Keep the Coffee Comimg

Fifteen minutes ago, the morning was lovely. Since then, clouds have arrived. It is 73˚ right now and feels less humid than it has been. No rain is on the horizon, for a while anyway.

I have a new house theme, The Tumbling Tumbleweeds. Dust balls fly in the air when I walk down the hall. My choices are to ignore them or vacuum. Ignoring them means they’ll grow larger and reproduce. Okay, not really reproduce, that’s a theme from a black and white B science fiction movie, dust bunnies grow teeth and attack, but they’ll definitely be more of them so I’m going to bite the bullet and vacuum.

My father used to keep what he called a tucker in his wallet. It was a hundred dollar bill. He kept it for emergencies. When I was young, I always wanted to see it. A hundred dollar bill was a rarity. I remember my father would open his wallet, pull out the bill, unfold it then show it to me with a flourish. I’d hold it for a bit then he’d take it, fold it and tuck it back into this wallet.

In my mind’s eye I can see all of the places where I’ve lived. The kitchen in the house where I grew up was small. The sink was across from the door. My mother kept a dish rack on the counter and a triangular shaped garbage holder in the corner of the sink. That had to be emptied into the in-ground garbage bin. I always hated emptying it. The fridge was beside the sink. It was skinny and had one of those small freezers which always seemed to be covered in ice. The stove too was skinny. It was across the room from the fridge. The appliances were white. On the counter was the turtle bowl. It was shaped almost like a wave you’d draw in art class. The turtle could swim or rest on an island of sorts with a palm tree, a plastic palm tree. My mother usually fed the turtle in the morning when she was preparing breakfast. In the summer time the turtle got stunned flies to eat. He loved those the most. I used to do my homework at the kitchen table. The back door was across from the table. The screen door always slammed. That drove my mother crazy. The rest of us never noticed.

Yesterday’s rain stopped in the late afternoon. The sky cleared, the sun arrived and the wind disappeared. It was a whole new day. Today is humid, damp and cloudy. Not a leaf is moving in the still air. The early morning smelled of the salt and the ocean. The forecast says maybe rain. That is the weekly forecast as well, the possibility of rain every day for the next week. The high today will be 71˚ with 87% humidity.

Nala is into everything. Trash picking is the least of it. That I can handle. Last night she took a pillow, a pen, a crewel kit, paper bags and plates, cake decorations and a box of honey cornbread mix. I caught that last one before she got beyond chewing the box. Later, I went outside and found empty boxes, folded boxes from my recycle bin. Most things she sneaks outside so checking the yard is part of my daily chores.

I bought cereal the other day. My favorite Rice Krispies was in a gigantic box meant to feed a family of ten so I passed it by. They didn’t have Raisin Bran Crunch, my second favorite. I ended up buying a variety of small boxes. I had never tasted most of the cereal. The only exception was Sugar Pops, Annie Oakley’s favorite cereal. I tried the Fruit Loops. They were okay. Next was the Cocoa Puffs. Those I liked but I wasn’t destined to finish those Puffs. On the way to the couch, I tripped on a box on the floor. I didn’t fall but the full bowl of cereal went everywhere. Nala helped by eating what she could find. Henry never has gone on that side of the room so I felt bad for him. He ended up licking the bowl and eating the few Puffs left. I had to move some vinyl, a couple of baskets, some bags and a big piece of pottery so I could wipe up the milk and gather the Puffs.

When I was a kid, I could never imagine a Saturday staying at home unless a wild storm was raging, and my mother wouldn’t let me out no matter how much I begged. Now, I relish days at home, even Saturdays. As for today, I have no ambition. I am a sloth. I am happily a sloth.

The dogs woke me up at seven so I let them out, and I waited until Henry wanted in so I could open the door for him. After I did, I went back to bed. Nala joined us and her fur was wet so I knew it was raining by then. I woke at 10, and it was windy and pouring. The rain stopped for a bit then came back with a vengeance. The wind is even stronger than earlier. The pine trees are swaying. The dogs went out but are now chasing each other up and down the hall. All I hear is panting and growling, nice growls, fun growls.

My plans for the day are to hunker down at home, clean the dining room and living room and try to ignore the dogs’ paw prints in the kitchen and down the hall. My cleaning music will be Joni. The Reprise album came yesterday. A sing-a-long is definitely in order.

When I was a kid, my whole world was my house and my small town. I was usually alone when I biked except for that trip to East Boston. When I walked, my brother was sometimes with me. We walked the tracks or to the pool or the zoo. One part of the tracks ended at the depot, a brick building which had a variety of lives once the trains stopped running. The other part kept going. We never walked to the end. I still wonder where the tracks led.

I love trains. My dream when I was young was to take the train across the country. I wanted to fall asleep to the chugging of the train on the tracks. I never made it, but I have taken some spectacular rides.

Ghana used to have passenger trains. I took them whenever they fitted into my itinerary. The one to Kumasi, the second largest city in Ghana, was the train I took the most. I always went first class which wasn’t expensive but was always comfortable. Each first class compartment had four leather seats. Most of the time I was by myself. Looking out the window was my favorite way to pass the time. I could see the backs of compounds and small houses. When the train stopped, women and small girls were at the window selling fruit, bread and bush meat on a stick. The only way to eat the heavily peppered bush meat was to wrap it in bread.

I once went down coast from Accra to Takoradi which is the oldest port in Ghana. From there I had to switch to tro-tros or lorries as the train went no further down the coast. That was the infamous train ride when the cars jumped the tracks. I almost fell out of bed, my comfortable first class bed. I remember walking from one side of a trestle bridge to the other. That was one crazy experience.

The last train I took was the Cape Cod Railway from Hyannis to Buzzards Bay. My mother and I took the train together a couple of times and once with my aunt the nun. We’d get off in Sandwich, shop and have lunch then re-board the train to go home. I love those memories.

The morning is a delight. The air is dry and cool. The breeze, from the north, is constant. The weather report predicts thunder storms and a high of 77˚. There is a tropical storm warning in effect.

I have to go out again for the third day in a row. I am not a fan of leaving the house. The roads are clogged, and I have to sit through a few light cycles to move left or right off the main road. I curse the drivers who have no idea where to go and go slowly while they look. The nuns would call driving on Cape Cod in the summer an occasion of sin, but I think of the cursing as a tension breaker, a reliever from the stress of driving behind cars from everywhere but here.

When I was a kid, my favorite road for a family ride or trip north was Route 1. I remember looking out the window almost the whole trip. I didn’t want to miss a thing. The dinosaur at the miniature golf course was one of my favorites. I always wondered if the course meant sending my golf ball through the teeth of a dinosaur. While on the road, we never stopped to eat. My mother packed picnic lunches, but I would have loved to have stopped at the Ship restaurant. It was huge and looked out of place. It was landlocked. The Prince Pizzeria had a leaning Tower of Pisa and a full parking lot. We drove right by it despite our pleas to eat there. The Kowloon Restaurant had a tiki on the front. It was everything a 50’s Chinese restaurant had. Drinks came in tiki glasses. Inside there was a waterfall, and the decor was big on plastic tikis. Russo’s Candy House was the one stop I most regretted watching disappear through the rear car window. I remember Adventure Car Hop and Woo Woo Ginsberg on the radio as it was one of his sponsors. It looked like the drive-in restaurants in American Graffiti but without the roller skates. You just sat in your car for the waitress to bring your food. I don’t remember exactly when The Adventure Car Hop disappeared and was replaced by some sort of business. I remember driving by and thinking it still looked like The Adventure Car Hop without the food.

Even now, should I choose to venture north, I would use Route 1 and Route 1A. If something caught my attention, I’d stop. I wouldn’t pack a lunch. I’d eat at some small drive-up. I’d probably have a cheeseburger and fries with a chocolate milk shake. Such are the joys of the road.

The wind is blowing, the air is humid, the sky is cloudy and it will be hot today. Thunderstorms are predicted for late this afternoon. Last night there was rolling thunder. Henry looked up from the bed but decided he was in no danger so he went back to sleep. Nala never noticed.

I have more trash than I have room for in my car so I’ll take a trip to the dump this afternoon. I have an appointment in Hyannis after which I’ll do the dump run. The rest of the trash is upstairs and is from the kitty litter boxes in the cats’ room. The pile gets bigger every day. The bags get heavier. I’m too old for this.

I remember how awful the barrels smelled when I was a kid. Flies were inside those barrels and circling around the covers. When my mother asked me too empty the kitchen basket, I groused. I knew when I lifted the barrel cover the flies would escape, and I’d be in their flight paths. We did have a garbage container in the backyard, what today would probably be a compost pile, buried except for its cover which was metal and flipped open when you pressed the pedal. The flies were even worse there, and I vividly remember the maggots, crawling white gross little worms all over the bananas peels and half-eaten apples. I used to watch them for them a while. They never attacked me the way the flies did.

In Ghana, flies were ubiquitous. At first, I was grossed out, but later, recognizing a losing battle, it didn’t take long for me to stop caring. I’d just wave my hands to keep the flies off me and my food. The market was fly heaven. The aunties, the local entrepreneurs who sold produce in the market, used straw fans to keep the bugs at bay. My house had screens so few flies could broach the interior. Other bugs could but not flies.

Every Saturday night was entertainment night at my school. Houses competed in plays and singing competitions. Tribal dancing was my favorite Saturday event. Sometimes we’d watch a movie. My favorite was a cartoon about the dangers of flies carrying disease. The large cartoon flies, about the size of birds, flew into pit toilets, covered their legs with feces and then stopped on food. My students were grossed out as was I. Solutions were offered, none viable. My favorite was to put screen covers over the food, but few Ghanaians had screens in their houses so this was totally impractical. I didn’t have covers for my food either. I never even thought about having some made.

When I went back to Ghana, I easily fell back into ignoring the flies. I guess it had become inherent. I’d notice them when they landed on food, but I’d just waved my hand as a matter of course, and the flies would leave for the meantime.

The morning is a delight. Right now it is 69˚ with lots of sun and the smallest of breezes. It will be a drying out day after three days of rain. It will also be a wash the kitchen floor day before I go crazy because of the muddy paw prints. They also go all the way down the hall.

Yesterday Nala counter surfed again. She took my English muffin. I found the plastic outside. She also hunted through a bag upstairs and stole a new Christmas ornament, a decorated cloth ornament. When she ran out the dog door, I knew she had something. She and I played tag for a while then she dropped the ornament. Later she stole a big package of tortillas. I remembered in a matter of seconds I had left them on the counter. When I went outside, Nala had the bag in her mouth. Two of the tortillas were sticking out of the bag. I chased her through the tall weeds in the back yard. She ran. I walked and called her the entire time. Finally she drop the tortillas and ate the two which had been hanging out of the bag. The last Nala theft was newspapers. I went out on the deck and found shredded paper and parts of the Sunday Globe. I collected all of it. It took a little while, and this morning I saw one I had missed in the yard. I’m thinking of belling the dog when she is inside so if I hear the rapid tolling off the bell I’ll know she is up to something. Good thing she is so cute.

When I was a kid, I was busy every summer day, even in a soft rain. I went to the park below my street and played games like horseshoes, tennis and softball. I made some crafts. I was a pro at lanyards made from gimp. I could also make bracelets in a flat sort of weaving pattern. I remember my biggest accomplishment was painting a wooden tray decorated with leaves and flowers. I so neatly painted I never once missed the pattern. I figured it was a talent honed by coloring inside the lines.

I can barely wait for movies on the deck season, but the nights are still a bit chilly. Last year I bought a few new movies, but we had no movie nights last year so they are still new movies. A couple are my favorite B science fiction movies in black and white. I can’t remember which creatures, but I think one has murderous aliens. Bring on the popcorn!!

This is my July 4th posting. It describes the history of July 4th and our celebrations to memorialize the day. I just hope today we’ll celebrate together.

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. 

On July 3rd 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife Abigail. In it, he predicted the celebrations for American Independence Day, including the parties:

“It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other.”

John Adams expected July 2nd to be Independence Day as that was the day the Second Continental Congress voted for independence, but the signing ceremony for the Declaration of Independence didn’t happen until two days later so because July 4th appears on the Declaration, it became the date we celebrate Independence.

I know some people complain that the meaning of the day is lost in the barbecues and the fireworks, but they have forgotten John Adams’ hope. We are honoring the day exactly as he wished. Flags are waving everywhere. Families get together to celebrate and to break bread, albeit hot dog rolls. Fireworks illuminate the sky. Baseball is played on small town fields and in huge stadiums. Drums beat the cadence in parades. We sing rousing songs celebrating America and our freedom. We also sing heartfelt songs about what America means to us. We are many sorts of people, we Americans. We don’t all look the same, practice the same religion, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today.

“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.” Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.

Today is cold, in the very low 60’s. It is also dark. Rain is expected this afternoon into the night and continuing tomorrow with a low of 58˚. That’s even a cold spring day. The roads over the bridges to the cape were bumper to bumper traffic yesterday. Today the tourists will be out and about trying to find something to do in the rain. The main roads will be clogged with slow moving cars filled with tourists craning their necks from side to side so as not to miss anything. I’ll stay home.

Last night I decided hot dogs were the perfect dinner. I am a fan of hot dogs and always have some on hand. Four dogs were left but only two buns. I figured I’d cook all four and share with Nala and Henry. I went into the bathroom, and when I returned to the kitchen, the hot dogs were gone and so was Nala. When she steals something, she runs outside to hide her crime. I went to look and saw her running in the yard with her prize in her mouth. I went back inside and cooked eggs for dinner. The sad, leftover buns were my toast.

My kitchen floor is a disgrace. It is criss-crossed with muddy paw prints. I hate it, but I have to leave it be through tomorrow’s rain. It would silly to wash it now, but that floor is driving me crazy.

When I was a kid, our dog Duke stole a roast beef off the counter. It was sitting there defrosting for dinner. My brother and I wrested the meat from Duke’s mouth. He wasn’t happy but gave up his prize anyway. We washed the beef and pressed the meat to hid the toothmarks. My mother was never the wiser.

I remember one July 4th. We were in the next town over at my dad’s friend’s house. It was on the parade route so we’d sit on the porch to watch the parade, an amazing parade of floats, bands, drill teams and drum corps. We’d nosh on snacks and appetizers during the festivities then have barbecue for supper, we kids that is. The adults ordered Chinese food. I can still see all the white containers sitting on the kitchen island. I asked my mother if I could taste some of it. She said no. Chinese food is not good for children, only adults. Sometime later, after I’d eaten Chinese food and didn’t die or get hives, I remembered the adults only comment and realized that my mother had told a lie of convenience so the adults wouldn’t have to share.

Okay, my frustration level is about as high as it ever gets. I have been on line for close to three hours trying to find alternative download and post music videos sites. I was not successful which is why you see only one song today. I have been all over the net visiting at least twenty sites giving instructions about downloading blocked videos on YouTube, but I failed miserably. I asked for some help earlier but I figured we were all in the same no-download boat, so to speak. Please help if you can. I think I need a nap after all of the hunting and finding nothing.

Last night the evening got cooler, the wind blew then the rain started. It was gentle at first, and both dogs went out for a bit, but in a short while, the rain got heavy, noisy. I could hear it hitting the metal barrel on the deck. Henry did go out later but reluctantly. Nala went out, turned around and came back inside. After the trauma of their getting wet, we three shared some watermelon. Both dogs love watermelon. I am happy to share.

This morning is damp, chilly and quite dark. Heavy rain is predicted. Light rain started earlier then stopped, but that is only a temporary reprieve.

When I was at home in Ghana, I bought my fruit in the market. On the road, I bought from hucksters. Oranges and bananas were the fruits I usually bought as they were easy to eat and didn’t need to be washed, just peeled. Ghana was where I tasted my first mango. I didn’t like mangoes at first, but they sort of grew (really?) on me. I loved pineapple, the sweet pineapple. I also tasted my first pawpaw (papaya). The Peace Corps cook book, Ghana Chop, called it the amazing pawpaw. It was versatile and even tasted like apple when baked in a pie. I saw coconuts in the wild, hanging from palm trees. One of my favorite snacks, usually sold on the street by small girls, was a toasted coconut ball. I had a bowl of fruit for lunch every day. They were the freshest fruits I have ever eaten.

When I was a kid, penny candy had amazing choices, and all of them were really a penny. Fireballs were my favorites. They lasted the longest especially when I’d have to take the fire ball out of my mouth because of the heat. Candy buttons weren’t the easiest to eat. I had to be careful not to get any paper with the buttons, an almost impossible task. Root beer barrels are still among my favorites. When I was in Ghana, I craved root beer. Mary Janes took a lot of chewing as did Squirrel Nut Zippers. Sometimes the wrappers stuck to the candy. If I couldn’t take off the wrapper remnants I ate the candy anyway. I was a kid.

My to-do list is empty, not because there is nothing to do, but because I don’t want to do anything. My car has filled trash bags in the trunk waiting for a dump run, but today is an ugly day, a day to stay home, warm and dry. I declare today a sloth day.