Keep the Coffee Comimg

The sun is squint your eyes bright. I’m thinking of sitting on the deck and reading the day away so as not to miss any of that warmth, any of that light. This whole week will be sunny and warm, a few showers maybe but still warm in the 70’s. I’m about to shed my sweatshirt.

Yesterday, the dump was as busy as I’ve even seen it. I went about a half hour before closing but still had to wait for a parking spot beside the recycle bins. My back seat was filled with boxes, the biggest ones from Chewy. My front seat had papers and magazines in shopping bags. The trunk was filled. Two of the bags were so heavy with litter I had to drag them from the trunk to the bin. The new litter was delivered late yesterday so I changed the cat box this morning and put the bag into the trunk, the first bag.

I will replace the deck lights today. That is the only thing. The dirty clothes will sit upstairs another day. I may relent and vacuum the litter, but that depends on how annoyed I am by the crunching.

I avoid math. It was my toughest subject starting in high school when I couldn’t use my fingers to count any more. I was learning algebra in the ninth grade. Even then I knew I’d never use algebra, and no one could give me a reason for spending a whole school year on one useless subject. I looked it up the other day. The reasons for learning algebra include: algebra is faster and better than basic math, it could be a job skill later on, algebra can be useful in life and it’s beautiful. I know a mathematician wrote the article I read. Beautiful? Really?

When I was a kid, the longer afternoons this time of year made for staying outside and playing games like tag or even bike riding but in the neighborhood. Supper was usually a little while after we went inside. During the wait for supper, I did my homework or watched TV if I had no homework. Kids’ shows were on in the early afternoon. I remember the Mickey Mouse Club and Superman. Back then, I didn’t question that nobody recognized Clark when he was Superman or thought all his absences a bit too coincidental. I did wish I could fly, still do.

Maybe I should just start every musing with ditto on the weather. Today, though, I get to say we’re in the 70’s. What a delight!! The day is perfect. More flowers have bloomed in the front garden. The slight morning breeze barely ruffles the small leaves hanging off the oak branches. I was out on the deck for a while and reluctantly came back inside to make my coffee. Just imagine how beautiful the morning is if I am reluctant to go inside even to make coffee.

I watch old TV mostly in the wee hours. Some of my favorite shows are just awful in retrospect. I have trouble imaging the me who enjoyed them. Now I often scoff. A few of them, though, have aged well. I enjoy Kolchak, the Night Stalker. I like looking at the clothes in Lost in Space. They are a monument to the colors of the 60’s as is Buck Rogers which I don’t watch. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea is dizzying. The Seaview goes back and forth and throws crewmen against the walls in every episode. I just shake my head and keep watching.

My mood fluctuates. Nothing triggers it. That’s just the way it’s been lately in this weird time. The last few days, actually the last week or so, I haven’t had the wherewithal to do a thing. I didn’t even make a list. I barely moved off the couch. Brushing my teeth was a chore. I rested in the middle.

The mop, the vacuum and the dust cloths have been sitting in my upstairs hall for well over a week. I acknowledged the pile by stepping over it. When I went into the cats’ room, I could hear the crunch of litter as I walked. Shrinking the size of the contact by tip toeing didn’t help. That was a last ditch silly effort doomed to failure from the start. Anyway, back to the story, back to the drama. Last night, around 2 AM, I was lying in bed hunting the elusive Morpheus. It was then I decided I couldn’t stand it anymore. I jumped up and vacuumed the cats’ room. I wet mopped the floor. I vacuumed then washed the bathroom floor. I used all the cleaning supplies from the hall. I went to sleep happy.

Today I expect to go to the dump. My trunk is filled mostly with bags of wet, heavy cat litter. One more bag is upstairs. I couldn’t carry it down as my hands were full of cleaning supplies. I hope to vacuum down here and wash the kitchen floor. I’m happy and productive, but I’d prefer a happy mood which doesn’t include cleaning.

We are well into spring. I’m being definitive. The weather is finally consistently warm. Today will reach 70˚. I have opened windows on both floors. It is time to blow away the dust. It is time to embrace the warmth of spring, to let the fresh air into the house. I’m thinking flower shopping this week. A few warm days does that to me, has me dreaming.

I have given up on deck lights. The newest set is dead. It lasted a couple of weeks. I haven’t done the autopsy yet, but I’m guessing the wire has been bitten in half somewhere along the strand. Those lights have been replaced so many times I’ve lost count. I do have one more set, but I’ll hold on a bit longer. The only complication is Henry won’t go out the dog door at night without lights. Brave boy!

When I lived in Ghana, I ate just about the same thing every day. In the morning it was eggs over easy and toast, sugar bread toast slathered in margarine. Usually I had a couple of cups of coffee then another cup or two between classes. Lunch was fresh fruit, the usual fruits like oranges, pineapples, bananas, pawpaw and mango. Dinner was beef more often than chicken. I bought the beef already cut. The chickens were still alive. The meat market where I bought my beef was gross, but I remember that mostly in hindsight. Most things went unnoticed. It was just life in Ghana.

Each time I’ve gone to Ghana, my joy at being back overwhelms me. I love the sounds of the different languages. The air is redolent and filled with the smell of thick greenery and of charcoal burning. Roasting plantain can be bought along the roadside. The oranges are sweet. I roam the markets, eat street food, bargain for taxi rides and enjoy jollof rice almost every dinner. Everything is familiar. I had preserved well my memories. Just before I left Ghana and Peace Corps, I knew I needed to remember everything. I wanted the colors, the tastes and the sounds to be a part of me always. I kept the Ghanaians close too my heart for all those years away. I want one more trip.

Today is even lovelier than yesterday. It will reach 69˚ for the high. If I were the weatherman, I’d be tempted to bump the temperature one more degree. Who would know? It would be a kindness. 70˚ sounds so much warmer than 69˚.

My view out the den window is narrow, but I can see the bright green new leaves on the oak tree beside the deck starting to unfurl. The big oak in the back of the yard already has leaves. It is in the perfect spot to catch the afternoon sun. I was going to try to get my dump sticker today, but I have decided to stay home. I thought about going out, but I’d have to take only right turns. I slept wrong so if I turn my head to the left, my neck hurts, a yelping hurt. I did imagine the ride to town hall, and I’d have to travel miles to find those right turns.

When I woke up with a sore neck, that tempered my morning. I didn’t talk I yelled at Henry to stop barking and to Jack to stop eating pencil erasers. Both of them wisely left to other rooms but Jack has returned. He is sleeping on the back of the couch behind me on an afghan. I can hear him lightly snoring. Henry is upstairs on my bed taking his morning nap, not to be confused with his afternoon nap, his early evening nap and his late night nap.

I washed the kitchen floor yesterday. It was not on any list. I just couldn’t take the paw prints anymore. The floor looks great. Today I’ll work on upstairs. I vacuumed last night, but I need to wash the bathroom floor. Jack is a messy drinker when he bellies up to the toilet. When I was patting Jack this morning, I found at least four clumps. I got three out but the fourth took a bit of doing. Jack whacked me. I stopped but I did get the clump. There are more, but I’ll comb him.

Little did I know how many Godzilla movies there are. He fights every monster I know and several I don’t know. I was looking for something to watch this morning when I happened on the Godzilla list. The Godzilla titles are so numerous many include the year of the movie to help keep track of their chronology. I have seen the original but only once. It was made in 1954. The latest is from 2019, Godzilla: King of the Monsters. You need to pay to see that one. I wonder if many people have seen it. Some of the others you also have pay to watch. Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla is one of those for rent. I was not even tempted; however, I have keyed the original. I haven’t seen it in a while, but I have to end here so I can read the subtitles. I think it’s a great way to spend the afternoon, and my TV is at a right angle from the couch.

Last night it rained. I noticed the drops on the back door. I didn’t even ask Henry if he wanted out. He is a dog with sound judgment so he would back away from the door. I don’t know how long it rained. Henry went out a couple of hours later.

I went out yesterday to my morning uke lesson then went home a roundabout way just for the ride. It was a pretty day. Lots of pink trees have bloomed. Some trees have red buds getting close to being leaves. Tulips and dafs are along the front gardens of houses. They are easy to see being so bright and so tall. I stopped at Nancy’s Candies and bought some red licorice, 2 chocolate covered Oreos, and 2 dark chocolate peanut butter cups. I loved my ride, and I really loved my stop at Nancy’s.

Today is a gorgeous day. The sun is squint your eyes bright, and it is already 63˚. Everything in the backyard is glinting in the sun. The air is so still nothing is moving. The birds are noisy. I have to go out again today. I’m glad. I’m thinking another ride, the long way around again but the other long way around.

When I was a kid, I would have loved a morning like today’s. I remember the walk to school under the trees on sunny, warm spring mornings. The leaves were still small so the sun shined through to the sidewalk, not yet dappled in shade. The houses next to the sidewalk had small front lawns. I think the road was widened so the sidewalk was moved long before I lived there. They were the old houses I passed on my walk to school. In my town, the old houses were the biggest. Many of them were painted white. I knew a kid in school who lived in one. He was a nice kid, but I was always in awe of where he lived. What’s funny is I still remember his name though I haven’t seen or heard of him since I graduated from grammar school, but thoughts of old houses bring him back to mind. In my memory drawer, he is forever connected to the big old white house on Franklin Street just off the square.

Today is another beautiful day. I am being lulled by days of sun and blue sky into accepting spring has finally arrived and winter has gone, even brief glimpses are gone. Both my doors are open to the sun, but the storm doors are still on as it does get colder at night, down to the low 50’s, too cold yet for screens. There is a bit of a wind this morning but it is still warmish.

It is just about time to plant the front garden and deck flowers. I like to figure out what I want ahead of time. I know some of the deck boxes already have herbs growing so I’ll check those first. I did see the tops of the oregano plants breaking ground in one box and the mint box will fill this summer. The two old boxes are finished. They are falling apart. I’ve had them for quite a long time. I noticed a spawn was chewing on one box the other day. I suppose better the box than the deck or furniture.

Some phlox is still left in my front garden. My father planted it. Every time he came to visit, he needed something to keep him busy. My mother and I went shopping. My father would mow and trim the front lawn. One time he tackled the wild back yard. He planted flowers in the front garden, ground cover he told me. He came down another time to help me paint. He forgot his ladder. The new paint went only a far as we could reach. That stayed for a long time. It was red. I always made a chocolate cream pie for my father. By the end of the visit, the pie was gone and neither my mother nor I had a piece. We didn’t ask. My mother knew it was special for my father.

My nephew’s favorite cake is Boston Cream Pie. It is the official Commonwealth dessert. (Massachusetts is a commonwealth, not a state). Boston cream pie is a cake, not a pie.

I love lemon meringue pie. It is my favorite and was a Thanksgiving tradition at our house when I was a kid. I didn’t know anyone else who had a lemon meringue pie at Thanksgiving. They had the traditional apple and pumpkin and maybe sweet potato though I think it is too close to being pumpkin to have both. Anyway, we had the apple too. It was my father’s favorite. He was a true New Englander, and he enjoyed his apple pie with a slice of sharp cheddar cheese on top.

I had cheesecake on Mother’s Day. That dessert presents its own conundrum. It is made with cheese so that part of its name works, but it is not by any stretch of the imagination a cake. It is a cheese pie. I had cheese pie with caramel sauce on Mother’s Day.

I won’t even discuss crab cakes.

Today is cloudy. It rained last night and everything is still wet. It should get to 60˚this afternoon but without the help of the sun, which is currently on hiatus. I think I’m going out later. I need to get beyond the walls of my house. I have no destination in mind. I’ll just drive. I’m thinking up cape.

I talk all the time to Henry and Jack. Neither one pays much attention to me. I tell Henry to stay and wait, and he gets up or lies down. He is unclear on the concept of stay. Jack does pretty much what he wants. Right now he wants his morning nap and is lying beside me. Henry is upstairs.

I decided to forego my to-do list today, not from a lack of choices but from a lack of ambition. Today the dust will scatter into the air when I walk down the hall. I’ll try not to notice. I’ll think of it as the dry season.

I watched videos of Ghana, a food tour of Ghana. The guy went to great stops and ate the best local food, but he mispronounced the names of places, and he even called them Ghanians. I scream at the TV. The city of Tamale is not a Mexican staple.

Maybe it is just today being Monday. In my lifetime, Monday has always been a letdown, a back to work day. Even the newspapers are smallest on Mondays. I finish reading them before I finish my second cup of coffee. That throws off the whole day.

I’m watching Greenland, a science fiction movie. The world, or most of it, will be destroyed by an asteroid and pieces of the asteroid. Tampa has disappeared in smoke and ash, destroyed by a fragment. This is the perfect movie for my mood today or maybe not. Perhaps I need a Disney to pull me out of the doldrums. Maybe, too, I need to stop at Nancy’s Candies on my ride.

The sun is right now breaking from behind the clouds. I can see blue. The day has become so much brighter. The leaves are shining. Sun and chocolate will do it every time.

Special days have special posts. 

Today is Mother’s Day. It is the day I honor my mother and my memories of her. Every year I post basically this same entry with only a few little changes. 

I am amazed at how long ago I lost my mother. Sometimes it seems like a day while other times it feels like forever. I keep her close always, in my heart. 

My mother was amazing. She was generous, fun to be with and was the perfect martyr when she needed to be, a skill I think most mothers have. It was her tone of voice so filled with pain that caused our guilt to well to the surface. “I’ll do it myself,” she’d say. We’d scurry to do whatever she wanted. She was tricky, that woman.

My sisters and I laugh often about the curses she inflicted on us: the love of everything Christmas and never thinking you have enough presents for everyone, giving Easter baskets overflowing with candy and fun toys and surprising people with a gift just because.

My mother had a generosity of spirit. She was funny and smart and the belle of every ball. She always had music going in the kitchen as she worked so she could sing along. She played Frank and Tony and Johnny and from her I learned the old songs. My mother drew all the relatives to her, and her house was filled on holidays and weekends. My cousins visited often. She was their favorite aunty. My mother loved to play Big Boggle, and we’d sit for hours at the kitchen table and play so many games we’d lose track of the time. Christmas was always amazing, and she passed this love to all of us. We traveled together, she and I, and my mother was game for anything. I remember Italy and my mother and me after dinner at the hotel bar where she’d enjoy her cognac. She never had it any other time, but we’re on vacation she said and anything goes. I talked to her just about every day, as did my sisters. I loved it when she came to visit. We’d shop, have dinner out then play games at night. I always waited on her when she was here. I figured it was the least I could do.

My mother loved extreme weather shows, TV judges and crime. She never missed Judge Judy. She also liked quiz shows and she and I used to play Jeopardy together on the phone at night. She always had a crossword puzzle book with a pen inside on the table beside her chair, and I used to try to fill in some of the blanks. On the dining room table was often a jig saw puzzle, and we all stopped to add pieces on the way to the kitchen. My mother loved a good time.

She did get feisty, and I remember flying slippers aimed at my head when I was a kid and one time a dictionary, a big dictionary, was thrown which luckily missed me though the binding broke when it hit the wall. I pointed that out to her and that made her madder. She expertly used mother’s guilt on us, her poor victims. We sometimes drove her crazy, and she let us know, none too quietly. We never argued over politics. She kept her opinions close. We sometimes argued over other things, but the arguments never lasted long.

Even after all this time, I still think to reach for the phone to call my mother when I see something interesting or have a question I know only she can answer, but then in a split second I remember. When I woke up this morning, my first thought was of her, and how much she is missed. No one ever told me how hard it would be. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!!

The sky is cloudy, and the day feels damp. It is a blah day, a day for staying home cozy and warm. I did go out to pick up my Mother’s Day dinner, the only item on my to-do list. I am treating myself. Dinner tomorrow will be steamers, fish chowder, salad, cole slaw and the crowning glory, lobster. Did I mention cheese cake is dessert?

For Mother’s Day, I always gave my mother a gift certificate to the nursery. She had window boxes below the front windows and filled them every year. I remember the red flowers and the trailing ivy. My mother also had a small garden next to the house, below the kitchen windows. A statue of St. Francis held seeds for the small birds. We used to kid my mother because her bird feeders attracted pigeons and crows, city birds we told her. Her squirrels were tight rope walkers. They walked across the clothesline to get to the bird feeders hanging off the line. My mother threw out food for the crows. Her backyard was food central for crows, squirrels and pigeons. She got really excited when a different bird flew into the yard. She loved watching my birds with not a pigeon or a crow among them.

When I am traveling, my favorite part of the day is the morning. I love watching places wake up. Mornings smell different. Here this time of year mornings smell green. In Ghana mornings smell of charcoal smoke. In Europe I liked to walk before breakfast. I could smell the exhausts of all the trucks lined up on the street for delivery to the stores before they open. White exhaust smoke was in the air. If I happened on a bakery, I’d buy a croissant and munch as I walked. Back at the hotel it was breakfast time, coffee time.

My father hated European breakfasts except for Ireland and England. My mother loved them. She was a seagull. She always ate odd things together. She loved cucumber sandwiches and cold hot dogs. At our hotels, the different cold cuts and breads put out for breakfast were perfect for her and me. My father said it was lunch. He wanted eggs. He didn’t get them except for hard-boiled. That always disappointed him.

When all of this quarantine began, I tired quickly of the daily routine. I was in a rut. Even the few new things I tried didn’t work. I just slogged through my days. At sometime, I don’t remember when, the carping was lost in the background. It was just gone. What had been routine, a rut, became ritual. I take pleasure in each part of my day starting with the papers and a pot of coffee. Today I added a bagel with cream cheese. I enjoyed this deliciously tasty morning breakfast while I read both papers and finished the crossword and the cryptogram. So far the day has been perfect. I’ll see what the afternoon brings. I’m always hopeful.

Today is warm and the sunlight is the brightest in a while. It shines on everything with almost a yellow light. Every now and then there is a small breeze which moves only the ends of branches. The birds are loud. They know a great day.

Last night I watched West Side Story. I am not especially fond of musicals but West Side Story is one of the exceptions (1776 is another for July 4th). I mentioned Rocky Horror and The Wizard of Oz the other day so add them to the list. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there are far more. Willy Wonka is another. I watch it every time it is on, the Gene Wilder Willie Wonka. I have always loved Singing in the Rain. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without musicals. I love The Muppet Christmas Carol, Holiday Inn and White Christmas, but my favorite of all is Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas, Muppets all. I saw 42nd Street and My Fair Lady on stage in London. I went only because it was London. They were good. I loved the sound of tap shoes in 42nd Street. I bought the record when I got home. Many songs are just the cadences of the dancers wearing tap shoes. That makes me laugh every time I hear it. That’s the list of musicals, far longer than I anticipated. I think Christmas skewed the line. I guess I’ll have to say I like musicals, movie musicals, not so much stage musicals. There could even be more. I’m still surprised with this list.

Yesterday was a sloth day, my first in a while. Today I have to vacuum the cats’ room which will scare the heck out of both of them. I always try to steer them under the bed where I wouldn’t go with the vacuum. Sometimes that works. I go as quickly as I can. I also clean the box and give the cats fresh food and water. They are demanding critters. Seriously, I have been meowed at by Jack who wanted more treats. He was serious.

Henry has changed. He wants attention, and I oblige by scratching and patting him. He’s become a bit of a licker mostly on my hand. He needs to get to know other people, to be socialized. He is a sweet dog, a good boy, when he is with me. He is a big love with a wiggle butt and a whacking long tail. I hope all of this transfers to other people, but his barking at the door is uninviting. We’re working on that.