Keep the Coffee Comimg

Today is a delight. The sun is in all its glory framed by a blue sky with a few puffy clouds. Today is flannel shirt weather at 41˚. I went out on the deck with the dogs, did a little trash clean-up and watched Nala run the yard with a bone in her mouth. Both dogs have been in and out all morning.

Last night I spent quite a while with Jack. I had my iPad and tapped that with one hand while I scratched and patted Jack with the other. After quite a while of non-stop pats, I think Jack got bored. He decided to lie down on the other end of the bed. I then cleaned the litter box and left Jack asleep. He was purring the whole time.

Yesterday I went to the dump. My trunk was so filled with trash I had trouble closing it. The backseat was filled with boxes, newspaper and cans.

I am watching the worst movie, Battle of Los Angeles. Aliens have attacked the city for the second time since 1942, their first assault. I haven’t seen an alien, but I have seen their small fighter ships taken down by hand guns belonging to seven soldiers, the entire cast aside from the dead soldiers, all killed in dramatic fashion. The heroine with a katana sword jumped off a building, landed on the scout ship and thrust the sword through the top, thus disabling the ship which subsequently blew up. She is from a secret defense group with underground headquarters. I do not know a single actor. I did recognize a stolen line from Independents Day, ” I got to get me one of those.”

When I was a kid, I loved science fiction books and black and white science fiction movies and serials on TV like Buck Rogers and Gene Autry’s The Phantom Empire from 1938. I watched every episode on Saturday mornings. I always figured there were aliens and some lived among us. I’m thinking of a neighbor who used to live down the street.

Today did not have an auspicious beginning. I slid out of bed. The topper had moved beyond the mattress. When I was helpless on the floor, both dogs came after me for their morning pats and scratches. I was a bit overwhelmed by their attention and couldn’t get off the floor. I was stuck. It took me a little while to pull myself up off the floor with two dogs licking me while I struggled. When I got up, the dogs were disappointed. Meanwhile, Jack was meowing for attention. He got it.

The rain started yesterday and continued into the morning. My clean floor disappeared under the onslaught of wet paws. The prints go from the kitchen door all the way down the hall. I’ll wait until the rain stops to clean.

It was early for me, 8:30, when I went to get the paper. I was amazed at the warmth despite the rain. It is 41˚though the day will get colder as it passes. I don’t care. I am staying home today. I have no errands or appointments. The dump is closed on Tuesday so that will wait until tomorrow.

I feared I was being gaslighted. Crooked pictures are one of my bugaboos, and I found many about the house yesterday. After giving some thought to it and disregarding ghosts, I realized my cleaning lady was the culprit. When she dusted the frame rims, the pictures got crooked, and that’s where they stayed until I went through the house straightening them all. I also went about the house returning objects to their original spots on tables and such. When Maria dusts them, she just puts them down anywhere on the table. I figure at least they’re dusted.

When I was a kid, the living room was where we spend the most time. That’s where the TV was, that giant cabinet with a tiny screen. The couch was on the longest wall. My father always read his paper while sitting on the comfy chair near the picture window. I usually sat on the floor to watch TV. I thought it was the best seat in the house even though I was flirting with going blind.

Yesterday two real person came to visit for bit. I think I chatted non-stop. I gave a play by play of life on the inside. She too lives mostly inside, but we’re both okay. We have our books which keep us content and wonderfully fill our time. My second visit was quick, a handoff of the most delightful gift. My neighbor brought me the most amazing chocolate cake. I swear it weighted pounds with all the frosting and the layers. It quenched my hunger for chocolate.

I love my neighbors. I get messages from my neighbor across the street offering comfort and any help I might need. The chocolate cake neighbor also shoveled me out last week. I don’t see people often but I don’t feel alone. I have folks who give me happiness with their words and their mighty gifts.

Today is warm at 43˚. It’s raining, making for another ugly day. I mind the cold rain, but the dogs don’t. Both of them have been in and out. Both dogs come back inside wet. They are the first dogs I’ve had who willingly go out into the rain. The others needed to be encouraged.

My house is being cleaned. My only contributions are the check and moving out of the den so it can be cleaned. I have had a cleaning lady seemingly forever. In Ghana, it was Thomas who cleaned. For many years it was Lee and Rosanna. I still miss them. I have a new cleaning lady, new in October, Maria. She speaks very little English. She mostly smiles and nods her head no matter what I say. An end of the world warning would get the same smile and nodding of the head. I could try my father’s way of communication to a non-English speaker. I’ll just talk louder and enunciate better.

This morning I was up early before the rain. When I went to get the paper, I could smell the morning. I love mornings. When I travel, I am up and out early. I walk the streets. I watch stores opening, trucks delivering and people heading to work. Those mornings have a haste, but I take my time. Mornings anywhere seem to have a far different feel, a far different smell than the rest of the day. The smell is of the trucks, of coffee brewing in open store fronts and of bread. I walk, drink and munch.

Mornings in Ghana smelled of wood fires from the compounds around my house. Every morning the students swept the school grounds. They chattered in a variety of tribal languages as they swept. I recognized Twi, the language of the Ashanti, and FraFra, the local language. My students always greeted me in English, “Good morning, madam.” The mornings were the coolest part of the day despite the season, wet or dry. In the dry season, during the harmattan, the mornings were cold. My students dressed in layers. I relished the cold and never added any layers for warmth. I never imagined I’d feel cold in Ghana, but it was only in the morning, my favorite part of the day.

The house feels different. When I go to the cats’ room and don’t see Gwen sitting on her rug waiting for me, I feel even greater sadness at losing her. Poor Jack stands on the stairs and meows for his sister. The dogs don’t notice so much. Gwen tended to stay in the cats’ room. She loved to drive Nala to distraction. Her rug was just out of Nala’s reach. It drove the dog crazy. Poor Nala cried and whined.

I brought Gwen’s comfy rugs downstairs to wash them. I put them in front of the cellar door so I’d remember to take them downstairs to the washer. One rug was missing this morning. I went into the yard and found it. It crossed my mind that Nala was being a bit vindictive. She must have recognized the rug.

This will be short. Words today are elusive. My biggest accomplishment so far is I put on clean cozies. I do have a car full of trash so maybe I ought to make the effort to go to the dump. Perhaps I should add a stop for a bit of chocolate.

Today is cold. It is 25˚. The low will be 19˚. We are most decidedly in the throes of winter. We had snow flurries starting last night around midnight and continuing intermittently into this morning. Right now a bit of blue is starting to come from behind the clouds and bringing the sun along, but it comes and goes. A wind has started blowing. It is not a day to be out and about, but I have no choice. I need some groceries.

Jack was especially vocal last night. He meowed from the top of the stairs for a while then went half-way down and meowed some more. I gave him lovings, and I brushed him. Jack enjoys being brushed. I feel bad for Jack as he is relegated to upstairs. Nala needs to learn that Jack is family and ought not to be chased. I think I’ll take a nap with him today.

My first load of laundry is in the washing machine. The basket was still in the hall where it had been for a week, okay maybe two weeks. It was overflowing as I kept adding laundry to the basket. I had hopes that the elves who took care of the shoemaker and his shoes would take pity, and I’d find clean, folded clothes in the morning. It didn’t happen.

This will be a short musing today. We are all trying to handle losing Gwen in our own ways. I find myself short tempered. It was strange this morning not greeting Gwen. The first thing in the morning is when I went into the cats’ room to feed them and to give Gwen her morning shot. This morning it was all Jack.

Before I posted my music for today, I went up for my afternoon visit to the cats. Gwen was lying on the floor and having trouble breathing. I put her right into the crate and called the vets. We immediately went over. Gwen passed away before we got to the vets. I heard her. I knew. When I got to the vets, I opened the crate to give her some lovings and to say goodbye. I brought her inside. They came to tell me what I already knew. The vets thought it was her heart by the symptoms. I’m having her paw print saved. I thought I’d put it on my aunt’s grave. She loved her babies.

The rain is heavy and loud. I heard it as soon as I woke up. The dogs balked about going out into the rain. Nala poked her head out the dog door then she backed into the house. Henry ran out, his need greater than his dislike of the rain. When I went to get the paper, I was pummeled by the rain. I put up my hood. It did little good.

Despite the rain, I need to go out to pick up a few essentials like cat food, cream for my coffee and something to sweeten my day. I’m thinking anything chocolate. I was going to the dump, but today is not a dump day. It is not even a going out day, but I haven’t any choice.

When I was a kid, a rainy day was the worst. I hated walking to school and getting wet. My shoes and socks got the wettest. They were usually soaked. I left footprints when I walked in my socks.

In Ghana, during the dry season, we used to joke about the weather, the same weather we got every day, hot and dry. Many mornings, we’d look at the sky and say it looks like rain. We did it in all seriousness even though we were kidding. We knew, of course, that rain was months away.

The first rain storms after the dry season were spectacular. Small bushes were bent to the ground by the fierceness of the wind, a sign of the rain to come. The sky darkened for the first time in months. It really did look like rain. The drops came in waves. Lightning struck right in front of my house. The road through the school ended at the back gate, by my house. It was a dirt road. It only took one storm for the heavy rain to cause crevices through the dirt. The rain ran like a river through those crevices and turned the dirt to mud. The mud slid.

I loved having a whole season of rain. Unless it was torrential, it never stopped me. I walked to the classroom block. I walked through the market in the rain. In Bolga, being wet was short lived. After the rain, the sun came back, and it was hot. I dried in no time.

The morning is foggy, damp and cloudy. The only thing to commend it is the warmth of 42˚. I have already been out and back to an early morning dental appointment just to have my teeth cleaned, but they found something. I have a fractured tooth. I’m going back in a couple of weeks to have it filled. It seems parts of me are falling apart, a piece at a time. It happens to old cars and now it’s happening to me.

When I was kid, we never went to the dentist unless there was a problem, but I did start with an orthodontist when I was seven. His office was on Comm Ave. in Boston. On appointment day, my mother had to find a babysitter for my sisters. We walked uptown to take the bus to Sullivan Square, and, from there, we took the T. We walked from the T station to the office. I have pictures in my head of the office, the room and the furniture. His waiting room was enormous and filled with oversized furniture like giant puffy chairs and sofas covered in flowers. One giant old wooden desk sat near the door. In my memory drawer the desk is as large as the Resolute desk in the Oval Office. The nurse was there to check me in for my appointment. My mother and I sat for a bit then I went into the office. Dr. Nice was oldish. He wore a white jacket with buttons on the top which opened a flap. On the old Dr. Casey TV show, the brooding Dr. Casey wore the same white top only he kept the buttons unbuttoned. Dr. Nice had white hair which stuck out in places. His office was at the front of the house. It had a bank of windows which kept my attention. I watched the cars. I don’t remember the appointments too well, just the windows and the chair in the center of the room and the going and coming. We took the T back then waited at Sullivan Square for the bus home. My mother usually bought me a treat from the station kiosk. We’d get to Stoneham Square where my mother would buy me lunch. The two of us then walked to school. She was my late note.

My house feels chilly even though the heat is cranking. I have forced hot air. When I was a kid, we had radiators and forced hot water. I loved the hissing of the steam and the gurgling of the radiator. One was in my room under a window near the foot of the bed. It was the sound I heard when I was falling asleep.

Today is drab. The sky is covered with grey white clouds. It is warm but only by comparison. The road is slushy in-between the ruts. The icicles on the roof are melting. Snow is falling off the branches of the trees in the backyard. It is an ugly winter’s day.

My plans for today are simple. I’m finally going to tackle that laundry. The basket in the hall is overflowing. I have just about run out of my cozies, an impending catastrophe needing to be averted, so laundry it is.

When I was a kid, my favorite pajamas were blue. They were made of jersey material and had cuffs. They always kept me warm. Every day, when I got home from school, I had to change into play clothes. In the winter, when we couldn’t go out to play, I’m get home and put on my cozies, my pajamas. That’s where my love of cozies began.

The Xfinity guy is coming with my new cable box, and my Agway order is ready for pick-up. Yesterday I had groceries delivered. My uke practice was on Zoom. Other than a hand-off from a delivery person, I don’t see people any more. I might as well be a hermit living alone in a cave in the desert and wearing an animal hair shirt for atonement.

My bedroom is a mess with storage boxes looking for a home, but my living room is back to normal for the most part. The only difference is my rug has been chewed in two places. As for the perpetrator, I figure you already know. It’s too easy a guess. I love that rug which I bought many years ago at the Topsfield Fair. It will be difficult to replace. I’m already in mourning.

Life is slow. I have a dentist appointment this week and my usual uke lesson, and that’s it. I’m expecting no visitors. The cable guy has come and gone. He replaced the old box. We chatted a bit. He is originally from England. His father has had Covid twice but is okay. He and I agreed that we do miss spending time with people, face to face, but I am content.

My street is quiet. Nobody goes by the house either in a car or walking. My dogs are the only live noises I hear. Henry barks. Nala whines. They go and in out the dog door at will, even Henry. Both dogs love the snow. Maybe we should be more like the dogs and romp and gambol in the snow. Maybe we should build a fort or have a snowball fight. Follow the dogs. The dogs know joy.

The sky is the deepest blue I think I have ever seen. It is stunning. The air is wonderfully clear. Everything is quiet, nothing is stirring. Even the smallest branches are stillheavy with snow. Icicles hang off my roof line. They break when I open the front door. It is cold, at 26˚, but warmer than it has been. The dogs are loving this weather. They chase each other around the yard. I don’t love it as much.

Skip is coming to clean up the front, uncover my mailbox and shovel the back stairs. He’ll put the cow away until next Christmas. I can handle the donkey. I’ll also have him take some of the trash from the car as his dump is open. I wish he did laundry.

I am going out today for a curbside pick-up of dog food and a few cans of cat food. I’ll order from Agway. Curbside is my second favorite right behind delivery. I don’t even have to get dressed.

When I was a kid, my mother grocery shopped on Fridays. She didn’t drive back then so my father had to take her. We loved it after she shopped. The larder was filled. There were cookies galore. We even had choices of cookies, at least for a couple of days. Oreos were a staple. Sometimes she’d buy chocolate chip cookies. I also remember Pecan Sandies. They were my mother’s favorite so she used to hide them from us. I remember Nilla Wafers. I always thought they were called Vanilla Wafers. It was a shock to find out otherwise. My mother also bought the week’s school lunch desserts which we were not allowed to touch upon pain of death.

School is out on the cape today. Many roads and sidewalks have not been plowed or have only been lightly plowed. Skip was out doing his big plow jobs yesterday. He said the snow was horrific. He got stuck a few times, and the snow was so heavy it was slow going moving it. Today he is doing the houses. I am third on his list.

My cable box is still not working. Xfinity called yesterday to see if it was still not working. I said yes and that it was stuck on the welcome page. The disembodied voice asked the same questions I’d already be asked and had already answered twice before. The man decided to restart it. What a surprise. He said it is working as we are on the welcome screen. I told him again that the box stays on that screen. I told three times. He tried to start it one more time: nothing but the welcome screen. He said he’d try again and call me today, but if I wanted, I could return the broken box and get another. Nope, I’m staying with that appointment. I also think I might just define insanity for him, about expecting different results.