Today is perfection. The humidity is nearly gone, the sun is shining and there is a breeze coming through the backdoor. All the windows are open to the fresh morning air. It is quiet. I hear only birds. I am delighted.

When I go back to my old town, I take a ride around some of the familiar places of my childhood. I remembered who lived in what house and wondered about my childhood friends. Somewhere along we grew away and apart from each other. What I have are some wonderful memories of a small town, games of ball, walking and biking all over  and playing in each other’s backyards. The town is so much larger now but some parts look exactly the same to me. I drove down the street where the rag man used to live and keep his wares. I remember a sagging porch filled with stacks of newspapers. A trash company is there now which sort of gives some symmetry to the site. I went down the street where I used to cut throught the woods to home. The woods are gone now. I drove up the hill to where we used to live. That hill was the best fun riding down on your bike. Going up meant furious pedaling getting harder and harder until about the midway point when I would walk my bike the rest of the way. When I finally made it up the whole hill, I raised my arms in triumph. All the streets and all the houses around look exactly the same. The brick house around the corner was a favorite of mine because of the bricks. The house across the street is huge and white, just as I remember. I forgot to check to see if there is still a grape arbor.

This town represents so much to me. It’s where I grew up and where I learned about friendship and taking risks. It’s where I slept in the backyard and pretended I was camping, where I first went to school and found the joy of reading, where the library was one of the coolest spots on a summer’s day, where I’d watch the lobsters in the fish market’s tank and go to matinees at the movies. That old town of mine will always have a piece of home attached.

The sun was shining when I woke up. Since then the clouds have taken over and the day is dark. I turned off the AC to get some air, but the house has gotten hot quickly. Even poor Henry is panting. The forecast is maybe rain today and tomorrow. Tonight we hope to do movie night so I want the rain to hold off until tomorrow, but I do want rain.

Around 2:30 Henry started barking. He kept it up for a while so he did hear something. I turned on my bedroom light and started to get up to investigate, but he stopped so I went back to sleep. I figure his fierce barking is a wonderful deterrent to anyone contemplating thievery.

The tempo of life and marching to a different drummer make living sound musical. Kicked the bucket and bought the farm give death an agricultural bent. In between the living and the dying are euphemisms gone crazy. My friend occasionally drops sugar honey ice tea into the conversation. These are not drink choices, and the first letter of each word will give you a better idea of her mood. My thought here is if you’re agitated enough, drop the drink options. A spot of profanity is good for the soul. I noticed that people don’t go to the bathroom any more. This is not a medical crisis. It’s just that they now go to the powder room, the restroom or the head even though women no longer use powder, nobody rests in a restroom, and unless you’re in the military, there is no head, so to speak. I won’t even describe my reactions to the use of little girls’ or boys’ room. Why does the use of the bathroom need a euphemism or two or more? We all have to go so we should just tell it like it is: I’m going to the bathroom. Nope, not difficult at all.

Now we all need to keep in mind the following just in case. You don’t throw up when on a plane: you have motion discomfort. I am not going to the dump today but rather to the sanitary landfill; however, the last word I would ever use in reference to trash is sanitary. Janitors, trashmen and bartenders no longer exist. They have been reborn as custodians, sanitary engineers and mixologists.

I end with the best one of all. In Dr. Seuss’ Halloween TV special is Grinch Night when young Euchariah Who finds himself in need of “the euphamism” and must venture out of doors. What does the poor boy need? He needs the Whoville outhouse, the necessary, the privy, the little house! How wonderful!

I’m behind closed doors still. The sun was hanging around earlier but has now been replaced by clouds. I noticed a feeder was down and went to the deck. The red spawn of Satan had broken the top and was dining. I jet sprayed it and the creature jumped from branch to branch to get away but came back later. The feeder is inside with me while I try to figure how to keep the spawn from the seed. I wish the feeder could be electrified.

Serendipity is about the best word I know. Pure luck in discovering something you were not looking for has magic attached. An unseen hand has guided us to that one spot, that one place in time. I’m not talking spectacular discoveries here, just places or things that make us happy or give us joy. I’ve been lost on the road, decided to keep going and found the most interesting places to stop, places by-passed by my usual route. In cities I’m visiting, I just walk and am never disappointed. Did you ever hunt for something only to find something else, something you thought you’d lost forever? I found a box of old pictures, sat, went through each one of them and was lost in the memories of long ago friends. I was so intent on my treasures I forgot what in the heck I wanted in the first place.

Life’s choices are sometimes just filled with serendipity. I was in a quandary trying to decide what to do with myself after college. I chose Peace Corps for a sea of reasons, but, during those two years, I found out something I didn’t expect: I love to teach. I had found my passion. If I hadn’t chosen Peace Corps, I would have gone to law school and would have missed countless years of joy.

Once I found the perfect gift for a friend when I took refuge from the rain in the closest store. She loved the gift, and I found it because I wanted to stay dry.

I think that it is serendipity which opens our hearts to the joy of the unexpected and reminds us that though we may not always find what we seek, we might just find something better. 

The rain finally arrived. Henry wanted out at 5 so I obliged. Just as I got back into bed the heavens opened and heavy rain pelted the window. It was one sound, a roar, not the sounds of individual drops. I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the rain had stopped but it left the day dark and damp. Drops are falling from the trees when the wind blows. I am dreading my trip to Hyannis today. The roads will be filled with car loads of tourists trying to find something to do. They’ll gawk and ride slowly so as not to miss a single shop. They’ll watch a movie, buy souvenirs and stop to eat. I will leave early.

When I was a kid, I remember my father giving us each a few dollars to shop when we were on vacation. I once bought Scottie dog magnets, one black and one white. I liked the way they repelled each other. Another time I bought a book. I never did buy a souvenir. Free shells found along the beach were just fine. They even came with their own sand.

I don’t shop for clothes much. When I went back to Ghana the first time, I bought new shirts and pants out of necessity, but those clothes have become so threadbare I threw away two pairs of pants and two around the house pants, all split across the legs at creases. I tried taping the creases, but that didn’t work. The tape bunched in the wash and stuck to my legs on the next wearing. I realized I had no choice but to buy new clothes so this week I went shopping, on-line of course. Polo shirts were on sale. I bought colors: pink, red, lime and light blue. I bought two pairs of pants: black and khaki. I now own more summer clothes than I have in years, and best of all, I didn’t have to leave the house to shop.

I feel betrayed. Necco was sold with the understanding candy would still be made, but the first buyer sold it right away, and the new buyer closed Necco. I’m already suffering from a Clark Bar withdrawal. I have Necco Wafers and some Skybars but they won’t last long. I can’t find Clark Bars anywhere. People have been hoarding them. I’m in despair.

I am still living in the dark of my house, all windows and doors closed. The AC is blasting, and I am thankful for it. The day looks lovely outside the window with a light blue sky, plenty of sun and a breeze sometimes morphing into a wind strong enough to blow the large boughs of the tallest pine trees, but it is still a humid day with thick, stifling air.

When I was a little kid, I had all sorts of hopes and dreams. For a while, I imagined myself a princess living in a palace with turrets and secret passageways. I’d travel the countryside in a carriage drawn by magnificent horses. In my mind’s eye, I always looked a bit like a dark haired Cinderella. I once thought I had been snatched by Gypsies and my real, very rich parents were searching and searching for me. They’d drive through town, see me playing, recognize me immediately, stop the car then run and grab me, crying all the while as they gave me hugs. Though I couldn’t dance and sing like Shirley Temple, I could act. I had a perfect pout and could turn it on and off at will. I could cry real tears when needed. An actress is what I hoped to be. I would be the first female priest, and I used to practice  by serving mass to my little sisters. They ate the communion wafer, a small part of a saltine, and I had them go with God, all in Latin, of course. These were the dreams of a young girl.

When I got older, I dreamed of so many different things. I dreamed of traveling the world, of seeing all those far away places. I dreamed of going to college. No one in my family had ever gone to college. For a while I was a writer, an F. Scott Fitzgerald sort. Later I was Emily Dickinson pouring out my adolescent angst in poetry. I wanted to be a folk singer and play in cellar coffee houses filled with smoke. I wanted the crowd to snap their fingers in appreciation when I was done. These were the dreams of an adolescent trying to find her place in the world.

I went to college. I picked English to study because hiding in the back of my head were Emily and F. Scott. They hadn’t ever left. I chose teaching because I thought it a noble profession. I chose the Peace Corps because it just seemed the right thing to do. When I graduated from college, I left home, went to Africa and took my first steps into adulthood. These were my dreams coming true.

I loved teaching. I had chosen well. I traveled more of the world. Once I stood with a foot in each hemisphere. I watched reindeer at the Arctic Circle. I traveled through the Panama Canal and into the Andes. My dreams had become real, had become memories, but there is so much more ahead of me. I still hope and I still dream.

We did get a little rain but not enough. Now we have humidity. The air is thick despite the breeze, but here in the den it is still cool. This room is morning dark. It won’t get sun until this afternoon.

The anniversary of the moon landing brought back a flood memories for me. I was in Ghana that July, in training for the Peace Corps. It was during the second phase of training. We were in Bawku, a village in the Upper Region, for three weeks to live with families. There were 9 of us learning Hausa. We all had bicycles rented for us so we could get in and out of Bawku so every day at lunch we rode our bikes and met for more language training at a volunteer’s house just outside Bawku. I remember the house. The main room was huge. One end was the living room while the other end had the kitchen table and chairs. We were pretty cut off from what was happening at home. We saw no newspapers. None of us trainees had radios, but that day we listened to VOA. The volunteer whose house we were at had a radio. I remember it was early evening in Ghana. We were all clustered around the table. None of us spoke. We just listened. Everything was described. We had to visualize Armstrong going down the ladder and his feet jumping off the ladder and landing on the moon. We heard him describe the leap. We cheered.

Many Ghanaians didn’t believe we had landed on the moon. They hadn’t seen it, just heard it the same way we did. They thought it had all been staged, that it was a radio play similar to that War of the Worlds broadcast by Orson Wells.

I’m tired today. I think it’s the humidity. Mother Nature has to quick fooling around and either make it rain or make it dry.

Today is dark and dank. The humidity is back, and the air is thick with moisture. There is  a wind blowing branches and leaves back and forth. Rain is predicted for this afternoon, and I can barely wait. Everything is dry.

Last night we never did see a movie. We had appetizers and dinner on the deck, but it got too cold to stay outside so we had game night inside instead. You are reading the words of a winner!

I like to try new recipes when I have company so last night we had blueberry salsa. It was delicious. The blueberries were small, wild berries and were wonderfully sweet. I ate a few handfuls before I made the salsa. A variety of barbecued sausages, marinara sauce, caramelized onions and fried peppers were the main meal with coleslaw and cucumber salad as sides. I had bought fresh ciabatta bread so we could made sandwiches. Dinner was delicious, and the best part is I get to have leftovers today.

One of the spawns of Satan has gone to his reward. When I was watering the deck plants yesterday, I saw what I thought might have been Henry’s waste product (better known as poop), but it was in a weird spot and he never goes on the deck. After a closer examination, I realized it was offal. It was then I saw the gross remains of a gray spawn’s head and only the head. I jet sprayed all of it off the deck. My guess is a raccoon though I haven’t seen one and Henry hasn’t announced one.

Today is a stay around the house day, a sloth day. I’m not even going to get dressed. I’m going to finish my book and start another one. I’m going to eat a sausage sandwich. I may even take a nap.

The perfect weather will end tomorrow, but I still have today. The morning air has a coolness left over from last night. When Henry went out, I followed, but I stayed on the deck while he romped in the yard. Some birds were singing while others flew in and out of the sunflower feeders. The goldfinches hug on the bag of thistle.

I noticed a few new flowers have burst from their buds in the front garden. I saw a purple flower and a small blue one in the back. Other bunches have buds growing  bigger and bigger every day. I can see their white flowers. Soon the whole garden will be a riot of colors.

Today I have a small must do list. I’m going to the dump. The new flowers for the deck need to be potted, and the chiminea needs tempering. Tomorrow is our first movie night so I want to buy a few groceries, put together the outside basket and finish the menu. The outside basket has punks, a lighter, some natural bug spray, sparklers and some balloons which light up. It also has movie napkins and some movie candy. The movie for tomorrow is The Beast from Yucca Flats which is on several worst movies ever lists. According to IMDB, this movie was filmed silent, had dubbed-in sound effects and voiced-over narration. The star is Tor Johnson who was in Plan Nine from Outer Space which should give you an idea of his acting talents.

My neighborhood is quiet again: no kids, no machinery. I don’t even hear a barking dog. I like the stillness. Maddie is sleeping but Henry is wandering. He won’t get on the couch because I put the halter on the couch. I want to leave it there so he no longer sees it as a threat, but he has to be on the couch for that to happen. I’ll see how long that takes.

It’s time to get moving, to work on that to do list.

When I did my errands, the roads were full of cars. I even had to wait a few light cycles. What in the heck are all those people in cars doing? Why are they not at the beach on a perfect beach day? Spending even one sunny day of a vacation on the road seems a monumental waste.

I  got all my errands done because I had strategized my route before I left. Some days I give up and go home in mid-errand. Today wasn’t one of those.

When I left, I didn’t close the back door hoping to keep the house cool and in case Henry wanted out, but when I got home, he and Maddie were asleep.

Henry and Maddie rule the roost which is an odd metaphor as neither roost. I am their housemaid. Maddie wants fresh water every time she takes a drink. She sits by the water dish and meows at me when I go by the bathroom where the dish is. Before I do anything in the morning, including my coffee, I feed both of them. Henry sits and waits by his dishes, and Maddie weaves in and out of my legs, a dangerous maneuver for both of us. Treats are kept here in the den, mostly Maddie’s as she needs bulking being so skinny. Maddie is a slow, gentle eater. Henry gets a chew treat as that takes him a while to eat so Maddie can eat her treats in peace. He is always noisy and a bit messy. For their morning, afternoon and evening naps, Maddie sleeps on a small throw on the table and Henry sleeps on the couch. At bedtime, Maddie stays downstairs, and Henry runs up the stairs ahead of me and is usually waiting on my bed. Thought they don’t speak human, they have taught me how to respond to dog and cat speak. I am their faithful servant.

It has been a noisy morning. When I woke up, the kids were playing in the street, loudly playing in the street. The kids are gone but I can hear machinery, a different sound than a lawn mower. It is coming from somewhere down the street. What has happened to my  usual, quiet morning?