Keep the Coffee Comimg

The rain started just as I was getting my newspaper. It lasted maybe five minutes, but the weather report says rainy day with a high of 63˚. The sun has been in and out the last couple of minutes. I’m rooting for a sunny day. My psyche needs it.

My covid circle is a dog and two cats though I don’t really think I can count Gwen. She’s never downstairs or at least never when I’m awake. Right now both cats and the dog are upstairs sleeping. My circle has collapsed.

I lose track of the days of the week. Today feels like a Saturday but then so did yesterday.

The only chore left is laundry. The old apple basket I use for laundry is by the cellar door so I have to walk around it on my way to the kitchen. I figure in time I’ll tired of walking around it and do the laundry or I’ll run out of clothes, whichever comes first.

Today I am a mess. My right eye was itchy on Sunday. I rubbed it so much it turned red, and it stayed red into yesterday. Today my eye socket is red, and my eye is almost swollen shut. It hurts when I touch it which is prompting the old chestnut, “Well, don’t touch it!” If it gets worse during the day, I’ll think about getting it checked.

When I was a kid, our family doctor’s house was right beside the entrance to the schoolyard. His son also went to St. Pat’s. He was a year younger, my brother’s age. I remember him because of his ears. They stuck out and elicited comments like can you fly with those ears or, my personal favorite, your car doors are open. One September he came back to school with a bandage around his ears from his chin to his head. He looked like Marley. He had had surgery to pull back his ears. He couldn’t fly after that. That’s one of my odd memories.

Yesterday I finished what I had set out to do, nothing. I consolidated trash into a single bag for a future dump run and considered myself well accomplished. The house is clean so today my attentions can be elsewhere. I will water plants and browse through cookbooks for spectacular fall recipes.

When I was in grammar school, my desk top lifted so I able to keep all my stuff neat. Pencils, a ruler, crayons, and workbooks, each had a certain spot inside my desk. The biggest book inside my desk was a reader filled with stories, questions about each story and possible essays. Arithmetic was mostly work sheets and board work. We had geography and history books. We had art and music, no books. For music we sang while a classmate played the keyboard. The nun gave us the starting note from her pitch pipe, and we sang while she directed us. I have no idea what she was doing. I don’t think she did either though she was good with the pitch pipe. Art was mostly whatever though I do remember making a puppet out of paper mâché, giving it horns and painting it red like the devil. It was one of the best things I ever made.

I have a small, old school desk in the kitchen. On the top is where the microwave sits, and the underneath, usually for books and such, has the holiday kitchen towels. The chair holds the day to day towels. The top of the microwave holds my African cookbook collection. I bought the desk and chair at a church fair many years ago. It was a lucky find.

Today is sunny and cloudy and sunny again. The air has a chill even though it is 61˚, the high for the day. Tonight will get down to the 40’s. Both my doors are open to the sun. Henry loves watching out the front. I have no idea what holds his attention. My street is a quiet one, but I do know when the mailman comes.

Read yesterday’s description of the weather from Coffee, and you’ll find it works for today too. My house was cold when I woke up. The sun is shining yada yada yada.

I have no ambition, but my car is full of trash so I haven’t any choice but to go to the dump today as it is closed the next two days. But then again…

I have ordered breakfast to be delivered, eggs Benedict with home fries and what looked like a tomato flower. I’m tracking the driver, and he is on the way here having already picked up my breakfast. I have never before ordered a breakfast delivered, but I did mention my lack of ambition today.

In honor of Halloween, I am wearing my bony hand earrings and watching old horror movies. I asked my remote to find Halloween movies, and it did, movies even I won’t watch. The first was Attack of the Killer Donuts which now joins tomatoes on the killer food group list. Underneath this movie was a thumbnail of movies other people also watched besides the killer donuts. I was curious. I am no longer curious. The list included a movie called The Thingy: Confessions of a Teenage Placenta. It was described as, “The heartbreaking story of a living placenta that is raised as a human, a christian, a soldier.” It is a Belgian movie listed on IMDB as tragedy, comedy and horror. It sounds gross and strange so I’ll pass; instead, I am watching The Mummy, the original with Boris Karloff. I watch it every Halloween season along with Frankenstein, Dracula and The Wolfman, my favorite horror movies from the 1930’s. They used to scare me when I was a kid, and I loved them for that. It has been a long time since they’ve scared me, but it doesn’t matter. I still love them anyway. The mummy is walking.

Breakfast is moving fast on the mid-cape.

Today was a mirror under the nose day. It was close to noon before I dragged myself out of bed. I went to bed close to two so I slept well and long. I did wake up once because I heard the rain. It was pouring.

Today is a perfect fall in New England day. The sun is shining from a deep blue sky. The wind is blowing. It is chilly, only in the 50’s, and it won’t get much warmer this afternoon, but it feels just right.

Henry has been in and out all morning. He goes out. I let him in. After he is done with outside, he patiently waits peering through the dog door hoping to see me. Sometimes I just wait hoping he’ll come in by himself. I know he can; however, today is not one of those days. I have to go let him in the house.

Early voting started here today. I voted early the last time. This time it was by mail. I checked on line, and my ballot is safe, and it counts!! I never miss voting. I remember registering to vote the day after my twenty-first birthday. 1968 was my first presidential election vote. I voted for Hubert Humphrey. Much later, during Watergate, my sister, my cousin and I were waiting in line to try to get seats inside at the hearing. Senator Humphrey walked by me while I was in line, and I got his autograph. The only paper I had was a copy of The Foundation Trilogy by Isaac Asimov. The senator signed it. I have the book upstairs.

My father was a democrat then he became a republican. He voted for Nixon both times. We all, my brother, sisters and I, did not vote for Nixon. My father made fun of us when McGovern was so soundly defeated. We made fun of him when Nixon got caught and resigned. My father said Nixon was innocent. We all eavesdrop.

I have two pins I wore during the 1972 campaign. Both say Returned Peace Corps/Vista for McGovern-Shriver. They are the last pins I collected. My frame is filled.

When I woke up, the sun was shining. The day looked pretty, and it felt warm when I opened the door for Henry. Now, it’s cloudy, and the house is dark, a cozy dark, a buttoned up, comfortable dark.

I remember walking home from school one rainy afternoon when I was a kid and getting so soaking wet even my shoes bubbled. When I got in the door, I shed the wet wear, went upstairs, got cozy and jumped into bed, book in hand. I nestled under the covers, turned on the bed lamp and began to read. As I was lying there, I felt warm and protected. This morning, the memory of that so long ago moment jumped out of my memory drawer and gave me cause to smile. 

The storm doors went on yesterday. I know there will be warm days still, but the nights get chilly, and I leave the back inside door open for Henry. He just goes out still though he does come in when it suits him, like when he wanted to eat the FedEx guy. I put Henry out to spare the guy Henry’s mad barking and bared teeth, but Henry ran in the door. It suited him.

I found the weather description a bit weird in the Cape Times. It said for Today: A shower in the morning then a little rain. For Tonight: Periods of rain becoming heavy. What I want to know is when does Today become Tonight.

Fall, my favorite of all the seasons, is here. The days are warm. The nights are chilly. The house is cold in the morning. Strong breezes blow the leaves up the sides of the street, and they turn and twist and look a bit like tumblers on a mat. The sun comes and goes. Its sharp light flickers through branches, some already naked of leaves.

I want to cheer and throw confetti to welcome fall officially, but, instead, weather permitting, I’ll sit on the deck, light the fire in my chiminea and watch the smoke curl into the sky. I’ll warm myself by the fire, and the smell of burning wood will stay with me, on my clothes and in my memories. 

Today is warm, sunny and perfectly lovely. I have the back door open to sweeten the air. Such warm days are getting rare so I want all of it. Later, I need to fill the bird feeders, and I’ll play the deck game with Henry, up one set of stairs then chased down the other set. The best part of this game is Henry does all the running.

When I was a kid, I loved walking to school in the fall. I’d shuffle my feet and kick up the leaves. Sometimes I walked on the sidewalk while other times I’d walk in the gutter. The leaves were everywhere. I remember they were yellow.

My schoolyard was big. On Sundays it was the church parking lot. There were two entrances which became exits when mass was over. There was a third way out, but it was narrow like a driveway and ran between the school and a short fence separating us from the neighbors. The school’s other side door opened onto that little road. I’d run out that door at the end of school, and because most every one else used the other door, I was the quickest and the first.

Our schoolyard had basketball hoops. Only the boys could use them. I played basketball for the parish CYO team, but I wasn’t allowed to play in my schoolyard.

When I was in the fifth grade, we moved, in the early spring, to the new school. My classroom was on the bottom floor at the end of the new school adjacent to the rectory and the old school. It faced the schoolyard. Once in a while, when I go back to my hometown, I drive by the new school. The last time there I rode pass the school’s front door, on the schoolyard/parking lot side, which we always called the back. Nothing appears to have changed in all these years except there is really no new school. It is 63 years old now.

The rain started a bit ago. I can hear it hitting the overhang. The weather report is for continuing rain most of the day with the high in the low 60’s. I have the door open for Henry, and I can feel the damp chill.

Nothing holds my attention today. I have seen the first five or ten minutes of several movies and have yet to find one to watch. I’ve been through Prime, YouTube and now I’m scrolling through Netflix. I’ve read one half of a newspaper. I straightened the chairs in the dining room and polished the counter. I went through and added food to my Never List on Imperfect Foods. That was the last thing I did. I have now run out of busy work.

I’ve noticed my TV remote never hears my voice the first time I speak into it every day. That’s odd.

I have an aerogram I sent to a friend four months before the end of my service in Ghana. I’m going to quote some. “I’m beginning to realize how damn lucky I have been. This whole wonderful experience has been mind blowing. All of a sudden, you’re awake to sounds, sights, smells and feelings that you never knew existed before, and it’s sort of the experience that you can never forget because you’ve tried to absorb every piece, every particle that you can so it can all be brought back if it ever begins to dim. Already I am getting nostalgic, and I haven’t even left yet.”

Of my friends Bill and Peg, Bill once told me not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about Ghana. When the three of us went back together, I loved their joy the most. I could see it on their faces. I’m sure they could see it on mine. It was our homecoming of sorts. Some of it was new but enough of it was old. I could eat jollof rice every night, even here.

My electricity went off for about a minute. The lights came back quickly but not the phone, TV or the internet. I didn’t care. I kept typing. My computer had morphed into a typewriter, a manual typewriter. The computer came back next. The TV was last. That’s okay. I still haven’t found anything to watch.

Henry is back home after his visit to the vet’s. He is sleeping away his trauma on the couch. The vet offered three possibilities for the red around Henry’s eyes: allergies, nerves or mites. It seems that there are mites which are attracted to the follicles around a dog’s eyes. I have a lotion to put on the red, and I ordered Nexgard which the vet said will also kill the mites. Poor Henry was shaking before we even left the house, but he did well. The big news is while we were in the car waiting for Henry’s turn to go inside he stuck his head out the window. That is the very first time.

Today is damp and cold. It rained for a few minutes when I was out with Henry, and the weather report says more rain later with a high of 55˚. When I look out the den window, I can see the oak branches being tossed by the wind. I will stay close to hearth and home.

My freezer is filled with food. Most afternoons I open it, look at what I can see in front then I close it. Though the food looks good, I just don’t want to cook. The other night I had my weekly delivery. Dinner was a meatball with cheese in tomato sauce sub with French fries. It was delicious starting with the bread.

Lately I have been watching really bad serials like Don Winslow of the Navy. I have long been a fan of serials. It started when I was a kid. Science fiction serials used to be on Saturday mornings, those glorious mornings once filled with all sorts of kid shows. I remember watching The Phantom Empire starring Gene Autry. It was in black and white but that didn’t matter. I loved it. It was old even when I was a kid, from 1935. Zombies of the Stratosphere released in 1952 was so good (an adjective loosely used here) I bought it. Leonard Nimoy was one of the Martians.

When I was around nine or ten, I had a real uniform and a uniform of sorts. The real uniform was the one I had to wear to school. I never questioned uniforms. That’s what I wore from beginning to end. My play clothes were their own sort of uniform. On Saturdays I pretty much wore the same thing every weekend. I remember girls’ jeans with no fly in front but a zipper in a side pocket. Mine were lined in flannel. I wore sneakers, probably white, with socks. My blouse was long sleeved, maybe pink or white, and, if I went outside, I wore a light jacket or a cardigan. I remember feeling warm enough.

Today is another lovely fall day with lots of sun, a blue sky and an every now and then breeze. It is only 62˚ but the sunlight makes it feel warmer. I am housebound today. Yesterday I did something to my back so I am a question mark literally and figuratively this morning.

I have been ordering Christmas presents and stocking stuffers. One package, filled with neat and interesting socks, came in the other day. It was a buy four get a surprise free. Four was exactly what I needed. Now, here is where the Twilight Zone music should start. My surprise, the free pair of socks, had sloths all over them. How was that not destiny?

If I were to list favorite places, excluding Ghana, Portugal would be on it. That trip with my mother and father is the pinnacle. Second on the list, nudging Portugal, is the trip with my parents and my sister to Belgium and Holland and a weekend at the end in London. Morocco is also way up on the list as are places in South America. I think I should work on places I didn’t like. That list would be very small.

Tablecloths don’t seem popular any more. When I was a kid, my mother, on most holidays, always started decorating the table with a festive tablecloth, befitting the season of course. The Christmas one was beautiful with green and red, with holly bushes filled with berries. Harkening back to my mother, I have tablecloths I use on holidays and special occasion. They always make the table more festive. I have a small collection of tablecloths mostly from the fifties. They don’t fit my table, but that’s not why I bought them. I recognized the angels, the Santas and the snowmen. It was as if they had been drawn from my memories.

Henry goes to the vet’s tomorrow to have his wonky eye checked. I haven’t told him yet.

Oh what a beautiful morning! The sun is shining. It is warm, open the doors and windows warm. The breeze rustles the leaves, and I can hear them through the open window. Today is a stay at home day. I have a few things to do around the house, including the dreaded laundry.

I was hoping to get an appointment at the vets for Henry. The sockets around his eyes have been red. At his yearly appointment a few weeks back, I asked the vet, and she said that it is harmless, which it has been until yesterday. Now, both sockets look wonky, one looking scratched though I haven’t caught him at it. The vets said I could bring him today as an emergency, only $150.00 extra. I made an appointment for Monday but will take him to the emergency vet if I have to today or tomorrow. The sockets look better than they did last night.

I love the color in the basket on my front steps. The pumpkin is perfect with and a long stem and no flaws. It is surrounded by gourds in yellow, green and orange. I also put my harvest flag in the holder on the tree, and I put the small flag beside the steps.

When I was a kid, I loved to carve pumpkins. It was such fun to stick my hand into the pumpkin’s head and pull out the seeds and the slimy orange guts. My mother was ever vigilant to make sure we didn’t throw the guts at each other. That was a major disappointment. When we were done, our pumpkins pretty much looked alike with the triangular eyes and noses. I remember trying to cut out the mouth carefully to leave teeth. I wasn’t very good at that. Either the poor pumpkin had one tooth or none. I can only hope my skills have improved with age as I’m going too carve a pumpkin for myself this Halloween. I’ll hit Agway and Hart Farms tomorrow for a couple of pumpkins and some fall flowers. The only caveat is I have to restrain myself or I’ll have a yard filled pumpkins and flowers. I am a sucker for fall.