Keep the Coffee Comimg

According to my Hey Google, it is partly cloudy and 77˚. That’s accurate as I was out in the backyard earlier picking up the papers, and it was cloudy. Yup, I was picking up Nala trash. Nothing is safe in my house. I’ll start with yesterday. She stole a bag of rolls, of brioche rolls, tasty brooch rolls I was saving for a lunch sandwich. They were hidden on the counter, but, obviously, they were not well hidden. Later yesterday I needed my wallet for a credit card number and foolishly left it on the table when I was done thinking a wallet is safe. How silly of me. When I went to put the wallet back into my bag, I couldn’t find it so I went to the deck to look. It didn’t take long. I saw the dollar bill first then the five dollar bill. The ten was still in the wallet. The credit cards were strewn on the deck. I picked them up, put them into the wallet, went back inside and checked the cards. One was missing. I found it under a chair. This morning I got the papers. They were in a single plastic sleeve which I tossed on the stove while I made coffee. I saw down in the den then went to let Henry in the back door. I noticed the Boston Globe was on the drive-way. It was missing a bit of the front page. I went down to the yard to get my paper and noticed the other paper, the Cape Times, still in half of the sleeve, under the deck near the giant holes. I picked up two papers, the plastic roll bag pieces and cardboard from an unknown source. Nala was a busy girl yesterday.

When I was a kid, we had trash day once a week. The big truck had a driver and two guys hanging off the back. Their job was to grab the barrels, empty them into the truck then toss them back onto the sidewalk. The barrels were metal back then so trash day was a noisy day. I used to like to watch the trash get pressed. I remember the compressor made sort of a humming sound. The trash would be crushed then pushed further into the truck body. Certain items couldn’t be collected, but everybody in town knew the forbidden items miraculously disappeared with the just as miraculous appearance of a cold six pack.

My dance card isn’t blank for a change. My uke and I are busy tonight, tomorrow night and Wednesday morning. We’re winding down our summer appearances. We’re practicing our last book, The Beatles. I am very bad at playing this last book. The changes are quicker than my fingers have ever been. When I get a chord or two behind, I stop, find my way, and strum. I also smile the whole time. It makes me look as if I know what I’m doing.

The windows and doors are all open to the fresh air. It is down to 77˚ and is far less humid. A breeze is coming from the north. It is a good day to be out, and I have to go out to get food for all the critters. They keep insisting on eating every day.

I just ordered grocery pick-up but not for me. It is from Agway for the beasties. I won’t have to leave my car so I won’t have to get dressed. I’m happy.

When I was a kid, Duke ate two cans of dog food every day. I hated to feed him because the food had a gross smell. Back then the cans held horse meat. Duke ate fast and furiously. Nala and Henry eat only the best. Their food has meat, potatoes, veggies and gravy. Some cans have green beans while others have carrots and peas. Both dogs eat healthier than I do.

Nala has turned her attention to other toys, that would be toys by her definition, not mine. The food is hidden so she snoops everywhere for whatever she can find. Last night she ran out the dog door. That is her tell. She steals something and runs out the door as quickly as she can. I have learned not to chase her, not to engage in the game. She is far faster than I have ever been. Last night I waited a bit and called her in for a treat. While she was munching, I investigated. Two orange bulbs, Christmas light bulbs, were on the deck. Nala was munching on the plastic container. I have no idea where she found the bulbs. She had one more she was playing with this morning. I heard it hitting the floor. Nala is amazing. She has mad skills.

I don’t have much ambition to do anything except turn a page or change a channel, but the other day I bit the bullet and vacuumed, and I need to vacuum again. I’ll do it later. It is an easy way to have a sense of accomplishment and a clean floor, of sorts.

Yesterday was close to a perfect day. My house was cool all day. I whiled away the afternoon watching Chris Sale and the Sox win. I ate Ben and Jerry’s Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz! with hot fudge sauce. I was in heaven.

When I woke up, a bit ago, it was sunny, hot and humid, the sort of humidity you can see in the air. The sun disappeared then reappeared, only to disappear again where we are now. The heat and the thick humidity stay behind. The forecast is for clouds and maybe even a thunder shower. I’ll be just fine staying nice and cool inside the house. Even the dogs are out and back quickly.

The wind is picking up now and blowing the top branches and leaves of the trees in the backyard, even the biggest trees. The sky is cloudy, a milky white cloud. All of a sudden, the darkness is a bit ominous.

I finished some of my chores yesterday; however, the kitchen floor is still filled with paw prints. I vacuumed all of downstairs, and I cleaned the kitchen counters and the appliances yesterday. Neither chore was on my list. Why I keep a list is at issue, moot.

My main chore today is the kitchen floor. It is in such dire of attention I don’t even look down when I walk through. Besides, I figured I’d run out of excuses but, today’s prediction, the possibility of rain, gives me pause (paws?, sorry).

Nala continues her thieving ways and is getting even more brazen. When I was reading the newspaper, she checked out the paper recycle bag and stole a flat box, totally missing the irony. That I was watching her made no never-mind. She took off down the hall to the back door. She trotted with that boxer pride in her steps, her head held high, ill-gotten gains in her mouth as she went outside. I waited and checked on her. She was tearing the box apart, and I also noticed a hole, a freshly dug hole. Nala is a busy girl.

When I was a kid, Duke, our boxer, drove my father crazy. Duke would take off in the morning and follow kids to school. My dad would yell. Duke would hear his name, turn around and look then turn back around and take off. My dad would jump into the car and give chase. By then, my father was apoplectic and screaming Duke’s name as Duke trotted away. Sometimes Duke got caught. Other times my father had to stop the hunt and leave for work. Later, once the kids were in school, Duke would arrive home, none the worse for the chase. He was, after all, triumphant.

I missed this morning. It was after noon when I woke up. I had gotten up earlier and let the dogs out then I waited for Henry so I could let him in. While I was waiting, I decided it was too early to be stirring so Henry and I went back to bed. Nala joined us later.

I’m going to defend my late morning or my early afternoon. Given the particulars, I’m leaning toward late morning. It was close to four AM when I went upstairs to the cats. I cleaned their bowls, filled their bowls, cleaned the litter boxes and combed both of them. Jack purred. Gwen want back to her dish. Gwen is always the first at the water and the food. Meanwhile, for the entire time, the two dogs stood right outside the gate which protects the cat room from Nala’s incursions. They wanted treats. They got treats.

Yesterday I was out for close to three hours. I had four errands including the dump. I was going to delay the dump until the weekend, but my errands were right by the dump road so I went. My last stop of the day was at the Harwich Farmer’s Market. We performed a uke concert for an hour. I shopped after and bought scones, macrons and lemon cucumbers.

I dreaded getting home yesterday. I figured Nala probably got bored and found stuff to keep her busy. She did. In the hall were the remnants of this week’s TV Guide and the front and back pages of next week’s. I found pieces of wood in three different rooms. The wood pieces had small black lines I recognized as part of my ruler, the one which has been on the table for months and months. I also found the bottom half of my new pen. The top half is still missing.

Today I am staying inside. I have no reason to be out and about, and I do need to do a few inside chores. I have to vacuum the hall, the kitchen and the living room. I also need to wash the kitchen floor, the one with all the dog prints. I had delayed washing the floor figuring rain had been predicted, but it didn’t rain. I have delayed even more figuring it may rain next week so why wash the floor today. That excuse go on for months except the dirty floor is driving me crazy. It will be washed later.

Yesterday I made myself a fluffernutter for lunch. I was just in the mood for one. I had nice soft Hawaiian bread, and soft bread is an essential ingredient to the perfect fluffernutter. I spread the gooey goodness across each slice of bread from corner to corner, peanut butter on the left slice and Marshmallow Fluff on the right (arbitrary choice I know). I put the sandwich together, out it on a small plate and took it to the den table. Henry wanted in so I went to the door. I was gone a minute. When I walked into the den, the sandwich was gone. Nala hadn’t enough time to escape to the yard so she was standing on the couch with the sandwich in her mouth. I confiscated her prize, reprimanded her, threw the sandwich away and made another one I guarded with my life. Nala watched me eat it. I swear she had a pained look.

The morning is hot. It is already 80˚. The high will be 85˚. My AC is cranking. The dogs are chasing each other up and down the hall, not my favorite playtime activity for them. I usually say take it outside, but it is too hot. They are out and back inside quickly. It is almost time for morning naps.

Henry needs his nails trimmed. He saw me put the nail cutter on the table, and he took off to parts unknown. Henry is too smart to be duped more than once. I’ll have to be more creative.

When I was a kid, I never took a nap. There were so many places to visit and so much to do every day that sleeping the afternoon away never occurred to me. I was in college when I first started taking naps. They were mostly so I could study through the night. In Ghana, even in the afternoon heat, I took a nap. The whole town took a nap. My students had a rest time in their dorms. The post office closed for a couple of hours. Everything slowed down in town. I sometimes did kiosk shopping in the hot afternoon. The kiosks only closed late at night. I bought margarine, canned milk, instant coffee, toilet paper and bagged sugar and flour.

My first view of Ghana was on the bus ride from the airport to our training site. The kiosks caught my attention. I have two pictures out the bus window of these roadside mini-marts lining the sidewalks on both sides. Some looked like large boxes with shelves and two doors while others were just wood framed. They sold all sorts of things, and many of them sold all the same items of food and tickets for the lotto. I never understood how anybody could make money from a kiosk.

In my town, there weren’t as many kiosks. I always stopped at the ones right in the center of town across the street from the store with cold Cokes. I used a shepherd’s bag to carry my goods. It was woven and it stretched. I remember putting a shepherd’s bag on each handlebar of my motorcycle for even weight. The bags were stretched so much that the cans weighed down at the bottom. I kept banging my knees on the hanging bags.

I was going to the dump today, but it is far too hot to toss heavy trash bags. I do have a couple of errands so I’ll be going out later. I’ll be running from the cold car to cold buildings so I’ll have to contend with foggy glasses though I figure that’s a small price to pay for comfort.

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.