with new toys and each other. Usually they are napping by now. My plans for the day include a dump run later in the afternoon. My car is filled with trash bags, many of them filled with cat litter. Tonight is Magic Music Monday with the uke club. The theme is Get Together.

Yesterday my cousin Mitch and his wife Kelly came to visit Nala. They gave her to me to love when they knew that Nala would continue to attack their older and bigger boxer, Kyrie. They feared for Nala. Kelly brought toys and treats for both dogs. Nala was excited to see them. Henry was amazing. After his initial hesitancy, he let both of them pat him and scratch his back. Henry has come a long way. They thought Nala had grown and looked wonderful.

When I was a kid, I seldom wore a watch. It is the same now. I have watches, all needing batteries, in my bureau drawer. I only wear one when I’m traveling. My favorite is the one my mother gave me on my 50th birthday. It has a red leather strap and the watch is silver. I have another, the traditional gold watch though mine is green befitting the school colors, from the school district when I retired. The others were bought along the way.

I don’t need a watch. I make sure I’m where I need to be on time, actually a bit early. I hate to be late. I had a friend who was always late, even to my house for dinner. I used to give her an earlier time, a lie, as to when she was expected to be here. She was still late. I started serving dinner without her. She was put out. I had no sympathy.

When I was a kid, I wore socks all winter. Some had holes. I didn’t care, but my mother did so I made sure I wore socks with holes you couldn’t see. The older socks had no elastic left, and they bunched at my ankles which reminded me of my grandmother. Her hose was always bunched around her slippers. Sometimes my socks slid into my shoes. That was like walking on rocks. I’d stop and pull up my socks a few times on the way to school. I still have socks with holes. Sometimes I don’t even hide the holes. I don’t care if anyone sees them. I am becoming or maybe have become an eccentric old lady.

Today is another wonderfully beautiful summer day. The morning air is clear. The sun is a bit diffused. There are clouds, but they are just part of the background of the day. The temperature will be in the high 70’s. The low will be a lovely 68˚. A strong breeze ruffles the leaves and bends the top branches of the pines. Today is a day to be enjoyed.

Today begins August. It wasn’t my favorite month but it was. I guess that’s a contradiction of sorts needing explaining. Well, August meant closer to back to school, the end of my summer, but August also meant my birthday, the best day ever. It all makes sense.

When I was a kid, I wasn’t ever thrilled with Sundays. I had to go to mass and stay around for dinner. On some Sunday afternoons we went to visit my grandparents in East Boston. I was always bored unless I explored. The thousands of cousins, who were also dragged to my grandparents, were more my sisters’ ages. I was the oldest grandchild. I lived in a smallish town so I was in awe of the city and found it intriguing. Corner stores were everywhere. People sold slush out of their windows. Bakeries had pizza, square pizza which I still love. I remember the truck with the merry go round stopping on the streets so kids could buy rides. The horses were small. There were four or five of them spinning in a tight circle. I was too old to ride, but I was okay with no horseback riding. I had the city to explore.

When I started traveling, I loved roaming the cities. I had favorites. London topped the list, but we are, of course, excluding Accra, my favorite of all. I have been to London more times than I can remember. Sometimes I stayed in a B&B, mostly when I was young. Later I’d stay in hotels, nice but inexpensive hotels. We stayed at the President a few times. It was in Russell Square around the corner from the subway, the tube. I remember breakfast included the traditional tomato and sort of rubbery bacon. I used to call room service for coke and ice. The oldest delivery lady always came to my room hauling the tray. She wore a full apron with a bib. I always gave her a big tip. I felt bad.

In South America, Quito, old Quito, is my favorite city. We stayed in a hotel around the corner from the plaza. Women wearing shawls and hats toted bundles of stuff, usually covered bundles to make them easier to carry but difficult to identify. I roamed the narrow streets. I stopped to visit churches and museums. I shopped in a couple of stores. I sat on the plaza steps for a while to watch the world go by me. I ate on the run. Quito was my hub for exploring. I went in a bus to the equator. There was a shack of sorts and a line on the ground separating the two hemispheres. I stood straddling the line so I was in both hemispheres. The shack sold souvenirs and post cards. I bought a few post cards, wrote them out and paid to have them sent from the equator so the postmark was 00°00’00. That was really neat. Another day I went to a market a distance from the city. It was unbelievable. The market had everything from animals to prepared foods, clothes, cloth, household goods and so much more. I bought a few things, easy to carry things. One was a small basket and the other a hat, a beautiful red sort of cowboy hat I still have which is old enough now to be an antique. Inside the hat it says Industria Equatoriana and La Paloma de Tubac. I wore that hat rather than pack and probably squash it. I must have been an interesting sight to behold.

Today is another delight. The sun is bright. There is no humidity and a slight breeze keeps the day cool. It is only 69˚ right now and won’t get any higher than 74˚. The low for the tonight will be 59˚. I will definitely have to find a blanket. Last night was chilly. I think the dogs huddled against me hoping to keep themselves warm. They woke up early so, consequently, did I. Now, keep in mind, early is a relative term. For me it was 9:45, but it was 3:30 when I went to bed. I just wasn’t tired until then.

I did a bit of cleaning yesterday. All of downstairs got vacuumed, and the den got polished and cleaned. Today I will wash the kitchen and hall floors. The kitchen is tile while the floor is wood. From the den to the back door is always the route the dogs take and is always where I find muddy paw prints and lot of balls of fur.

The dogs are having their morning naps. I almost want to keep jostling them awake in a weird sort of quid pro quo, but I’ll take the high road. I may also take a nap today, my Saturday nap just to distinguish it from my other naps, but it has been a while since I’ve napped.

When I was a kid, I would loved today’s weather. It calls for a long bike ride. I would have packed a lunch, and my mother, knowing I’d be gone most of the day, would usually would give me a nickel for a drink or a candy bar. I opted for the candy bar. Choking down my lunch was worth it. Besides, I knew where every bubbler in town was. My lunch was always bologna, from the roll you had to cut into slices, on white bread which is all my mother ever bought. I added cookies, usually Oreos which I could find in the full larder as my mother grocery shopped on Fridays. I’d throw my brown bag lunch into the bike basket and take off for most of the day. Most times I was by myself. I never minded but rather liked it as I could take a break when I wanted and could bike any route in town.

Now, what did I buy with my nickel? A corner store not so far away from where I lived always had Milky Way and Three Musketeers bars in the freezer section. I usually bought the Milky Way. I remember it broke off in chunks when I bit it. The chunks took a while to chew. That was the best part of a frozen Milky Way: how long it took to eat. I would’ve paid even a dime for such a delicacy, for such a treasure.