Keep the Coffee Comimg

When I woke up, I looked out my bedroom window only to see another dark, dreary day. When I let Henry out, I could feel the dampness. It makes the air feel chilly. The high today will be 72˚, the low 61˚. The sun may make an appearance, but I’m skeptical.

I love reading, and, lately, I have spend days reading. Sometimes I read in bed while other times I read downstairs hoping to get tired enough to go to bed.

I woke this morning after 10 because I heard the phone ring. I had gone to bed close to 2. That seems to happen most days now.

I don’t seem to eat whole meals anymore. I tend to graze. Part of the reason is I am too lazy to cook. Another reason is I forget to take anything out of the freezer, filled with mostly chicken and ground beef. I could make a meatloaf, but then I’d have to walk to the kitchen, open the freezer, hunt around until I find the ground beef then put everything back then get the meat ready. I’m tired just thinking about it, and I haven’t even mentioned the potatoes.

I’ve got to do my wash. The hall is cluttered with pillow cases filled with laundry. They will soon overrun the house.

Henry looks out the front door in vain. He is ready to bark incessantly when someone walks by, but foot traffic has been almost nonexistent. Henry is so quiet I keep checking that he is okay, but just a short while back, he did have a throat growl but no bark.

Late night commercials are for drugs, chairs that lift you so you can stand up, a stair rider so you don’t have to climb, walk-in bathrooms and life insurance. I swear all of those commercials are aimed me, at my age. I guess many of us suffer from age group insomnia.

Mostly I am an optimist, and I always think hope sides with me for without hope the world is a scary place.

This is an entry from last July 4th. It describes every year but this one. This year being patriotic also means taking care of yourself and others by wearing a mask and social distancing if you can.

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. 

On July 3rd 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife Abigail. In it, he predicted the celebrations for American Independence Day, including the parties:

“It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other.”

John Adams expected July 2nd to be Independence Day as that was the day the Second Continental Congress voted for independence, but the signing ceremony for the Declaration of Independence didn’t happen until two days later so because July 4th appears on the Declaration, it became the date we celebrate Independence.

I know some people complain that the meaning of the day is lost in the barbecues and the fireworks, but they have forgotten John Adams’ hope. We are honoring the day exactly as he wished. Flags are waving everywhere. Families get together to celebrate and to break bread, albeit hot dog rolls. Fireworks illuminate the sky. Baseball is played on small town fields and in huge stadiums. Drums beat the cadence in parades. We sing rousing songs celebrating America and our freedom. We also sing heartfelt songs about what America means to us. We are many sorts of people, we Americans. We don’t all look the same, practice the same religion, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today.

“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.” Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.

When I woke up, it was sunny. Right now it is cloudy, and it’s getting dark. Rain is predicted. Yesterday I filled my trunk with bags of newspapers and catalogs to recycle then I filled my backseat with cardboard boxes. The trash is not loaded yet. One bag is in the kitchen and the other is upstairs in the cats’ room. I’m thinking today is a great dump day. It won’t be too busy given the weather and all, and I’ll have a carful of trash. When I’m done, I’ll give myself a well-earned reward for emptying my car. I’ll stop at the Dunkin’ Donuts conveniently placed on my route home. I’ve earned my favorite, a Boston Kreme Pie donut. My second favorite is butternut, but they go fast. You’d think they’d make more.

When I was a kid, donuts on Sunday were a weekly treat. My father was an usher at an early mass, and he usually stopped for donuts on his way home. Most of the donuts he chose were plain. That’s what he ate, a plain donut slathered with butter.

Yesterday I went hunting through DoorDash to see if any new places had been added. I noticed the Island Cafe and Grill so I checked out their menu. I couldn’t order fast enough when I saw curried goat with steamed rice, vegetables and plantain. While I was waiting, the restaurant called and said there was a delay and did I want anything else. I said I’d wait. Of course, I’d wait. After it came, I called Bill and Peg, and they both sort of moaned. They were decidedly jealous. Last time they were here visiting we did Karoo’s, the South African restaurant, and when they visit again, we’ll get goat and plantain, a meal harkening back to Ghana. I love plantain, and there are two right now ripening in the kitchen. Where do I find goat?

Today’s weather is already getting hot and humid. The sun comes and goes. It was dark enough earlier that I had to turn on the table lamp in the den to read the papers. It will get hot today, to the low 80’s, but the occasional breeze, strong enough to blow the leaves and sway the branches, will make the day feel cooler. That makes the deck a perfect destination this afternoon. Besides, I still need to put the deck covers away. They were still wet yesterday so I emptied the water and spread them out in the sun. They dried.

A cat throwing up woke me this morning. Alexa told me it was just after 7. It was Gwen as Jack was sleeping under my bureau. I could see his white paw. Cats throwing up is no big deal. I went back to sleep. When I woke up for good, I cleaned the guest room floor. It was a hair ball moment. I do use anti-hair ball cream but obviously not enough. They are two huge, furry cats.

I don’t know what I want to do today. Sheets and such are in front of the cellar door, and the laundry basket in my bedroom is just about full. I have a hankering to go out even if just for a ride, but I could do the dump. I have adhered the new sticker to my windshield, my back seat is filled with boxes, the trunk already has a trash bag, and one more is in the kitchen ready to go to the trunk (Insert sigh here!).

I have been watching the news channels. Mostly I block out the voices and check the wardrobes of the reporters and the rooms of the peripheral experts who are still home and reporting from there. I noticed two reporters were wearing the same print dress but in different colors. I couldn’t figure out the design of the print. It looked like bees or sunglasses or, my most farfetched guess, Christmas trees. With my attention diverted, I have no idea what either reporter reported (yup, I did this on purpose).

Looks like the sun and the breeze are going to be hanging around enticing me to join them.

Today is damp and cloudy and cooler than I expected. My back is a bit better, but I doubt I’ll go out. I’ll shower, my concession to cleanliness, and I’ll probably read, my nod to literacy. I have a slew (pile? bunch? bevy?) of new books I’ve downloaded. I have plenty of dog and cat food. I have a freezer full of human food. I have a bag of lemon Oreos.

When I was a kid, being quarantined, for even the two weeks, would have been torment for us and for my mother. I think my father would have found his way around it and gone to work. He was a salesman for a tobacco wholesale company. Essential? Maybe? The TV would have been on all day into the night. I think we would have run out of stuff to do in a couple of days. We would have whined and begged my mother to let us out. She would have been frustrated to the point of yelling. My father would have never worn a mask.

I love cheeseburgers. I love hot dogs. My freezer has plenty of both. I don’t use ketchup on either. It would be sacrilege to use it on a hot dog, and I use mayo on my burger. My French fries get ketchup. My onion rings get salt. I am open as to the kind of cheese on my burger. The rolls must be toasted.

I don’t hear a sound from outside. I don’t even hear a car. The branches and leaves are still. My house is quiet. The two cats and the dog are having their morning naps, but were I to rustle paper, Henry and Jack would rush downstairs thinking a human treat to be shared. They’d be disappointed.

I like looking at the background rooms of the houses of people who are remotely on TV. Some rooms are ugly. Some wallpaper is scary. One kitchen was huge and monochromatic, white. I like the cluttered rooms. They have personality. I like Seth Meyers’ Thorn Birds and Jimmy Kimmel’s Aunt Chippy with the foul mouth whom Jimmy loves to punk. I like Jimmy Fallon’s slide and Stephen Colbert’s drinks. Colbert really does need a haircut that is unless he is hoping for a man bun.

Today is an ugly day. It rained more last night. Everything is still wet. Flowers are drooping, and tree limbs are closer to the ground. The furniture covers I spread out to dry have new pockets of rainwater so I’ll have to empty them again if the sun ever returns.

My back is so very painful right now. I have no idea what I might have done two days ago as the pain started yesterday. I didn’t lift anything heavy. Maybe I turned the wrong way. This morning I could barely get out of bed. I moan when I move. Henry watches me from around the corner, his head the only part of him I can see. I think Jack is upstairs. I saw Gwen sort of hiding in the cats’ room. Henry is late for his morning nap.

When I was a kid, I loved getting soaked by a summer rain. I’d stand outside with my arms spread wide and my mouth open hoping to catch some drops. I’d splash the running rivers which ran along the gutters beside the sidewalks. We’d splash each other and laugh at the sheer joy of getting wet on a hot summer’s day.

On the hot days, my little sisters ran through the sprinkler. Ours was often set on the grass along the side wall of the house. It spun in a circle and made noise. I remember my sisters would spread out their towels in the sun as if the yard were a beach. They’d take turns running and jumping over the sprinkler. They’d lie in the sun to dry.

I have a list of stuff to keep me busy. The list isn’t long. Reading tops the list. That was an easy choice. Sporadic cleaning is next because I do that already. I use my sleeve. The rest of the list is fluid. It changes with my mood. On the way through the living room, I sometimes stop and rearrange stuff like the pillows. In the kitchen I move the canisters around on the counter, but they usually end up in the same spot where they started. Strangely enough I am seldom bored. I have learned to take it easy, to slow down and sometimes to do nothing. But when I do nothing, I feel a bit of residual guilt imprinted on me by the nuns. That’s okay I suppose. It keeps me honest.

Today is cloudy and damp. It is already warm, 75˚. Rain is a possibility, but a remote possibility. My house is clean, and I didn’t do any cleaning. Lee and Roseana did. Lee checked, as he always does, to see if I had anything he needed to do. I forgot to have him switch the storm doors for the screen doors. I’ll do it, but I won’t bring the storms down the cellar. They are awkward and heavy. I don’t do stairs while carrying awkward anymore.

The Cape is not a hotbed of exotic restaurants. Falmouth used to have a Caribbean restaurant, and I made the forty five minute trip a few times for goat and plantain. That restaurant is gone now. Wellfleet had a wonderful Mexican restaurant, and, again, I was happy for the ride. That too is gone. Asian restaurants are plentiful. I can eat Thai, Chinese, Indian and Vietnamese. I tried that last one only once so I probably should try it again. Down Cape is a South African restaurant. I have been there several times. The food is different than West African food, but I’ve happily made do with beef bobotie.

Once a week I order delivery, except this week when I ordered twice, but one order was lunch so it doesn’t count. A couple of days ago I had a Panera delivery of a Cuban sandwich. It was both lunch and dinner, half for one and half for the other. I’ve had fish and chips, a fish sandwich, seafood pasta, pizza, subs, cheeseburgers, beef with mashed potatoes and asparagus, a piece of peanut pie and some chocolate chip cookies. I figure I am helping my local restaurants stay afloat, and I’m salving my angst.

I didn’t go out yesterday, just because. I am going out today as I need a change of scenery. I have two stops. One is the nursery, and the other is the grocery store. I need bread and I need chocolate.