I am already behind closed doors and shut windows as the heat and humidity are still here. It was cool enough last night that the AC was off, but it is back on now and blowing its little heart out.

I had a surprise this morning. My mouse trap had an occupant. Even before my coffee, I took the trap, left the house and drove about a mile before I freed the wee creature. It was small and brown. When I swept the kitchen floor the other day, yup I do occasionally sweep, I saw mouse poop so I set the trap. Later, I’ll reset the trap by adding more peanut butter.

When I was a kid, my father hunted bugs in the house, especially mosquitos. He’d arm himself with a rolled up newspaper and go from room to room. I remember being awakened by my father walking on my bed while he swatted mosquitos on the ceiling. The rooms in our house had blots of dead bugs on all the ceilings. My father was a mighty hunter.

I remember mosquitos buzzing my ear. I’d brush them away with my hand but the mosquitos always came back. In Ghana, my language instructor Lawal told us why the mosquito buzzes ears. It seems mosquito fell in love with ear and proposed. Ear thought the proposal quite funny and said no. Mosquito, undaunted by ear’s refusal, buzzes ear every night to say he is still around, waiting for a yes.

Today is dump day. Henry doesn’t yet know the joy of riding in a car so no dump for him. Poor Henry has no idea what he’s missing. All my girls loved the dump.

I have a few chores for today. I need to change my bed and do a wash even though I swear I just did a wash the other day. I remember the filled pillow case lying against the cellar door for a few days before I got tired of seeing it and finally took it downstairs. This load,though, is still upstairs, the first stop on its way to the washing machine.

Today the school buses rolled. One even went down my street. That’s about as close I ever again want to get to a school bus again.

The sun is just breaking out. There is a breeze which ruffles the leaves, but it is already hot and humid. It will be an ugly day.

Maddie and Henry are asleep. I’d like to join them as I’m tired. For some reason of late my sleep is filled with dreams which I tell myself to remember, but mostly I don’t. A couple are offshoots of what I’ve watched on TV except I’m part of the action. Last night I was in the Middle East.

Acorns keep falling off the trees and bouncing on the deck. One end of the deck is filled with them though the deck was cleared on Friday. Wearing something on my feet is a necessity.

When I was a kid, most of the stores were closed. The only ones open were the small corner stores like the Red Store and the White Store ( I never knew them by name, only by color) near my house. I don’t remember any particular celebrations. I don’t even remember if we had barbecues. What I do remember is taking my night before school starts bath and laying out my clothes. The opening day was one of the two days I didn’t have to wear a uniform so we always had new clothes for the day. I readied my new school bag, and I put my new pencil box inside it. My mother made lunch and packed it in my new lunch box. When I was young, the lunch box had characters on it like Annie Oakley. When I got older, it had colors and patterns. I remember one in a black and red tartan scheme.

This is from a previous post, “The real meaning of Labor Day has been blurred. It was first celebrated in the early 1880’s as a day to honor laborers, “who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold.” The first states to recognize the day were Massachusetts, Oregon, New York, Colorado and New Jersey. It became a holiday in 1884 and was a day for parades and speeches, all meant to honor workers and the contributions of the American labor movement.”  Perhaps it’s time to bring back the real meaning of Labor Day!

Today is another beautiful day. It will be the last for a bit as the heat and humidity are  returning tomorrow. We’re talking 90’s again and air conditioning. Mother Nature did it. She lulled me into a false sense of fall by the last couple of days.

I have a few errands today. One is to the farm stand, and that one is my favorite. I get to buy all those wonderful fresh vegetables and more salsa chips. I know that last one sounds strange, but the stand does sell the best tasting chips.

Today is sunny and bearably warm. The Sox are playing a day game. I’ll be watching.

I prefer swimming in fresh water more than salt which is a bit ironic given where I live. I like the beach, the sandy part, and I like watching the waves. I chuckle at the seagulls.

My mother made the best brownies. She made them from ingredients, not a box. She always iced them in chocolate frosting and use jimmies for an added touch. I never ate just one of those brownies.

Yesterday I planted the flowers in the deck pots. Now I just need to plant the two remaining flowers in my front garden. A couple of them have bloomed. The flowers are purple and puffy looking.

Charlie Baker, the governor, is running for re-election. He is quite popular here even though he is a republican. I like that people in Massachusetts vote the person not the party, but I am already sick of Charlie Baker. His ads are all over the place. I can’t watch a youTube video without him popping up first. The same ad is on TV over and over. He does have an opponent in the primary, but I have no idea who it is. I doubt anyone knows so pull back those ads, Charlie.

I haven’t baked in a while. I use my oven as an extra cabinet for storing mostly crackers and cereal so when I use the oven it has to be cleared first. Once I missed something in the back, and it turned all black from the preheating. Now I always double check.

I read an article which discussed which was correct: dwarfs or dwarves. I would figure dwarfs was and there is no reason for the change in form to dwarves. It seems “dwarves” was coined by Tolkien about 80 years ago to give his dwarves a dignity that dwarfs could hardly attain. So successful have his stories been that “dwarves” seems to be superseding “dwarfs” as the regular plural of “dwarf”,  but don’t worry: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs will stay the same.

Today is already horribly different than yesterday. The house was 76˚ by ten this morning. When I went to get the papers, I was assaulted by the heat. I didn’t even stop to admire my garden. The air conditioner is working its little heart out to cool the house. Today will be a run from the air conditioned house to the air conditioned car as I have a couple of errands. I have finally started the laundry. It stayed in the hall for days, and I couldn’t stand looking at it any more.

Yesterday was a wonderful day. I sat on the deck all afternoon reading and munching on fresh nacho chips from the farm stand and mango-pineapple salsa. As it got dark, I started a fire in my chiminea. It wasn’t really cold out, but there was a breeze. I loaded the chiminea with piñon wood. The aroma was wonderful. I figured the neighborhood could probably smell it as the breeze took the smoke northward. I stayed outside until the wood was mere embers.

I have favorite smells. One of my favorites is the smell of wood charcoal burning. That is the smell I remember the most from Ghana. The Ghanaians cooked outside over small fires of wood charcoal. It was the first smell of the morning and the last of the evening. Before I bought my gas grill, I had a charcoal grill. I always used wood charcoal instead of the briquets just for the aroma. The Christmas tree is my next favorite. During the Christmas season I love getting down the stairs to the living room in the morning because I get to smell the wonderful pine of the tree which permeates the whole downstairs. My long ago favorite smell was the leaves during the fall. On Saturdays, the lawns were raked and the leaves piled in the road next to the sidewalks. There were piles up and down the street each guarded by a rake wielding father from the neighborhood. The smoke from those piles wafted in the air all blown in the same direction by the wind.

Fresh bread, coffee brewing and turkey baking are some of the best kitchen smells. I remember Gracie and the cat used to sit in front of the oven when the turkey was baking. They had high hopes because they knew I’d give each of them pieces of turkey every time I had some myself.

My den now has a bit of a dog smell from Henry. That never happened with any of my other dogs. I’ve bought a cleaner for the couch, but I haven’t yet gotten enough energy to clean the couch cushions. Remember, my laundry sat in the hall for days.

I love these mornings. My den, my favorite place in the house and the room where I spend a good portion of my time, is still chilly from the night air. The sun hasn’t worked its way around to this side of the house yet. Today’s high temperature will in the 70’s and the low will be tonight in the high 50’s. That sounds like an ideal day to me.

Today is Women’s Equality Day celebrating the 1920 passage of the Nineteenth Amendment. When I was growing up, I never knew women had once been denied the right to vote. My mother alway had the right to vote but not my grandmothers. I was so impatient waiting for the first time I could vote, and twenty-one just seemed so away. When it finally came, I remember going to the town hall on my birthday to register. My first vote went to Hubert Humphrey for president in 1968. I am proud of having chosen Humphrey. I always vote, even in the smallest town elections. It is a gift, the right to vote, and one I never take lightly.

August is the month of birthdays in my family. My favorite uncle, my niece, my sister and I share the month. It is also the month my mother was born. Every August 13th I wish her a happy birthday and let her know how much she is missed by all of us. This year she would have been 91. My memory drawers are filled with pictures and memories of my mother and me.

Life is really a quilt of moments sewn together without any thought to design, color or shape. The whiff of a familiar smell or the shape of a hand or the color of a shirt brings back a moment and connects us with an experience, never forgotten but seldom recalled. We hear a few notes from a long ago song, and, with a whoosh, the rest of the experience comes roaring into our memories and floods us with all the people and places forever connected to that song, memories we had shelved. The smell of a pie transports me to a small kitchen at 16 Washington Ave and the baking mitt on my mother’s hand. All of a sudden I’m remembering Thanksgiving and Christmas and cinnamon and sugar cookies, all triggered by the memory of my mother wearing that mitt and pulling a shelf from the oven.

The morning is again lovely. A breeze is keeping the predicted heat at bay for a while although I can already feel it in the air. The sky has a few clouds so the sun hides for a bit but it always returns.

Saturday has always been the best day. When I was a kid, it meant no school and a day to do whatever I wanted. Any homework was pushed off until Sunday. Even when I was a teacher it was the same. Saturday was my day for me. Sunday was prepare lessons, do chores and go to the dump day. On Saturday I could stay up as late as I wanted. On Sunday it was early to bed to get ready for Monday. It is no wonder Sunday and Monday were not on my list of favorite days.

Ghana was a little bit different. I did use Sunday to prepare lessons for Monday, but that was all I did. My students had a service of sorts on Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon was visiting day. Any student expecting a visitor was dressed in her finest cloth in a three piece outfit which included not only a top and bottom but also a wrap around the waist. This is the same wrap mothers used to carry babies on their backs. Photographers were hired and pictures were taken, always in black and white. Many students gifted me with a picture. They seldom smiled. I always wrote their names on the back. Mostly I stayed home on Sunday unless it was market day. Students without company came to visit. They stayed for only a while. By late afternoon, visiting was over.

Peapod arrived so I had to take a break, but I have just finished putting my groceries away. I indulge myself with no guilt. Thursday the house was cleaned. Yesterday the lawn was mowed. I’d pay for the trash man to come, but I’d have to haul barrels from the back to the front going and coming so I’ll save the effort and the money and keep going to the dump. It was always a fun ride for Miss Gracie and maybe it will be the same some day for Henry.