Keep the Coffee Comimg

The morning is warmer than I expected. The sky is overcast with light grey clouds. Here we are in January and it is 45˚, still sweatshirt weather.

It is time to finish Christmas. The living room decorations and the trees are the only signs of Christmas left. I was waiting for Little Christmas before I tackled the trees. I have a plan, a deconstructing Christmas plan. I’m going to bring up the bins, fill them and then pile them in the dining room for Skip to take down to the cellar. I’m going to cover the little pine tree and have it ready for the cellar. The real tree I’ll cover for Skip to take outside. My house, once Christmas is gone, always looks empty and dark.

When I was a kid, my mother took off all the tree lights and ornaments when we were in school. The tree was there in the morning and gone by the afternoon.

I still have an old time Sunday state of mind. When I was a kid, nothing was open on Sunday except the red store, known only by color, not by name. It had piles of Sunday papers on the sidewalk in front overseen by a kid collecting money. My father for some reason never had the Sunday paper delivered even though the rest of the week was so he’d stop and buy one. We got dressed up for church and wore our Sunday clothes which meant a dress or skirt for me and a hat or a mantilla or a piece of Kleenex if I had nothing else. We had a family dinner Sunday afternoon except in the summer. The dinner was always special and never any form of hamburger, a common meal the rest of the week. We had mashed potatoes and a few canned vegetables. TV families had bread on the table, not special bread but just ordinary pieces of white bread. We never did. I don’t remember napkins. I think we bought our plates to the counter by the sink. My mother did the dishes. She’d wash them and they’d dry in the rack. We’d stay around the rest of the day and watch TV, read or play in the cellar. Sunday was a quiet day, the only one.

Today is an ugly day, dark and rainy. I am staying close to home today. Maybe I’ll do some laundry. The laundry bag aka pillow slip has been sitting in the hall so long it has grown legs.

When I was a kid, my father thought sending me to my room was the worst punishment. I always thought of it as a reward. I could shut the door and block out the noise from the rest of the house. I’d get in my comfy clothes, lie in bed and read. I could stay there for hours. Inevitably my father would come to my room to see if I was repentant. I always wanted to say no so I could continue my exile, but that was a risky choice so I said yes though I wasn’t all that repentant. I had played my father, a skill I learned early in life. He never caught on.

Winter was always my least favorite season when I was a kid. Take away Christmas, ice skating and sledding and nothing much was left. When I walked to and from school every day, it was always some degree of cold. My mother bundled us every morning as if we were crossing the ice to the North Pole. I liked being warm, but I hated the amount of time it took to unbundle once I was in the cloak room. There were never enough hooks in the cloak room for all of us to hang our coats. I just pushed mine between two other coats, and it stayed there, off the floor.

I can’t imagine life without a dog or cat or both. Having a pet is a love affair. I grew up with a dog and much later we added a cat. In Ghana I had a cat who came home with me. My roommate had a dog so I didn’t get a dog of my own until I moved into my house. I’ve always had two cats and a dog until this year. I lost Fern first. Gracie was next then Maddie. Gracie was the most painful loss. She was my constant companion and came everywhere with me. Her death left a hole. Henry is filling that hole every time he wags his tail when he sees me.

My friends Tony and Clare loss their dog this morning, their Darci Rose. She was funny, affectionate and sweet. I cried for Tony and Clare and for Darci Rose.

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, but no rain is predicted. I’m thinking a grumpy Mother Nature is just spewing the sky with clouds. Today is warmish, in the mid 40’s with no breeze.

I have nothing whatsoever scheduled for today. It’s a grand feeling. It means I have another day all to myself. That may seem greedy as I now have many days like today, but for most of my life my days were scheduled with school, work, chores or errands, and I’d like to even the score.

In many ways I am obsolete. The words and phrases of my youth have disappeared. When was the last time anyone ever asked for a church key? I remember calling dibs for a window seat in the car. I wore thongs on my feet. We got blitzed at parties. Couples made out at the drive-in and in the back row of the movie theater. Some couples even went all the way which might have resulted in the family way and the girl going to her aunt’s. Some people were stuck up; others were finks. Life was cool, a gas and groovy.

My mother taught me lots of words. She used the word kibosh, and from her I also learned nosh. In a jiffy is another and so is before you can say Jack Robinson. I always wondered why it was Jack Robinson. I used rob Peter to pay Paul the other day and must have dragged that one from the way back of my memory drawer. I wonder if kids get in hot water anymore.

When I worked, I knew the current slang as kids were in and out of my office all day. I do admit, though, when I first heard the word ho, I thought of a garden and couldn’t imagine why two girls would fight over one being called a garden hoe. As I listened to their sides of the story, I learned the meaning from context. I’m so glad I didn’t ask.

The morning has been a strange one. I slept late again. It was mirror under the nose time. Henry woke me up. He was jumping on and off the bed. I knew he wanted out so I dragged myself out of bed. In the hall I found my foot cozies. I had worn them to bed. How Henry got them I haven’t any idea. They were wet.

In the middle of reading the Globe and having my second cup of coffee, my friend Clare called. She and Tony had taken their dog, Darci Rose, to the eye specialist who had operated on Darci’s eye which was now weeping and inflamed. The decision was to remove her eye, but there was a complication. Darci is diabetic and needed an insulin shot before the surgery. The insulin was home. They called me. I got the insulin and syringes, sped to Sagamore and met them. When I say sped, I mean flying low, Star Wars landspeeder low, “No, state trooper, this is not the car you are looking for.” I think I was just a blur to other drivers. I was first to Sagamore, got gas and waited. After the hand-off, I went home far more slowly.

When I was a kid, our dog Duke went to the vets only for shots. One time he was in a ferocious dog fight. The other dog was bigger and heavier, but Duke was scrappy and fierce. After the fight, the other dog limped off. Duke had a horrible bite around his neck. My father said it would be fine. He left Monday morning for Maine where he was working all week. He was only home on weekends. After he left, my mother immediately took Duke to the vet’s who stitched the wound and gave him antibiotics. My father never found out. Duke’s wound was healing when my dad got home on Friday. He said to my mother, “See, I told you it would be fine.” That was one of the best lessons I learned from my mother. Don’t argue. It will get you nowhere. Just do what needs to be done and keep quiet about it.

Mother Nature has welcomed the new year with sun and warmth. The high today will be in the 50’s. Tonight, though, it will drop to the 20’s. Winter keeps reminding us that it holds sway.

Last night was quiet, but I still made it to midnight. I wished Henry a Happy New Year but he was sleeping and cares little about what day it is. Henry is only concerned about breakfast and dinner.

All right, here’s the deal. Somehow I deleted what I’d written, and the automatic save draft saved the sparse new one. I’m not happy!! My muse was tardy this morning so it took me a while to write. I was doing the final proof when Coffee disappeared into the ether.

The only thing I remember is the last paragraph. I mentioned that I’d start taking Christmas down tomorrow, and that I figure it will take a couple of days. I won’t turn the outside lights off until the day after Little Christmas. I figure the Three Kings need lights to guide them.

Happy New Year!!

Today is hazy. The sky is filled with white clouds. The sun is somewhere behind them. It is 40˚, just about the predicted high for the day. Yesterday I put away most of my Christmas presents. I also Swiffered the path Henry takes to the back door. It is always filled with tuffs of Henry hair. I count yesterday as industrious.

When I was a kid, I wanted to stay up until midnight so I could welcome the new year. Mostly I fell asleep before the ball fell. When I finally did make it to midnight, blowing horns and yelling, “Happy New Year!” just didn’t seem all that exciting.

This past year I lost Gracie and Maddie. I still miss those babies, but Henry is filling the void. He is a sweet, loving boy.

I don’t make resolutions. I’ve never kept any so I don’t figure to set myself up for failure so early in the new year. I don’t have any plans for this coming year. My life has settled down comfortably.

If you had asked me when I was twelve to picture myself as an adult, I think I would have come close to me now. Well-traveled would have been an easy one. I knew when I was eleven I’d travel the world. I have snapshots in my mind’s eye of wonders I have seen and amazing adventures I’ve had. I’m standing on the equator just outside Quito with a foot in each hemisphere. It is midnight sun time in Finnish Lapland and reindeer are being herded into a field. A camel is running away with me in the Sahara. I’m looking through a window an Inca looked through in Machu Picchu. I’m traveling through Russia in a train. I’m in a glider. I’m in a hot air balloon. I’m riding a mammy lorry. It’s taking me home to Bolga.

I am happy to welcome a new year. I am always hopeful it will be a better year than the old one. May it be the best year!

Happy New Year!

The day is mostly overcast. Here and there a bit of blue is peeking through the clouds. The sun is just a bright spot behind the clouds. It was chilly when I got the papers. It will stay in the 30’s today.

When I was a kid, I loved the snow. I’d spend a whole morning making forts in the piles left by the plow. I’d even eat my lunch inside the fort. The walls were icy, glasslike. I had to crawl through a tunnel on all fours to get inside. The main room was wide, and there were side tunnels off to smaller rooms. I remember one year my fort lasted longer than the snow did everywhere else.

The sidewalks on the way to school were shoveled, but I did have to walk on the street in a few places. I remember running and then sliding on the packed snow. An icy spot would sometimes do me in and down I’d go. Mostly I landed on my butt.

My father pulled our sleds behind his car on the street in front of our house. He never went fast enough for me.

I remember tobogganing at the Winchester Country Club when I was in high school. The hills were my favorites slides. Usually it was with my two best high school friends. Jimmy always took the back. He’d run and push then jump on and hope to sit. The hills were steep, and we’d sometimes go airborne. Jimmy often fell off.

One time after a storm I took a shovel and went to make some money shoveling walks. My friend Michele came with me. At one house, the snow was almost higher than we were tall. Michelle gave up after a while with little progress and went home. I stayed and finished. The lady gave me a hot chocolate with marshmallow floating across the top and paid me extra for going it alone. That was the only time I ever shoveled.

The morning is lovely with blue skies and sun. We’re in a warm day, freezing night weather cycle. It is in the 50’s now and will go down to the mid-20’s tonight. I’m just fine with that.

Everything is quiet. I haven’t been anywhere since Christmas, and I’ve been lolling about in a series of sloth days. Driven by a bit of guilt, I use my sweatshirt sleeve to clean as I walk by furniture hidden under a layer of dust, and I used the kettle to water a few plants this morning. That’s it, my entire list of semi-completed chores.

This is a boring week. Christmas is over. Nothing much is happening anywhere. I turn on my tree every night and the outside lights go on, but they are remnants of Christmas.

When I was a kid, if it was cold enough to freeze water, I’d go ice skating. The free rink was in Recreation Park. Every winter, the town put up a small building on the side of the field at the park and fenced in around it. A water truck filled the fenced area. That was the rink. I loved the little rink building. It had a wood stove to keep the hut warm and was the perfect place to take a break on one of the benches lining the inside walls. Under the benches were piles of shoes and boots. The last obstacle to going home was trying to find your pair of shoes.

I still have a pair of ice skates. I only use them for decoration. They hang off an old wooden sled outside. It has to be at least twenty years since I last skated. I didn’t enjoy the skating. It wasn’t at all what I remembered. My feet hurt.

It’s just about time for some eggnog. I’m going to use my moose mug.

No getting around it, today is an ugly winter’s day. It is rainy and windy and colder than the forecast. The dump was on my to do list today, but I’ve decided the dump can wait one more day. Cozy and comfy and warm are far more inviting.

The last few days, since Christmas, have been quiet. Yesterday I went through my presents again. I put away a couple of gifts and ate chocolate covered Devil Dogs, but the rest of my presents are still under the tree. Putting them all away is the beginning of the end.

I am watching a bad science fiction movie, bad being generous. The actors are totally unknown to me. The plots are repetitive, and the few special effects are silly. It is an almost perfect movie for me. It just needs to be in black and white.

During my first holiday season in Ghana, I went north after Christmas. With two of my friends I traveled to Ouagadougou in what is now Burkina Faso. Back then it was Upper Volta. We stayed a couple of days then took a Trans African bus to Niamey, Niger. The bus broke down. The driver, in Hausa, told me, “Ya ƙãre.” It is finished. We had to wait for another bus. By the time
we were back on the road, it was so late we ended up parked outside a post office all night as we had its mail. It was cold, desert at night during the harmattan cold. We had no blankets and no food as we had expected to be in Niamey. The driver was amazed I spoke some Hausa and had become a
bit of a friend. He shared his food and hot coffee with me and gave me a blanket. I shared it all with my friends. This second bus also broke down so, instead of waiting, we hitched to the border where we sat hoping for a ride. The border between Upper Volta and Niger was a long pole balanced on two barrels, one on each side of the road. Borders were casual back then. I got a ride and traveled on to Niamey and the Sahara. I traveled the whole of that first Christmas vacation. The last night before home, New Year’s Eve, was spent in Ouaga. I went to a party at the US ambassador’s house. It was amazing with white gloved servers and food I hadn’t seen I’d been in Africa. I drank champagne and toasted the new year. It was an unexpected and wonderful ending to the old year and to that first Christmas away from home.

It must have been a surprise to see a Wednesday posting yesterday, but I was still caught by the season and wanted to keep Christmas going just a tiny bit longer so I posted. I was having such a great day, I forgot to mention the Wednesday-Thursday switch this week.

My dance card for the rest of the week is empty. This is sort of how hibernation must feel. I’m just better situated than the bear.

Until tomorrow!