The morning is just perfect. The sun is shining. A small breeze is blowing. It is only 77°. It is quiet. I hear only insects and birds. My den is dark as the sun doesn’t hit it until afternoon. The house is cool. The coffee is hot. The dogs are asleep in their usual spots, Henry on my left and Nala on my right. I can hear them breathing, the deep breathing which comes in sleep.

My street is small. There are eight houses. Only two of them have the original owners, mine and the house down the street. In three of the houses, the original owners have passed away. The other houses were sold and the owners moved. Some have been sold twice, but each time, good neighbors moved into those houses.

I have a pin hat. It is a baseball cap covered in pins, so many pins there is no room left on the hat. Most of the pins I bought on my travels. Others were given to me, and I haven’t been to every place. Many of the pins carry memories. I have some from Santa Fe, where we, my mother and sisters and I, went for a short holiday. Two of those are Fiesta 2003 pins, one is a Texas pin and another is from the Alamo. I have a First Night 1989 pin. My mother and I did first night in Reading, the next town over from where she lived. One says I saw Sue at the Field Museum. That is from my trip to Chicago when I was Massachusetts assistant principal of the year. At the museum, a man was chipping Sue’s bones to clean them. Sue is the largest, best preserved T-Rex. From that same trip, I have several McDonald’s pins from McDonald University, where McDonald’s hosted and feted us.

I have favorite pins, the ones with so many memories: Costa Rica from a family trip, the Football Hall of fame and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame from a trip with friends in Cleveland of all places, a Boston Marathon pin, San Diego Zoo, Colorado and New Hampshire where family and friends live, a PanAm pin, a World Series pin from when the Sox played Colorado, Iceland, Columbia and so many more. Two of the pins I love more than others. One says Dia de los Muertos and on it are two skeletons wearing sombreros and smiling at each other. The other one is Killer Klowns from Outer Space with some of the scariest of the clowns on it.

I have had no occasion to wear my hat. Maybe I just need to make one.

I choose this song as we play it on our ukuleles.

The weather has changed. It is cooler. The low today will be 63°, amazing. A cool breeze is blowing in from the window behind me, the north window. The day will be mostly cloudy. The sun pops in and out but doesn’t stay. It is a lazy day.

When I fill out forms and my year of birth is requested, I find myself scrolling further and further down the list, but there are many years earlier than mine, a longer scroll, which I find somewhat comforting.

I seldom wear a dress any more. I used to wear one out to dinner on Easter, but I don’t go out anymore so my dress sits in the back of the closet. Actually, I have two dresses, one for Easter/spring and another for fall/winter. I’m covered for any event. I had a teacher in high school who wore suits. She had two. She alternated. When I lived in Ghana, I had to wear dresses every day. I had brought dresses with me as I knew ahead of time I’d have to wear them, but in a short while I had my dresses made from Ghanaian cloth by a seamstress. I’d buy cloth in the market and when I traveled. I have none of those dresses, but I have some from my trips back to Ghana. They were made by a seamstress in the market.

My grandmother was a terrible cook so my father had peculiar ideas about food. Spaghetti was pasta with a can of stewed tomatoes on top. For him garlic was only okay for garlic bread and shrimp scampi. He preferred canned asparagus. What was funny was if he didn’t see you using garlic in a different dish he’d eat the food and not notice. His eyes, not his taste buds, were the final arbiters on whether or not the food was edible. Once I used the same bowl to mash potatoes which I had used for mushrooms. A few bits of the mushroom ended up in the potatoes. My father was not fond of mushrooms. He wanted to know what the bits were in his mashed potatoes. I told him the potatoes came from Eastham. He ate them.

I have a small chore list today. I need to vacuum both upstairs and downstairs. I don’t want to, but I must. The dust balls of dog hair rise into the air when I walk anywhere in the house. It is almost embarrassing. I do sweep every other day downstairs, but the dust is never ending. I tried to brush Henry. You’d have thought he was being abused. He got away from me and ran upstairs. He stayed there for hours.

The first thing I did when I woke up was to turn on the air conditioner. It is already 81°, hibernating weather, and the humidity is 87%, both inside and outside. We are back to clouds and a dark day. We may have thunder showers. I hope so.

My house is quiet except for the sound of the air conditioner. The dogs are having their morning naps, the first of many naps. They lead such hard lives.

I have chores I can do, but I am not in a chores frame of mind, maybe later. The last few days I have been ensconced on the couch with book in hand. I have several books on my iPad Kindle app, but I like the feel of a book, the actual turning of the pages. Yesterday I finished Forrest Gump. It was far different than the movie, but it hooked me fast. The book had been a Christmas present, but it got piled with other books, and I forgot it was there. It was serendipity when I found it on Tuesday.

I remember reading Little Women. It was a Santa gift. Santa always knew what I’d like. That book held me from the first page, and I only put it down at night when my mother demanded I turn out my light and go to sleep. I’d pretend to do just that, but, instead, I’d sneak and read my book under the covers. I’d use my over the headboard light under layers of covers so I could read without detection. I remember how hot it got under the covers. I’d have to come up for air. My favorite character was Jo. She was creative, independent, stubborn and a bit feisty, all attributes I admired. When Beth died, I mourned.

I was so taken by Jo and the March family that I read Little Men and Jo’s Boys, the sequels to Little Women. I still have that present from Santa, the actual book I received. The pages are yellow befitting the age of the book, and the spine has nearly fallen off. The glue didn’t last.

Years back I bought a whole collection of the Jo’s books. There are six of them. When the books arrived, I read all six of them. I was back with the March family.

Sometime early this morning it rained. I was in that hazy time between asleep and awake when I heard the drops. I went back to sleep. It was misty when I woke up, but the rain has since stopped. It is a dreary day. The humidity is high. The morning is dark. It is cloudy. Intermittent rain is predicted. Right now it is 79°.

I took my time this morning. I had no incentive. Even the dogs are quiet. I finished all the puzzles in the paper. That may be my only accomplishment today.

Summer days when I was a kid seemed endless. The light stretched into the night hours. We could go out and play after supper. We just had to stay around the neighborhood, within shouting range. Sometimes we played games in the street like Red Light-Green Light, Simon Says and Red Rover. In Red Rover the strong were early picks. Little kids were tail-end picks.

I remember the street light being a sort of alarm clock. It was time to go inside. The living room lights in all the houses were the first to be lit. They were the front lights behind the picture windows. I always took comfort from those lights shining through.

I was never afraid at night. Even when I was older and walking home in the dark I never worried. Street lights shined on the roads. House lights shined on the sidewalks. Usually I was alone walking home from drill. I wore sneakers so my footsteps were muted. It was quiet. Back then few cars were out at night on the little roads. The loudest sounds were the night insects, the katydids and the crickets. They sang in harmony.

Of late I have become nocturnal. I usually don’t go to bed until after 2. Some nights I go outside with the dogs. They run into the yard, and I stand on the deck. I always feel a little like Ozymandias before the break. My neighborhood has no street lights. A few outside porch lights are lit. I can hear the insects and the frogs singing far different songs. I sometimes see a car, but I never see any other people. I always feel I own the night.

The morning is again delightful. It is 74°, and a slight breeze is blowing. I can hear only the birds. I think they are castigating me as the feeders are empty. The dogs are napping. They are exhausted from going out and then coming back inside for their treats. My father always said he wanted to come back as a pet in any of our houses.

This is a slow week. I have only four uke events including two concerts. The rest of my dance card is empty. I see books and deck time in my near future.

When I was growing up, I never realized my family didn’t have much money. Even living in the project gave no hint of it as the project was surrounded by places filled with wonder. We had the field, wild blueberries, the woods and best of all, we had the swamp. I had friends who also lived in the project. We walked to school together every day and played together in the afternoons. I wore a uniform to school so I didn’t need a wardrobe filled with clothes. I had my play clothes, my cozy clothes and a skirt or two to wear to church. That was more than I really needed. We went to the drive-in almost every Saturday. My grandfather had a pass, and we brought our own treats, candy, popcorn and Zarex in the jug. What I remember most was I never got to see the end of the second movie. My father, a hater of crowds and lines, always left early. During his vacation we mostly did day trips and jaunts to the beach. Thanks to him I am a lover of museums.

I remember the BIG vacation. We went to Niagara Falls. We stayed in motels and even ate at a few restaurants. We went to Madam Tussaud’s wax museum near the falls. I’ve told this dad story before, but it is worth another telling. In the wax museum, my father told the lady in the booth 4 adults and 2 children. She ignored him. He repeated a bit louder than the first time then repeated one more time, quite loud this time. On a bench near the counter were a few old ladies laughing. I think they were waiting for my father. He didn’t realize that the ticket teller was wax. That still makes me laugh. We walked under the falls. We saw the Eisenhower Locks. We slept in a house on the shore of Lake Ontario. My father drove home through the Mohawk Trail. I don’t know how my parents were able to afford that vacation. I just know they made it spectacular.

When I woke up, the morning was pretty with a bright sun and a mostly blue sky. Now, the sky is filled with clouds. The sun has taken a break. No rain is predicted so the clouds are just a backdrop for a while, not a threat. It will be in the mid 70’s today.

Last night I was reading a great book, The Book of Lost Names. In the background Hey, Google was playing 60’s music. More than a few times I stopped reading to listen, to sing along with the familiar songs. Other than the music, my house was quiet. With the mood, the lightning and the music, I was taken right back to my house in Ghana. I closed my eyes and let the memories sit. Every night I read while music played in the background. The living room was lit by one light hanging from the tall ceiling. A couple of chairs with red cushions, a small table and a bookcase were the only furnishings. My cassette player was on the floor by an outlet. A red bulb shined. It had been attached to the adapter by an electrician to suck up the extra voltage. It was a clever solution. I loved the red glow.

When I was a kid, I had one of those record players which was just a turntable. It could only play 78’s. I had red and yellow plastic records. They were yellow Golden Records and red Peter Pan records. Many them were Christmas songs. I still have a few including a record called Egbert the Easter Egg sung by the Sandpipers with music provided by Mitchell Miller and Orchestra. Another is Alexander’s Ragtime Band also played by Mitchell Miller and Orchestra. Both of these records are yellow.

I have been treasure hunting. I have been going through wooden storage boxes in my den and dining room. I have found serving dishes, some really old cardboard candy cups with frilly blue crepe paper and stickers of cowboys and Indians. I found all the movies I was missing, pottery egg nog cups, napkin rings I remember buying in Hungary, a beautiful old linen tablecloth and four lovely hand stitched place mats with matching napkins. It was a successful hunt.

My TV remote has stopped working so I can’t change stations on the TV. Yesterday I watched the Sox on my iPad. I will try today to program my phone to play the TV. I have ordered a new remote. Yes, I did change the batteries!