It’s Valentine’s Day. My friend brought me flowers, red carnations perfect for the day, and a Valentine’s Day balloon. My sister sent a card and some chocolates, caramel sea salt dark chocolates, my favorite of all. Every time I go into the kitchen, I eat one. They won’t be around for too long.

Today is winter. Yesterday hinted of spring. The sky was mostly cloudy earlier, but the clouds are giving way to blue. The birds are at the feeders. The red spawn of Satan was around yesterday checking out the feeders, but I don’t see him today.

I am watching disaster movies, bad disaster movies, and that’s being complimentary. So far there have been earthquakes, monstrous hurricanes, dinosaurs and giant killer bees. Tubi is the station I’m watching. The films are all imitations of better films. 30,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Independence Wars Insurgence, Snakes on a Train and The Day the Earth Stopped are prime examples, but my favorite bad movie, Iron Sky, is on Amazon Prime. In it, the Nazis fled Earth in 1945 and built a huge fortress on the dark side of the moon where they have waited to return to Earth and to power in the year 2018.

I’m going to do random chores today. I want to make orange cookies and some chocolate chip cookies. My plants need watering. Did I mention my laundry? It’s becoming a dirty word.

Yesterday I got dressed and went out. Today I’m staying close to home and I’m wearing my coziest clothes. They just happen to be red.

Okay, now for the weather: snow is expected late this afternoon then it will turn to sleet and become slippery. The local paper says 1-3 inches while the Boston TV station says 0-2. I don’t mind the snow, but slippery is a bit scary. I am supposed to go to a meeting at 5. I’ll have to see what the weather is doing before I make up my mind as to whether or not I’ll venture outside.

When I was a kid, snow turning to rain was the worst. I loved snow, but I hated winter rain. Walking home from school meant getting soaked and being cold through all the layers. My feet were frozen from soaking wet shoes and socks. I was miserable. When I got home, I changed before I did anything else. I remember the feeling of being warm again in my pajamas and slippers. Sometimes I’d sit by the hissing radiator until I was really warm.

I do love rain but summer rain mostly. Sometimes, when it’s a soft rain, I sit on the deck under the umbrella and listen to the sound of the rain pitter- pattering on the umbrella over my head. I feel surrounded by the rain.

As a going away gift, one of my friends gave me a travel umbrella. We knew only a few things about Ghana, but we knew there was a dry and a rainy season. I remember our stay in Winneba at the beginning of training. On a rainy day I used that umbrella and then sat on steps out of the rain for a while. When I left the steps, I forgot my umbrella. It was gone when I went back. I was upset until I learned how little I needed that umbrella. I stayed out of heavy rains, but I never minded the gentle rains. Getting wet was a relief from the heat.

My favorite rain is a storm with thunder and lightning. I love the crack and rumble of the thunder and the flash of lightning across the dark sky. The best part is I can feel the thunder and am awed by the flashes of lightning. It is almost magical.

It was cloudy when I first woke up, but now the sun is shining, a hazy sun. The breeze is slight, only the tops of trees seem to be moving. It is cold, a wintry blast of cold, a portent of the snow predicted for tomorrow night though here on the cape we will escape most of it. I’m okay with that. On Wednesday we’ll be back to the 40’s during the day, the 20’s at night, a typical cape weather pattern this time of year.

Henry is a barker. That’s all he did for a while this morning. He barked at the noise of a car door shutting at my neighbor’s house across the street. My neighbor had company. He barked when the car left and barked again when it returned. He howled when two doors slammed. He drove me crazy. My father always said to praise a dog for barking as the dog is protecting his territory, but by the time Henry got to baying, I was irritated. I yelled. He didn’t stop until the car left, after more barking when the door shut.

The cold never manifested. I still have a scratchy throat, but I have no idea why.

When I was a kid, I didn’t miss school very often. I didn’t have too many common ailments, colds or coughs, but I did have childhood diseases like measles, chickenpox and mumps. They used to travel like wildfire from kid to kid in my school, and then to my siblings at home. My mother was just fine with us spreading those childhood diseases. She preferred we all get them at the same time so she didn’t have to deal with one kid then another getting them. I remember wearing gloves and taking baking soda baths when I had chickenpox. They kept me from scratching the chicken pox because if I did, I’d cause scars, something my mother said over and over. I don’t have a single scar from my bout with chickenpox thanks to my mother and her constant nagging. That is, after all, what mothers do, all for the best.

Oh no!! I have a cold coming. My throat is raspy, my nose congested, my head aching and I’m coughing a bit. I’m going to lie low today so no game night. I haven’t had a cold since I retired so I’m hoping this is just a random series of symptoms.

Henry slept with his paws and head on my lap, the very first time he’s done that. I was thrilled and amazed.

Today is sunny but cold, around 32˚. Tonight will be even colder. Snow is forecasted for Tuesday, but we will get only and inch or two before it turns to rain. Luckily, after the rain, it will be above freezing so no ice.

When I was buttering my toast this morning, one of my mother’s stories popped into my head. She told us that during the war butter was heavily rationed; instead, they bought oleo margarine. It needed far fewer points than butter. The oleo was white so a packet of yellow food coloring was included to make the oleo look more like butter. My mother said it was awful tasting. That memory meant we always had butter.

The only time I didn’t use butter was in Ghana. I used margarine. It came in a large can with a blue label. I think it came from the Netherlands. The only times I’d buy the very expensive butter was for holidays. The butter came in a can and was from Australia. I used it when I made Christmas cookies.

I am a coffee snob which is probably because of my time in Ghana. I drank Nestlé instant coffee and Carnation canned milk, also made by Nestlé. After a while, I didn’t mind. I think I killed my taste buds.

I love jollof rice, a Ghanaian dish. I think I ate it just about every night I was in Bolga on my last trip. Some Ghanaian foods I really don’t like, kenkey being one of them. It has a sour taste and sour isn’t a favorite palate for me.

Mostly I don’t cook full meals for myself out of pure laziness. If I cook a chicken, it is two nights for dinner, chicken sandwiches for lunch and chicken salad at the end when I tear the chicken apart. For full evening meals, I usually buy already mashed potatoes, but I always cook a fresh vegetable. The last couple of nights I have had cereal for dinner. Now I’m out of cereal and milk. I wonder what’s in my freezer.

This morning has been a busy one already. That’s what I get for waking up earlier than usual. I got dressed and hurried to the post office to mail my Valentine’s cards and candy. The post office wasn’t open yet so I decided to get coffee, but the line of cars at the Dunkin’ drive up window was so long I gave up and went back to the post office where I parked in the lot. I figured I’d pass the time by reading my papers, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t put on my glasses. After 15 minutes or so, I finally got inside the post office. I first addressed the padded envelopes then got in line. I was number 8. When I left, the line behind me was even longer.

Today is cold, 28˚, but at least the day is sunny with a mostly blue sky. Henry loves the cold and is outside a long time, several times during the day. His fur is always cold as are his ears.

Today is laundry day. I can procrastinate no longer. My mother would say it was growing legs.

I haven’t a to do list, laundry maybe but nothing else. I am free to do whatever I want. Despite evidence to the contrary, I am not fond of to do lists. They make me feel obligated, but I’m slowly getting passed that. I used to cross each completed item off with a bit of a celebration, a clap maybe or hands in the air, but now I am just as happy to do nothing.

When I was in Ghana, I had a routine. I taught 20 hours a week. When I was the tutor on duty for the week (once every couple of months or so), I had to check the dorms to make sure the students had cleaned them and made their beds, wander the cafeteria during breakfast, break, lunch and dinner to make sure students were using forks, not their fingers. I never understood that one. It was contrary to the culture. Ghanaians always eat with their right hand. I had to patrol during evening study time, and, finally, I had to make sure lights were out on time. Afternoons I coached during the volleyball and track seasons. That was it for obligations. The rest of the time was mine, and it was a lot of time.

I went into town on market days. I always visited my tomato and egg ladies and wandered around serendipitously. Once I found a watermelon. Sometimes at night, my friend Bill and I went into town to buy snacks, not what you might think of snacks but the Ghanaian sort. We bought yam or plantain chips, toasted coconut balls, chin chin, a sort of pastry, kabobs and Bofrot, my favorite, a sort of Ghanaian donut.

It’s getting late.

Gee, what a surprise! It is raining yet again. I’m thinking we now have an official rainy season. I always looked forward to the return of the rain when I was in Ghana. The difference here is it’s still cold. It never got cold in Ghana.

My wash has made it to the cellar. it is getting closer to the washing machine, but there is no urgency in washing my clothes so I just leave the laundry sitting in the basket. Should I start running out of underwear, I’ll have to break down and do the laundry.

When I traveled in Africa, I always packed toilet paper. Most public toilets had holes in the floor and no toilet paper. I was an expert at aiming and finding the hole, a strange talent and not one I advertise. When I traveled with my parents, I always packed a cribbage board and playing cards. My father and I played just about every night. My mother did her crossword puzzles. My mother always packed snacks like crackers and cheese. We’d eat them at night during our marathon cribbage tournaments. When I traveled with friends in Europe, I backpacked. I’d always include a few first aid items, especially bandaids. I’d also pack a couple of books. They were easily traded items at hostels. In Ghana, besides toilet paper, I packed a book for the long bus rides and clothes, always dresses as that was what social convention demanded I wear.

On my recent visits to Ghana, I still packed anti-malarial pills and antidiarrheal pills. They are still a necessity. I also packed my iPad filled with books. My clothes this time were mostly pants and shirts. I did pack one dress just in case I needed it. I didn’t. My friend Peg packed coffee bags and Nutella. She shared each. I packed Oreos and a few other snacks. I packed toilet paper, a habit hard to break, and you never know when it might just be needed. It usually is.

Last night, I spent the evening in a time capsule talking on the phone with a long time friend. We met in the first grade, Sister Redempta’s room, and spent all of elementary school and most of high school together. He lives in Florida now. A while back we reconnected on Facebook. During our late night conversation, a marathon conversation, we talked about our common history, childhood friends, music, books and our lives in between then and now. We talked together from 12:30 until 3; consequently, I slept until 11. It was the most amazing conversation.

Today is dark and rainy. It is warm despite the dampness. Henry has been in and out several times. I have a to do list, as usual, but it is all inside. Laundry is on the list, no surprise there. The basket has finally made it to this floor. I have some plants to repot, bills to pay and valentines to send. I may even make cookies. I bought the ingredients yesterday at stop 2, the grocery store. Stop 1 was the dump, 3 Agway and 4 the candy store for Valentine’s Day chocolates. I was busy.

I am safe from the rocking chair. Henry knocked a pillow off my bed which hit the chair and made it rock. He jumped up and growled. That chair won’t dare move again.

My cleaning couple is here. I had to turn up the TV to hear it above the vacuuming. Oh, how I suffer. Henry shook when Lee tried to pat him so Henry is now sitting right beside for his protection, not mine. I guess I’ll have to be more social for Henry’s sake. He needs to meet more loving people.

I track the mileage on my car each week, not for any mechanical purposes, but to see my activity for the week. Last week, during the Polar Vortex, I went 8 miles. This week I have gone 12. My car will last forever.

Today is cloudy but warm. I’m watching the Patriot’s duck boat parade. The crowd is immense. The team is loving it. The noise meter is off the charts. Even Bill Belichick is smiling and waving.

My muse is elsewhere, maybe in Boston at the parade or maybe at the beach walking on the sand closest to the water. The sun would have been a nice addition, but I’m happy with the warmth of a still day.

Near my front door is a basket filled with hats, gloves, scarfs and mittens. My outside shoes are underneath the coat rack. On the rack are vests and Henry’s new coat. It is my winter corner.

My house has Africa in just about every room, mostly colorful Bolga baskets made in Bolgatanga, my other home town. I have wooden figures, metal gold weights, watercolors, woven fabrics, a couple of table runners and a tablecloth, also from Bolga. Upstairs I have dresses and shirts all made from Ghanaian fabrics. They mean the world to me.

I have two years to save enough for what will probably be my last trip to Ghana. It will be my anniversary, fifty years since Peace Corps service. I need to save at least $5000, a sum which seems so very large right now, but I am determined to get there, and when I am so determined, nothing stands in my way.

This morning I slept in after all the hoopla of yesterday. My Pats won the Super Bowl last night. We feasted on appetizers and a chocolate cream pie. The game was a bit boring as the offense slept. The defense, though, was mighty. The parade is tomorrow.

When I got the papers, I was surprised at how warm it is. It feels like spring. Last night the air was hazy, but today the air is clear. A cloudy blue sky frames the bright sun. It is a day to be out and about enjoying the weather.

My father never saw the winning Pats. He would have been overjoyed. My mother would have planned a watch the game party. The food would have been plentiful and delicious. She sometimes watched but knew nothing about football. One time she cheered for the wrong team. We explained. She didn’t really care. She wasn’t into any sports.

The one team my whole family roots for is the Red Sox. My niece and nephews were indoctrinated at birth with their Red Sox onesies, and they have passed on their love of the Sox to their own children who wear Red Sox t-shirts and hats all summer. Spring training for pitchers and catchers begins February 12th. I’m now putting my Patriot’s paraphernalia away and am wearing a Red Sox sweatshirt. I can barely wait for baseball.

That’s about it for today. It is almost time to be out enjoying the weather while it lasts.

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.