Today was warm, nearly 50˚, but it was damp. I stayed home and barely got beyond the sloth stage. I watered a few plants, straightened up and dusted a bit.

It is 2:30, and I am wide awake, Henry is sleeping. He had a difficult day yesterday because we went to the vet’s. Henry needed a regularly scheduled shot. The poor dog shook while we were in the waiting area. He got so close to me he was sitting on my feet, but despite his anxiety, I had to get him on the scale as we needed his weight for heartworm pills. He weighs 44 pounds. I kept patting him and talking to him hoping to comfort him. We next went into the exam room. The vet checked him out and tried to make friends. She offered him a few dog treats, but he wouldn’t eat them. She gave him some cheese and he slurped every bit. The technician then took him into the back room where he got his shot and had his nails clipped. Henry looked quite handsome in the snowman bandana they put on him.

When I was eight, my grandparents gave me a couple of Bobbsey Twin books. My grandmother wrote a birthday message. She had a flowery sort of handwriting. In some ways it looked like calligraphy. I always thought of it as old lady handwriting.

When I was a kid, I went to bed fairly early on school nights. I’d only read a bit before my mother would shout up the stairs for me to turn off the light. I’d complain it was too early, and she’d tell me to turn off the light. I did, but I wasn’t happy. I wanted to keep reading. My solution was to read under the covers so the light couldn’t be seen. It got really hot under those covers. My plastic light started to melt. I started to sweat. I’d take a break so the light and I would cool down then I’d go back to reading. Sometimes I got caught but not very often. I’d read until I started to fall asleep.

When I’d get a book for Christmas, I’d usually started reading it after dinner, after all the Christmas frenzy. My mother use to complain I was reading the book too fast. She said I should take my time. I didn’t know how to do that. I still don’t.

I played around with my computer. The last thing I tried was moving the cord to different USB ports. That worked.

Just an additional comment. Henry is addicted to coffee, not my blog, the real stuff. He tried to get at my cup on the table, and he even tried lapping when I bought the cup to my mouth. I don’t share coffee.

My Apple is dead. It opened then died. Using my iPad is driving me crazy. The only good part is the B works. The bad parts are the keyboard, and this dastardly machine quits and goes dark. There is a conspiracy afoot. It seems I’ll have to go to Hyannis tomorrow.

It is so cold. Right now it is 8 degrees. The high will be 12. When I went to get the paper, my front storm door wouldn’t open. The knob was frozen. Luckily the back door was open, but even that was a problem. I had to shoulder the gate so I could open it to the yard. It took 4 shoulder bangs before it opened. I was so happy to get back inside as the short exposure to the cold was too much. That cemented my decision to stay inside all day. I do have a couple of things I can do like finally bringing the laundry upstairs and cataloging the Christmas presents.

I would be posting my Martin Luther King tribute but not with this machine. I can’t tolerate the aggravation.

I don’t know when I’ll be back. Coffee is officially on hiatus.

The morning is dark and damp and really cold. I should have layered just to get the papers. I’m about to brew more coffee. Today is a hot drink day.

When I was a kid, I was a cocoa fan. I drank it every morning. My mother would make both cocoa and tea and have them ready when we got downstairs. My brother drank the tea. She used to put the tea bags in a teapot, add the boiling water then put the pot in the middle of the table. She made cocoa cup by cup. She’d use a spoon to pry open the metal top of the cocoa then she’d put a couple of heaping teaspoons into the cup then add water or milk. She always bought Hershey’s cocoa. I remember the top had a slot so the empty tin became a bank. I had cocoa last week, two cups of peppermint cocoa mixed in milk. I was only going to have one cup, but it was so good I had to have a second cup.

Our toast was always made with white bread. That’s all my mother used to  buy. I don’t even think we knew there were other kinds of bread. Now I seldom buy white bread. I don’t have have a favorite but some breads are better suited for certain meals. Scali bread goes with Italian. French bread is perfect for bruschetta. Bagels, croissants and English muffins are for breakfast though they’ll also do for sandwiches. You can’t have hummus without pita bread. I also buy naan and lavash. In my kitchen right now you’ll find a single leftover English muffin, some rye bread, tortillas and naan. I like to use naan for pizzas.

I’m watching The Mark of Zorro with Tyrone Power. I’ve seen it many times  but not in a while. Zorro has just made his first appearance to wonderfully stirring music. It was Disney’s Zorro which introduced the character to me. I didn’t wondered why no one, especially his father, noticed Zorro sounded like Don Diego and even looked like him below the mask. It was the same with Superman and his curl and Clark and his glasses. I didn’t know the words for it back then, but now I know about suspension of disbelief.

There was a dusting of snow on the ground when I woke up. It quickly melted. A real snow storm is predicted for Saturday going into Sunday. The cape will get ice and rain while Boston could get as many as 12 inches of snow. They are welcome to it. The local news at noon started with the storm then the Patriots then Pelosi’s terminated jaunt, an interesting order of importance.

Henry drank the last few gulps of my coffee yesterday morning. I had left the cup on the table in the den when I went to the kitchen. The cup was empty when I got back to the den. This morning Henry was on the couch side me. He watched my cup go from the table to my mouth every time I took a sip. He even stayed beside me until I finished. He didn’t get coffee. He did get a treat.

When I was a kid, the worst thing was snow like this morning’s. It raised hopes of no school and a day for sledding then the snow stopped. The only person happy was my mother.

When I was growing up, I never cooked with my mother nor did I do laundry. I had to do both when I got to college. The first time the washing machine buzzed and wouldn’t work I had no idea what was wrong. The clothes were soaked. I took them out of the machine and hand wrung them then put the clothes on the inside line. When it happened a second time, I asked for help. The solution was easy: redistribute the load. My friend thought my incompetence was funny. I had an apartment in my junior year of college. I could cook hot dogs and hamburgers, and I could open any can. Dinty Moore beef stew was a favorite. My roommate added dumplings. I was amazed she could just whip up dumplings. She could also make gravy. I was astounded. We ate well when it was her turn to cook dinner.

I really enjoy cooking. Laundry I still don’t like, and I put off doing it as long as possible. Translation: until I run out of underwear. Yesterday I did two loads of laundry.

We’ve had sun the last two days, but it has been so very cold. Yesterday I went to the dump and froze in the short time it took me to unload the car. From there I went to the bank and to Rings, one of my favorite stores, where I managed to spend almost the whole gift card my sister had given me for Christmas. I have a list of places to go today, but I’m going to wait until tomorrow.

I broke down and vacuumed yesterday. The dog hair had become too much, and in the living room there were still needles. Henry ran. He stayed upstairs until I was finished.

The gnats are still here. They dive bomb me I’m guessing in retaliation for all their deceased brethren. I have become adept at nabbing them in midair. I got two this morning.

When I was growing up, I wasn’t afraid of bugs or snakes. I was more fascinated than anything. I loved catching grasshoppers when they jumped out of the tall grass in the field below my house. I used my hands. Mostly I remember garter snakes. I’d watch them slither across the grass, and I’d follow them until they hid in the bushes. A praying mantis on the front steps held my attention for the longest time.

In Ghana, when I first arrived, I saw lizards scurrying across walkways in front of me. I was delighted. My first African snake was a boa which had eaten a chicken. I could see the bulge inside the snake. Good thing for me the snake was lethargic as it digested its dinner.

That wouldn’t be my last boa. My students threw stones at one in the bushes outside my classroom. Another boa feasted on my free range chickens. That one I didn’t see.

Miracles really happen. Today is sunny. It is also a bit warmer at 32˚, but I am not enticed to go gallivanting. I am not even enticed to get dressed. Today will be another in a long line of sloth days.

I’ve been watching movies all morning. I keep jumping from movie to movie until I find one I want to watch. The last one, Giant from the Unknown, was laugh out loud awful so I loved it. It joins the ranks of such movies as The Giant Spider, one of those sorts where the whole plot is encapsulated in the title. Now I’m watching Jack’s Apocalypse which reminds me of a novel I read with some similar plot details called Alas, Babylon, the ending of which I liked. I didn’t like the the ending of the movie. In most other B-movies, the creatures, the aliens, the animals run amok and the crazed humans are done in by the gallant heroes. I like those endings.

My cleaning frenzy continues. Today is vacuum and dust day. I do have laundry piled high enough to be a hillock, but I don’t care because I can’t see it. The dust I can see. It tends to swirl around when I walk by it. The stairs are the worst.

When I was a kid, I never saw my mother clean and seldom saw her do laundry. She did all of that while we were in school. We’d leave in the morning with dishes on the counter, beds unmade and the hamper filled with clothes. When we got home, the house was immaculate and the clean laundry had been put away. Shortly after that my mother started dinner. That woman was a whirlwind.

My car was covered in frost this morning. I was glad I wasn’t going anywhere. It is probably melted now, but I’m still staying home.

Today is cloudy and cold again. The weather is supposed to change tomorrow as we’ll have sun, but it will still be cold. Winter is firmly entrenched.

Henry’s collar has been found. It was in the pocket of the pants I had hung up in the closet the other day. When I took the pants out to wear yesterday, I wondered what was in the pocket. Surprise! Surprise! It was his collar. It was surprise, surprise again when Henry let me slip the collar over his head as was a Mr. Hyde day, a day Henry didn’t want to be near me. Today he is Doctor Jekyll.

When I was a kid, I was a bit feisty. I always had an answer for everything. My father never appreciated my quick retorts. I could see the veins in his neck pop when he got mad at me. My brother and I called it veining him out, and we competed to see who could vein him out the most. I think I won.

My mother threw things. I remember dodging a dictionary, but slippers were her favorite projectiles. They were our favorites too as they were easily evaded. That made my mother more than a bit testy so she started making us bring them back to her. We refused. That never went over too well so we’d bring them back under duress. She’d whack us, but it never really hurt. We’d pretend it did. Eventually she caught on and changed tactics. “I’m telling your father,” was next. That stopped us in our tracks.