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Today is glorious. It is actually 73˚. There is a breeze, a strong breeze. Outside the window I can see the new leaves on the scrub oaks fluttering. The flowers seem to glean in the sun. When I got the papers, I was sun blind for a second. I thought that delightful.

Cue the trumpets, unroll the flags, start the parade. You may think this an overreaction, but I know it is a celebration. I did my laundry, all three loads. Today I tackle the bed.

I loved my mother’s brownies. She always frosted them with chocolate icing and chocolate jimmies (for those of you outside New England, think sprinkles). Too much chocolate? Never!

Some of my creatures need to move to their summer quarters. My plastic flamingo longs for the outside. The Travelocity gnome is smiling. I figure he knows it’s time to move.

My mother told me she took my brother and me to see Sleeping Beauty. My brother hid under the seat every time Maleficent made an appearance. I stayed in my seat and watched. At Christmas one year, I had my picture taken with Santa. My brother hid in the bedroom. I wasn’t afraid.

Last night I had a BLT. That simple sandwich was raised to new heights by the ciabatta bread. I had it and truffle fries delivered. That was my reward for doing the laundry.

Yesterday I called a friend I haven’t seen since college. We had lost touch. She, Claire, had run into Bill and Peg, my friends dating back to Peace Corps. They were at a craft fair selling Bolga baskets. Claire talked to Peg and found out the baskets are from Ghana. After all these years Claire still remembered me and said she only knew one Peace Corps volunteer, and she had gone to Ghana (the she being me) and told Bill and Peg my name. Peg said her jaw dropped. Claire gave Peg her number, and she gave it to me. I put it in a safe place. I only found it yesterday. Claire and I spoke for well over an hour. We’ll stay in touch.

Today is another beautiful day. It is already 63˚. I’m thinking after my chores I’ll sit on the deck and read a while. What are my chores you ask? The laundry and my bed are what is left. I avoided them yesterday by dust mopping the downstairs and cleaning the kitchen floor and counter. I have no excuse today.

When I was a kid, the house across the street had grape arbors in the back yard. An old couple lived there, at least old to me, and they told us to take what we wanted. They were purple grapes. I ate the wild blueberries near the water tower close to the swamp. There was a pear tree, but the pears were little and always hard. The apple tree had crab apples. We ate the pears and apples anyway.

The strawberry plants I put in last year are up and growing. I hope for my first crop this year. Maybe I should wear bibbed overalls and chew on a piece of straw when I harvest all this strawberries.

The swelling is just about down around my eye though it still looks as if I lost a few rounds with Ali.

I loved Jiffy Pop but not just because I liked popcorn, but because I loved watching the aluminum foil top get bigger and bigger. I also remember that steam which rose from the popped corn when I ripped it open. My mother always melted plenty of butter.

My sisters, when they ate Oreos, scraped off the cream, ate that side and fed the other side to the dog. I eat my Oreos adult style, but every now and then I scrape off the cream and eat that side first. Poor Henry gets none.

My mother used to complain about how quickly the sweets disappeared. With four kids and a limited number of treats it was the old “each man for himself.” My mother used to hide her Pecan Sandies. I don’t know why. We didn’t like them. When I was much older, I knew my father hid his candy under the couch right below where he always sat. Beside him was a dish filled with Hershey’s Miniatures. He was a chocolate lover. I guess he was the one who cursed me with an almost insatiable love of chocolate.

Today is spectacular. The sun is so bright I had to squint my eyes when I got the papers. Not a single cloud mars the deep blue sky. The breeze is strong but warmish. I think I’ll spend some time outside in the yard.

My house is getting clean a room at a time. The kitchen floor is on my list, but today I’m going to bake the sweet potatoes I have then use them for hash browns. I have sausage partially cooked in the freezer bound to join the sweet potatoes.

Today is a Ghana day only because nothing has been going on for such a long time that the weather is about all that changes. Even poor Henry is bored. Both he and Jack are upstairs sleeping. Henry is on my bed. I don’t know where Jack is sleeping.

One day there was a knock at my door. There was a man I had never seen before standing there. He wanted to know if I had any interest in having sex with him. I said no, and he asked if I knew anyone else. I said no. He thanked me and left. Ghanaians are polite.

At the train station my pocket was picked. Peace Corps reimbursed me. A purse snatcher tried to steal my pocketbook, the one I had brought with me from home, but he couldn’t. I was holding on too fiercely. My house was broken into, but nothing except a little money was taken. My camera was taken but left outside my yard. Even after those, I always felt safe in Ghana.

I saw and ate okra for the first time. It was in soup. It was slimy. Mostly I ate beef cooked with tomatoes and onions accompanied by yam or rice for dinner, every night. I didn’t mind. I was in Africa.

The sun is gone, and the clouds have filled the vacuum. No rain is predicted. It is in the high 50’s. Tonight will drop back to the 40’s.

My eye is ugly, but it was hidden by my glasses so I went out yesterday. I had such fun. I went to the dump and sat in a line waiting for a turn at the dumpsters. My car was so full it took me a while to empty it. My next stop was the grocery store where most people were wearing masks except for one couple. I wanted to point at them and make that earsplitting shriek the way they do in the remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, but I just gave them a dirty look and checked out. After that I went for a ride. The main routes had a slew of cars, but the back streets had far fewer. I headed up cape and got as far as Sandwich. I put more miles on my car in that one trip than I have in weeks.

When I was a kid, I liked to color. All our crayons were kept in a round tin which once held a cake. We never threw a crayon away unless the stub was so small it was useless. Some of the crayon boxes came with a sharpener. As the crayons got smaller, we’d tear off the labels. That meant we didn’t know the actual color. Azure blue was just blue, and Indian red was just red, but we didn’t really care. Every Christmas we’d get new crayons usually in our stockings. I remember the box with 48 “different brilliant colors.” My mother never forgot to add a Christmas coloring book to our stockings.

The governor today announced Phase One of opening the state. The list of what can open is small: places of worship, construction and manufacturing.

My mood has a name, quarantine fatigue.

Yesterday wasn’t my best day even though I did get a few things done. I figure I have some sort of a syndrome: the I’m stuck at home and have had no human contact syndrome. My poor sister is getting my calls. I tell her silly things sometimes just to talk. I call friends. I get robocalls, disembodied voices. I never answer though I’m tempted.

Yesterday, I cleaned the bathroom and then went out and cleaned my little library. I took away a couple of books, added some, cleaned each remaining book cover and left envelopes inside the library, each with a pair of latex gloves. It was so great being outside I went to the deck next and cleaned bins and barbecue tools.

I went up to bed around 3:30 after watching part of The Stand. I went into the cats’ room to spend time with Gwen, clean their dishes and give them fresh food. I went to the bathroom to get the kitties fresh water. That’s when it happened. My new bath mat is anti skid. It works. My slipper hit the rug and stayed while the rest of me went down. The stuff I was carrying flew out of my arms. My knees hit the rug but my cheek hit the tile floor. I howled more than once. It hurt. Poor Jack was bewildered so he meowed over and over. Henry just there looking. I finally got up and finished with the water then went to feed the kitties. By the time I turned off the light in my bedroom, not long after the slide, I could feel the lump above my cheek. This morning I noticed the bruise under my eye. It will be a black eye.

I saw a picture of the new Space Corps flag. The silver object in the middle looks just like the communicator Star Trek personnel wear on their uniforms.

I am going out today. I didn’t yesterday. I chose to clean. What a silly choice.

Today has a few more clouds than yesterday, but it is still sunny and warm. I never did get out yesterday. I went out on the deck and noticed the bins there weren’t covered. Water was halfway up the insides and everything was wet. I emptied the bin and the metal barrel and left everything to dry. Last night it rained.

Every day I sleep late. Every day when I see the time, I jump out of bed as if it matters. It doesn’t. I have no plans for today except to get to that dump. My car and trunk are filled.

When I got downstairs, I turned on the TV to check what is happening in the world. Five minutes later I turned off the TV.

When I was a kid, today would have been the perfect Saturday to make a lunch, haul my bike out of the cellar and take off for the day. I seldom had a destination. It was the ride I loved. In one direction, I could bike to Weiss Dairy Farm. The cows were usually out in the field beyond the barn. They were black and white, Holstein dairy cows. If I biked in a different direction, I could easily get to the lake in the next town. I’d sometimes ride the whole circumference while other times I’d go halfway. A third direction brought me to the golf course where I’d hunt for errant balls. I’d ride a bit more, sort of a backtrack, then stop for lunch near the town hall where there were benches. I never saw anyone sitting on the benches. After lunch I’d pump as hard as I could up the giant hill at the far end of town then glide to the bottom where the pool was. I didn’t stop. I’d bike a bit more on the road alongside the reservoir then finally I’d take my route home.

I’d get home in the late afternoon and immediately put my bike in the cellar. Not to do so would invite my father’s ire. I’d watch TV then have dinner then take my Saturday bath. Bedtime was always later on Saturday. I was usually tired.

I think a parade is in order. Today is warm and lovely. Not a branch is stirring, and the sun owns the sky. I went to get my newspapers without wearing my sweatshirt. This day should be commemorated.

A badge, I want girl scout badges for my efforts. I used to have a sashful of badges, but my sash disappeared over the years. I’m about to start another. I think I have earned the home health badge. I’m sure a worldwide pandemic was never considered when this badge was added so this badge is a slam dunk (a little sport’s metaphor, a small reminder sports exist). I can also add the housekeeper badge, not one to which I have ever aspired. I did it. I cleaned downstairs yesterday. I couldn’t take the mountains of dust anymore. It happened suddenly. I got up to go to the bathroom, but I detoured. I dusted and vacuumed. The animals scattered. Poor Henry couldn’t find a safe spot from the vacuum and my frenzy. I still have to wash the kitchen and bathroom floors.

I find myself talking and even shouting at people on TV. I just told a lady she was wearing the ugliest orange hat. She didn’t respond. So far I have had no responses. My sanity is safe.

I have brought down the laundry from upstairs. That’s one step closer to washing it. I wonder if there is a laundry badge.

I feel accomplished. I brought all of the trash except the bag I’m using to the trunk. I am dusting myself off today. I am going to the dump then I’m taking a ride. I think ice cream is in order. I deserve a treat.

Today is lovely, sunny and warm. It is 60˚ and will even get a bit warmer. I have no set plans, no lists. The car is still filled with boxes, and I have added bags bound for the dump. The only problem is I really don’t have any ambition. I close my eyes when I go to the kitchen. There is no dust. I can’t see it.

I’m going to stop for a few provisions. My light cream is gone, and the cats need more variety in their canned food. I need something sweet.

I am watching a movie which supposedly takes place in Boston. Not one character has a Boston accent, realistic or otherwise. The names of towns are mispronounced. I can only watch a short while before I yowl.

Yesterday Henry drove me crazy. He barked most of the afternoon and during the evening. I was crazed. I went to check. When I opened the front door, nothing was there, no delivery trucks, no walkers, no stray dogs and not a single turkey. I have no idea why he was so insistent.

When I was a kid, I played CYO basketball. We practiced Saturday mornings. I remember my coach had been a marine. That’s all I remember about her. She made us wear high tops, black ones. She taught us basketball strategy, but she also taught us to cha cha. She brought a portable record player and set it up in the gym. She showed us the steps, divided us into couples and had us dance. I really think that is the last time I ever did the cha cha; however, should I be called upon, I will gladly demonstrate but only if my life depends on it.

Today is another day of clouds. They match my disposition. I think I’ll go out later. Getting dressed will be a novelty.

Sometimes I lose track of the day of the week. When I wake up, I ask the Alexa in my bedroom the day and time. It is curiosity that makes me ask. It really doesn’t make much difference whatever day it is. My routine barely changes. This week I still have the dump and the laundry, the last one my bugaboo.

When I was a kid, I don’t remember being afraid of much. I found thunder and lightning exhilarating. I wandered the woods. Snakes were fun to watch slither across the grass. Bugs were prey caught with my jar. I remember seeing my first praying mantis. I didn’t know what it was. I thought it the most remarkable bug I had ever seen. It still shares first place with a centipede.

If I had to live on one food, I’d be hard pressed to choose that food, but there are a few possibilities. Rice is on the possibility list. The only drawback is I had to live on rice for a while when there was a late rainy season. I’m not so sure I want to do that again, but jollof rice may convince me. Chicken is on the list. I could eat off a chicken for quite a few meals ending in a pot of soup. Eggs are on the list. They can be cooked in so many ways. I love over-easy, but I’d miss my toast.

If I were stuck in the woods, I couldn’t forage. I’d have no idea what to look for beyond berries. I’d need a book with illustrations.

In Ghana, I sometimes had to flick the bugs off my food. I drank water with floaties. I sifted flour hoping to get most of the bugs out. I didn’t, but they got cooked so no harm. I still do that, flick the bugs off.

My current menu is heavy on foods like crackers and cheese. I have eaten all my frozen meals, mostly chicken pies (chicken again). I still have plenty of food, but I like stuff I don’t have to cook, hence the savory pies.

I haven’t eaten yet though it is after two. I’m thinking about ordering a pizza.

The door bell woke me up this morning. Henry jumped off the bed and flew down the stairs. I took a bit more time. I don’t fly. When I opened the inside door, I saw my two bags of groceries on the top step blocking the storm door. I had requested delivery between one and two, and here it was at eleven thirty. It took me a while to move the bags from blocking the door, but once I got them inside, I carried them to the kitchen in one trip. $88.00 worth of groceries in two paper bags don’t weigh a whole lot.

I was in Ghana from June 1969 until July 1971. During that time, I missed what was going on at home even though Peace Corps sent us The NY Times Week in Review. It all seemed so far away, even surreal. I was more preoccupied with learning a new language and figuring out how to traverse Ghana from top to bottom. I was eating strange foods and shopping in markets with goats, sheep and more chickens than I’d ever seen in one place running around. I was tolerating bugs and the rainy season and humidity. I was homesick and discouraged. That was my world and the world of all the other trainees (PCT’s in Peace Corps jargon) that summer.

We got together after the day’s training. We’d walk to the local spot (bars in Ghana) at the end of the dirt road right near our training site. We sat outside in the cool evenings drinking beer, laughing, singing and complaining. Beer was 50 pesewas. I hate beer but the 50 pesewas (about 50 cents) made it appealing. We played drinking games.

My group of trainees numbered about 125. We were all strangers that Sunday in June when we met in Philadelphia, but here in a spot in Koforidua, 8 or 9 weeks later, we were friends. We were nearing the end of training. We would be on our own in a couple of weeks. We were nervous and we were scared. We ordered another round, my friends and I, and we played one more drinking game then sang our way home as we followed a trail through the tropical rain forest. I slept well that night.