The weather day by day doesn’t change. The clouds just hang around. It is a little warmer but in winter a little warmer only means one less layer. I am in my cozy clothes and have even added socks to my ensemble. The air is still.

Lately I have been watching disaster movies. The Earth has been threatened by aliens, the sun, snow and cold, meteors, zombies and various monsters, even dinosaurs. Some of the movies are truly bad. Sometimes I watch all the way through other times I give up. The first ten minutes are more than enough. I still wonder why anyone would pay to have such bad movies made. In most of them I don’t know any of the actors. I understand why they are in the movie. Work is work and someone might just be discovered. I wish, though, they had thought about the poor audience.

When I was in Ghana, this was the worst time of year for weather. It wasn’t winter, but it was harmattan, desert like weather. The days were so hot that when I’d sit in a chair in my living room (hall to Ghanaians), I always left my body imprint. The wind blew dust everywhere making the air hazy and blocking the sun. I’d shower at night and feel cool for the first time all day as my shower only had cold water. In late February the harmattan would begin to change. The days were hot and humid, the worse combination, and we moved closer to the start of the rainy season, my favorite season.

The Super Bowl is on tonight though I figure I really didn’t need to remind anyone. My Patriots play in yet another championship. I know people hate them, and I understand. I spend a lot of years hating the Yankees. My friends and I are getting together to watch the game. Yelling and moaning and cheering are so much better when you’re in a crowd, even a crowd of three.

“Faithful followers, there is no shadow of me and a beautiful spring it shall be,” predicted Punxsutawney Phil this morning, but I’m skeptical as he is only correct 40% of the time. Come on, Phil. Didn’t you notice how cold it is when you stuck your nose outside?

Today is cloudy and a little warmer than the last few days so I have to bite the bullet and go out do a bit of shopping. I have only a small list, but I have to go to three or four stores.

Henry’s fur is all over the floor again. You can chart his route by following the line of dust. It goes from the couch, down the hall to the backdoor. I’m going to vacuum it today. I’m also going to bring my laundry basket downstairs. It is full.

When I was a kid, I would have welcomed today, a warmer than it has been Saturday. If the movie looked good, I’d go to the matinee. If not, I’d ride my bike around town, walk the tracks or even go ice skating at Recreation Park where the town erected a rink every winter. The DPW filled it with water which wasn’t very deep so the rink froze quickly. At the end of the day they’d spray the rink again so the ice would be cleared of all the skate ruts and marks, sort of a do it yourself Zamboni. I wasn’t a very good skater, but I could go backwards a bit. I’d skate until my feet started to hurt.

Quite a few years ago, I dragged my skates out of storage and went with friends to the rink in Hyannis. I could still skate, but it didn’t take long for my feet to start to hurt. I spent most of the time drinking hot cocoa and watching the skaters. I still have my skates, but I used them as a Christmas decoration. I sling them over my wooden sled. I am ten again.

The air is perfectly still, the sky partly cloudy, and it’s cold but warmer than yesterday. I hurried to get my papers and yesterday’s mail then lingered over cups of coffee while I read the two papers. The sky got cloudy.

I do have a small shopping list, but I’m debating whether today or tomorrow when it will be warmer still. Part of the reason to stay inside is the cold, but I do admit that that the bigger part is pure laziness. I’d have to get dressed, out of my cozies into my outside clothes. That seems a daunting task.

Henry has finally figured out coming in dog door, but he still needs encouragement before he goes out the door. He runs down the hall and turns to look at me. I say go, and he goes a few feet then turns around again. When he finally gets to the door, he goes outside. Sometimes he’s outside so long I get nervous and go check on him. He always comes running.

Lately I have been watching really old television on Best TV Ever. This morning I watched the very first Dragnet when it wasn’t even Dragnet but rather Badge 714. The station is filled with black and white programs dating back to the early 50’s. Some I remember, many I don’t. Robin Hood is one of the programs. I remember the arrow and Richard Greene as Robin Hood.

Our TV was in a wooden console with doors that covered the screen. The console was huge. The TV screen was small. Knobs turned the TV on and off. In the back were tubes. The rabbit ears antenna sat on top of the console. Snow was common, on the screen, not the yard. One of us would play around with the antenna hoping to find the sweet spot where the snow disappeared. Sometimes we didn’t, but we watched anyway. I remember the first time I stayed awake long enough to watch the TV station sign off for the night with the Star Spangled Banner. I even watched the Indian test pattern for a while. It was boring, but I was excited staying up so late, later then the TV.

From the window, the morning looks lovely with a bright sun and a totally blue sky. I blithely went to get the papers only to be hit with air as cold as it has been all winter. I gasped. I’m not leaving the house today. My errand list can wait. I have all I need including Mint Oreos, cold cuts and cheese. My larder runneth over.

I have found the perfect movie for today, a really bad movie, but still perfect, 100 Below Zero. CGI snow covers Paris as an ash cloud heads to the city causing a new ice age in its wake. The top of the Eiffel Tower just fell. I’d best stop for a bit to get back to the movie before I miss any of the exciting action. Will our heroes survive?

When I was a kid, they never called off school because of cold, only snow. On the coldest days my mother dressed us much like Randy in A Christmas Story except we wore layers, not a snow suit. I had to wear a skirt to school so my mother made me wear snow pants under the skirt. Under the snow pants I wore long underwear, pink long underwear, which came to my knees, just above the skirt hem. I wore knee socks, a sweater, my winter coat, mittens, a hat and a scarf. Walking to school, we all looked the same so none of us were distinguishable.

Yesterday I went through all the Christmas presents I bought on sale for next Christmas and put them in individually labeled decorative bags, also bought on sale. I made a list of all the names and put checks under each name for the small gifts, and I listed the bigger ones. The sorting took a while, but I’m glad its done. I swear to keep the list updated, but I know I won’t.

It is almost laundry day. A pile sits in the laundry basket in my bedroom, but before it is moved, I have to change my bed then add the old sheets to the basket then haul it downstairs next to the cellar door where it will sit until I get tired of looking at it. That takes a long time.

Today is cloudy but then again so were Sunday and Saturday and so many other days I’ve lost count. The sun has become a rare phenomenon. I’m staying inside today in my most comfortable clothes. My routine has become one day out and about and the next day cozy at home.

When I was a kid and just home from school, I had to take off my school clothes and put on my play clothes. If I didn’t, my mother would hound me until I did. My school uniform was a white blouse, a blue skirt and a blue tie, the sort cowboys wore to the Saturday dance. It was a clip on. It was ugly.

I continue my cleaning frenzy. Yesterday it was the dining room. Today will be the kitchen. I’m saving the den for last as it is the dustiest, and I hate facing all that dust. Maybe I’ll clean in spurts. I noticed the den has dog hair on the floor in clumps. It didn’t take long. It was last vacuumed on Thursday.

My life is uncomplicated. It is as easy as I can make it. Whatever chore I can foist off, I do. That leaves me with going to the dump, changing my bed, doing laundry and spot cleaning in between visits from my cleaning couple. I could arrange for trash pick-up, but it is more expensive than the dump fee, and anyway, I only go every other week so it’s no big deal. When I meet people I haven’t seen in a while, they always ask if I’m enjoying retirement. I grin about as wide as I can.

I actually have a few things which need to be ironed. They are piled on a chair in the kitchen and are hidden by dish towels. Every now and then I see the pile and think it’s time to iron but, luckily, that thought passes.

No question about it, winter is still here. The last few days were a ruse, a tease. Arctic cold is back again. My heat blasts constantly. I’m wearing a sweatshirt so well worn it is unfit for public view. I’ve added socks to my ensemble. They join flannel around the house pants and a t-shirt under my sweatshirt. It is not an attractive outfit.

When I was a kid, I wore pajamas to bed. I had slipper socks to keep my feet warm. Radiators spewed intermittent heat. The house would get hot and then cold. I could hear the steam from the radiator. It always sounded like a locomotive to me. It just needed a whistle.

When I was a kid, we’d take a bus from uptown to the subway station, Sullivan Square, and then ride the train, the MTA, to Boston. I remember kneeling on the seat and looking out the window. Before every ride we were quizzed about the rules: stay together, and if we get separated, go to the next station and wait. When I was older, my friends and I would take the train into Boston. I remember seeing Cleopatra at The Music Hall, now The Wang. Sometimes on a Saturday we’d go to Boston and just roam the city.

One of my favorite trains was in Ghana. I’d ride it as often as I could. I’d go from the Accra station to Tafo to visit my friends then continue on to Kumasi where the rails ended. I always went first class, a fairly cheap ticket, and usually had a compartment to myself. Once I rode from Kumasi to Takoradi on a sleeper train. It was my favorite ride of all.

On my trips to Europe, I took trains if I could. They were far more comfortable than buses, and the night trains meant I didn’t have to stay at a hotel. I’d look out the windows at people in their houses. I’d sometimes see families eating dinner at the table by the windows. I’d fall asleep to the click clack of the wheels.

If I were rich, I’d have a train car all my own, and I’d ride all over the country with my friends. The car would have a kitchen, comfortable bunks and a bar. The windows would be huge.

When I went to get the papers, the morning was chilly but not cold. It had a crispness almost like an early spring morning. I squinted in the bright sun. The sky is blue with puffy white clouds. The day is pretty.

When I was a kid, I never appreciated the world around me unless there was snow for sledding, fair weather for biking and a hot sun for swimming in the town pool. The weather didn’t change my routine during the school year. In the summer, each day carried its own possibilities.

My favorite season has always been spring. I got to leave layers of winter clothes in the closet. I often rode my bike to school. The day kept getting longer so the street lights didn’t come on until later. We got to play outside after school. I remember the mud. I rode my bike through it to leave tire tracks behind. The air started to smell sweet. The birds came back and so did the bugs. My mother used to open the windows to clear out the stale winter air in the house. The fresh sheets on my bed smelled like the morning. Spring was and still is a delight.

My clean laundry is upstairs. The only thing left on my to-do list is a bit of dusting. I’ve been doing it piecemeal using my sweatshirt sleeve approach. When the coffee was brewing, I dusted a couple of shelves in the kitchen bookcase. When I get a bit antsy, I get up from the couch and dust somewhere else. I figure by the time I’m done, it will be time to start all over again.

Today I have an appointment so I have to go out. Yesterday I stayed home. I vacuumed. Henry hates the vacuum. Gracie didn’t care. One of my other dogs, Shauna, used to attack the vacuum. That was my excuse not to vacuum. Once my mother was taking care of Shauna at her house instead of mine. She started to vacuum and Shauna went after it. Somehow, the vacuum sucked up Shauna’s tongue. My horrified mother turned off the vacuum right away. Shauna’s tongue was unharmed, but it gave the dog a better reason to attack, to stay on the offensive.

Today was warm, nearly 50˚, but it was damp. I stayed home and barely got beyond the sloth stage. I watered a few plants, straightened up and dusted a bit.

It is 2:30, and I am wide awake, Henry is sleeping. He had a difficult day yesterday because we went to the vet’s. Henry needed a regularly scheduled shot. The poor dog shook while we were in the waiting area. He got so close to me he was sitting on my feet, but despite his anxiety, I had to get him on the scale as we needed his weight for heartworm pills. He weighs 44 pounds. I kept patting him and talking to him hoping to comfort him. We next went into the exam room. The vet checked him out and tried to make friends. She offered him a few dog treats, but he wouldn’t eat them. She gave him some cheese and he slurped every bit. The technician then took him into the back room where he got his shot and had his nails clipped. Henry looked quite handsome in the snowman bandana they put on him.

When I was eight, my grandparents gave me a couple of Bobbsey Twin books. My grandmother wrote a birthday message. She had a flowery sort of handwriting. In some ways it looked like calligraphy. I always thought of it as old lady handwriting.

When I was a kid, I went to bed fairly early on school nights. I’d only read a bit before my mother would shout up the stairs for me to turn off the light. I’d complain it was too early, and she’d tell me to turn off the light. I did, but I wasn’t happy. I wanted to keep reading. My solution was to read under the covers so the light couldn’t be seen. It got really hot under those covers. My plastic light started to melt. I started to sweat. I’d take a break so the light and I would cool down then I’d go back to reading. Sometimes I got caught but not very often. I’d read until I started to fall asleep.

When I’d get a book for Christmas, I’d usually started reading it after dinner, after all the Christmas frenzy. My mother use to complain I was reading the book too fast. She said I should take my time. I didn’t know how to do that. I still don’t.