The morning is humid, damp and dark. It rained earlier but not so much. A slight breeze stirs only the leaves at the ends of the branches. I’m tempted to put the screen in the front door but not yet the back door. That has to stay open for the dogs, and it still gets cold at night. Yesterday I went out for a time. Nala enjoyed herself. She surfed the baskets under the table and pulled out the strangest things like coasters, bottles and a couple of books. They were strewn all over. Not satisfied with one floor, Nala went upstairs to my bedroom. Luckily, the only things she found were grocery bags. They were in pieces all over the floor.

Last night wasn’t great for sleeping. The room was hot so I turned on the window air in my bedroom. Nala spread out and took my blankets with her. I got cold. Henry joined us, and I had no room. Usually they stay on their side, and I stay on mine, but not last night. Both sides were their sides. I had to fight for every inch.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, wasn’t allowed on furniture. At night he sneaked on the couch to sleep but was never there when we came down the stairs in the morning. He was too smart to get caught. When Duke was young, he jumped out the window in Reading Square. My father stopped the car in the middle of the road and gave chase. Duke was caught. The other Duke story I remember was when we were visiting my aunt the nun. Duke was left in the car. He got bored. When we got back, strings of ceiling material hung down in front of the windows. Duke had chewed all along the from window to window. My father went crazy. I don’t remember what happened next. I think I erased it from my memory.

I don’t think my mother ever worried when we were gone all day. We’d pack our own lunches and take off for the whole day. Sometimes we walked. Other times we rode our bikes. We rode to East Boston once. That was the furthest we ever went. My mother was not happy, an understatement. I think the ride along the Revere highway scared her the most. We weren’t scared at all. There were sidewalks and lots of lights. We rode passed the dinosaur statue at the miniature golf course, the dog track, the tankers lined up at the oil terminal and the giant holy lady statue on the hill. We had taken that route more times than I can remember on the way to our grandparents’ house. It was as familiar as the streets in our town. My brother and I thought it was an adventure.

It is a cool morning at 69˚ but another lovely day. Rain is predicted, but I have trouble believing the weatherman given the beauty of the morning. My to-do list for today includes the dump now that I have my sticker. I can hardly wait.

My father took charge of the barrels on trash day when I was a kid. I remember him dressed for work in his top coat and fedora dragging the barrels out of the cellar. He’d drag them back in when he got home, always late. He was never home for dinner. My father worked a long day. We never saw much of him during the week. On Saturdays I loved going with him to do errands. My favorite place was the Chinese laundry. It was in a small building on a corner in the square. The long broad iron was on the right in front of a window as you came inside. I remember the steam rising from it when the laundryman ironed. There was a big counter as you walked in with shelves behind it which held cleaned shirts and stuff wrapped in brown paper. My father always had his shirts cleaned. He wore only white shirts to work.

When I was young, we had hot dogs and hamburgers off the grill for Saturday suppers in the summer. We had corn. My father ate his corn typewriter fashion. I was mesmerized. When we were older, my mother expanded the menu. She had sausages, Italian and Chinese, steak tips and chicken. I was partial to the chicken and the Chinese sausages. My father manned the hibachi. They never had a big grill by choice. He’d sit outside have a drink or two and watch the meat. My father was the consummate grill master. My mother made all the sides. She made a great potato salad, and I loved her peppers and onions.

Nala is a chewer and a digger. The other day when I got home I found a chewed pen and some chewed trash she had pulled from the bag. She dug a hole beside the driveway deep enough to hide a body.

Last night around 12:30 I started to clear the den. I went through some boxes, threw all sorts of stuff away and filled a trash bag, just what I needed, another trash bag. The den looks neater. I did the test, the walk in, to see how it looked. I did that about three times moving stuff each time. Finally, I sat down for a bit. It was around 1:30. I hate this compulsion to clean. I think I need an exorcist.

Last night got downright cold. I shut the windows downstairs but left the ones in my bedroom open. That was a mistake. The dogs hogged all the covers. I burrowed as far as I could but was still a bit chilly. This morning, when I went out to get the papers, I was surprised how warm it feels outside. It is 75˚, the high for the day. Tonight will get down to the 50’s. I could go out today or not. I haven’t yet decided.

Yesterday I cleaned a bit. Downstairs got vacuumed. I cleaned all the bark and pieces of branches Nala brought inside for chewing purposes. One branch was about 2 or 3 feet long. She dragged it through the dog door. The kitchen floor is all muddy paw prints. I’ll clean that today. Upstairs I vacuumed and cleaned the cats’ room and the bathroom. The bathroom toilet seat had cat hair on it I suspect from Jack’s drinking at the toilet, his indoor fountain. The bathroom floor had small clumps of cat hair. The bathroom is pristine for now.

When I was a kid, I was never afraid of spiders or bugs. I didn’t believe the darning needle bugs would really sew my lips together. I thought girls who screamed at bugs were silly. I could understand being afraid of a swarm of killer bees attacking but not much else. I did get stung by a bee once, but that didn’t scar me for life. In Ghana I was wary but not afraid. Centipedes were the longest bugs I had ever seen. Flies were plentiful. I remember watching a wide swath of ants travel across the school compound. Those ants were better left alone. Snakes never scared me when I was a kid. I had seen garter snakes in the garden and knew they were harmless. We used to pick them up and sometimes keep them a while. In Ghana I saw boas. They were scary. The one I remember the most ate a live chicken. When I was teaching one time, a few students coming back from the latrine starting pelting stones at the ground beside the classroom block steps. They were killing a poisonous snake. Life was seldom dull in Ghana.

The rain on the roof was the first sound I heard. It was early. Nala jumped off the bed, and I went downstairs to let her out. She didn’t go out into the rain. Henry did. I waited to let him in, left the door open and went back to bed. We all slept another hour.

The rain has stopped. The day is dark and damp. No breeze ruffles the leaves. Everything is still in the heavy air.

A rainy Saturday would never have stopped me when I was a kid. Saturdays were not to be wasted. I used to love to ride my bike as fast as I could through the puddles. The water parted and a tidal wave flew out from each side of my bike. I used to lift my feet off the pedals so my sneakers wouldn’t get wet. I never bypassed a good puddle.

My allowance was fifty cents. My father expected me to save it. He was wrong. Fifty cents was wealth to me. I could shop at Woolworth’s. I loved that store in the square. It was an old building with wooden floors. I remember the toys were in the aisle on the left. I could buy a balsa wood plane for around ten cents. I learned to be careful sliding the pieces as they split easily. The tail was red plastic. My planes dipped and fell when I tossed them in the air. Their landings were seldom soft.

I remember cereal submarines. They were grey plastic, and when filled with baking powder, they dove and surfaced. The tub was the perfect spot to let the sub go. I’d lean on the side of the tub and watch until the baking powder dissolved, and the sub had to be reloaded. We used to open cereals boxes on the bottoms so we could get the prizes. We used to fight over whose turn it was for the toy.

The milk left after I ate all my cereal was sweet. It had cereal crumbs, bits of Rice Krispies floating on the top. I always drank the milk straight from the bowl. Sometimes I was messy, and the milk spilled under my chin.

I heard the gobbles of turkeys this morning. They were close. They were the only bird sounds. I saw the male cardinal fly right by me. The female is usually close, but I didn’t see her. They like the sunflower seeds.

Today I clean upstairs. I noticed cat hair on the toilet seat. I guessed Jack was getting drinks. I know Gwen likes to lie on the cool tile floor. The upstairs is their domain.

Yesterday was a banner day. The heat and humidity disappeared, and it was chilly. I even closed windows. I got my dump sticker and had my car inspected. I even bought a few groceries. I felt accomplished.

The morning is lovely. The sun is shining and glinting through the oak leaves. The temperature is only 65˚. The high will be 68˚. The house is cold even though the windows are shut. The dogs were in the yard so long I went to check. They were chasing each other. When they saw me on the deck, they ran to me jumping. Henry was smiling. He has a nice smile.

When I was a kid, I loved riding my bike to school. I used to raise my arms in the air going down the hill where I lived. The bike rack at school was under trees. It was wooden and painted green. My bike didn’t have a lock, but it had a license plate from the police who registered our bikes and gave us the plates. The licenses were green and were long so they could fit on the back fenders. They even had Stoneham, my town, in white down the sides of the plates. They looked official.

My town had two golf courses. I used to ride my bike to both of them to hunt for errant golf balls. Sometimes I’d find some by the road and even across the street from the course. I’d put them in my bike basket, and they’d jump out at the bumps. I’d get off to get them and wish my basket had a cover.

My town library was built with money from Andrew Carnegie. I remember reading about it on a plaque in the foyer between the inside and outside doors. I only noticed it because it was raining, and I was keeping watch by the door for my father to come and get me. I was surprised.

The square used to have a spa. My aunt would sometimes take me there on Sunday after church. The inside was mostly wooden. It had a soda fountain and tall booths. I remember a sign on the wall for a lime rickey. I had never heard of a lime rickey. I hadn’t even ever seen a lime. My aunt met her friends there. I always felt a bit grown up among them as the Spa wasn’t a kid my age place. I remember it used to be near the movie theater, maybe even beside the door to the bowling alley.

O’Grady’s diner was just below the square. It is one of the places I miss the most. I remember going there with my father. He would give me a dime for the jukebox. Sometimes we sat on stools while other times in a booth. Every time we went my father met somebody he knew, townies. When I was in high school, my friends and I would sometimes go there after drill. We’d get a brownie, ice cream and fudge sauce.

When I was in Russia, at every museum we had to wear foot covers, like the ones police wear at crime scenes. I figured we were really cleaning floors. With two dogs running up and down the hall, there are clumps of fur. I clean them every time I go to the kitchen. I’m thinking of buying a few foot covers to hand to my guests and directing them to through the hall. I figure foot covers are a bit less conspicuous than a vacuum or a broom.

Nala woke me up about 6:30. I let her and Henry out and went to join them. I turned around immediately. It was actually cold. It is warmer now, 72˚, the high for the day. The bright sun is framed in a cloudy sky. Tonight will get down to the 50’s. I may have to wear a sweatshirt again.

I am still grossed out. Last night I found what I thought was a scab in my hair. I pulled it out. It was a tick, a tick!! I scratched again and found another one. I smashed them both. The smash was far more satisfying than tossing them into the toilet. I always check both dogs. They have had no ticks. I have had three, the most I can ever remember.

The dogs are driving me crazy. They play with each other on my bed, on the couch, in the hall and even in the bathroom. They are now on the couch beside me, both of them playing with mouths open. Their heads are wet.

Nala loves the dog door. She goes in and out several times a day. I know Henry could come in if he chose. He pushes the dog door with his nose so I know he is ready to come inside. I have tried ignoring him. He just keeps whacking the door. I get up and open it.

When I was a kid, buses stopped in the square usually in front of the movie theater. I used to take a bus to the skating rink along the Fells. It was fancy compared to my other skating spots, the swamp and Recreation Park. I remember the bus stop at the hospital in front of an old stone house with a porch. Student nurses lived there. Sometimes one or two would be waiting for the bus. They wore white uniforms and square hats. Other times I took the bus to Sullivan Square. I remember the big staircase. We used to go upstairs to board the subway trains. The buses were on the lower level as was a kiosk which sold newspapers, magazines and candy. I remember standing on the platform watching a train arrive. My mother kept telling me to move back from the track. I kept trying to watch the train’s arrival. It came into the station with a whoosh and a breeze. To go inside, I always jumped over the small gap between the train and the platform. Once inside, I knelt on the seat to look out the window. I loved seeing the city. It was the start of my love affair with Boston.

My air conditioner is blasting even though it is cooler outside than yesterday. I was hot when I woke up and figured I’d chill the house for a bit. The day is pretty with a strong breeze and lots of sun. The dogs were chasing each other in the yard, and both came inside with tongues hanging. They are lolling in the AC.

Yesterday I cleaned my living room, everything in my living room. On the bookcase, long neglected, was enough dust for me to write a short story in it. I polished and washed everything I could. The problem is now I have to do the rest of the house because the living room looks so good.

My hall has bits of bark on the floor. Nala brings in branches, albeit small ones but she gnaws each trophy and spits out the bark. On the floor are several toys which used to be in the toy box. Nala likes the squeaks of the rubber toys. Henry prefers soft toys. They share.

When I was a kid, I was seldom inside in the summer. I especially went out when it rained. I loved getting wet in the softness of a summer rain. I’d stomp on the puddles in the gutters and watch the water spray out on each side. My sneakers would get soaked and bubbles would surface through the canvas when I walked. I never bothered to change. My clothes dried in the sun.

Sometimes, if the rain falls straight down, I sit on the deck under the umbrella. Rain surrounds me. I hear the drops hitting the leaves and the deck being pelted. Over my head, the rain makes a tapping noise on the umbrella and drips down the circle. I sit where I stay dry.

In Ghana, my house and the classroom blocks had tin roofs. When the rain came in torrents, I couldn’t be heard by my students. The lesson had to be taught using the chalkboard. The tin roofs made the rain sound tremendous, dramatic. Since then, I have always wanted a tin roof.

My hall is empty. The basket of laundry is only a memory. I finally bit the bullet and washed it yesterday. I didn’t realize how long it had been until I found my Christmas pajamas and socks on the bottom. It took two trips to carry it back upstairs.

When I was a kid, we didn’t even have a fan. My mother used to pull all the shades down to keep the house cool. I remember the living room was dark all summer. Upstairs, the bedrooms were hot, but I never had a problem falling asleep. I was usually exhausted from playing or bike riding all day.

Today is a bit cooler than it has been, 81˚. A breeze is coming from the window behind me keeping the den cool. Yesterday I lived in a closed house with the AC blasting.

I have no reason to be out and about today. My plans include a bit of cleaning, mostly upstairs, a bit of reading and maybe a disaster movie or two. The one I am watching now is just awful. It is called 40 Days and 40 Nights, with the title giving away the whole plot. The movie opened in the Sahara which wasn’t the Sahara. A jeep, a red jeep, was doing wheelies. There was underbrush but very little sand. The two couples in the jeep saw the storm coming over the mountains, yup mountains, and decided to do more wheelies in the same spot and in the exact same way. I guess the director didn’t think we’d notice. All of a sudden a flood came over the mountains and the jeep went under, no more wheelies. The plot is Biblical.

Every night I move the cat’s gate to my doorway to keep Nala inside with me. She had been going downstairs while I was asleep and using the dining room floor as her port-a-potty. It worked except for Henry. He won’t come inside my room. He suspects something. In his roaming, Henry realized my bedroom was inaccessible but the cats’ dishes were fair game with no gate for protection. The last two mornings the cats’ bowls were clean. I thought of a couple of solutions but discarded them. I can’t force Henry inside my room. That would scare him. I could entice him with food but he’d take the biscuit and run. My best solution is to put the cats’s dishes on one of the beds until I buy another gate.

I went out with the dogs this morning. They chased each other a little bit until Nala grabbed the tiniest branch which had a couple of oak leaves. She ran with the branch in her mouth as proudly as she could be. Nala had caught something.

The morning is bright, filled with sun. The air is still, and today is Sunday quiet. I can already feel the heat. It will be in the low 80’s today. I’m thinking it might be a day for the air conditioner, but I’ll wait a bit as this room is still dark and cool. Nala has taken to the window behind me. Last night she was lying on the couch top looking out hoping too see anything. There was nothing to see. The rental is empty.

When I was a kid, Sunday was often beach day. My mother packed the lunch, the blanket and the towels. My father packed the car. We’d drive to Gloucester, to Wingaersheek Beach, the only beach I remember. If I close my eyes, I can still see it all. There were rocks to climb. Giant houses faced the beach. I always thought it would be neat to wake up beside the water. Most of the time we didn’t swim until low tide when the pools were warm. I used to walk the beach for shells to save. We had to wash off the sand before we could take them into the car. It was the same with our feet. We usually stayed the whole day. I don’t remember most rides home. I usually fell asleep.

We used to go to the pool. It was on the opposite side of town, a long walk from my house. The pool cost a dime. The changing room had benches, a couple of showers and those metal baskets for our clothes. The basket key was on a twisted plastic sort of bracelet to put around our wrists. I used to dive from the board, nothing fancy just a regular dive. I’d lean over on the board with my arms straight in front and dive in. One time I went deep and hit the bottom of the pool. My teeth jammed into my lips which bled. There were even teeth marks. I went to the lifeguard who right away tried to stop the bleeding. My lip had already started to swell. The lifeguard called my mother and then drove me home. I don’t remember diving again for a long time.

My sisters ran into the sprinkler, one of those old metal ones which spun. I think my father had the same sprinkler for years. Usually it was set on the side of the house as running room was essential. The front had a small grassy hill, slippery when wet. My sister broke her leg riding her tricycle down that hill.

I have no plans to go out today. I think I’ll vacuum. I always need to vacuum.

The morning is glorious. I first work up at 5:15 and went downstairs to open the door for the dogs. It was the best of Cape Cod early mornings and gave hint of the lovely day to come. The air was still night cool. The fog was just below the tops of the pine trees. The sky was still a bit cloudy. It was quiet except for the birds greeting the day. The dogs ran in the yard a bit then came inside. The three of us went back to sleep.

Last night Nala started to go down the stairs then I heard what I thought was her falling. It wasn’t. Running up the stairs was poor Jack being chased by Nala. I stopped Nala. Jack escaped. Nala went to the hole in the gate and looked through. Jack was sitting there defiant, just staring. Nala cried.

Today will be hot, 75˚. In Boston it is already 83˚and will hit 90˚. I’m glad I live here.

When I was a kid, I believed in UFO’s, Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster not to forget the man with the hook. That they had never been seen made no never mind. They were good at hiding. The man with the hook appeared only at night. He scratched cars and windows before attacking. I know that was true. My father told me.

Summer nights have always been my favorites. I used to sit on the back steps and enjoy the coolness of the evenings. My house was on the corner of the street. It was a duplex. The backyard was at the bottom of a grassy hill. My house was one corner of a square, a right angle. There were two houses on the left and two houses on the right. There were three above the grassy hill. I remember the lights on at every house. Through screen doors I could hear muted voices and televisions. I was usually the only one still outside. I liked it that way. The night belonged to me.

When I was in Ghana, I went to Accra, the capital, just about every school vacation. I went out to restaurants, saw movies, shopped at High Street where the Hausa traders were and roamed the city. I was never afraid to walk at night usually back to the Peace Corps hostel. I chose to save the 20 pesewas of a cab ride. The streets were mostly quiet. The shops were shuttered. Men sat together outside talking. I never knew what they said. It was usually in Twi, the local tribal language. I did know how to say good evening in Twi, and I always did. Sometimes I was first while other times the men were. I loved those evenings.

My evenings are still quiet. I still savor the night.