Even though it is 60°, I’m wearing a sweatshirt and socks. The house is so cold the butter hardened. The day is quite ugly. The sky is filled with clouds. It is an inside day.

I can hear a lawnmower disturbing the morning. A few cars went up my street. Somebody walked by the house. Henry barked. He always barks.

When I worked, Saturday was my chore day. I changed the bed and cleaned the house. I grocery shopped. Some Saturday nights I’d get together with friends. We’d eat and play games. Saturday has always been my favorite day.

When I was a kid, Saturday was the day to do whatever I wanted. On warm days I’d ride around. I never really had a destination. I’d ride by myself. None of my neighborhood friends were big on bike rides. My closest neighborhood friend didn’t even have a bike. I couldn’t imagine life without my bike, without the freedom of the ride. Nothing came close to the sound and feel of the wind as I rode down a hill as fast as I could. I’d take my feet off the pedals and hold my legs out. I’d let the hill propel me. It was as close as I came to flying.

I don’t like plain black licorice. I do like black jelly beans, Good and Plenty and black Necco Wafers. I used to buy a box of Good and Plenty for a nickel at the movie theater. Sometimes the pieces were stale. The outsides cracked when I bit them. I didn’t really mind, mostly because I had low standards. Candy is good almost no matter what. Besides, the stale pieces lasted longer than the fresh ones did. They were a workout for my jaw.

I remember eating TV dinners. They were a treat. The dinners came on aluminum foil divided sort of dishes and were baked. I remember chicken, mashed potatoes, peas and a cherry dessert. The package had a picture of the dinner on the front which looked delicious. The only thing I was keen about was the hot pie desserts.

The bookcase in my bedroom goes from side to side on one wall. It is plain wood. A friend build it maybe forty years or so ago. On it I keep, beside books, some treasures. The only Barbie doll I own is on the top shelf. Barbies came after my childhood. This one is a Ghanaian Barbie wearing Kente cloth, the handwoven cloth from Ghana. There are nostalgic pieces on the shelves like small plastic Howdy Doody, Mr. Bluster and Dilly Dally toys. A stuffed Mikey Mouse is there as are a few small tin toys. That filled bookcase is my of my favorite pieces of furniture because of those treasures and memories it holds.

I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but it has been one of those mornings. The pine pollen has started. It covers my windshield and most of my car; consequently, I am wheezing and having trouble breathing. I guess, though, that too has a weird sort of upside. If I do anything requiring exertion, I have to stop to breathe. I figure I’ll just have to relax for most of the day except I do need to put bags in the trunk, but for that I’ll use my carriage, the one for hauling all my uke stuff. My nose is permanently clogged. I should probably carry a handkerchief in my back pocket the way my father did or stuffed up the cuff of my sleeve the way the nuns did.

Henry has a vet appointment for Tuesday to check the reason for his limp and to get the medication for his eye allergy.

We are back to needing sweatshirts. The high today will be 59° while the low will be 50°. The sky is mostly cloudy but a glint of sun is managing to break through.

When I was a kid, my dog was Duke, a boxer. He gave me a love for boxers which has never diminished. Henry is my first non-boxer, but the tradition continues with Nala. Duke was scrabby and stubborn. He was also protective and loving. Nobody would have dared mess with us if Duke was with us. The house down the street had a dog Duke hated. They went after each other when they could. The dog was bigger than Duke who was small, the runt of his litter. One fight was horrendous. Duke got the worst of it. His neck was torn. My mother wanted him taken to the vet. My father said Duke would take care of it, licking it and cleaning it. That was when my father was away working all week so while he was gone, my mother took Duke to the vet where he got medication against infection and his wound cleaned. He got small stitches below his neck. You could’t see them. When my father got home, he mentioned how great the wound looked, how well Duke had done. My mother said nothing.

When I was growing up, I believed most things I was told. My mother had her admonitions about blindness, balls of stomach gum, giant knuckles and death from drowning, and I never questioned her. The nuns too had their warnings about sin and hell so I stayed on the straight and narrow rather than risk the devil and eternal hellfire.

My weekend dance card is empty except for a dump run. I figure I’ll go on Sunday as sort of paying homage to my father.

Yesterday was hellishly warm for May, maybe even for August. The heat had me reconsidering my life. Was I virtuous enough to avoid hell? Could I escape eternal damnation? I certainly hope I am.

Last night it rained for only a short while, but it set the stage for today’s weather. It is 61° with light showers. Earlier, my usual quiet morning was jolted by the sound of a tree company parked next door felling some pine trees and chipping the downed branches and trees from that big storm a while back. The tree which had landed on my back fence is gone. I now have to brace the fence as it is leaning. I tried before, but the fence is heavy by itself let alone with a leaning pine tree. That chore is for another day.

My dance card has only chores on it including a dump run tomorrow. Today, I’m going to finish cleaning the dining room and try to start on my room which has boxes and clothes all over, the start of my switching winter for summer clothes. I figure it being the end of May that task needs to be completed.

My father was a lawn specialist in his own way. He used a hand mower his whole life. Every spring he had it sharpened. He cut his lawn in the same pattern most summer Saturdays. I loved the sound of that mower, the click click as he pushed it across the lawn. The grass flew out from the blade. He always raked with his bamboo rake, later his metal rake. Some teeth of that rake were bent but made no difference. I remember the cuffs of my father’s pants had grass in them from the flying blades of his mower.

The only ukulele players I remember are Arthur Godfrey, Big Brother Bob Emery and Tiny Tim. Bob Emery was the host of Big Brother, a show on TV in the 50’s when I was a kid. His theme song was The Grass Is Always Greener in the Other Fellow’s Yard which he accompanied with his uke. I sang along but didn’t really understand what the song was about. Toward the start of the show, we drank a milk toast to a picture of President Eisenhower while Hail to the Chief played in the background. I remember I saw him in person one July 4th during the yearly festivities in Wakefield, the town next to mine. He was in the middle of the bandstand surrounded by kids. I was one. He was wearing his usual sports coat and tie. I remember the coat always looked checkered on TV. I was right behind him. I remember a bug was on his neck.

We are still enjoying the loveliest weather. The sun is just brilliant. Everything seems to gleam. The blue sky is deep and cloudless. A breeze moves through the branches. It is already 70°. Tomorrow will be similar but the rest of the week will fall back to the 60’s. I guess Mother Nature doesn’t want to spoil us.

My house is out to get me, not to the Amityville Horror degree but still noticeable. The front door you know about. It ate my finger last week and sent me crashing to the ground. This morning the shower curtain fell again. I left it on the floor and took my shower anyway, cleanliness being next to Godliness. I’m going to haul my step ladder upstairs and try again. When I walk through the house, I am ever vigilant. Where are the ants, the gnats and the mice? They are either hiding or my attempts to eradicate them are working. Speaking of mice, I saw what I thought was part of a branch on the floor, one of Nala’s trophies. Nope, it was the carcass of a petrified mouse, probably another Nala trophy. I tossed it away from the house.

When I was a kid, I was never a girly girl. I preferred pants and blouses to dresses. I wore sneakers. In the summer, I’d wear clam diggers or shorts. In the winter it was jeans. I reluctantly had to wear a uniform to school and a skirt or dress to church. We had to wear dresses or skirts to drill competitions. It was usually hot so we were often uncomfortable. Ironically, I was posted to Peace Corps Ghana where women, at least back then, did not wear pants. Given the heat, though, dresses were actually cool so I adapted.

My mother made supper every night. It was usually meat, potatoes, usually mashed, and a vegetable. The veggies, except for summer corn, were canned. The food wasn’t elaborate, but it was always tasty. She only served vegetables we’d eat making for a peaceful mealtime. We’d grab cookies for dessert. Oreos were a favorite. We’d usually eat those in front of the TV after dinner. Because I live alone and don’t want to make the effort, I seldom make supper. My friend Elaine has been feeding me. She doesn’t have leftovers. She has supper for me. I’ve enjoyed her cooking and like having elaborate dishes instead of a sandwich or buttered crackers. The other night was an exception. I had a pork tenderloin which had lived in my freezer for a longtime. I had bought 3 pounds of potatoes for 48¢ from the bargain bin. Even though they still had a couple of weeks of life, this seemed the perfect time. I had peas and corn in the freezer so I used them. I cleared out my oven which I use as a cabinet and baked the meat and potatoes. Supper was delicious. I even got to enjoy it again last night, will again tonight and probably tomorrow night.

I have a concert this afternoon and practice tonight. I do need cream and cat food so a grocery stop is also on my dance card. Tomorrow too will be uke busy, but for the rest of the week I have only a dump run. I’m looking forward to doing pretty much nothing.

Today is more May than yesterday. For the concert we sat in the sun on the concrete sidewalk. It was in the mid-70’s. The sun beat me down despite the straw hat and the cold water. The concert though was wonderful as was the audience.They hung around and sang along with The Beach Boy songs. Today will stay in the 60’s. It is clear and sunny with a breeze. While my coffee was brewing, I stood outside for a while and watched the dogs. It was pleasant standing there.

I will continue my cleaning frenzy today. The dining room is next. It is better than the living room was. I can’t write a novel in the dust, only a short story.

When I was a kid, I think May was my favorite month. The air was sweet with flowers. The trees were green and full. Some mornings a sweater was enough. We dawdled a bit on the walk to school. In the afternoons we could play outside longer every day. My bike stayed out of the cellar.

I believed pretty much everything my mother told me. She was the explainer. Carrots helped me see in the dark. Beggars can’t be choosers though I had no idea what that meant until I was older, but it did stop me in my tracks as it was meant to. I had this vision of a lump of gum sitting for years in my stomach. Lying not only made my nose grow but it also turned my tongue black. Santa keeps his eyes on you all year long which is sort of creepy if you think about it. Crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue could be causes of permanent facial deformation. Drinking coffee would stunt my growth. Eating too much chocolate would cause acne. I never went outside with wet hair as I didn’t want to court a cold. I believed that chocolate milk came from brown cows. When I was older, I realized that my mother believed some of these things she told us like not swimming after eating so we wouldn’t get cramps and drown and not sitting close to the TV so we wouldn’t go blind, but others were lies with good intentions.

My dance card has my weekly uke events but the schedule is a bit weird. On Tuesday I have both a concert and my usual practice while on Wednesday I have my lesson and an afternoon concert. I still need a dump run and a few groceries. Life goes on.

Today is perfectly lovely. It is a day to sit outside and bask in the warmth of the sun. We have already hit 64°. A slight breeze is ruffling the oak leaves. The blue sky is striking. I think I need a bit of deck time.

When I came downstairs this morning, I noticed I had forgotten to shut the back door. I’ve done that before so it is not an indicator of creeping dementia. The last time I did Henry went out and didn’t come in because for him the dog door is only one way, out. That time his barking woke me up so I went downstairs to let him back into the house. This time he stayed put.

Things seem to carry with us the whole of our lives. When I was a kid, I read all the science fiction books in the town library. They were on a tall, narrow shelf on the wall behind the librarian’s desk. There weren’t so many of them so it was easy to read them all. I still read science fiction. I loved the classic monster movies like Dracula and The Mummy. Every Halloween now I watch one or two of them. I alternate. When I was 11, I vowed I would travel. I would see the world. It is a vow I have kept the whole of my life. The sights I have seen amaze me, tickle me. It was when I was in the eighth grade that President Kennedy started the Peace Corps. I knew I’d serve some day. I held on to that dream, maybe even that expectation, through high school and college. I still remember the joy I felt when I received my acceptance letter. I was going to Africa, a place I hadn’t imagined.

As for the more mundane hanging around after all these years, I have always hated beans of any sort but especially baked beans. I find them disgusting looking. I liked cream corn but hated to look at it and didn’t want it to slide into any other food on my plate. I feel the same about oozing cream corn. When I was young, people served Jello with fruits suspended inside. I didn’t like Jello anyway, and, when served with the fruit, it looked almost alien. I could imagine the fruit having huge teeth and chomping on the spoon. I have never eaten Jello.

I have a to do list for today including a trip to the dump. I want to polish the living room furniture with a real cloth instead of my sweatshirt sleeve. I’ll vacuum the dog hair balls in the hall. They mar my sensibilities. I’ll water the plants.

I may not have time tomorrow to write and publish Coffee. I have an early concert and will be leaving home around 10:40. It is our first outdoor concert, and the weather will be perfect, in the 70’s, yup, the 70’s.

Today is an ugly day. It is cloudy and cold, at 56°. It is a hold your cup between your hands to keep your hands warm day. The dogs stay in and sleep on the couch. They are into comfort. They are my role models.

When I was a kid, I never thought about really getting old. I couldn’t wait until I was a teenager then I wanted to be the magic age of twenty one which brought voting and drinking legally. My first presidential election was between Humphrey-Nixon. My choice lost though later I felt vindicated. When I was in Washington the summer of Watergate, I saw Senator Humphrey and had him sign the book I was reading, Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. Somehow it seemed the perfect book for him. I still have the book and have flagged it as a keeper on my bookshelf. My next milestone was turning thirty, the mantra of never trusting anyone over thirty in my head. After that, celebrations on my birthdays got sketchy. I remember 50 and 70 as special. I figure the next special will be 80.

I see the world through young eyes in an old body. It has been a while, but I’m still adjusting. I keep thinking I can do what I can no longer do. I can’t, but I keep trying. The problem will be solved if I get a Sherpa, a handyman, a house cleaner and a lady’s maid. Maybe I should take out some ads!

I love roosters welcoming the morning. It is like they know how good a new day is every day. I had a rooster in Ghana. He was brown. He was loud. He was still around when I left. When I went back for the first time, a rooster crowing outside my window woke me up. I listened for a while then fell back to sleep. I was happy to hear the rooster. He made me smile.

I have an Alexa and a Google. I favor the Alexa. The Google is ridiculous at times. Yesterday I asked my Google how far it is between the Hawaiian Islands and California. He told me he couldn’t find driving instructions. I reframed the question, necessary for using Google, and asked again, same answer, common for Google. I asked my Alexa the exact same first question. She told me 2400 miles. Sometimes my idiot Google doesn’t give an answer but says something nonsensical. I’ve decided to switch the kitchen Alexa for the frustrating den Google. I’m hoping Google can figure out kitchen equivalents. Alexa surely could.

On my dance card, tomorrow is my household work day. I want to dust and water plants and maybe do a dump run as I can’t on Sunday as I have my first outdoor concert of the season. It is supposed to be the warmest day so far this spring, 68°, so I’m looking forward to lots of sun and strumming.

I apologize for being missing. Tuesday was medical day. I now have the cleanest teeth. From there I went to a drop in medical center to have my leg checked. It was a fiasco. I left after an hour having seen no one. I don’t want to go into it, but the woman at the counter is lucky. I wanted to unleash a firestorm of sarcasm when she asked me what I wanted. My first instinct was to say to check the comfort of the stairs and what is on TV but I bit my tongue instead. It bled profusely. I left to go down cape to Fontaine in Harwich. It was perfect. My leg has nothing broken, but it will take weeks to heal. I’m relieved. It was late afternoon by the time I got home.

Today is an ugly day. It is chilly, and it will rain. I have been so busy of late my poor sloth is muttering to herself. My dogs wonder who I am. Jack ignores me except when I give him his treats. My only free day is Saturday.

The cardinal couple is still around. They are building a nest. I saw the male with a tiny stick in his mouth. This morning I noticed two mourning doves lying in the front garden. A blue jay flew by. What a lovely way to start the day.

One of my first memories is an Easter Sunday when I was 3. We lived in an apartment complex in South Boston. I was wearing my Easter clothes and was outside when one of our neighbors wanted to take a picture. I remember being a bit shy about it, not usual for me, and I can see the shyness in the tilt of my head, and the way I am standing. The picture is black and white, but I remember my coat was blue. It had white buttons. I am also wearing patent leather shoes with a strap, white ankle socks, a round hat and white gloves. I don’t think I have ever been fancier.

When I was in high school, I had a teacher who alternated between two suits. We made fun of her and decided one was her summer-spring outfit while the other was fall-winter. I have become that teacher. I have two dresses, one for winter and another for spring. They are both flowered. If I added clunky, laced black shoes, I could be my grandmother.

I have a concert this afternoon at a new place. It is still Beach Boys’ music month. I will wear a Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat I bought in Marrakech and some colorful leis. I figure this gloomy day needs a touch of color.

Today would be a far better April day. It is damp, cloudy and cold. The morning has been slow. I hadn’t the incentive or the energy to do anything. The house was cold. I was cold. I didn’t turn on the heat. It is May. I sit fine but getting up is painful. I banged my cut thumb. I yelped. It hurt. I keep finding mice. I think there is a never ending supply under the bed in Jack’s room. Yesterday I vacuumed the whole downstairs and swept the kitchen. It was exhausting.

I’m thinking I should stop listing my ills and my complaints. I figure you’ve already figured out my mood. It perfectly matches the day. I even screamed a couple of times. Nala cocked her head, looked at me and wagged her tail, her way of telling me she cares. Henry watched with what I think was a look of concern.

I have no real heavy chores for today. I’m going to clean the silver utensils on the butcher’s block, maybe a silly task but one I can do sitting down and can see the end result, the beauty of the old silver filagree. I’m going to change my bed and take a shower.

The sun is breaking through the clouds. I decided to turn on the heat. I had no reason other than inviting misery to stay cold. I had another cup of coffee and toast with fig jam. I have decided to turn around the day.

When I first finished training and went to live at my school in Ghana, it was quite the transition. I had lost the friends I had made and the comfort of a shared experience. We all gone our separate ways. I was living alone for the first time. I did not teach well. I spoke too quickly with an American accent. I was lonely. I wrote letters describing my life, all I was seeing, the wonder of Ghana and how every day was amazing. I stayed away from how I was feeling only because I didn’t want to stress out my parents. I then started to write letters about how I really felt, but I tore them up when I was finished. They gave me a release. I started to figure out teaching. I got good at it. I got busy. I loved waking up every morning to a new day.

Today Coffee is the letters I tore up. I already feel better. Thanks for listening, sort of listening!