Keep the Coffee Comimg

My air conditioner is blasting. The humidity is back. It started last night. Around 2, I went out with Henry. The air was thick with moisture. Even that deep into the night, it was still hot, in the low 70’s. I knew today didn’t have a chance.

Yesterday it rained. At first the rain was just a mist, spitting rain my mother used to call it, then it poured. This morning the rain returned, a small rain at first but then the rain got heavier. Right now we’re back to spitting rain.

Other than my yesterday’s Amazon order, all my on-line grocery deliveries are complete for now. I’ve got a fridge full of veggies. The fruit is in a bowl on the table. The rolls are on the counter. The rolls are different shapes. The small ones are round, the thin ones long. Besides my coffee this morning, I had long roll toast with honey butter.

I voted by mail in the state primary. I will do the same for the presidential election. I will not go to the police station, my polling place, despite the president telling us we need to go to the polls to verify our mail-in ballot had been received. Has he not heard of the internet? I checked on-line and my ballot had been received and accepted. I voted once.

I love to vote. I still remember my first time voting. It was by absentee ballot when I was a senior in college. The second time was also by absentee ballot when I lived in Ghana. My first time voting was for the 1968 presidential election. My candidate lost. The next time I voted was during the 1970 election. The ballot got to Ghana about a month after the election. I completed it and sent it anyway. I’m not one to skirt my obligations.

My house is getting cleaned. The vacuuming is keeping Henry at bay. I suspect the cats are under a bed as they too hate the sound of the vacuum.

I have a dog and the vacuum story. My mother was babysitting Shauna, my first boxer, at her house. Shauna used to attack the vacuum with her paws. She’d try to kill it but was never successful. This one time she was barking and attacking the vacuum. My mother went to move it, and it was then that somehow Shauna’s tongue was sucked up the vacuum. My mother immediately turned off the suck your dog’s tongue machine. Shauna’s tongue was none the worse for the experience, buy my poor mother took a while to calm down. After that, Shauna still attacked vacuums but from further away.

The weather is amazingly beautiful. Today is the second cool day in a row. It is 72˚. The high will only be 74˚. The low will be 63˚. It was that chilly during the night. I woke up cold around four. Henry had pulled the blanket off when he joined me in bed. I pulled it back, nestled underneath and fell back to sleep. Henry sighed.

I can always tell how close it is until my couple comes to clean. I start to see clumps of white Henry fur combined with black Jack fur into monstrous balls of fur along the floorboards. I can never just walk from one place to another. I have to clean up fur as I move. Once that starts, I know it’s cleaning time.

Yesterday I was out and about, but my dance card is empty for today so I’ll just hang. I’ve been wandering the house the last couple of days trying to straighten up, bring boxes and bags to the car and put clothes in the eaves. I ordered a deck box for the new outside cushions and pillows which have been stored still in their boxes in my dining room. At first I hated them there. They put crimps in my sensibilities. I saw them every time I went to the kitchen and every time I let Henry inside the house, but after a while, I stopped noticing, weird for me as I’m the sort who straightens pictures in the doctor’s office. Yesterday, wending around the boxes to water the dining room plants, was the end, the last straw. The new deck box will arrive on Friday.

I went through the fridge clearing out what used to be vegetables. I replaced them with more vegetables. Maybe I should keep a list so I’ll know what’s what. The long one is celery.

Flowers are still blooming in my front garden, and this morning, I noticed the white flowers of the clematis have started to bloom. Soon enough the entire front fence and up the trunk of the pine tree beside the garden will turn white with blooming flowers. I always sort of think this as Mother Nature’s brilliant last hurrah.

The morning is only 68˚. All my windows and doors are open. Henry loves it. He gets to stand at the front door and bark. I love it too but without the barking.

The morning is quiet. I don’t know where the birds are. Maybe they are hunting for feeders of plenty as mine are empty. I will remedy that this afternoon.

The morning is lovely with a bright sun and a blue and white sky. The leaves at the end of the branches barely flutter.

When I travel, I love the mornings best. I wake early, grab a cup of coffee and wander. I’ve watch delivery vans unload and people hurry to work. I’ve followed the aroma of fresh bread to bakeries and bought my fill. I’ve felt the cities coming alive. To me, they feel their friendliest in the morning.

When I was a kid, I believed in ghosts and creatures of the night. I thought under my bed was the best hiding place though my older self knew better. Under the bed was the first place they’d look. I never roamed at night after the street lights came on, but I listened to windows rattling and winds howling. My father’s stories of men with hooks made scratching noises sound ominous and threatening.

When I was older, I walked a lot. I walked just about everywhere. Sometimes I walked home at night from a friend’s house or from drill practice. I’d walk as far as I could with friends then by myself for the rest of the walk. I wasn’t afraid, but I did listen for footsteps behind me. Nothing wrong with being alert.

When I woke up, my house was hot so I turned on the AC to cool it down. Outside is 77˚, already close to the expected high of 79˚. The breeze is a good one so I’m thinking deck time later this afternoon.

When I was a kid, the books I read were mostly classics. When I got a bit older, I moved into mysteries. I’m still there. My iPad is filled with books, mysteries, all waiting to be read. I get to start a new book today. It’s a banner day!

I have sandals for summer, a pair of shoes for winter and wool clog slippers for around the house and for when I do outside errands in the colder weather. I have a winter coat, but I usually just wear my sweatshirt. All of my school clothes are no longer taking up room in my closet, but my cozies are. They are my everyday clothes if I bother to get dressed. I do love my flannel shirts.

When I was in Ghana, I had to wear a dress or a skirt every day. They were proper clothes for women, but I knew that going in from the information Peace Corps had sent so I packed summer dresses and blouses and skirts. I had one pair of shorts and a Merrimack t-shirt for wearing in the house, never outside. I brought two pairs of sandals. One didn’t last long. The other pair lasted the whole time needing only new soles during year two.

I had dresses made while I was there. I’d shop in the cloth market and buy enough for a new dress, usually about three yards. One of the teacher’s wives was my seamstress. She charged a few cedis, about 3 dollars. By the end of the two years, all my dresses were made from Ghanaian cloth. When I went back the first time, I had a couple of shirts made. Women could wear pants by then so shirts were a perfect choice. In Bolga, my students gave me the gift of a new Ghanaian dress. Later, on another trip, I was given a traditional dress of three matching parts: the top, skirt and a cloth to wrap around. On my last trip, we, Peg and I, had tablecloths made, and we bought cloth, lots of Ghanaian cloth, such beautiful cloth. Friends and family got placemats and napkins that Christmas from me.

I have no plans for today, not even the tiniest chore. I still have to finish the Sunday papers and find my next new book. A murder? A visit to Xanth? Witches cavorting with vampires? The choices are almost endless.

Today is dreary, dark and muggy, a thick day. The wind comes and goes. It rained earlier for a minute or two, but the sky is still cloudy so maybe the rain’ll be back. I hope so.

My mood changes which is odd because nothing else around me changes. Some days I’m quite happy with my lot while other days I moan and curse my fate. Today, despite the dark and gloom, is a good day. I feel a bit buoyant.

I remember a school trip to the Museum of Science when I was a kid. Each of us had a list of questions, and we were to hunt for the answers in the exhibits. I had an idea. I got my friends together, and we divided the list among us. Each of us had maybe 4 or 5 questions. At the end, we got together and shared our answers. We all did exceptionally well.

Today is roast the potatoes day, a special day, a day to be celebrated before the potatoes develop unseemly eyes. I have some sweet potatoes and a few Yukon Gold. I bought some linguica to add to the sweet potatoes in a hash dish for breakfast or maybe for lunch considering how late I usually sleep. It is waiting in the freezer. The Yukon Gold will become home fries. If I add eggs and bacon to them, I’ll have the perfect breakfast.

Today is bad science fiction movie day. I have plenty of popcorn, and I have some chocolate chips so you know where I’m going with this. It is a treat to get me through movies like Earth vs. The Spider from 1958 and in glorious black and white. The next movie will be Wrestling Women Versus the Aztec Mummy. I just noticed Dead Space from 1991. That movie strikes a little too close to home: “Intergalactic horror awaits the crew of a Saturn space station hoping for a cure as a deadly virus begins to attack them one by one.” I think I’m going back to the Wrestling Women.

Yesterday it rained, a good rain though not a long rain. Today is humid and the clouds come and go which means the sun does the same. The paper said a chance of rain tonight. I’m skeptical.

The clematis on my front fence is loaded with buds. Its leaves are even climbing the pine tree. When the flowers bloom, the fence will be covered in white, a dramatic flourish to the end of summer.

Two deliveries this morning, one was all produce while the other had meat, including hot dogs, and a couple of veggies, some sweet potatoes, a loaf of bread and hummus. There were cookies, yup, chocolate chip cookies which I am now eating then I’ll hide the rest of them. Given my memory of late, I’ll forget. It will be a surprise when I find them.

I’ll fill the feeders today. I had a delivery of a bag of cayenne so I can sprinkle it on the seeds. Take that, spawns of Satan!!.

I used to feel guilty when I did nothing all day, but I am pleased to say I am over that now. A sloth day is a day well spent.

When I was a kid, with the bottles of white milk, one bottle of chocolate milk was also delivered every week. We were told to drink it in combination with the white milk so the chocolate would last longer. My mother never told us the ratio between the two. I think we decided it was 3/4-1/4. The chocolate milk had a short shelf span, even shorter than the Oreo’s.

The day is dark. The air is so thick nothing moves. Earlier, when I got my newspapers, it was spitting rain. A thunder storm is predicted late this afternoon. I’m going nowhere.

The trash is gone, and the laundry is done. I have been organizing upstairs. Throw pillows need to be stored in the eaves. The Christmas presents I’ve bought need to be sorted into bags. I just need the bags. I also need a big bin for the deck, for the storage of the new cushions sitting in boxes in the dining room. They are summer still wrapped.

When I was a kid, I knew all the signs. I knew when it was getting close to going back to school. The days got shorter. The street lights came on earlier so I felt gypped when we had to go inside, but I knew the clock didn’t enter into the end of the day. The street light was supreme. Supper time didn’t change so we watched TV until my mother called us to eat. I remember sitting at the small kitchen table craning my neck so I could still see TV.

I felt excited about going back to school. Everything was sort of new. My mother always bought special desserts for our lunchboxes that first week. Usually it was something from Hostess. I leaned toward the cupcakes. Our sandwiches were often bologna, my personal favorite. Friday was tuna fish, my least favorite, or egg salad. My mother made good lunches.

I’m at the point in the month when my larder is getting empty. I have no bread. How can I sustain my life? I don’t even have hot dogs or hamburger. I suppose I can go through the freezer and pull a few things out for later, but who will cook them? I have no house staff.

We’re behind closed doors again. It is already 83˚ and could get as high as 88˚. I’m tired of pretty days which burn off your first layer of skin.

I’m still bored. Even Henry is a bit restless. He is barking at outside noises and wandering the house. When he wants to go out, I open the door and stand by and wait. He hurries down the stairs and runs to the very same tree he always uses. The spot never dries.

I’m watching a shark movie, There are nine eating machines trolling the Mississippi River looking for dinner, several courses it seems. Count among the victims an actor who starred in shark movies, the sheriff, two contentious townsmen, a woman whose head pops up out of the water still sporting sunglasses and a cloth headband and assorted fishermen stupid enough to out be on the water in row boats.

Every summer when I was in college, I worked at the post office in Hyannis. It was good money and the work was simple. The only requirement was you had to know how to read. One of the guys used to hide alcohol in the trash bin beside the board he was working. He didn’t smell all that great either. Nobody wanted to work near him. I too said no. The foreman upped the ante. He said I could have more frequent and longer breaks and a longer lunch time. I said I’d give it a try. As to why Pete still worked there had something to do with his brother being postmaster. I lasted all summer with Pete. I loved all those breaks.

I still don’t know what I’ll do today. I’m thinking a late afternoon jaunt to the dump then animal food shopping at Agway. Could my day get more exciting?

The air conditioner is blasting again. I turned it off for a bit, but the house got hot quickly so I’m back in the dark behind closed windows and doors while the AC does its work.

I’m in a mood today, a blah sort of mood. I am sitting on the couch not wanting to move. My laundry is done but still in the cellar. The trash is in the car. Both can sit for a while though the trash probably has a short shelf life.

When I was a kid, I knew certain truths. Always wear clean underwear just in case. If you don’t lick your ice cream fast enough, it will melt down the cone to your hand. Pushing vegetables around the plate doesn’t hide them. School clothes are only for school and church clothes for church, no mixing and matching allowed. Sit in the back at the Saturday matinee, the best place to avoid flying JuJu Beads. The best pews in church are in the back, all the better for a quick exit. You better have something to cry about or else. Never step on a crack, not even to test the theory about your mother’s back. There were more but these are the biggies, the ones often repeated. My mother was the clean underwear. My father was the stop crying or else. He was pretty clear on that.

Henry has been barking all morning. He is driving me crazy. I keep looking only to find nothing. I show Henry, but he is not convinced.

I have two hot dogs and two brioche hot dog rolls left. My sisters make fun of me, but I do like hot dogs. My latest are from the organic grocer. They are tasty especially tucked into a toasted brioche roll loaded from the top.

Through the window, the day looks lovely, but once I open the door, I can feel the heat. There is a possibility of thunder showers. I will cross my fingers and hope.

The windows are shut and the doors are closed. The AC is blasting. The house is cold. Outside looks sunny and warm. The high will be 80˚ today. That sounds reasonable.

During the election of 1960, I found politics. John F. Kennedy was my senator. He was also a Catholic, another reason the election piqued my interest. Critics claimed the pope would take over if Kennedy were elected. He was elected, and the pope stayed in Rome. Kennedy was the first and so far the only Catholic elected president. Biden could be the second. I am mentioning this because I heard a discussion on MSNBC about Joe Biden and his religion. The contention, though, was gone.

My days are all pretty much alike. I do have errands, but mostly I’m home with the cats and the dog, all of whom who tolerate me. I used to hate finishing the day before I’d crossed off every to- do item on my list, but that has passed. Now I just move the item to the next day’s list until it finally fades away, lost to disinterest. I’m finally okay with that.

I don’t get dressed most days. I shower and change from one casual outfit to another. I do keep some outside clothes down here for a quick change just in case, but they are gathering dust. Miss Haversham, watch out!

I save all sorts of recipes from on-line, from cooking magazines and Wednesday’s newspapers. In my mind’s eye I can see the dishes in all their glory on the table while my guests ooh and ahh and clamor for the recipes. All I’m missing are the guests, the cooked food and the oohing and ahing.

As for today, I still have to read the Sunday papers. I’ll take a shower later and water the outside plants while I’m there. I’m thinking hot dogs for dinner. That’s it, a full day in the time of a pandemic.